The professional world. (Columbia, Mo.) 1901-192?, 1903-07-24
CHAPTER VIII.

On the morrow there was a song and
a chant In the cotton fields. Aged
fingers and youthful hands we're eager
with grabbing the cool, dew-dampened
bandana handkechiefs, and pictures.
quesly down the rows their red heads
were bobbing. Whence came their
tunes, so quantity weird, so boisterous
and yet so full Of melancholy. The
composer has sought to catch them,
has touched them with his refining art
and has spoiled them. The playwright
has striven to transfer from the field
to the stage a cotton-picking scene
and has made q travesty of 1t. To
transfer the passions of man and to
jointed rules. but the charm of a cot
ton-picking scene is an essence, and is
breathed but cannot be caught. Here
seems to lie a sentiment that no other
labor invites, and though old with a
thousand endearments, II is ever an
opera ~rehearsed for the first time. But
this is the view that may be taken
only by the sentimentalist, the poet
lettering along the lane. To him 1t is
a picture painted to delight the eye, to
soothe the nerves, to inspire a pastoral
ode. There is, however, another side.
At the edge OF the field where the cot
ton Is weighed, stands the planter
watching the scales. His commercial
instincts might have been put to
dreamy sleep by the appearance of the
purple bloom, but it Is keenly aroused
by the opening boil, He is influenced
by no song, by no color fantastically
bobbing between the rows. He is alert,
determined not to be cheated. Too
much music might cover a ra.cally
trick, might put a clod in the cotton to
be weighed. Sentiment is well enough.
and he a get IL by turning to Walter
Scott.
None of the planters was shrewder
than the Major. In his community he
was the business as well as the social
model. At planting, at blowing and at
gathering, no detail was too small or
too Elusive TO escape his eye. His
interests were under a microscopic
view and all plans that were drawn
in the little brick Office at the corner
Of the yard, were vigorously carried
out in the fields. In the one place he
was all business; in the other there
was in him an admixture of good hui
NOR and executive thoroughness. He
knew how many pounds of cotton a
certain man or woman was likely to
pick within the working hours of a day
and he marked the clean and the
trashy pickers; and the play of his
t~wo-colored temperament was seen in
his jovial banter of the one and his
hash reprimand Of the other. But TO-
day a hired man stood at the scales to
see the cotton weighed. The Major
walked abroad throughout the fields,
AS he drew near, the negroes hushed
IhVA ooh6o hOiA b tuih'
They bowed respectfully to him and
to one another whispered his afiiction,
At noon, when he returned home, the
housekeeper told him hat his wife
was away. He sat down In the library
to wait for her. Looking out he saw
Sallie Pruitt carrying a jug across the
yard. A few moments later he asked
for Tom and was told that he had just
left the house. He tried to read. but
nothing interested him. There was
nothing but duIlness In the newspaper
and ever Ivanhoe had lost his charm
1t was nearly three o'clock when Mrs
Cranceford returned. He did not ask
/ whittier she had gone; he waited to be
told. She sat down. taking off her
gloves.
did you see Mr.. Purdue?" she ask
ed.
mo, / have seer no one. Don't care
, much to see any one"
II didn't know but you might have
met him. He was here this morning
, Told me about Louise"
1 "What does he know about herr
"He told me where she
has gone TO live-in that -
old log house at the end ~
of the Anthony place" rM
"Welb go on, Pm list ySa
t ening." G%@&
81 didn't know that "[AZ3XE&.1
you cared to hear" ~ G~s
r "Then why did you be- f IL
l gin to tell me?" n
She did not answe the
queotion. She waited for
him TO say more. "Of
course I'd like to know what has be
come of her"
. 81 went over to see her." said Mrs
S Cranceford.
"The deuce you did"