Newspaper Page Text
4
THE TRI-WEEKLY JOURNAL
ATLANTA, GA., 5 NORTH FORSYTH ST.
Entered at the Atlanta Postoffice as Mail
Matter of. the Second Class.
Daily, Sunday, Tri-Weekly
SUBSCRIPTION PRICE TRI-WEEKLY
Twelve Months SI.OO
Six Months 50c
Three months .. . 25c
Subscription prices Daily and Sunday
(By Mail—Payable Strictly in Advance)
1 Wk. 1 Mo. 3 Mos. 6 Mos. 1 Yr.
Dally and Sunday.. .20c 90c $2.50 $5.00 $9.50
Dally 16c 70c 2.00 4.00 7.50
Sunday 10c 45e 1.25 2.50 5.00
NOTICE TO SUBSCRIBERS
The label used for addressing your paper shows the
time your subscription expires. By renewing at least
two weeks before the date on this label, you insure
regular service.
In ordering paper changed, be sure to give your
Old, as well as your new address. If on a route,
please give the route number.
We cannot enter subscriptions to begin with back
numbers. Remittances should be sent by postal order
•r registered mail.
Address all orders and notices for this Department
IE TRI-WEEKLY JOURNAL, Atlanta, Ga.
Tell It to Little Miss Fixit
If anything is wrong in service from
The Tri-Weekly Journal, let us know.
Send a letter or postcard to Little Miss
I M J
LITTLE MISS FIXIT,
Care Tri-Weekly Journal,
Atlanta, Georgia. (
A BIBLE THOUGHT FOR TODAY
Now Moses kept the flock of Jethro, his
father-in-law, the priest of Midian; and he
led the flock to the backside of the desert,
and came to the mountain of God, even to
Horeb. And the angel of the Lqrd appeared
unto him in a flame of fire out of the
midst of a bush: and he looked, and, be
hold, the bush burned with fire, and the
bush was not consumed. And Moses said,
“I will now turn aside and see this great
sight, why the bush is not burnt.” And
when the Lord saw that he turned aside to
see, God called unto him out of the midst
of the bush, and said, “Moses, Moses”
And he said, “Here am 1.” And He said,
“Draw not nigh hither; put off thy shoes !
from off thy feet, for the place ivhereon
thou standest is holy ground ” —Exodus
3:1-5.
Only a Candidate
RARELY is news less newsy than that in
which Senator Hiram Johnson an
nounces his candidacy for the presi
dential nomination and proclaims his issue.
He has been a candidate so frequently, so
low and of late so continuously that the
formal announcement smacks strongly of
“wasteful and ridiculous excess.’’ Equally
newsless is his issue. “I am against the
League of Nations,” he says, ‘‘and ail its sub
sidiaries, membership in which would tend to
participation, directly or indirectly, in the
League.” For us to enter the world court
of justice would “involve us in the political
struggles abroad,” and “inevitably draw us
into the European maelstrom which we
fondly imagined the election of 1920 had
delivered us.”
The Senator calls himself “progressive”
and fancies himself ahead of the times. But
as a fact he is anti-progressive, and at least
two thousand years behind. His record in
the last Congress runs parallel with that of
the Old Guard on matters cf domestic mo
ment, such as the tariff and other questions
on which public interest and private privi
lege clashed. As for international policies,
he boasts of being an Isolationist and opposes
its most broadly useful expression that
spirit of peace and good-will among men
which is the historic heart of the Christian
•ra. Though he denounces the “ultra-conserva
tives” as “materialistic, stolidly and stub
bornly contesting every human advance,”
and as standing insensible -to “mankind’s
gradual progress,” blind to “the idealistic
and forward-looking,” he himself maintains
the while that very attitude, and out of his
own mouth furnishes his condemnation.
It is hardly imaginable that one of the
major parties of America would nominatte
Hiram fo the country is
quite safe, no doubt, from that disaster. But
the misfortune is that he remains in the
Senate.
A Dangerous Break Averted
TEMPORARILY, at least, the danger of a
breach between France and England
has been averted. Following Poincare’s
provocative speech on Sunday, the action of
his spokesmen at the next day’s conference
•f ambassadors in deferring so freely to Brit
ish opinion, came somewhat as a surprise. The
french premier, however, is not unlike other
popular leaders in balancing bold words with
discreet deeds; brandishing the big stick, he
takes care to tread softly.
