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THE TRI WEEKLY JOURNAL
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A BIBLE THOUGHT FOR TODAY
For this cause I bow my fences unto the
Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, of whom
the whole family in heaven and earth is
named, that he would grant you, according
to the riches of his glory, to be strength
ened with might by his Spirit in the inner
man; that Christ may dwell in your hearts
by faith; that ye, being rooted and
grounded in love, may be able to compre
hend with all saints,, ivhat is the breadth,
and length, and depth, and height, and to
know the love of Christ which passeth
knowledge, that ye might be filled with all
the fullness of God.—Ephesians 3:14-19.
Freedom of the Air
FREEDOM of the air promises to be as
interesting, if not as troublous, an
issue during the nest few years as
freedom of the seas has been for the last
few centuries. Secretary Hoover, of the de
partment of commerce, recently declared at
n hearing before a Congressional committee
that radio communication “is a public con
cern ana to be considered from the stand
point of public interest on the same general
principle as other public utilities.” It is in
conceivable, he said, that the American peo
ple “will suffer this new-born system of
transmission to fall exclusively into the con
trol r.f any individual group or combina
tion,” and that it would be dangerous if
any obtained power of censorship over
broadcasting. He seems to have spoken the
Government’s mind on the matter. What
ever legislation may be needful to prevent
monopoly of converse in the ether will be
asked and doubtless will be forthcoming.
Thus are we reminded anew of the far
reaching influence of science and invention
on economic and social relationships, and
hence on political history. The revolutions
brought to pass by the steam engine and
the factory system were no less potent than
those ascribed to French philosophy. Tjjat
which changes a people's environment,
bringing new problems as well as new op
portunities, is certain to affect, and affect
profoundly, their manner of thinking and
to translate itself into their laws. Who
dreamed in the early part of the nine
teenth century that legislation concerning
railways would consume months, indeed
years of Congress and would be a field for
hard-fought political battles? Who dreamed
a decade ago that we now would be dis
cussing the freedom of the air?
Why Smallpox Increases
WHY is it that smallpox is on an in
crease in the United States, some five
hundred cases having been reported
within a single week? So able an authority
as Surgeon General Cumming, of the national
public health service, lays the blame on neg
lect of vaccination. “Much illness, suffering
and expense,” Science Service quotes him as
saying, would be averted if the well-known
preventive of the disease were duly employed.
“There were very few smallpox cases re
ported in New England and the Middle At
lantic States, but most of the other sections
of the country reported more cases than for
the corresponding period last year, and more
than the calculated expectancy.” It appears
further that typhoid and scarlet fever show
increases.
These facts serve to re-emphasize the vital
importance of state's and counties’ promot
ing pnnlic health service. Neglect of vaccina
tion is owing, for the most part, to careless
ness, or to ignorance, or to difficulties in
procuring a doctor to administer it. Espe
cially is thh the case in rural districts where
the city custom of requiring that all school
children be vaccinated has not been estab
lished. In such circumstances increase of
the malady is a nigh inevitable, whereas
due adoption of preventive measures would
THE ATLANTA TRI-WEEKLY JOURNAL
eventually eradicate it. To educate the peo-
ple in these matters and also to provide aid
for those in need is the great work of public
health agencies. Georgia should look more
liberally to this all-essential service.
McAdoo's Georgia Victory
THE verdict of the Presidential primary
on Wednesday is a magnificent and a
well-deserved tribute to a great Geor
gian a great Democrat, and a great Ameri
can. Ry a majority almost unexampled in
their political history the people of Wil
liam G. McAdoo's native state have declared
their faith in his principles and in his pre
eminent fitness for Democracy's eadership
in the national campaign. They have an
swered, once for all. those who either Item
misunderstanding or from malice have
sought to involve him in the Doheny scan
dal. Georgians are proverbially insistent
that their public servants, whatever else
they may lack, shall be above suspicion in
matters of this nature; and their indorse
ment of Mr. McAdoo, despite efforts to
prejudice and mislead them, is one of the
most significant, as well as most meiited,,
vindications ever delivered by a justice
loving people. Yhus approved and suported,
he becomes more than ever the foremost
candidate for his party's Presidential nomi
nation.
