davidaulloa/AmericanStories huggingface dataset:
New-York tribune., 1919-04-13

in Dublin were gathered at the wharf, as
1t were, to suggest in person that / and
my baggage come and live with them. /
had been warned that this would happen
in Paris; had not expected it in Dublin.
The memorable thing about this trip.
however, was really the succession Of
little stations we had stopped at to take
on Irish servant girls starting for Amer
lea. 1t had seemed as if the whole ma
ton were going; their families gathered
at the wayside stations in tens and
twenties to see them off; there was ter
ribe weeping and hosting up and down
Of cloth bundles, and one entire family
ran along nearly half mile beside the
train, which gives you an idea of the
rapidity of the transit in Ireland.
Then there was that ride up the Arne
at sunset, through the quiet fields of
Provence. l went third class in those
days, not having yet met Henry, and
during this long war I have gradually
learned to forgive that French peasant
man who, with his wife and five children,
shafed my compartment, and insisted
during the entire length of that en-
chanted ride in keeping not only the
window down tight, but the shade as
well, so that l saw nothing of Provence
or the sunset on the Mediterranean, after
having travelled across the Atlantic
Ocean to see it. His wife explained, with
radiant smile, that her husband could
not bear the sun in his eyes. I sulked,
the train rocked in the heat; all the
babies cried, and the woman and her
strange husband talked steadily in d
patois, winding up each sentence with:
"Oui; cest CONNIE ca" Where is this
family now? AS l say, have forgiven
them the war was not in vain.
New-York tribune., 1919-04-13
By E. N. Vallandigham

ROSPER1TY never deserts the
basin of the Chesapeake, but it
asserts its presence with peculiar
ly loud acclaim when spring comes
early. This year spring came early to the
'aho OF the Chesapeake and prosperity
woke with start from it's light slumber
0l mild winter throughout the whole
ehgth and breadth Of the land, from Elk
t'eck southwark to the Capes, from the
nsaa OF navigation on the Rappahannock
az hllly Fredericksburg to the head Of
navigation on the Pocomoke at Snow Hill
on the sandy Eastern Shore.
Spring and prosperity showed them
's'Ves IN the waters Of the Chesapeake
@aa as tributaries before they were
's0nsiy felt ashore. Prosperity in that
's'0n is really child of Neptune, or, at
eaS'' an amphiban with a penchant for
~ A'Aning salt waters. Nobody within
Instance Of those tidal waters can
'''r except from constitutional lazi.
~''' and this land Is one of the few
'''' On earth where may be realized
= 'a@y mans ideal Of earning a living
VIC leisure hours. Just enough fish
. ana shooting for amusement. lust
"oodcutting and gardening for
~.'a'ui exercise, viii give man Of
,'s'a's needs all the material essen-
! ~ hfe- Before the world war came
| 'ose values it was estimated bv
wing observers4 that q colored sano;,v
@ cabin and a garden plot on tho
" a tidal tributary Of the cbesa-
y. s'uid be comfortable according to
49, : Standards Of the race and time = the
80 of the house could earn in cash
s'a*rs between $50 and 800 a vear,
,,,s g q ten could supply the family
- 10r most VI the year by tending
New-York tribune., 1919-04-13
after some trouble, and she was much re-

after some trouble, and she was much re-
lieved.
"Was he killed on the other side?" I
asked
No, he had died of influenza at one of
the camps after six months service-her
only boy
Pop had a load of grain that had to
be got off to-day, so had to come on for
the boy. New York seems a big place"
she said, without interest.
WAS he sick long," I asked
"Only week The doctors kept wiring
me not to come on, that it was all right,
but | knew it wasn't He'd never been
off the farm before, and this was great
thing for him. He wrote every week
nice letters, telling us everything. Then
they stopped all at once
"Will you have far to go from the sta
tion?" I asked.
ooh, yes-twelve miles. Pop will be
waiting for me with the hay wagon. We
couldn't use the buggy, being as the
coffin is so long. He was big boy"
She Tipped the pages of VANITY
Fair"
-"This seems nice sort of magazine"
she said, and paused at picture of one
, Of our arlstocracy, in white fannels,
holding silver cup from tennis tourna-
ment, with his racket held gracefully like
a bayonet Beneath was the inscription:
Mr.. - enjoying a little rest from
his we'll known activities as head Of the
War Workers Welfare League. Mr..
was seen at the races last week
with his famous mare Gwendoin. said
to have been purchased for - thou
sand dolars.'
He looks healthy young man." said
the little old lady, shutting the magazine
New-York tribune., 1919-04-13

