Image provided by: University of Oregon Libraries; Eugene, OR
About Heppner gazette. (Heppner, Morrow County, Or.) 1892-1912 | View Entire Issue (Dec. 24, 1908)
The Lady from the Sea. BY CYRUS TOWNSEND BRADY- Author of " Vhn BItc?f Ar Out and Lova'i Af.sld," " Tonn with th Sliip," 'A Doctor of Philosophy," Tho SoutKoi nr," to. Cpyrtirhl. by J. R. Lipincott Company. All ritf tit a ronerved few y 1 4m HE LADY FROM THE SEA is the graphically appropriate title of this most fascinating and interesting serial. The story is from the pen of Cyrus Tovvnsend Brady, author of a number of works of fi:tion that have received attention in the best literary circles. EHen Smith, the heroine of the story, is the daughter of a Confederate officer who owns a privateer, and the scene is laid during the War of the Ribelhon. Elen is atypical southern girl proud, self-reliant and daring. Thomas Beekman Smith is a naval officer of the Government, and captures a blockade runner. They learn through a letter found aboard the ship, the location of the privateer, and also capture that craft, with Ellen aboard. Some very entertaining and interesting chapters are devoted to life on the ocean and love-making later. Ellen appears to have betrayed Smith to the Confederates, and he barely escapes death as a spy. Later still, her father is made a prisoner on board a ship of the enemy. The hot-headed southerner disowns his daughter, when she acknowledges her love for Smith, is set at liberty and the discarded E'len becomes the wife of the man she loves. This story is intense in its war flavor and original in its treatment of plot and incident. The naval adventures are thrilling and well depicted, and the serial will be recog n zed as a very superior war story. CHAPTER I. Romance, in boo'-.s is ass.x-iatcd al ways with the beautiful, generally with tihe best. We go backward into (he prist for a theme, since " 'tis dis'aur lend enchantment to the view." We fancy that the heart beats more warmly certainly more gracefully beneath satin and lace than beneath calico and fustian; that the love that quotes poetry is purer and more admirable than that which th rough hard necessity expresses itself ungrammatical ly ; that diamond-buckled shoes, capering nimbly upon a carpet to the "pleasing of a lute," carry a man whose ideals must inevitably transcend those of his lowly brother who Is upborne by the sabot or the brogan. It is a dictum that there is no romance among tdie common people. The hero and the heroine, in the novel, must be disso ciated from real life by unusual qualities and characteristics, else no one will care for their story so, at 'least, it is- imag ined. Yet as the saddest tragedies are those of the commonplace, so the finest romances are those of the common people. To pick up at random any of the cur rent stories of the day is to find one evi dence of a concession to the supposed popular yearning for the beautiful and the unusual in the descriptions and, eke. the names of the puppets who give title to the story and strut through their brief hours iion the written stage. With rare exceptions the heroines are beautiful in person, cultivated in mind, ancient in family I-ady Clara Vere de Veres, in hort : while the hero is no longer beau tiful, but he is strong, tall, brave, noble, generous; and if dissipated, will ultimate ly reform. The names, as I have suggest ed above, of these godlike persons corre spond, so far as names may and they may to a great degree, notwithstanding Shakspeare to these attributes. They fall trippingly from the tongue and linger musically in the memory. Invention which might better be devoted to the story is wasted on a name that, like Wordsworth's famous light, "never was on sea or land." T have invented several myself, therefore i know ! The heroine of ' the. ensuing story is named Jones, the hero. Smith. These names have been selected deliberately. That sets this romance at once apart from II other stories that have ever been writ ten. That it may live up to its uniqnity is the prayer of the writer. There must of necessity be thousands of romances in the Smith and Jones families, there are no many of them and they are not dying, but, on the contrary, are increasing at a rapid rate! Cannot a Smith love as well as a Montniorenci? Is not the blood of a Jones filled with the same passionate ichor as that of a Howard? Miss Jones her first and only other name was Ellen was a young woman of no particular ancestry which need be dwelt upon. While it must be frankly ad mitted that she was not strikingly beauti ful. It may be affirmed with equal truth that neither was she paiufully homely. She was just a tall, well-formed, healthy American girl, such as you meet with in plenty in any community in the land. Her l;air was brown, her eyes were blue, her checks were red, and her teeth were white . these are the usual colors, I