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THE TRI WEEKLY JOURNAL
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A BIBLE THOUGHT FOR TODAY
The good that I would 1 do not; but the
evil which 1 would not, that I do. Now
if I do that I would not, it is no more I
that do it, but sin that dwelleth in me. I
find then a law, that when I would do
good, evil is present with me. For I de
light in the law" of God after the inward
man; but 1 see another law in my mem
bers, warring the law of the mind,
and bringing me into captivity to the law
of ysin which is in my members. O
wretched man that I am, who shall deliver
me from the body of this death? I thank
God through Jesus Christ our Lord! —
Romans 7:19-24.
A Slayer That Must Be Curbed I
WHAT will be the thought of readers a
thousand years hence when in turn
ing over the records of our year of
Grace they find that every day two hun
dred and six Americans were killed by ac
cidents, and that of this astounding total of
fatalities thirty-eight were incident to au
tomobiles? “A dark age, a dark age!” |
they well may say. And so, indeed, it is,
id careless destruction of human life, what
ever be its other claims to enlightenment
and progress.
Seventy-five thousand, three hundred per
sons were killed in this country during
1922 in accidents, an increase of approxi
mately two thousand over the year preced
ing. So reports the national safety con
gress now in session at Buffalo, New York
—•and adds that automobile deaths alone
numbered fourteen thousand. It appears
further that to automobile casualties are
chargeable as many as thirty-eight deaths
a day. These figures are reinforced by the
latest report of the Metropolitan Life In
surance company, whose statistics on mil
lions of industrial policyholders are gener
ally accepted as representative of condi
tions at large. For August of this year its
death rate as a whole was, with a single
exception, the lowest in Its records, being
seven and seven-tenths a thousand. But
its death rate in the realm of automobile
accidents was eighteen and four-tenths, as
against fifteen and four-tenths in August,
1922.
Facts that speak with a plainness so
terrible call for little comment, but for
.much thinking. The vast majority of the more
than seventy-five thousand Americans who
thus perish in the course of a twelvemonth
are victims of accidents easily avoidable.
It is carelessness that kills, carelessness in
every walk and at every turn of life/, but
especially on streets and highways. For
every motorist and every pedestrian ' who
suffers an accident, tens of thousands go
unscathed, a fact which shows what cir
cumspectness will do even in the midst of
thickening Not always by any
means, but certainly as a rule, the com
petent, watchful, cautious, considerate au
tomobile driver escapes trouble; and his
kind is in the majority. But the speed
fiend, the breaker of traffic laws, the in
different, the careless —he it is who slays
as he goes, and who must be curbed or
extirpated, if human fife is to have a
chance.
MUSINGS OF ABE MARTIN
We like quiet people, but President Cool
idge ought t’ say somethin’ purty soon jest
as a guarantee that th’ gover’ment at Wash
in’ton still lives. We hain’t read
more incredulous than ‘‘Ford won’t run.” “
(Copyright, 1923.)
THE ATLANTA TRI-WEEKLY JOURNAL
I Starving the 801 l VUeevil
ANEW and highly interesting honor roll,
proposed by the Albany Herald, is
I to carry the names of Dougherty coun
ty farmers who plow up and turn under their
cotton stalks by October the fifteenth. As a
service to their neighbors as well as a pro
tection to themselves, this act certainly will
entitle those performing It to public recog
nition and praise, and probably will Increase
many fold th© county’s yield for 1924.
The whys and wherefores are tersely set
forth by the Herald when it explains that
according to the best counsel destruction of
cotton stalks at the end of the season is a
most effectual means of boll weevil control.
Thus: "Where cotton has been successfully
raised in South Georgia since the advent of
the boll weevil, farmers have co-operated in
their communities in stalk-destroying cam
paigns. They have utterly destroyed all the
cotton foliage in their districts, leaving noth
ing for the pest to feed on. And when the
boll weevil finds nothing to feed on, it either
rises and flies in search of growing cotton,
or goes hungry until cold weather drives It
into hibernation. If an adult weevil is weak
ened by hunger, the chances are that it 'will
not survive the successive freezes of winter.
