davidaulloa/AmericanStories huggingface dataset:
The St. Louis Republic. [volume] (St. Louis, Mo.) 1888-1919, 1901-03-17
AMERICAN

Fl greatest collection Of books of Ameri-
can poetry In the world Is owned by Brown
University. 1t consists Of more than 5000
volumes. It was bequeathed to the UNIVERSE
ty by Senator Anthony In 1884. and is known
as the Harris Library. It Is related that
william Cullen Bryant. In the course Of a
correspondence with Mr.. Harris concern
Ing this collection. wrote:
Your work has amazed me by showing
me what multitude Of persons on our side
of the Atlantic have wasted their time in
writing verses in our language"
AS an illustration of the value Of some
Individual books in this library It may he
said that Mr.. Harris paid s125 for an edi-
ton or the poems Of Anne Bradstreet. the
earliest poet Of New England. who came
over In 1890. Among other valuable first
editions in the collection are Longfellow's
"Evangeline." copies Of which lave sold
for So. and Whittier's "Moll Pitcher"
which has brought 800. The library is very
complete In sonsbooks. says the New Ha-
ven Register. college and fraternity song
books. Masonic %songbooks, temperance
%songbooks and songbooks Of negro min
strels, slavery and the rebellion.
Albert Gorton Greene. the original coll
rector OF this library. graduated from
Brown In 1870. was a Judge of the Munich
pal Court and became an enthusiastic bibli-
ophile. When he died in 1858 his collection
OF Americana. consisting Of 1000 volumes.
came into the possession of Caleb Fiske
Harris. who had a great love of books. and
bought In every quarter of the globe with
little consideration Of price. He died in 1881.
Senator Anthony purchased that part Of
his library relating to American poetry,
and added to It his own fine collection.
From him the library passed to the uniyer-
sity.
This collection. rich as 1t was, has been
made more valuable by the addition of books
procured at the sale Of the private library
OF Thomas ]. Mckee of New York-such
books as were not to be found in the Har-
rts list. 1t is now possible to estimate
poetry literally by the mile, with
the conviction that much of it is better for
measuring than for reading purposes.
The St. Louis Republic. [volume] (St. Louis, Mo.) 1888-1919, 1901-03-17

cropped hair, just beginning to turn
gray. AS Maisie had remarked, he
Cooked somebody" and his appearance
did not belle him, for he was Herbert
| Musgrave, Earl of Burniston. the last
| remaining member Of an old and dis
, tinguished family.
1T was not much of an adventure, aft
err ALL" said Maisie to herself. as she
%quickened her pace. 1t was nearly Q. and
visions of Mrs. Rantwell in n fine
frenzy" lowered before her mental gaze.
rs that you, Maisie? What luck" ex-
claimed a familiar voice as she turned
a corner, and n tall. well-groomed young
fellow Of two or three and twenty, with
a frank, boyish expression, intercepted
her rapid progress.
1T is not at all luck. Do not make me
late. Tom," vas her somewhat petulant
reply. Then, with a cOquettish glance
up at his bewildered face, she added:
Il am so glad l did not meet you SOON
err" 1t is rather a discouraging thing to
have fixed one's affections on an object
entirely out of ones reach-an object,
moreover, which laughs at its worshiper
and his devotion both openly and fire.
quently, and this was what had &C.
Cured in the case of Tom Lawrence,
subaltern in the Derrydown Fusiliers.
Have you been meeting any other
fellow?' he asked, dismally.
"Of course l have" answered Maisie,
with a mischievous laugh. But 1 can't
waste any more time talking to you.
Mrs. Rantwell will be simply raging.
Good-by."
And with a parting smile she left him,
while he stood gazing after her with 4
most di%sconsolate expression of counte-
n
When Maisie returned that evening to
the bosom of her family she found that
the depression reigning there in the
morning hours had given place to wild
excitement.
WHO do you think has been here?"
inquired Ida, in q brisk voice, very un-
IKE her usual world-wearied accents.
The man who is mending the kitchen
boiler" said Maisie, prosaically. Her
mood was by no means so lively as it
had been earlier in the day, and some
The St. Louis Republic. [volume] (St. Louis, Mo.) 1888-1919, 1901-03-17

