Hopkinsville Kentuckian. [volume] (Hopkinsville, Ky.) 1889-1918, 1901-02-01
HER HERO
BY Elizabeth NJ. Gilmer.
@&&%A%@%@A4AA%%%%%%&%%%%%4
Copyright 1900, the Authors syndicate)

NW2S MORGAN kept working
IVI mems boarding house, down
near he railroad tracks and per-
etual odor Of fried steak and on
ions and boiled cabbage pcryaded
the dingy halls, and salutei you as
YOU opened the front door Life there
resolved itself into a procession Of
tired men who stumbled up the steep
steps at night, or heaved themselves
down at the table and ate rayenouslH
of the heavy food, or smoked short
pines i'm their shirt sleeves on the door
step i'm the evenings. 1t was the last
place on earth where you would have
looked for romance. yet. nevertheless
it was the home Of an idealist whose
soul scared lar above her sordid sur
roundings, into a world of fancy where
such things as grimy men with cal
loused palms were unknown, and
putty pipe would have been an impos-
sibility
This was Mrs. Morgan's daughter
Mamie. Mrs. Morgan, in talking aboW
her. always dwelt fondly on the fact
that Mamie had had advantages.
which, being interpreted, meant that
she had been ground through few
grades in the public school, where she
had acquired. passion for novel read
| ing and n profound contempt for the
! station in life to which she had been
born. In her mothers adoring opinion
| this passed for culture, and she never
| looked at Mamie's soft white hands, so
different from her own work-haTdened
ones, or at Mamie's slim young figure
in it's pretty, cheap fnery, so different
from her own toll bent one, without a
thrill of pride that she had raised
the girl above herself.
The little tragedy OF the mother who
makes a willing slave Of herself in order
to indulge her daughter is so common
we scarcely notice it, Assuredly
neither Mrs. Morgan nor Mamie saw
anything strange or culpable in the
mother spending her days cooking end
less meals, washing endless dishes,
and making endless beds, while the
girl gossiped with her friends in the
shabby parlOr, or read the novels in
which her soul delighted.
Mamie don't take to housework,
and she amt got to, long as l live" her
mother would say, and left free TO fol-
low her own devices Mamie reveled in
mrid rOmances where the beautiful but
impeeunious and lOwly born heroine is
importuned by Sir Reginald de Mont
mOrenci to share his coronet, or where,
after impossible scenes of carnage and
daring, the hero succeeds in rescuing
the noble Lady Clara De Beauchamp
from her enemies and is rewarded with
the hand Of that august and frigid lady
in marriage
If she had only been content with
what real life had to offer her, Mamie
would have had no time to find her love
stories in books. She was an extremely
pretty girl, with skin like milk, and
eyes as blue as a summer sky, and there
was no lack OF honest-hearted young
fellows who would gladly have mar
ried her, but she would have none of
them.
shes looking out for one of them
hero chaps what wears silk hats, and
smokes cigarettes, and don't get his
hands dirty, like what's in them books
she's always reading" one of her dis.
comfted suitors had declared, resent
fully.
"An' what il ! am, Sim Reeves" she
had flashed baclS in sudden wrath,
what il am looking for man what's
got more spunk than to sit down cross
legged and sew an patch all day like
woman Anyway, don't you worry.
When | start out to look for hero
won't come round your way"
Other men had come and gone, and
paid their court to the romantic and
scornful maiden, and had taken their
blighted affections elsewhere for con.
ISOLATION, but Tim Nicely had been faith
full through it all.
He was a big, good-natured teamster,
with hand as large as a sledge ham.
merand as gentle as a child's. For three
years he had occupied Mrs. Morgan's
second story back, and during all that
time he had laid patient siege TO Ma.
mics heart, with devotion as faithful
as a dogs lie surrounded her with
boundess love and tenderness, but he
was too humble to urge his own merits,
least OF all to dream how much too good
he was for the silly, selfish girl
I'll know / amt much 10 lool
at liks them isllers what's yours Al,