He can well afford concessions when the
French position in German territory is already
so strong, and when a further advance for
penalties would be likely to bring new com
plication rather than increased security. What
more than possession of the Ruhr is really
needful to enforce treaty demands upon Ger
many and to deter her from military aggies
Fixit, who will quick
ly and cheerfully see
that things are made
right.
We want every sub
scriber to get The Tri-
Weekly Journal reg
ularly and punctual
ly. We want all of
them to receive what
they have paid for.
We want only satis
fied subscribers. A
small percentage of
errors are unavoid
able, but we want to
correct them quickly.
Address,
: . I a.. t i,.JA JOIMb
sions? Anything essential to those purposes
will be warranted; but beyond them France
can hardly hear a sober qall. This, it is good
to note, is now the expressed judgment of her
own statesmen who are free to speak.
The British attitude, on the eve of the
threatened break, was tersely set forth by the
London Times. Declaring that the French
insistence upon further action at this juncture
placed Downing Street in a dilemma, the
Times went on to explain: “On the one hand
I the prolonged suspension of the operations of
the Inter-Allied Military Commission is due
to occupation of the Ruhr in -which this
county has had no part. Britain never
shared the illusion that occupation of the
Ruhr would bring reparations and security.
Our fear indeed was that the form of separate
action chosen by France would produce just
the contrary result. Germany is now in a
state of economic and political chaos, but
under this whirl of contending forces the re
actionary militarist movement appears to be
gaining ground. At present this movement
does not threaten the security of any power
but Germany. It is possible, however, and in
deed probable, that it has had the result of
increasing the military forces of Germany
above the limit allowed for in the treaty.
We are quite willing to prevent a revival of
German militarism, but we a?e entitled to ask
that this demand should be consistent and ef
fective.” It is contended further that if
Poincare had strengthened German democracy
in September, when the Stresemann govern
ment was based op a broad coalition, the
forces of reaction would not have gained
headway as they have.' Finally, “The British
difficulty is that we are asked to join in de
mands that in present conditions —not of our
own making—seem impracticable, and that it
is proposed to enforce them by sanctions
which will increase confusion and danger
and to which we cannot possibly consent.”
Whatever the merits of ‘the issue, it is
most gratifying tha!. France and England
have not come to a point of antagonism over
the v Central European situation. They parted
company when France launched her expedi
tion into the Ruhr; but though they have not *
gone together through the ensuing months,
neither have they or.oken apart on the tunda
mertals of the Versailles treaty. Moreover,
it is devoutly to be wished that the way tfi
international concord and co-wori<ing, instead
of being narrowed will be broadened to in
dlude all justice-lovtnations.
THE SPIRIT OF THE COMMONS
By Dr. Frank Crane
THERE have been learned men and un
doubted saints on earth and in every
age, Sit:that which distinguishes this
from all foregoing ages is the movement to
popularize science and sanctity.
The d./ of the esoteric has passed. If any
man has something to say he is expected to
say it in term- understandable by the peo
ple; and what he can not say in this manner
we suspect he does not know.
To suppose democracy to be a mere polit
ical affair is to mistake its wide bearing; for
it lays its strong hand also on science, let
ters and gion.
Th© saint and the savant, in former time,
had a contempt for “the world.” They were
offended when the common people under
stood them. Class aristocracy and superipr
soul claptrap was rife in the church and the
university as it was in court.
The most striking trait of the twentieth
century is» the awakening of the human race
to self-consciousness. A sonnet by Thomas
Wade runs: |
“There is a might dawning on the earth
Os human glory; dreams unknown before
Till the mind’s boundless world; the deep
drawn lore,
But late a hidden fount, at which a few
Quaffed and were glad, is now a flowing river,
Which parched nations may approach and
view*
Kneel down and drink,”
The real progress of the world is the prog
ress of the masses, not of the few. The men
of genius who are writing today are doing
no better work than- Homer or Plato or
Horace, ‘he improvement has been in the
readers.
Evolution during the period covered by
human history has not been marked so much
by producing greater and greater geniuses,
but as it has by the slow rising of the level
of the commons. It is the gradual advance
ment of the common •■'eople and the asser
tion of their rights and improvement in in
telligence and culture that mark the onward
sweep of humanity.
QUIPS AND QUIDDITIES
Mrs. Widgers’ only lodger was an actor,
and one night he presented her with two
tickets to see him play the villain in the
great drama, “All for Love.”
