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1 -A Second m m i Esmeralda., f i ' L S By Constance D'Arcy M&clc&y. : s i 1 Copyright. 1907, by M. M. Cunningham. ? > When Hollister Fanshaw first caught 6ight of her she was standing at the door of a'dairy, her hands clasped be hind her head. Her gown of rose col ored print accentuated the lines of her supple figure. Her golden brown hair was gathered in a heavy coil at the nape of her neck. Beside her stood a brimming milk pail, its sides gleaming as the light struck them. Fanshaw paused. The roads over which he had ridden were dusty and parched under the heat of the July sun, and suddenly this dairy, set in Its cool expanse of fields, seemed a most desirable place. Xear by was the farm to which it belonged, a rambling old fashioned homestead. Fanshaw's eyes swept it in oue comprehensive glance and returned to the girl at the dairy door. He decided that nothing short of a glass of milk could quench hii thrist. Dismounting, he tethered his horse to" the fence. "Could you tell me the road to Berke ley?' he Inquired, for the truth was he had lost his way twice that morn ing, not so much from neglect of read ing the signposts as from a dreamy in attention to their pointing fingers, for the spell of the great outdoors was on him, and he reveled in the air laden with the mingled fragrances of wood and field, the lure of the long white toad. Yet now that he had questioned his dairy divinity he was once more alert; his dreaminess had fallen from him with astonishing quickness. But before the girl could reply an older iwoman looked from the doorway, and It was her voice that answered him. She was plump and kindly, with a face like a December apple, ruddy and a bit withered. It was evident that few visitors passed that way, and she was urgently hospitable In her desire that Fanshaw should not only refresh himself with her buttermilk, but that he should drink it in comfort, indicat ing a bench inside the dairy where the aii* seemed like a mountain spring com pared to the drowsy blaze of noon without. Fanshaw's horse was con tentedly cropping beneath the shade of a giant oak, and Fanshaw himself was equally contented and inclined to linger. He learned that this pleasant bit of rolling country was the Farley farm, and in return he vouchsafed the information that he had come from the Hillbrook House, the chief hotel of a summer colony fome' eight miles away* As he talked he glanced from time to time at the girl. "A princess of curls and cream," he thought to himself. "I wonder how such a jewel came to have a rustic setting!" "I suppose you live hero with your aunt, Mrs. Farley?" he hazarded. The girl smiled. "Mrs. Farley is not my aunt," she answered in a soft, drawling voice. "I'm an orphan. I work here." Mrs. Farley opened her mouth as if to add something to this speech, then, thinking better of it closed it again and, rising, went to a shelf near by and continued her skimming. The girl regarded Fanshaw with Wide, childlike blue eyes. "I calculate to go to the city some day myself," she said. "Tell me about New York." And Fanshaw, glad of such a listener, plunged in at once with descriptions of Broadway and Wall street, the rush, the clamor, the jlitter, of' it all. The girl listened, en tranced. Even Mrs. Farley hung on every word. "I often tell Josiah it's a shame," she burst out, "that we live right here from, year to year and never get away. (Why, the biggest place we've ever been to is Clifford Junction. And I » guess that, though the stores there seem big enough for me, they wouldn't be anything In New York." "Oh, I don't know," said Fanshaw quickly, fearing that his enthusiasm might have sown the first seeds of dis content. "Plenty of New Yorkers would be glad to own such a beautiful place as this." Mrs. Farley glowed with pleasure. Til tell that to Josiah," she exclaimed "He thinks there's nothing like the farm. And I hope," she added, "that If you're passing by this way you'll atop in and see us some time again." ' Fanshaw promised that he would. 'All at once the chattering groups on the hotel veranda seemed vapid and uninteresting. He discovered that golf and tennis bored him unutterably. (Even the plans for the flower cotillon to be held three weeks hence failed to inspire him, though only the day be fore he had been one of the prime mov ers of the innovation. The sweets of popularity had become suddenly taste less, for the very reason perhaps that ♦Fanshaw had had more than his share. ; Every one liked the broad shoulder ed, frank eyed young fellow, from the senior partners of the law firm where be was making conspicuous progress !to the freckled urchins that followed him about the golf course. He had won his own way up. His friends Were the friends of a man. who had a Seemingly inexhaustible supply of na- Klve energy and pluck. He worked ihard, and when time for recreation icaxne he played hard, throwing himself Sato the enjoyment of hto present va cation with all the zest and ardor of a t pk plans now had hot one foeoa point—the Farley farm. Sometimes It brae in the morning be rode over, some times late afternoon; but whether lata ior ectiy, fate favored htm. Bmeralda i was always