believe. Her tamper was quick, her disposition cheerful, her will honest nor are these qualities at all uncommon. She had been reasonably well educated for the period in which she lived, and in addition to what tiie had learned at the "Female Academy" she could sing a song, make a dress or cook a dinner happily, ability of this sort is not rare. There was noth ing extraordinary alout her from any point of view. Thousands of women like that Smiths, Joneses, Browns, etc. ore leing loved, wooed and married every day; and the future of the country de pends ujKn the steady continuance of a aypply adequate to meet the demand. As for Smith, the hero of this vera cious tale, his first name wag Thomas. Intimately abbreviated to Tom. If he could have won Ellen Jones for his wife, he would have been supremely happy as well as very fortunate. If Miss Jones had no family to speak of, Mr. Smith had ab solutely none at all. He had been raised I use the word advisedly, it was more like raising then rearing in an eleemosy nary institution to wit, a public orphan asylum. The superintendent of the in stitution, not being gifted with imagina tion, had named him Smith. He had a regular list of names for the. foundlings which he bestowed upon his charges in unvarying succession, and Smith fell to the lot of this unfortunate. One of the women attendants had further called him "Tommy" after her sweetheart. To iden tify the little waif from the New York streets and to differentiate him from other "Tom" Smiths, of whom there were not a few, the authorities had inserted a mid dle name. He had been picked up in Beekman street, and in the records his full name, therefore, ran this way, Thomas Beekman Smith. He was an unusually bright boy and as homely as they make them freckled, red headed, and, for all his name, evidently of Irish parentage. He was a jolly, cheerful, willing, hard-working little rat, however, who dearly loved a joke, yet who was as ambitious as a ward politician. The superintendent of the orphan asylum hap pened to have a brother who was a cap tain in the I'nited States navy, one of the old-time, "1N1'," sailing-frigate captains. The superintendent's interest had been excited by young Smith. He had com municated some of this interest to his brother, and in short, at the age of eleven the boy went to sea as a captain's servant. By and by old Commodore Bainboro, observing there was good stuff in the lad, had hi in warranted a "reefer." Smith went through the usual course of the young aspirant in those days. He served creditably as a midshipman in the Mexi can war, and thereafter, being still young enough, sought and received permission to go through the Naval Academy, from which lie graduated in the class of Ti2. Behold him in the fall of 1801 a full fledged lieutenant in the I'nited States navy, still freckled-faced, still red-headed, still homely, still fond of a jest, still happy, and still ambitious also in love. He was one of those rare mortals who can be happy, ambitious and in love at one and the same time. The war between the States had just begun. Opportunities for distinction would be many. That some of them should fall to bis lot and be embraced according ly was the determination of Smith. He owed everything to the United States, and was resolute to discharge some of the obligations. Things did not look very promising at first, however. Being with out influence for old Commodore Bain boro was long since dead the best as signment he could get for duty at the outbreak of the war was the old-fashioned sailing frigate St. Lawrence. Smith had promptly applied for an appointment to one of the new steam sloops-of-war, but his application had been passed over and he had been relegated to his useless relic of the past. The commander of the St. I-iwrence was Commodore Hiram Paulding, who had been a midshipman in the War of 1S12 and commended for his gallant con duct while executive officer of the Tieon deroga at the battle of Lake Champlain. The veteran also chafed at his relegation to the St. I-awrence, but there was no present help for it. In modern times he would have been retired long since, so he might perhaps consider himself lucky at being given any command at all. As I have paid, the war had just begun. Blockade-running was in its infancy, pri vateering in behalf of the Confederates was, however, beginning vigorously. Had it not been nipped in the bud by the prompt efforts of the Federal cruisers it might have done enough damage to have rendered unnecessary the appearance of ths Alabama later on. The United States had proclaimed n blockade of the southern coast, but as yet it was laxly maintained, owing to paucity of force, and the Con federate privateers came and went pretty much as they pleased. The St. Lawrence, attached to the North Atlantic blockading squadron, had I been out two months and hail not made a single