Hobart Weekly Chief. (Hobart, Okla.), Vol. 3, No. 14, Ed. 1 Thursday, November 5, 1903 Page: 3 of 8
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the: girl
half w a y
at the
HOUSE
STORY OF T HE PLAINS
BY K . nor.. II. a r T II II K op
C t*riekttJ. UDl. by
T K !iTO V [If TUP. row p.IV
Atthtvu 6- Ctmtamt, New )', *
CHAPTER I.
The Brazen Tongues.
The band major was a poet. HU
bame is lost to history, but it deserve*
a place among the titles of the great.
Only in the soul of a poet, a great
man, could there have been conceived
that thought by which the music of
triumph should pass the little pinnacle
of human exultation, and reach the
lilgher plane of buman sympathy.
Forty black horses, keeping step;
forty trumpeters, keeping unison;
this procession, headed by a mere mu-
sician, who none the less was a poet,
a great man, crossed the field of Louis-
burg as it lay dotted with the heaps of
slain, and dotted also with the groups
of those who sought their slain;
crossed that field of woe. meeting only
hatred and despair, yet leaving be-
hind only tears and grief. Tears and
Brief, it is true, yet grief that knew
of sympathy, and tears that recked of
other tears.
For a long time the lines of Invasion
bad tightened about the old city of
Louisburg. and Louisburg grew weak-
er In the- coil. The wheat lay green
upon the fields and the odor of the
blossoms of the peach trees hung
heavy on the air; but there was none
who thought of fruitage or of harvest.
Out there in front, where the guns
were pulsing, there went on that grim-
mer harvest with which the souls of
all were intimately concerned. The
boys who threw up their hats to greet
the infantry were fewer than they had
been before the blossoming of the
peach. The war had gr.own less par-
ticular of its food. A boy could speed
a bullet, or could stop one. There
were yet the boys.
Of all the old-time families of this
ancient little city none held position
more secure or more willingly accord-
ed than the Fairfaxes and the Beau-
champs. There had always been a
suckle. Had Mary Ellens eyes not
been hid beneath the lids they might
have seen a face pale and sad as her
own. They sat silent for it was no
time for human speech. The hour
came for parting, and he rose. His
lips just lightly touched her cheek.
It seemed to him he heard a faint
• good-bye." He stepped slowly down
the long walk in the moonlight, and
bis hand was at his face. Turning at
the gate for the last wrench of separa-
tion. he gazed back at a drooping form
upon the gallery. Then Mrs. Beau-
champ came and took Ellen's head
upon her bosom, seeing that now she
was a woman, and that her sufferings
had begun.
CHAPTER II.
The Players of the Cam*.
•vnen the band major was twenty
miles away in front of I^ouisburg his
trumpets sounded always the advance.
The main lntrenchments erected in
the defences of Ijoulsburg lay at right
angles to the road along which came
the Northern advance, and upon the
side of the wood nearest to the town.
In the fields both the wheat and the
fio'vers were now trampled, and a
thousand industrious and complaining
bees buzzed protest at the losing of
their commerce. The defenses them
selves were but earthworks, though
skilfully laid out. Along their front,
well hidden by the forest growth, ran
a line of entangling abattls of stakes
and sharpened Interwoven boughs.
In the center of the line of defense
lay the reserves, the boys of Ixiuis-
burg flanked on eTther side by regi-
ments of veterans, the lean and black-
haired Georgians and Carolinians,
whose steadiness and unconcern gave
comfort to more than one bursting
boyish heart. The veterans had long
played the game of war. They had
long since said good-bye to their worn-
he r*e. deep, cheering, a roaring vrar
of menace made up of little sounds.
An officer sprang up to the top of the
breastworks and waved his sword,
shouting out something which no one
beard or cared to hear. The line in
the trenches, boys and veterans, re-
serves and remnants of the columns of
defense, rose and poured volley aTter
volley, as they could, into the thick
and concealing woods that lay before
them. None the less, there appeared
soon a long, dusty, faded line, trot-
ting. running, walking, falling, stumb-
ling. but coming on. It swept like
long serpent parallel to the works,
writhing, smitten but surviving. It
came on through the wood, writhing,
tearing at the cruel abattis laid to en-
trap it. It writhed, roared, but it
broke through. It swept over the rail
fences that lay between the lines and
the abattls. and still camo on! This
was not war, but Fate!
