Wichita eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1886-1890, 1889-12-20
JACOBS FAULTS.

places on the hudson river that lie between
New York and Albany.
Jacob Raus was an inattentive observer of
the lovely phases of nature. He was preoc-
cupied with his own troubled soul, and here
was but wintry prospect. The world points
out to man the necessity of doing some
thing; there was no corresponding need in
his soul He had lately come into an excel
lent property, and had invested good por-
ton OF it in ranch in the west. The west
was no place of his choice, but what else was
he to do1 He was SO, and was without even
commercial training. He had been bred to
no profession, and he was not rich enough to
| live with rich men as pleasure seeker, even
had such life attracted him. He had per-
feet health was good shot, a good reader,
good walker, good companion. He wore
blonde beard upon his sunburned face, with
| its handsome, clean cU-' profile and hazel eyes,
This bald statement OF his case presented
| itself over and over to his mind, quite as if
! he were weighing an abstract question that
bored him excessively. Then he grew irri-
tated that his father should have given him
such an old fashioned, half humorous name
that exerted always an unspoken and only
! half recognized negative tyranny on his whole
| life; that his father should have had that IT,
responsibility III the paternal relation that is
| scarcely to be found outside of the Anglo
| Saxon race--as if the Anglo-Saxon was born
armed at all points and with an intuitive
| knowledge of fighting his way through the
world.
Now he was free at 32-a freedom that
meant bondage to his own limitations; and
while he regretted that he had no profession,
he bitterly recognized the fact that the desire
for a larger life in no sense proved talent.
His desire was, as we have said, not one for
action. 1t was a vague desire for larger
happiness, such as women have oftener than
men.
All these reasons for gloom were ever pres
ent to Jacob but he had lately walked to a
! more definite purpose and more definite
grief His decision to go on a ranch had made
him recognize that he could not leave Milf
cent Fuller, whom he had known from her
childhood, and who had been for some years
past half unconscious to himself his chief
temptation. He offered himself to her. She
refused him. She was the youngest and only
unmarried one of five sisters. She was %
years old, handsome, travelled and accom-
plished.
Jacob, as he walked through a shady road
cut fine bouquet of sweetbrier roses, and
trimmed their thorny, struggling stems with
an i'll humored energy. He had not pride
enough to go away without asking to see her
once more, just to say good by, and she had
accorded him an interview that evening at
7:30 o'clock.
He walked around the Fuller's large house,
past the broad piazzas, and found her alone
in little side porch that was overgrown with
honeysuckle vine, and amid their pinkish
yellow blossoms Millisent, in pinl, muslin,
looked like rosy June lpersonified. Her father
and mother had just gone to drive, she ex-
planned precisely as she took Jacobs silently
proffered flowers with a fine blush for thanks
81 am afraid" she said nervously as she
carefully picked a few thorns from the stem
of her bouquet before she grasped it, that
didn't succeed the other night in-that isl
mean that am afraid that didn't say what
meant"
81 should be glad" said Jacob, ito hear
that you didn't mean what you said"
''0h, no; didn't mean that!"
We'll, it doesn't matter a great deal what
you meant if you didn't mean that"
81 do wish that you would be reasonable,
Jacob"
II wish you wouldn't call me Jacob, when
you have told me that you didn't like that
name"
"Oh. Did I say that9 do think that
like it, since you have no other. Indeed.
Jacob, if it were not for some faults that you
have, think I should like you better than
any one"
The young man sat down on a step lower
than the one that the girl occupied
Perhaps" he said, gloomily, ''you will
discuss these faults of mine; may suggest
some to add to the list. My name is one;
but that is hardly my fault, and l believe
that could change it by an act of the legis-
lature or something of the kind"
''But should always know that your real
name was Jacob" said Milhcent, laughing;
81 shouldn't mind your name, but there are
some things that would grow worse and
worse"
MY age, suppose"
''Yes, for one thing. Ten years is too much
difference"
"But you viii grow older"
There viii still be ten years between us"
'The general opinion is that woman
grows old faster than man. You would
catch up to me-"
"Ahl that is like most general opinions,
wrong. l have made my own observations
on that subject. To the close observer, mid
die aged women are younger, even in appear
ance, than men of their own age"
Where did you learn SO much about
menu
Have l not been in all our large cities and
in most of those of Europei Can one not re-
ceive impressions of strangers as they pass,
and accumulated impressions form opinions
Mems eyes grow dull and the lines Of the
mouth hard, and the faces heavy and meager;
while women'S faces are still full OF benevo !
lence, though their figures have lost their |
grace and compilations their delicacy. Still /
those women are young"
Youth is then condition of the mind, |
wise SibylF'
Certainly, it is the capacity of receiving
new impressions, meeting cnes fellow beings
with sympathy, and undertaking new enter
prises."
''Some people must then be born with more /
capacity for youth than others"
TO be sure"
"And /, who have By sex and nature lea /
youth than you, and yet have wasted tea |
years more OF it, must sooner become like |
those horrid middle aged people"
81 am not speaking OF you"
"Ycu are not speaking Of mel How incon 4
seouent. sat down here to listen 10 tals 1
abnu. me Let US begin overEEaEsin- You /
have said that you do not Ike my name and .
that am too old"
"Oh, Jacobln
YES. | am too old, and am TO grow older
You have defined youth-what is agef'
'Ohi il is the enemy of the human race
Let Us never grow old. Jacob"
''Ah, no. Millicent. let Us never grow old.