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THE TRI WEEKLY JOURNAL
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A BIBLE THOUGHT FOR TODAY
Dominion and fear arc with Him, He
maketh peace in high places. Is there any
number of His armies, and upon whom,
doth not His light rise? He siretcheth out
the north over the empty place, and hang
eth the earth upon nothing. He bindeth
up the ivaters in His thick clouds, and the
cloud is not rent under them. He holdeth
back the face of His throne, and spreadeth
His cloud upon it. The pillars of heaven
tremble and are astonished at his reproof'.
He divideth the sea with His power, and
by His understanding He smiteth through
the proud. By His spirit He hath gar
nished the heavens; his hand hath formed
the crooked serpent. Lo, these are parts'
of His ways, but how little a portion is
heard of Him?—From the
Chapter of Job.
'Just Among Ourselves
THOSE of you who are following the
trials and tribulations of Althea Crosby
and Dr. Peter Graham in the splendid
serial, “Her Money,” now being published
in The Tri-Weekly Journal, were especially
interested, we know, in the news article
in .our last issue about Miss Floria Foy, of
Detroit, who" Was left a fortune by her uncle
with strange provisions in the will.
Miss Foy inherits $500,000 unconditional
ly. She will get another $500,000 if she j
marries before she is 25, and she will get
a final $500,000 if she and her husband!
are living together happily ten years after
their wedding.
This creates an even more remarkable and
complex, situation than that imagined by
Miss Beecher as the basis of her story.
It goes to show once again that fact is often
stranger than fiction.
By the way, if you haven’t been reading
“Her Money,” start it now. The synopsis
will make it possible for you to begin at
any time, and you will find the story well j
worth following.
The news we print brings interesting com
ment from readers. We always are glad to
get them.
J. H. Smith, of Route 3, Washington,
Ga., writes: “I have a violin that beats
Mrs. S. C. Ataway’s in age by 6 5 years.
It was made by Jacobus Steiner in 1665.
It has his name and date on it and name
of place where made. It has the sweetest
and loudest tone I ever heard. My neigh
bors heat it near onto half a mile away.”
For the present we nominate Mr. Smith’s
as the chaniQjon old violin in Georgia.
T. W. Ethridge writes to tell us of a
tremendous hawk his wife killed in the act
of catching a chicken at his home at Union
town, Ala. The hawk was the biggest seen
in that section for twenty years and meas
ured 52 inches from wing to wing. Brother
Ethridge should have told us the details
of the killing—they would have been in
teresting, too.
For the present we nominate Mrs, Eth
ridge as the champion woman at hawk kill
ing,
J. A. Wall, of Route 2, Statham, Ga.,
writes: “In reading over The Tri-Weekly
Journal I saw where a little girl has eleven
grand-parents living. I can equal that.
*‘W. E. Wall and wife had a son who
claimed that many. They were Mr. and
Mrs. J. A. Wall, father and mother of
W. E.; Mr. and Mrs. W. Z. Jones, father
and mother of Mrs. W. E.; J. M. Wall,
father of J. A.; Joe Casper and wife,
father and mother of Mrs. J. A. Wall; W. J.
Jones and wife, father and mother of W.
Z. Jones; W. J. Roberts and wife, father
and mother of Mrs. W. Z. Jones. The boy
was J. W. Wall, and his initials contained
one of each of his grandfathers.”
For the present we nominate J. W. Wall
r.s the champion grandson in Georgia.
We will appreciate it if you who like
The Tri-Weekly Journal will tell your neigh
bors about its good qualities.
W. L. Scott, of Route 2, Lawrenceburg,
Tenn., picked up a scrap of one of our pa
pers in the road, and liked it so well from
that sample that he sent in his subscrip- |
tion for one year.
Robert Mathis, of Van Wyck, S'. C., saw
a sample find subscribed, saying it struck
t
. t i.u i,l Jut •» iAL
him as a very fine paper, and just what
he had been wanting.
Tell your friends, who are not familiar
with it, about The Journal. It. will help
us, and maybe help them.
Our loyal friend, J. V. Talbot, of Route
i 5, Elba, Ala., found a piece of poetry in
i the W. O. W. “Sovereign Visitor” which
j he liked and which he wants to share with
j our readers. He incidentally says “The old
! Tri-Weekly Journal gets better and better.”
Here is the poem that struck his fancy:
GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY?