Spellbound, Mrs. Widgers and her daugh
ter .watched the villain pursue his wicked
way through three acts.
It was a great shock to her to find she had
harbored such a villain beneath her roof.
But worse was to come. In the last act the
triumphant hero shot the villain through the
heart.
“Oh, mother,” cried Miss Widgers. in a
voice that was heard above the loud applause,
“they’ve killed our lodger and he owes us
two weeks’ rent!”
There was a pretty city damsel spending
the summer on the R. F. D. route and the
village postmaster was a little afraid she
might damage the heart of his youthful car
rier. So he called the young man in for a
conference.
“Now, Abner, don’t take that summer
boarder too seriously.”
“I won’t.”
“She may mean no harm,” continued the
postmaster, “but she’s a bit of a flirt. T
know for a fact, thatj she has love and kisses
sent her from three city fellers.” ,
“That’s all right,” said the young carrier.
“All I do is deliver ’em.” |
FLOWING GOLD
\
BY REX -BEACH
CHAPTER XXII—CONTINUED
BUDDY, meanwhile, had been staring at
the door, and he was surprised when,
instead of his family, he saw entering
a strange man and a boy small of stature
but old of face, a boy insouciant, impudent,
swaggering. It was this boy who spoke
first.
i'Hello, momma!” he cried. r
At sound of his-voice Buddy recoiled, for
it was deeper than his own. His expression
of dismay was no doubt ludicrous, at any
rate the urchin's lively eyes leaped to his
face -and remained there, while a grin
spread over his features.
“Hully Gee!” rumbled the lad.' “Here’s
another one that ought to be buried!’
“Mrs. Fulton” —it was Gray speaking—
“l took the liberty of asking your son—”
Buddy Briskow heard no more, for his
ears were roaring. Her son! That voice!
Being little more than a boy himself, noth
ing could have hurt him more cruelly than
this; his impulse was to leave the room for
his world had come down in crashing ruin.
She had died! She had made a fool of him.
Gray had been right. ‘ •
The others were still talking when Buddy
broke in faintly. His battered visage was
white, his lips were colorless. “I reckon
this—ends my part of the entertainment,”
said he. Slowly he seated himself and
bowed his head in his hands, for he had
become quite ill.
Arline Montague—Margie Fulton —once
the blow had fallen, behaved rather well;
she took Bennie in her arms and kissed
him, then in answer to his quick look of
dismay at her agitation, she patted him on
the shoulder and said: “It’s all right, son.
You didn’t know.”
“Didn’t know what?’’ demanded the lad.
"Say—” He* stared angrily from one face
to another. “Is it a plant?”
“Take my key. Here!” The mother
thrust her room key into the boy’s hand.
“Run along . I—-I’ll see you in a few min
utes. To Mallow she said: “Take him out,
please. You brought him.”
Mallow’, flushing uncomfortably, took
Bennie by the wrists and dragged him to
the door.
Margie turned to Briskow, but in his at
titude, Kis averted gaze, she read the doom
of her hopes. One final chance remained,
however, and desperately she snatched at
it. “Buddy!” she cried. “Buddy!” Her
voice -was poignant as she pleaded. “I
couldn’t tell you the truth. I wanted to —
I laid awake nights trying to get the cour
age, but I was afraid you wouldn’t under
stand. I’d have told you the whole thing, if
you’d ever given me the chance. You know
I’ve been does it make so much
difference that I have a son?” When the
object of her appeal only stirred, she went 1
on, reproachfully: “Are you going to allow
this—this man to—come between us?”
“I wouldn'l believe you now, if—” Buddy
choked. “I’m through!”
“You mean that?” The young fellow
nodded. “Very well!” Something in the
tone of the last words, some accent of des
peration, caused Buddy to raise his head.
He was in time to see Margie fumble with
her purse and extract something therefrom;
to Buddy’s eyes it resembled a bottle.
“There is no use fighting any more. You
have ruined my life.”
“My God!” young Briskow yelled, in dis
may. ‘‘Don’t do that! Stop her!” He leaped
to his feet and lunged for the poison vial
which was trembling upon Arline’s lips.
Gray, too, had been galvanized into action
but of an unexpected nature, he grappled
with Buddy and held jhim.
“Nonsense! Water won’t hurt her; and
that’s all it is. She’s kndSvn jas the ‘Suicide
Blonde,’ ” Gi*ay explained.