But no matter whether the boll weevil
starves, or leaves *in quest of food weeks be
fore the beginning of the hibernation period,
there will be very few of the pests in tnat
particular neighborhood the following spring.
The cotton crop, ”ierefore, will get a good
start, and if poison is judiciously used and
other precautions taken, excellent yields will
result.”
This procedure, to which our South Geor
gia contemporary so opportunely draws at
tention, is recommended by federal and state
agricultural authorities and is approved by
the experience of thousands of growers. It
should be observed, however, that the prac
tice, if it is to be effective, must be general.
One negligent farmer, leaving his cotton
stalks standing for weevil food, will Impair
or bring to naught the good work of scores
of his neighbors, for the boll weevil has no
superior in multiplying and replenishing the
earth about him.
Hence the urgent need of thoroughgoing
co-operation among farmers to the end that
they may make a clean sweep of the cotton
destroyer in their county and district. A
Georgia-wide campaign based upon the Al
bany Herald's plan will mean millions <?f
dollars saved for the value of next year's
crop. Let leaders in every county organize,
without delay, this simple yet exceedingly
important process of conservation.
J.ererma ds Unfulfilled
UNLESS you are sure of your mantle,
beware of prophesying. When France
entered the Ruhr last January to col
lect over-due reparations, there began to
pour from tearful pens on both sides of the
Atlantic a flood of jeremiads that continued
up to the moment of Gerinanys’ recent sur
render. Had a tithe of the woeful predictions
come to pass, Europe now would be bleed
ing to‘ death, or buried in the ashes of her
ruin. Foolhardy, disastrous, suicidal, they
called the French policy, adding that it was
certain to end in failure if not' in anarchy.
Well, the book is not yet closed, and be it
far from us to venture to say what the
seeds of time may yet bring forth. One
thing, however, is plain—the German Indus
sistanc broken down unde. ' "Hie pres
lending Itself to their dilatory tactics have
been brought to capitulation. Passive re
sistance has broken down under Gallis pres
sure. Complete and unconditional surrender
has been obtained by the resolute French,
whose position for enforcing claims for repa
rations is thus materially strengthened. And
so far the sun continues to rise and the
rains to fall, despite the swivel-chair proph
ets of calamity.
That the adventure of France was haz
ardous, there is no gainsaying; nor are its
consequences all yet measured. But its first
great objective has been attained; and the
possibilities for a stab’ peace appear larger,
rather than less, than when the year began.
The weeping seers of yesterday should be
comforted; but ins', ad, they are likely to go
scanning the. stars for new signs of dole.
uz e-Uns and You-ljns
v "wr r E-UNS” and “you-uns,” wontedly
\A/ assumed to belong to a mountain
dialect peculiar to the South, is
traced by a writer in the Kansas City Star
to so ancient and honorable an ancestry as
Tyndale’s translation of the New Testament,
where in the third chapter and ninth verse
of the Gospel of St. jMatthew may be read:
"And see that ye-ons thinke not'to save in
yourselves, We have Abraham to our father.”
Tyndale's version was printed in 1526, a
generation before Shakespeare. From that
same picturesque period of English speech
comes many a supposed provincialism of the
South and of New England. Ax, for ask;
mought, for might; holp, for help; afeard,
for afraid—these and scores of other quaint
forms, once common to this region but now
rarely heard save in mountain or rural
nooks, bear witness to a pure and persistent
Anglo-Saxon lineage.
FLOWING GOLD
BY REX REACH
i CHAPTER X—Continued
IT was this generally unsatisfactory state
of affairs that accounted for the junior
Nelson's presence in Wichita Falls at this
time. He and Bell had spent a stormy fore
noon together; he was in an irritable mood
when, early in the afternoon, a card was
brought into his office.
