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K.ITTLE MISS FIXIT,
Care Tri-Weekly Journal,
Atlanta, Georgia.
A BIBLE THOUGHT FOR TODAY
Warn them that are unruly, comfort
the feeble-minded, support the weak, be
patient toward all men. See that none
render evil for evil unto any man, but
ever follow that which is good, both among
yourselves and to all men. Rejoice ever
more. Pray without ceasing. Prove all
things; hold fast that which is good. Ab
stain from all appearance of evil.—From
the First Epistle to the Thessalonians
5:14-17; 22:22.
Georgia s Manifold Debt to
Scientific Research
THE work-a-day value of scientific ex
periment to all sorts and conditions of
men Is happily Illustrated In Georgia’s
present conflict with the boll weevil and
other farm pests. Time was when the com
monwealth would have been hopeless In such
a struggle. Though our yearly production of
cotton has been reduced by nearly one and
* half million bales, it would have been al
most blotted out but for the light which
science has thrown upon the peril. Had
there been no organized study of the ravag
ing weevil, no research with a. view to com
bating it, no discovery of methods for has
tening the maturity of cotton, no readjust
ment of agriculture to changed conditions
and needs, Georgia might now be a broken
bankrupt Instead of striding prosperously
forward.
What we owe to sclent
one matter Is typical’ of a thousand others.
The wondrous development of all sides of
farm interests during the last fifty years, the
Increased yield of crops, the improvement in
animal husbandry, the prevention of infer
tile soil, the control of hazards and misfor
tunes once regarded as predestined and in
escapable, for these and a multitude of
other safeguarding and enriching services,
we have the scientist to thank. Thus hun
dreds of millions of dollars have been saved
for Georgia, and hundreds of millions more
added to her wealth.
It is not the farmer alone who benefits
from such science, but the rank and file In
every field of endeavor, economic, social, and
personal. This Is aptly Illustrated by a
paragraph from the annual report of the
Georgia Experiment Station. We are asked
to imagine “an average citizen, John Doe,
waking up one morning in a world which
had forgotten or had never made use of the
knowledge gained through agricultural re
search.” The picture which follows is as
true as it is graphic:
“He sits down to breakfast and finds no
fruit on the table, as the citrus canker has
destroyed the orange groves of Florida nd
California, the San Jose scale, coddling moth,
and bitter rot, the apple orchards; and
brown rot and scab the peaches and plums.
If he asks for bacon and ham he is told
that hog cholera has destroyed so many hogs
that bacon and ham is unobtainable by ttie
average man. When he calls for bread he is
told that smuts and rusts have destroyed
the greater part of the wheat crops and that
flour is very scarce. Rising from the break
fast table, John Doe starts downtown to buy
himself an overcoat. Here he finds the price
of clothes prohibitive because anthrax has
destroyed large numbers of sheep, and that
lack of feed makes the keeping of those
which remain expensive. Cold and hungry,
ha decides to visit a farmer friend. Passing
along the road he notices that field after
field had been abandoned. The soil is so
poor that even the weeds arc stunted ar.d
dwarfed. John Doe asks the farmer why he
doesn’t fertilize these fields and plant them
in legumes. The farmer tells him that he
knows nothing of fertilizers nor <
The. only way he knows i« to farm a field
]y and cheerfully see
that things are made
right.
We want every sub
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THE ATLANTA TRI-WEEKLY JOURNAL
until il will produce no more crops and then
abandon it. Perhaps after a few years it
will pay him to return and farm it again for
a year or two. Dispirited John Doe deter
mines to buy a nice steak to cheer himself
up after a hard day. The butcher looks at
him in surprise and tolls him that the foot
and mouth disease has destroyed a large
number of cattle and those which remain are
poor and thin because of the cattle tick.
Buying a small tough steak he returns home.
Starting up the steps he is surprised that his
rosy-cheeked girl does not meet him at the
door. Going inside he is dismayed to find a
sad-eyed cripple creeping along the floor to
meet him. Astonished, he asks his wife
what the trouble is. She tells him that the
milk which they have been feeding the child
came from cows with tuberculosis, and that
his child has contracted the disease. Neither
she nor the dairyman knew how to pasteur
ize the milk or how to test the cows for
this disease. Broken-hearted, the man pre
pares for bed. Turning back the cover he
is surprised to find no sheets on the bed.