“Say! You’re bursting with information,
aren’t you?” It was Montague, tottering
upon the brink of the grave, who voiced this
explosive inquiry. Her drooping shoulders
straightened, she raised her head and flung
the empty bottle violently from her. With
head erect and with firm tread she moved to
the door; she turned there and blazed forth
in bitter scorn, her bobbed curls shaking
as she spoke: “Take that selling plater back 1
to the car barn. where he belongs. I'm off
boobsi for life.”
The. door slammed to behind the diminu
tive fury, and Gray feebly into a chair.
He w-as laughing silently. * *
“By Jove! She’s splendid!” he chuckled.
“Buddy, I—l like that woman.”
It was midafternoon of the next day. Mrs.
Fulton, after a restless night, was packing
her trunks. She halted her labors for a sec
ond time to scan a brief note that had ar
rived a few moments before and ran as fol
lows:
“Dear Mrs. Ful'ton: I am not really such
a bad sort as you consider me, and I’m gen
uinely interested in that boy of yours. Let’s
cry quits and have a serious talk about him
and —perhaps other things.
“Sincerely yours.
“CALVIN GRAY.”
She was thus engaged when there came a
knock, and in answer to her voice the writer
entered.
“Mrs. Fulton, I have learned that life is
a mixed affair, and that most of our actions
are the results of conflicting motives. Yesj
and that we ourselves are products of con
flicting forces, good and evil. Few of us are
as~good as we would like to have people be
lieve nor as bad as we appear. I wonder
if you will believe me when 1 say that I—
like you.”
‘Certainly not.”
“Nevertheless, I do. For one thing, you
”ve a good fighter and a good loser. I try to
be. but I fear I lack your spirit. I would
not‘have hurt you willingly.”
The woman tossed her head and turned
away; when she spoke, it was wearily: “J
might have known I couldn’t make the
jump. I never did win a big race. A good
loser, eh? Well, I’ve had enough practice at
it. How is Buddy? Hurt, I suppose. His
young life is blasted; he’ll nsver trust an
other woman.”
“He is standing it pretty well, and is
greatly cheered by the fact that he can see
out of his left eyg practically as well as ever.
He is going back to the oil fields and learn
the business. I am going to put him to
work. What are you going to do with Ben
nie?”
“Do with him? What can I do with him?”
“He is a bright buy.”
“I’m bright, too, but I have all I can do
to get by.”
“I’d like to help you make a man of him.”
“What? You? How?”
“I’d like to put him in business and teach
him that there is no profit in short-changing
customers. I’d enjoy giving the boy a
hand up, but—he is more than I’d care to
tackle alone.” ,
“There’s Mallow to help you. He’d be a
refining influence.” The mother's lip curled.
“How about you?”
“Me?”
“Isn’t the—sort of life you are living be
coming a bit tiresome? Aren’t you about
fed up on uncertainties?” The object of
these queries drew a deep breath; her eye
lids flickered, but she continued to stare at
the speaker. “Worry brings deeper wrinkles
than old age. Wouldn’t you like to tie to
s-omething solid and be able to show Bennie
that you are, at heart, the sorf of woman I
consider you? He'll soon be getting old
enough to wonder if you are what he thinks
you are or if—”
“I suppose you learned this—bayonet
THE COUNTRY HOME
BY MRS. W. H. FELTON
THE CRAZE FOR FIREARMS
TODAY’S newspapers carry the tragic
story of the accidental killing of a
youth who desired to own a' revolver
and had purchased the weapon with his own
money (his very first pay check), but who
killed himself by careless handling of the re
volver in the immediate presence of his
father, mother and their children on yester- .
day, not far from the city of Atlanta.
It is the same old, old story, “didn't know
it was loaded,” and the youth paid the pen
alty- and is now in his grave.
It is the one particular tragedy that al-1
w-ays comes along where parents encourage
the use of toy firearms with their children.
As I see it, the majority of Americans are
intent on warlike paraphernalia, and by the •
time a child is able to know what a toy pis
tol is the youngster is given toy pistols and ;
cannon as the one particular gift to the citi- j
zen still in embryo.
In the seventies we were in Washington .
City, my husband and myself, with a lit- '
tie son of six or seven years, were boarding ,
in the same hotel when Hon. Alex H. Ste
phens had rooms, and we were friendly
neighbors with the “Old Commoner,” as he
liked to be called by his admirers.