Nelson could not restrain a start at sight
of the name engraved thereon. He allowed
himself a moment in which to collect his
wits, then he opened slightly the desk drawer
in which he kept his revolver and gave in
structions to admit the caller.
Nelson revolved slowly in his chair; he
stared curiously at the newcomer; and his
voice was cold, unfriendly, as he said:
"This is quite a surprise, Gray.”
"My dear Colonel, would you expect me to
come to Wichita Falls without paying my
respects to my ranking officer, my immediate
superior?”
“That means, I infer, that you refuse to
close the chapter?”
As if he had not heard this last remark,
Gray continued easily: "It is a selfish mo
tive that brings me here. I come to crow.
It is my peculiar weakness that I demand an
audience for what I do; I must share my
triumphs with some one, else they taste flat,
and since you are perhaps the one man in
Texas who knows me best, or has the slight
est Interest in my doings, it is natural that
I come to you.”
This guileless confession evoked a posi
tive scowl. "What have you done,” the
banker sneered, “except get your name in
the papers?”
"I have made a large amount of money,
for one thing, and I am having a. glorious
time. Now that Evans lease, for in
stance ”
"Oh! You’ve come to crow about that.”
“Not loudly, but a little. I turned the
greater part of that land for as much as
$5,000 an acre. Odd that we should have
come into competition with each other on
my very first undertaking, isn’t it? Fasci
nating business, this oil. All one needs, to
succeed, is experience and capital.”
Nelson Rurst forth in sudden irritation.
“What are you getting at? You know I
don’t care a damn whht you’re doing, how
much money you’re making ”
“Strange! Inasmuch as practically every
dollar I have made has come out of you, In
directly.”
For a moment Nelson said nothing; then,
“Just what do you mean by that?”
“Exactly what I said. I’ve cut under you
wherever possible. When you-'wanted acre
age, I bid against you and ran the price up
until you paid more than it was worth. That
which I secured I managed ”
"You! So —you’re the one back of that!”
Nelson’s amazement destroyed the Insecure
hold he had thus far maintained upon him
self. Furiously he cried: "You’re out to
get me! That’s it, eh?”
"I am, indeed. And half my satisfaction
jn doing so will be in knowing that you
know what I’m up to.”
“Well, by God! I knew you had the gall
of tiie devil, but See here, Gray, don’t
you understand what I can do to you? I
don’t want anj r trouble with you, but one
word from me and ”
“Os course you want no trouble with me;
but alas! my dear Colonel, you are going to
have it. Oh, a great deal of trouble. More
trouble than you ever had in all your life.
Either you are going broke, or I am.” Gray’s
tone changed abruptly. “For your own good
remove your hand from the neighborhood of
that drawer. lam too Jose to you for gun
play. Good! Now about that one word from
you. You won’t speak it, for that .would
force me to utter nasty truths about you, and
you would suffer more than I, this being
your home town where you are respected.
Anri the truth is nasty, isn't it?”
Colonel Nelson had grown very white dur
ing this long speech. He rose to his feet
and laid one shaking hand upon his desk as
if to steady himself.
“You think you can beat me—Want to
make it a money fight ,do you? Well, I’ll
give you a bellyful. Every dollar I’ve got
will go to smash you—smash you!”
"Splendid!” Gray was on his feet now
and he was smiling icily.
“Are you gentlemen going to talk for
ever?” The inquiry came in a woman’s
voice. Both Nelson and Gray turned to be
hold a smiling, animated face framed in a
crack of the door.
“Miss Good!” Calvin Gray strode for
ward, took the girl's hand in his and drew
her oyer the threshold. “My dear Miss Good,
I have rummaged half the state looking for
you.”
“I hope I’m not interrupting. I recog
nized you and ——” The girl turned her
eyes to Henry Nelson, but at sight of his
face her smile vanished. “Oh, I’m sorry!”
she cried. “Let me run out ”
Gray held her hands more firmly. "Never.