She stood at the bar of justice,
A creature worn and mild,
In form, too small for a woman,
In feature, too old for a child.
For 'a look so worn and pathetic
Was stamped on her pale young face.
It seemed long years of suffering
Must have left that silent trace.
“Your name?” said the judge, as he eyed her
With kindly look, yet keen.
“Is Mary McGuire, if you please, sir.”
“And your age?” “I am turned fifteen.”
“Well, Mary,” and then from a paper
He slowly and gravely read:
“You are charged here —I’m sorry to say
it—
With stealing three loaves of bread.”
“You look not like an offender,
And I hope that you can show
The charge to be false. Now, tell me,
Are you guilty of this or no?”
A. passionate burst of weeping
Was at first her soft reply,
But she dried her eyes in a moment
And looked in the judge's eye.
“I will tell you how it was, sir:
My father and mother are dead,
And my little brother and sister
Were hungry and asked me for bread.
At first .1 earned it for them
By working hard all day,
But, somehow, times were bad, sir,
And the work all fell away.
"I could get no more employment—
The weather was bitter cold;
The young ones cried and shivered -
(Little Johnny’s but four years old).
So what was I to do, sir?
I am guilty, but do not condemn.
I took —oh, wks it stealing?
The bread, to give to them.”
Every man in the courtroom—
Gray beard and thoughtless youth—
Knew', as he looked upon her,
That the prisoner spoke the truth.
Out from their pockets came handkerchiefs.
Out from their eyes sprung tears;
And out from their old faded wallets
Treasures hoarded for years.
The judge’s face was a study—-
The strangest you ever saw,
As he cleared his throat and murmured
Something about the law.
For one so learned in such matters,
So w r ise in dealing with men,
He seemed, on a simple question,
Sorely puzzled just then.
But no one blamed him or wondered,
. When at last these words he heUrd,
“The sentence jof this young prisoner v
Is, for the present, deferred.”
And no one blamed him or wondered,
When he went to her and smiled,
And tenderly led from the courtroom
Himself the “guilty” child.
—LOTTIE J. ROBERT 0 ,
R. 3, Gloster, Miss.
THOSE TEETH
By H. Addington Bruce
IT may be true —as certain medical men
contend—that there is an over-inclina
tion nowadays to blame the teeth as
causes of general ill-health. But again and
again one comes upon cases that emphasize
the importance of at least taking the teeth
into account when dealing with disease prob
lems that perplex.
Here, for instance, is a case of recent dc
currence, the case of the president of * large
industrial corporation.
This gentleman —let us call him Mr. Jones
. began gradually to develop symptoms of
nervous exhaustion. He had difficulty with
his sleep, with his digestion, even w'th his
mentalpporers.w r ers. He found it a painful effort
to concentrate on routine duties, and as the
days passed he became increasingly fatigued
both in body and mind.
To his business associates and his family
this was a matter more for regret than for
surprise. The corporation of which he was
the head had suffered greatly in the post-war
depression. As a consequence uncommon
burdens had been imposed on the always
hard-working Mr. Jones.
All that he needed, it seemed reasonable
to suppose, was a good rest. The family
physician taking the same view, quarters
were obtained for him in a rural retreat,
where his wife undertook to help nurse him
back to health.
The rest cure benefited him not a whit,
albeit a happy turn in business conditions
had relieved him of all reason for anxiety
on this score. He continued to lose weight
and to grow progressively weaker.
Finally the X-ray w r as brought into play.
At once it revealed that, Although Mr. Jones
had been scrupulously careful regarding den
tal hygiene, abscesses had developed at the
roots of several teeth. Within a week after
the extraction <,f these, marked improvement
in his general condition was apparent. With
in a month he was back at his desk, feeling
quite himself.
Now, conceivably, business anxiety had
been a contributory factor in this case, weak
ening Mr. Jones so as to cause a more se
vere reaction to the poison of the dental
abscesses. But that the latter constituted
the actual cause of his illness cannot well be
questioned in view of the benefit that follow
ed the removal of the diseased teeth. x
And undoubtdly there are many cases of
so-called nervous collapse—as well as of
progressive -weakening, chronic stomach
trouble, and rheumatic ailments—in which
unsuspected infection from the teeth is the
real source of trouble. The course of wis
dofn would seem to be the ordering of an
X-ray dental examination in all obscure mal
adies that may be infectious in origin.