I had made a little shopping trip out in
the ctiy to find Santa Claus gifts for the
little boy on Christmas Eve. As I came
back to the hotel I called on Mr. Stephens
in his parlor, and told hi,m I had been thus
engaged in getting things for the child’s
stocking as Christmas gifts.
The old gentleman was very kind to the
little chap, and told me he had also remem
bered him, and then requested to . see what
I had provided for the same purpose. Among
the small parcels was a tiny toy pistol and
a harmless little noise maker for the same.
The aged congressman proceeded to give
me a lecture on the pistol gift, and he said
this craze for firearms was instilled into
American children by- the time they could
talk, and it was a curse to the .nation and
the indirect cause of thousands of shooting 1
scrapes and murders and accidents.
Indirectly, he also made me feel that he I
had expected better things of me; he cred
ited me with better sense, and he was sc
much in earnest he begged me to leave the
little toy pistol with him and not to allow
tl# boy to know it had been bought for him.
I was duly impressed with his i;eal affection
for the child and what he said to me awak
ened my mind to the truth of his words. He
often discoursed on this fateful obsession or •
craving for military trappings, and deplored !
the harmful waste of money on firearms by I ■
the majority of our people. He said it was ;
a national craze and we were prone to war, ;
and what war stood for, and the idea was >
planted in little children by injudicious :
foudness*for guns and pistols as toys.
Speaking of his defeat for the L T nited '
States senate soon after the Civil war, he
laid it to the “Drum and Fife,” which, he i
declared, had previously pushed Georgia into j
the Civil war of the ’6os. He was a Union
man, and he, with Hon. Herschal V. Johnson,
did their best to avoid secession, when they :
were voted down by the war contingent in
the famous secession convention. ;
What ho did with the little toy pistol that 1
I turned over to him, I never knew, but I
felt sure he had either burned it in his glow- 1
ing. anthracite -coal grate, or had it carried .
out in the garbage next day.
It was a word in season to me. I never
bought or bestowed another toy pistol on my
grandchildren. My pen and voice have been
enlisted against this foolish craze for’ fire
arms.
MY FAVORITE STORIES—By Irvin Cobb,
A Kentuckian went to Co'craflo to attend
a conventio-n. In the town where the con
vention was being held he bumped into a
native of his home county, now living in the
West. It was the first meeting between the
two for a good many years’.
“Well, Jim,” said the delegate, after the
first greetings, “how are you getting
along?”
The question seemed superfluous, for Jim
was shabby, down-at-the-hecls, out-at-the
elbows, and generally of a woebegone as
pect. Still, he asked it. Jim laughed a hollow
laugh.
“I feckin nobody ever had such sorry
luck as I’ve had,” he confessed. “My wife’s
been a confirmed invalid for years, I put
every cent I I'ad in a new business and she
busted up on me and left me flat-broke, and
I’ve been flat-broke ever since. My oldest
son z ain’t worth shucks and the youngest
one’s not much better. There’s a big differ
ence between me and my brother Jake back
home. Last I heard of him he was rolling
in money. I wish if you see him when you
get back that you’d tell him that if ever he
is going to do anything for his unfortunate
brother Jim, this is the time for him» to do
it, because right now fifty dollars in cash
would look big as a house to me.”
“I’ll make a point of doing it,” said the
visitor. “But look here, Jim, I’ve got a full
quart of eighteen-year-old ‘ Bourbon up
stairs here in my grip—the kind they used
to distill in the old state before those dad
burned prohibition iats grabbed holt of
things. Come on up to my room with -me
and we’ll sample it.”
The down-and-out went. He sighed deep-
practice in the army,” Mrs. Fulton said,
hoarsely.
“Anybody can make a good living in a j
country like this if he cares enough to try. j
I’ll back you if you need money.”
“And—what’s the price?” • '
“My price? Oh, I’d feel well repaid if
some day Bennie acknowledged that I was a :
‘regular guy,’ and if you agreed.”
“Is that all?”
“Quite Is there something you do— '
well?”
