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THE TRI-WEEKLY JOURNAL
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A BIBLE THOUGHT FOR TODAY
Then stood there up one in the council,
named Gamaliel, a doctor of
the law, had in reputation among all the
people, and commanded to put the apostles
forth a little space; and said unto them:
“Ye men of Israel, take heed to yourselves
what ye do as touching these men. For
before these days rose up Theudas, boast
ing himself to be somebody; to ivhom a
number of men, about four hundred, joined
themselves; who was slain; and all, as
many ,as obeyed him, ivere scattered and
brought to naught. And after this man,
rose up* Judas of Galilee in the days of
the taxing, and drew away much people
after him; he also perished; and all, even
Us many as obeyed him, ‘were dispersed, i
And now I say unto you, Refrain from
these men and let them alone; for if this
counsel or this work be of men, it will
come to naught; but if it be pf God ye
cannot overthrow it, lest haply ye be found
even to fight against God.”—The Acts
5:35-39.
'Just Among Ourselves
HERE is a letter from one of our sub
scribers which merits careful atten
tion. Readmit and ponder over it:
PAfter reading your editorial in The Jour
nal of November 13, 'Just Among Our
selves,’ I decided I would write you and
explain just why I sold my cotton, and I feel
confident that there are many other farmers
who sold for the same reason that I did, in
stead of because they'could not foretell the
market.
"In these days of hard times and boll
weevils the farmer has certainly got to hus
tle. AndVhen he needs help from his bank
er, grocer or what not, he is asked to make
his notes or other obligations mature early.
* Even some guano men ask for notes matur
ing in September. Therefore, when the farm
’ er begins to gather his cotton all his cred
v iters are ‘down on him’ at once, clamoring
for their money. Each seems to think that
unless he gets ‘his’ first there won’t be any
"I was ‘dunned’ twice for my guano ac
count before I picked my cotton. Banks do
not like to carry past due paper. Therefore,
you see, the only course I saw open for me-;
that is one that would settle my obligations
I consider a sacred pledge—>was to
sell niy cotton and pay up. I believe the
hardest proposition an honest man has to
face is to be unable to meet an obligation
*-■ when asked to do so.
/’However, there is quite a ‘guess’ as to
whether the price of cotton will go up or
down. I’ve been in the farming game twen
ty years and on an average have lost more
holding cotton than selling early.
. "If you care to publish this letter you
may do so.
"With befct wishes, to you apd The Jour
nal, I am, .
"Your respectfully,
"A. V. SMITH.
"Manassas, Ga."
There doubtless are thousands of farmers
in Georgia who are in the fix of Brother
Smith. ,
Yet how can they hope to get ahead if
they have to sell their cotton for 25 cents,
and three months later it is worth 35 cents?
The Georgia Cotton Growers’ Co-operative
association is formed to help just such farm
ers as Mr. Smith. It will take care of crop
mortgages in all cases where the banks, fer
tilizer people and supply merchants have any
feeling for the farmer or any desire to help
their customers. It will protect these cred
itors and will also protect the farmer.
We are glad to be able to say that the
I great majority of the bankers, merchants and
fertilizer people in Georgia realize that the
cotton association is helping them by helping
their customers, and cheerfully co-operate
with the association in every way.
They saw last year that while thousands of
1.1 I. J UivEaLV JOLA lAL
their unorganized customers sold their cotton
for 20 and 22 cents (SIOO to sllO a bale)
those of their customers who sold through
the association got 26 cents ($l3O a bale)
and were therefore able to buy more and
pay their accounts promptly this year. The
association therefore helped them as well as
their customers who were members'.
This year they have seen thousands of
their unorganized farmers sell their cotton
for 24 to 26 cents ($l2O to $l3O a bale)
and today cotton is worth 35 cents ($175 a
bale). They know that those who were
forced to sell at the lower prieps cannot be
as good customers as those who will get over
30 cents.
When a member ships his cotton to the
association he immediately gets an advance
payment of 20 cents a pound (SIOO a bVile).
If this won’t meet the pressing debts of a
farmer, there are banks a'll over the state
which will lend an additional amount at rea
sonable rate of interest, and will collect
from the association when further payments
are made. f
We do not know what bank you deal with.
