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A BIBLE THOUGHT FOR TODAY
Hast thou given the horse strength?
Hast thou clothed his neck with thunder?
Canst thou mak& him afraid as a. grass
hopper? The glory of his nostrils, is terri
ble. He paweth in the valley, and rejoic
eth in his strength. He goeth on to meet
the armed men. He mocketh at fear and
is not affrighted; neither turneth he back
from the sword. The quiver rattleth
against him, the glittering spear and the
shield. He swalloweth the ground with
fierceness and rage, neither believeth he
that it is the sound of the trumpet. He
saith among the trumpets, “Ha, ha!” and
he smelleth the battle afar off, the thun
der of the captains, and the shouting.—
Job 39:19-35.
J
Woodrow Wilson
THE death of Woodrow Wilson leaves
all the world in awe, and the nobler
part.of it In tears. The setting of a
•tar that lighted perilous seas, the sinking
•f an autumn whose harvests cheered hu
mankind, the fading away of a music 1 that
throbbed courage into legions of hearts—
•uch was the passing of his spirit. Into the
' shadow and stress of our mortal vale he
eame, a man of Providence, inspired with
understanding of the times, to know what
nations ought to do; and out of it he has
vanished, his grim battles ended, but their
glory forever flung across the ages.
Had he closed his career as Woodrow
Wilson the Schoolmaster, he still would be
remembet >d with the lofty figures of his
day. As a teacher he touched hosts of
minds to freer thinking and finer issues. As
« a man of letters, how remindful he was of
DeQuincey’s true scholar—“ Not one who
depends simply on an infinite memory, but
also on an infinite and electrical power of
> combination; bringing together from the
four winds, like the angel of the resurrec
tion, what else were dust from deatf men’s
bones, Into the unity of breathing life.’’
His presidency of Princeton gave him rank
with the foremost of educators, and his
, "The State," or his "History of the Ameri
can People" alone, an abiding name in his
country's literature. Yet these attainments,
■o shining and so rich in good, were but a
"prologue to the omen coming on.”
z When Woodrow Wilson, in 1911, entered
upon the governorship of New Jersey, his
first public office beyond the academic pale,
there began a new era in American politics.
Old manipulators of both the major parties
first scoffed, then hated, and finally feared,
but never understood him. They had known
and squelched many a visionary. But h*ere
was a man who, while speaking like a poe£,
outwitted the craftiest and outfought
the' boldest; as harmless Indeed as a
dove, but as wise as a serpent, and as
canny withal as the canniest of Septs. If
as Governor he was the "bosses’ ” enigma,
as President he was their despair; for even
they felt something of the thrill of a new
day, and saw that the nation had found a
leader.
How well he led In problems of peace, In
crises of war, and in the darker bewilder
ment and greater battle which ensued, only
the perspective of decades will reveal
aright. Much, however, Is already to be
discerned. During President Wilsons first
terpi, and thanks chiefly to hig initiative,
the people of the United States came Into a
I larger measure of economic and of social
justice than in all of forty years preceding. ;
j and into a larger view of human freedom.
Rigorous thinker as he was and lonely
watcher on the mountain top, his heart was
ever with the country’s rank and file, with
bread-winners, and burden-bearers, * and
home-makers— the vindication of whose
rights against intrenched privilege and ■
' I ,3 u.. .. ..cu.i doLnixAL
, greed was the first high passion of his
j statesmanship.
In those -days (how far they seem,
I
| through the reddened years that followed!)
' this masterful scholar in politics loved espe
cially certain lines of Wordsworth’s “Happy
Warrior.” Who is the happy warrior, he
that “every man in arms should wish to
be?”
'TIs he whose law is reason—
Who if he rise to station of command,
Rises by open means; and there will
; stand
On honourable terms, or else retire,
And in himself possess his own desire;
Whose power sheds round him In the
common strife,
Or mild concerns of ordinary life,
A constant influence, a peculiar grace;
But who, if called upon to face
Some awful 'moment to which heaven
has joined
Great issues, good or bad, for human
kind,
Is happy as a lover; and attired
With sudden brightness like a man In
spired;
And through the heat of conflict keeps
the law
In calmness made, and sees what he
foresaw.