trout were going at two pounds for a
quarter and even less.
Before March had ended it's first week
every breakfast table for $50 miles up
and down the bay was provided with the
local luxury of fresh herring cooked
upon this interesting recipe, described
with gusto by native: The freshly
caught fish is cleansed and placed in
vessel of light brine over night Next
morning it is washed in fresh water
and fried until the bones are so crisp
that they crumble between the teeth.
Add to this as aids to digestion thin,
small, very hot corn cookies right off
the griddle, half dozen panned oysters,
sweet potatoes saute, eggs in such guam
titles as you wish, coffee, and perhaps
beaten biscuits, and there you are, fitted
out to withstand famine until the mid
day meal. "It certainly was wicked"
said resident Virginian, "that we used
to have our old colored cook come at
o'clock in the morning just to make sure
that we had hot beaten biscuits for
breakfast, but she did it as a matter of
course"
That kind Of cook, by the way, has
become scarce in the Chesapeake coun-
try, because the war has brought a sort
New-York tribune., 1919-04-13

varying with the customary rate Of
wages. Up-river it is worth $50 a month,
or perhaps bit more. Down-river last
year farm laborers were asking 800
month, but then wages ashore in the
lower Rappahannock, as on all the tidal
streams, are ruled by what an able
bodied man can earn as self-employing
fisherman, oysterman or "crabber." The
whole scheme smacks Of the past, not
merely of the days "befo' the wah," but
of Colonial days and of England, back to
the emergence of the farm laborer from,
serfdom.
There is at least $50 miles of steam
boat navigation or the tributaries of the
Chesapeake, and half as much again if
all the ins and outs and the cross-weav-
lngs to scores upon scores of wharves,
creeks and inlets be counted, while the
distance from Baltimore down the
Patapsco and in the bay to the mouths
of these tributaries is from 80 to $50
miles Beyond all this is the navigation
open to sailing vessels and light draft
power boats into innumerable smaller
tributaries, so that the intimate naviga-
ton, so to speak, between Baltimore and
the Chesapeake country almost rivals in
length the transatlantic voyage. AS
matter of fact, he that would take all
the steamboat voyages of the Chesapeake
country must have nearly a month at his
disposal.
What is most significant this spring
in the Chesapeake country is the unmis-
taxable revival of business under the
urge of an early opening" of the fish
cries and the necessary response from all
sorts of occupations afloat and ashore.
With the revival of business have gone
better conditions for the laborer than he
ever before knew in times of peace and
more hopeful relation of the races. with
the prospect that this delicate adjust
ment, while endangered by the increased
self-respect of the colored people and
their expectation of high pay, will be met
by the wisdom and moderation of whites
perhaps more accustomed to deal fairly
and sympathetically with the colorcd
man than employers anywhere else in
the United States.
New-York tribune., 1919-04-13
Bv Winifred Duncan Ward
Sketches BY the Author

"O ONE who reads the daily pa
pers with that slavish enthusiasm
peculiar, I suppose, to contribu-
tors it is at once sad and
interesting to see how the mind of a
nation turns in its tracks like the tide
Interest in great events ebbs while the
events themselves are still in the making
1t was inevitable, no doubt, that the
wave of chivalry and romance which has
Just lifted our careless nation so high
should dissolve beneath US, yet Henry
and | cannot now discuss the morning
paper without realizing that We are still
trailing clouds of glory behind us To
have to bend our minds back again to
murders, milk. the new subway and the
price Of theatre tickets is disappointing,
not to say humiliating. Are these really
the things that absorbed our minds be-
fore the war?
But there is one long thread of ro-
nance left us, in speculations as to how
the vast machinery Of war will be con-
yerted into a machinery of peace. Our
daily living has been raised pitch by all
this frantic inventing and adapting, so
that an airplane line connecting the
Seventh Avenue subway with the Lex
ington Avenue subway no longer seems
improbable, and a revolving sidewalk
seven stories up to convey shopping
ladies' up and down the length of Fifth
Avenue IS a reality which we wait for
patiently and confidently.
Only a few days ago the head of the
railroad administration bureau of opera
tons pointed out that the small branch
raroads-the feeders or plug" lines
New-York tribune., 1919-04-13

