(I'se gwine ter wed ter-morro'.)
I lobes your earnings thro' an' thro'.
(I'se gwine ter wed ter-morro'.)
Now, heah de truf. I'se mos' nigh broke;
I wants ter take you fer my yoke;
So let's go wed ter-morro'.
Now, don't look shy, an' don't say no.
(I'se gwine ter wed ter-morro'.)
I hope you don't expects er sho'
When we two weds ter-morro'.
I needs er licends--you know I do--
I'll borrow de price ob de same frum you,
An' den we weds ter-morro'.
How pay you back? In de reg'ler way.
When you becomes my honey
You'll habe myself fer de princ'pal pay,
An' my faults fer de inter's' money.
Dat suits you well? Dis cash is right.
So we two weds ter-morro' night,
An' you wuks all de ter-morro's.
FOOTNOTE:
[26] Copyright, 1909, by the Author.
ETHELBERT D. WARFIELD
Ethelbert Dudley Warfield, historical writer, was born at Lexington,
Kentucky, March 16, 1861, the brother of Dr. Benjamin Breckinridge
Warfield, the distinguished professor in Princeton Theological Seminary.
President Warfield was graduated from Princeton, continued his studies
at the University of Oxford, and was graduated in law from Columbia
University, in 1885. He practiced law at Lexington, Kentucky, for two
years, when he abandoned the profession for the presidency of Miami
University, Oxford, Ohio. In 1891 he left Miami for the presidency of
LaFayette College, Easton, Pennsylvania, where he has remained ever
since. In 1899 Dr. Warfield was ordained to the Presbyterian ministry.
He teaches history at LaFayette. Besides several interesting pamphlets
upon historical subjects, Dr. Warfield has published three books, the
first of which was _The Kentucky Resolutions of 1798: an Historical
Study_ (New York, 1887), his most important work so far. _At the Evening
Hour_ (Philadelphia, 1898), is a little book of talks upon religious
subjects; and his most recent volume, _Joseph Cabell Breckinridge,
Junior_ (New York, 1898), is the pathetic tale of the years of an early
hero of the Spanish-American war, graphically related.
BIBLIOGRAPHY. _Munsey's Magazine_ (August, 1901); _The
Independent_ (December 25, 1902); _The Independent_ (July 13,
1905).
CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS
[From _The Presbyterian and Reformed Review_ (April, 1892)]
Columbus is one of the few men who have profoundly changed the course
of history. He occupies a unique and commanding position, seeming to
stand out of contemporary history, and to be a force separate and
apart. He is the gateway to the New World. His career made a new
civilization possible. His achievement conditions the expansion and
development of human liberty. His position is simple but certain. His
figure is as constant and as inexorable as the ice floes which girdle
and guard the pole are to us, or as the sea of darkness which he
spanned was to his predecessors. He inserted a known quantity into the
hitherto unsolvable problem of geography, and not only rendered it
solvable, but afforded a key to a vast number of problems dependent
upon it, problems not merely geographical, but economical,
sociological and governmental as well.
Yet in all this there mingles an element of error. Great events do not
come unanticipated and unheralded.
"Wass Gott thut, das ist wohl gethan,"
sang Luther, knowing well that God hath foreordained from the
foundation of the world whatsoever cometh to pass. "In the fullness of
time" God does all things in His benign philosophy. In the fullness of
time man was set in the midst of his creation; in the fullness of time
Christ came; in the fullness of time God opened the portals of the west.
If the Welsh were driven on our shores under Madoc, if the Norsemen came
and sought to found here "Vinland, the good," they did not light upon
the fullness of time. God had no splendid purpose for the Welsh; the
Northland force was needed to make bold the hearts of England, France,
and Italy, to unify the world with fellow-service in the Orient, to
break the bonds of feudalism, and to wing the sandals of liberty. As
Isaac Newton sat watching the apple fall in his garden, he was but
resting from the labor of gathering into his mind the labors of men who
had in this or that anticipated his discovery of the law of gravitation.
In all scientific advance many gather facts. One comes at length and in
a far-reaching synthesis arranges the facts of many predecessors around
some central truth and rises to some great principle. So generalizations
follow generalizations, and the field of truth expands in ever-widening
circles from the central fact of God's establishment. Columbus is not
like Melchisedec. He had antecedents--antecedents many and obvious. The
highest tribute we can pay him is to say that he fixed upon one of the
world's great problems, studied it in all its relations, embraced clear
and definite views upon it, and staked his all upon the issue; and that
not in a spirit of mere adventure, but of dedication to a noble purpose.