We have no hesitation in saying, however,
that if your bank is handled intelligently
and for the welfare, of its customers as well
as for its owners you will have no trouble in
arranging for close and helpful co-operation
with your interests, its interests and the in
terests of the cotton association.
This is true of practically every banking
point in the state. You farmers who want to
join the co-operative association but do not
understand how you can do it and at the
same time protect the interests of your cred
itors, write a plain statement of the facts to
President J. E. Conwell, Georgia Cotton
Growers’ Co-operative association, Atlanta.
Ga. He will tell you how things can be ar
ranged.
You will find Mr. Conwell sympathetic
and helpful in a practical way. He is a
farmer, and made a success of farming. He
was for years a director of a country bank,
and he made a success of his banking inter
ests. He finished the organization work of
rected the management of the association
the Georgia Co-operative association, made a
success of that, and has most successfully di
during the year and a half of its existence.
This, as you will note, is written specially
about the Georgia association, because the
letter was from a Georgia farmer.
There is a co-operative cotton selling asso
ciation in every cotton state. They all seem
to be managed well and to be making big
money for their members. And what we say
to Mr. Smith is applicable to the farmers of
every Southern state.
Brother Smith seems to be under one mis
conception about the co-operatives. They are
not "holding” i associations. They are “sell
ing” associations, but they sell gradually and
in orderly fashion, in accord with the supply
and the demand. Their method of selling
will give their members, not* the highest
price of the year (nobody knows till the year
is over what is, or was, the highest price,
therefore nobody can hope to sell all his cot
ton at the highest price), but it will give a
price that is better than the average price
for the ■ _
That, of course, means millions of dollars
more to the Southern farifiers than they
could have got otherwise..
It was the cotton merchants and specula
tors who bought from the farmer and sold
on a rising market that used tq get all the
millions. The farmers who are association
members are getting many of them now.
Wouldn’t The Journal make a
fine Christmas present for some beloved rel
ative or friend?
Send us $1 for a yearly subscription and
we will write to the person whom you wish
to have it sent to, and tell him or her it is a
Christmas present from you.
It 'will be a three-times-a-week reminder
of your love.
MY FAVORITE STORIES
By Irvin S. Cobb
Altogether, I figure I must have heard a
dozen separate renditions of this ancient
classic. Nearly every state in the southwest
has its own way of telling it, differing more
or less from all the other ways. However/ 1
the version I like best is the Arizona ver
sion.
As this one runs, the thing befell in the
old territorial days when the country was
cruder than it is now. It seems there was
a Mexican sheepherder who committed a
cold-blooded assassination. Even law-abiding
sheepherders were none too popular back in
those times, and this particular sheepherder
immediately became the object of an intense
and general aversion on (he part of the
citizenry. He was pursued, captured, lodged
in jail, and in due time having been indicted,
was brought up for trial before a certain
judge.
The jury heard the evidence and the
speeches, then retired and within an hour
came in with a verdict of murder in the first
degree. But, sh*ort as the time of their de
liberation was, his honor had not wasted it.
During the recess he retired to his private
chambers, where he had consumed the better
part of a quart of prime Kentucky whisky.
M hen he returned to the bench to hear the
jurors’ findings and pass sentence, he was
in a weaving way. He slimped down in his
chair and when the foreman had announced
the result just arrived at in the jury room,
he with difficulty focused a wavering eye
upon the convicted malefactor and in a thick
and hiccoughy tone gave the order:
“Jose Manuel Miguel Xavier
stand up!”
The prisoner rose in his place.
“Jose Manuel Miguel Xavier Gonzales”
said his honor, “in but a few short months
it will be spring. The snows of winter'will
flee away, the ice will vanish and the air
will become soft and balmy. In short, Jose
Manuel Miguel Xavier Gonzales, the annual
miracle of the year’s reawakening will come
to pass.
“The rivulet will run its purling course to
the sea. The timid desert flowers will put
forth their tender shoots. The glorious val
leys of this imperial domain will blossom as
the rose. From every tree-top some wild
woods songster -Will carol his mating song.
Butterflies will sport in the sunshine and the
busy bee will hum happily as it pursues its
accustomed avocation. The gentle breezes
will tease the tassels of the wild grasses.
And all nature, Jose Manuel Miguel Xavier
Gonzales, will be glad.
