San Marcos free press. [volume] (San Marcos, Tex.) 1877-1892, 1878-08-03

know 1t, Jane; but II you reius
to do these things, / must. / know
shall he Frustrated with the heat, ant
my nerves will be shattered, and yo'
are young and strong, and still attrac
tive enough to compete with any young
lady in the place, and might, verify
believe, if you were not so obstinate anC
headstrong, be surrounded and admired
as you used to be, and you might, fol
my sake, Jane, at least attend these lit
tie entertainments"
Mamma put her handkerchief to hel
eyes, and yielded; l groaned in flesh
and in spirit, but yielded. After had
tidied up the work, and settled mamma
in the cool shady sitting-room, upon her
favorite lounge, with n nice book at her
hand, and palm-leaf fan close by---for
the day was growing hot---I twisted up
my hair before the glass, with many a
sour hooking grimace at the dark, thin,
discontinued face therein, put on an ug-
ly brown linen dress, calabash of hat,
and went off to the church.
My mother looked after me with such
misery in her face that l called back to
her would wear something nice in the
evening.
"Will you wear your rose-colored
crapeP" pleaded mamma.
"Will | wear spangles, and jump
through n hoopP" l said. "No, man.
ma, I'll wear my black silk"
"And curl your hair?" she coaxed.
"There's whole switch already curl
ed for me up in my bureau drawer" l
replied. ats nice this hot weather to
have very little hair of ones own!"
"Don't scream sol" said poor mother,
looking towards the Hunters side-win-
dows.
As if the Hunters didn't know all
about my failing charms, and no doubt
took an inventory of them half yearly to
send abroad to the eldest son, who had
been away in China these five years and
more, and would likely never come back
again. At least he had written to me
to that effect when he went away. I had
the old letter yet in secret recess of
that same old bureau where lay the con-
venient switch of hair.
Time was when l needed no curls
shorn from maidens across the seas or
manufactured from home material. l
had plenty of my own. Jack Hunter
cut one of them off with his penknife
that night when we parted.
81 don't know" he said, savagely,
"whether | most hate you or love you
but III keep this to remember the girl
who firted and fooled away the truest
affection q man ever had for woman"
He hacked the curl from my head
with his pen-knife, and looked at me as
if he was half tempted to do me further
butchery; and God knows I didn't care
then if he had drawn the knife across
my throat; l should not have resisted
him.
"Don't 60, Jack!" l cried out at
last, holding the edge of his coat.
"Don't go, anyway, so far as China; if
you do, l shall commence to dig hole
when you get there. They say that
China is right under us, and I'll begin
with little pick and shovel as soon as
we get news of your arrival. Then you
can begin on your side, and We'll meet
each other half way"
He flung me from him with something
like an oath. "You would joke and
laugh over my grave" he said, and
went away, not to come back again.
Who would have believed it possiblep
That the years could come and go, the
sweet summers bloom and fade, the
heart of roses lose strength and fail and
fall away, to come again as sweet, as
strong, as fresh as ever, and Jack, my
Jack, never come back to me? Yet he
was not dead-n wed. That was one
good thing. And he was out ;here
among those women with narrow eyes
and stinted feet, and he didn't as yet
know word of the language. He was
growing fat, he wrote home to his peo-
pie next door, and bald, which didn't
matter on the top of his head so long as
he could keep enough to cultivate pig
tail. This was necessary, as he meant
to set up for Chinese mandarin, and
was already embroidering gown for
the purpose on spare nights. And l
felt, when they read ME the letter, that
it was Jacks turn now to make merry,
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