Senator Underwood, though he received
but a scattered minority of the primary vote,
is held in high regard by Georgia, whose
relationships with her good neighbor, Ala
bama, have ever been of the happiest. His
Services to party and to nation have been
richly distinguished, and will continue so
to be. He was defeated simply by virtue
Os the fact that the Democrats of this state
were in quest of a truly national candidate
and were determined that their influence in
the natioanl convention should be made to
count, and not be dissipated in mere com- •
pliments.
Cast for McAdoo, the state’s vote will
count definitely, potently, perhaps decisively,
and, beyond a doubt, for progress and for
victory. Even before the Georgia primary,
the ablest observers of national politics pre
dicted that he would enter the New York
convention a leader and that his friends
would control the final choice of a nominee.
More than ever is this the case today,
thanks to Georgia’s discerning and whole
hearted action. Her voters have made splen
did history for their commonwealth, which
doubtless will develop into splendid history
for their nation.
It has been The Journal’s privilege to do
what it could toward bringing this happy
result to pass. But our satisfaction lies
chiefly in the common sense and the sense
of common justice which the people them
selves have manifested and in the prophetic
achievement for forward-going Democracy.
To all who have labored so devotedly and
so effectually for this end, we offer hearti
est congratulations, particularly to Mr.
Thomas J. Hamilton, state manager of the
McAdoo campaign; Mr. Miller S. Bell, head
quarters manager; Mrs. Edgar Alexander,
chairman of the woman's state organization;
and to Mr. Hollins Randolph, who has been
everything to the cause, from a fidus
Achates in time of storm to a self-effacing
comrade in victory's hour.
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, I). C., and in
closing a two-cent stamp for return i
postage. DO NOT SEND I I TO Ol l»
ATLANTA OFFICE.
Q. What speeches did the late President
Harding make on his trip to Alaska? C. C.
A. President Harding made many ex
temporaneous short talks, but the set
speeches were the following: The Interna
tional Court of Justice, St. Louis, Mo.;
Transportation Problem, Kansas City, Mo.;
Agriculture. Hutchinson. Kans.; Law En
forcement, Denver. Col.; The Coal Problem,
Cheyenne, Wyo.; Taxation and Expenditure,
Salt Lake City, Utah; Co-operation in Pro
duction and Distribution, Idaho Falls.
Idaho; Address, Pocatello, Idaho; Social
Justice, Women and Labor, Helena, Mont.;
National Business Conditions, Butte, Mont.;
Development, Reclamation, and Water Uti
lization, Spokane, Wash.; The Oregon Trail,
Meacham, Oregon; Immigration and Ameri
canization, Portland, Oregon; The Merchant
Marine. Tacoma. Wash.; Canadian-American
Relations, Vancouver. B. C.; The Territory
'of Alaska, Seattle, Wash.; Our Foreign Re
! lations, San Francisco, Cal.
Q. How long did whaling trips last in
the old whaling days? G. O. K.
A. The old-fashioned whaler often took
three or four years to gather its cargo of
oil and whalebone.
Q. How many elk are there in Yellow
stone Park? H. H.
A. There are over 30,000 elk. several
thousand moose, a large and increasing
herd of buffaloes, and innumerable deer
and antelope in this park.
Q. Where is the geographical center of
the United States? G. B. W.
A. It is at Fort Riley, Kansas; a menu-I
ment iliarks the exact spot.
Q. At the time that tlrt? United States
was formed, what proportion of the popu
lation was English? J. M. T.
A. In 1790. the English people in the
United States formed 83.5 per cent of the
population: Scotch, 6.7 per cent; Irish. 1.6 j
per cent; Dutch, 2 per cent; French. 0.5 !
per cent; and German. 5.6 per cent; all!
other. 0.1 per cent. The entire population i
[at that time numbered 2.810,248.
j Q. Is Calvin Coolidge president or acting !
I president? O. G. J.
I , A. He is president of the United States.
1 he constitution provides for this succession
in office.