Such an examination will avoid the two
extremes of ignoring the teeth as possible
disease-factors and of ruthlessly extracting
teeth on a vague suspicion that they may be
diseased. Even the finding of abscesses, it
may be addled, may not mean that extraction
is imperatively required.
There is such a thing as treating ab
scessed teeth. The dental expert can deter
mine what is best to be done in any given
| case. Opportunity should at least be accorded
j him, through the X-ray's aid, to advise on
| the course to be followed if dental disease
I actually is present.
1 (Copyright, 1923.)
FLOWING GOLD
BY REX BEACH
CHAPTER XXV
A Lesson in Deportment
GRAY was shocked at the change in
Ma Briskow. She had failed surpris
ingly. Pleasure lit up her face, and
she fell into a brief flutter of delight al
seeing him; but as soon as their first
greeting was over he led her to her
lounge and insisted upon making her com
fortable. He had tricks with cushions and
pillows, so he declared; they became his
obedient servants, and there was a knack
in arranging them —the same knack that
a robin uses in building its nest. This he
demonstrated quite conclusively.
It was nice to have a great, masterful
man like this take charge of one, and Ma
sighed gratefully as she lay back. “It
does' kjnda feel like a bird's nest,” she
declared. “And you kinda look like a robin,
too; you’re alius dressed so neat.”
“Exactly,” he chuckled. “Robins are the
very neatest dressers of all the birds. But
look! Like a real robin, I’ve brought spring
with me.” He opened a huge box of long
stemmed roses and held their cool, dewy
buds against Ma Briskow’s withered face,
then, laughing and chatting, he arranged,
them in vases where she could see them.
Next, he drew down the shades, shutting
out the dreary afternoon, after which he
lit the gas log, and soon the room, whether
by reason of his glowing personality or his
deft rearrangement of its contents, or both,
became a warm and cheerful place.
He had brought other gifts than flowers,
too; thoughtful, expensive things that fairly
took Ma’s breath. No one had ever given
her presents; to be remembered, therefore,
with useless, delightful little luxuries filled
her gentle soul with a guilty rapture.
But these were not gifts in the ordinary
sense; they were offerings from the Duke
of Dallas, and his manner of presenting
them invested every article with ducal dig
nity.
Gray was seated on the side of her couch
with her cold hand betw.een his warm
palms, and he was telling her about the
princess of Wichita Falls when the sum
mons to dinner interrupted them.
Ma was not hungry, and she had ex
pected to have a bite in her own room;
but her caller was so vigorous in his ob
jections to this plan that she finally agreed
to come downstairs. '
The- Briskow household was poorly or
ganized as yet, and it was only natural
that it should function imperfectly; never
theless. Gray was annoyed at the clumsy
manner in which the dinner y?as served.
“See here, Ma!” Gray threw down his
napkin. “You have a beautiful home, and
you want it to be perfect, don’t you?”
“Why, of course. We bought everything
we could buy———”
“Everything except skillful servants, and
they are hard to find. You are capable
of training your cook and teaching your
upstairs girl to sweep ’and make beds; but
the test of a well-run house is a well
served, meal. Now, then, you’re not eating
a bite, anyhow, and Gus won’t mind wait
ing awhile for his dinner. With your per
mission. I'd like to take things in hand
and add a hundred percent to your future
comfort?”
In some bewilderment. Ma agreed that she/
would do anything her guest suggested,
whereupon he rose energetically and called
the three domestics into the dining room.
“We are going to start this dinner all
over again,” he announced, “and we are go
ing to begin by swapping places. lam going
to serve it as a dinner should be served, and
you are going to eat it as— Well, I dare say
nature will have to take its course. Mr. and
Mrs. Briskow are going to look on. After
we have finished you are going to serve us
exactly as I served you.”
Naturally, this proposition amazed the
“help;” in fact, its absurdity convulsed them.
The man laughed loudly; the cook buried
her ebony face in her apron; the second girl
bent double with mirth. But the gentleman
was not joking. On the contrary, he brought
this levity to an abrupt end, then, gravely,
ceremoniously, he seated the trio.
Gray played butler with a correctness and
a poise deeply impressive to his round-eyed
audience.
It was an uncomfortable experience for all
except Gra£ himself —he actually enjoyed it
—and when the last dish had been removed,
and he Trad given instructions to serve the
meal over again exactly as he had served
it, the three negroes were glad to obey.