haps l evolved it from my inner con-
seriousness. Anyhow, it is true"
You will be late, dear, IL you do not
make haste" murmured Mrs. Moore,
rousing herself from a mental calcula-
ton as to how long the sugar might be
expected to last.
Maisie went Over to the mirror and
| gave an affectionate pat to the golden
curls on her forehead, preparatory to
putting on her veil. She was u%ndeniably
a pretty girl. with her bright, piquant
face and dazzlingly fair complexion, and
even a badly cut and ill-fittlng ready
made jacket failed in Disgusting the
grace and suppleness of her figure.
She was n cheerful little soul, too, for
poverty weighed but lightly on her
spirits. and while Ida and Alice sighed
vainly for the Neutrality-suspicious. of life
Maisie looked forward with hopeful con-
fdence to a sunny future.
Il am really off now, Mumsie," she
said, when the thick veil had been ar
ranged in a satisfactory manner-"of to
meet my fate"
AS she stood on the doorstep fastening
the last button Of her glove, she glanced
hastily round her, while a little smile
crossed her lips.
L uOpe 1Om won I Ue tue uTSC person.
I meet" she murmured to herself. THAT
would spoil it all; and l should enjoy an
adventure of some kind, If only to prove
to Ida that everything Is not for the
worst in this worst of all possible
worlds as she would describe it."
Before she had gone more than a few
yards she saw a tall figure approaching
in her direction. and a second glance told
her that it was a stranger and not the
inevitable Cousin Tom.'
Here is my Valentine!!' she reflected.
, 1T is a pity he does not realize the
, fact! He is a trifie elderly, but he looks
as if he We're somebody"
Then the newcomer passed her. with
a careless glance at the fair, piquant
face of the little maiden, who was walk
ing most demurely, with her eyes on the
ground.
He was a man of apparently So or So.
with a sun-tanned skin. somewhat stern,
strongly marked features, and closely
The St. Louis Republic. [volume] (St. Louis, Mo.) 1888-1919, 1901-03-17
HAMLET'S GRAVE.

From the YOUTHS Companion.
THE most famous of all ghosts. perhaps
certainly the ghost most widely known TO
the English-s speaking race-is that mailed
and solemn phantom of a dead King that
walks the embattled walls Of Elsinore IN
the first act Of Hamlet" Mr.. Jacob Riis.
by birth a Dane, by adoption n New York
er. well known for his enlightening STUDIES
OF How the Other Half Lives" In the
slums of the metropolis. has recently re-
visited his native land, and has recorded his
Impressions of Hamlet's castle-the castle
of kronberg. Elsinore.
More ghosts-if memories. too. are ghosts
than that of the royal Dane haunt Its
long Corridors. sea-blown battlements ano
gloomy dungeons. There are dreadfui
stories of prisoners kept underground untii
their death: of one who laughed with JOY
when brought up once more. although u
execution. Into the light of the sun. There
is also the horror of that walled-up alcoVe
in the sixteen-foot thickness of the foun-
dalton walls where thirty poor wretcnes'
their skeletons discovered only a genera
ton ago. were immured to perish together'
no one knows why or when. In one OF the
little tower chambers Queen Caroline
| Matilda was kept n prisoner. and cut upon
the w~indow-pane with a diamond her pite-
Gus pray err, Keep me Innocent: make 9TH
ers great"
Yet so great Is Shakespeare's magic that
all these true things Of Elsinore sink lnto
insigniicance beside that other thing whlcn
never happened there. A King Hamlet ana
a Prince Hamlet there were, II the olo
c%hronicler. Sax Grammaticus, may be be-
lieved, but they antedated Kronberg Castle
by many years. A company OF strolllnS
English actors. Of whom three were AFTER
ward fellow players with Shakespeare, per-
formed in the great hall Of the castle-tne
record Is yet preserved-and to them'
doubtless, when he chose a Danish story, no
went for local coloring and scene. His de-
scription is as correct as 1t is picturesque.
To the average British tourist. however.
Elsinore is the actual as well as poeticai
habitat Of Hamlet and his fathers ghost'
and II he does not quite aspire to meet tne
one when he takes n moonlight view OF the
scene. at least he expects by plain daylight
to find historic traces of the other. These
the amiable Danes have taken pains to
provide.
Hamlet being dead" says Mr.. Rils:
there had to be q Hamlet's grave. OF
course. The English tourists demanded 1t.
and in due course Of time there appeared .
mound on the bluf marked with a plain
granite shaft that bore the name OF the
melancholy Dane. The ~relic-hunters Clipped
1t to pieces in one brief season. The hotel
keepers provided another, and 1t went the
same way. When last I stood at Hamlet's
grave 1 beheld 1t a mighty heap of stones
and Stag. several carloads. My friend,
one of the solid citizens of the town, nodded
knowingly at my amazement.
I've caught up with them at last he
said. we just have enough carted out
from the glass works every year to fill up
let them go ahead. Want to go and look
at Ophelia's spring.
THE dry ring in his voice did not escape
me, and l begged to be excused"
The St. Louis Republic. [volume] (St. Louis, Mo.) 1888-1919, 1901-03-17