Q. Is there a singing fish? K. E. S.
A. The sapo. which lives under stones
near the shore is often called the singing 1
, fish on account of a peculiar humming noise
i that is made by its air bladder. Sapo is a
South American name for various toad !
i fishes, especially for the singing variety
(which is found along the California coast, |
SLANDER
BY HAZEL DEYO BACHELOR
What, has gone before—Miriam Fol
wcll, a young business woman, spends
the day at an out-of-the-way place with
Warren Holmes, a man she knows only
slightly. They miss the last train and
are forced to remain overnight at the
inn. Holmes asks her to marry him,
thinking in that way to protect, her repu
tation, hut she refuses him. On the fol
lowing day, when they return to the
Pine Notch Hotel. Miriam finds scandal
browing and decides to return to the
city at once. —Now go on with the story.
CHAPTER VIII
Innocent or Guilty?
MRS. MALTBY’S face was uncompromis
ing, her thin lips were drawn into a
straight line, her beady black eyes
were severe as she fixed them on Miriam’s
face. For a moment she did not speak, and
then as she looked around at the signs of
packing, she remarked:
“I see that you have decided to go. Well,
that’s the best, thing all told. I came up to
ask you to cut your stay short. People who
run a summer ho.tel can't be too careful, and
there’s been some talk.”
Miriam did not answer; she stood leaning
against the bureau in an attitude of polite
attention, but she made no attempt to excuse
herself for what had happened, and after a
moment Mrs. Maltby went on speaking.
“Haven't you anything to say for yourself?
Upon my word I don’t know what the girls
of today are coming to. When you came
here I thought you a nice, well-mannered
girl; I virtually took you under my wing be
cause you were alone. I felt justified in do
ing this, because I trusted you, but you have
betrayed my trust.”
And still Miriam did not speak. A thought
ful look on her face, she stood looking at
Mrs. Maltby. How typical the woman was of
New England. Everything about her bespoke
repression. She was narrow, ultra-conven
tional, almost bigoted. She knew nothing of
the temptation besetting youth. Miriam
doubted if she had ever been young, if she
had ever known the joy of hot young blood
rushing through her veins, if she had ever
looked upon human love and emotion as any
thing but sins of the flesh.
“I’m sorry you feel as' you do.” The girl
brought out the words stiffly.
“Sorry; I should think you would be sorry’
You have brought disgrace upon my place, to
say nothing of your own dishonor. Have
you no shame? Don’t you appreciate the
enormity of your wrong-doing?
“I have done nothing to feel ashamed of,”
Miriam returned proudly. “It was an unfor
tunate incident, but n6t wrong.”
“Not wrong!” Mrs. Maltby fairly hissed
the words. “Not wrong to remain away
overnight with a young and attractive man?”
“It wasn’t through choice.” Miriam felt
a wild inclination to laugh. Mrs. Maltby’s
attitude of righteousness seemed suddenly
absurd, so absurd that the girl hadn’t even
the inclination to defend herself.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that Mr. Holmes and I missed the
last "train. I was upset, but there wasn't
anything to do. I am telling you this, Mrs.
Maltby, because I feel that I do owe you
some explanation. You have been kind to
me. but it wasn’t kind to come to my room
with thp idea of puttin; me out of the hotel.
If you did trust me as you say you did, you
might have given me the benefit of the
doubt.”
“But you did remain away all night, and
there must have been some reason for your
missing the train. You’re not a child, you
know the way the world looks at such things.
It seems strange to me that you couldn’t have
found some way of returning last night. As
it is, you’ll never convince any one of your
innocense, never.”
“I haven’t the slightest intention of try
ing,” Miriam said evenly. “And as far as
you are concerned, Mrs. Maltby, you can go
downstairs and tell every one that you have
asked me to leave. That will absolve you
from everything, and I know that’s what you
want.’’
“Well, upon my soul, you take the matter
very lightly,” sputtered the indignant wom
an. “Some day you'll realize just how seri
ous it is, and then you'll appreciate my
feelings.”
“I don’t see what more I can do,” Miriam
returned. “You say yourself that no one
will believe me. Do you believe me, Mrs.
Maltby? Do you believe that I am inno
cent?”
Mrs. Maltby flushed a dull red. “I don’t
know. You don’t seem like that kind of girl,
and yet the whole thing looks very funny
to me.”
