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(Prepared by the Natlonal Ceographle
Soclety, Washington, D, C.)
ATALONIA, Spain’s northeast
ern province, is forever threat
ening revolution; but in re
cent centuries, at least, the
revolutions have never quite resulted
in independence,
The geography of Spain s better
known in terms of its cities than its
sections, Catalonia ean be placed
readily by calling it “the province of
which Barcelona is the head eity.”
Politically it can be located by calling
it Spanish Ireland, Still Catalonia
might resent this label as much as
ghe chafes at Madrid rule, because
her history of independence running
back to the Ninth century at least Is
quite ancient enough to warrant Ire
land being called Instead “the English
Catalonia.” To make Ireland a proper
parallel it would be necessary to move
from England across the Irish sea
most of England’s factories and mines
and most of her industrious workmen.
There would be left in England (now
playing the role of Spain) the govern
ing classes and the military.
Catalonia is the workshop of Spain,
It claims to pay nearly 80 per cent of
the nation's tax bill. The annual in
come produced by this single prov
ince is reported to be two-thirds that
of the entire nation, Although Cata
lonia covers only one-sixteenth of the
area of Spain it supports one-tenth of
the population, 4
There Is an old Spanish proverb, “A
Catalan can turn stone into bread.” A
Catalan is proud of that proverh,
Work is raised to high dignity In
Catalonia, The Catalan doés - not
envy Seville and other Spanish cities
thelr reputations with tourists as
quaint spots where the Middle agoes
linger unashamed. He lives In the
present, He is proud of Barcelona's
rows of workingmen's houses and
smokestacks, Modern machinery can
be found on Barcelona's docks, At
the Catalin mines the latest advances
in mining engineering are in evidence,
The Ebro, which drains the whole
south flank of the Pyrenees, is dwin
dling to a creek because of the rapid
increase of irrigation, It Is the Cata
lan's close link with the progressive
world that has made Barcelona
Spain's glass of fashion and the sce
ond city of the nation,
They Have Thelr Own Language.
Castillan Spanish is official Span
fsh, It is standard, like Parisian
French, But once away from Madrid
one hears all sorts of varlations of
Castillan, Go Into Catalonia and you
will hear another language entirely.
The Catalans have spent much time
and effort conserving thelr own lan
guage. Newspapers are printed In
Catalan, While it 1s a Romance lan
guage, the tourist equipped with both
French and Spanish might as well
stop up his ears when he crosses the
border, He will be deaf to Catalan.
If the traveler comes from the
North he will run into the Catalan
language before he crosses the bor
der. For many centuries before Spain
and France became well-knit states,
Catalonia was a saddle over the Med
iterranean end of the Pyrenees moun
taing, On the French side the Cata
lans have not clung to their heritage
with the passion of their Spanish
brethren, Most of them, like Marshal
Joftre, himself a Catalan, are deeply
loyal to France, But In Roussillon,
in French Catalonla, one may hear In
n short walk through the narrow
streets, Spanish, French with a Span
ish accent, French with a Catalan ae
cent, Spanish with a Catalan accent,
Spanish with a French accent, Catalan
with a French accent and Catalan
with a Spanish accent,
Catalonia has a flag, too, It Is a
yellow banner with four dlagonal red
stripes. There Is a fine story to the
design, A dying. Catalan hero drew
his bloody IT across his yellow
scarf and gave it to his countrymen
for a standard. While the bafner
does not appear often In publle, it is
The Rambla, Barcelona,
introduced in coat lapels, automobile
radiator caps and insignia for athletie
teams, |
So normal are Its occasional revo
lutions, uprisings and riots that Bar
celona has two kinds of police, One
kind, the ‘“urbanes,” attract immedi
ate attention by their.red coats and
walking sticks. They are charged only
with the regulation of trafiic and
with directing strangers about their
beautiful city. .
The other kind, the *“carabineros,”
usually are mounted, go armed, stand
at police crossings and other strategic
points; and theirs Is the duty of put
ting down any incipient uprising. Sel
dom do these attain the importance
of a revolution.
The Fortress and Rambla.