Do you think I shall risk losing you again?
Colonel Nelson and I had finished our chat
and were merely exchanging pleasantries.”
“Yes. Colonel Gray was just leaving,”
Nelson managed to say. j
“Colonel? Are you a colonel, too?” the
girl inquired, and Gray bowed. “We were
commissioned at the same time and place,
but Colonel Nelson received his a moment
earlier than I received mine, therefore he
outranked me. Now, then, permit me to
retire while you and he ”
“Oh, there’s nothing confidential about
I have to say. It’s good news for my
partner, and I'm sure he’d love to it.”
To Nelson she announced, “Pete has a show
ing of oil! ’’
The vice president, of the bank murmured
something which was lost in Gray’s quick
inquiry: “Partner? Are you a partner of
Colonel Ntelson?”
“After a fashion. We own a twenty-acre
lease west of ‘Burk’—that is, I have a quar
ter interest and Henry Is putting down a
well. I drove out there, and his driller told
me it is looking good.”
Gray turned a keenly inquisitive gaze upon
his enemy, and what he saw, or fancied he
saw, gave him the thrill of a new discovery.
It may have been no more than intuition on
his part, but something convinced him that
his acquaintance with Miss Good dis
pleased the man.
IN his warmest tone he cried: “Congratu
lations, my dear Colonel. However badly
you have fared in the Ranger
fortune favors you here. But why only a
quarter interest? You put too low a price
upon your blessings. I’ll better that ar
rangement. Why, I was ready to offer Miss
Good a full half of all I have, when she
played a heartless jest upon me. Ran away!
Disappeared! I’ll admit I was piqued. I
was deeply resentful, but ”
Nelson interrupted this flow of extrava
gance. “ ‘Mis s Good?’ ” he said, curiously.
“Why does he call 'you that, ‘Bob?’ ”
“A secret! A little game of pretense.”
Gray declared, hastily. “For the sake of
our friendship. Colonel, don’t tell her my
real name and rob me of the pleasure of
hearing it from her own lips. Come, Miss
Good! I am going to bear you away upon
my arm, even at the risk of displeasing my
WHAT ABOUT COTTON?
WHEN the government report came out
on October 2 and declared the 1923
crop would be considerably over
11,000,000 bales, involuntarily I spoke out,
“Where is it coming from?” This must
sound huge to these Georgia farmers who
will not make enough cotton to pay taxes
and fertilizer bills. >
Doubtless this is believed to be a correct
report by those who publish it abroad, but I
do not forget what happened some years ago
when the people who had to make out the
reports were bribed in the Interest of certain
cotton speculators in |New York and Liver
pool and were “caught in the act,” so to
speak, There were two men and one woman
in Washington City who made the lying
statement. K
In this era of lawlessness and “dollar a
year” philanthropists we may expect - to be
fooled occasionally. Just one misleading re
port will “make the fur fly,” and it is well
understood that th© United States is domi
nated by the Liverpool cotton market. The
present price of cotton is not a high price,
if the cotton crop l s short. The producer
should get a reasonable share of the profit,
certainly. The middle man and the specu
lator get more out of the profit than is
equitable all the time, every year.
But it should be rated as a crime to send
out deceptive reports, under government au
thority, when a cent a pound or a single
figure in the number of bales will rob the
people who produced it of a decent price in
Liverpool. Os one thing we may be sure,
the Georgia crop is lamentably short; and it
will be picked and mostly sold by the pro
ducer inside of a month. The season for
gathering the staple has been splendid.
Without rain and without cold weather to
hinder, the season has been almost without
a parallel for saving the cotton in first-class
order.
PROPER PRIDE
I AM proposing to write about the sort
of pride which helps a young man to
keep away from bad company, and to
seek his intimates among people who are of
like mind as himself.