“You see what a meddlesome busybody I
am,” the guest Iqughed. “I don’t know how
to mind my own business, and the -one luxury
I enjoy most of alT~is regulating other peo
ple’s affairs.” He was still talking, still lec
turing his hearers upon the obligations pros
perity had put upon them, -when he was sum
moned to the telephone by long-distance call.
He returned in some agitation to announce:
“Well, at last I have business -of my own to
attend.”
“Was that Buddy talkin’?”
“It was, and he gave me some good news.
He says that well on thirty-five is liable
to come in any minute, and it looks like a
big one.” The speaker's eyes were glowing,
and he ran on, breathlessly. “He says they’re
betting it will do better than ten thousand
barrels! ”
“Ten thousand bar’ls?” Briskow echoed.
“That’s what he said. Os course, they
can't tell a thing about it. Buddy’s only
guessing, but—l haven’t had a big well yet.”
Gray took a nervous turn about the room.
“I'm going out on tonight’s train and see
it come in—if it comes in. I told Buddy
to stop work; not to drop another tool until
I arrived. ‘Fatted for destruction.’ I like
the sound of that. Ten thousand barrels!
Ho! I'll write this day in brass. Why, that
lease will sell tor a million. It —it may
mean the end.” _
Gray brought himself to with an effort,
hastily he kissed Mrs. Briskow’s faded cheek
and wrung her husband's hand. A moment
later he was gone.
“Thirty-five,” where Buddy was working,
was only a few miles from the Briskow
ranch, therefore the boy was able to meet
his sister at Ranger and drive her directly
to the old home.
The ranch house seemed very mean, very
insignificant to Allie, but she slipped into
one of her old dresses and prepared the sup
per while Buddy straddled a kitchen chair
and chattered upon ten thousand topics of
mutual interest.
On the morning of Gray's coming Allie
rode \with Buddy over to Thirty-five. It was
a ■wretched, rainy day, and nothing ig more
bleak than a rainy day in a drilling camp.
Work had been halted and the men were
loafing in their bunk house. Brother and
sister spent the impatient hours in tne mess
tent.
Gray's trip from the railroad was more
like a voyage than a motor journey, for the
creek beds, usually dry, were angry torrents,
and the dobe fiats were quagmires through
which his vehicle plowed hub deep; never
theless, he was fresh and alert when Ire ar
rived. After a buoyant greeting to Allie, he
and Buddy inspected the well, then he issued
orders for work to be resumed.
Word had gone forth that there was some
thing doing on Thirt-five, and from the chap
arral emerged muddy motor cars bringing
scouts, neighboring lease owners, and even
the members of a near-by casing crew.
Supper wuis a jumpy meal, and nobody
had much to say. Allie Briskow least of all.
She was silent, intense; she curtly refused
Buddy's offer to send her home, and when
the meal was over she followed Gray back to
I the derrick.
i Buddy Briskow was running the rig, and
I the dexterity with which he handled brake
' and control rod gave him pride. He had
OLD-TIME RELIGION
BY BISHOP W. A. CANDLER
A MEDITATION AFTER THANKSGIVING
THE day of annual Thanksgiving has just
passed. The American people have ’
much for which to be grateful to God.
While dire distress has filled other lands,
peace and prosperity have prevailed through
out the United Stales. “He hath not dealt
so with any nation.” (Psalms CXLVII:2O.)
Amidst abounding mercies our people
should not forget that blessings bring duties
and gratitude to God, for His loving kind
, nesses calls for better expression than mere
words. Songs of praise ought to issue in
praiseful service.
■ ! And the American people have opportuni
ties to glorify God by service to mankind
such as no other nation possesses. Their vast
material resources, which almost exceed com
putation, enable them to do whatever money
can do to meet the needs of mankind —and
, consecrated money can do much to relieve
human distress and destitution. It caif feed
the hungry, clothe th© naked, and relieve
other innumerable ills. And it is to the
credit of the American people that they have
expended many millions of dollars for the
relief of the woes of lands beyond the seas.
With promptness and generosity they gave
above ten millions of dollars to stricken
Japan when earthquake, fire and flood had
brought to the Japanese unprecedented disas
ters. In what is called “The Near East”
American relief corps continue to labor, heal
ing the sick, feeding the poor, and nursing
pitiful groups of orphaned children.