takes from thirty to thirty-six hours, so
busy is the traffic at twenty or thirty
little wharves and up half dozen tribu-
tarles. The Patuxent and the Rappahan-
mock widen at points we'll up stream to
two or three miles, and their tributaries
seem like wide-mouthed rivers. From
Baltimore to Fredericksburg and back
by the Rappahannock and the Chesa-
peake the voyage lasts from Tuesday
afternoon to Saturday morning, and
when 1t is finished the voyager feels as
If he had for the first time caught some
notion of rural life in twentieth century
Virginia, just as he returns from the
voyage between Washington and Balti-
more with livelier notion of George
Washington, not the pater patria, but
the Colonial magnate.
An up-river Virginian set forth the
relations of landowner and agricultural
laborer with simple, undetailed perspi-
caclty unobserved even by his broad dia-
iect. The system is in effect the Smoke
house. system of the cotton growing
Ie4A ooaIeo, DIS DeSC seen perhaps IN the
4azoo Delta of Mississippi, an adapta-
ton of the master and slave relation
suited to modern conditions. The land
owner who in the Rappahannock coun-
try may own and farm from 800 to
$500 acres or more has upon his place
as many tenant houses" as are needful.
distributed at convenient distances. To
each is attached garden plot, and each
is occupied by negro family, or indeed,
sometimes a white family, the laborers
OF the farm. Each family has yearly
from the landowner three barrels of
flour, twenty bushels of cornmeal and
three hundred pounds of what the Vir-
ginian called "po'k." Sometimes, espe-
cially down-river, salted fish is given in
lieu of pork. The tenant has the product
of his own garden and may keep pig
His wife may raise a flock of chickens
on shares with the owner. The ten
ant has also the privilege of getting
firewood from the forest that covers part
of every considerable plantation aid the
use Of team to haul his wood.
In addition to these goods and privi~
leges. the tenant has cash payment
New-York tribune., 1919-04-13

maddening way uninteresting people
have Of doing interesting things.
The old lady, who was evidently from
the country, and was dressed in black
mohair of a distinctly early Victorian
cut, was reading copy of "Vanity Fair"
the very latest edition.
| watched through half-closed lids as
she paused over Gertrude Hoffman, as
Salome; the Submarine Slide, as done by
our young debutantes; the latest thing In
Cubst sculpture. Where would she stop
in this impartial survey? I watched
through half-closed lids. She stopped
short, far toward the back, at an adver-
tisement of Closefit Knit union suits,
demonstrated by three fine looking young
men clad in said union suits and looking,
as they lotered about a centre table, like
three well bred seals about to do dive.
Tears forced themselves through the
lowered lids with which the little woman
gazed at this astounding picture. She
folded the magazine back on itself with
decisive gesture that signfied that at
last she had found a picture she liked.
She got out her handkerchief with lit
tie birdlike rustling in her reticule, pa
tiently wiped her eyes, and courteously
refrained from even glancing up from
the three young men.
"When did he die?' I asked, resignng
myself to my fate.
Last night at H." she answered
quietly. Owe got him with me- in the
baggage car, but Ne have to change at
- Junction. Do you think III have
trouble getting him, him-it-changed
I hunted all UP and down for the right
car but no one seems to know which one
he's in
We found this out from the conductor
New-York tribune., 1919-04-13
gently. Queer, amt it, how some gets
left and some gets taken?"
Yes said l, "it's very queer"

You are no doubt wondering what all
this has to do with the fat little couple
whom | have tried to portray in the ac-
companying sketches They sat in front
of Henry and me the other day when we
were so unfortunate as to have to ride
from New York to Philadelphia, and
everything happened precisely as | have
pictured it, and induced in me the above
soliliquy-can't spell it--on American
train service.
Henry said, Since it is what it is, why
reflect? and went to sleep. But a train
ride is an exciting event to me; how can
one sleep with the world dashing bv like
magic carpet?
Besides, think that American trains
are the most marvellous in the world,
and when | sit in Pennsylvania
Pullman (Which I very seldom do) and
think about all the other trains | have
been in | realize too late that if all the
paclfists and doubters who have been
worrying us so much during the war
could only have been shipped over and
sent around Europe on peace commits
sions via European day coaches they
would all have come back to US ardent
Americans.
We once took train in Ireland. 1t
started from a mountain town called
Glengariff, and made its tortuous way,
with great grunts and lurches, on a track
narrower than a one column newspaper
cut, and it arrived, at the end, at Dublin
and stopped there with desperate pant
Small boys gathered to see it come in,
and the ladies who keep boarding houses
New-York tribune., 1919-04-13
By E. P. Schumann

r NEVER could endure Sammy. He was
not only fat but he. had fat purse,
and always had an idea that when he
took out a dollar bill with his fat,
moist hands, it would be fntter than any
other dollar bill. He was tolerated by tho
other girls because he took them out driv-
ing. The sleek, well.fed pony resembled
his master, In that he, too, possessed some
superfuous avoirdupois And while they ate
the elaborate sundacs which Sammy bought
them, the girls fixed Interested be
lieying eyes upon him as he talked Of ad-
New-York tribune., 1919-04-13