It is the province of proper pride to cul
tivate self-respect, for without such respect
for one’s self there is scant difference be
tween a stately high-stepper in modern so
ciety and the bum who beats his way along
the line of least resistance. There is also a
pompous flride, and it i s plentiful in quan
tity, and often disgusting in quality. This
sort of pride is the twin to vainglory and
vainglorious people, whose haughty pride
always goes before a fall, is numerous in
this land of ours. We are afflicted with
pomposity.
The sort of pride which can be truthfully
called proper is accompanied with modesty,
INFLUENZA PREVENTION
By H. Addington Bruce
THE idea that chlorine and possibly other
gases, may he a potent ally in man's
struggle agai.ist influenza, finds strong
corroboration in a report recently made to
the American Chemical Society by Dr. Harri
son Hale.
In his report Dr. Hale details results of
experiments tried at the University of Ar
kansas, where many instructors, students and
others breathed, for five minutes dally, air
containing a small amount of chlorine. In
fluenza was at the time raging in the uni
versity and its neighborhood. ThE contrast
was seen:
The number of cases of influen in the
college dormitories was at the rate of 133 for
1,000. Among all those taking the chlorine
treatment, some of whom came only once,
the rate was 44 per 1,000.
“This figure included those who stated that
they were sick at the time treatment was
taken, as well as those who took only one or
two treatments and developed influenza some
days later. Omitting such cases, the rate
among those taking the treatment was 13 pgr
1,000, ®r about one-tenth of the average
rate.”
One is reminded of earlier experiments
along similar lL.es and of reports made by
Gudeman and Baskerville, all suggesting the
possibility of using, not chlorine only, but
other gases in combating influenza. Still, as
Dr. Hale emphasizes, much research work
will have to be done to transform this pos
sibility into an actuality, and to determine
such matters as the minimum amount of
chlorine needed for protection, the best
method of treatment, etc.
So that stress must continue to be laid
chiefly on ordL. ry hygici .methods of pre
vention. Among these none is of more im
portance than the maintaining of general
“fitness.”
It is no mere coincidence that the summer
months are commonly the months of greatest
freedom from influenza as from all other
respiratory diseases. In the summer the
mode of living—frequent bathing, ample ex
ercise in the open, fresh fruit and vegetable
diet, and so forth —makes disti ctly for
physical vigor.
All too frequently as winter approaches
the mode of living changes for the worse,
vigor wanes in some degree, and suscepti
bility to infection is corresponding! increas
ed. The health habits oT the summer should
be retained—and must be retained if the
ideal of influr.za prevention is to be realised.
Os scarcely sec ndar. impor' ce is re
membrance of the fact that influenza, while
usually styled an ai r L -ne infection, is as
often as not, perhaps rather oftener, hand
borne.
To touch jne’s fingers to one's lip, to
handle food with hands that have not been
well washed, is to run the risk of getting into
one’s system, not the infl enza germ alone
but the germ of many another s rious dis
ease.
MY FAVORITE STORIES
By Irvin S. Cobb
On an overcast, murky and very warm
day, an assistant copy-reader on a New York
afternoon paper, reading a slip that had just
come over the news ticker, called out to the
make-up editor, who was across the city
room waiting to get the day’s weather report
in order to stick it in its proper place on
the front page of the edition then about to
go to press:
“Cloudy and humid!”
A large, perspiring mail carrier, coal black
as to color, who had just entered the room,
bringing a registered letter, spoke up:
“Look here, white man, I’m a gover’ment
employe. I didn’t come in here to be in
sulted!”
(Copyright, 1923.)
superior officer. Ha! Lucky the war is
over. Now, then, your promise.”
Henry Nelson stood motionless as he
watched his two callers leave the bank to- ’
gether, then slowly he clenched Fis muscular
hands, and from his lips there issued an oath
better left unwritten.
Continued Thursday. Renew your sub
scription now so as not to miss an install
ment. i
THE COUNTRY HOME
BY MRS. W. H. FELTON
t THE SETTING
By Dr. Frank Crane
Everything depends upon the setting.