How biographic of Woodrow Wilson’s soul!
And how prophetic! Had he laid the bur
den down in 1917, ere America’s sword waft
unsheathed for the Great War, he still
would be numbered with the noblest of her
statesmen; but all that he had dreamed and
done before, was now but a springboard to
vaster issues.
A world thinker he became, doing the
will of the Eternal Mind. He saw America
/ i
as no hermit nation hugging her chattels
for safety, but as one to whom nothing of
humanity was alien, a friend to freedom
the earth around and a cherlsher of Im
mortal values. So he met the challenge of
Prussianism,’ not as an apologist for war,
but as a for peace. "We shall
fight for tlje things we have always carried
nearest our hearts,” he declared, “for
democracy, for the right of those who sub
mit to authority to have a voice in their
own governments, for the rights and liber
ties of small nations, for a universal do
minion of right by such a concert of free
peoples as shall bring peace and safety to
all nations and make the world Itself at
last free.” Proclaiming a war to end wars,
he caught his battle cry from the heart of
the Prince of Peace: “We have no selfish
ends to serve. We desire no conquest, no
dominion. We seek no indemnities for our
selves, no material compensation for the
sacrifices we shall freely make.” Gray in
triguers of diplomacy grasped as little of
his meaning then as party “bosses” had
aforetime; and some there are to whom his
ideas are still as foolishness and a stumbling
block. But the multitudes understood.
Mothers of bleeding France, watchers at
lonely, hearthsides beyond the Alp snows
and the Rhine, toilers of every land, sorrow
ers under every flag, soldiers in every camp
and legion of Truth heard the voice of
Wilson, which was then the voice of
America, as' the trumpet-herald of a new
and fairer world.
That their hope might not be deferred he
spent himself to the uttermost, pouring out
his life in heroic labors and meeting a
martyrdom more bitter-than fire or sword.
His failure was for a season; his success
will be for the ages. He was not all-wise—
“ The gods will give us faults to show us
we are men.” But he was all-sincere, and
ever-faithful to his heavenly vision.
True to his life was his greeting of
death! When told- that the call had come,
“I am ready,” he said, and serenely awaited
the embarking. We can but think of Ten
nyson’s knightly Arthur, broken with battle
and forspent with grievous wounds, borne
darkly down the billows of the mystic lake,
far on and -on past mortal’s keenest ken—
till
From the dawn it seemed there came,
but faint, /
(As from beyond the limit of the
world,
Like the last echo born of a great cry,)
Sounds, as if some fair city were one
voice
Around a king returning from his wars.
So passes a noble American to his splen
dour. But who here shall lift his shield
and bbar his sword? Who keep his faith
and bear his sword? Who keep his faith
and lead his cause? . . . "Lord God of
Hosts, be with us yet, lest we forget!”
QUIZ
Any Tri-Weekly Journal reader can
get the answer to any question puzzling
himjjy waiting to The Atlanta Journal
Information Bureau, Frederic J. Has
kin director, Washington, D. C., and in
closing a two-cent stamp for return
postage. DO NOT SEND IT TO OUR
ATLANTA OFFICE.
Q. Does the skin aid any in the breathing
of man? w. H.
f-’ , As , a re . s P ira t°ry organ the skin has
a slight function, inasmuch as some carbon !
dioxide is given off and oxygen absorbed
Q. How much butter does the average '
American eat each year? D. A. B.
r he average butter consumption in the
I nited States is only 17 pounds. Four pounds
of cheese may be added to this. In England
17 pounds of butter and 11 of cheese is the
annual per capital consumption. Austra
lians consume 25 pounds of butter and five
pounds of cheese; Danes. 19 pounds of but
ter and 12 pounds of cheese; and Canadians
about 30 pounds of butter. In other coun- i
tries surveyed the amount fell below the av- J
erage of consumption in the United States. j
Q. What was the religion of Charles Dar- j
win ? D. K.
A. As a young man Charles Darwin was a ‘
Christian. His later views on religion are
best expressed by himself in his autobiogra
phy. where he says; "in my most extreme '
fluctuations I have never been an atheist in
the sense of denying the existence of a God.”