There came a cloud of smoke, hiding
the face of the intrencfiment. Then
the boys of LouiBburg saw bursting
through this suffocating curtain a few-
faces. many faces, long rows of faces,
some pale, some red. some laughing,
some horrified, some shouting, some
swearing-a long row of faces that
swept through the smoke, following a
line of steel—a line of steel that flick-
ered, waved and dipped.
Took Ellen's head upon her bosom.
Colonel Fairfax, the leader at the local
bar, perhaps the representative in the
legislature, or In some position of yet
higher trust. The Beauchamps had
always had men In the ranks of the
professions or in stations of respon-
sibility. They held large lands, and
in the almost feudal creed of the
times they gave large services Hi re-
turn.
It was considered a matter of course
that young Henry Fairfax, son of
Colonel Fairfax, should, after com-
pleting his studies at the ancient insti-
tution of William and Mary College,
stop Into his father's law office, even-
tually to be admitted to the bar and
to become his father'B partner; after
which he should marry Miss Ellen
Beauchamp, loveliest daughter of a
family noted for its beautiful women.
So much was this taken for granted,
and so fully did it meet the approval
of both families, that the tide of the
young people's plans ran on with little
to disturb its current. Young Fairfax
seemed so perfectly to represent the
traditions of his family, and his future
seemed to secure; and Mary Ellen her-
self. tall and slender, bound to be
stately and of noble grace, seemed so
eminently fit to be a Beauchamp
beauty and a Fairfax bride.
en. They had seen how small a thing
is life, how easily and swiftly to be
ended.
In front of the trenches were other
regiments, out ahead in the woods, un-
seen, BomewheiV' toward that place
whence came the steadiest jarring of
artillery and the loudest rattling of the
*sser arms. It was very hard to lie
and listen, to Imagine, to suspect, to
dread. For hours the game went on,
the reserves at the trenches hearing
now distinctly and now faintly the
tumult of the lines, now recedfng, now
coming on. *
These young men, who but lately
had said good-bye to the women of
their kin. began to learn what war
might mean. It had been heretofore
a distant, unmeasured, undreaded
thing, conquerable, not to be feared. It
seemed so sweet and fit to go forth,
even though it had been hard to say
good-bye.
Now there began to appear in the
woods before the trenches the figures
of men. at first scattered, then becom-
ing steadily more numerous. There
came men bearing other men whose
arms lopped loosely. Some men walked
with a hand gripped tightly to an arm;
others hobbled painfully. Two men
sometimes supported a third, whose
CHAPTER III.
The Victory.
The bandmaster marshaled his mu-
sic at the head of the column of oc-
cupation which was to march Into
Loulsburg. The game had been ad-
mirably played. The victory was com-
plete. There was no need tq occupy
the trenches, for those who lay in
them or near them would never rally
for another battle. Thefe was no
longer need for hurry. Before the
middle of the morning the line* would
start on the march of the few short
miles.
During the delay a young officer of
engineers, Captain Edward Franklin
by name, asked permission of his
colonel to advance along the line of
march until he came to the earth-
works, to which he wished to give
some examination, joining his regi-
ment as it passed beyond the fortifica-
tions on its march. The colonel gave
his consent, not altogether willingly.
"You may see more over there than
you want to see, young man,-' said
he.
Franklin went on. following as near-
ly as he could the line of the assault
o!' the previous day. a track all to bold-
ly marked by the horrid debris of the
fight. As he reached the first edge
of the wood, where the victorious col-
umn had made Its entrance. It seemed
to him that there could have been no
such thing as war. The air was soft
and sweet. Just cold enough to stir
the leaves upon the trees and set
them whispering intimately. All about
was the suggestion of calm and rest
and happiness. Surely it had been a
dream! There could have been no
battle here.
This that had been a dream was
changed Into a horrid nightmare as
the young officer advanced into the
wood. About him lay the awful evi-
dences. Coats, caps, weapons, bit of
gear, all marked and emphasized with
many, many shapeless, ghastly things.
Here they lay, these integers of the
line, huddled, jumbled. They had all
the contortions, all the frozen ultimate
agonies left for survivors to see and
remember, so that they should no
more go to war. Again, they lay so
peacefully calm that all the lesson
was acclaim for happy, painless war.
Some lay upon their backs where they
had turned, thrusting up a knee in the
last struggle. Some lay face down-
ward as the slaughtered fall. It was
all a hideous and cruel dream. Surely
It could be nothing Tiore. It could not
be reality. The birds gurgled and
twittered. The squirrels barked and
played. The sky was innocent. It
must be a dream.
