The Hood River glacier. (Hood River, Or.) 1889-1933, 1903-08-13
Mother Mississippi's Voice


/ with us most pleasant and comfort
able"
Mr.. Yates glanced wildly toward the
shore. 1t was slipping away from
them. They were In midrstream-and
the man at the window was Allen
| Houston.
Retreat was impossible Graceful
capitulatlon was inevitable. Yates put
out his hand.
Thereafter he divided his time be-
tween the deck, which he paced with
his daughter, telling her lively yarns
Of his own days as rlver-boat clerk,
and the office, where he shared Hous-
tons preOceupation with his duties.
There was something familiar about
it all--the pleasant familiarity which
takes 10 years Off mans shoulder.
And Houston understood the work,
just as Yates had understood it years
before. Where he had started, HOus-
ton was starting.
Some times watching his daughter g
face, he wavered. But no; 1t was Inn
possible. His own case had been ex-
ceptional All river-boat clerks could
not be milllonaires, and Houston was
merely of good, upstate family,
without social standing in the world
where Mammon ruled.
Yet Mr.. Yates found himself watch
ing young Houston curiously. He
wasn't half bad, this college-bred
youth, who could dispatch office duties
with ease, placate patrons who fret
ted at the slow method of travel, and
in an emergency could tell the deck
hands more things about their ances-
try than Yates had dreamed of In
his own river life.
They had quit the bluffs. and cotton
had given way to cane and rice. In a
few hours they would touch at New
Orleans The deck hands had all been
paid off, save for the dollar which in
sured their aid in tying the boat to
! the dock.
The clerks duties were over, his pa
pers in shape, and the last landing
made. Mr.. Yates met him on the sa-
loon deck, and remarked, Lets go be-
low and watch those darkies lose all
their money"
The old life had him in its clutches.
Down below they went. Away in
the stern the engines pounded To
ward the bow the furnaces glowed.
Between the two, roustabouts had
gather to gamble their earnings. Some
of the negroes were already penniless.
Others were fiushed and excited by
their gains.
Yates watched the scene for an hour,
laughing at the apt remarks of the
gamblers. Wall street was forgotten.
Social ambitions died within him He
was again in Aliens place, a clerk
without future, without great hopes
Suddenly he turned:
Man, they are happier than l have
dared be since stood where you are
to-day. | am wondering whether 1t is
worth while-the struggle, the knock
out blows one must give and take,
Mother Mississippi has been talking to
me, Houston; scoldlng me in her own
way, Edith told me once that money
was not all and l reckon she Ia
right. At any rate, you may ask her
IL she still believes that. If she does
l won't stand between you"
An hour later the boat slipped
around the crescent, past the Goa
docks and the fruit docks to the
levees. The rush of the water and
the rudely melodlous voices of the
negroes singing at their work, mingled
with a strange harmony.
In the bow of the Valley Queen
Edith Yates stood with her hand clasp
ed in her lovers her expectant glance
fixed on the quaint old city.
In the stern, looking backward upon
the river, whose voice he had needed
Henry Yates stood with folded arms
He was wondering whether he should
ever go back to the mad struggle
and the social walls he had striven SC
hard to climb-for her sake.-Bosto1
Globe.