CHAPTER I V
Escape
THE time came when Miriam looked back
on her unfortunate experience with
Warren Holmes as a bad dream. For
the first few weeks after her return to New
York the memory of it haunted her. She
would live over and over again that terrible
night on tile mountain, Warren Holmes’ pro
posal of marriage, the queer little inn. her
fears. And over and over would she experi
ence that strange feeling of shame at the
memory of her return to the Pine Notch that
morning. The way Anne Bridges had snubbed
her, that terrible blonde woman Avho had
spoken to her in the corridor, calling her
“dearie” and believing the worst, Warren
Holmes' attempt to see her again, and Mrs.
Maltby's cruel words of suspicion. That aft
ernoon she had slipped out of the hotel and
taken the 3 o'clock express back to the city.
She had managed to elude Warren Holmes,
and the minute her train slid into the Grand
Central Station she had felt a lightening of
her spirits.
How wonderful New York had looked to
her! She had not even noticed the oppress
ive heat in her relief at returning to it.
Judged by New York standards her worry
had been rather absurd. Os course, the peo
ple at the Pine Notch Hotel had magnified
the whole thing, the rocking-chair brigade
was always avid for scandal, but here in New
York everything was different.
.Miriam never forgot the first glimpse of
her apartment on that hot summer evening.
Although the place reeked of that musty
smell always associated with unaired rooms,
it was home and it spelled safety, protection.
Miriam’s apartment was on East Ninth street,
just a few doors from Fifth avenue. It had a
good-sized living room and a -mailer bed
room, also a kitchenette and bath. It was
the typical New York apartment at a typical
New York rent, but Miriam had made it
charming with English chintz and simple but
well-chosen furniture.
The windows opened casement-fashion. and
had diamond-shaped panes. A cushioned
window-seat ran the length of the windows,
and the room was furnished with a couch
drawn up to the fireplace, a phonograph on
wheels, several comfortable chairs and some
inexpensive but gayly colored wool rugs. A
mahogany lowboy held linen, and a gate
legged table on which were strewn books
and magazines completed the picture.
Miriam was proud of her place and its fur
nishings. Her life in New York with its con
stant excitement made her girlhood days in
Burnside seem like a dream. She had never
been a part of the life there, and although
she had been in New York so short a time
and had ’made verv few friends, she was
happy.
That night she had spent alone in her
THE THIRD PARTY
WE ARE to have a third political party
in the West—the LaFollette party. The
call is issued. While the World’s War
was in progress it looked for a awhile as if
they were either going to deport him, or hang
him on a sour apple tree, from a swinging
limb and a href rope; as a. pacifist, anti-war,
politician, and a traitor Io his country.
But you never know —and the last thing •
that, could have been expected to happen in
1924, was the control of both houses congress,
by a faction known as the LaFollette group—'
but it has arrived!
They have never affiliated with Eugene
Debs, but Mr. Debs polled a million votes in
1920,’ although, he was behind Debs in the
Atlanta federal prison. He is out, but doubt
to go with the “radicals to disguise conhrdl
less feeble, and his following may decide to
go with the “radicals” to acquire considera
tion and avenge Debs.
There is no more a Prohibition candidate.
The I.Bth Amendment is law, and it is not
likely that Law Enforcement is going to put
out a separate ticket, although Governor
Pinchot, of Pennsylvania, is considered favo
able to such movement.
There is no race issue at present, north or
south. The exodus of the colored people has
done that much for the south —and the crowd
that always rode that negro nag in southern
politics will have have to get another ssue
and abate the lurid cry of white supremacy
just before election day. I have lived here
all the time since Appomattox, and have often
wondered how that issue would reach a con
clusion. The negroes went away and ww'l
have their political troubles “over there.”
This Third Party is intended to smash the
Republican party and it will do agood deal
on that line in the Western States, but the
question of what it will do in Oklahoma and
Texas, s worthy of menton, and Georgia has
some very restless people—seeking whom they
may devour.
It is by no means certain that the two dom
inant parties can hold the insurgents down in
any part of the Union. It is an unknown
quantity.
It will not be possible to know, until the
thing is done and over with —and then what?