capture. Officers and men were disgusted. Why they should have expect I ed to capture anything in a sailing vess.'l i when the Confederates usually employed the swifsrst steamers for privateers and blockade-runners is a question. One af ternoon in late July the St. Lawrence utii'cr easy sail was swinging along to the southward of Cape Hat terns. A week before she had been sokeu by a dispatch boat, which had transmitted a general order from the flag otliver commanding the squadron to the effect that a certain Con federate privateer called the l'etrel was fitting out in Pamlico sound for a dash to sea, and that all the M'.iips of the squad ron were cautioned to look out for her. "Nice notice to send us," remarked Smith, who was the executive officer ef the frigate, to the second lieutenant of the ship. "We couldn't catch her with this old hooker if she were anchored. Oh, why don't they lay up this tub as a gnardo or store ship somewhere and give us a chance in a steamer? something that has heels as well as guns?" This was a poser for the second lieu tenant, lie did not attempt to answer it. but left Smith, who was enjoying a leis ure hour, standing on the lee side of the quarter deck 'staring over the rail at the empty sea and vacant sky to starboard. Empty sea and vacant sky? Well, not quite. When there was nothing else to command his attention Smith could al ways see Ellen Jones in the ambient on the horizon. He was looking straight west. Beneath the sky line some fifty miles away rose the low sands of the chain of islands that separated Pamlico and Abemarle sounds from the ocean. On one of the broad estuaries of Pamlico sound stood the home of old Major Jones, Ellen's father. For aught Smith knew the object of his dreams was there. At any rate, he did not know that she was anywhere else, and he embodied her there without hesitation. Major Jones was of somewhat humble English birth. As a child he had come to the United States with his elder broth er, a man of much shrewdness and mer cantile ability. The elder Jones, who had settled in North Carolina, had amass ed a considerable fortune. With an Eng lishman's love for iosition, he had suc ceeded in getting a commission in the army for Ellen's father. While Smith had been stationed at the Brooklyn Navy Yard and Ellen's father at Governor's Island, the young people had met. Smith had loved madly, Ellen had been deeply interested. Her father had been abso lutely opposed to Smith's wooing. He had sent him about his business ; his brother's influence had been exerted, and the young man had been ordered away on a three years' cruise in Asiatic waters, whence he had just returned at the outbreak of the war. The year before that Major Jones' brother had died, leaving him all his prop erty in North Carolina. The Major had resigned his command and gone down to live on his brother's plantation, taking with him his daughter, his only child. Ellen, save for her inclination towards Smith, was still heart-whole and fancy free. It is falsely urged that the absent are always wrong. Someone has said that a proverb is a lie or a platitude. In- this case the wise saw quoted above was both. If she had been allowed free and unre stricted intercourse with the homely Mr. Thomas Beekman Smith. Ellen Jones might have found it impossible to have made him the object of her romance which is uoitig contrary to all the theories stated in the introduction! However that may be, severed from him by the stern edict of a practical parent, the interest engendered by the ardent wooing to which she had been subjected ripened into a deeper feeling. She grew to love the ab sent sailor almost as the absent sailor loved her. For his sake she had refused many offers of marriage which she had rceived both from the army and from the surrounding people of her North Carolina home. It is not only the superlative wom en who have men at their feet, be it re membered. The social position of the Jones family in proud, aristocratic tide water North Carolina was only fair. Yet Major Jones had money, his daughter was distinctly likable, and of young visitors the plantation had not a few. Smith had come back from his Asiatic cruise with a determination, fruit of three years of absence and repression, to seek Ellen and take her. willy nilly, for his own. The war had interrupted all that. When he might see her now was a ques tion. (To be continued.) 