“I can cook. I’m a good cook. Women j
like me usually have hobbies they never can '
follow —and I have two. I can make a fool
of a stove, and I—l can design children’s ’
clothes, wonderful things, new things—” I
“Will you come to Wichita Falls and start j
a restaurant and make good things to eat, !
if I supply the money and the customers?” I
I
“Will I?” The speaker’s face had flushed,
her eyes had begun to sparkle. '
“Then it’s a bargain,” Gray declared, gay
ly. “Why, you’ll get rich, for it is a chance I
of a lifetime. I'll guarantee patronage; I’ll
drum up trade if I have to turn sandwich i
man and ring a bell. Leave the details to
me.”
Margie Fulton sank slowly into the near- ■
est chair, regardless of the fa<;t that it was i
piled full of lacy, white, expensive things; !
her voice quavered, broke, <is she said: “Gee, ■
Mr. Gray! I figured there must be ilome I
decent men in .the world, but—l never
thought I’d meet one.”
Continued Tuesday. Renew your subscrip
tion now so as not to miss an installment of
this splendid story.
MUSINGS OF ABE MARTIN
By th’ time th’ average father gives away
th’ bride he ha’int got nothin’ else to give.
If th’ meek do ever inherit th’ earth some
one ’ll git it away from ’em before they have
it an. hour. 4
SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 21, 1023-
Nearly fifty years ago I was driving along
the big road, going to Cartersville, when I
saw a crowd of people rushing into a neigh
bor’s house. A little boy, less than ten, had
found a pistol on a dresser and had pointed
it playfully at the face of a three-year-old
brother. It was loaded, and the child’s face
was black with powder burns, and the bul
let had gone into the forehead of the three
year-old and he was dead when I saw him.
Nobody expected those kids to hunt' up a
pistol, but the older child was keen for a
pistol experience, never dreaming tor an in
stant that it wbuld- kill the baby brother.
I saw a little boy, less than three, sport
ing a gun last week. He said, “Shoot you,”
and I said to myself, “You are early in be
ginning, but I can foresee what that child
will desire in his late years.” i
Pistols are handy in mad dag scares, and
perhaps needful in burglar episodes, but pis
tols' like arsenic, should be labeled “dan
gerous,” and kept strictly under lock and
key—never allowed to be handled by young
people.
THE RIGHT AGE FOR WOMEN TO MARRY
THE celebrities who are writing about
the proper age for women to marry
surely have sense enough to know that
women will marry when they become im
pressed with the fact that the men they love
have a good deal to do in deciding this
question for them. t
It will always be a mooted* question as to
when the girl is of the proper age as to assum
ing the duties and responsibilities of mother
hood, as a sequence to matrimony.
Nobody will question the necessity for suf
ficient maturity, especially physical maturity,
in the married woman as the prospective
mother. In my early girlhood I was quite
well acquainted with a lady who married at
twelve years of age, who lived and died a
very respectable person, a good wife and
the mother of six or seven children (maybe
more), well formed and intelligent children/
She had particular charm for her beauty, and
bore herself well in the circle of society, in
which she moved. How she secured her edu
cation I do not know, but there seemed to
be nothing lacking, so far as outsiders could
determine. Education in those early times
for women was not stressed, as a rule.
I was several years younger than this
good wife and mother, and I knew a good
deal of her, as a matron, as the wife and
mother and very little of her girlhood days.
What will these modern commentators say
of such as she, who was barely twelve when
she was married to a man much older, than
herself and who provided her well with lux
uries, servants, good clothep, etc., etc.?
I have know old maids .wjjo married at
forty, or thereabouts, who were not particu
larly happy ever afterwards. They had had
full time for consideration and the qualifica
tions of their mates, but they did not present
themselves as the fortunate few above their
neighbors.
Somebody has written, “Marriage is a lot
tery;” another, that “marriages are made in
heaven;” again, “she made her bed, she
has to lie on it.”
In the wind up we will discover that men
are great on persuasion and promises during
their courtship, and generally very masterful
as to their likes and dislikes after wedding.
The duty of mothers, as I see it, lies in their
duty to advise the daughters, according to
her own experience, and if she does not take
the advice, let it go at that, and thus allow
the girl to take a choice for herself, which
is about what she will do if she listens to
the man who wants her bad enough to beg
her to marry him.
i ly as he gazed on his well-filled glass.
“Makes me think of happy days,” he said,
as with one practiced gulp he downed the
drink.
“Henry,” he remarked aft.r a minute or
so’, “maybe I exaggerated a little bit awhile
ago. The trouble with me is I’ve been
! brooding so much that I get downright
melancholic sometiifies. Now, of course, my
wife is puny bilt then it begins to look like
she might get better before long.”