(To be continued.)
VALUE OF FARM MACHINERY.
Has Added Immensely to the v/ealth
of the Nation.
Farm machinery may some time d<"
work for us that will be worth $1,000.-
Mim.iM"i a year, says World's Work.
Thi-oretieally it is already saxing us
nearly three-quarters of that sutu, for
as far back as 1899. if all the crops
to which machinery is adapted could
have been planted and gathered by
hand, they would have cost nearlv
$7rto ooo.eim more than If they hail
all been planted and gathered by ma-
chinery. It has not only added so
much to our wealth, but It has made
us the foremos^ exporting nation, and
it is changing the character of the
farmer by freeing him from monoton-
ous hand toil. More than that, it Is
fast i banging the immemorial eoneep-
tion ot agriculture and the pastoral
and Idyllic associations that have gath-
ered about It since the time of Abra-
ham. Wealth, industry, commerce,
the character of men and even their
sentiment are all affected by it
Yet so sudden have been these
changes that we have yet hardly
caught their meaning. The cradle
scythe is only a little more than a cen-
tury old. and the cast-iron plow was
first used even later than the cradle
scythe. In other words, a century ago
agricultural machinery was almost as
primitive as it was a thousand years
ago. Now we have steam plows, com-
bined harvesters and threshers and
auto-mowers. They have come into
use so recently that only a small part
of the population have ever seen them
at work. Yet they are changing our
life In all its wide reaches—from com
merce to poetry.
Put a Dollar in the Bank.
rainy day * a-numln'. boys, as sure as
you re alive.
When bee* can't put a slnale drop of
honey In the hive;
The busy ants won't dare to set a foot
outside the door.
They'll loaf around and make their
meals on what they've -leaned be-
fore,
I ain't no weather prophet, as they call
em, but you bet
I know the time's a-comln' when li s
likely to be wet,
And them as may prepare for It will
have themselves to thank
If, while the Wcather'M fair, tliey put a
dollar In the bunk.
For the young people themselves it hand, heavy and a-droop. would now
^ -■ and then j;9 er<?pt w|th difficulty,
the eyes staring with a ghastly, sheep-
ish gaze, the face in a look of horri-
fied surprise. This awful rabble, the
parings of the defeated line In front,
dropped back through the woods, drop-
ped back upon the young reserves, who
lay there in the line. Some of them
could go no farther, but fell there and
lay silent. Others passed back Into
the fields where droned the protesting
bees, or where here and there a wide
tree offered shelter Suddenly all the
summer !r was filled with anguish
and horror. Was this, then, the War?
And now there appeared yet other
figures among the trees, a straggling,
broken line, which fell back, halted!
stood and fired always calmly, coolly,
at some unseen thing in front'of them.
But this line resolved itself Into In-
dividuals. who came back to the edge
of the wood, methodically picking their
way through the abattis. climbing the
intervening fences, and finally clamb-
ering into the earthworks to take their
places for the final stand. They spoke
with grinning respect of that which
wag out there ahead, coming on. They
threw off their coats and tightened
their belts, making themselves com-
fortable for what time there yet re-
nialne.l.
At last there came • continued,,
may be doubted if there bad yet awak
ened the passion of genuine, personal
love. They met, but, under the strict
code of that land and time, they never
met alone.
For two years Colonel Fairfax had
been with his regiment, fighting for
what he considered the welfare of his
country and for the Institutions In
whose justice he had been taught to
believe. There remained at the old
Fairfax home in I^oulsberg only the
wife of Colonel Fairfax and the son
Henry, the latter chafing at a part
which seemed to him so obviously Ig-
noble. Spirited and proud, restive un-
der comparisons which he bad never
heard but always dreaded to hear,
Henry Fairfax begged his mother to
let him go. though still she said, "Not
yet."
But the lines of the enemy tightened
ever about Iioulshurg. Then came a
day—a fatal day—fraught with the tid-
ings of what seemed a double death.
The wife of Colonel Henry Fairfax
was grande dame that day, when she
burled her husband and sent away her
son. There were yet traditions to sup-
port.
Henry Fairfax said good bye to Mary
Ellen upon the gallery of the old home,
boncntli a solemn, white-faced moon,
arnlii the odors of the drooping honey- j
No Tine for Kindness.