But the sorest need of the bruised, broken
and distracted world of today can not be met
by money, or the things which money can
buy.' Its deepest distress arises from its men
tal darkness and moral disorder.
If it were purged of its animosities and
hatreds, cleansed of its immorality and indo
lences, and recovered from its godlinesses, its
restoration in the matters of material pros
perity and of international peace would be
speedy and permanent. But without spirit
ual renovation its physical and political ills
will continue notwithstanding all efforts,
however well intended, which may be made
to heal them.
Treaties can not purify and pacify man
kind. They have no more value than the
moral dependability of those who sign them.
Like promissory notes, they are just as good
as their makers —and no better. The treaty
of Versailles, 'from which for a season the
world hoped much, has been treated already
as “a scrap of paper” by some of the signa
tory powers.
The only force that can meet the need of
the tragic crisis of th© present generation is
that of religious regeneration.
Some seventy years ago, when Chartism in
England was threatening a revolution, and
the international condi’ions and contentions
which issued in the Crimean war were fer
menting, Carlyle wrote these strong words:
“In the days that are passing over us, even
fools are arrested to ask the meaning of
them; few of the generations of men have
seen more impressive days. Days of endless
calamity, disruption, dislocation, confusion
worse confounded. ... It is not a small hope
that will suffice us, the ruin being clearly
■ universal." There must be a new world if
/ there is to be a world at all. . . . These days
I of universal death must be days of universal
i rebirth, if the ruin is not to be total and
final. It is a time to make the dullest man
consider whence he came and whither he is
bound.”
The words of the stern sage of Craigenput-
I toch have been justified by the march of
events since they were uttered. There was
no universal rebirth of the nations then, but
only partial and limited rebirths. By conse
quence" have followed the appalling disasters
of the present day, which have been dimin
ished and mitigated in exact proportion to
the regenerative forces which operated within
comparatively narrow limits. The same old
international ambitions and antipathies have
prevailed. European statesmen, in utter
. faithlessness, have continued to act on the
atheistic assumption that righteousness
among nations is impracticable, and that
wrong and deceit are the reliance of the dip
lomats. Religion on the continent has de
clined to ever lower and lower levels, ration
alism eatipg the heart out of it in central
Europe and ritualism suffocating it in south
ern and eastern Europe. The material pros
perity which lias sprung from modern science
and invention has furnished the material re-
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 rctuiu
postage. DO NOT SEND IT TO Ol R
ATLANTA OFFICE.
Q. Do wild animals live longer in their
wild state than in captivity? G. M.
A Some wifd animals are so fretful in
captivity that their lives are shortened ma
terially. This is true of foxes and monkeys.
Elephants and snakes do not seem to suffer
much from captivity, but are strongly in
clined to long lives in any environment. The
mortality among wild animals in zoological
parks is very high.
Q. In the oft quoted saying of Lincoln,
“All I am I owe to my mother,” was Linco-p
referring to his mother or to his step-moth
er? C. R. A.
A. It is customary to interpret the fa
miliar saying of Abraham Lincoln as apply
ing to his own mother rather than to his
step-mother. The latter was, of course, an
unusual woman, to whom Lincoln owed a
great deal, but his own mother lived long
enough to leave the all-important impress
upon her son.
Q. Which prize fight had the largest at
tendance? G. S. T.
A. The heavyweight Championship fight
which had the largest paid attendance was
the Dempsey-Firpo fight, which 76,000 at
tended. The largest number which has been
known to attend a fight was at the Wijlard-
Firpo fight in Jersey City, -when 100,000
people were present.
seated his sister on a bench out of the way,
where she was protected from the drizzle,
and he felt her eyes upon him. It gave him
a sense of importance to have Allie watching
him at such a crisis; he wished his parents |
were with her.
He eased the brake and the massive bailer
slid into the casing as a heavy shell slips
: into the breech of a cannon. As he further
■ released his pressure, the cable began to
pour serpentlike from the drum. Buddy
turned his wet, grimy face and flashed a i
• grin at Allie. She smiled back at him faint- |
■ ly. Some lightninglike change in her expres-
s sion, or perhaps some occult sense of the |
[ untoward warned him that all was not as:
it should be, and he jerked his head back
■ to attention.
