Image provided by: University of Nebraska-Lincoln Libraries, Lincoln, NE
About The Loup City northwestern. (Loup City, Neb.) 189?-1917 | View Entire Issue (Feb. 13, 1903)
5T. VALENTINE. Vot rose. nor tender eglantine, S'or Illy, nor the columbine, But from the prairie's rolling mead I send a spray of Iron weed I'o greet you as my valentine. Blue-veined the lilies are. I Know. And darkly red the roses glow. But I have sent the ironweed, Uncouth and harsh, whose dusky seed The palms of unseen sowers sow. Vot rude my emblem, If you find VIy meaning here, though faint outlined. For struck from sudden clash of thought No purer fire can bo wrought Than flint-steel spark of mind to mind. Vay, as you touch It time shall bring A glimpse of low horizon-ring. And dreamy sweep of pliant breeze That undula*>s o'er grassy seas— I’he rustle of the wind’s broad wing. From my rough hand to lay In thine * send this offering—I is a sign Of love until my la1 ?st breath Of Iron faith that hoi Is through death— A sunburnt Western valentine, -Ernest SlcOaftey in the Woman's Home Companion. MISS NANCY'S FIRST VALENTINE. By MARIK BOTHILDA. Miss Nancy Larkins, up to her for tieth anniversary, had never received a valentine; moreover, the lady had always declaimed against such ‘ senti mental nonsense.” Perhaps the for mer clause of the foregoing proposi tion may explain the reason for the latter, and then, again, the latter pe culiarity may have been a case of sour grapes. Her friends were divided in apinion. The village gossips had dubbed her ‘old maid,” sometimes alluding to her as “peculiar," both favorite epithets which wise people bestow upon those who venture to disagree with public opinion. She lived with an orphan niece, somewhat secluded, seldom left home to gad about, never gossiped with her neighbors, and positively refused to attend the weekly reunions of the “L. S. C„” which initials she sarcastically interpreted to mean "Ladies’ Scandal Club,” instead of the authentic one of "Ladies’ Sewing Circle.” Miss Nancy is cold and unsympathetic, so the vil lage gossips said, but regardless of consequences, she audibly sniffed her contempt at their pet traditions and amusements. There was one, however, whom her cold, forbidding exterior could not de ceive. Her next-door neighbor. Colo nel Watson. He had traveled, he had seen the world—and women—and was able to look deeper than cork-screw curls and a tip-tilted nose to find the jewel that others were too obtuse to see. The colonel had settled in the vil lage some three years previous to this story, with a young daughter. His garden adjoined that of Miss Nancy; in fact, he could look over the fence and see that maiden—a thing he often did—whenever she came out to trim her rose bushes, loosen the earth around her pet plants or “shoo” the chickens out of the lettuce patch. So, also, she could look over the fence and see the colonel—a thing she often did slyly, for he was a comely person to look at—and see him fussing about his garden. There was generally a “good morning." or a mere nod, as is customary with close neighbors, but there was no lolling on the fence or gossiping. The acquaintance went no farther than circumspect formality. What their ehiers lacked in cordial ity. the two girls made up in close intimacy. It did not take three years for them to become chums, and their constant chatter about the affairs of each household, put both the colonel and Miss Nancy in possession of every little secret. Trifling confidential com munications by his daughter, small scraps of information concerning Miss Nancy, and his interpretation of vil lage tattle, which he treated like dreams as always meaning the con trary, created in the colonel's breast a warm regard for the woman who pos sessed the courage of her own convic tions and the bravery to live her life She looked over toward the colonel’s • garden. In her own way regardless of the am bitious desires of the public to man age it in their way. He had also dis covered certain peculiarities of Miss Nancy which were not generally known. It appeared that she had been feeding and clothing a poor woman and her two children while the hus band and father was lying sick in a hospital in a strange city. He had also followed her at a distance one Christmas eve, when she was carry ing a heavily laden basket of good and cheerful things. He would have been glad to help her carry the bur den, but he was afraid of being snubbed, the brave colonel that he was. When he saw her deposit her basket at the door of a humble dwel ling, and, after tapping gently, scurry away to avoid being caught in such a shameful act, he stared in astonish ment, and his heart went pit-a-pat lest she should catch him in the act df spy ing upon her. Had he not heard the Widow Mul lins sing her praises, with tears in her honest eyes? “Whin Mickey bruit his leg last win ter, an’ I wor thot bad wid the asthmy I couldn't wurruk, the two of us’d a been in the poor house but for thot same Miss Nancy. Whin I kissed the hand of her an’ said: ‘May the good Lord bless ye, Miss Nancy, niavour neen, an’ may ivery hair of yer head be a mould candle to light ye to glory.’ she scowled at me till I wor scairt. But ’tis the warrum heart she has, alanna, an’ ’tis angered she is whin tould of it.” These and many other little tell tale incidents affected the sensitive heart of the colonel, and he sought opportunities to make a closer ac quaintance with the lady who was evi dently fanning Into ar bright ilame the dying embers in his bosom. But the fates were against him until a bril liant idea occurred to the youthful minds of the two girls, a little scheme of their own, over which they had many a giggle. They had noticed the colonel looking over the fence furtive ly when puttering about his garden, and his bow, and "good morning,” and they had also noticed the staid Miss Nancy peeping out of the corner of her window which overlooked the garden of her martial neighbor. In In fact he eoul(> look over the fence. fact, they caught her in the act one day, and her explanation, ‘‘I do believe it is going to rain,” did not deceive them In the least. They saw the be ginning of a romance and. girl like, they schemed to help it along. Valentine's day was approaching, and this gave them an idea and an opportunity to conspire against their elders with safety. They knew that Miss Nancy had never received a val entine, and that she was a violent op ponent of such sentimentality. “And do you really mean to say that you never got a valentine, Aunt Nancy—not even a small one—when you were young?” Lottie asked the question. She had reached the ma ture age of nineteen years and had a collection of those tender missives of all shapes and sizes which were the envy of her less fortunate friends. “Never,” sniffed Aunt Nancy with a scornful toss of her head. “I’d like to have seen a young man dare to send me one of the silly things when I was a girl. I never could see any sense in Valentine’3 day. “It is positively infamous, girls. Do you know that St. Valentine had noth ing to do with the absurd custom, and it is a shame to fasten it upon him. Are you aware what it means?” The girls shook their heads. "I thought not, most girls do not, or they would scorn the horrid things. It began in an old heathen custom of celebrating a festival on the 14th of February on account of the return of spring. The birds at that time began to prepare their nests, twittered on the tree limbs, where th-iy cuddled up close, sat on the house tops and rubbed their little beaks together, or chased one another about. In the dark ages, flirts and lovers, called ‘galantines,' sent love letters to their charmers on that day, and we call the day ‘Valentine’ because it sounds like the name which means a flirt, a gallant. It is wicked for Christians to have anything to do with it.” Lottie looked over at Mabel, the Colonel's daughter, and slyly winked. “But, Auntie," persisted the girl, “you had lovers when you were young, didn't you? They were queer lovers not to care enough about you to send you one." Miss Nancy’s corkscrew' curls flut tered Impatiently. “I never had a lover, child. I wouldn't have the idle fellows hanging around me, so they kept away because I wasn’t silly enough to suit them. Pooh! the idea of running around to dances and parties and sitting in dark corners with their arms around my waist! That was something I never fancied. I shudder when I think of such e. thing.” When Mabel went home she told her father all about Miss Nancy's views on the subject and her learning. “Dear me, she must be a blue stock ing.” was all he said, adding, however, so that Mabel did not hear it: “She's a fine woman all the same.” Bright, and early the postman came, and as he was obliged to deliver what ever Uncle Sam hands him to deliver, whether acceptable or not. he handed Miss Nancy a missive with a sus plelouB edging of lace around the en velope. The girls snickered and ran away, watching, however to see whu’ Miss Nancy would do with it—she sel dom received letters, and this was something unusual. Turning it over and over suspiciously, she looker; around furtively and put it In the bo:> om of her dress without opening it. By and by she went up to her own lit tle room and opening it, this is what she read: “This heart 1 present to Miss Nancy, Dare I hope that some day she’ll be mine? For her I have long had a fancy, i confess it in this valentine.” Her usually pale cheek flushed