THE LOVE TRAP
HAZEL DEYO BACHELOR
What has gone before. —Gail Mar
tin has been engaged to George Hart-
I ley for two years when he pilts her for
| another woman, who, in turn, refuses to
marry him. Gail longs to get away from
the small-town gossip, and, when things
are darkest, her great-aunt Debbie dies
and leaves her $5,000. Gail resolves to
take the money and break away from
Dalesburg forever. Against the wishes of
her family, she comes to New York.
—NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY.
CHAPTER XXIX
The New Gail
IT IS doubtful whether Gail’s own mother
would have known her daughter had they
met casually on Fifth avenue. The change
in the girl was remarkable, and it was due
not only to her clothes, but to the fact that
she had gained poise, she seemed slimmer,
she carried herself better, and she had learned
many little artifices that added much to her
general appearance.
The touch of French rouge on her cheeks
brought out the rare clarity of *ier skin, and
the expensive powder dusted over her face was
less noticeable than the plain talcum she had
used in Dalesburg. Then, too, the arrange
ment of her hair -was vastly becotning. Gail
had never known before that she possessed
that mark of beauty cal|ed the widow’s peak,
and with her hair brushed off her forehead
and brought low over her ears, her face took
on an exotic expression, enhanced somewhat
by her high cheek bones. If Fay Morrison
had seen her now, she would never have
spoken of her as conveyed or dumpy. Gail
had plenty of personality of her own, and in
addition to that her charm went deeper, for
she had character.
But even with the knowledge that she was
not the same girl who had lived all her life
in Dalesburg, even with the knowledge that
she had gained something of what she wanted,
Gail was not happy.
She was in New York, she had speMt &
great deal of money, but what had she, after
all? She knew no one, and she hadn’t the
slightest idea of how to go about meeting
any one. Os course, these thoughts did not
trouble her always, for she was busy rushing
around, seeing things, and it was a delight
to wear her lovely new clothes and to catch
glimpses of herself occasionally in mirrors.
But at night, alone in her room, she’ lay
awake for seemingly hours, thinking of her
problem. When she had first decided to takd
her money and come to New York, she had
not troubled to plan definitely. - It was
enough to get away, and she was young
enough to believe that the Impossible would
happen. She had feasted on her dreams of
life and romance. Once away from Dales
burg, things would begin to happen to her,
but she was forced to believe now that un
less she herself made things happen she was
as much in a trap as she had been at home,
to wetr her lovely new clothes and to catch
more.
She had loathed the fact that in Dales
burg pveryone had known all about her
humiliation. But wasn’t it just as bad to
be ignored utterly, to feel that in all this
great hurrying city no one cared what hap
pened to her? There was just one thing
that comforted her. Seeing the thing in
retrospect, she was fiercely glad that she
had not married George Hartley. If they
had married soon after they had become
engaged, it is true that they' might have
been happy, because neither of thenT would
have known anything different, and small
town conventions would have bound them
to each other. If they tyad been married
George would never have yielded to Fay’s
blandishments, and she, Gail, would not
have had any longings to tread the wider
way. Perhaps things would have been bet
ter that way, and yet, could George have
held her love if in after life she had dis
covered him to be so weak, so lacking in
honor?
"Things didn't just happen,” Gall told
herself over and over. "There must have
been some reason for it, or I shouldn’t be
here. George and I weren’t Intended for
for each other, and that’s why I’m in New
York, I’m certain of it, and if that’s true,
then things must begin to happen pretty
soon.”
The next morning when Gail went down
to breakfast the clerk at the desk handed
her a square white envelope. It was post
marked New York, and the stationery was
of the very finest quality. As Gail tore
open the envelope her heart beat fast with
/the conviction that at last something un
expected and thrilling was about to happen.
CHAPTER XXX
Cinderella!
/T Y DEAR MISS MARTIN,” began
IV/I the nqft© that Gail held in her
trembling fingers. "Mr. Garfield,
who Is a very dear friend of mine, has writ
ten to tell me that you are visiting in New
York at the present time. I am having
a little dinner for my eldest daughter, Gar
cia, next Tuesday evening at 8 o’clock, and
I want very much to have you with us. Ido
hope that you have no other engagement
for that evening.
