Ottumwa semi-weekly courier. [volume] (Ottumwa, Iowa) 1899-1903, 1900-02-01
"A TALE OF LIFE IN THE
BOER REPUBLIC.



he said in an aggrieved tone Of voice.
eve heard you when came in, and
then you've just left off. You treated
me like that from the first day, and
| you couldn't tell from just looking al
me that l couldn't talk about the things
| you like. I'm sure know as much
about such things as Waldo does" said
| Gregory in exceeding bitterness OF
| spirit.
Il do not know which things you re.
fer to. If you will enlighten me. am
quite prepared to speak of them," she
said, reading as she spoke.
sOh, you never used to ask Waldo
like that" said Gregory in more sore.
ly aggrieved tone than ever. ''You used
just to begin"
"Well, let me see," she said, closing
her book and folding her hands on it.
''There at the foot of the 'kopje' goes a
Kafiir. He has nothing on but a
blanket. He is a splendid fellow-siy
feet high, with a magnificent pair OF
legs. In his leather bag he is going to
fetch his rations and suppose to kick
! his wife with his beautiful legs when
he gets home. He has a right to. He
bought her for two oxen. There is q
lean dog going after him, to which.
suppose, he never gives more than u
bone from which he has sucked the
marrow. But his dog loves him. as his
| wife does. There is something of the
master about him in spite of his black.
ness and wool. See how he brandishes
his stick and holds up his headv'
"Oh, but aren't you making fun?''
| said Gregory, looking doubtfully from
her to the Kaf1r herd, who rounded the
"kopje."
"No; l am very serious. He is the
most interesting and intelligent thing
| can see just now, except, perhaps
Doss. He is profoundly suggestive
Will his race melt away. In the heat OF
% collision with a higher? Are the men
OF the future to see his bones only III
museums, q yestige of one link that
spanned betweensthe dog and the white
man? Heiwakes thoughts that run fal
out into the future and buck into the
past.
Gregory was not quite sure how to
take these remarks. Being about q
Kaffir, they appeared to be Of the ma
ture Of Joke; but, being seriously
spoken, they appeared earnesy. so he
half laughed and half not, to be on the
safe side.
1--WE often thought SO myself. It's
( funny we should both think the same.
! knew we should If once we talked.
But there are other things-love, now
he added. II wonder If we would thin!;
alike about that. wrote an essay on
love once. The master said it was the
best ever wrote, and can remember
the first sentence still-'Loye is some.
thing that you feel in your heart"
THAT was a trenchant remark. Can't
| you remember any moreY'
NO." said Gregory regretfully. i've
| forgotten the rest. But tell me what
do you Think about love"
A look, half of abstraction, half
amusement, played on her lips.
II don't know much about love-" she
! said, land do not like to talk OF
things do not understand, but have
heard two opinions Some say the dey-
il carried the seed from hell and plant.
ed 1t on the earth to plague men
| and make them sin, and some say
| that when all the plants In the gar.
den of Eden were pulled up by the
roots one bush that the angels had
| planted was left growing, and 1t spread
its seed over the whole earth, and its
name is love. do not know which is
right, perhaps both. There are differ.
| ent species that go under the same
name. There is a love that begins in
the head and goes down to the heart
and grows slowly, but it lasts till death
and asks less than 1t gives. There is an.
other love that blots out wisdom, that
is sweet with the sweetness Of life and
| bitter with the bitterness of death
lasting for an hour, but it is worth
having lived a whole life for that hour.
cannot tell Perhaps the old monks
were right when they tried to root love
out; perhaps the poets are right when
| they try to water it. 1t is blood red
flower with the color of sin, but there
L az s@ANAy . Vic SSCAS VI u Ssoo dOOuI
Gregory would have made remark
but she said, without noticing:
There are as many kinds Of loves as
| there are fiowers-everlasting that new.
er wither, speedwells that wait for the
wind to fan them out of life. blood red
| mountain lilies that pour their volup.
tuous sweetness out for one day and lie
in the dust at night. There is no flow.
err has the charm of all-the speed.
wells purity, the everlasting's strength
the mountain lily's warmth. But who
knows whether there is no love that
holds all-friendship, passion, worship
Such a love-" she said in her sweet.
est voice, will fall on the surface OF
! strong, cold, selfish life as the sunligh,
falls on a torpid winter world; there
| where the trees are bare, and the
ground frozen till it rings to the STEP
like iron, and the water is solid, and
the air is sharp as two edged knife
that cuts the unwary. But, when Its
sun shines on 1t, through its whole
dead crust a throbbing yearning wakes