In 18.84, the Mugwumps split off from the
Republican party and Mr. Blaine would have
come n still on the homestretch but for the
cry of “Rum, Romanism and Rebellion" —at
the eleventh hour. That elected Grover Cleve
land to the presidency.
In 1916 the women of the Pacific Slope, be
hind President Wilson would keep us otu of
Avar, regardless of party. ’ In 1920 they voted
down the League of Nations, with a zeal se
smbling ferocity. You nVer can tell. The
Rebellion part of the Mugwump controversy
Avill have its inning in 1924. The radicals are
solid for everything that wll honor the Union
veterans —as the Confederate veterans control
the Solid South. Do not forget it, they will
battle for Lincoln as the Conferedates battle
for Lee—when the crisis comes. Itt will be a
consuming fire when the conflict gets under
way—and t may be remarked that the Dixie
senators, who are now doing the cussing for
the LaFollette crowd, are apt to find bed
fellowship uncomfortable with the insurgents.
HEALTH BY INDIRECTION
By H. Addington Bruce
THERE is a valuable hint for the nerv
ous in general in the advice which
psychologically trained physicians now
adays give to patients who come to them
complaining of inability to sleep:
“Don't try too hard to fall asleep. That
will tend to keep you awake, not only by
keepings you in a state of tension, but by
keeping your mind fixed on your wakeful
ness.”
For precisely similar reasons all whose
nervousness is due to preoccupation with
anxious, Avorrying thoughts, should avoid de
liberate effort to banish from their minds
the ideas that torment them.
Too often, having been warned by a med
ical man that if they wish to be well they
must suppress the particular worry that be
sets them, they reek to do so by resolutely
reiterating to themselves, “I will not worry
about the thing that disquiets me.”
What is the actual effect of this? It is
to make it harder for them to banish the
disquieting idea.
For, manifestly, with each reiteration of
“I will not worry about this or that,” the
object of the worry is presented vividly to
the mind. By the laAv of association of
ideas, it brings up forthwith the painful
emotional images that have become linked
with it. Then the Avorrier is likely to start
worrying more intensely than ever.
The proper mode of attack is not the
frontal one of an emphatic, “I will not
worry,” but the indirect one or developing
interests that will effect a gradual substitu
tion of new ideas and associations in the
place of the Avorrying ones.
That is why “Work Cures,” “Play Cures,”
and “Hobby Cures” are peculiarly beneficial
to the nervous. Each in its own Avay, as in
terest in it augments, tends both to relax
the tension of incessant self-attention and to
make dominant in the mind ideas having
pleasant associations.
Thus the required banishment of the un
pleasant is almost effortlessly effected—cer
tainly is effected as it cannot be through
vigorous insistence on one's ability to con
quer by sheer exercise of will power.
“Don’t fight, let go,” is another way of
stating the same procedure. Remember al-
Avays that it is at bottom a question of oust
ing one set of ideas by another. And the
ousting can never be effected by any means
that, however unwittingly, keeps the unde
sired ideas in the forefront of attention.
As the psychologist Hoffding long ago
phrased it, in* a passage of peculiar signifi
cance to the nervous, and one which, if
taken to heart by them, would in many cases
mean speedy and complete freedom from
nervousness:
"It is not possible to oppose an idea quite
directly. The art of forgetting can only
consist in the suppression of certain idea's
by means of others. One who wishes to
forget must look for powerful and great se
ries of ideas, in which his thought may be
fully occupied.”
(Copyright, 1924.)
apartment. It had been luxury to sit back
in a chair and look about her. She remem
bered thinking how dirty the place was, and
hoAA’ she would get Minnie to do some clean
ing for her. The telephone had tinkled and
she remembered thinking with quick relief
that no one in Pine Notch knew where she
was. How convenient that there happened
to be a switchboard downstairs. It was a
protection, for if her name were in the tele
phone book and Warren Holmes happened to
come to the city with the idea of looking her
up, she Avould be forced to go over the un
pleasant incident again. As it was, she was
safe, and in time she would forget the whole
thing. So she had mused that night, and so
it had happened.
Miriam had her work, she had the excite
ment of life in New York, she had her few
friends, and not to any of them did she con
fide her experience of the summer. Grad
ually the whole thing lost importance in her
eyes; she relegated it to the past; even the
memory of it became dim and blurred, until
she finally ceased to think of it at all.