This was the stage at which the af-
fair had arrived on the night Of Mrs.
Rantwelrs at home" and it was upon
his occasion that Lord Burniston had
resolved to ascertain what fate the fu-
ture held in store for him. Tom Law
renee had come to the same decision.
The newcomers appearance on the
scene had at first beer q severe shock
to his eve sanguine anticipations, but
Maisie's apparent Indifference to his
wealthy rival had wonderfully revived
his courage, and hope whispered the
fattering tale that q dinner Of herbs"
garnished with the sauce of an honest,
doglike affection, might possibly be pre-
ferred to a dish of stalled OK and the
BurnistOn diamonds. The owner Of
these sparkling gems watched Maisie
and her cousin that evening with somber
eyes. The girls black, gauzy gown fitted
her to perfection, and cOntrasted well
with the snowy whiteness of her neck
and arms. Her cheeks were flushed with
n delicious rose-colOr, and there was a
softened expression on her upturned
face as she listened to her companions
low-toned conversation. They were well
matched in their youth and loneliness,
she and this young soldier. he reflected
bitterly. What chance had he, a man
who had been in the world for over half
a century and had Outlived most Of its
pleasures and every one Of its illusions,
ever with his wealth and title to back
him?
1t was nearly midnight before the OPP
pOrtunity for which he had been longing
was given to him. Tom. by special desire
of his hostess. had reluctantly left his
cousins side, and was escorting a weary
chaperon to refresh her inner woman in
the dining-rOom. and Maisie was sitting
alone, with a somewhat pathetic express
sion at the corners of her pretty mouth.
May l take you into the refreshment
room?" he asked her, rather stiffly.
NO, thanks; l am quite happy here"
DO you object to my society?" he con-
tinued.
Maisie glanced up at him and then
hastily averted her gaze. She was never
quite at her ease with this stern-look-
ing man. and tonight there was an IN
The St. Louis Republic. [volume] (St. Louis, Mo.) 1888-1919, 1901-03-17
Concord HYMN.

(Sung at the completion of the Battle
Monument, April 10. 1867
By the rude bridge that arched the flood,
Their flag to April's breezes unfurled,
Here once the embattled farmers stood.
And fired the shot heard round the world
TIE foe long since in silence slept:
Alike the conqueror silent sleeps:
And Time the ruined bridge has swept
Down the dark stream which seawart
creeps.
On his green bank. by this soft stream,
We set to-day a votive stone;
That memory may their deed redeem,
When, like our sires. our sons are gone.
Spirit. that made those heroes dare
To die, and leave their children free,
But Time and Nature gently spare
The shaft we raise to them and thee.
Ralph Waldo Emerson.
The St. Louis Republic. [volume] (St. Louis, Mo.) 1888-1919, 1901-03-17
EATING TOO MUCH.