“But you—you yellow-bellied Mexican son
of a gun—you won’t be here to see it, be
cause you’re going to be hung four weeks
from this coming Friday.”
FLOWING GOLD
BY REX BEACH
CHAPTER XXIII —Continued
BELL NELSON was even more
at the prospect than was his son, for
upon him fell the necessity of raising
the money. “Hell of a note,” the old fellow
grumbled, “when a wet well puts a crimp
in us! A little more good luck like this and
we’ll go broke.”
“We can't afford to let go, or to sub
lease ”
‘s)f course not, after the stand we’ve
taken. 'There’s talk on the street about the
bank, now, and —I’d give a good deal to
know where it comes from.” The junior
Nelson had heard similar echoes, but he held
his tongjie. “I never did like your way.of
doing business/’ the speaker resumed, fret
fully. “We’ve overreached. You wanted it
all and—this is the result.”
Now Henry Nelson was warranted In re
senting this accusation, for it had ever been
Bell’s way to pursue a grasping policy, there
fore he cried, angrily: v
“That’s right; pass the buck. You know
you wouldn’t listen to anything else. If
we’re in deep, you’re more to blame than I.’<
“Nothing of the sort.” Old Bell began a
profane denial, but the younger man broke
in, irritably:
“I’ve never won an argument, with y>pu,
so have it your own way. But while you’re
raising -money for the'Avenger offsets, you’d
better raise plenty, for Gray is going to
punch holes as fast as ever he can.”
“Who is this Gray? What’s he got against
you?”
“We didn’t get along very well in France.”
“Humph! I suppose that means you
fought like hell. And now he’s getting even.
By the way, where am I going Ao get this
money?”
“That is up to you,” said Henry, 'with a
disagreeable grin, whereupon his father
stamped into his own office in a fine fury.
Not long after this father and son 'quar
reled again, for of a sudden a perfect ava
lanche of lawsuits was released, the mys
terious origin and purpose of which com
pletely mystified Old Bell. The Nelsons, like
everybody else, had unsuccessfully dabbled
in oil stocks and drilling companies for some
time before the boom started, also during its
early stages, and most of those failures had
been forgotten. They were painfully brought
to mind, however, when Henry was served
with a dozen or more citations, and when in
quiry elicited the reluctant admission from
the bank’s attorney that a genuine liability
existed—a liability which included the entire
debts of those defunct joint-stock associa
tions in which he and his father had in
vested. This was enough to enrage a saint.
Henry argued that he had invariably
signed those articles of association with the
words, in parenthesis, “No personal liabili
ty,” and he was genuinely amazed to learn
that this precaution had been useless.
The driller he had sent up to Arkansas in
charge of his rig one day came into the of
fice in great agitation. The man’s story
caused his employer’s face to whiten.
“Salted! I don’t believe it.” Nelson seized
his head in his hands. “Oh, my God!” he
gasped. Misfortunes were coming with a
swiftness incredible. Salted! Victimised,
like the greenest tenderfoot! A small for
tune sunk while the whole country was still
chuckling over the Jackson scahdal! This
was a nightmare.
Henry was glad that his father was in
Tulsa in conference with some other bankers
over that Avenger offset money, otherwise
there was no telling to what extreme the old
man’s rage would have carried him at this
final calamity. And that whining, coughing
crook, that bogus farmer, was in Arizona —•
or elsewhere —out of reach of the law!
“Does anybody know?”. Henry inquired,
after he had somewhat recovered his equi
librium.
/‘Nobody but us fellows.”
“You —you mustn’t shut down. You’ve got
to keep up the bluff until —until I get time
to turn.”
“You going to bump off that land to some
body else?”
“What do you think I'm going to do?”
Nelson was on his feet now and pacing his
office with jerky strides.
“Well- —it’s worth something to turn a
trick like this.”
“How much?”
Bu.t the field man merely smiled and
shrugged, so, with a grunt of understand
ing, Henry seated himself and wrote out
a check to bearer, the amount of which
caused him to grind his teeth.
Now it was impossible to dispose of a
large holding like that Arkansas tract at
a moment’s notice. - In order to evade
suspicion, it was necessary to go about it
slowly, tactfully, hence the financier mov
ed with as much circumspection as possi
ble. His careful plans exploded, however,
when he met Calvin Gray a day or so
later.