there, now molding battel , with swift touches of her deft fingers, now pulling up tiny marauding weeds ' from the thrifty flower beds. And, as , always, her talk, beginning where it might, euded with the perpetually fas cinating topic of the city. Again and again he was forced to describe it for of*, while Esmeralda listened with un figging attention, but when, to amuse her, he talked lightly and cleverly of 1 the summer colony at Berkeley she paid little heed till he mentioned the i flower cotillon, and then she was like a child in her eagerness. "Would you like to go?" asked Fan shaw without waiting to consider the wisdom of the impulse. Esmeralda was radiant, chough Mrs. Farley was dubious concerning clothes. Yet when Fanshaw rode over next ; morning It appeared that the question had been joyfully settled, and Esmer • alda called to him from the upstairs window that if he would only wait she and Mrs. Farley would be down. Aft |(era short pause they came, Mrs. Far ley first in a brown silk dress whose sleeves and panniers had graced fash -1 ions that held sway some ten years ago, while Esmeralda's pale blue cash mere belonged to an even earlier period. They were so innocently pleased with what Mrs. Farley termed "their fix ings" that Hollister Fanshaw had not the heart to protest. He tactfully sug gested that the road to the hotel was long and dusty and would work havoc with such finery and that the simple sprigged muslins that Esmeralda wore every day would do equally well, whereat Mrs. Farley merely smiled and produced two long black bomba zlne cloaks antedating even the brown silk and blue cashmere. These, she said, would cover them from head to foot so closely that not a speck of dust could penetrate. For a moment Fanshaw weakened. He had a fleeting vision of these two absurdly old fashioned figures among the ultra smart crowd at the Hillbrook. Then his eyes met Esmeralda's, so a-sparkle with anticipation, and he In wardly called himself a coward and a : snob. Whatever the outward symbol of dress might be, there was not a girl j at Hillbrook who could compare with this princess of curds and cream. The night of the dance was clear and cool. A breeze swept across up- j land and meadow. Even the loqua- i clous Mrs. Farley seemed to feel the summer silence and on the way from the farm to Hillbrook spoke hardly a word. Esmeralda, too, was quiet. From the folds of her all enshrouding black bombazine cloak her neck rose white and slender.- Her cheeks were, faintly flushed, her eyes like stars. Never, thought Fanshaw, had she look ed more beautiful. Some people on the broad hotel veranda paused curiously to. watch the arrival of Hollister Fansnaw and hie guests. The moment that passed while Mrs. Farley and Esmeralda removed their; wraps was a miserable one for him. j j The world was full of snobs. Suppose his dairy divinity should be slighted. ! 1 patronized. • "Jove," cried a man at Fanshaw's el- j bow, "I thought that Miss Van Rem syn was at Newport!" Fanshaw stared. There, coming to ward him, was a princess of curds and cream—the cream of white, glistening satin, the curds of billowing lace. "Oh," he groaned beneath his breath, "what an unmitigated fool I've been— j more stupid t«:an the dullest dullard!" "Yes," said Miss Van Remsyn, nod ding, "dull enough to prefer the socie ty of a poor little country girl—dull enough to be chivalrous, to ignore her inexperience, her ridiculous attempts at dress!" "Dull enough to be madly in love with her!" cried Fanshaw in half sav- 1 age hopelessness. "I shouldn't call that dull," murmur -1 ed Miss Van Remsyn, with a humor ous upward glance. "Do you mean that there'd be a ghost of a chance for me?" stammered Fanshaw, suddenly joyful. -j "Oh, Hollister, are you quite, quite blind?" said Esmeralda the second. Love Songs of the Birds. It Is a mistaken idea that a bird sings directly to and for the ear of his mate alone, wooing her with his music. !' Most of the finest songs are sung to , other males after the stress of rivalry j is past and each little lady's love se- i cured. If the motive of the singing 1 were to attract the female the befet songs would be heard during the first stage of love making. But birds go very slyly about their mating, and When a male bursts out in song one can be pretty sure that the demure wife Is very busy over important af fairs of her own. Every close observer of birds must notice that the female is often indifferent to the singing of her mate. As the love season comes on a bird naturally overflows into song— ; it may be to attract some female near er, though every 'bird has a distinct significant love call, which carries as far as his song. The moment she ap pears upon the scene he has less mu sical ways of courting her. Should he go on singing some more strenuous suitor would surely get ahead of him. He will fight for her, feed her, coax 1 her with low, guarding notes. But if he is singing loud and clear it is in tri umph. She is won—is his— and, like all truly loving mates, gives him his freedom to go back to the springs of his being for rest and Inspiration.