■When he asks his wife why, she tells him
that cotton cloth cannot be bought. The
farmer, knowing nothing of fertilizer or
poisons, cannot raise cotton at all since the
boll weevil has come. Kneeling down be
side his bed, John Doe raises his hands to
heaven and prays as he has never prayed
before for Experiment Stations.”
We commend this vivid parable to the
pondering of all who may have thought
lightly of ths scientist’s work or have be
grudged the State’s support of such endeav
ors. Georgia spends no money to better
purpose than that allotted to scientific re
search; and in justice to the common weal,
appropriations of this nature should be more
liberal.
Cons ederate Memorial Coins
WHEN President Taft appointed a
Confederate veteran chief justice
of the United States supreme court,
while the four corners of rne nanon ap
plauded, the world looked on with admiring
amazement. Where else, men asked, in all
the circle of the sun would there have come
such proof of reunitedness within the life
span of a generation that fought so grim
a conflict as the War Between the States?
Impressive as the appointment was, how
ever, it now yields the palm for gracious
wisdom to the bill passed by the national
Senate and House of Representatives au
thorizing the issuance of five million fifty
cent silver coins to commemorate the be
ginning of the Stone Mountain Confederate
Memorial. That the measure has passed
without one dissenting vote and is assured
of the President’s speedy approval, bears
witness to a spirit of brotherly understand
ing that augurs most happily so/ America.
The memorial coins will bear on one side
images of Jefferson Davis, Robert E. Lee
and Stonewall Jackson, and on the other a
likeness of the lamented President Harding.
In providing for their issue the Congress
has honored Itself and the country, as well
as the South; and in thus paying'tribute to
Confederate heroism has exalted American
ideals.
QUIZ
Any Tri-Weekly Journal reader can
get the answer to any question puzzling
him by -writing to The Atlanta Journal
Information liftreau, Frederic J. Has
kin, director, Washington, D. C., and in
closing a two-cent stamp for return
postage. DO NOT SEND IL IO OU K
ATLANTA OFFICE.
Q. Kindly give me figures on the subject
of the length of sentences of great English
writers prior to 1850. J. L. J.
A. Edmund Spencer averages about 50
words to each of his prose sentences. Richard
Hooker averages about 41. Milton sometimes
has more than 300 words in a sentence.
Macaulay's sentences average 22 words.
Q. Under what circumstances did the
United States take control of Haiti? AV. C. T.
A. The occupation of Haiti by Americans
came as a result of a series of political dis
turbances. General San, who took office as
President! on March 4, 1915, was obliged to
seek refuge in the French Legation on July
21 of th'at year, whiile 200 political prisoners
were massacred in jail. At the funeral of
the victims the President himself was dragged
out and murdered. Two hours later a United
States crusier arrived at Port an Prince and
landed marines. The United States forces oc
cupied the country and restored order.
Q. When was the first printing press in
stalled in the United States? Al. J. M.
A. The first printing press in the United
States was that installed at Harvard in 16"9,
and now operating as the University Press.
Q. How mav playing ca<ds bo cleaned?
E. A. AL
A. Soiled playing cards may be cleaned by
rubbing with a cloth dipped in spirits of
camphor.
Q. Are there two Colorado rivers in the
United States? G. N.
A. There is a river by this name tn Texas.
But the river to which this name is usually
given bears the longer title, ‘ Colorado River
of the West.”
Q. What is meant by the word diva when
used in reference to a great woman singer?
R. E. F.
, A. The word diva is the feminine form of
the Italian word divo, meaning divine.
I Q. How many pounds of explosives are
; used in the United States for industries? H.
' R. O.
A. The final figures are not available, but
I the total amount of dynamite made for co n-
I mercini purposes last year was nearly lliu.-
000,000 pounds. About 20,000,000 pounds
Q. How many were in the first group of
' English women who came to America? A.
1 E. H.
| A. There were seventeen members of Sir
i Walter Raleigh’s colony sent over in 15S.