Don't you think the modern woman
is in danger of getting so busy she
has no time to be kind?" asked a
sweet old lady the other day. "We
hear so much about making every
minute count and always having some
work or course of study for spare
hours and systematizing our activities
that there is no room left for way-
side kindnesses. Wo get so tremen-
dously absorbed in our own affairs, so
self-centered, so Intent on not missing
anything that is going on, that wo
pass by a thousand little gracious arts
that, if we had been living fifty years
bark. Instead of how, we should have
thought of. It Isn't only the lante.
the halt and the blind that need our
love. There are hundreds who nover
fall by the way or ask publicly for the
cup of cold water, who yet are perish-
ing for lack of it. I think the old-
fashioned woman had the advantage
over the so-called new woman In
quickness of sympathy and respons-
iveness"—New York Tribune.
A Technical Point.
"You say your road carried a million
passengers last year?"
"Yes, sir; and I can prove It."
"You can?"
"Yes, sir.''
"Well, now, let's get right down to
facts. Can you make two passengers
out of one man?"
"Of course not."
"No doubt in some cases you've car-
ried the same man fifteen or twenty
times."
"Unquestionably."
"Well, does that make fifteen or
twenty passengers of him?"
"No-o."
"In view of that, can you say that
you've carried a million "
But th<s railroad man retired an-
grily. He never did have any use for
a technically exact man
It's mighty nice to idosh around and cut
a lordly dash.
And make the people woud r at the way
you squander cash
It's fun to sow your dollars like there
wasn t any stint.
And sort of make the public think you
"wn a private mint.
But by and by the time will come vou
won t have such a chance.
And Jest as like as not there'll be some
patches on your pants;
Instead of drawln prises, why. you'll
only get a blank.
And you'll rearet you didn't put a dollar
in the bank.
There ain't no sea so ca m hut that at
tlmo* the utornis prevail,
There ain't no soil so good but that
•sometimes tile crop will fall;
And them same men who brag the most
"bout a "lead pipe cinch."
8lng different tunes when later on they
find they're In a pinch.
It aln t Rood sense to waste your cake
promiscuously, because
The day will come you'll want a crust
til put betwixt your Jaws.
And If you'd have your vest look plump
Instead of lean and lank,
Youd better not forget to put a dollar
in the bank.
—Boston Globe.
Is Melba A Scot?
Three or four years ago, when Melba
was singing in Dundee, Scotland, a
large contingent from Broughty Fer-
ry attended the concert. The next day
it appeared in the paper at the latter
place that Mme. Melba was a native
of their little town. Brot'y Ferry is a
suburb of Dundee, and the wealthy
Dundeo merchants have built their
palaces at Brot'y overlooking the Firth
Tay. At the next night's concert
Melba promptly announced that she
was sorry to disappoint the Brot'y
Ferrians in their belief that she was
a native of that town, but it was not
the case; she was a native of Mel-
bourne. But the truth Is this; Ac-
cording to the birth registers at the
Ferry "Nellie Mitchell was born June,
1851." Her father. David Mitchell,
was a gardener at one of tha great
places there, and he left the Ferry
when his children were quite yrtung
and settled In Melbourne, faking the
name of Melba trom that time.
Thought the Duke a Firm.
Just after the late Duke of Rich-
mond and Gordon received the latter
halt of his title—he was created Duke
of Gordon in January. 1876—he was
sent to this country as president of
the British commission to our Centen-
nial exposition. While in this country
he heard of a certain picture owned by
a country woman, in which ne thought
he might be interested, and so wrote
to her. using the official stationery of
the commission, and signing himself,
as a peer does, simply by the names
of his title "Richmond and Gordon."
Much to his surprise, and a good
deal to his disgust—Tor he had pre-
cise Ideas as to his dignity as a duke
—the letter which he received in an-
swer to his was address: "Messrs.
Richmond & Gordon," and began
"Gentlemen! "—New York Times.
The Right of Way.
It had been Impressed on Edward
and John by their mother that they
should always give precedence to wom-
en. at no matter what cost to them-
selves. Now Edward and John and
Margaret had been adjudged gv.ilty of
the kin# of naughtiness that in the
opinion of the presiding judge, per-
sonated by their mother, needed the
laying on of a slipper as the best pun-
ishment to fit the offense. She lined
them up in front of her and deftly re-
moved her little slipper.
"Edward," she said sternly, "come
here."