— Virginia Garland in Out West ' • / Mot Char-He's Gum. "Now, Charlie," said the sweet faced mtle woman, "before you einto Bofiny school, don't you think tt would.lM nice to take yoor gam oat of poor mouth?" Tessum, but it ain't mine. If* my broOde^s.*—New York Preea. Trie Rocky Mount Record, Thursday, April 9, 1908. A CURIOUS CONTEST. | Ox Rac« That Is Run Under Peculiar Conditions. A race that in a peculiar sense is not to the swift is one that is run, if the word may be used in such a connection, every year in the pro vincial districts of Germany. Early in May during iSjie celebra tion of a festival that to a certain extent corresponds to the English May day an ox race is held. The entrance fee is small, but the con ditions are peculiar. Each ox must be ridden by its owner and ridden bareback. No whip, spur, yoke, harness or any means of guiding the animal is allowed. The rider must depend entirely upon his voice to accomplish the end he has in vie\v, and as the oxen do not race on a track, but across a large open ! field, the training of the animals and the skill of the rider are se verely tested. Speed is a secondary consideration in this race, for the rider who can induce his steed to go in a straight line is sure to win. The start is made at one side of a field a mile square, the finish at the opposite side. When the competitors are lined up and the signal is given the fun begins. Despite the efforts of the riders the majority of the oxen re fuse to head toward the opposite mark, and as spectators are allowed in the field and are at liberty to do anything they wish to interfere with the rider except touch him or his mount the difficulties of the race are not inconsiderable. As is well known, oxen are not as a rule excitable beasts. But when they are confronted by the shouts of the spectators and the general hullabaloo that always ensues at such affairs as well as the exciting efforts of the riders to control them they are soon reduced to a state of complete bewilderment. It often happens that an hour has passed before one of the oxen has succeed ed in getting "under the wire." But when once the task is ac complished the winning rider is fully repaid for his pains. His ox is surrounded by the enthusiastic spectators and decorated with gar lands and (lowers, and the lucky owner receives a cash prize.—Pitts burg Post. Lady of the Lamb. In a certain Oxfordshire village there was formerly on the Monday after Whitsun a custom of provid „ ing a fat live lamb to be competed for by the maidens of the parish, the conditions being that each lass should have her thumbs tied secure ly and should run after the lamb with open mouth. She who suc ceeded in catching hold of and re taining the lamb by means of her teeth was declared the winner. After having been dressed with the skin on the animal was then slung on a long pole and was carried in front of the successful candidate to the village green, where music and dancing were the order of the day. The following day a third of it was baked, a third boiled and the re mainder roasted and distributed among the lady's companions, who sat at table with her, she being designated Lady of the Lamb. — Modern Society. Political Platforms. No political party held a national convention prior to 1831 or adopted a platform of principles prior to 1832. Before these dates nomina tions were made by congressional caucuses and by the several legisla tures. The anti-Masonic party was the first to hold a national conven tion. This was convened in Balti more on Sept. 26, 1831. It named William Wirt for president, but adopted no platform. This example was followed by the Whigs, who met in December of the same year and put Henry Clay in nomination, but framed no declaration of princi ples. It was not until the Demo cratic party met in convention, also in Baltimore, on March 22, 1832, that the modern cugtom of stating the issues ,of the campaign was in augurated. Serves a Good Purpose. Caller — I sent you a poem about three weeks ago. What have you done with it? Editor —I'm holding it. Every little while lately I get to thinking that we are not getting out as good a paper as we ought to, and then I take that poem and see how much worse the sheet might be, and that makes me cheerful again. Say, how much'll you take for it?— Ch icago News. Cutting. *Got anything you want sharpen ed, gents?" inquired the aged ped dler with the raxor paste. "Yes," replied the ■mart youth it the dedk near the door; **you can sharpen our wits if yon want to, old man." "Got to have something to wofk on, gents," the old man said as he looked round the room, shook his bead pityingly and walked awaj*— Ksnssi City Independent. . gSubscribe Toi | The 1 I Rocky || I Mount | I Record § An 8 Page Home Paper I A,- . Devoted to the interests of ft iVfi* II?! J| Nash and Edgecombe counties II and surrounding territory... |B j Carries More Reading Matter 1 Jr Than any other paper publish- W H ed in this section, including || ■ Local, State and Gen-It 1 eral News Items ot In-1 8 terest to Readers . . . .|j | Price: - - $l.OOl I Per Year | i Published Every Thursday Morn- 1 | ing at Rocky Mount, N. C g
The Rocky Mount Record (Rocky Mount, N.C.)
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April 9, 1908, edition 1
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