■ who were women.
: melt? H. R.
’ A. Icebergs last for different periods of
SLANDER
BY HAZEL DEYO BACHELOR
What has gone before.—Miriam Fol
well, a young business woman, has an
episode in her life which, al-lhough in
nocent, has caused scandal. She has al
most forgotten it when she becomes en
gaged to Anthony Breen, a stickler for
convention, and at a tea given by his
mother to introduce her to society she is
introduced to a Miss Overton, who
knows all about the escapade and pro
ceeds to make trouble. Miriam's one
idea is flight.—Now go on with the
CHAPTER XXXIV
The Serpent's Tongue
HALF an hour after Miriam's departure
from the big gray house, Mrs. Breen,
Miss Overton and Anthony stood fac
ing each ather. Miss Overton's thin lips
wore a thinly disguised smile of triumph,
Mrs. Breen's withered old face was darkly
flushed arud indignant, and Anthony's expres
sion was ifiscru’table, his <6 es hidden behidn
narrow li<|s.
“You see her flight proves the truth of
what I have just told you,” she was saying.
“If she had been innocent, wouldn't she
have stayed to plead her own case?”
Mrs. Breen nodded her head slowly. She
was tapping with thin fingers on the arm of
her chair, a trick she had when agitated for
any reason. Anthony did not speak.
“Anthony, my poor boy,” Sara Overton
said, quickly turning to the man who still
had no-t spoken. “My sympathy goes out to
you. Os course you’ll have to invent some
story t® account for the broken engagement.
You can trust me not to spread the scandal
any further.”
Anthony turned toward Sara Overton and
for a moment met her prominent blue eyes
full. Then still without a word, he turned
on his heel and left the room.
The two women did not speak for a time.
Sara Overton’s cheeks wore a. dull mantle
of red, for Anthony’s look had told her ex
actly what was going on in his mind. She
felt indignant that he should have treated
her this way when she had done him a
favor. Hadn’t she saved him from mar
riage with an adventuress? What a story i-t
■would make, and Miss Overton passed the tip
of her tongue over her thin lips in anticipa
tion. Os course she must be careful how
she told the -tale, she must pledge people to
secrecy as to the source of their information.
But how the world would smile when it
knew. To think of the aristocratic Anthony
Breen, the man who for so long had looked
at women askance, and then had selected, a
common adventuress to bring into his moth
er’s home. It was delicious!
“What do you suppose Anthony will do?”
Miss Overton having struck her blow had a
fancy to turn the knife in the wound.
“Do?” Mrs. Breen fairly snorted the word.
“Why, what is there for him to do. He’ll
give her up of course. Anthony is proud, as
proud as I am. I told him when he first
brought her down that you can’t make a
silk purse out, of a sow’s ear.”
“Perhaps he won’t give her up.” Miss
Overton suggested. “Men are strange crea
tures, Blanche, and of course she's just the
kind of a woman to inspire passion in a
man.”
“I guess I know Anthony,” Mrs. Breen
returned scathingly. And yet at Sara. Over
ton's words a strange fear took its place in
her heart. Did she know Anthony? For
years he had lived away from her, he had
followed his own life. What reason had she
to believe that he would give up this girl
when he was so obviously in love with her?
Os course she could wash her hands of him,
she would tell him to go with his creature
and never enter the house again. And yet,
how could she do that? She was growing
old, and Anthony was dear to her. She, had
actually looked forward to his marriage, she
had hoped it, would mean a closter compan
ionship with him. And now suppose he re
fused to give up this girl. Could she take
a stand and hold to it when it, would mean
parting with Anthony forever? A shudder
passed through her at the very thought of
such a thing.
CHAPTER XXXV
Mother and Son
MISS OVERTON, irritated because she
was not aSked to stay for dinner, was
finally forced to depart. Her last
words to her friend were, “Don't worry too
much, Blanche; your secret is safe with me.’’
But Mrs. Breen hardly heard her. Her
thoughts were with Anthony and the minute
Miss Overton’s thin figure vanished through
the doorway, she rang the bell for Hastings,
the butler.