Nine-tenths of the charm of anything is
I its background.
Not long ago I saw an ancient Shinto Tem
ple. It was nothing like as huge and cost
1 nothing near as much as/ Saint Paul’s Cathe
dral, but, although 1 am a Christian, it was
more impressive to me because it was set
on the side of a high green mountain and
surrounded by a grove of gigantic cryp-
■ tomerias.
The value of a picture depends very much
upon where it is hung.
EVen a chair or a table, though most
; artistic and expensive, gives poor satisfaction
, if it is set in the wrong place.
A great tree standing alone in a meadow
is vastly more impressive than if it were
crowded with its fellows in the- forest.
. So it is with what you say; its value is
determined very largely by who you are and
i when, where and how you say it, quite as
, much as by the contents of the sentence it
' self.
In a heated discussion the man who will
keep still until everybody gets through and
then expresses his opinion quietly, puts tre
mendous force behind what he says.
A word set in poise shines like a jewel.
Mark Twain could not open his mouth and
say a word but we thought it extremely fun
ny; there was the setting of years of repu
tation. You, being a mere bookkeeper in a
grocery, might say ‘‘honesty is the best pol
icy,” and no one would pay any attention
to you; but let the king arise from his
throne, or the president appear upoii the
White House steps, or the prime minister
take his stand upon the floor of parliament,
i and amid the breathless hush of the auditors
declare that “honesty is the best policy,” and
the same would be telegraphed, cabled,
radioed, printed and repeated at the ends of
the earth.
How much twaddle Is perpetrated and lis
tened to simply because of its setting. I
have heard bishops babble xVhile the great
congregation looked up with worshipful eyes.
I have heard presidents pull platitudes so
dreadful that I did not know whether to
laugh or cry, and have been astounded to
I see his hearers clap their hands and turn
j aroun'd and smile ai 1 nod their heads at
I each other. I have read the most monstrous
| drivel perpetrated by judges; tlieir lives were
j saved only by the bench on which they sat:
I if they had been school-boys they would have
been spanked and sent home.
QUIPS AND QUIDDITIES
Mr. Wombat is always looking for the
perfect office boy—like the one In the third
i reader who picked up the pin. He had never
yet found him, but the other day thought he
had him The boy didn’t seem so promising,
but was told to look in again the next morn
ing. As the kid -went out he stooped over
and salvaged something.
“Call him back,” directed (he boss.
The bookkeeper called him back.
“What did you pick up just then, my fine
little fellow?” asked the boss.
The kid extended a grimy palm.
In it reposed a cigar butt.
She was very beautiful and had called in
answer to an advertisement for a typist.
“Where were you employed last?” asked
the head of the firm.
“In a doll factory,” replied the applicant,
i "And what were your duties there?”, was
I the next question.
"Making eyes,” she replied, with a smile.
) "Very well. You are engaged,” she was
informed, “but pelase don’t demonstrate
1 your capabilities when my wife is around.”
They were giving a dinner party and the
, coachman had come in to help wait at table. !
Several guests had suffered from his lack of ■
! experience, and in serving peas he approach
( ed a very deaf old lady and inquired:
■ “Peas, mum?”
No answer
“Peas, mum?” (Louder.)
The old lady saw that someone was speak
ing to her, and lifted her ear trumpet to the
questioner. The coachman, seeing the large j
end of the trumpet directed toward him, j
thought:
“It must be a new way of takin’ ’em, but ,
I s'pose she likes ’em that way.”
i And down the trumpet went the peas.
TUESDAY, OCTOBER 9, 1923. '
if not meekness.*' Such modesty is very be
coming and wears 'well. Perhaps tempera
ment has a good deal to do with the outward
manners of our people, and there may be
genuine good folks who are naturally in
clined to be voci.'o: ous and boastful of their
achievements, but Uiey are the exception and
not the rule. “Men are sometimes accused
of pride merely because their accusers w T ould
be proud themselve s if they -were in their
places.”