a vivid scariet, but she looked over to ward the colonel's garden. Lottie bursting in upon her. she hastily hid the missive in her bosom. “Oh, Auntie, Auntie, did you get a valentine? What fun, a valentine at last. 1 saw the postman deliver it, and it looks just like one of mine.” “No, it is not a valentine,’ said Miss Nancy stiffly, “it is a letter from a friend." She blushed again at. the prevarication, for Nancy was truthful, tcx) much so. some said. Lottie saw it and rushed over to Maoel’s. “She's got it. Mabel, she's got it, and she says it is from a friend. Come over and we’ll finish our scheme." The horrid girls danced in upon Miss Nancy and actually caught her studying the tender missive. Witnout listening to her protestations, they each gave her a good hug, and seized the valentine. “Who is it from?" queried Lottie. Mabel examined it critically, and whispered mysteriously in her friend's ear, loud enough, however, for Miss Nancy to overhear: "It looks like papa's writing: it is papa’s writing.” Ti.en handing it back, she said aloud: "What a beautiful valentine. It is actually hand painted. See, dear Miss Nancy, it is like a heart, with little pink hearts all over it and sprigs of lovely forget-me-nots intertwined. Whoever sent you that loves you truly, i wonder what it can be?" “I know.” said Miss Nancy shortly, “the impudent fellow.” Clapping on her hat, she went straight up to the colonel's front door, which he happened to open at that moment to go out. With an indignant toss of her head and without uttering a word, she east at the amazed colo nel’s feet the poor innocent valentine, and, turning, fled home again with her heart going pit a pat and her knees shaking under her. Within an hour, a special messenger handed Miss Nancy a plain envelope. Opening it, the same valentine dropped out, but written in a bold hand in penman ship unlike the rest, were the words: “i accept the authorship of this val entine and stand by it.” Miss Nancy, with a woman’s intui tion, perceived that she had made a mistake, and in her confusion rushed up to her little room, locked the door and dropped the curtain, probably to keep the impudent colonel out. But lie wras watching and accepted the signs as favorable, for he called that evening to apologize. “Miss Nancy,” he said, ‘‘permit me to call you that, everybody else does; I was amazed that you should even suspect me of such an underhand act as sending a valentine when I have a tongue to talk with and express my sentiments. 1 saw immediately that somebody—1 will not say who' he looked at the two girls sharply, who blushed and stole away—“but as l have long held the same sentiments in your regard, I accept the situation and resolve to speak my mind, the op portunity presenting itself. Can you forgive me. my dear Miss Nancy?” Miss Nancy evidently did forgive him, for the neighbors, not so very long afterward, were astonished to see the belongings of one house moving into the other, the girls superintend ing the matter, the colonel and Miss Nancy being mysteriously absent on a trip somewhere. Home-Made Valentines. Sometimes the valentines made at home find greater favor than any one can buy. Hearts may be cut from wa ter-color paper and painted red, or J Me.^ gilded and a verse written on one side. By a little ingenuity and folding of paper quite a packet may be made in heart shape. A box of candy hearts is a pretty valentine. Original rhymes are acceptable and not so hard to make after all. Cakes neart shaped may be sent as valentines, and rib bon bows pulled to represent a heart are pretty. Valentine Gifts. * A heart-shaped cut glass flask for perfume, or a heart-shaped box with silver top for the toilet table, or a ring with a true lover's knot encircling a whole pearl, a turquoise, or an ame thyst, which is the February birth stone, would please a young girl. A heart-shaped locket with a single pearl and having a place for hair and a photograph inside, is a pretty gift, as Is also a pendant of the same shape for the watch chain. The Bow of Orange Ribbon A ROMANCE OF NEW YORK By AMELIA E. BARR Author of "Frland Olivia."’ '% Thou and tho Othor Ona." Eto. Copyright, 1886, by Dodd, Mead and Company. CHAPTER XIII. The Turn of the Tide. The great events of most lives occur in epochs. After Hyde s and Katherine's marriage, there was a long era noticeable only for such vicissitudes as were incident to their fortune and position. But in May, A. D. 1774. the first murmur of the returning tide of destiny was heard. For the trouble between England and her American colonies was rapidly culminating and party feeling ran high, not only among civilians, but throughout the royal regiments. Re cently, also, a petition had been laid before the king from the Americans then resident in London, praying him not to send troops to coerce his sub jects in America, and, when Hyde en tered his club some members were engaged In an a angry altercation on this subject. "The petition was flung upon the table, as it ought to have been," said Lord l’aget. “You are right,” replied Mr. ller vpy; "(hey ought to petition no long er They ought now to resist. The Duke of Richmond spoke warmly for Boston last night. ‘The Bostonians are punished without a hearing, he said, ‘and, if they resist punishment, 1 wish them success.' Are they not Englishmen, and many of them born on English soil? When have English men submitted to oppression? Neither king, lords, nor commons can take away the rights of the people, it is past a doubt, too, that his majesty, at the levee last night, laughed when lie said he would just as lief fight the Bostonians as the French. I heard this speech was received with a dead silence, and that great offence was given by it.” “1 think the king was right,” said Paget passionately. ‘‘Rebellious sub jects are worse than open enemies like the French.” “My lord, you must excuse me if 1 do not agree with your opinions. And the fight has begun, for Parliament is dissolved on the subject.” “It died,” laughed Hyde, “and left us a rebellion for a legacy. “Capt. Hyde, you are a traitor.” "Lord Paget, I deny it. My sword is my country’s; but I would not, for twenty kings, draw it against my own countrymen,”—then with a meaning glance at Lord Paget, and an emphatic touch of his weapon—“except in my own private quarrel.” "Gentlemen,” said Mr. Hervey, “this i3 no time for private quarrels; and. captain, here is my Lady Capel s foot man, and ne says he comes in urgent saeed.” Hyde glanced at the message. “It is a last command. Mr. Hervey. Lady Capel is at the death point, and to her requests I am first bounden.” Lady Capel had been edatb-stricken while at whist, and was stretched upon a sofa in the midst of the desert ed tables, yet covered with scattered cards and half-emptied teacups. At this hour it was evident that, above everything in the world, the old lady had loved her wild, extravagant grandson. “Oh, Dick,” she walspered, ‘ 1 ve got to die! We all have. 1 have left you eight thousand pounds—all I could save, Dick. Arabella is witness to it. Dick, Dick, you will think of me sometimes?” And Hyde kissed her fondly. “111 never forget you.” he answered, •'never, grandmother. Is there any thing you want done? Think, dear grandmother.” “Put me beside Jack Capol. I won der—if I shall—see Jack.” A shadow, gray and swift, passed over her face. Her eyes hashed one piteous look into Hyde's eyes, and then closed forever. And while in the rainy, dreary Lon don twilight Lady Capel was dying, Katherine was in the garden at Hydo Manor, watching the planting of seeds that were in a few weeks to bo living things of beauty and sweetness. Little Joris was with his mother, running hither and thither, as his eager spirits led him. Katherine had heard much of Lady Capel, and she had a certain tender ness for the old woman who loved her husband so truly; but no thought of her entered into Katherine’s mind that calm evening hour. Then her maid, with a manner full of pleasant ex citement, came to her and said; "Here be a London peddler, ma dam; and he do have all the latest fashions and the news of the king and the Americans.” In a few minutes the man was ex hibiting his wares to Katherine, and she was too much interested in the wares to notice their merchant par ticularly. There was a slow but mutually satisfactory exchange of goods and money, and then the ped dler began to repack his treasures, and Lettice to carry away the pretty trifles and the piece of satin her mis tress had bought. Then, also, he found time to talk, to take out the last newspapers, and to describe the popular dissatisfaction at the stupid tyranny of the government toward I the Colonies. Katherine was about to leave the room, when he suddenly remembered a scarf of great beauty which he had not shown. “I bought It for my Lady Suffolk,” he said; “but Lord Suffolk died sud den, and black my lady had to wear.” A singular look of speculation came Into Katherine's face, and as the ped dler detailed with hurried avidity the town talk that had clung to her reputa tion for so many years; and he so fully described the handsome cavalry officer that was her devoted attendant that Katherine could have no difficulty in recognizing her husband, even with out the clews which her own knowl edge of the parties gave her. Suddenly she turned and faced the stooping man: “Your scarf take; I will not have it. No, and 1 will not have anything that 1 have bought front you. All of the goods