Gray had made it an invariable practice
to speak affably to his enemy in passing,
mainly because it so angered the latter;
this time he insisted upon stopping.
“So your luck has changed; hasn’t it?
That Avenger well of mine has put a good
value on your property. I congratulate
you, colonel.”
“Humph! I don’t believe in luck,’ Nel
son mumbled. “And the Avenger isn’t
enough of a well to brag about.”
“So? You. don’t believe in luck? It seems
to be our lot invariably to differ, doesn’t
it? Now, my dear colonel, I’m not asham-..
ed to confess that I am deeply superstitu
ous, and.that I believe implicitly in signs
and prodigies. You see, I was born under
a happy star; ‘at 4fny nativity the front
of heaven was full, of fiery shapes,’ as it
wqre. Comfortable feeling, I assure you.
Take that incident at Newtown, not long
ago; doesn’t that prove my
“What incident?”
Gray’s brows lifted whimsically. "Os
course. How should you know? There
was a clumsy attempt to do me bodily
harm, to —assassinate me. Funny, isn’t it?
So ill considered and so impracticable. But
about this Avenger maker, if you find it
inconvenient to \offset my wells as fast
as I put. them down, perhaps you’d con
sider selling ”
“Inconvenient?” Nelson felt the blood
rush to his face at this insufferable insult,
but he calmed himself with the thought
that his opponent was deliberately goading
him. After all it served him right for per
mitting the fellow to stop him. “Incon
venient! Ha!” He turned away carelessly.
. “No offense, my dear colonel. I thought,
after your Arkansas fiasco, you might
wish ” ’ — ■
“What Arkansas fiasco?” Nelson wheeled,
and in spite of himself his voice cracked.
“Ah! Another secret, eh?” Gray winked
elaborately—nothing could have been more
offensive than that counter
feit of a friendly understanding. “Very
well. I shan’t say a word.”
Without another word the banker passed
on, but he went blindly, for his mind was
in black chaos. No chance now for secrecy;
he was in for a bit of hell.
He managed to kill the story in the local
papers, but it appeared in the Dallas jour
nals, which was even worse, and for the
first time in his life he found himself
an object of ridicule.
Nelson, senior, returned from Tulsa 'bull
mad, and he came without the money he
had expected to get. What went on in his
office that morning after he sent for his
son none of the bank’s employes ever
knew, but they could guess, for the rum
blings of the old man’s rage penetrated
even the mahogany-paneled walls.
Continued Saturday. Renew now so as
not to miss an installment of this thrilling
story.
THE MAD'PURSUIT OF PLEASURE
PHILOSOPHERS and seers of all ages,
both inspired and uninspired, have
perceived the peril and condemned the
habits of lives devoted to the pursuit of pleas
ure. f
The Holy Scriptures especially abound in
such warnings and denunciations-.
It is said in the book of Proverbs, “He
that love*th pleasure shall be a poor man.”
(Proverbs xxi:l7.)
In the parable of the Sower “the pleas
ures of this life” are enumerated among the
thorns which infest the human heart and
choke the good seed of the kingdom, so that
all spiritual fruitfulness is forestalled. (Luke
viii: 14.)
St. Paul declared that “she that liveth in
pleasure is dead while she liveth.” (I Tim
othy v:6.) Again the great Apostle, pointkig
out the various types of bad men who pro
duce '“perilous times,” denounces among
them those who are “lovers of pleasures
more than lovers of God.” (II Timothy
iii: 4.)
St. James, St. Peter and St. John utter
strong words to the same purpose.
The sacred writers in all these passages
are not enunciating the principles of a som
ber Puritanism, but declaring the fundamen
tal truth of Christianity. At the very center
of the Christian religion is the law of self
denial; and if self-denial be the law of life,
self-indulgence must be the way to death.
And so it is.
The disposition to pursue pleasure relaxes
all the moral fibers of character and destroys
the capacity for self-sacrifice. This fact ex
plains the death of men and nations by lux
ury. Their self-indulgence suffocates every
heroic element in their nations and makes
them unable to resist any formidable evil or
support any imperiled good. They become ut
terly incapacitated for doing or suffering,any
thing which gives them discomfort or inter
feres with their self-gratifications.