It is said to he with nations as with Indi
viduals, those who know the least of others
think most highly of themselves. Voltaire
said, "The infinitely little have a pride that
is infinitely great.” This is not a proper
sort of pride.
Sduthey tells the following of John
Bunyan: After Bunyan had preached a
great sermon and his friends crowded around
him to shake his hand, w’hile they expressed
admiration for hi s eloquence, etc., John in
terrupted them to say, "Ay, you needn’t re
mind me of that. The Devil told me the
same thing before I got out of the pulpit.”
Once upon a time a certain United States
senator made a great hit by what was sup
posed to be an impromptu reply to an attack
made by a northern senator on the south’s
politics after the Civil War. The impromptu
feature was vociferously applauded and the
reporters made frequent mention of the great
orator who could "think on hig feet.” 1
chanced to hear the matter discussed some
time afterward, and one of the senator’s in
timates who had the "run” of his rooms in
the hotel where the senator lodged, spoke up,
"Impromptu? Betcha your life he had not
only written it out, but committed it to
memory!” In spite of my admiration for the
"impromptu” orator, he had cheapened
himself in my humble estimation, because he
permitted himself to be thus falsely adver
tised, and, while my politics were on his
si<Je of the fence, I never could relieve my
self of the impression that he-would have
been a cheap faker If he had belonged to a
common circus.
There is a certain noble pride which al
ways shine s brighter through the veil of
modesty and truth.
Thackeray thus discoursed on the subject
of pride, and he was a master in the craft of
drawing fine distinctions: “You who are
ashamed of your poverty and blush for your
calling are a snob, as are you who boast of
your pedigree or are proud of your ■wealth.”
And Shakespeare said: “He that is proud
eats up himself. Pride is his own glass, his
own trumpet, his own chronicle, and what
ever praises itself in the deed devours the
deed in the praise.”
Coming back to, proper pride, I think we
can safely say it is a copartner with honest
self-respect, and without respect for your
self you are poverty-stricken, although your
bank deposits run up into millions.
HER MONEY
BY CAROLYN BEECHER
What has gone before—Althea Cros-
by, dying, leaves her home and $50,000
in bonds to her niece and namesake,
whom she has never seen. Her lawyer
sets out for New York to find the young
woman. —Now go on with the story.
CHAPTER II
JOHN CROSBY had parted from his sister
years before after a quarrel. She had
thought him too young to marry and
had opposed him in every way she could.
They ha'd been orphaned years before and
she, several years older, had brought him up.
His marrying, going to a distant state, would
leave her all alone. Then, too, she consid
ered him too young to wisely handle his little
fortune left by their parents, although it was
legally his.
In this she had been right. He had been
badly advised, had made poor investments,
had lived rather extravagantly because of his
lack of experience and o's the same lack in
his young wife —a sweet, dainty girl whom
he worshiped. *
When their child, a baby girl, was born
he had written Althea, telling (her he had
named the baby for her, that he thought it
was going to resemble her, and begging for
a reconciliation.
Althea had replied coldly, then shortly
afterward came the,news of John’s death.
His young widow, resentful that the sister
had “ndt replied mord graciously to his ad
vances, had simply informed her of his death,
giving no details,-saying nothing regarding
her financial condition.
Perhaps had they lived nearer the old
home Althea Crosby might have acted dif
ferently. Had she been able to attend the
funeral, see the wife and the child that had
been named for her, life for all of them might
have flowed in different channels —perhaps
might have been lived in sympathy.
But Althea could not reach California in
time for her brother’s burial, so after writ
ing a short note in reply to the one her
sister-in-law sent, s he dismissed both her and
the child from her thoughts. A lonely spin
ster. grown bitter with years, she remained
in the old home alone, while on the coast
John Crosby’s widow, left with only a tiny
remnant of the fortune that once seemed so
great to her, brought up the other Althea,
kept her in school, loved and shielded her
until she, too, passed away when Althea was
almost seventeen—three years before the
older Althea’s death.
