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Show LOVED liY KIPLING. THE OPBAT POET'S PITY FOR A BONO OirtL. Bha Woata Nol Marry Mini, llowerar, and IU Wont Amj In fmbrac llttlar rate She Hat Jnt Iliad the Vtaal Soot dirt IImIIi. (Ran Francisco Letter) The Ssn Kranclscu dire girl whom Kipling openly owned to having loved; who bad, he said, 'a Urrek head and eyta that seemed to speak all good and beautiful things," died In this elty recently. re-cently. When Mr. Kipling a tender confession confes-sion wss made, woman, to the genius of the century's end, aeemed to have been something other than "a rag and h bone and a hank ot blr". but thst was ten years ago, on the occasion ot the word-wlitard'a pnsssge from the orient through San Francisco, when to him the world was younK, his fame unwon, when a halo hung about every 1 retty face and vamplrea were out ot light It la generally known that the credited stiff correspondent ot the Allshabad Pioneer did not, when htre (online hla visits lu Nob Hill nnd the ewepiper offlcee He went when all, r nearly all, bohemlan Inurtits, globe trotters, sailors, totdlrrs, reformers, and clots students of humanity go He went to the theaters music halls vaudevilles, the dens and dives of what Is called the under world. In one ot Ihi-te placea he made tho acquaintance of one billed on the boirds as Corlnno Whether It waa the Incongruity of the mention ot Mme. de Stntl'a masterpiece In such a place or the girl who had adopted the name, that nttra'ted the bespectacled scribe from llombay, Is not recorded; but, certain It Is, he was attracted, and to such an extent that not a day, nor a half-day, hardly, passed after their meeting without tho passage of some token of tenderness from him to her "If I looked from my window I was sure to meet hla eyes lu the street below, and whrn I went out, the flrtt to taluto me was this swarthy 'Joss.' as 1 used to call him; for he talked so much about Iluddhas, Idols, (brines, Shintoos and other things with strange long names that I concluded con-cluded he must be a heathen Joss." These are Corlnne's own words. And who was CorlnneT At the baptismal font she as given tho name ot Jeasle McFarland. Her home had been with the "children ot the heather and the wind," but her footstep llko those of many another, had atraod far, far from the straight and narrow paths which abound In the "North Countrle " There had been a husband, who left her (whether by death or desertion Is unknown, and It certainly concern! up not) In extreme youth and poverty. It waa the pathetic grief Imprinted upon her face, the mother-lave In her eyes, thst made her noticeably like the jiladonna In the Oreek church. At least, Ktptlng4old her so. After htr bab.dledtha-nuflr.r.l)tllc. lonely mother sat white and lllullnl'avasd,,l stilt clumber day after day, with folded fold-ed hands upon an aching heart, and wept and wept It would have beta so tweet to He dovn with the tiny waxen one out there In I.one mountain, whero they laid It but life and youth must assert Its'!!, and Jessie had been taught, back li ths Scottish kirk, that It waa wronx to kill one's self. She hid, too, beon taught to do work, of the sort done by women of her own kin and class, which rontlilcd, for the moit part, In tidying her own room, keeping her clothing In order and making herself clean and wholerorao and aweet Would she. In a country new, get leave to live by the performance perform-ance of such simple LatktT lime and much persistent effort gave the agonising agonis-ing enswer. She found that knowledge, commendable though It was, availed nothing In the great, aelflth, hurrying, bewildering world In which she found hcnolf alone, for no one wanted A little lidy to work Sometimes, when In desolation and dcpalr, people are rJmgA JESS1B M'FAHLANU. comforted by music Ily It the mind may, at least, be momentarily diverted. Tbe little, lone mother knew songs which ths Illghlsnders ting In their native heaths, and she sang from shser relief to tr '"" ou, lh,re ,n talt silent chamber, little dreaming she would be heard, but some one listened, and ones, sftsr she had finished her song, whsn psstlng out over the shadowy staircase Into the sun, a voice arrested her. "You sing!" said the voice, address- J Ing Itself to her. " "A little." "I hear you. I live in the bouts You want to earn moneyt" "I must asm money," was tbe