He gave to a speculative question reality, and thereby gave a hemisphere
to Christendom.
But like the girl who admitted the Gauls to the Capitol at Rome in
return for "what they wore on their left arms," Columbus was
overwhelmed by the reward which he demanded for his services. Without
natural ability to command, and without experience, he demanded and
obtained a fatal authority.
EVELYN S. BARNETT
Mrs. Evelyn Snead Barnett, a novelist of strength and promise, was
born at Louisville, Kentucky, June 9, 1861, the daughter of Charles
Scott Snead. On June 8, 1886, Miss Snead became the wife of Mr. Ira
Sayre Barnett, a Louisville business man. Mrs. Barnett was literary
editor of _The Courier-Journal_ for seven years, and her Saturday page
upon "Books and Their Writers" was carefully edited. She did a real
service for Kentucky letters in that she never omitted comment and
criticism upon the latest books of our authors, with an occasional
word upon the writers of the long ago. She was succeeded by the
present editor, Miss Anna Blanche Magill. Mrs. Barnett's first story,
entitled _Mrs. Delire's Euchre Party and Other Tales_ (Franklin, Ohio,
1895), the "other tales" being three in number, was followed by
_Jerry's Reward_ (Boston, 1902). These novelettes made clear the path
for the author's big novel, _The Dragnet_ (New York, 1909), now in its
second edition. This is a great mystery story, one reviewer ranking it
with the best detective tales of the present-day school. The American
trusts and the hearts of women furnish the setting for _The Dragnet_,
which is bigger in promise than in achievement, and which bespeaks
even greater merit for Mrs. Barnett's new novel, now in preparation.
BIBLIOGRAPHY. _Kentuckians in History and Literature_, by J. W.
Townsend (New York, 1907); _Who's Who in America_ (1912-1913).
THE WILL[27]
[From _The Dragnet_ (New York, 1909)]
Soon after their return, the Alexanders were forced to move to town.
Charles needed the time he had to spend on the road going to and fro,
and he was unwilling to put unnecessary hours of work on Trezevant,
who not only bore his share during the day, but was sleeping with one
eye open in a dingy corner of the shops. As the Dinsmore was
expensive, they rented a modern flat, with tiny rooms, but plenty of
sunlight. Constance knew they could save here, especially as Diana
still wished to make her home with them.
Finally, the last day at Hillside came.
Charles drove Diana and Lawson to town, to get things ready there,
leaving Constance to see the last load off, and to make sure that
everything was in good shape for the Clarks, who intended to take
possession in the spring. Constance went into every room, list in
hand, checking the things the new owners had purchased. Then she tried
the window bolts, and snapped the key in the lock of the front door.
She blew the horn for the brougham. The coachman came up. In a
business-like, everyday manner, she ordered him to drive to town, and,
getting in, without one look from the window, she left Hillside.
When she arrived at the new home, she was pleased to find that Diana
and Lawson had arranged the furniture in the small rooms, and had a
dainty little luncheon awaiting. As she was sitting down to enjoy it,
her first visitor rang the bell--Aunt Sarah, just returned from the
East and the latest fashions, looking younger than ever, and with a
torrent of society gossip that was almost Sanscrit to Constance,
occupied so long with the realities.
"What was your idea, Constance, in coming to this tiny place?" she
asked, when she had given a full account of the delights of her
summer.
Constance hesitated, but only for a moment. "Economy," she said,
boldly.
Aunt Sarah looked anxious. "My dear child, has your husband been
preaching? Don't let him fool you; they all try it. It's a trick.
Every now and then they think it their duty to cry hard times, when it
is no such thing. You go to scrimping and saving, like an obedient
wife, and the first thing you know he buys an automobile or a yacht,
or wants you to give a ball."
Constance smiled. "But this is real, Aunt Sarah. You know we are
fighting a big trust, and while, eventually, we expect to win, we have
to be content with little or no profits for a few years."
"Trusts! Profits! What difference do they make as long as you have a
steady income of your own?"
Constance was debating with herself whether she ought to speak plainly
and have it out with the Parker pride then and there, or wait until
she were not quite so tired and unstrung, when she was happily spared
a decision by her aunt's switching off to another track.