“Where is Air. Anthony, Hastings?” In
spite of all her efforts to control it, her
voice trembled.
“I don’t know, Airs. Breen. I haven’t
seen him, but I’ll look for him immediately,
madam.’’ And Hastings, with his usual dig
nity, turned to leave the room and its soli
tary occupant.
Mrs. Breen sat on, a lonely old woman.
She did not move until Anthony's footsteps
sounded in the corridor, then she raised her
head eagerly and waited for him to come to
her.
“Well, Anthony.”
“Yes, mother, what is It?”
“Haven’t you anything to say to me?’’
There was eager pleading in his mother’s
voice, a quality almost unknown to it, but
the sternness of Anthony's face did not re-
“No, I think not.”
Silence again for a moment or two, and
then Mrs. Breen persisted. At all costs, she
must know what he was going to do. She
could not stand the suspense of waiting anv
longer.
Anthonj, I ant hoping you will remember
your position and place in the world. You
von t play the fool, my son, for <he sake
of a woman who isn't worth you?” The
trembling, eager, old voice paused, and
Airs. Bieen waited for what seemed eterni
ties foi him to speak. She could not find it
in her heart to give him sympathy, there had
never been any softness between them, not
even when he had been a child. But some
how at that moment she longed to have him
kneel at her side, she wanted to put her
In ~‘ rs on his head, she wan-fed the assur
ance that he would not leave her.
I don t know what I'm going to do, moth-
U’’ • I P t ’ , J . niust see hGr ’ 1 nius t confront
her with this thing and see what she has
cUy^’ril 1 le^v l6^! 115 immediatel y for the
citj. 11l let xou know as soon as I can
see my way clear to making plans.”
T ™n>ul°us an § er seized' Mrs. Breen. He
"as leaving her, he was going to this other
woman, this cheap adventurers who hhVrt
wormed herself in-'o his hoa " U dU
'Anthony, you don't doubt the fact that
•».« e™-
here with me, Anthony o** 0 ** woman'-
3i] DIV 1i f P I*v n hppn nlnnA i j
J i\p uecn aione. I nerd you. niy
“Mother, I tell von T’n - •,
JwSWIjVB
know 'Vn U, Sa '?. .'I.U afterw 'ard, when I
you must know wh vnr'--> • j '■
Pu ‘ Anthony shook his head. His brain
_ was a chaos, he could not thin'- clna • i ♦
WHEN LINCOLN AYAS ASSASSINATED
<~pxHE Appomattox surrender occurred
April 9, 1865. President Lincoln met
his fate April 14, 1 865, less than a
week after the surrender. The president
and his wife, with an army officer and his
wife, occupied a box in Ford’s theater, and
all were in the best of spirits.
The bloody carnage had ended.
The soldiers were going home to peaceful
pursuits once more. The worn and anxious
president felt such relief that he gratified
his family by going to the theater to see a
very amusing American play, and his mind
was at rest. Wilkes boo-th, brother of the
great Edwin Booth, understood the presi
dent would attend that, night. He had made
up his mind to kill Lincoln somewhere and
somehow. His mind was obsessed with rage
and hatred. He was insane.
He came over from Baltimore, where his
mother and brother lived, took a room on
the third floor of the National hotel, and
waited for the time to arrive when he could
get near enough to shoot. He determined
•to make a big thing of it. Possibly he ex
pected to die himself, but he had a horse
saddled and bridled at a back door of
the theater. He had some accomplices.
While the gay crowd were enjoying the
play Booth, who was entirely familial’ with
the building and well known to the play
managers, quietly secreted himself in the
rear of the president's box, and placing the
muzzle of the pistol within a few feet of Air.
Lincoln’s ear, he fired the fatal shot.
Then he jumped from the front of the
box to the stage, shouting, “Sic semper ty
rannis!” (Ever thus to tyrants.)
He had spurs on his riding boots and one
foot caught in the decorative flags, and he
fell violently, breaking a leg. But he es
caped on the horse, and although the search
for him was thorough and riyid, it was some
days before any trace of him was discovered.
But for the broken leg he might have really
escaped.
