The Daily Ardmoreite. [volume] (Ardmore, Okla.) 1893-current, 1910-11-08
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~ guests with five hundred on yes
terday afternoon in honor OF her sis
ter. Mrs. Ramey of New Jersey, anf
Miss Walters of Hinois, sister o
Mrs. Jno. Dexter. After the games
dainty luncheon was served.
*****
Mr.. and Mrs Les'ie Gordon Nib'dcl
of Guthrie announce the birth of q
daughter October 26, whom they have
named Lillian Elizabeth. Mrs. NiD-
lack prior to her marriage was Miss
Frances Haskell, daughter OF Cover
nor and Mrs. Charles y. Haskell.
BY todays vote Governor Haskell
loses one title, but has already re
ceiyed another - Grandfather Has
kell. You can't get ahead of Haskell
*#**~
For Mrs. Fish and Mrs. Pfeifer OF
Ardmore, Mrs 9 3. D1urlas cH;er
tained with pretty luncheon on
Wednesday. Covers were laid for six.
Mrs. Douglas entertained at luncheon
again on Thursday in honor of Mrs.
f.. NJ. Moore 81 PaHls Valley, who
Won the gold medal offered by the
Oklahoma Federation of Woman s
clubs for the best prose compost
ton pertaining to Oklahoma or 20
some subject related to Oklahoma.
Mrs. Moore who is a brilliant and tai
ented woman. is an old time friend
of Col. and Mrs Douglas and their
pleasure in her success is as keen as
her own.-Muskogee Phoenix.
Mesdames Fish and Pfeiffer were
most agreeably entertained while IN
Muskogee. and have brought home
many pleasant memories OF their
visit.
*kkA*
The gold medal offered by the Ok
lahoma Federation of Woman's clubs
for the best prose composition writ
ten by an Oklahoma CLUB woman was
given this year to Mrs. e. VI. Moore
of Pauls Valley, a member of the Al
ternate Saturday club. The compost
tion that won the medal IS prose
poem of unusual beauty and strength.
The author is modest little wom-
an of Chickasaw blood, cultured and
refined, a type of the highest Indian
citizenship. 1t is difficult to persuace
her that she has written a compost
tion that Is worthy to be placed
among the classics. The article which
won the medal is given here in part:
Lines Written on An Indians Face.
'Tis only an Indian face, but on 1t
is pictured the pitiful tragedy or
race: Like a ghost of yesterday II
looks out over the hurrying throng,
with a cynical smile for the sordid
realities of today. The keen inscrut-
able eyes seem piercing the veil
which covers the mysterious future,
the firm lips guarding with sacred
tenderness the story of a nations
past. | stop and ponder the sphynx.
like countenance. Who are you, old
Indian? Who was the artist that
limned your noble features. I see N
You a racial type, an epitome of the
whole race. In you / read the future
of the Indian as it might have been,
and his tragic past. Your proud head
is bent as though under a foreign
yoke, and | see the wild, unquench-
ed, old world pain of the conquered
in your eyes. You have lived long
and endured much, and have no more
illusions. Your face is not the por-
trait of one man or one generation,
but an epoch in the worlds history.
You are one Of natures aristocrats
They call you a savage, yet, centuries
before the foundation OF classic
Rome, when the Angles and Saxon
savages were roaming the forests Of
northern Europe, your own ancestors
in the land of the Fair God, were
writing on parchment art s'one the
history of your race-and but for the
hands of Christian fanatics
these hieroglyphlc writings would
class you among the most ancient of
civilized nations. The history of your
degeneration Is one of the worlds
mysteries which only he who holds
the keys of destiny can solve.
Prophet. with the calm and far
seeing eye, can you not fathom the
abyss of human problems and tell me
what is the Indians future Read
for me the dark characters traced by
the finger of destiny. Is there not
some knight within your vision with
a high unconquerable spirit standing
like some proud column alone amid
the fragments and ruins around II,