From the Youths Companion.
A PHYSICIAN who had resided in a small
tow for nearly a quarter of a century and
had accumulated a competence, was in a
reminiscent frame one day, and said 10 q
friend:
1T may seem strange to you, but three
fourths OF my practice Is among the farm
ers living within a radius of ten miles
around this own / have Travelled every
road and lane In this neighborhood hundreds
of times and know every foot Of them
Farmers g to be the healthiest people
awe. but there Is somebody sick in their
families nearly all the time. They habit
ually eat too much. Their systems become
clogged. and instead Of starving themselves
well. they send for the doctor"
Why don't you tell them so?" asked his
friend.
Il used to do SO. but 1t offended them.
and they dismissed me and sent for some
other doctor. So in many cases 1 have
given them mild medicines. and told them
they must eat little or nothing for two or
three days, in order to give the medicines a
The St. Louis Republic. [volume] (St. Louis, Mo.) 1888-1919, 1901-03-17
Y IN AMERICA.

IF Thackeray had been minded to make a
book out of his American experiences ne
abandoned 1t at starting. says the BOOK
man. "As for writing about this country"
he says in a letter from Boston to his old
friend. Mrs. Proctor. about Goshen. about
Canada flowing with milk and honey, about
the friends I have found here, and who are
helping me to procure independence for my
children, II 1 cut jokes against them, may l
choke on the instant. If I can say any
thing to show that my name Is really
Makcpeace, and to increase the source Of
love between the two countries. then please
God l will. The laugh dies out as we get
old. you see. but the love and the truth
don't. praised be God! and 1 begin to think
of the responsibilities of this here pen now
writing to you witt a feeling of no small
awe. The first name l heard in the rail-
road going hence to New York was my own
by a pretty child selling books. So. here
1t is after fifteen years. think 1. here's the
fame they talk about. My impression.
though, was one of awe and humility. ra-
The St. Louis Republic. [volume] (St. Louis, Mo.) 1888-1919, 1901-03-17

definable change in his manner, which
rendered her shier than usual. As a
rule, bashfulness and Maisie Moore were
two very distinct things, aud this excep-
ton, being unprecedented, caused her
some alarm.
Come out Of this crowd" he said
presently. Il want to talk to you" and,
without waiting for her reply, he Of
fered her his arm with an air of au-
thority and led her into a dimly lighted
anteroOm filed with the fragrance OF
yiolets and s~tephanOtis. It Is difficult,
when the theme is perpetually the same,
to vary the words of the .old. old
story" and Lord Burniston was neither
more eloquent nor original than is the
case with nine men out Of ten in a SIM
liar situation. He made himself intelli-
g1ble, however. and, after all, that Is the
great point in these matters, and then he
waited slowly andN rather fearfully for
Maisie's answer.
DO you remember when and where
you first saw mey' was her apparently
irrelevant remark.
He gazed at her in q bewiIdered fash
ion.
"Of / do. 1t was In street,
about the middle Of February. and I
thought, as l do now, that you were the
prettiest girl 1 had ever seen. And you
you thought me an old fogy, I suppose.
II you noticed me at ala"
A half-mocking, half-tender CLEAN
shone in Maisie's blue eyes as she
raised her dropping lashes and looked
him full in the face. Shall 1 tell you
what l thought?' she murmured. 1T
was Valentines Day, and 1 thought you
were my Valentine, as-as you are,"
And so Maisie was married. But the
worst Of it was. as she was wont to
complain in her confidential moments,
that no n realized the romance Of the
affair and that lookers-on believed her
actuated by a love Of diamonds and
pretty frocks, and other material ad-
vantages, instead of, as was actually
the case, an ardent, enduring affection
for the stern-faced man who was mope
thaA thirty years her senior.
The St. Louis Republic. [volume] (St. Louis, Mo.) 1888-1919, 1901-03-17
A Serpnade.