Such was the case with the Roman Com
monwealth of ancient times. The people be
came pleasure-mad', so that they were inca
pable of resisting the assaults of the hardy
barbarians from the north. Amid all the suf
fering around them and In sight of the im
pending ruin before them they could not for
sake their destructive diversions and absorb
ing amusements. Hence, the bitter epigram
of Salvian, “the empire laughs while it is dy
ing”" (“ridet et roritur”). There was a direct
connection of the fall of the state with the
folly of the people. The pampered populace
was prepared for their subjection to tyranni
cal rulers by their consuming- interest in
sports. The unscrupulous men in power found
it to be greatly for their interest to keep the
peoples diverted, “Bread and Games,” was
the cry, and so long as Rome had enough to
eat and was amused, the Emperor might,
without fear, do what he pleased. The more
political, life decayed the greater the place
occupied by
The mania for amusement not only drew
away the attention of the people from their
duties as citizens and diverted their thoughts
from all other serious matters, but it tended
also to make their amusements more sensual
and demoralizing. This was the natural and
inevitable result. Pleasure-loving never fails
to run downward, and it reaches the basest
levels at the last. It is born of selfishness,
and lives under the law of degeneration. Its
diversions for today are too tame for tomor
row and daily they must become more and
more piquant and exciting. Hdnce the better
forms of the drama quickly passed among
the Romans and low comedy, with grotesque
drollery and coarse jokes, took its place. Buf
fooner and pantomimes became overwhelm
ingly .popular. The lofty deeds of heroes were
no longer held up for imitation in the plays
of the theaters, but the adventures of de
ceived husbands, adulteries and amorous in
trigues formed the staple of the plots. Vir
tue was derided, and everything sacred and
worthy of admiration was dragged in the
mire of cynical sensualism. Everything akin
to art was left out of account, and every
thing exhibited was designated for sensual
gratification.
And sensualism drew after it heartlessness
and cruelty,-as it- always does; for it cheap
ens human life until its pains are lightly re
garded and its most tragic conditions are ob
jects of mirth. Following the licentious spec
tacles in Rome came the bloody gladiatorial
shows.
Are not the American people moving on
the same down-grade over which the Roman
commonwealth ran to its ruin? Let no one
dismiss the question with a sneering nega
tive and go off into an irrelevant denuncia
tion of pessimism. Facts are not matters of
pessimism or optimism; they are hard reali
ties which be faced honestly and han-
FOR HEALTHIER HEARTS
By H. Addington Bruce
YOU complain of sleeping badly, of wak
ing with a tired feeling, of a tendency
to be irritable without reason, and,
above all, of finding no re'l joy in life.
Yet your doctoi - has been unable to trace
this to any condition of bodily ill-health.
Even after using sundj-y ingenious devices
to study the workings of internal organs, he
has pronounced you physically sound. Still
further to perplex him, he has your assurance
that you are careful in such matters as diet,
exercise, and the proper ventilation of home
and working-place. . ,
One important thing, however, you have
failed to tell him, doubtless because it did
not seem to you to have any bearing on your
case.
You did not tell him that, from time to
■time you rise in the morning until you re
tire late at night, you are perpetually on the
go. Your days and your are crowd
ed with engagements, you shift back and
forth between the routine of your work and
a kaleidoscopic succession of leisure activi
ties which, however pleasurable you find
them, give you not a moment of reposeful
relaxation. ,
Your management of your life, in fact, is
precisely that characterized by one’ shrewd
observer in these vivid words:
“Great as is man’s capacity for complex
adjustments, the multiplying demands of
modern life are coming too fast. We live as
travelers on a limited train. Farmers, homes,
villages, cities, rivers, mountains whirl by.
There is no time to note or know any of
them. Stops are few, and those only in the
midst of rush, turmoil, and bustle.
“Modern living is high living, with increas
ingly less time for deliberation and contem
plation. It is so cluttered with external in
terests with their insatiable demands that
the study, or even the recognition, of life’s
fundamentals is becoming a lost art to the
average man.”
That, in all probability, is what is the mat
ter with you—and all that is the matter with
you. You have surrendered to the spirit of
the times and allowed yourself to live too
strenuously.
As a result you are nervously fatigued.