Barcelona's grlm fortress on a
rocky hill at its harbor entrance
frowns upon the stranger; but its
broad, colorful, lively streets welcome
him most graciously. It is a city of
pictures as it was when Washington
Irving described it. The years have
not robbed it of its charms, but they
have brought factories and nolsy
traflic,
The more fashionable streets have
a tree-lined promenade for pedes
trians in the center and on the out
side of the trees are the highways.
Here the struggle of the old and the
new is epitomized in the automobile,
the borse-drawn carriage, the “mule
bus,” which is just wiat its name im
plies, and the donkey carts with the
exceptionally small animals of Span
ish breed,
Woman frequent the streets as they
do nowhere else in Spain; and on the
Rambla, Bercelona’s Fifth avenue,
stroll ladies with faces half-hidden
by mantillas, others in smart walking
suits and Parisian hats, and still oth
ers, native peasants, with picturesque
velvet garb and their long baggy caps.
Even amid the sights and scenes of
a street one’s attention ultimately is
attracted by a house of the so-called
Catalonian style which, at first, may
look like a distortion of a mirror of
many curves, A longer inspection of
many a fine Barcelona home discloses
that the curved and crooked lines,
and bevel eftect at each window tier,
are purposely designed, and admira
tion is elicited by the delft tiles in
variegated colors which appear be
low the roofing,
Until 1492 Barcelona was the New
York of the Mediterranean, Its posk
tion in the northeastern coast of
Spain, actually at about the same !ati
tude as New York city, relatively is to
the Mediterranean world what the
Western city is to Atlantic trade
routes. Columbus' voyage was con
sidered a bit of impertinence on the
part of the Catalonlan government to
upset the balance of trade in favor of
cities In western and southern Spain,
Soon a 1 movement swept the Catalan
provinees, of which Barcelona is the
center, for annexation to France. In
1640 Catalonia did rebel against Philip
IV, and gave Itself over to French
protection; but its old allegiance was
renewed In 10562, and cemented by the
peace of Ryswick before the close of
the Seventeenth century, In four cen
turies this resentment had amelilo
rated enough to permit the placing of
n statue of Christopher Columbus In
the Rambla,
Despite Its commercial subsidence
when the Atlantie replaced the Med
{terranean as the major water route
of civilization, Barcelona flourished.
A year after the late war between
George Dewey and Spain, as O, Henry
put it, Barcelona pald more than a
tenth of the kingdom's entire revenue
from industrial taxation,
Despite its disorders and its mod.
ernlsm, Barcelona retalns many relles
of those mellow times when Cervantes
made it the setting for Don Quixote's
later adventures. There still are
church possessions, lottery ticket sell.
ers, policemen with red coats and hel.
mets, flower stalls and caged-birg
vendors,
HERALD, FOLKSTON, GEORGIA.
THE
HATED
WOMAN
(@ by*D. 3. Walsh.y
LLEN CASS closed the door be
hind her and ran out to where
her husband was doing some
last tinkering cn the newly ac
quired second-hand flivver. As she
appeared he drew his head from un
der the hood with a sigh of satisfac
tion,
“It will get you there now, 1 guess,”
he said. “But drive carefully, dear.
No speeding.” s
“Speeding! On these roads!™ Ellen
laughed as she jumped in. “All right.
Here I go. Den’t forget to pop the
potatoes Into the oven so they'll be
baked by the time I get back.”
It was the first time since her mar
riage that Ellen had gone to town
alone. But Dan had some important
things to see to and could not ac
company her. Although it was a new
experience to drive unaided, she loved
new experiences. Her heart was light
as she bounced aleng, her cheeks
glowing, her blue eyes bright with the
exhilaration lent by the wind, motion
and excitement,
The sun was shining. A day of
days full of tang and charm. Her
pulses raised as the vigorous little
engine throbbed its way onward.
A turn by the waterfall and she
came upon a woman who was taking
some papers from the battered mail
box by the roadside. The weman
lifted her head, her eyes met Ellen's,
she half smiled in recognition, but
Ellen fled without a sign.