Look out upon the stars. my love.
And shame them with thine ewes.
On which. tina on the lights above,
There hang more destinies.
Nights beauty Is the harmony
OF blending shades and light:
Then, lady. up-look out. and be
a sister to the night!
Sleep not! thine image wakes for aye
Within my watching breast:
Sleep not! from her soft sleep should fly
Who robs all hearts of rest.
Nay. lady, from thy slumbers break,
And makes this darkness gay
With looks, whose brightness well might
make
OF darker nights a day.
-Edward Coate Pinkney.
The St. Louis Republic. [volume] (St. Louis, Mo.) 1888-1919, 1901-03-17

who did anything" were distinctly in
| the minority.
Maisie Moore, in a brand-new frock,
was one Of the pretticst girls in the
J room. Mrs. Rantwell had taken one of
her sudden and violent fancies for her
typewriter, whom she knew to be a lady
by birth. and-which was n great deal
more to the purpose-Lord BurnistOn
had fallen in love with her and had
wheedled his friend the novelist into
sending her a card. So there she was,
finding 1t a little difficult to realize the
situation.
Six weeks is q short time, measured
chronologically, but it seemed to Mai
sic that, judging by an emotional stand
ard, a century had elapsed since that
foggy morning when she had set out so
gayly to meet her Valentine.
Lord Burniston had taken kindly to
his newly found kinswomen. He had at
first sought their acquaintance on nc
count of a bygOne service rendered him
by the father, but after he had seen
Mafsie gratitude to the dead became
merged In warm admiration for the liv-
Ing, and the hitherto cold and urim-
questionable bachelor Of 50 lost his
heart in a highly unreasonable and IT.
rational manner to a girl of barely 81.
Maisie's mother looked on and trembled.
The tide had come in the affairs of the
Moore menage. but would her daughter
be wise Il Ugh to take it at the turn
which leads to fortune? That was the
question, and 1t was one which per-
picked her day and night. Ida, as usual,
regarded the matter through the grayest
Of smoke-colored glasses, and gave it as
her opinion that Maisie preferred i'm
pecuniosity and Cousin Tom." thus
openly expressing the secret fears of
both Alice and Mrs. Moore. But Maisie
kept her W counsel. She knew that
by lifting her little finger she could be
transformed into a f%ull-fedged Countess.
for the devotion Of her elderly admirer
was writ large upon his expressive
features; but, Notwithstanding this
knowledge. she carefully avoided all
chances of a ~tete-a-tete, and threw cans
of m%etaphorical cold water upon mis- but
thinly yelled hopes
The St. Louis Republic. [volume] (St. Louis, Mo.) 1888-1919, 1901-03-17

One day through the primeval wood
A calf walked home as good calves should
But made n trail all bent aSkew,
A crooked trail. as all calves do.
Since then two hundred years have fed.
And. ! infer, the calf ia dead:
And still he left behind his trail,
And thereby hangs my mortal tale.
The trail was taken up next day
BY a lone dog that passed that way;
And then a wise be.l-wether sheep
Pursued the way DER vale and steep.
And drew the flock behind him. too,
AS good bell-wethers always do.
And from that day DER Hill and glade
Through those old woods a path was made
And many men wound In and out.
And lodged and turned and bent about;
And uttered words of righteous wrath.
Because twas such a crooked path;
But still they followed-do not laugh
The first migrations of that calf:
And through this winding woodway Stalked,
Because he wabbled when he walked.
The forest path became a lane
That bent and turned and turned again;
This crooked ane became a road
w mere MANY d poor uOISt WILL MS iodus
Toiled on beneath the burning sun.
And Travelled some three miles in one;
Trd thus a century and a half
They trod the footsteps Of that calf.
The years passed on in swiftness fleet.
The road became a village street.
And this. before men were aware.
A city's crowded thoroushfare;
And soon the central street was this
OF n renowned metropolis.
And men two centuries and a half
Trod in the footsteps Of that calf.
Each day a hundred thousand rout
Followed the zigzag calf about:
And DER his crooked Journey went
The traffic of a continent.
A hundred thousand men were led,
one calf. near three centuries dead;
Then followed still his crooked way,
And lost one hundred years a day.
For thus such reverence is lent
well-cstab lished precedent.
Sam W. Foss.
The St. Louis Republic. [volume] (St. Louis, Mo.) 1888-1919, 1901-03-17