"You've forgotten Madge, mother."
whimpered Edward. "Ladies first, you
know."
As Usual.
"Has he any occupation?"
"Well, he has hail one.''
"What?"
"Trying to b^ 'a good fellow.' "
"Did he succeed?"
"As long as his money lasted, yes."
ti
"If it wasn't for Ackersly, our trav-
eling representative, I would bo bit-
tins around taking life easy now."
said the dlscontended looking man.
"What did Ackersly do?" asked his
companion, feeling called on to be in-
terlocutor.
The complainant breathed heavily
and then said:
"It was about two months ago that
he came rustling in from a short trip
through Illinois. Indiana and Ohio
and you could see in a minute he had
something on his chest, lie gathered
five of us fellows who he knew had
been salting away a little in the bank
and told lis he had a scheme to let us
all In on the ground floor of a good
thing.
"It seems that while he was spend-
ing several days down In a little In-
diana city where we were having
some trouble he met an old chum—
u lawyer—who was promoting an oil
well, or rather, trying to promote the
capital out of investors. He took Ack-
ersly over the property and gave him
a strong talk.
"As I understand It, almut ten or
flfleen years ago, when they struck
natural gas down there, some gas
driller stumbled onto an oil well while
drilling, but not caring for oil in the
excitement to get gas he plugged the
well by dumping a lot of stone in and
pulling in an lion plug—or something
like thai.
"But in the last few years oil's be-
gun to look up—Ackersly says—and
this friend of his had the great
couldn't lose. Ackersly said.
"We'd have to have money to lease
the land from the farmer and to pay
for the drilling and shooting;. Askers-
ly and his friend would each put up a
hundred and he wanted us to put In
fifty apiece. We organized at ones
and the work began the next week.
"Ackersly couldn't work at all. F!e
had to have dally reports oh the prep-
ress of the drilling and talked sand
strata, shale and trenton rock until
we all commenced picking; out our
colleges. The day that they dropped
the go-devil down on to the 200 quarts
of nltro at the bottom of the well Ack-
ersly and one of the boys from the
office went down there to be present
at the joyous event.
"They came back gloomy—the well
was a dry hole or 'duster.' But Ack-
ersly got us together and said a sec-
ond shot might do it; would cost only
125 apiece, as we had the lease rights.
So, like pluuglng deeper to get back
our loss, we sunk twenty-five more.
Nothing doing. We quit. Four weeks
ago my cousin Ben came up from In-
diana to see me. He lived in the oil
region; said his farm was a cinch oil
property, and was trying to raise
♦300 to do it. Would I come in on
the ground floor? I gave him
laugh and said I'd l>ought two brinks
from the doughnut school of romance
and was all in.
"Ben was up here again yesterday.
He told me he got an easy mark <who
was a retired farmer to put up the
coin—and the two are now cutting up
scheme of boring right down beside $3,000 every month from their well,
this, old well and shooting It. It | Think of It!"—Chicago Newj.
Was Prophet of Evil.
Prof. Rudolph Falb of Vienna is
dead. He had a remarkable career.
He earned an enviable reputation
in the scientific world as a meteorol-
ogist. He wrote on the subject with
care, learning and authority. In his
later years, hovever, he was largely
discredited among scientific men be-
cause he became possessed of the idea
that he could foretell tho occurrence
of earthquakes. Some of his guesses
hit the mark, which only added to the
suffering he caused by erroneous pre-
dictions.
In 1893 he predicted that the island
oi Zante, off the west coast of Greece,
was about to be shaken by a severe
earthquake. The prediction came
true, uml so did his prophecy of an
earthquake on the mainland of Greece
In 1894.
It was natural, therefore, that when
he said Athens would be terribly
shaken on the approaching May 5 the
people of that city should be thrown
into great consternation. Thousands
of them fled from the city, many tak
ing refuge on ships at the Piraeus.
Nobody slept in Athens the night
before the predicted earthquake, and
thousands spent the hours of darkness
In open places around the city. May
5 war, a beautiful day. and there wa*
nothing to mar it except the distress
and discomfort caused by tho earth-
quake prophet.
In the following year Falb predict-
ed an earthquake for a certain day in
Chile, and the people of Santiago were
thrown into great excitement. Every
railroad car that could be mustered
into service was busy for a day or two
carrying refugees away from the city.
There was no earthquake, but the
misery and loss infltcted by Falb's
prediction were considerable.