“Very sincerely yours,
“ELOISE CARTER VAN ALSTYNE.”
How wonderful, bow perfectly wonderful.
And Gail’s heart fairly sang as she went
into the dining room and ordered breakfast.
It was true, then, the feeling she had
had last night that something w’as about
to happen. Something had. happened. She
was going to a dinner party, a real New
York dinner party. At last she was going
to meet people; life was about to begirt for
her, and never again would she be sorry
for having taken the step that put Dales
burg behind her forever.
Over her grapefruit her thoughts went
winging to the white evening dress with
touches of monkey fur. Since the day of
its arrival it had hung in her closet upstairs,
but now at last she was to have an oppor
tunity to wear it. She would go to Mrs.
Van Alstyne’s dinner party, , certain, of
being well dressed, and with such a be
ginning who could tell what might happen
afterward?
Dear old Mr. Garfield! How nice of him
to take this trouble for her. She must
write him that very morning, and she must
answer Mrs. Van Alystyne’s note immedi- j
ately. Surreptitiously, Gail slipped the;
sheet of writing paper from its envelope j
and looked again at the engraved address. I
Park avenue! Somewhere she had heard)
Park avenue mentioned as a very exclusive
part of the city. The name Van Alstyne ■
too was aristocratic and reminiscent of the I
early Dutch settlers.
"I am having a little dinner for rfiy eld-j
est daughter, Gracia.’’ And as Gail read]
the sentence over again she tried to imagine!
what Gracia Van Alstyne was like. It was !
a beautiful name, so much nicer than Gail j
Martin, so much more musical and high
sounding! i
Gail spent the time between Wednesday •
and the following Tuesday in a perfect fev.er ;
of anticipation. The days fairly dragged'
and when at last' Tuesday arrived, and it
was actually time to dress, the intensity of i
her excitement had made her quite radi-I
antly lovely.
"I feel tike Cinderella going to the ball,"
and she laughed at her reflection in the
mirror as she did up her hair. How ex-J
< the coun
BY MRS. W.
THE COLD WEATHER AND BOLL
WEEVIL
A RENTER called to see me this morning
and, among other things, he said he
had examined his cotton seed, saved
for planting, and found boll weevils in the
warm bulk of cotton seed. The old pests
have kept warm during our Arctic weather.
They are faring better than some of us—
with all the coal and wood fuel we could
gather to keep warm. I have no inventive
genius that I can offer, but it looks to me
that there should he some preparation for
sifting planting seed or dusting them with
poison before tlw are put in cotton furrows.
If these cotton seed, saved for planting,
J had been exposed to our late zero weather
j it is reasonable to suppose a good many wee
i vils might have been killed! Anyhow, it is
' tantalizing to remember we have been keep
| ing the d—ls warm while the human kind
i have had to suffer with extreme cold.
In my younger days our family never
sowed any wheat seed unless the grain had
been soaked in "bluestone” water to kill
what we called "the flv.” It was specific
treatment for a pest which had been kept
warm and in good condition from harvest
time to planting time in the fall. If I recol
lect, that wheat fly was nick-named The
Hessian Fly. We have no luck with wheat
in Georgia, as we used to have before the
great west supplied us with flour. I trust
the farmer readers of this Country Home
Column will put their wits to work and hunt
up something like lime, or strong ashes, or
calcium arsenate, or dipping the planting
seed in a poisonous mixture before they are
put in the distributors. It would certainly
Pay to kill them, and one bale of lint cot
ton at present prices would certainly foot the
expense bill.
Until the present January, 1924, we have
had no such low temperatures since 1918, six
years ago. We have saved up planting seed,
pr we have bought cotton seed from thriftier
people year after year.
The boll weevil has lived in comfort ev
ery winter in the piles of planting seed. The
old raskils” might have been less comfort
able In the old cotton stalks.
Anyhow, we must learn our valuable les
sons by experience.