The story of his death was a feature in a
Washington newspaper a few days ago. It
has jus-t been fifty-nine years ago.
I went to see the place where Lincoln was
killed in 1876. The building was then
changed to a museum filled with war relics,
mostly Lincoln relics. Aly chambermaid at
the National hotel, where we boarded for
a good part of six years, was a chambermaid
at the time of Air. Lincoln’s death. She said
the mob went through the hotel hunting for
Booth. One day she piloted me to Booth’s
room, and if they had found him it would
have ended right then and there in mob vio
lence. The hotel had several hundred rooms
and the enraged multitude searched every
place. They got his trunk and extra wear
ing apparel. She said there was no sleep in
the city that' night. The mob roared in the
streets.
I, in turn, told her how I heard of the
president's death in our refugee shack a few
miles out of Macon. We were aroused early
in the morning of April 15 by horses gallop
ping through the yard. Directly my trusted
house boy, who belonged to me, got into
the house to tell me that the soldiers were
S I ANDING UP ALONE —By John Carlyle
IT is quite simple and easy to live up to
your ideals when you are in the at
mosphere for it. It is easy to do the
right thing when you have no opposition.
It is not so easy when all the forces with
which you are in contact at the moment are
pulling the other way.
Few of you who read this would set out
deliberately to violate law. Few would set
out deliberately to make fools of themeslves,
to destroy self-respect, to change their nor
mal behavior to a lower plane. Left to our
selves or left in the right company we should
do pretty well. We should keep on the plane
of self-respecting behavior.
The real test of a man comes when he is
suddenly faced with the opportunity to
make a quick decision. The real test comes
when he must decide whether he will move
with the crowd, which he Ijnows is g«*ing the
wrong way, or whether he will turn and
travel alone.
Perhaps you will object that you do not
know what is the right thing to do. Very
likely you don’t. Few do. But all of us
know what we think is the right thing to do.
All that any of us can be asked to do is
to do- what we think is the right thing.
The Three Guardians of the Soul
By Dr. Frank Crane
THERE are three guardians of the soul.
They are heredity, environment and
habit.
They might be called three flying but
tresses; one rising from the past, heredity;
another from the future, habit; and the
third, environment, from the present; all to
stay the soul.
They are, I believe, popularly considered
as evil things. Naturally! When a man
himself is wrong it is the very best things
in life that seem to harm him most.
When we think of heredity, it is usually of
some contorted form of it, as scrofula, al
coholism, prodigality and the like; when en
vironment is mentioned it suggests only hin
dering, warping, degrading circumstances;
and the habits most talked of are the bad
ones.
But this is all of a piece with the same
human nature that makes newspapers collect
crimes and call it a. record of humanity's
doings, and That makes us read them and
wag our heads over the fact that the world
is goirfg to the doge.
No newspaper could contain the simple list
of the noble, worthy deeds done daily, nei
ther could nor would we it.
Even so these three guardians do a vast
amount, of work that we are not aware of;
because, like all good work, it is unseen.
Take heredity, for instance. Do you real
ize that for centuries k,has been piling up
moral force to put into your blood? The
very best and largest part of whatever good
ness, high ideals, and nobleness of mind you
have, came from your ancestors. It is easy
for you to be decent because for a thousand
years your forefathers strove to be decent.
And the good is tougher than the bad.
The greatest power in righteousness is its
power to outpopulate vice.
Also a large portion of your rectitude is
due to your environment. There are more
good influences, surroundings, customs and
institutions, than bad.
And as for habit, a good habit is as hard
to break as a bad one.
If it were not for our ability to form hab
its, goodness would have no cumulative
force. We should be eternally beginning,
stumbling, fumbling. But because we can. by
effort, get ourselves “into the rut of doing
right.” we can go on in self-improvement.
For the perverted, weak-willed, and seif
pitying these three laws of moral fixity may
be three demons; but for a man that is a
man they are three guardians of the soul.
(Copyright, 1924.)
A visitor said to a little girl: “And what
will you do. my dear, when you are as big
ae your mother?”
“Diet." said th« modern girl.—Tid-Bits,
I.ondon.
his one desire was tn see Miriam, to have it
our with her. and the sooner the better.