Tuesday: “Anthony Breen,” and “An Ex
change of Glances.’’
THE COUNTRY HOME
BY MRS. IV. H FELTON
SATURDAY, MARCH 22. 1924.
As 1 see the situation in Washington, they
will soon begin to feel lousy—wthuut fail.
“Shinny” Avas a primitive rustic sport, but
you bad to shinny on your own side to play
safe. It is always prudent to “shinny on your
own side.”
THE (’OLD SNAP IN MARCH
FOR more than a solid week the weather
has been severe. If the nights had been
longer it would have been very severe,
hard weather, indeed, for southern climates.
Rain last Sunday was followed by blizzard
weather. Then we had a very unprecedented
experience on Thursday. A drizzling rain in
the afternoon turned to a snowstorm. On
the north side of my dwelling I have a small
piazza, without a roof. There was no ob
struction, and the snow fell straight—and
next morning there were three inches on
the level.
Some snow is still lying about and some
ice. I found there was a place in the street
with solid, hard ice. The tulips and jonquils
are doing their utmost to bloom—but they
are all pinched and miserable, no doubt, if
tliey have any feeling on the subject..
The farmers used to remark: “We, will
have peaches if the trees bloom in March,
but none when the trees flower in February.”
The middle of March is here, and no blooms
up to date on our peach trees. In the year
18 19 Ave had an April freeze that was record
breaking. There was no Fulton county, and
Decatur was the county site of DeKalb —and
we lived there.
We had lovely spring weather for April,
until the blizzard came to us. There was
some snow (14th of April, as I recollect),
and then a. freeze. Everything that had put
forth leaves had them scorched and black
ened. Gardens were all ruined. Even onions
and radishes perisJied. df course there was
no fruit that year—and very little wheat.
In those days we grew wheat on all farms
that Avere farms. No western wheat was
shipped to Georgia, and after the April
freeze biscuit were scarce in even well-to-do
homes, all over Georgia.
My father had a big. level wheat field, be
tween sixty and one hundred acres, and the
wheat was in bloom. It was as high as my
shoulders, a girl approaching 14. Not one
bushel did we get from that field —and it
was killed so dead that a single match Avould
have started a SAveeping fire, from end to end.
In 1854 we had a killing frost, May 1.
Everything —gardens and fruit —were killed.
It proved to he a drouth year, too—one of
the worst I can remember in a long lifetime.
Spring time will come along—in due time
—but Ave have had : record March for 19 24,
up to date. There are handicaps in many
ways, when the seasons “get on a bender.”
Farmers can not prepare for a crop. The
plows, every one, should be turning land, and
the farm help ore sitting by the fire, and all
work suspended.
The only thing that is rabid is politidß. I
went down town this morning, despite the
cold, and the town was full—candidates and
workers for candidates. These active citi
zens can stand a whole lot of cold when they
are out hunting votes and influence. Nine
tenths of them will have time to cool off and
complain next week of the weather.
j RAZI, ALBITEGIUS,. HUGBALDE
i By Dr. Frank Crane
I' HAVE no idea what those three words
mean.
Razi, Albitegnius, Hugbalde.
That is why they are head of this ar
ticle. lam writing about them, not because
I understand them but because I do not.
I suspect they are names, from the places
where I found them.
The library of Sainte Genevieve is one
of the largest and handsomest in Paris. It
stands on the square in the center of which
is the Pantheon, the huge doomed and pil
j lared temple where lie the honored dead of
France. The facade of this library is im
posing in its seven straight lines.
Almost all the ornament of its front con
sists in names. There must be hundreds of
them, carved in plain capitals in rows and
columns, a stone roster of the illustrious
literati of all time, all countries.
Some of them I recognize: Pope, Alber
tus, Magnus, Balzac, Sophocles, Diderot, and
Augustin.
But these three, to be honest, I never
heard of.
Razi, Albitegnius, Hugbalde.
Os course, I could have consulted the en
cyclopedia. There stands the all-wise La
rouse, a row of volumes each day heavy
with the debris of knowledge. It would be
no trouble at all to look, up the 'hree wor
thies and then write about them as if their
names and works had been the diversion of
my infancy.