This was all that was known of Miss
Crosby’s niece, the girl to whom she had left
her fortune. But with money much can be
accomplished. The old lawyer found that
Althea had remained in California for a year
or two after her mother passed - away, and
that she - had taken a position in a store as
salesgirl. He learned that she had come
East, saying she would try to get work in
New York.
Several people who had known Althea
were interviewed, but no one could give her
address; no one knew for certain that she
was in New York. Yet all thought it likely,
because she had talked freely of her desire
to find work there.
To find a girl in New York would seem as
difficult as to find the proverbial needle in
a haystack. But with the supposition to go
on that she would probably be working in
some ptore, would use her experience as
salesgirl in the West to secure a position,
there, a search of the shops was begun.
Newspaper advertisements asked Althea
Crosby to communicate with a certain firm of
lawyers if she would learn something to her
advantage. Still another read: "The heirs
of Althea Crosby wanted,” etc.
But no replies came from the advertise
ments and the search went on. The old
lawyer up in the little Massachusetts town
had been told to spare no money to locate
her. '
Whether Althea Crosby had regretted her
actions, if she felt she had wronged this girl,
her only relative, she never said so. Yet her
instructions were explicit. The girl, If liv
ing, must be found.
“What becomes of Miss Crosby’s fortune” if
you don’t find the girl?” the minister’s wife
asked the lawyer.
"Unless we prove that she is dead we are
to keep looking until we find her. If she
has passed away, and we have proof of it,
the money all, comes to the town. You see,
Miss Crosby had no other he care
fully explained.
“And the house?” The minister’s wife
was something of a gossip, possessed of a
good deal of curiosity.
“That and the contents would be sold and
the money also go to the town. Miss Crosby
was very careful that everything should be
perfectly clear; that her wishes would be un
derstood and carried out. It would be z well
if more people were like her.
“And she left nothing to anyone except
this niece she never has seen?”
“Not a penny, except to the two servants.
You know, Miss Crosby was a bit peculiar.”
“Yes —so dignified and unapproachable.”
Thig was almost a sin in the eyes of the min
ister’s wife.* “Almost hard. But she is gone.
We must think of her as kindly as we can.”
“She had her good traits,” the lawyer re
plied grimly, thinking he understood his
questioner’s disappointment. She had thought
she or the church would have been remem
bered in Miss Crosby’s will.
Continued Thursday. Renew your sub
scription now so as not to miss a chapter of
this splendid story.
. QUIZ
Any Tri-Weekly Journal reader can
got the answer to any question puzzling
him by writing to The Atlanta Journal
Information Bureau, Frederic J. Has
kin director, Washington, D. C., and in
closing a two-cent stamp for return
postage. DO NOT SEND IT TO OUR
ATLANTA OFFICE.
Q. What does Chee-chaco means? J. D. P.
A. It is a slang term used in the far
northwest for a tenderfogt.
Q. Are there Indian tribes where most a’t
the people still live in wigwams? A. J. D.
A. The. Indian office says that of the
371 Indian tribes still remaining fn the
United States there are only twenty trines
where the majority of Indians and their
families dwell in teepees, wikiups or hogans.
Q. How do the profits of the Panama
canal compare with the cost of building it?
R. A. G.
A. The Panama canal commission says
that the profits from the canal to date have
been approximately $16,000,000, while
the cost of building the canal was approxi
mately $375,000,000.
, Q. How many people in the United States
work and what is the per capita wealth?
J. G. B.
A. The census gives the number of per
sons ten years and over engaged in gainful
occupations at 41,14.248. The population
of the United States, latest census, is 105,-
710,300. The total wealth of the United
States is estimated at $187,839,000,000, or
$1,9 6 5 per capita.