The symptoms of which you complain are.
one and all, symptoms of nervous exhaustion.
If you want to rid yourself of them you must
find away to ease down.
You can not ease down in your work, you
say. Well, at least you can ease down in
your play. You really do not need to go
somewhere every evening to find diversion,
OLD-TIME RELIGION,
BY BISHOP IV. A. CANDLER
THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 29, 1923.
died according to their nature. <
And this is a Tact: The American people
are obsessed with a mania for amusement
pleasure-seeking as pronounced as that
which was prevalent among the Romans in
the period immediately preceding the decline
and fall of the Roman government. The vast
sums expended by our people on cheap,
shoddy, and demoralizing spectacles are as
great as the amounts which the Rqman
rulers squandered on similar exhibitions in
their day. What huge expenditures are made
to maintain the debasing “movies!” We.may
judge of this enormous waste by considering
the sums paid the sorry actors who make
the filmsr
Some months ago “The Federal Trade
Commission” was investigating this matter,
and the testimony elicited in the investigation
was amazing. Some of it was reported in a
press dispatch, which was sent out from New
York, and read as follows: ,
1 “Well-knovzn motion picture stars receive
from SIOO,OOO to $350,000 for each picture
they work in, it was revealed Tuesday by
John D. Williams,' organizer of the First Na
tional Exhibitors’ Circuit, Inc., who testified
at the federal trade commission hearing as
to whether the "Famous Players-Lasky cor
poration and its subsidiaries constitute a
trust.
“Williams told of the salaries paid the
stars after challenge of his testimony, that
the Famous Players controlled sixty per cent
of the leading film men and women in 1916.
“Charlie Chaplin, he said, had received
$1,000,000 in 1917 to. produce eight pictures,
while between 1917 and 1918, Mary Pickford
had received $150,000 for each o£ three pic
tures. Norma Talmadge, he said, first re
ceived $160,000 each with a share in the
profits of eight pictures, and later had been
engaged at $350,000 for each of twelve more
pictures.
“Constance Talmadge appeared first in
twelve pictures at SIIO,OOO each and later
had received $150,000 each for a secend
dozen.
“Katherine McDonald had received $600,-
000 for six pictures.”
A few days later came a dispatch from Chi
cago to this effect: /
“Larry Semon, the movie comedian, will
soon be working for $1,000,000 a year.
“A three-year contract for this somewhat
attractive salary was signed here Tuesday
by Semon and M. H.-Hoffman, general man
ager of the Trust Film corporation, i-t was
announced.”
Who pays these enormous salaries? Not
the film corporations, which make immense
profits .on their films. The American people
who patronize the “movies” pay both the
salaries of the players and the profits of the
film corporations. The ancient Romans nevpr
Raid so much, for their shows in their worst
days.
The “movies,” like the Roman comedies,
have driven out any higher type of theatrical
exhibitions. They have debased the drama to
•the lowest possible level, and the products
which come from Hollywood come dripping
with vileness.
Meanwhile, the brutal contests of the
prize ring are patronized at vast cos-t by very
many of the same people who enrich the
“movie” makers. The two brutes, who staged
recently an indecent exhibition of that kind
were paid above $500,000 for pummeling one
ano-ther during the space of less than an
hour. Os course, the money came out of the
pockets of the spectators, together with larg<
er amounts which the promoters of the exhi
bition received.
The two brutfes who engaged in the combit
were not famous as fighters in the World
war when the fate of the human race was at
stake. Oh, no, they and their supporters were
rather slack then.
The “movies” and the prize ring are not
all the forms of paganism which our pleas
ure-mad people are patronizing at great cost.
Sports are costing them billions of dollars
annually while the cries of a broken-hearted
world go unheeded by them.
Worst of all, our devotees of pleasure are
pushing their mad follies into the spheres
of religion and education. They wish the
churches to supply th'em with amusement on
Sunday, and they order musicians and pulpit
actors to suit their taste.
Our schools and colleges, with few excep
tions, are being subjected to the same per
nicious influence. They are called upon to
furnish games, for our pleasure-loving
pagans, and right willingly faculties and
students yield to the demand. This subjection
of educational institutions to the demand of
pleasure-loving gamesters is a debasement
which goes a bow-shot beyond anything re
corded of the pagans of ancient Rome.