answer. an-swer. "Oosts aiy boss; hs glvs you a Job," concluded the short-sllabled Italian, at be throat a r.t Inlo bar hand a rird which bore tin addrets C-f h I H txxa The Utile no -i followed the eawafl ftitttlons She rep m the song to H listeners of eeemliu- appreciation jH When ahe had finished i is hesd seeker H after nocturnal attracts .isald: H "Come here every nl M I furnish jH cottumea which you are to wear while H you sing. At the end of each week I hawaH will live you $15 ' laBi The little song-mother went, for she Uttf mutt live, and In that place, where iHS nightly men aitcmblcd to b what flVfl they called amused, Itudyard Kipling JSfflS fcund her clcid In her kilt, her barred WAS blouse, shoulder sash, buckles and MEA tntteled turban, alnglng ber llltls WvflK eong, "doing the fling." ni they say In MrrH haunts ot the half-world. And ths nt word-wltard. not content with tho SkS" fling," the fumes, the smiles, the &CM glsnces, the sounds and teenes, the IhIeI blare and glare that contribute to i'io VH male entertainment In that nnun ot dbmH the under world, found speedy m i is KaaB THM MKBTINO. H lo conclllato the little singer, and with H that conclllirfjn went such hackneyed IH phrases ns sis H "You ate far too nlrs a lastlo, Cor- B Inne, to do this sort ot thing. Can't H you better yourself, now, little glrlt" H No. trail) , the little girl couldn't, H Furthermore, she was grateful to get M that to do, for didn't it keep a root H over her bead, shoes on her feet and H food under her plaldT There vers so H many who had not nearly so much. H It Is a habit men of tho world bar, H belittling a work-woman's position. H It Is always: "You are too nice for H that. You uught to do better." H Who helps them to do better? Again, H (ho author of "Plain Tales from the H Hills" took his shallow soundings thus. H "I say, laatle. If some fellow like me, IH for Instance-wanted to lilt you out H of this hole, could you stick by him? H Would you bs true to hlra!" Sbo gavs H him no satisfactory reply. "After we jH got better acquainted," related Jcttla H remlnltcently. "and I told him about M Hoy, he called mo 'Little Mother,' and M when he wlthed to expreas sympathy H hs would say, 'Poor Little Mother.' M Itoy waa my baby. H "Whan. we were alone be usad, to ask --HH .matlOhe.fouldu'tUt myjinlr down -Z- Then he would tell mo of llfo'fn'Indla: H tbe strange men of the Jungles, the H csravans of lh t ' Ins, tho children, H the animals ths birds, the rites ot H marriage and death. The cow, he said. H waa considered there a sacred crcalurr" H nearly always Introduced in rcllglou. H ceremonies When n couple wish to H get married they present thcmselrts H before a priest, standing on either aids H of n queen of the stalls After sprlnk- H ling them with water and reciting n H ritual, tbe priest bids them mount the H cow. They then ride away, Imbued H with tho romfortab'e belief that they H havs done what they could to merit H marital fcilclt) He asked me to marry H him Indian way Now men do not H often apeak ot marriage to us, and H I was afraid he didn't mean It, but H ho said and did so many things. How H was I to know what ho meant and H whnt ho didn't meant At any rate, H as we had no cow, and there wssn't H any I'att Indian priest here, we didn't H get married. And then ho went away " H Then there came a lima when tho H kilted figure failed to confront A sea JH of approving fates, and so ten cared H for her sons that she omitted singing H It altogether. Finally the fogs crept H Into ber lungs, and a ghostly, gravo- H yard cough made ber presence unwol- H come to dive Impresarios In humbla fB lodgings she languished alone, un- H sought aud unrcmombered, until a H Scottish Samaritan In ths city, learn- H Ing her sad story, placed her in a prl- H vste hospital, kept by one ot ber own H sex, and there she died. And now sha H sleeps at Lone Mountain, beside ths H gravo of her little boy. H From "American Notes," Itudyard H Kipling's book A girl In a "dive," H blessed with a Oreek head and eyes H that aeem to speak nil that Is beat H and aweetett In tho world. Hut woo H Is mel She has no Ideas In this world H or ths next beyond the consumption H of beer (a commission on each bottle), H and proteats that sho sings ths songs H alloltod to her ntghtly without mors H than tho vaguest notion ot ' theli H meaning H nuan.NiA KBLLoaa holmes. ! |