"Talking of money reminds me that I heard a piece of news to-day," she
said, lowering her voice in deference to Diana's presence behind thin
walls. "I heard that Horace Vendire made a will shortly after his
engagement to ---- and has left her millions."
"Oh, aunt! I wonder if it is true! How dreadful it would be!"
Aunt Sarah put up her jeweled lorgnette. "Constance Parker, what on
earth is the matter with you to-day? You seem to be getting everything
distorted, looking at the world upside down. It's that country
business--" she continued emphatically; "the very moment you developed a
fondness for that sort of life, I knew you were bound to grow careless
and indifferent in thoughts, ways, and opinions. People who love the
country always seem to think they have to sneer at civilization."
Constance was too tired to argue, and too disturbed over the last
piece of gossip to explain; so she said weakly that she supposed she
had changed, and let the rest of the visit pass in banalities.
The next day a little lawyer sprang a sensation by notifying those
whom it concerned that he held the last Will and Testament of Horace
Vendire, duly signed, attested, and sealed in his presence, a month
before the disappearance.
Charles came to tell the two women.
"No, no!" cried Diana: "It's a mistake! He did not intend it to stand!"
"You surmise the contents of the will?"
"If it was made only a month before he disappeared. Had he lived, he
would have altered it. I begged him to. Must I go to the meeting of
the heirs?"
"I think it is best. Cheer up; there are many things worse than money.
Constance and I will go with you. Mr. James is back, and has asked us."
So Diana went, and she could not have looked more terrified had she
been listening to the last trump, instead of to the smooth voice of a
young lawyer reading the bequests of her dead lover.
The will was dated, July 26th, 1900. By it, Horace Vendire's life
insurance was left to his brother James, an annuity of five thousand
dollars to his mother, and an income of only three thousand a year to
his fiancee, Diana Frewe, as long as she remained unmarried. It was
evident to Charles that Vendire did not wish to give her enough to
help her friends. The residue, and, eventually, the principal, were to
be used in building and endowing the Horace Vendire Public Library in
the city of New York.
In a codicil, he directed that his stock in the American Blade and
Trigger Company should be sold, the directors of that company being
given the option of buying it at par before it was offered elsewhere.
Mr. James Vendire was the first to congratulate Diana.
"Oh, don't!" she cried, shrinking from his proffered hand. "I cannot
bear it. It is yours; you must take it." She grew almost incoherent.
Constance petted and soothed. "Be still, dear. Remember you are weak
and unstrung. We will go home now, and see what can be done later."
FOOTNOTE:
[27] Copyright, 1909, by B. W. Huebsch and Company.
JOHN PATTERSON
John Patterson, "a Greek prophet not without honor in his own American
land," was born near Lexington, Kentucky, June 10, 1861. He was
graduated from Kentucky State University in 1882; and the following
year Harvard granted him the degree of Bachelor of Arts. He took his
Master's degree from Kentucky University in 1886. The late Professor
John Henry Neville, one of Kentucky's greatest classical scholars,
first taught John Patterson Greek; and to his old professor he is
indebted for much of his success as a teacher of Greek and a
translator and critic of its literature. Professor Patterson's first
school after leaving Harvard was a private one for boys near Midway,
Kentucky; and he was for several years principal of the high school at
Versailles, Kentucky. His first book, _Lyric Touches_ (Cincinnati,
1893), is his only really creative work so far. It contains several
fine poems and was widely admired at the time of its appearance. In
1894 Professor Patterson was made instructor of Greek in the
Louisville High School, which position he held for seven years. His
first published translation was _The Medea of Euripides_ (Louisville,
1894), which he edited with an introduction and notes. This was
followed by _The Cyclops of Euripides_ (London, 1900), perhaps his
finest work hitherto. In 1901 Kentucky University conferred the
honorary degree of Master of Literature upon Professor Patterson; and
in the same year he helped to establish the Patterson-Davenport school
of Louisville. In 1907 he became professor of Greek in the University
of Louisville; and since September, 1908, he has been Dean of the
College of Arts and Sciences of the University with full executive
powers, practically president. His institution granted him the
honorary degree of LL. D. in 1909. Doctor Patterson's latest work is a
translation into English of _Bion's Lament for Adonis_ (Louisville,
1909). At the present time he is engaged upon a critical edition of
the Greek text of the _Lament_.
BIBLIOGRAPHY. _Library of Southern Literature_ (Atlanta, 1909), v.
ix; _Who's Who in America_ (1912-1913).
