The Princeton union., 1922-07-27
The Village
Songstress
By CLARA DELAFlELp

Iue uaSSeS 10 the perception OF beauty.
When he first bought the "Spring-
town Gazette" he found the usual kind
of local newspaper. There was a page
of clippings.
There was the column of art criti-
c1sm, there were the reviews of new
books; and there was the poetry COL
umn.
One morning he found letter on
his desk signed Araminta Jones, en-
closing spring sonnet. Thurles read
it. 1t was punk. He hesitated.
Here, run this in the poetry col
umn!" he said to the assistant editor
foreman. "We've got to encourage
local talent, suppose"
Next morning, that being the day of
issue, the inhabitants of Springtown
learned that:
"Spring, blooming spring, is with us
once again,
Clothed in her vernal costume of
fair flowers.
My heart fills with alternate Joy and
pain
When I consider other, happier
hours,
In which 1 roamed in other maidens'
bowers
Heart free, yet dreaming of my des.
tined love,
Love, soul enthralling, deathless,
which devours
Like ravening wolf, or en-beaked
dove"
Thurles shuddered. He had not
realized how bad it was. He resolved
not to print any more of Miss Jones'
effusions.
That afternoon little, placid, yet
soulful-eyed woman drifted timidly
into the Office of the "Gazette."
"Good-day, Madam. What can I
do for you?" asked the proprietor.
II want to thank you for printing
that poem Of mine," said the visitor
timidly. my name is Araminta Jones.
You know, Mr.. Thurles, I've always
felt the divine fire within me, but pub
fishers are so conservative, and I've
never had chance to appear in print
before. And I've brought you little
ode on Beauty"
"Er-quite so, Miss JONES'" said
Thurles. :.
When she was gone he began to
read:
Beauty, divinity within my breast,
'Thou spark Of all Eternity's unrest,
"Struck from the anvil of our human
hopes,
"Gate which into Gods magic garden
opes."
There was a furious rending Of the
manuscript. Thurles' arm fluttered to-
ward the waste-basket.
But on the same day of the follow
ing week little Miss Jones was in the
office again. "a
"Oh, Mr.. Thurles, 1 didn't see my
ode on Beauty in your paper" she
said timidly.
Thurles looked into the eager face,
and an immense pity stirred within
him.
'T-er-well, I'll confess" he said.
1T was accidentally destroyed"-
saw the lips begin to quiver-"in a
fire in the composing room. I'm so
sorry"
"Oh, never mind" said Miss Jones
cheerfully. "I've brought you two
poems, Mr.. Thurles, one on Eternity
and one on Childhood"
Next week the Gazette contained
the following:
"Childhood, thou fairest opening of
the flower
OF human life, when cherubs hour by
Sing of the joys of life and happi-
ness
Nor dream of life's disquiet and dis
Thurles groaned. He could read no
| further. 1t was becoming a night
mare. Even the tradesmen used to
pass sly jokes to him about Miss Ara
minta.
Queer sort of turn she's took, Mr.
| Thurles," said Hicks, the grocer. 1T
amt as she had to do it, neither
seeing as she's inherited four thousand
year from her father. Gee, you
| never can tell what women will get up
! tor
Thurles was a practical young man,
and the Gazette was only just paying
it's way. He went back and read the
latest bundle of Miss Jones' poems
And while he was reading them Miss
Jones came in in her timid manner
Thurles looked at her. She was a
pretty little thing, If a trifle faded
/ Spinsterhood had not yet set it's ire
vocable seal upon her brow. And Miss
Jones had four thousand year.
Thurles rose. The irrevocable mo-
ment had come.
"Er-Miss JONES'" he began, "Tve
been wondering why we can't fix
things up together"
He was going to say ito publish
your poems in book form instead" but
to his surprise he found himself hold
ing something warm and clinging in
his arms
"Oh, l never dared to hope you
cared" Miss Jones said softly.
Thurles was practical young man.
He stood stock still, and visions
flashed through his brain like light
ming.
"And don't think I shall ever write
poetry any more now," said Miss Jones'
''The bi1l is only tuneful till it has
built itA nest, isn't it?' she added
shyly.
"Er-yes. darling" said Thurles.