During that moment of inattention the
bailer had stuck. Perhaps five hundred feet
l belotv, friction had checked its plunge, and
meanwhile the velvet-running drum, spinning
r at its maximum velocity by reason of the
. whirling bull wheel, wa§ unreeling its cable
1 down upon the derrick platform. Down it
i poured in giant loops, and within these coils, -
> either unconscious of his danger or paralyzed
by its suddenness, stood Calvin Gray.
I—-1 —--
j Continued Saturday. Renew now so a.s not
1 ; to miss a chapter of this splenditi story. *,
THURSDAY, DECEMBER R, 1923.
sources for executing the godless and heart
less designs which culminated at last in a
world war which has broken the heart of man
kind and made the whole world to mourn.
And yet nothing seems t? have been learned
from all this dreadful harvest of grief and
death. In this same foolhardy forgetfulness
of God and disregard of His law by which
these awful results have been brought'to pass,
th© nations continue. They seem to be ob
sessed with an insane selfishness, a crazy
worldliness, and a mad wickedness. And our
own nation is affected with the mania. The
people out-Neroing Nero fiddle while the
world burns down. Th© mania for sports and
pleasure-seeking, prevalent among us, is
world wide.
In a recent letter to an American paper,
the distinguished writer and scholar, Dr. W.
Fiddian Moulton, of England, discusses the
matter in vigorous style and with just con
demnation. He says:
“Serious-minded people can pot fail to be
disquieted by the appalling homage paid to
sport by the masses of the populace today:
and th© prize ring affords the worst of all
manifestations of it because of its sheer bru
tality. No event in modern life obtains the
publicity which is given to a prize fight, and
nowhere are the money transactions more
grossly out of proportion to the value given.
In Dempsey’s recent fight the purse for each
of the combatants was at least six times the
salary of a prime minister, and the operation
of earnings (?) lasted less than two minutes.
Only during the last few days Carpentier, the
Frenchman, and Beckett had another fight,
and drew over 15,000 spectators to see it.
Some of the seats were priced.at five guineas,
and the whole thing was over in fifteen sec
onds. One feels no grain of pity for those
who get so little for their outlay. It serves
them right, and imany of us feel that, what
ever may be thought as to the result, it is
wholly to the good that the disparity between
cost and value received should be allowed to
operate to the discredit of the whole institu
tion of the prize ring.
“Then there was the shipping of Papyrus,
the derby winner, to the states, under condi
tions which betoken at every turn an alto
gether preposterous conception of the impor
tance of a race horse. The boxer and the
race horse derive their importance from the
same sact —their usefulness as a medium for
the exercise of the betting passion on the part
of the British and American public. Elimi
nate all financial consideration from the mat
ter. and no one would have brought over an
English race horse to compete with American
horses. It is not spdrt, pure and simple, that
is at the ba-ck of racing and prize-fighting; it
is sheer gambling in the one. and mingled
gambling and brutality in the other that
gives them their vogue; and it is no good
talking about stopping such practices by law.
They can only be stopped by changing the dis
positions of those who ask for them.’’
Between such excesses and political condi
tions there is a direct connection. When the
people are absorbed in sports they ignore
public interests and obligations, and become
heartless towards the most melancholy dis
tresses of humanity. They become greedy of
gain in order to gratify their lust for pleas
ure. And tbeir rulers shape policies to ac
qord with the desires of a pleasure-mad
populace.
Dr. Moulton is right, eminently correct,
when he says these perilous evils “can only
be stopped by changing tne dispositions of
those who ask for them,” and that change
can be wrought by no power except the re
generative force of Christianity.
Wherefore, it is clear that the supreme
need of the world is a revival of religion, and
in this return of the nation to God our coun
try ought to lead the way.
While the echoes of our services of na
tional thanksgiving are still lingering in the
Land, let the goodness of God lead our people
to repentance. Let our pagan pleasures and
godless selfishness be put away in the deepest
humiliation and the most pungent penitence.
Hereby, we may save ourselves and help to
save all .
A great revival iq the United States, burn
ing in holy flames from ocean to ocean,
would illumine the whole earth and warm
the heart of mankind with new life and loVe.
“O Lord, revive thy work in the midst of
the years, in the midst of the years make
known; in wrath remember mercy.” (Ha
bakkuk III: 2.)