Speak to Amy Lester! Never! Why,
she hated Amy with the one evil
spark in her young heart. For Amy
had been Dan’s first love. He had
told Ellen about it—how near he had
come to marrying Amy, just so near
as Amy would let him, that is. She
had refused him with that scornful
laugh of hers; that sidewise glance of
her beautiful dark eyes. The idea
of any normal woman refusing Dan!
Though that was not so bitter as the
thought that Amy had first place in
his heart. No, she could never for
give Amy that, never! What girl
could who feels she has taken second
place? Not that Dan now cared for
Amy. He was all wrapped up in his
wife, Ellen knew. But it was left for
Ellen to show &y how much she had
then lightly rded his love, she
must see now that it had been good
enough for a superior woman. And
Ellen felt she was superior in looks
and intellect and all that makes a de
sirable woman.
Still, even the sight of the hated
woman could not speil Ellen's good
time for her. She enjoyed her drive,
enjoyed her town with its shops, peo
ple and general attractions. She
popped into the candy kitchen for a
taste of soda. She bought a new mag
azine for Dan and tock great pains
with- her househeld list, choosing cof
fee and sugar as if they were silk
and satin. She went to the bank for
Dan, she got a wrench at the hard
ware store and then was ready to go
home,
The filvver had grown cold. It
shivered and rebelled as she applied
the starter button. Then it gave In
and away they went on their heme
journey.
A few miles out of town she had a
blowout. This meant changing a tire,
and she had never changed a tire be
fore although she knew how. By the
time she was on her way again she
noticed that the weather had changed.
The sky was gray, right down to the
tops of the hills the wind was beat
ing Ellen's cheeks, trying to run away
with her hat and scarf,
“We're going heme no more to
roam.” Ellen always sang that on the
return journey. She sang it now, but
somehow It failed of its effect. DPer
haps it was because she was alone,
And now suddenly she felt a cold
caress on her chin. She looked up.
Snowflakes! A milllon of them up
there swarming - like gnats. Snow
flakes on her brown coat, gumming
the windshield, covering the radiator,
It was difficult to drive, for even after
Helen had turned on the headlights
she found that they penetrated but
feebly Into the fast-thickening gloom,
Suppose she got lost! It was pos
sible, especlally when she came to
the forks of the road. There was no
sign post here; if there had been she
could not have read it,
She began to drive slowly and ecau
tiously, fearful of getting off the
track, which the snowflakes fast ob
literated. She felt queer and miser
able. Then suddenly the car Jjolted
terribly, bumped loto something and
stopped.
Ellen gave a sharp ilttle ery. The
cry was torn from her by that swift
terror of concussion, Then she re
galned calm,
“What a fool I am!™ she thought.
“There's nobody to hear me*™
She got out of the car and tried
to make an examination of the dam
age done. She could not see a thing,
but she felt here and there—at the
headlights, the fenders, the radiater.
All safe. The bumper had saved her.
She had struck something hard, but |
the geod old bumper had not given
way. The obstacle, however, had gone
down in the shock of impact. A small
tree—or post. She touched something
with her foot, heard a rattle and
picked up a tin box—a mail bex.
And now she knew where she was,
This was Amy Lester’s mail box that
she had knocked down. It meant that
she was not out of the road—at least
not far. She hesitated, inclined to go
on, yet feeling she ought to do some
thing about the mail bex. She called
as loudly as she could through the
snow, “Mrs. Lester! Mrs, Lester!” A
voice answered. “Hello! “What's the
matter?”
“l ran into your mail box and
knocked it down,” Ellen shouted.
“Wait! I'm coming.”
Through the opaque veil of the
snow a shadew appeared—Amy Les
ter.
“What happened?”’ she asked. El
len told her. “Oh, it’s you, Mrs, Cass!
I remember seeing you go by. Come
into the house and stay until it stops
snowing. It’s only a squall., Can’t last
much longer. If you go you may run
into something more than a mail bex.
Here! Give me your hand. Now come
along. Look out for that step. Here
we are.”
She opened the door and Ellen
found herself in a warm, pleasant
room with flowers, cclor and the glow
of a golden lamp.
“Take off your things and sit down.
I'l make a cup of tea,” Amy said. She
was a spirited, dark woman with
flashing white teeth.