Thni-d.n —"You Can’t Get Away With
It!” ’ i
THE COUNTRY HOME
BY MRS. IV. H. FELTON
TUESP AV. APRIL 22, 1”•
cursing and raging about file killing of Lin
coln. He was afraid they would get in the
house. He came to warn me. It was im
possible to realize that the president should
be murdered with Washington City full of
Federal soldiers. I set it down in my mind
that the story was told down at the negro
quarter to cover up some sort of devilment.
A merciful Heavenly Father cared for us
in our helpless condition, but the news was
confirmed during the day. I am glad to
know that the people who were closest to us
were all sorry and regretted the deed. To
come back to Booth’s capture and death in
the late Washington newspaper. Booth tried
to hide in the poor swampy regions across
the Potomac, but the soldiers finally over
heard an aged negro say he hadn’t seen no
body, but there was a sick man, and an
other one, who hired his little wagon to
cross a creek and to reach a place *where
they could get a doctor for the sick man.
The trail was promising, and within two
days the searchers heard that a lame man
and another man were at a farmhouse a few
miles away. They found the farmhouse and
searched it. There was a big barn with con
siderable hay in it, and they surrounded the.
barn. Someone heard whispering inside.
Then the leading officer called Booth by
name and told him the barn was fully sur
rounded and it he did not surrender they
would fire the hay and. finish the job. Booth
did not answer, but the man with him
came to the door and said he would give up,
etc. Then Booth told them he would not
be taken alive, and he had two pistols and
a carbine. In the meantime one of the out
side soldiers had pulled off some weather
boarding and could glimpse Booth in the
hay mow. Someone set a match to the hay,
and the outside fired on Booth, asd the fatal
bullet passed through his shirt collar twice.
By this time the hay was all on fire. Booth
was pulled out and flung some distance. He
was heard to gay something, and a soldier
told it that he Said, “Tell my mother I died
for my country.” His last muttering was,
“Useless! Useless!” His body was hauled to
the river and placed on a passing boat going
toward Washington City. His body was dis
posed of without burial, but how and by
whom was not related, but it is believed that
he was finally flung into the river. '
Because of this fact the word went, around
that he had escaped to a foreign country
and never returned to the United States.
Some said he was seen in Australia and in
other places. It is considered that he was
trapped in the barn and received his mortal
wound as here described. His brother, Ed
win, never visited Washington any more. He
was a great favorite and a fine actor, but
he was heard to say, “No more AVashington”
for him. I am very old now, and I lived
and suffered through the Civil war, but I
feel free to say it was most unfortunate for
the south that Air. Lincoln was thus assas
sinated. I shall always believe, until my
mind is changed after the resurrection, that
Air. Lincoln would have been more humane
and more generous in the matters concerning
the south than any” other northern nrfln who
survived him. It was a bad thing to raise
sectional hate and prejudice to boiling heat.
i All that any of us can be asked to do is
! to do r.s well as we know how.
i You may be a young man or a young
woman reading this. The time will come to
day, tomorrow) perhaps over and over
again, when you must go along with your as
sociates or you must let them go their way
while you go yours. It is not easy. A half
dozen persons, even three or four, create at
mosphere. They give color and reality and
a bill of health to a course of action which
you know in deliberate thought must prove
j to be the wrong course.
Here is where the hard task begins.
Don’t hang any laurels on yourself for
making a good record when you have moral
I support on all sides of you, in front and
I behind you.
Don’t treat yourself to any medals be-
I cause you have satisfied your ideals of
personal conduct when you have been alone.
How have you behaved, what have you
done with your ideals and convictions, when
all the ‘‘good fellows” have been against
you ?
I (Copyright, 1924.)
1 SOLITUDE THE BEST TEACHER
By Dr. Frank Crane
SOLITUDE is bitter medicine, but whole
some. And we can learn to like it.
We are afraid to be alone. But like
most other bugaboos this, too, vanishes
when we approach and handle It.
Solitude consists of me and myself. The
reason we fear it is that ourself is the one
■ person we know the least.
Get acquainted. Practice being aloi .