It is not that I am morally above such
things, but that not to know them at all ap
peals to my imagination.
They represent the great unknown, far
more interesting than the great known.
They stand for all those facts I have not
yet made mine; those stars whose titles nor
courses I have not yet learned; those flowers
that every spring for centuries have bloom
ed, yet are strangers to me; the living kings
I have not seen, the learned, the beautiful,
the rich, the famous, and the good it has
never been my privilege to meet.
Razi, Albitegnius, Hugbalde.
They gloom like three candles before the
vault where lie dead renowns, three stars in
front of an unaccountable galaxy of stars
dim to me as my Tellus is rim to them, these
names significant of the multitude of war
riors, princes, queens and grandees who filled
their little world wuth their fame in their
time and are now known only in strange
lists.
There are two waste baskets into which
most of the human race are thrown; one is
-for those who are nameless; the other is for
those who have a name and nothing else.
I have a deep longing to know the great
j souls of the past and of the future, as well
' as of the present.
Perhaps in the next world I shall one day
hold consoling and deep discourse with three
men whom I meet by chance traveling a
■ pleasant wood, and when after our conver
sation is over and we go our ways we bid
I each other “To God.” we shall each give his
name, and they shall say in turn;
“I am Razi.”
‘‘l am Albitegnius.”
“I am Hugbalde.”
“I—my name was never carved.”
(Copyright, 1924.)
QUIPS AND QUIDDITIES
“Stranger, would you grub-stake a poor
cuss who's down ou his luck? 1 bin told I
they's gold stickin' out nf the ground in
well, never mind where—and this time I'll
shorely strike it rich.”
The tenderfoot hesitated a moment. Cer
tain recent events flashed through his mind.
Truly, the customs of the wilds were beyond
his comprehension.
“All right,” he said briefly.
The somewhat puzzled sourdough followed
his benefactor into the butcher shop, and
upon his amazed ears fell this order:
“One sirloin steak, two inches thick.”
The senior partner was always complain
ing about the surplus e: celsior which kepi I
pilinz up. It was all cominz in awtd none go- !
ing out, according to him, and there was no j
’ HER MONEY ;
BY CAROLYN BEECHER
CHAPTER LXXIII
WHEN Dr. Graham told Miss Howard it
was Mrs. Graham Avho had planned to
have Doris come to them she could
scarcely believe she heard aright. Her dis
belief, her astonishment showed plainly in
the look she turned upon the doctor. He
smiled and said:
“So dry your eyes, and be happy. I have
great hopes that the change, being where you
can spend a good deal of time with her, will
be beneficial.”
But Peter himself still speculated regard
ing Althea’s motive. He had thought it was
because of Althea’s desire to keep him away
from Ruth Williams, yet—
He had decided firmly in his own mind
after Bundy told him her story—that Althea
was having him watched because she wanted
a divorce. The two ideas didn’t connect.
Perhaps she thought getting the child away
Avould aid her plans; that if he called on Mrs.
Williams it- could not he attributed to hie
anxiety over his little patient hut to a desire
to see Ruth Williams, and so give her cause -
to ask for a separation.
“It’s beyond me,” he said with a shrug,
then tried to dismiss all thought about Al
thea's reasons and take what she offered in
a grateful spirit.
“Would you like any help or suggestions
as to making the room ready for Doris?” he
asked the next day.
“Come and look at it. I think it is ready,”
Althea answered.
When he opened the door Peter gasped
with surprise. AH the heavy furniture and
draperies had ’ been removed and in their
place Avas a little white bed, dainty muslin
curtains, cane chairs, a table beside the bed
with a basket of colored wools, some chil
dren’s books.
“Why—Althea! It is perfect! I haven’t
a single suggestion to make. This is more
than kind of you—” He walked about look
ing at everything, unable to hide his astonish
ment, not trying to disguise his pleasure.
After a little he asked-:
“What’s the idea of the wools?” He
pointed to the basket.
“When I was a little girl I used to play
for hours Avith colored wools, especially if I
was ill in bed. Os course she may care noth
ing for them,” unconsciously her voice greAV
harder, “but they used to fascinate me;
matching up the colors, twisting them into
strands. I can take them away if you think
best.”