He held out his glass to be replenished.
The second sample put a sparkle into his
dulled He continued:
“She’s been taking some medicine lately
that seemed 1 to help her a right smart. And,
when I come to think cbout- it, I ain’t so
sorry I busted, up in business. I never did
care much for the line I was in and being
out of it has sort of given me, a chance to
look around. Probably next time I get a
fresh start I won’t make any mistakes. And
you know yourself how young ones are—-
both of my boys are liable to come out of
the kinks before you knovj it. If you see iny
brother Jake when you get back home you
tell him that you saw Jim out"* here and that
Jim is getting along about as well as could
be expected.”
Half an hour passed. The bottla was al
most half emptied. With an effort the ex
patriot raised himself to his feet. His eyes
gleamed, his face glowed; he expanded his
chest and reared back on his heels with his
■ hands under hiscoat tails.
“Henry,” he said, somewhat thickly,
“when you see Jake you just him that
if he needs any money or anything, atl in
I the world he’s got to do is just to on
| me!”
I (Copyright, 1923.)
QUIZ
Any Tri-Weekly Journal reader can
get 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.
.)- _ . e
I Q. Why are white potatoes called Irish po
; tatoes when they are not native to Ireland?
I M. T.
I A. They are so called because of their
general cultivation and use in Ireland.
Q. Is Sir Robert Scott’s “Discovery” still
i afloat? V. E. B.
A. The Falkland Islands government has
just purchased the “Discovery” and will use
’ her for research work in South Georgian
I seas. At present the ship is being recondi
tioned in Portsmouth.
Q. How much land in Alaska is suitable
for grazing reindeer? K. O.
A. It is estimated that more than 200,000
square miles of this not suitable
; for farming or other animal raising, can be
used for reindeer grazing. This vast area
would afford pasture for millions of reindeer.
Q. Why is water carried, in the Indian
army, in leather bags made of goatskin?
R. A. G.
A. This variety of leather is used to ac
commodate the Mohammedans, who could
not drink from a bag made of pigskin, and
the Hindus, who would be unable to drink
from one of calfskin.
Q. What is meant by the Socratic method
of reasoning? N. U. R.
A. This term applies to the method- in
argumentation of asking questions in an
swering which the adversary unconsciously
makes fatal admissions. It is so called be
cause it was much resorted to by Socrates.
Q. When and by whom were pearl neck
laces first worn: W. E. W.
A. Pearls were known to the ancients and
. used by them for personal adornment. It is
1 probable that they wore pearl necklaces. It
HER MONEY <
BY CAROLYN BEECHER
What has gone before.—Althea Gros- J
by, an old maid, dying in loneliness and
ibvelessness, leaves her fortune to her
niece and- namesake on condition that
the girl marry before she is 35. Al
thea falls in love with handsome young ,
Dr. Teter Graham, blit does not tell him, J
about the strange condition in the will.
Eventually he learns of it and assumes
she married him in order to get posses- ’
sion of the fortune. He becomes cool
and she assumes he married her for her
money. She becomes jealous of her hus
band’s attentions to Mrs. Ruth Williams,-
a wealthy patient whom he desires to
please for business reasons. She meets
Kenneth Moore at a party and his gay
ety attracts her.—Now go on with the
story. ,
CHAPTER XXII
KENNETH MOORE had called and had
had tea with Althea. Peter was out
and they chatted pleasantly for an
hour. He came often, nearly always at the
tea hour, usually finding her alone or sur
rounded by her women friends. He had
found Peter there but once. Peter had re
ceived him in friendly fashion, apologizing
for being so busy that he had little time \for
social amenities.
Nell Larigford teased Althea unmercifully.
“He’s falling in love with you, Althea,”
i she warned.
A dim warning had begun to sound within
her when she was with Moore, a vagufe feel
ing of alfirm was awakening, but as yet she
had not heeded its meaning.
“Who is falling in love?” she asked, trying
to laugh. •
“It’s what’s happening to Ken Moore. You
admire him, too. He interests you. "Watch
out, your fingers will get burned.”
“I do admire Mr. Moore immensely. He
is very handsome, very gay. I like to look
at him, be with him. But that’s not.loving
him.”
I That very night Peter also spoke of Moore,
“He conies often,” he said.
“Yes what of it?” Althea queried, at
once on the defensive.