MY FAVORITE STORIES
By Irvin Cobb
A good many of the stories which pro
fessional guides tell by the camp fire at
night are aimed at the green sportsmen
they have served.
A New Brunswick guide who took me
moose-hunting swore that the following
thing really happened. He said an amateur
gunner strayed away from camp and was
lost for the better part of two days. On the
second afternoon a search party found him.
After the rescued one had been fed and
comforted the chief guide said to him:
“I see you have a compass. Didn’t you
know how to use it?”
“Certainly I knew how to use it,” said
the novice, “but the blamed thing was no
g OO d—it just kept pointing in one direction
all the time. If only it had pointed toward
camp once in a while I could have found my
way back easy enough.”
In New York state another guide told me
that two Swedes who worked in a factory a
few miles away came to the town where he
lived and borrowed from him a dozen wood
en duck decoys, saying they meant to go
shooting on a nearby river where, in season,
wild fowl were fairly abundant. They had
one gun between them, and from the way
it was handled and from other things, he
made up his mind that the pair had not had
a great deal of experience at hunting.
Late in the afternoon he decided to see
how the greenhorns were faring. He swore
to me that when he reached the river he
saw one of the Swedes standing bolt upright
in full view at the water’s edge, holding his
gun ready and with a vigilant eye on the
flocks 'of mallard that scurried past at a
distance, while his companion, in hip boots,
was splashing up and down in the shallows
dragging behind him the decoys tied togeth
er by strings about their necks.
But at least once in my sojourings in tne
woods I found a guide who was willing to
poke fun at his own profession, “I’ve got
a friend over here on Long Lake who fol
lowed guiding for going on twenty years,”
he said. “His name was Faulkner—Gene
Faulkner. But finaly he got tired of the
I game and he took and opened up a grocery
: store in the village. He did pretty well, too,
' until one night when he was coming home
j late in a wagon and an automobile ran into
him and smashed him up. They picked him
up with his skull cracked wide open and
toted him off to the doctor’s. They all
thought he was as good as dead, but that
doctor was a mighty smart chap and he
saved Gene’s life. The only trouble was that
before he could get to work on Gene purty
near all of Gene’s brains had leaked out
through those cricks in his head. Yes sir, he
didn’t have hardly a brain left to his name.
“Well, after Gene came to, it was up to
the doctor to break the news to him.
“Gene,” he says, ‘’‘you’re going to live.
You had a close call but in a little while
you’ll he as good as you ever was—that is,
I physically. But, Gene, it’s my painful duty
HER MONEY
BY CAROLYN BEECHER
What has gone before. —Althea Cros
by inherits a fortune on. condition that
she marry before she is 35. She falls
in love with handsome young Dr. Peter
Graham? and marries him without tell
ing him about thS condition in the will.
Eventually he hears gossips discussing
it and assumes she married him to get
possession of the fortune. He becomes
cool and she assumes he married her
for her money. She becomes very jeal
ous of her husband’s attentions to Mrs.
Ruth Williams, a wealthy patient. Al
thea meets Kenneth Moore and his
gayety attracts her. Now go on with
the story.
CHAPTER XXVII
THE telephone shrilled. It was still dark.
Althea, awakened out of a sound sleep,
wonderedz what time It was. She
heard Peter's voice as it floated in from
the hall:
“Yes —don’t worry,' Mrs. Williams. I’ll
be there as soon as I can dress. Yes—
have the butler stay with you until I coma
—wake him up then —it isn’t safe for you
to be alone.”
Althea, wide awake now, sensed the
anxiety in his voice. Shb dragged herself
to thtf door. She would prevent him going
to that Mrs. Williams! He shouldn’t go!
“What is ut Peter?” she asked.
“A patienjt-7—haven't time to talk.” ' He
was throwing on his clothes in a furious
fashion.
“What patient?”
“Mrs. Williams.”
“What's the matter with her that she has
to get you out of bed this time of night?”
“It’s necessary! Please don’t talk to me,
Althea.” He was in the hall now.
“I don’t believe, she is sick. It's just a
riise to get you there.”
“At 3 o'clock in the morning?” Peter
said as h© ran down the stairs into his
office, only to reappear in a moment with
his bag. “Better get back into bed, Al
thea; you’ll take cold.”
It was two hours later when she heard
him come in. His steps lagged on thb
stairs as if he were tired. A sob caught
in Althea’s throat. He would want no
sympathy from her—he who gave her no
confidence.
