The true Democrat. [volume] (Bayou Sara [La.]) 1892-1928, 1898-07-16

i ly care in the
! dingy, nnkempt
little dining room; the wooden walls
. we're dirty and bare of adornment, the
table was Uttered with old books and
ragged, much worn newspapers, while
the floor looked asif it werea stranger
to the broom.
watched the girl closely, but the
trader took no notice, he seemed alb
sOrbed in his sului, OF native cigarette,
which gave forth great clouds of smoke
at each vigorous puff. The 1.-the, slen-
der wrists, with muscles like fine
drawn wire, were wringing out the
iau, Or strainer of bark fibre, with
which the pounded kava root is sep
arated from the water. The yise-like
grip on the fibre never ceased until
every drop Of juice had been expressed,
and then, with a pretty, graceful ges-
ture, she tossed the strainer over her
shoulder to a boy standing outside,
who shook the dry dust free, and threw
ii back.
Again and again the process was re-
peated. With the utmost care every
4 grain of sediment was drawn from the
bowl, and the dark brown liquid,
nauseous but refreshing, was ready.
The first cup seemed to arouse the
old mans dormant loquacity.
"She is a strange girl" he re-
marked, letting his eyes rest for a mo-
ment on the kava maiden. "Not like
any Of the other Malays. I can't make
her out. She never goes gadding
about with the other girls nor firts
with the young men. She just stays
quietly at home and refuses all the
suitors who ask for her hand. She
might have been married q dozen
times during the past year had she
chosen"
'Perhaps--' and I hesitated.
He nodded. eyes, perhaps she has
an eye on this establishment"
There was no trace of uuseemly
levity in his tone. [ waited in re-
Speetful silence, for he was one o.
those kindly gentlemen who veal
their hearts upon their sleeves, and
knew that he would, if left to do it il
his own way, tell me the tragedy o:
bis life.
He took another bowl of kava, rolled
fresh cigarette and sighed.
smoked patiently. Then he rose, and
opening q small writing desk which
stood in corner, drew from it an ole
and faded photograph.
"There is my wife," he said.
it was just an ordinary common pic
ture, taken by cheap photographer
and, thanks to the climate, rapid,
fading into obscurity. One coulC
make out the features or Mala,
woman, rather stout and showil,
dressed, a baby in her arms and lit
Tie girl Of about two years holding Of
by the skirts.
AS work of art it was beneath con
tempt, but the old man handled i
feverently, and, before he spok
again, laid the picture back in in it
receptacle.
TITS fading quickly" he remarked
sSorrowfully, though I keep it fror
the light all I can. 1t was taken by
travelling photographer in New Britai
Just before. But it's all I hay
lett Of her. There's only the boy an
lalone now"
A smile lit up his thin face. 'Her
ne u.s." he exclaimed, as q fine littl
fellow of about ten years rushed int
the room. "Faa- mole-mole, pa" be
gan the youngster, in that strang
mixture of Samoan and English whic
ma boys speak in this country
lnen he stopped, noticing my pres
ence.
AL right, Jacky," said the father
giving the curly head a kindly pa
go and say talofa to the gentleman.
ana oashfully the boy, who had nc
seen a strange white man for months
se'a out his hand, and then took th
uts1 opportunity Of escaping from th
room to join his playmates.
He's all I have left" continue
.le trader, "and I'm doing my best
Uslns him up as an Englishman. B1
Saat can do here? He must pla
Slsn the Samoan boys, or with no on
snu cannot afford to send him ava
~ school. The little girls better Of
sues gone with a missionary to Sy,
uey' and he takes good care of he