A CLUSTER OF GRAPES[28]
[From. _Lyric Touches_ (Cincinnati, 1893)]
Misty-purple globes,
Beads which brown autumn strings
Upon her robes,
Like amethyst ear-rings
Behind a bridal veil
Your veils of bloom their gems reveal.
Mellow, sunny-sweet,
Ye lure the banded bee
To juicier treat,
Aiding his tipsy spree
With more dulcet wine
Than clover white or wild woodbine.
Dripping rosy dreams
To me of happy hall
Where laughter trims
The lamps till swallow-call;
Of flowery cup and throng
Of men made gods in wit and song.
Holding purer days
Your luscious fruitfulness,
When prayer and praise
The bleeding ruby bless,
And memory sees the blood
Of Christ, the Savior, God and good.
Monks of lazy hills,
Stilling the rich sunshine
Within your cells,
Teach me to have such wine
Within my breast as this,
Of faith, of song, of happiness.
CHORAL ODE (ERIPIDES' MEDEA, LINES 627-662.)
[From the same]
The loves in excess bring nor virtue nor fame,
But if Cypris gently should come,
No goddess of heaven so pleasing a dame:
Yet never, O mistress, in sure passion steeped,
Aim at me thy gold bow's barbed flame.
May temperance watch o'er me, best gift of the gods,
May ne'er to wild wrangling and strifes
Dread Cypris impel me soul-pierced with strange lust;
But with favoring eye on the quarrelless couch
Spread she wisely the love-beds of wives!
Oh fatherland! Oh native home!
Never city-less
May I tread the weary path of want
Ever pitiless
And full of doom;
But on that day to death, to death be slave!
Without a country's worse than in a grave.
Mine eye hath seen, nor do I muse
On other's history.
Nor home nor friend bewails thy nameless pangs.--
Perish dismally
The fiend who fails
To cherish friends, turning the guileless key
Of candor's gate! Such friend be far from me!
FOOTNOTE:
[28] Copyright, 1893, by Robert Clarke and Company.
WILLIAM E. BARTON
William Eleazar Barton, novelist and theologian, was born at Sublette,
Illinois, June 28, 1861. He reached Kentucky for the first time on
Christmas Day of 1880, and matriculated as a student in Berea College,
where he spent the remainder of the college year of 1880-1881, and four
additional years. During two summers and autumns he taught school in
Knox county, Kentucky, then without a railroad, taking long rides to
Cumberland Gap, Cumberland Falls and other places which have since
appeared in his stories. The two remaining vacations he spent in travel
through the mountains, journeying by Ohio river steamer along the
northern counties, and by horseback far into the Kentucky hills in
various directions. In 1885 Mr. Barton graduated from Berea with the B.
S. degree; and three years later the same institution granted him M. S.,
and, in 1890, A. M. He was ordained to the Congregational ministry at
Berea, Kentucky, June 6, 1885, and he preached for two years in southern
Kentucky and in the adjacent hills of east Tennessee, living at Robbins,
Tennessee. Mr. Barton's first book was a Kentucky mountain sketch,
called _The Wind-Up of the Big Meetin' on No Bus'ness_ (1887), now out
of print. This was followed by _Life in the Hills of Kentucky_ (1889),
depicting actual conditions. He became pastor of a church at Wellington,
Ohio, in 1890, and his next two works were church histories. Berea
College conferred the honorary degree of Doctor of Divinity upon Mr.