At breakfast she asked:
“What time did you get back?”
“About five.”
„ “What was the matter with her?”
“Nothing—it was that brute .of a hus
band. Been drinking bad liquor again. On
the verge ,of the D. T.’s. Poor woman, what \
a life she leads with him.”
“You/ are very sympathetic.” '
k “Anyone would be —if they had any heart
at all.” •
“It is gossipped that she intends to leave
him.” It hurt her to talk to Peter of this
woman she felt sure interested him, but she
couldn't stop.
“It would be a wise move on her part.”
“She is young, t called beautiful. I sup*
pose she would marry again,” Althea said,
her eyes on her face.
“No doubt,” Peter dryly replied. Althea
imagined he looked self-conscious, a bit em
barrassed.
“You admire her immensely?” she probed.
“Yes. She is quite wonderful.”
“I thought so.” Her voice held a sneer,
causing him to glance up quickly. “You told
me Dr. Cobb was his physician. Why should
she call you?”
“I don't* know—l didn’t ask. Perhaps be
cause she has confidence in me. Why are
you curioqs?” he asked, fixing her with his
eyes.
“Oh, no reason at all! I just thought it
strange she would feel she could call you at
such an hour when he usually has another
doctor. But her liking for you probably ex
plains it.”
Peter made no answer, but in his eyes
lingered a question—why all this curiosity?
Once more the thought that Althea might be
jealous swept over him, only to be dismissed
again.
“Don’t speak of what I have told you, Al- *
thea,” he said. “I should dislike very much
to have any comments coming through me
—what I have told.”
“Never fear; I’ll keep your secret.” Again
that double meaning was dominant in her
tone, without the haoudh..shrdlu up* up uup
tone, although the 'words were right enough.
In the reception room, the office door open
slightly, Althea later heard Peter telling Miss
Howard of his night call. She deliberately
listened. He told of how bad Williams was,
how near to delirium, and then praised Mrs,
Williams unstintedly. ,
“I told her to wake the butler and keep
him with her until I came but she said the
man was tired, so she had not done so. That
brute is capable of anything when ho drinks
the terrible whisky they sell nowadays. He
has a frightful temper—might injure her.”
“She is very /'harming,” Miss Howard’s
soft voice answered, “so kind and not a bit
condescending. I love to have her come to
the office.”
Quietly Althea went out. So Miss Howard j
too was intrigued with the woman. They were i
both bound together against her. Peter and
the nurse. Now she had another reason for
disliking >Mlss Howard. Her praise of Mrs. .
Williams. Probably she only spoke as she
did to please Peter.
That day Kenneth Moose returned and lost
no time in calling upon Althea, who remem
bering Peter’s praise of another woman, re
ceived him with such obvious pleasure that
he instinctively felt he had gained in her
estimation.
Continued Saturday. Renew fiow, so as not
to miss a chapter of this absorbing story.
QUIPS AND QUIDDITIES' : '
' I :
Son—“ What is a roost, father?”
Father—“A roost is a pole on which chick
ens roost at night.”
< “And ..hat is a perch, papa?” ■
“A perch is what chickens perch, on at
night.”
“Well, papa, couldn’t chickens roost on a
perch?”
“Why, of course.”
“And couldn’t they perch on a roost?”
“Certainly.”
“But if the chickens perched on a roost
tliat would make the roost a perch, wouldn’t \
it?”
“Oh,* heavens! Yes, I suppose so.”
“But if after some ickens had perched
on a roost and made it a perch, some chick
ens came along and roosted on the perch and
made it a roost, then the roost would be a
perch and the perch would be a roost and
some of the chickens would be roosters and
the others would be perchars and ”
“Oh, Susan —Susan, take this child to bed
at once.”
to tell you that you’ll never be able to run
a grocery store again.”
“Why not?” says Gene.
“Because,” asys the doctor, “running a
grocery store calls for keeping books and
the likes of that and keeping books calls for
brains. And, Gene, you haven’t got any
brains left to speak of.’ ”
“ ‘Doc,’ says Gene, ‘is that the truth?’’ r
“ ‘Gene,’ says Doc, ‘that’s the truth.’
“ ‘Well,’ says Gene, ‘it don’t make much
difference one way or the other —I was
figuring on going back tq guiding again
anyhow.’ ”
(Copyright, 1923.)