Where will it all end? In,utter ruin.
Nothing but a wide-spread revival of re
ligion can avert the destruction to which our
pleasure-mad people are rushing.
QUIPS AND QUIDDITIES
Bert Swop, the minstrel man, uses real life
incidents for the material of" his monologue
acts. He gathers them up in the south dur
ing hi s vacations and on the
stage in the theatrical season.
Here is one which, he tells in black-face
with great effect. He swears it really hap
pened in a small Texas town:
It seems a colored girl was entertaining a
gentleman friend when another suitor for her
favor appeared at the locked front door and
demanded admittance. There was jealousy
in his manner and anger in his voice. Also,
there was a justifiable suspicion on the part
of the occupants of the house that he might
be toting a razor. Anyhow, the newcomer
had a reputation for behaving violently at
times. His rival within doors was of a more
pacific turn of mind.
“Gal,” he said to his hostess. “I ain’t
aimin’ to have no rookus wid dat tough
nigger outside yonder.”
'“You ain’t skeered of'him, is you?” de
manded the lady.
“I ain’t skeered —I’se jest careful, that’s
all. I reckin de best thing fur me to do is
to climb out of one of dese here back windows
and go on ’bout my bizness.”
“You better not do dat,” said the girl.
“Dey’se a dawg in de hack yard.”
“Honey,” quoth the departing one as he
Skinned over the window sill, “de way things
is out front it don’t make no diff’unce to me
es de back yard is upholstered in dawgs.”
nor do you need to stay up late every nigit.
And though you may crave the society of
other people, let me remind you that being
with people constantly may .itself become a
potent cause of nervous fatigue. Give your
self a< least three or four—preferably more
—evenings every week in the quiet of your
family.
If you do not have a family life, learn to
be good conipany for yourself with the aid
of books, music, the enjoyment of art, nature
study, and other auxiliaries for the develop
ing of inner resources. This will profit you
in rnbre ways than one.
Certainly it is not normal to feel as you
do now. It is, in fact, a danger signal warn
ing of breakers ahead’. If the trouble really
is over-strenuosity—and you yourself know
best as to that—act on the warning in time.
Ease down.
(Copyright, 1923,)
HER MONEY
BY CAROLYN BEECHER
What has gone before. —Althea Cros
by, an old maid, dying in loneliness and s
lovelessness, leaves her fortune to her
niece and namesake.on condition that
the girl marry before she is thirty-five.-
Althea falls in love with handsome
young Dr. Peter Graham but does, not
tell him about the strange condition in
the will. Eventually he learns of it
and assumes she married him in order
so get possession of the fortune. He be
comes cool and she assumes he married,
her for her money. She becomes jeal- *
ous of her husband’s attentions to Mrs.
Ruth Williams, a wealthy patient whom
he desires to please for buinsess rea
sons. She meets Kenneth Moore at a
party and his gaiety attracts her.—Now
go on with the story. (
CLEVER, keen, energetic as he was in
everything pertaining to his profession,
Dr. Peter Graham sensed no more than
a baby the love Althea had. for him. Loving
her with all Jjis heart, too proud to force
himself upon her because of his blind belief
that she cared nothing for him, he went his
way, the rift between them growing wider
every day.
Each had an aching hunger impossible to
explain to the other, a hunger that was with,
them constantly. Often during his long, ,
work-filled days did he recall that brief
glimpse of happiness he had in the days:—-
so few—before he knew why she married
him. Often during her idle days did an
agonized longing sweep over her to get away
from the house and walk away from every
thing, seeking she knew now what—peace—- w
contentment.
i Their interests divided, they each lived
mechanically. Perhaps because of the de
mands of his profession, its calls upon his
time and thoughts, Althea with less to oc
cupy her was the more to be pitied. Yet
each suffered in their own way, struggled on
unwilling to give up hope.
Althea took great pains with her toilet.
She knew she was good to look at. But Peter
was now so accustomed to see her looking
well that he seldom spoke of it, seldom com
plimented her, although he longed desper
ately to take her in his arms, to tell her of
his admiration, hik love. But—it might be
disagreeable to her, even his admiration.
Other men admired her, this he saw.
Moore was often with her and Peter woffld
stand in the lower hall a moment before gor
ing out to listen to the sound of her voice,
gay, happy. A tone he never heard when
they were alone.