“No. indeed! It is a very clever idea, and
kind in you to think of it. I am very pleased,
Althea. No one could have done more—no
one.”
Althea turned away to hide the flush of
pleasure his words brought to her face. She
had tried to do her best; to be appreciated
meant much to her. It had been hard for her
I to decide to give her generous emotions ex
pression but once she had made her decision
she had taken real joy in fitting up the room
and found herself longing to make the little
girl comfortable and happy. It was a neAV
interest and across her mind had swept the
thought that perhaps had she taken more in
terest in Peter’s hospital Avork, in his little
patients, she might have been happier.
“I couldn’t with that woman there all the
time,” she told herself in excuse.
Doris was to be moved that afternoon.-
Althea, was in a perfect flutter of expectancy,
of excitement.
Had she done right to bring the child into
their home? Could she endure having Miss
Howard, the girl she believed had tried to
Avin Peter from his allegiance to her, in her
rooms, seeing her daily?
Rut over and above all was the question:
Would it keep Peter away from the handsome
widow, Ruth Williams?
When Doris was carefully carried in,
placed in the little white bed, Althea forgot
all he r worrisome questions in a surge of
pity for the lovely, frail child. She wor
shipped beauty and Doris Howard Avas an ex
ceptionally beautiful child. Peter repeated
a remark Doris had once made to him, when
Althea spoke of her loveliness.
“I told her once she Avas too pretty to
worry and she said: ‘God had to give me
something, I guess, to pay for making me
lame. It would be awful to be lame and
ugly, too.’ ”
“I never saw a lovelier child,” Althea had
replied enthusiastically “Her features are al
most perfect, and that mass of golden curls,
her lovely eyes like violets, are wonderful.”
“She is as lovable as she is lovely,” Peter
replied. “You will find that out for yourself,
however, Althea. You mustn’t let her make
you too much work. Jane and her sister can
wait upon her.”
“Os course!” Althea answered, somehow a
bit hurt.
As soon as the child had rested she talked
enthusiastically to Althea. They were alone
for a moment.
“I knew Doctor Peter must have a. nice
wife,” she said naively, “but you are nicer
than I thought. What a pretty basket and
such lovely colors. Is it your work Mrs.
Peter?”
“No, it is yours,” Althea replied, amused
at the name Doris gave her. “1 used to love
to play with wools when I was a little girl
like you, so I thought you might like to
also.”
Continued Tuesday. This story is nearing
the end. Renew now to avoid missing the
'concluding chapters.
MY FAVORITE STORIES
BY IRVIN COBB
Shortly after Raymond Hitchcock made his
first, hit, Eddie Foy, who was also playing in
New York, chanced to be passing Daly’e
theater, and stopped to look at the pictures
of Hitchcock that adorned the entrance. Near
the pictures was a billboard covered with
friendly extracts from newspaper criticisms.
When Foy had read to the bottom of the
list, he turned to an unobtrusive young man
who had been lounging in the doorway, watch
ing him out of the tail of one eye.
“Say, have you seen this new show?” he
demanded.
‘‘Sure,” replied the young man.
“Any good? and how’s this young fellow
Hitchcock ?”
“Any good?” repeated the young man pity
ingly. “Why, say, he’s the best in the busi
ness. He’s got all these other comedians
lashed to the mast. He’s a scream ”
"Is he as good as Foy?” ventured that gen
tleman hopefully.
As good as Foy!” The young man’s scorn
was tremendous. "Why, say, Hitchcock has
toy looking like a funeral. They're not In
the same class. Hitchcock is a real star. I’m
sorry you asked me, but I feel so strongly
about it I must tell you the truth.”
Ihe older man looked at him very sternly
and then, in hollow tones, he said:
“I am Foy.”
“I knoAv it." said the young man, cheerfully.
“I'm Hitchcock!”
(Copyright, 19121.
profit in it. The junior partner greAV tired
of this. So one morning, after conferring
with a customer, the junior partner beck
oned to the senior and whispered: “You
take him.”
“Why should I take him?”
“It maybe a chance to AA'ork off some of
our old excelsior. Tills man says he is fur
pishing a nest.”