This opens up pleasing fields of specu-
latlon. Will not passengers also enjoy
these privileges in time? How pleasant
when one wishes to run up to Bronxville
over Sunday not to have to scramble
down to the Grand Central and just miss
the train; instead, truck, filled with
other kindred spirits, bound for Bronx
Vile and run by The National League
for Woman's Service, cooperating with
the Government Transportation Bureau
and fitted out in brand new uniforms at
$3.50 per, will convey you and your bag
gage straight from your door to the door
of the Hotel Gramatan.
Then we will speak of the good old
days of the day coach and the suburban
train will be a memory and Immediately
will be clothed in romance, and articles,
hope by me, will be written descriptive of
the quaint customs connected with the
day coaches of 1919. Why not write it
now? she said quietly, whiting the
well-known lead pencil. Why must the
poor victims who have to ride about in
day coaches wait till the day coach is
abolished to find out that even there was
humor and romance? I never did hold
with this dead past stuff. Now-now,
in the living present.
For instance, much has been written
about the psychology of the bootblack,
the office boy and the newspaper child;
why is literature silent concerning the
New-York tribune., 1919-04-13

"She always said she wouldn't" he mur-
INJURED
"Wouldn't what" some one asked in a
sympathetic tone.
Then he told us.
"But'-one of the boys objected "You
didn't even speak to her when she came to
lay the cornerstone of the new Y. NJ. C. A.
building. You said you didn't want to meet
her"
THAT was because of the quarrel" said
Sammy, and told us about it.
at was long time ago-but can't for
get. 1t was before we came here"
New-York tribune., 1919-04-13
The Most UnkindeSt Cut

ventures with prominent New York d6bu-
tantes.
THAT before we came to this one
horse town." he would say.
Sammy twenty then, and had lived
in the despised town for seven years 1t
might have occurred to his listeners that
boys of thirteen seldom lead cotillons
Perhaps they thought he referred to dane
ing school.
On the day of Helen Goud's marriage
Sammy came into the postofce and regis
tered gloom. His slghs were so heavy that
they huttcred the newspaper in his hand.
New-York tribune., 1919-04-13

had become, as compared with the motor
truck, slow and inefficient for freight
gathering and distribution. He advo-
Gated the abandonment Of a large part
of these feeder lines and the substitution
of motor truck service by the railroads
themselves.
New-York tribune., 1919-04-13

M ROSPERITY never deserts the
basin of the Chesapeake, but it
asserts its presence with peculiar
The Beaver herald. [volume] (Beaver, O.T. [Okla.]) 1895-1923, 1919-02-06
RUTH BELMORE ENDICOTT

was. when the train came along Caro-.
lyn May. after seeing Prince put into
the baggage car, climbed aboard with
the help Of brakeman.
"Of course. II he howls awfully," she
told the baggageman, who gnve her q
check without question, II shall have
to go In that car and sit with him."
There were not many people In the
cnr. They steamed away from Sun
rise Cove and Carolyn May dabbled
her eyes with her handkerchief and
told herself to be brave.
The stations were long way apart
and the conductor did not come
through for some time. When he did
open the door and come into the car
Carolyn May started up with a glad
cry. It was the very conductor who
had been SO kind to her on the trip up
from New York.
The railroad man knew her at once
and shook hands most heartily with
her.
"where are you going. Carolyn
May?" ne asked.
"All the way with you, sir" she re-
piled.
ITO New York;
Eyes, sir. I'm going home again"
''Then I'll see you later" ne said.
without asking for her ticket.
The conductor remembered the little
girl very well, although ne did not
remember all the details Of her story.
He was very kind to her and brought
her satisfying news about Prince In
the baggage car. The brakeman was
nice, too. and brought her water to
drink In paper cup.
At last the long stretches OF streets
at right angles with the tracks ap.
peared--asphalt streets lined with tall
apartment houses. This could be moth.
Ing but New York city. Her papa had
told her long ago that there was nc
other city like 1t In the world.
She knew One Hundred and Tw.n
| ty-flfth street and Its elevated station
That was not where she had board ed
the train going north. when Mr.. Price
had placed her In the conductors care
but 1t was nearer her old home-that
she knew. So she told the brakeman
she wanted to get out there and ht
arranged to have Prince released.
The little girl alighted and got hel
dog without misadventure. She wa,
down on the street level before thu
train continued on its journey down
town.
At the Grand Central terminal thu
conductor was met with Telegram
sent from Sunrise Cove by a certain
frantic hardware dealer and that tele
gram told him something about Caro-
lyn May Of which he had not though
to ask.
The Beaver herald. [volume] (Beaver, O.T. [Okla.]) 1895-1923, 1919-02-06

