NORTH SHORE BREEZE 
Both Sides 
of 
The Shield 
By Major 
ARCHIBALD W. BUTT, 
One of the Heroes of the 
Titanic and President 
Taft's Military Aid. 
Copyright, 1905, by J. B. Lippincott 
company. All rights reserved. 
SYNOPSIS 
Palmer, a Boston newspaper man, is 
Bent to.Georgia to report social and indus- 
trial conditions in a series of letters to his 
paper. Colgnel Turpin, a southerner, 
thinks Palmer is a lawyer and has come 
co foreclose the Turpin plantation’s mort- 
gage. 
Palmer undeceives him, and the colonel, 
thinking that Palmer is a kinsman, in- 
vites him to be his guest at the Pines. 
Palmer meets Ellen and Bud Turpin and 
is hospitably received. 
He becomes interested in Ellen and 
learns that the Turpin home is in grave 
peril through lack of funds. He wants to 
confess that he is not really a kinsman, 
but fails to do so. 
Squire Hawkins, an elderly man, is 
courting Ellen. A party is planned in 
honor of Palmer, who writes his impres- 
sions of the place far hie naner. 
awen wears an old brocade gown at the 
party, and Palmer falls in love with her. 
Bllen and her friends take him to the 
wishing stone. 
: [CONTINUED.] 
“We must have a dance in the hall 
while Mr. Palmer is here,’ I heard her 
faying to some of the girls who were 
standing near, at which they immedi- 
ately set up such a clatter and chatter 
as a hundred sparrows might be ex- 
pected to make upon the first warm 
day in spring. The following Friday 
was settled as the day, and all, boys 
and girls as well, agreed to come 
Thursday and help cook the supper 
for the party, and each agreed, too, to 
bring something. Margaret Robert- 
son said she would bring all the sugar 
needed for the cake, Bert Simmons 
promised three quarts of cream for the 
sillabub, and Jim Barrett said he 
would make up the rest that might be 
aeeded. Ruth Howard would donate 
Jour, and another offered chickens for 
the salad, and so on down the list. 
“Be sure to bring them picked, 
George Adams,’’ said Miss. Ellen, 
aughing, to the lad who had donated 
the chickens, “for if Sally Stovall is 
there you will be of no assistance, as 
we know from experience. And two 
sf you girls must come prepared to 
spend the night of the ball to help clear 
away the remnants the next day.” All 
volunteered, and Miss Ellen had a hard 
time to choose between them, so high- 
y was this honor prized. The rector, 
‘oming out and hearing what all the 
thatter was about, delivered a lecture 
upon the frivolity of youth and ended 
Dy saying: 
“And if no one has seen about the 
music I promise to furnish that as my 
thare. I will bring my old violin and 
dpe one of the band myself,’ which an- 
houncement was greeted with ap- 
plause, for I heard afterward that no 
one could keep such good time as Mr. 
Lamb, and the darky band always 
played better when he led it. 
That afternoon a number of older 
people in the county called, and Miss 
Ellen served tea on the shady side of 
the house under the porch. Later Bud 
ind I rode horseback. He took me to 
tee the camping ground of General 
Sherman, which Miss Ellen had point- 
> out to me the night of my arrival, 
ind from there we took a circuitous 
route home. He told me many of the 
lificulties of farming in the county. 
We passed a number of farmers, and 
from each I learned something and 
stored up in my mind many a quaint 
anecdote for my letters from these 
simple country folk. One time when 
Bud had ridden forward to consult 
some one about getting extra hands 1 
rode up to a stolid looking individual 
whom I saw sitting on a rail fence 
near by whittling a stick. His beard 
and hair were unkempt, and his whole 
attitude was one of supreme indiffer- 
ence to his surroundings. 
“Good morning,’’ I said. 
“Same to you,” he answered without 
looking up to see who had addressed 
him. t 
“How are your crops this year?” I 
asked. 
“Poor,” was his monosyllabic reply. 
“Good last year?” 
‘“Nup,” with maddening indifference. 
“T hope your crops will be better 
next year.” I ventured again. 
“Doubt it.” was all he would answer. 
The field back of him did not look en- 
touraging. Despairing finally of get- 
ting any information from him, I drew 
rein, preparing to join Bud, adding, 
however, before leaving: 
“Well, that’s too bad.” 
With sudden animation he stopped 
whittling for a moment to look up and 
remark: 
“-Tain’t as bad as you think, my 
friend. I don’t own this land.” 
I rode off, laughing at this quaint 
conception of the value of land. He 
had not intended to be either witty or 
humorous, but was sincere in trying to 
disabuse my mind of a false impres- 
sion I might have of the extent of his 
troubles. When Bud rode up he ex- 
plained to me that the man farmed 
only on shages and had he owned the 
land he would have been held respon- 
sible for the interest on the mortgage. 
Indeed, he said that to own certain of 
the land around that section was re- 
garded as a calamity. 
That ride with Bud gave me much 
material for a letter, and when I went 
to my room I wrote until after mid- 
night. I touched only on the general 
condition of the planters and petty 
farmers and made use of such apt com- 
ments as I had chanced to pick up 
away from the Pines. I read and re- 
read my letter to make sure it could 
not be traced to Oglethorpe or its im- 
mediate vicinity. I was satisfied that 
It would describe many of the older 
tounties in the state; but, looking back 
now, it seems to me that I was too 
general in my deductions and that the 
illustrations, while unique, did not give 
& proper conception either of the man- 
ners of the people or of the conditions 
of the country save in the exceptional 
ease. But I had been trained to look 
for the exception, I fear, which I think 
ls the main fault of all young people 
who have a pen put into their hands, 
who are prone to point out the ridicu- 
lous side of life instead of seeing the 
manhood and the strength which often 
underlie conditions, no matter how 
strange they may appear at first. 
But my work for that week was 
flone, and I arose the next morning 
with the feeling that I could do with 
my time as I wished without trying to 
remember incidents or conversations 
which might make interesting reading 
matter in Boston. I rode to the sta- 
fHion and mailed my letter, and on my 
return I found Miss Ellen engaged, as 
the said, in putting the house to rights, 
*For if we leave all until the last day, 
very little will be done,” she said, and 
so I spent the day lending a hand here 
pr lifting a piece of furniture there. 
Miss Ellen mended many an old lace 
turtain that day. while I would sit, 
pipe in mouth, watching her fingers 
move backward and forward and keep- 
Ing my eyes on her face when her own 
were fixed on the work in her lap. I 
was on the point several times of tell- 
ing her why I had come south, to con- 
fess that there was no kinship possibly 
with the Kentucky Palmers, but after 
several efforts, which really got no fur- 
ther than planning them, I would fore- 
go all determination to play a strictly 
honorable role, and then, too, I feared 
It might put Colonel Turpin in a false 
position as well us myself, or so ' 
chose then to think. That evening Miss 
Ellen played more beautifully than [I 
had ever heard her play before, and she 
sang some old time melodies for us too. 
Her voice was sweet, and she sang 
simply and without effort. Before bed- 
Hime we had gathered around the piano 
and sung glees, even the colonel remem- 
bering enough from his old Princeton 
ays to lend discord occasionally. It 
was an uneventful but happy day, and 
It swept me many leagues nearer to 
the goal to which I had been drifting 
unconsciously since the first minute I 
had seen Miss Ellen and looked into 
her honest brown eyes. 
pep 6 lie ae eS yt 
ee eed 