you shall receive back; and my money, give It to me. You know that of my husband you have been talking—1 mean lying. You know that this is his house, and that his true wife am I." She spoke without passion and with out hurry or alarm; but there was no mistaking the purpose in her white, resolute face and fearless attitude. And with an evil glance at the beau tiful, disdainful woman standing over him, the peddler rose and left the house. CHAPTER XIV The Bow of Orange Ribbon. Katherine sat down and remained still as a earven Image, thinking over what had been told her. There had been a tlino when her husband's con stant talk of Lady Suffolk had pained her, and when she had been a little jealous of the apparent familiarity which existed in their relations with eaeh other; but Hyde had laughed at her fears, and she had taken a pride in putting hiB word above all her sus pieions. It was also a part of Katherine's just and upright disposition to make allowances for the life by which her husband was surrounded. Hyde had told her that there were necessary events in his daily experience of which it was better for her to be ignorant. ‘They belong to it, as my uniform does,” he said; “they are a part of its appearance, but they never touch my feelings, and they never do you a moment’s wrong, Katherine.” This explanation it had been the duty both of love and of wisdom to accept; and she had done so with a faith which asked for no conviction beyond it. And now she was practically told that for years he had been the lover of another woman; that her own exist ence was doubted or denied; that, if It were admitted, it was with a supposi tion that affected both her own good name and the rights of her child. Hyde was the probable representative of an ancient noble English family, and its influence was great; if he really wish ed to annul their marriage, perhaps it was in his power to do so. She was no craven, and she faced the position in all its cruel bearings. She asked herself if—even for the sake of her little Joris, she w'ould re main a wife on sufferance, or by the tie of rights which she would havo to legally enforce; and then she lifted the candle and passed softly into his r£>m to look at him. She Bllpped down igTon her knees by the sleeping boy, and out cf the. terror and sorrow of her soul spoke to the Fatherhood in heaven. The boy suddenly awoke; he flung his arms about her neck, he laid his face close to hers and said: "Oh. mother, beautiful mother, I thought my father was here!” “You have been dreaming, darling Joris.” "Yes; I am sorry I have been dream ing. I thought my father was here— my good lather, that loves us so much." Then, with a happy face, Katherine with kisses sent him smiling into dreamland again. In those few tender moments all her fears slipped away from her heart. "I will not believe what a bad man says against my hus band—against my dear one who is not here to defend himself. Lies, lies! I will make the denial for him.” And she kept within the comfort of this spirit, even though Hyde's usual letter was three days behind its usual time. On tne fourth day her trust had its reward. She found then that the delay had been caused by the neces sary charge and care of ceremonies which Lady Capel’s death forced upon her husband. She had almost a senti ment of gratitude to her, although she was yet ignorant of her bequest of eight thousand pounds. For Hyde had resolved to wait until the reading of the will made it certain, and then to resign his commission and carry the double good news to Katherine him self. Henceforward, they were to be together. So this purpose, though un expressed, gave a Joyous ring to his letter; it was lover-like in its fond ness and hopefulness, and Katherine thought of Lady Suffolk and her emis sary with a contemptuous indiffer ence. ward" was upon every face. Alas! these are the unguarded hours which sorrow surprises! But no thought of trouble, and no fear of it, had Katherine, as she stood before her mirror one afternoon. She was watch ing Lettlce arrange the double folds of her gray taffeta gown, when thero came a knock at her chamber door. "Here be a strange gentleman, ma dam, to see you; from London, he do say.” A startled look came Into Kather ine’s face; she asked no question, but went dixrj stairs. Seen she cam* back slowly, with a letter In her hand. She was white, even to her lips. Fully ten minutes elapsed ere she gathered strength sufficient to break its well known seal, and take in the full mean ing of words so full of agony to her. "It is midnight, beloved Katherine, and in six hours I may be dead. Lord Paget spoke of my consip to me in such terms as leaves but one way out of the affront. I pray you. If you can, to pardon