It can do no harm to sprinkle the plant
ing seed with a disinfectant when the plant
ing time rolls round. A weak solution of
lysol will kill germs on inflamed human
flesh—but lysol is very expensive. There
must be a something which will destroy the
germs that we can look at—and so cordially
dislike—and which rob the cotton states of
many millions of dollars in the loss of cot
ton. In the old plantation days my husband
always dampened planting steed, and put
them in the ground when ready to sprout, to
insure a good stand.
It never hurt the seed, that I remember.
PORTRAITS IN THE GLOWING GRATE
WHEN I was very much younger than
today, there was a book, published
and popular all over the United
States, with the author’s name set (town as
“Ik Marvel,” a name assumed by a very
remarkable American writer.
It was a story of reminiscent dreams,
based on imaginary pictures in the wood
fires, which were universal before anthracite
coal was popular, and bituminous coal was
confined to limited sections of*the United
States.
The “Ik Marvel” book attracted me and
has remained 1 with me, although I have not
seen another copy in nearly half a century.
But the idea of the pictures in the coals
has always been latent in my memory.
Some nights ago, I had a wakeful spell, but
I was not sick or in pain. My bed pillows
commanded a view of an open grate and
QUIPS AND QUIDDITIES
A girl secretary discovered that her em
ployer and her husband did jiot live happily
together, their quarrels being embarrassingly
frequent. She therefore gave notice to leave, j
"Why?” inquired the woman in surprise.
"Oh, you don’t want a secretary In this
family,” replied the'girl. “What you need is
a referee.” '
In Bagdad at the time of the great hous
ing shortage was a man who owned a furni
ture van. To him came a citizen who said:
‘There being such a housing shortage, I
presume you have but little use for your fur
niture van.”
“You say true, Effendi,” responded the
man. "I can move but few people when
there is no place to which to move.”
"I wish to rent your van.”
"I rejoice, Effendi, that you have found a
place to which to move.”
“That is not why I wish to rent your van.
I want it to live in.”
Leonard Bacon, who was one of the hest
known theologians in New England a half
century ego, was attending a conference in
on© of the New. England cities, and some as
sertions he made in his address were vehe
mently objected to by a member of the op
position. "'Why,” he expostulated, “I never
heard of such a thing in all my life!” "Mr.
vast, to offset my knowledge, however
not allow my opponent’s Ignorance, however
small.”
POINTED PARAGRAPHS
Certainly the geographer needs to be
worldly wise.
The Lord made woman and she made her
self over into a ladv.
Bargain counters nevbr care whose pocket
book they dent.
Love’s young dream Is apt to develop into
matrimonial nightmare.
i
One man’s success may spell disaster for
another.
citing it was to be living in New York and ;
dressing in beautiful clothes for her first
real dinner party!
"Why, I’ve lived more in these last few i
weeks than I could put into a lifetime in
Dalesburg,” ran her thoughts, "and best of
all, this is just the beginning.” Gail at
that moment was supremely self-confident,
there was not a cloud on her horizon. A.nd i
yet in likening herself to Cinderella, she
had forgotten the rest of the story. Cinde-.
rella had gone to the ball, it is true, and,
she had seen Prince Charming there. But i
at the stroke of twelve her beautiful gown 1
had been turned into rags, and her mag- ) 1
nificent coach with its four white horses had ; '
changed into a pumpkin shell drawN by ■ ‘
four scurrying rats.
At last Gail was read}’! From the top of .
her sleek dark head to the tips of her slim j
feet in white satin slippers with black
enameled buckles she was quite perfect. ; s
With a last hasty look into the mirror she 1
snapped off the and caught up her (
cloak. Five minutes later in a yellow and ; ‘
black taxicab' she was being whizzed up -
Fifth avenue. i J
Thursday—"lgnored” and "The Fascinat- -
ing Stranger.” Look at the label, and if
your subscription expires "1 or IG, FEB.
24,” renew now so as not to miss an in
stallment ot this splendid story. (s
Tl ESDAY, FEBRUARY 5, 1924.
IT RY HOME
'. H. FELTON
I tried to forget outside thoughts by watch
ing the flames and red-hot coals after the
leaping flames had subsided, and coals were
heaped high in the When the ashes
filtered over the coals, and there were black
' spots as well as red spots, I saw three dis
tinct pictures, which were peculiarly inter
; esting. First, there was a distinct portrait
of a fine cultured face, in street dress. The
, hat resembled black velvet, for it was a
\ woman’s face, and the entire garb, to the
. shoulders, was elegant and in good taste.