1n, cards can no traced banc for thou sands of years by the Chinese. Their New Year's visiting curds are curiosi ties. Each one sets forth not, only the name, but all the titles, of its owner,, and, us all Chinamen who have nny social position at nil have about a dozen, it innkes the list quite appalling. These curds are made of bI lie or else of line paper bucked with silk and are so large that they have to be rolled up to be carried conveniently. They nre, In deed, so valuable that they are return ed to their owners. NEW YEAR THOUGHTS. The Magi came, at Christ mast ide, Into the night, with gifts resplendent Coursers, camels, robes of pride, Wealth of satellites dependent! They came with pomp; they came from far, And followed fast the "Morning" Star! Low, in a cradle made of hay, A monarch from the heavens lay 1 Was it a king in glory dight? No 'twas a cherub in pink and white! It, too, had traveled alone from far. And came in the arms of the "Eveniug" Star ! Which of the twain shall we worship most, The Star with the train and the splendid host The Star of triumph? the Star of power? Or the Star that twinkles at twilight hour? The "Love Star" tender? Now, watch and see, It is the Magi bend the knee! Ah, glory of genius, pride or wealth! Splendor of wisdom, knowledge, health ! Powers of busy brain and feet, All of tlie treasures of earth complete ! Spirit of beauty and love, at last, At Thy tiny feet, all crowns are cast! John Ward Stinison. iiietisiil Horse' Seimn of Daniter. That a horse has the Instincts of impending danger was demonstrated the other afternoon when tin animal be longing to M. D. Swisher, county road overseer, refused to act on the bit, run up the mountainside and saved its rider from death in a cloudburst, says the Cripple Creek correspondent of the Denver News. Swisher was riding along Box can yon, a narrow gulch, when the horse turned from the road, and paying no attention to the rider ran up the moun tain side and stopped on a ledge twenty feet above. Swisher was mystified un til he saw water about eight feet deep rushing- down the canyon tearing up bushes and upending everything mov able. The water was from a cloudburst about half a mile farther up the gulch and the horse had beard the noise of the rushing water before the rider. Half a mile of the Rx canyon road lending to Florissant was washed out and bridges carried away. Swisher re mained on the mountain side for an hour before he considered It safe to re enter the ennyon. Companionship Ilarrrd. "Rastus," said the man who gives advice, "if you want to prosper In thin world you must go to bed with the chickens." "Yasslr," answered Mr. Pinkley. "I'i wlllln' to go to bed wlf Vm. But d folks dat owns chickens aln' sufficient ly trustful." Washington Star. Mr. and Mrs. Reminiscent sat com fortably back In soft leather chairs, watching the crackle and Maine of u real log In the grate. "What an odd custom it Is, isn't It, John that of hanging up one's stock ing on Christmas eve?" said ifrs. It. "Yes, It is queer. I wonder who first thought of It?" "I haven't the faintest Idea. In fact, I never even wondered about It be fore." "That part of It doesn't matter, af ter all," observed Mr. Reminiscent. "It isn't necessary to know the origin of everything In this world. But that stocking Idea was a good one. Do you know, of all the memories of my life, I believe that of hanging up my stocking on Christmas eve and look ing Into It In the morning was really the happiest !" "I hadn't thought of it in years." but now that you mention it, I believe I agree with you," and as she stopped speaking, Mr. Reminiscent looked it little more thoughtfully into the fire. "Isn't It odd, too, the way one re-.memlM-rs those things?" said John. "Why, I know just the way that stock ing felt, when I was a little toddler, and used to hang mine up. The first ones I remember were red." "Mine were black, always. I think." "Yes, dear. I was older than yon. Black ones became the fashion soon after I put on long trousers. But the first stockings I bung up were red." Mrs. Reminiscent smiled. "And did you wear copper-toed shoes, John?" "'es," he admitted, slowly. "I think I did!" "How perfectly delicious! I wjsh I could have seen you !" "I don't blame you for laughing. I think it must have been funny. But I had good times In those old days!" Mr. Reminiscent leaned a little more comfortably back, and was silent ab sorbed In the tender thoughts of those red stocking days away back forty years ago. "John, dear," said his wife, who had kept quiet as long ns possible. "Yes?" "Were there ever any holes In those red stockings?" "Io you know," he laughed, "I was Just thinking of that. I guess as long as hoys have toes, there will be holes In stockings. I was Just thinking r one Christmas when I had hung up n pair of stockings with n hole In the toe. I can see that Jumping Jack's leg that was sticking out of that hole. In the morning. Just ns plainly as if I were looking at It now! Isn't It queer that we don't forget those little things, when so many bigger things since then have gone completely from our memories?" "I'll wager you can't tell what I gave you for Christmas last year!" laughed his wife, apropos of testing the idea. Mr. Reminiscent thought a moment and then shook his head. "I haven't the faintest idea!" "A solid silver toilet set." "And I us,? the things