“Nothing—much. But I thought———
“Why shouldn’t I let him come? We have
not made a, particula’r success of our lives
together, have we? We don t seem paitic
ularly happy. Perhaps it has all been a
mistake.”
There was a long pause. Althea was not
looking at Peter or she would have seen a
'set look on his face, a redness grow about
his eyelids.
“What do you mean —4 don’t quite under
stand,” he finally said. 1
“I mean that I don’t care,” responded-Al
thea passionately. “I want some one to be
nice to me, act as if I meant something to
them. Our being together seems to have
been a muddle from the beginning.” x
The silence came down again between them
like a pall and there seemed to be no desire
on the part of either to break it. Half an
hour went by, then Peter rose.
“It’s late. 1 think I will go to bed,” he said
heavily. “Good night.”
“Good nifcht,” Althea replied without mov
ing. and he went to his own room.
Filled with a rage of passionate feelings,
Althea sat crouched in her chair. She felt a
sensation of pain all through her. She had
not meant to say what she did, yet he had
not seemed to care, to ’ ? surprised. He
wasn’t even jealous.
She went to her room and prepaed for bed.
As on so many other nights she lay sleepless,
longing for his love, for tenderness. But
never before, it seemed to her, had she longed
so poignantly.
She thought of Moore, of his glances of ad
miration. She rose, lighted the bulb over
her dressing table ‘and studied herself, her
features. She coulfl discover nothing with
which to find fault. She had youth, health,
a certain beauty of feature and expression.
Why couldn’t Peter admire her as Moore
evidently' did? A sudden pang went through
her. It was too late —Peter’s admiration wa»
given to others —Mrs? Williams! Why
shouldn’t she take a little pleasure with
Moore? Have a few gay hours/to enliven her
arid life?
In those moments before the mirror a
great resentment against Peter filled her
heart. For three years she had been beside
him, hungering for his love, striving 'to earn
it, and for three years she had met with no
return.
“All I care about is living -with some one
who cares about me!” she muttered, to her
reflection, knowing she lied. Then: ,“I
don’4. want anyone but you, Peter! I don't.”
When again she sought her bed tears'wet
her pillow.
In their daily life together Peter was ex
ceedingly kind and gentle in manner, always
scrupulously polite. He possessed an innate
gentle breeding that never failed him.
In the morning his manner was unchanged,
but for the entire night he had felt a cold,
black terror about him, an icy paralyzing
dread that he had lost her, irretrievably
lost her.
He asked no questions—he was afraid. He
knew nothing of her views, hhr intentions.
Was she fond of Moore? Never would he let
her go from him—never-- —never.
His disturbing thoughts lent an unusual
harshness to his face- When he spoke his
voice was low but almost strident in the ef
fort to hide his feelings. A vague sense of
humiliation weighed upon him. Until they
met Moore no thought of another man had
entered his mind. Now he was perplexed,
frightened.
His life now seemed worthless without
her. Nothing invited him, pleased him. Hia
success as a physician, his love for his pro
fession, fell far into the background. He felt
that her companionship in his life, even with
out her love, gave it something he never
coifld find elsewhere. But when he arose
from the table he left her as usual with a .
simple “Good-bye, fpr the present, Althea,”-
to which she, as usual, responded, “Good
bye.”
Continued Tuesday. Renew your sub
scription now so as not to miss a chapter of
this absorbing story. x
is not definitely known just who was the first
person to wear one. Marco Polo, the fa
mous traveler of the Middle Ages, describes
the King of Malabar as wearing around his
neck a necklace made of 104 large pearls
and rubies.
Q. Are most of the famous Americans “self
made?” D. R.
A. Publishers of “Who’s Who in Ameri
ca” say that at least 50 per cent of those
whose names appear iy> Who’s Who have
had at least part of a c6S®ge education, and
79 per cent have had a high school educa
tion.
Q. What is the railroad mileage of the
world? C. A. »
A. The railroads of the world total ap
proximately 702,269 miles.
Q. Which of our well-known moving pic
ture actors are from the British Isles? B. I,:
A. The following are some of the well
known moving picture actors who were born
in the British Isles: Spottiswoode Aitken,
Edinburgh, Scotland; Tom Moore and Owen
Moore, Ireland; William Desmond, Dublin;
T. Roy Barnes, Lincoln, England, and George
Arliss, Lionel Atwell, Alexander B. Francis,
William T. Carleton, all of London, England,