The features were most attractive and the
black velvet hat had a gray ash veil over
the top. I could fancy a pair of gold nose
spectacles. If the fhce had been painted on
canvas or photographed by a skilled artist
: it could not have been more accurate while
■ it remained. I could not place the portrait
by memory of any one I had previously
seen. Nevertheless, it was a charming pic
’ Lure of a fine face, with even the dimples
and delicate lines on the face carefully de
! lineated. Directly, the collapse came. A
; movement of a block of coal wiped off this
picture from the screen and the stranger
left my vision.
. But the glowing coals rearranged them
selves into a fresh picture. There was an
> appearance of a young lady, also in street
: dress, of splendid form (I could see to the
> knees), dressed in the height of fashion,
with a turban of shining yellow gold, and
’ with her left arm raised as if she was ad
; dressing some visible companions. Such a
‘ picture in real life would represent a belle
of 1924, the profile delicate and high-bred,
‘ and her neck and arms were beautiful to
! look upon for their symmetry and grace. I
( could distinguish the fingers on the extend
. ed hand, in her animated posture, full of
vivacity and good, cheer. The young wom-
; an’s picture suddenly disappeared all but
the arm and hand extended, as before, and
the portrait became a military officer in
.j U. S. uniform, with gold stripes on the
. sleeve and a military cap, with stars of
glowing light on the front of the turban
- and stars on the front of the coat with
gold stripes on the dark pants. He was
- evidently commanding some people, out of
* my range of vision. He looked to be less
- than forty, erect, strong and splendid in
1 health and vigor.
, I had a good time with my picture gallery
r in the grate, but I felt I must get a night’s
rest, drink a glass of water, lay on fresh
. lumps of coals and then get back to bed
for the city clock was striking -eleven p. m.
Having made so many picture acquain
tances in a short two hours I went to sleep
o. k. and didn’t wake next morning, until
the city clock struck seven a. in.
If I was an artist, I could paint all three
of my grate pictures; and they were fine
pictures, in (hat bed of glowing coals, and
I enjoyed their beauty and fine style of
apparel, and while the picture gallery col
lapsed into ashes I had a glimpse of some
thing really worthy to be thus inspected. I
have vritten tnis homely incident to arouse
the interest of youngsters in what even the
red-hot coals in i/n old-fashioned grate can
get together for their amusement on a win
i ter’s night.
It was a sort of a movie picture affair
to me, and I guess my mind hrfd connected
somewhere with "Ik Marvel” book, and
what he saw and romanced about, before
the screen' pictures of modern timefc were
ever imagined or developed.
I was wide awake, and not dreaming.
May be some bright young writer can frame
up another story for our readers with shift
ing blazes, in the grate.
THE CHILD WITH NO GIFTS
By Dr. Frank Crane
IF, mother, your child has no vlftc, you
really ought to be very glad.
■ As he grows up you are perhans dis
appointed that he does not seem to take to
the piano; he can never be a virtuoso on the
violin, his teacher tells you, he is no marvel
at figures like the Jones bdy, he has not the
Smith boy’s amazing memory, he is not sav
ing enough to give promise of ever becoming
a master of finance, he is ungifted in public
speaking; in fine, he Is just a plain, ordi
nary boy.
Stop and ask yourself what you most deep
ly wish for him. You would like him to be
famous, doubtless, to get on. possibly to get
elected. But would you not, after all, wish
most that he should be happy, honest, good
and useful? Naturally.
In other words, you would, in your heart,
rather get for your child life itself, in its
fullness and richness, than any of the adorn
ments or appurtenances of life.
Then, here is something for your comfort.
Every gift that singles a boy out above his
fellows is a threat to life.
’ Further, every opportunity Or advantage
over his fellows is a menace to life.
It is hard for a rich man to enter the
kingdom, we are told. The reason is simply
that he is privileged. And the tendency of
privilege of any kind is to corrode character.
It is, therefore, hard for the gifted orator,
violinist, beauty, or other abnormally en
dowed man or woman to enter the kingdom;
which, of course, means to live a full, round
ed, joyous life.