Our modern life is too cluttered. We are
everlastingly doing something. We chatter,
work, play, and if we have a half hour of
leisure we must fill it with the rattle of a
newspaper. We are prone and helpless
when we have no story to read, no one to
talk to, nothing to do. Wo can not do that
rarest and most fruitful of things—nothing.
Basking is a lost art.
And yet it Is in these moments of silent
brewing of the mind, when we simply stand
still and lot our thoughts rise as they will,
that the deep, creative ideas come to us.
For our best ideas are not those we have
read or heard, but those that have come to
us in quiet, out of the infinite.
The greatest things any man says are
those that have behind them great hours of
silence.
I am the only person I can not get away
I from. It stands me in stead to make my
self as agreeable as possible.
It is a false and ignorant humility that
- says, “I hate myself, that is why I do not
■ want to be alone.” For one hates himself
for precisely the same reason he hates oth-
■ ers; because he is not acquainted.
Learn yourself. Don’t expect impossible
i excellence. You are made up of good and
bad, much as are other folks. Be charitable
jto yourself. The Golden Rule works both
| ways. ‘‘Love yourself as your neighbor.”
I can not tell you all you will learn from
: the practice of solitude. If I could, you
’ would not need to go to solitude to learn it. I
; But you will learn much, many profound
i things that can not be told. Wordsworth
'speaks of
‘‘that inward eye
which is the bliss of solitude.”
And he even goes so far as to say:
“One impulse from the vernal wood
May teach you more of man,
Os moral evil and of good,
Than all the sages can.”
(Copyright, 1924.)
Sparks was arrested for causing a disturb-
I ance in the street during which he struck a
' constable and gave him a black eye.
He was promptly arrested and the next!
i day he appeared before the magistrate.
I “What is your name?” asked his worship.
j “Sparks,” replied the prisoner.
I “And your occupation?”
“An electrician, sir."
> “And what is he chtirced-with?” asked
MY WIFE AND I
BY CAROLYN BEECHER
’A bat has gone before. — Robert Bruce
Henderson, young lawyer, falls victim to
the ••harms of Natalie while on a busi
ness trip to a small western town, and.
marries her at once, without knowing
much about her or her family. Within
two weeks they begin housekeeping in a
New York apartment. Robert's uncle,
for whom he was named, disapproves of
the haste of the wooing and wedding,
but says nothing.— Now go on with the
story.
CHAPTER TV
BUSILY at work, I had not heard the
door open.
“Hello, old man! How are you?”
“Garth!” 1 exclaimed, springing up. “I
thought you were somewhere at the ends of
the earth. When did you get in, and how
are you?”
“Fit as a fiddle. So you’re a benedict? I
expect pride would make you swear to be
ing all right, even if you were the most mis
erable man on earth.”
“Cynical as ever,” I replied as In response
to his invitation we left the office to lunch
together.
“No—but I can't get used to the idea of
your marrying. It’s incongruous—oh, well,
what's done can be undone nowadays, so
here's hoping you'll be happy until that day
arrives.”
“No such day will ever come, so try to
stifle your unholy glee in the thought,” I
said as we entered the restaurant.
Garth Holden, handsome, cynical, rich, had
been my chum in college and we still kept
up our intimacy. I resented his inference
that my marriage would be indefinitely
happy yet was not offended, knowing him
and his fondness for me.
“Why not dine with us tonight?”
“The sooner the better,” he replied. *'l
am anxious to meet the woman who has
taken my place in your heart,” he added
laughingly.
“Nonsense!” I thrilled as I thought of his
surprise when he saw Natalie.
Back in the office I found thoughts of
Natalie intruding upon my work. Garth’s
questions, his quickly aroused interest when
I told of my hasty wooing, had someway dis
turbed me. How little afjer all I knew of
her, the real Natalie, the "inner life of her.
She seemed all amiability and sweetness
but what was she like—really?
With a shrug I bent to my tasks. I was
happy, why question?
I was anxious that Garth should like Nat-
I alie, that they should hit it off together. I
telephoned her I had asked him to dinner.
1 hurried home earlier than usual, sure
that Natalie would want to know more about
Garth before meeting him.