Very little has been heard of Falb
since that time. His seems to have
been a case of a scientific man gona
wrong. After the fever of earthquake
prophecy seized him he never added
anything to the work that had given
him a respectable standing.
Pathos of Dying Rose.
The loving sun has gone behind the hill;
The shadows die along the withered
grass;
My heart the highway dust begins to fill.
And how I dread the mlnuti'
pass!
i as they
ilylng, dead;
seen, like
My petals are all withered.
My youthful hopes 1 vc
dreams, depart.
And. one by one. my dear companions
fled.
And left me with a dried and empty
heart.
When first tlie sun-god kissed my blMh-
Ing Hps.
My new-born soul was drenched with
airy wine;
And when she touched me with her fin-
gers' tips
l.lfe, laughter, love and paradise were
mine I
But, ah! she never plucked me from my
st ♦tii ;
8iic passed, and I have watched for her
In vain.
I thought her breast would Ih> ray dla-
i?m.
And the beating of Inr heart my life's
ivfraln.
My i"-orn thoughts were heart of sum-
mer dreams;
They never grew to oaks to kiss the
breese:
They floated far away on dreamy
streams—
My loves were only butterflies and
bees.
The butterflies caressed and kissed and
flew
To tell some younger rose of what they
stole;
The bees sucked from my heart
youthful dew.
And every drop of nectar from
soul.
its
my
To-night the winds will blow my heart
away
In countless particles of scentless dust.
To-night the winds will blow away to-
day
In alleyways of yesterdays to rust.
Sun-flooded days and star-bespangled
nlghtx!
Old moon that's bathed the earth for
countless years!
Soft winds, sweet rains and all that life
delights.
Ye only know my passions—and my
tears.
—John Krncst McCann in New York
Herald.
A Kansas Musical Critic.
The editor of the Bosworth Star- i are as tender as a veal steak, and
Sentinel received a complimentary j as poetic as a song or a meadow lark
copy of a new song entitled. "When j on May morning. The melody is
First We Met," the other day. Think- j sound and all right, with no wind
ing it was up to him to say something galls or collar marks. The harmony
about it, he wrote: "As the editor of
thi.; paper does not know a demi-
semiquaver from a diapason, or a bass
clef from a bono tumor, he will not
be expected to give an extended no-
tice of the production. We can say,
however, that th - type used In print
Ing the song was clear and plain, and
tho paper seems to be of the best
seems to be in a healthy condition,
with no patent defects or noticeable
blemishes. The tonality is clear and
resonant and rests on harmonic rela-
tions and melodic elements. We will
sing the song to any subscriber of the
Star-Sentinel who will pay his sub-
scription three years in advance,
throwing into it all the tender pathoa
quality of rag. The design on the and unctuous emotion of our cabbage-
front page is artistic, and the words [ flavored soul."—Kansas City Star.
MEN ARE TO WEAR CURLS.
Old Oarber Asserts Fashion la on Eve
of Ravival.
Curled hair for men la coming in
again!
"I had two valets here yesterday,"
said the old baber, "teaching them the
mystery of curling a man's hair. They
wanted only the side wave, the most
beautiful of all curls. But that will be
followed by the long front curled love
lock that you see In the pictures of
the fashionable men of thirty years
ago. 1 went ten years without having j beared, curled man. such us the fathers
a man In my chair that wanted a curl. | of this generation were when young.
Six months ago out came. Siuca then j are coming In.'—New York I'rwaa.
I have averaged one a week. I know
It Is coming.
"Does the young barber know how
to set a curl? Not a bit of it. You
must learn the trade. You must work
over the wig on the block for months
before you can do justice to the beau-
ties of a right curl. We old fellows
learned it. Just the same as we learned
to shape a beard. A new generation
of barbers must come In. or the pres-
ent ones must begin, after all those
years, tv learn their trade.
"The square-jawed, smooth-shaven,
flat-haired man is g. iug out. The
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Reference the current page of this Newspaper.
Chambers, H. S. Hobart Weekly Chief. (Hobart, Okla.), Vol. 3, No. 14, Ed. 1 Thursday, November 5, 1903, newspaper, November 5, 1903; Hobart, Oklahoma. (https://gateway.okhistory.org/ark:/67531/metadc186387/m1/3/: accessed April 24, 2024), The Gateway to Oklahoma History, https://gateway.okhistory.org; crediting Oklahoma Historical Society.