All the real greatness of any human being
lies in that part of him which he possesses
in common with the general mass of human
■ beings.
One may be a great actor, a treat singer,
even a great preacher, and still be a very
small, wretched human being.
Os course, it is possible for a gifted per
son, such as famous diva, a wonderful
orator, a noted writer, an inventive wizard,
a financial genius, or a beautiful woman, to
be a greof human being; just as it is among
• the possibilities (for, - It was said, all things
with God) for the rich man to
squeeze into the kingdom, and for the camel
to get through the needle’s eye; but the
changes are against it.
And the chances are decidedly In fivor of
the ungiftedi child (not the stupid nor de
fective, but the ordinary, evenly endowed
child), ..eeoming the most successful man, In
the truest sense of the word, of all men.
For the ungifted is likely to have the most,;
common sense, which is much better in this j
work-a-day world than any kind of uncom- !
mon sense. i 1
He will be less liable to excess, which is 1
the fool-killer’s other name.
He stands a better chance for becoming a ! ■
good husband and father, also a valuable ;
citizen. And it n. ;ans something i
a ' a and children and neighbors glad '
you are alive. I
He has a ten to one advantage in the race ! 1
for happiness. » )
Ethically he is the most promising. For *
sound morals and true religion are largely ;
matters of balance.
And the probability is that, whereas your ’
fledgling geniuses if they get on will give
you occasional thrills of pride, your ugly 1
duckling, your ungifted offspring, will be
the cheer of your days and the delight of 1
ycur old rge.
<
ABE MARTIN SAYS *
Wearin’ our hearts on our sleeves haln’t t
sj bad, but girls ought t’ keep ther souls out [
HER MONEY
BY CAROLYN BEECHER ,
What has gone before— Althea Cros- i
by Inherits a fortune on condition that
she marry before she is thirty-five. She
falls In love with handsome young Dr.
Peter Graham and marries him without
telling him about the condition in the
will. Eventually he hears gossips dis
cussing it and assumes she married him
to get possession of the fortune. He be
comes cool and she assumes he married
her for her money. She becomes very
) jealous of her husband’s kindly atten
tions to Mrs. Ruth Williams, a wealthy
patient, and also of the nurse In his of
-1 fice, Mabel Howard. Althea meets Ken
neth Moore and his gaiety attracts her.
—Now go on with the story.
CHAPTER LIU
WITH Moore’s return Althea bright
ened sensibly. It was good to be
catered to, thought of, taken about
by an escort who wasn’t jumping up and /
, leaving you to be escorted hoihe by others
! —as was often the case when Peter was
with her.
There were two who noticed this atti
tude: Peter and Moore. Each ascribed it
1 to the same cause: her fondness for Moore.
'■ In Peter this was but natural and it could
s not rightly be called conceit in Moore. He
, would be a dullard had he not noticed th*
[ pleasure Althea took in his society.
Also one other noticed.
L Miss Buddy smiled her slv, disagreeable i
3 smile when for the third time in as mffMM
days she let him in. Here was anot
angle in the household she might use
' her advantage. >
"That Mr. Moore Is in love with her,” she
muttered. "I wonder is she with him?
Queer doings, here. I ain’t blind. They
■ don’t care two pins for each other, them
t two, and now here’s this good-looking man
1 coming every day.” And she began to plan
i how this knowledge might be of use to her.
j She hated hospital work, Indeed never was
j retained in any hospital any length of time
! and was only employed at all because of a
t shortage of nurses. Her present position
3 was far more to her taste—short hours,
j light work and good pay.
5 Althea wondered a bit at her increase of
j familiarity, but dismissed it with a shrug.
She was probably to blame for taking to
her. Yet Althea did not desist, but listen
, ed eagerly to the .gossip from the hospital
' Miss Bundy retailed almost daily.