“Don’t bother,” Ellen murmured. It
was nice to be in out of the storm,
to stop fighting the white cebwebs. In
a few moments she had a cup of tea
in one hand and a cake in the other,
just as Amy had. They sipped, nib
bled, looked at each other and chat
ted sociably.
“Don’t bother about the mail box,”
Amy said. “Tom will see to that, I
am glad you struck that instead of
the big ash the ether side of the road.
Well, at least we are acquainted—at
last. And I'm going to like you. And
you're going to like me. No reason
why we shouldn’'t be friends. I'm
married and you're married and we've
both got the best men in the world.”
She laughed. “Do you know, Dan
Cass didn't care a rap for me? He is
four years ycunger than I am. It was
his mother who wanted him to marry
me. But I knew better, Land, yes,
Dan and I would never have got
along—oh, here’s Tom!”
A big handsome young fellow came
in at the back door. There was an
interval during which introductions
were made and a few pleasant things
said.
“Say,” Tom laughed, “storm’s over,
You girls noticed it?”
They hadn’t, but it was true. El
len sprang up, her face beaming.
“I've got to scud home, But before
I go I want you folks to promise to
come over tomorrow night to supper,
Even if you are the best cook in the
world, Mrs. Lester, I've simply got to
show you how geod I can fry
chicken.”
They laughed as they gladly ac
cepted the invitation,
Over the snowy road facing a sud
denly golden sunset Eleln made her
way. Her heart was light, The hated
woman—why, there wasn't any hated
woman any more. There was just
Amy Lester, her friend,
Saving Pine Trees
The pine forests of the future will
not perish in infancy if the recent re
search efforts of J. Stewart Wiant
of the New York State College of Ag
riculture are put to practical use,
Hitherto there has always been a
heavy mortality in pine plants started
from seed In forest nurseries and later
set in the hope that they may become
huge trees a century or so later, The
tender young plants are easily killed
by parasitic soil fungi.
Doctor Wiant finds that soil treat
ment with several chemicals, espe
clally with some recently discovered
chlorophenol mercury compounds, de
stroys these parasites and permits
«the baby pines to develop until they
are strong enough to be secure agalnst
these enemies.—Science Magazine,
Pictures Long Hidden
Pictures that had been hidden for
many years were revealed recently by
workmen renovating an anclent build
ing In Prague, Czechoslovakia, The
walls of the structure were decorated
with figures producing an effect sim
flar to that on pottery, and when the
coating of dust and paint was re
moved, the art work was clearly
shown. The pictures had been worked
in plaster, an Imitation of bas-reliet
being effected by layilng a coat of
white over one of black and then re
moving enough of the upper coating
to expose the black In the desired
designs and patterns. They are be
Ing preserved as curiosities,
Tender, Achin
Pors’piring fi’m
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Home of John Wesley
Bought by Wesleyans
Epworth vicarage, home of John
Wesley, founder of Methodism, is
about to pass into the hands of the
Wesleyan church. It has been an
Anglican rectory all these years, as
it wus in the days when the Wesley
brothors, their father, but above all
the noble figure of their mother, Su
zanne, lived there. It had fallen into
dilap:dation and the rector appealed
for nLelp. Naturally the Methodists
came forward and even proposed. to
buy the historic place. The broad
symp:thy that has marked inter-Prot
estant relations since the Lambeth
conference in England was also in
evidence at the conferences that led
to the purchase. There was a time,
not so far distant, when harsh words
might have fallen. It will no doubt
become a place of grateful pilgrimage
to tens of thousands of Wesley's fel
low men. But the old ghost that
haunted it in John Wesley’s youth,
that shufiling ghost, jocularly called
“old Jeffries,” is no longer there.—
Pierre Van Paassen, in the Atlanta
Constitution.
_ Claims Quilt Record
Mrs. Amanda Conrad, seventy-five,
Prairie Hill, Mo., believes she estab
lished a world record in quilt-making
when she completed a serap quilt con
taining 16,400 pieces. Nine spools of
thread were used and four months of
spare time occupied,
Correct
First' Knut—What would a nation
be without women?
5 Second Ditto—A stagnation, T guess.
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