every day! Well, it's funny. Isn't It? And yet I can remember everything that was In th stocking with that Jumping Jack. There was a brass stem-winder watch, for one thing." Mr. Reminiscent was silent again. He was looking so serious that, after watching him curiously for a while, his wife laughingly asked what was the matter. "I was thinking of that watch," he answered. "Well, what became of Itl "It was a rare toy. In those days, and until that moment of my life I had never possessed anything so perfectly wonderful. It made more noise than a clock, to wind It up, and then it would go like lightning, for a few seconds. have never known time to fly as fast ns It did on that watch," and he laugh ed as he thought of the way the little brass hands flew around the dial. "What finally became of it, dear? Did you wear it with your red stock ings and copper toes?" He shook his head negatively. "I think the ending of that watch was the greatest blow of my life. You know Stanislaus Blank?" "Yes, of course. Your cousin that yon don't like." "He was at our house that Christ mas. He was a few years older than We sleep, but the loom of life never stops, ami the pattern which was weav ing when the sun went down Is weav ing when It comes up in the morning. II. W. Needier. We nre not In this world to do what we wish, but to be willing to do that which It is our duty to do. Gounod. It is the every days that count. They must be made to tell, or the years have failed. W. 0. Gannett. Soberly and with clear "yes believe In your own time and pluci. There Is not, there never litis been, a better thin . or a better place to live in. Only with this belief can you believe in hope. Phillips Brooks. We may make the best of life, or we may make the worst of It, and It de pends very much upon ourselves wheth er we extract joy or misery from It. Smiles. The darkest shadows of life are those which a man himself makes when he stands in his own light. Lord Ave bury. Our life is short, but to expand that span to vast eternity is virtue's work. Shakspeare. The hour that is gone I cannot recall, but to-morrow I will do hotter than yesterday; and all tomorrows shall be better than the yesterdays. Let us "leave behind our low-vaulted past." Dyer. Life Is fruitful In the ratio In which it is laid out in noble action or pa tient perseverance. Llddon. A f" Chi-lftMnaa. Every Christmas should be a new center of Christ-life in this world That Is what Jesus meant when lie said, "The kingdom of God Is within you." He wants us to be so filled with his life that his Influence shall pour out through our lives for the brighten ing and sweetening of the world. He wants us to start n new Christmas every day, wherever we are. J. R. Miller. A Backward Look. Chrls'nius kin be made so mnch pleasanter ef the stern - pa runt will 'THE WORLD IS MINE." I, and It makes a good deal of differ ence between the ages of 0 and 10. I handled that little brass watch as If It had been sacred. But about an hour after I had taken It out of my stocking, 'Stan' got It away from me." "John !" "Yes, he did! And when I cried, he called me a baby. So I choked down my tears, and didn't even tell anybody, because he threatened to call me a tattle-tale if I did." "And didn't he ever give it back?" "Yes later in the day. But by that time he hail broken the stem winder, and the rest of the works. I know you have wondered why I never liked Stanislaus Blank, but I have never told any one before." "But you didn't cheat him In busi ness the way he said you did, hist year?" "No, dear. I never cheated any one. I Just got him In a corner, that was all. AjkI all the time he was wom'.ng for fear he was going to lose his money, I was thinking of that little brass watch and the way he made me suffer when h took It away from me. Maybe it wnsn't a very manly spirit, but I can't help It. It's human nature, and a fellow Is awfully human when he's onlv fi I" Detroit Tress. !Ww Yrar'a Call. The custom of visiting and sending presents and cards on New Year's day Is recorded almost as far hnck as his tory goes. The practice of using vlslt- on'y let his min' wander hnck tew the time-when he made a dash fur the ol chimney-piece himself. N. Y. Truth. A MlniiiiilerMtandlnnr. "I notice Jenks doesn't speak to you. What's the matter?" "I can't help it. I started to talk to him about Christmas decorations the other day and he thought I lefcfTed to the black eyes he got in a broil with a mutual friend recently." Judge. 'Tbi Kver Thaw. Ted I've been trying to catch Dolly under the mistletoe, but Miss Autumn seems to be the only one I can find there. Ned It seems to be an instance of the wrong girl in the right place. Judge. Chrlntma a( tha Huni-tUng llnn It 'M 1 s Mrs. Eaton House Well, you've got the largest piece of the wlshlmne, Mr. Sklnnle! Now, what do you wish for? Orvllle Sklnnle A larger piece of the meat, ma'am.