‘ was perhaps no better, no worse,
I than any other woman would have been in
. her position. She loved Peter—hopelessly
- she thought—still loved him and as he told
j her so little of himself, his life, she was
I ready to listen to anyone who talked of
him, who knew what he did. That the
5 truth was cleverly mixed with falsehood
-3 she had no way of knowing, so when Mlsa
j Bundy repeated things the nurses said about
Peter, his popularity with the young nurses,’
- f' nd ,? Irs ' Williams ’ devotion to his patients
to the neglect of those attended by other
physicians, she believed it all and suffered
i accordingly.
5 Always Althea had been reserved regard-
J ing her affairs, especially her home life,
i The occasion when Nell Blackwell had goad
■ ed her to talk had been the only one. Her
natural disposition, ideas inherited from her
Puritan ancestry, her pride; these had held
her silent. With Miss Bundy, she had lis
[ tened, never giving any sort of confidence
listened, hungry for knowledge of Peter.
When she heard people talking of this or
that happy married couple she smiled sar
castically. How little the world knew of •
the intimate life of men and women. She
and Peter were supposedly happily mated,
moved through the months and years quiet
ly, outwardly smiling. How many others
did the same, too proud to take the world,
even a small part of it, into their confi
dence? Not even to Kenneth Moore had
she confessed her unhappiness, although h*
had declared his belief In it more than
once, and she knew that Nell Blackwell and
Molly Butler suspected all was not right be
tween her and Peter.
Mollie she saw but seldom. They had
grown gradually apart, yet perhaps Molli*
was more nearly cognizant of their unhap
piness than anyone else —and not becaust
of Althea.
She never had to admire Peter, -
perhaps there still lingered the feeling sh»
had for him in the old days when she told
Althea she would marry fiim if she didn’t.
And on the rare occasions when she saw
him, she quickly noted the changes in him
—his graying hair, his eyes that seemed to
curtain a pain, his serious manner, pleasant
always, but without spontaneity.
“He to be always thinking of
something that hurts him,” she said after
meeting him.. "I wish I knew what hap
pened up there in Holden when they wer* -
ton their wedding trip. They both seemed
so happy when rthey went, so changed
when they came back. It’s terrible for
Peter to be unhappy—he’s so ' succensfr*; k, 1
too,, and they have Althea’s money hesidl jHk J
For even Mollie had never suspected
it was Althea’s money that had caused all W
♦be misunderstanding between them.'
“What ails you two?” she asked Althea
on one of her Infrequent calle. "You are
both young, have everything you want, but
you never laugh and talk together like you
used to. You’re pleasant enough to each
other, but so are people who aren’t mar- >
ried. You don’t act much like Mr. and Mrs.
I went in to see her baby, he
was at home, and how they did cut up to
gether. You and Peter are so serious."
"Blunt as ever, aren’t you, Mollie?” Al* !
thea parried. "We £an’t all be like Nell I
and Rodney, haven’t the same disposition*
Peter and I do very well —as well as most
people, I imagine.”
"I know it’s none of my business, Al- <
thea, but you seemed so in love with each j
other yvhen you married and now you act
more like brother and sister than husband 1
and wife. Peter has grown even better, i
looking—be careful and be nice to him or
someone will steal him.” Woman-like,
thinking more of the man than of Althea. i
" I
Continued Thursday. Look at the label
and jf your subscription expires “1 .or Isl
FEB 24,” renew now so as not to miss an
installment ot this splendid story.
I
MY FAVORITE STORIES \
By Irvin Cobb i
A disheveled man, much the worse for
! wear and tear and things, staggered out of a
blind tiger and laboriously propped himself
against th© door. For a while h© owlishly
surveyed the passers-by. Suddenly his foot
slipped and he collapsed in a hean on the
sidewalk and began snoring.
A hurrying pedestrian paused, reflectively j
surveyed the fallen man ana then poked his
head in the door.
"Oh, Frank,” he called, “Frank! Come
out here a minute.”
The proprietor of the joint, smoking a fat
cigar, emerged. He blinked in th© bright
sunlight.
"Hello, Jim,” he said pleasantly. "What’s
up?”
Jim jerked his thumb toward the slum
berer on the sidewalk.
“Yer sign has fell down,” he explained and *
resumed his walk.
o' thcr eyes. Ford is out o’ th* presidential
race, but we still have his backers, an’ th’
worst of it Is, they hardly ever look around
before they back.
(Copyright, 1924.)