chance to take effect. Town people over
eat. too. mind you. but for reasons easily
explained. they don't eat as much or as
hearty food as the farmer and his family
do. BY the way, Chester" he said. turn
ing to his office assistant, who had just
come in. didn't Uncle Hank Roughrider.
Just south of town. kill his hogs two or
three days ago."
Yes. sir" replied Chester.
ri have q call to attend a case Of
malaria or something of the sort in that
family from eating too much sausage and
pigs feet. inside of twenty-four hours
predicted the physician.
And even as he spoke Uncle Hank Rough
rider drove up to the office. tied his horses
to the bitching post and hurriedly came in.
The St. Louis Republic. [volume] (St. Louis, Mo.) 1888-1919, 1901-03-17
AT PARTING.

THE time has come when Ger the placid
stream
OF things that were the portent Of a
change
Is imminent. We try to rearrange
Our vision and gaze backward; thus we
deem
Ourselves enabled to retain our dream.
Awhile we play our foolish game. and
strange
New pleasure take in old past Joys that
range
The lengthy gamut through. We try to
seem
Contented. sorrow waiting at the door!
Inexorable Time demands his pay,
Postponement is not eckoned In his lore:
Our payment must be made Each pre-
cious day
We ~grudgingly eXpend-we have no more
Then. bankrupt stand and face the part
ing way.
Ada Eugene Fischer. IN the Bookman.
The St. Louis Republic. [volume] (St. Louis, Mo.) 1888-1919, 1901-03-17


W never go to meet of set purpose the
important things of this life. We turn a
corner suddenly. and come upon them all
at once"
II am of now, girls" remarked Mai
sic, as she pushed back her chair. And
it is a most exciting moment, because
the first man l meet will be my Valen-
tine"
1t was the 18th of February, but, in
stead Of the blue skies and golden sun
shine. which, according to the eternal
fitness of things, should usher in the
feast Of the patron of lovers, it was a
dull, ~leaden-hued day, and, with u ex-
ception, depression reigned supreme at
the Moores' breakfast table. That eX-
ception was Maisie.
You will not meet any one more in
teresting than the grocer's boy" replied
Ida, languidly, in answer t. her sisters
speech. She was a fair haired pessimist,
holding very decided views concerning
destiny, and it was her opinion that
nothing but i'll luck was in store for
the Moore family. Certainly, they had
had their share. There was a time when
invitations to Mrs. Moore's dinners and
dances were eagerly looked for, and
when her three daughters. then in the
nursery, reveled in the possession of
costly toys and ACCOMMODATED frocks.
Then, later ON, the crash came. Mr..
Moore had specialized rashly, and the
famous company in which he had put
his trust and his money collapsed like
a glittering soap bubble, leaving him
stranded on the rocks of restitution.
His wife, however, had a modest in
come of her own, and it was upon this
that after her husbands death she and
her three girls struggled for existence.
Alice was a telegraph clerk, Ida gave
music lessons. and Maisie, who had gone
In for typewriting. acted as secretary to
the celebrated novelist, Mrs. Rantwell.
whose new book was the topic of the
moment.
"Grocer's boy indeed.'' she said. with
a little toss OF her head. You have no
imagination, Ida. Who is it that saws
there is a possibility lurking round ev-
cry corner! Or did any one say it? Per-