eyes only for each other-thoughts
only for each other.
Even child could see something of
this. The absorption of the two made
Aunty Roses remarks very impressive
to Carolyn May.
A week of this followed-a week in
which the trouble In Carolyn Mays
heart and brain seethed until II be-
came unbearable. She was convinced
that there would soon be no room for
her in the big house. She watched
Aunty Rose pack her own trunk, and
the old lady looked very glum. indeed,
She heard whispers Of an immediate
marriage, here In the house. with Mr..
briggs as the officiating clergyman.
Carolyn May studied things out for
herself. Being a child, her conclu-
sions were not always wise ones.
She felt that she might be STUN
bling block to the complete happiness
Of Uncle Joe and Amanda Parlow.
They might have TO set aside their own
desires because of her. She felt vague
ly that this must not be.
II can go home." she repeated over
and over to herself.
"HCme" was still In the New York
city apartment house where she had
lived 30 happily before that day when
her father and mother had gone aboard
the ill-fated Dunraven.
Their complete loss out of the little
girls life had never become fixed In
her mind. II had never seemed a surety
mot even after her talks with the
sailor, Benjamin Hardy.
Friday afternoon the little girl went
to the churchyard and made neat the
three little graves and the one long
one on the plot which belonged to
Aunty Rose Kennedy. She almost
burst into tears that evening. too,
when she kissed Aunty Rose good
night at bedtime. Uncle Joe was down
Mt the Parlows'. He and Mr.. Parlow
actually smoked their pipes together
In harmony on the cottage porch.
Aunty Rose was usually an early
riser; but the first person up at The
Corners on that Saturday morning was
Carolyn May. She was dressed full
hour before the household was usually
astir.
She came downstairs very softly,
carrying the heavy bag she had
brought with her the day she had first
The Beaver herald. [volume] (Beaver, O.T. [Okla.]) 1895-1923, 1919-02-06
CHAPTER XIX.
The Home Of Carolyn May.

It was some distance from the rail-
road station to the block on which
Carolyn May Cameron had lived all
her life until she had gone to stay
with Uncle Joe Stagg. The child knew
she could not take the car. for the con-
ductor would not let Prince ride.
She started with the dog on his
leash, for he was not muzzled. The
bag became heavy very soon. but she
staggered along with II uncomplain-
ingly. Her disheveled appearance.
with the bag and the dog. gave people
who noticed her the impression that
Carolyn May had been away, perhaps.
for a "fresh-air" vacation. and was
now coming home. brown and weary.
to her expectant family.
But Carolyn May knew that she was
coming home to an empty apartment
TO rooms that echoed with her moth
er's voice and In which fingered only
memories Of her fathers CHEEKY spirit.
Yet II was the only home. she felt
that was left for her.
She could not blame Uncle Joe and
Miss Amanda for forgetting her.
Aunty Rose had been quite disturbed.
too, since the forest fire. She had
given the little girl no hint that pro-
vision would be made for her future.
Wearily. Carolyn May Travelled
through the Harlem streets, shifting
the bag from hand to hand. Prince
pacing sedately by her side.
"We're getting near home now. Prin-
cey," she told him again and again.
Thus she tried to keep her heart up
She came to the corner near which shs
had lived SO long and Prince suddenly
sniffed Mt the screened door Of shop.
'Of course, poor fellow That's the
butchers" Carolyn May said.
She bought penny afternoon pa
per on news stand and then wen,
into the shop and got nickels worth
of bones and scraps for the dog. The
clerk did not know her, for he wes
new man.
cro BE coNrINUED)