me. You I shall adore with my last breath. Kate, my Kate, forgive me. If this comes to you by strange hands, I shall be dead or dying. Kiss my son for me and tako my last hope and thought." These words she read, then wrung her hands and moaned like a creature that had been wounded to death. Oh, the shame! Oh, the wrong and sor row! How could she bear It? What should she do? Capt. Lennox, who had brought the letter, was waiting for her decision. If she would go to her husband, then he could rest and return to London at his leisure. If not, Hyde wanted his will, to add a codicil regarding the eight thousand pounds left him by Lady Capel. For he had been wounded in his side, and a dangerous inflammation having set In, he had been warned of a possible fatal result. Katherine was not a rapid thinker. She had little, either, of that Instinct which serves some women Instead of all other prudences. The one thought that dominated all others was that her husband had fought and fallen for Lady Suffolk. All these years she had been a slighted and deceived woman. “To London I will not go," she de cided. “There Is some wicked plan for me. The will and the papers are wanted, that they may be altered to suit it. I will stay here with my child. Even sorrow great as mine is best borne in one's own home.” She went to the escritoire to get the papers. When she opened the sense ltss chamber of wood, she found her self in the presence of manj^a tortur ing, tender memory. In an open slide there was a rude picture of a horse. It was little Joris’ first attempt to draw Mephisto, and it had been care fully put away. The place was full of such appeals. Among them was a ring that Hyde’s father had given him. his mother’s last letter, a lock of his son's hair, her own first letter—the shy, anxious note that she wrote to Mrs. Gordon. Then she began to arrange the papers according to their size, and a small sealed parcel slipped from among them. * She turned it over and over in her hand, and the temptation to see the love-token inside became greater every moment. “If in this parcel there Is some love pledge from Lady Suffolk, then I go not; nothing shall make me go. If In It there is no word of her, no mes sage to her or from her; if her name Is not there, nor the letters of her name—then I will go to my own. A new love, one not a year old, I can put aside. I will forgive every one but my Lady Suffolk.” So Katherine decided as she broke the sea! with firmness and rapidity. The first paper within the cover made her tremble. It was a half sheet which she had taken one day from Bram's hand, and it had Bram's name across it. On it she had written the first few lines which she had the right to sign “Katherine Hyde.” It was, Indeed, her first “wife” letter; and within it was the precious love-token, her own love-token—the bow of orange ribbon. She gave a sharp cry as it fell upon tlie desk; and then she lifted and kissed it, and held it to her breast, as she rocked herself to and fro in a passlonato transport of triumphant love. (To be continued.) NEW GUTTA PERCHA TREE. Valuable Discovery Recently Made In the Valley of the Amazon. Up to quite recent date the world has relied on the rubber tree for Its supply of gutta percha, and on ac count of the limited area in which this plant grows the product has been ex ceedingly expensive. A short time ago a gutta percha merchant in the Guia nas in examining the Amazon region in South America found the balata tree growing in abundance near Para and on the Amazon and its tributaries for thousands of miles. The Brazilians had no knowledge of its gum-produc ing properties and were found cutting down the trees for firewood and build ing material. A concession was bought and the practical work of producing gutta percha for the market begun. There Is practically no limit to the supply of gutta percha on the Amazon and it can be produced at a fraction of the cost of rubber. The method of “bleeding” the balata tree is entirely different from that used to extract the gum of the rubber tree and only ex pert ‘‘bleeders,” it is said, can be employed. The trees yield many times as much sap as the rubber trees and one man can gather as much gutta percha in a day as twenty man can extract from the rubber tree. Each tree will average three and a half pounds and one competent “bleeder" can prepare forty to fifty pounds per day. The gum is fermented and then dried in the syn, after which it is ready for shipment. Fully Covered. A woman on the death of her hus band telegraphed to a distant friend: "Dear Joseph is dead. Loss fully covered by insurance.” Nothing more completely baffles one who is full of trick and duplicity than straightforward and simple integrity in another.—Colton.