Mabel Howard, Peter’s office nurse, had
proved singularly efficient, relieving him of
the detail of the office in away that called
forth his admiration, and he so expressed
himself to Althea who had scarcely noticed
her in spite of Peter’s request that she be »
friendly. She had told Peter a little about
herself—a’ widowed mother, a crippled sister,
little money, and how her anxiety to have
comforts for them had driven her to the city.
A common story enough, yet Peter saw the
pathos of it and tried by kindness to make
the girl’s lonely life brighter.
“Why does your wife dislike me, Doctor?”
she asked one day. Althea had come into
the office during Peter’s absence 1 and had
been short and cold when Mabel asked if
there was anything she could do for her. '
“I don’t think she dislikes you. Why
should she? Mrs. Graham is not demonstra
tive, he replied, and the subject dropped.
A few days later Althea again went into the
office during Peter’s absence. The telephone
jingled and she reached for the receiver.
‘‘l’ll answer the call,” she said coldly.’
‘‘But, Mrs. Graham, I am sure the doctor
would want me to,” Mabel replied, taking the
receiver from under her hand. “I shall know
better than you what to say if it is one of
his patients.”
In a burst of savage anger Althea snatched
the instrument from the girl’s hand. J
“Hello,” she said, her voice shaking wi'th
anger.
“No, Doctor Graham is out. Will you leave
a message ?’
Yes. Tell him please to come to Mrs. Wil
liams as soon as he returns.”
Althea n/ade no Answer but as she hung up
the receiver there was a light of something
hard to define in her eyes.
Mabel stood with pencil and pad, her cheeks
flushed, but quite calmly she asked:
If you will repeat tho message, Mrs. Gra
ham, I will write it for the doctor. I may
be gone when he comes in.”
y “!t was nothing—l’ll repeat it to him.”
a •’ Ust what she did not intend to
do The nurse was gone when he came in
i D l Z ner WaS ° vdr " The tele r-’hon O rang,
and Peter answered it,
Are you sure? This afternoon—what time?
over 8 ” 1 forget - ril ! h 0 right
ovei. He hurried out.
M^ R wu/ elt that . the message was again from
iams and was a frightened, yet
le hadke Pt Peter from her for a, while any-
Daj. Upon his return he spoke of his sur
prise that Miss Howard had forgotten to leave
the message for him and Althea said proudly:
I took her message.”
Z 0U ~ and withh eld it? A Sick patient!”
i es. I don’t believe she is sick.”
“Althea, I forbid you to meddle’in my of
fice. He was white with rage, she saw it
was an effort for him to speak calmly “I
hire Miss Howard to take care of things in
my absence. You will please not interfere
again. ’ He went from the room and remained
locked in his office until after she had gone
to bed.
Continued Saturday. Renew your subscrip
tion .no wso as not to miss a chapter of
this absorbing story.
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 directory Washington, D. C., and in
closing a two-cent stamp for return
postage. DO NOT SEND IT TO OUR
ATLANTA OFFICE.
Q. Tell me whether there were any 1804
silver dollars minted? J. L. C.
A. According to the annual report of the
director of the mint there were 321 silver
dollars minted bearing the date of 1804. Con
flicting stories are current respecting this
celebrated dollar. One, that the entire coin- "
age was aboard a.vessel which sunk in the
Mediterranean Se a and the cargo lost. Anoth
er, a doubt that any dollars were struck dur
ing this year, th e belief being that dollars
bearing this date were struck years after,
hence those in e.xistence are “restrikes.” An
other disposes of the question by stating “all
are restrikes or frauds.” J-t is generally be
lieved that not more than a dozen genuine
“restrikes” are in existence. The dies were
destroyed in 1869. The first known specimen,
was sold in Philadelphia, 1907, for*s3,6oo.
Q. I have been told that the smithy in
Longfellow's poem of "The Village Black
smith” is in England, Is this true? L. D. M.
A. Ernest Longfellow, the poet’s son, in
“Random Memories,” says: “A short
ago I saw in an English newspaper that the
‘village smithy’ was in a certain English vil
lage that was named. As a matter of fact, as
everybody knows, it was JBrattie street,
Cambridge, Mass?