“What's he like?” she asked while she
finished dressing.
“It's hard to describe Garth,” I replied.
“The best fellow in the world, cynical, clev
er, handsome and fairly reeking with money.
He doesn’t believe very strongly- in mar
riage—but we’ll make him change his
mind.”
“A composite picture.” A flicker of in
terest in her eyes. “He doesn’t approve of
your marrying me.” It was not a question.
“He will after he sees you.”
“Flatterer,” she returned just as Garth
arrived.
She greeted him charmingly. I noticed a
slight lifting of his brows, a, trick he had
when surprised. She had aroused his inter
est at once.
She wore a soft clinging dress of an in
describable color like pale moonlight. It was
i daring in cut but became her wonderfully.
She wore no ornament save a lavalllere, a
single large diamond hung from a slender
platinum thread, my wedding gift. Her
dark hair piled high on her small head add
ed height and grace. I was very full of
pride as I saw the impression she made.
Garth admired the rooms, the furnishings.
“Natalie's taste,” I told him.
The dinner was delicious and as he was
[Something of a trencherman 1 watched his
admiration grow.
After dinner we played cards, a three- 1
handed game of poker. Natalie won and it
added to her gaiety. She fairly scintillated.
“You have met Bruce's uncle, of course,”
Garth remarked. “A delightful man.”
“Yes, but he doesn’t like me,” she replied.
Again Garth lifted his brows. Uncle’s
home had been open to him always and a
real affection existed between them.
“Natalie imagines uncle doesn’t like her,” ,
I broke in. “He is lonely, misses me, and is
more quiet than usual, but I tell her that as
soon as he knows her he will love her.”
“Os course he can’t be expected to act as
impulsively as Bruce did,” Garth smiled at
Natalie. “But he is a wonderfully kind and
—just man.”
Natalie made a little moue.
“That means he will like me if I deserve
it?” she queried, then spoke of something
else, giving him no chance to reply.
It was midnight when Garth left.
“We shall expect you to make, this your
second home,” I told him. I had insisted
they call each other by their given names.
“Good night, Natalie.” He bent over her
hand with courtly grace.
“Good night, Garth.” She flashed him a
look that 1 never had seen in her eyes be
fore, a look I could not analyze.
“Well, what do you think of Garth?” I
asked as the door closed after him.
“I don’t know—l think he Is—lnterest
ing.” Stifled a yawn.
1 was disappointed. She hadn’t cared for
my friend.
Continued Thursday. Yon will find this
nc’.v story by .Miss Beecher to he e\e ? n better
than “A AA'oman Obsessed” or “Her Afoney.”
MY' FAVORITE STORIES.
BY Irvin S. Cobb
“Honey,” said the loving wife, "It 1 should
die before you do will you promise to keep my
grave green?”
“Don't bn morbid,” answered her husband.
'AA hat s the use of talking about anybody’s
dying? You look pretty husky to me.”
He buried his nose again in his paper. He
was reading something very interesting and
ho didn’t, want to be disturbed.
'Des, I know, dear,” she interrupted again
after a minute nr two, taking up the thread
of the conversation where it had been broken
off, “but I want to be sure that my last rest
ing place will not be neglected. You might
g t married again or something, and forget
me.”
“Huh?” he grunted, absent-mindedly, without s
looking up.
'I say, I don’t want to be forgotten. I
ouldn t bear the thought of that. I sup
pose it s because I'm so sensitive —because 1
have so rum h temperament. Darting, you
are positive you’ll konp green?”
“Uh, huh.”
“.'.'•■l!, that'- a great consolation. Only, I'd
like to have you say it with more feelins.
I’re'ious, are you absolutely certain you’ll keep
my—”
“Hannah,” shouted the pestered man, cast
ing his paper from him, “I’ll keep that dad
gummed grave of yours green if I have to
plant it!”
(Copyright, 1924.)
tho magistrate, turning to the constable.
“Batter.’ , your worship,” was the answer.
The macistrafe looked rather astonished,
but never’helevc he commanded in stern
tones:
“Officer, put this prisoner in a dry cell.”