Barton in 1895; and he has been a trustee of the college for the last
several years. He was pastor of a church in Boston for six years, but
since 1899, he has been in charge of the First Congregational Church of
Oak Park, Illinois. Dr. Barton's other books are: _A Hero in Homespun_
(New York, 1897), a Kentucky story, the first of his books that was
widely read and reviewed; _Sim Galloway's_ _Daughter-in-Law_ (Boston,
1897), the Kentucky mountains again, which reappear in _The Truth About
the Trouble at Roundstone_ (Boston, 1897); _The Story of a Pumpkin Pie_
(Boston, 1898); _The Psalms and Their Story_ (Boston, 1898); _Old
Plantation Hymns_ (1899); _When Boston Braved the King_ (Boston, 1899);
_The Improvement of Perfection_ (1900); _The Prairie Schooner_ (Boston,
1900); _Pine Knot_ (New York, 1900), his best known and, perhaps, his
finest tale of Kentucky; _Lieut. Wm. Barton_ (1900); _What Has Brought
Us Out of Egypt_ (1900); _Faith as Related to Health_ (1901);
_Consolation_ (1901); _I Go A-Fishing_ (New York, 1901); _The First
Church of Oak Park_ (1901); _The Continuous Creation_ (1902); _The Fine
Art of Forgetting_ (1902); _An Elementary Catechism_ (1902); _The Old
World in the New Century_ (1902); _The Gospel of the Autumn Leaf_
(1903); _Jesus of Nazareth_ (1904); _Four Weeks of Family Worship_
(1906); _The Sweetest Story Ever Told_ (1907); with Sydney Strong and
Theo. G. Soares, _His Last Week, His Life, His Friends, His Great
Apostle_ (1906-07); _The Week of Our Lord's Passion_ (1907); _The
Samaritan Pentateuch_ (1906); _The History and Religion of the
Samaritans_ (1906); _The Messianic Hope of the Samaritans_ (1907); _The
Life of Joseph E. Roy_ (1908); _Acorns From an Oak Park Pulpit_ (1910);
_Pocket Congregational Manual_ (1910); _Rules of Order for
Ecclesiastical Assemblies_ (1910); _Bible Classics_ (1911); and _Into
All the World_ (1911). Since 1900 Dr. Barton has been on the editorial
staff of _The Youth's Companion_. The _locale_ of his novels was down on
the Kentucky-Tennessee border, amid ignorance and poverty--a background
upon which no other writer has painted.
BIBLIOGRAPHY. _The Nation_ (August 9, 1900); _The Book Buyer_
(November, 1900); _The Independent_ (July 7, 1910).
A WEARY WINTER[29]
[From _The Truth About the Trouble at Roundstone_ (Boston, 1897)]
The winter came and went, and the breach only widened with the
progress of the months. The men dropped all pretense of religious
observance. They grew more and more taciturn and sullen in their
homes. They cared less and less for the society of their neighbors,
and as they grew more miserable they grew more uncompromising. When
little Ike was sick and Jane going to the spring just before dinner
found a gourd of chicken broth, so fresh and hot that it had evidently
been left but a few minutes before, she knew how it had come there,
and hastened to the house with it. But Larkin saw the gourd and at a
glance understood it, and asked,--
"Whar'd ye git that ar gourd? Whose gourd is that?" and snatching it
from her, he took it to the door and flung it with all his might.
Little Ike cried, for the odor of the broth had already tempted his
fickle appetite, and Larkin bribed him to stop crying with promises of
candy and all other injurious sweetmeats known to children of the
Holler. But when the illness proved to be a sort of winter cholera
terminating in flux, he was glad to maintain official ignorance of a
bottle of blackberry cordial which also was left at the spring, and
which proved of material benefit in the slow convalescence of Ike.
It was thought, at first, that Captain Jack Casey would be able to
effect a reconciliation between the men. He was respected in the
Holler, and was often useful in adjusting differences between
neighbors. He was a justice of the peace, for that matter, and had the
law behind him. But his military title and his reputation for fair
dealing gave him added authority.
He was the friend of both men, and had known them both in the army. He
was Eph's brother-in-law, beside, and their wives' friendship, like
their own, dated from that prehistoric period, "before the war."
But even Captain Jack failed to move either of the two enraged
neighbors.
Brother Manus made several ineffectual attempts at a reconciliation,
but at last gave up all hope.
"I'll pray fur 'em," he said, "but I cyant do no more."
Great was his professed faith in prayer; it may be doubted whether
this admission did not indicate in his mind a desperate condition of
affairs.
But there was one person who could never be brought to recognize the
breach between the families. Shoog made her frequent visits back and
forth unhindered. To be sure, Ephraim tried to prevent her. He scolded
her; he explained to her, and once he even whipped her. But while she
seemed to understand the words he spoke, and grieved sorely over her
punishments, she could not get through her mind the idea of an
estrangement, and at length they gave up trying to have her
understand. So, almost daily, when the weather permitted, Shoog
crossed the foot log, and wended her way across the bottoms to Uncle
Lark's. Larkin at first attempted to ignore her presence, but the
attempt failed, and she was soon as much in his arms and heart as she
had ever been; and many prayers and good wishes went with her back and
forth, as Jane and Martha saw her come and go, and often went a piece
with her, though true to their unspoken parole of honor to their
husbands, speaking no word to each other.
FOOTNOTE:
[29] Copyright, 1897, by the Author.
BENJ. H. RIDGELY