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juITTLE MISS FIXIT,
Care Tri-Weekly Journal,
Atlanta, Georgia.
A BIBLE THOUGHT FOR TODAY
Ask, and it shall be given you; seek,
and ye shall find; knock, and it shall
be opened unto you; for every one that
asketh receiveth; and he that sceketh
findeth; and to him that knocketh, it shall
be opened. Or what man is there of you,
whom if his son ask bread, will he give
him a stone? Or if he ask a fish, will
he give him a serpent? If ye then, being
evil, know how to give good gifts unto
your children, how much more shall you?
Father who is in heaven give good things
to them that ask him? —Matthew 7:7-11.
I
Mr. Coolidge s Dilemma
TiIK dropping of Daugherty, after the
scandal of keeping him grew Insup
portable, leaves President Coolidge be
tween the reactionary devil and the “pro
gressive'’ deep blue sea. Time was when he
hoped to make terms with both of those
contrary elements. As heir to Normalcy he
counted upon the forces which render the
Republican party a traditional stronghold
of privilege; while as a newcomer he was
free to bid the insurgents to court In his
first expectation he was correct. To whom i
else, indeed, could the entrenched politicians j
turn? But as for the insurgents, his most !
enticing sops left, them unmoved. The La j
Follettes and Hi Johnsons cared as much |
I
for White House invitations to Mayflower
luncheons as balking mules would for “Son
nets from the Portugese.”
More and more evident, did it become that
Mr. Coolidge's hope of nomination rested
with the Bourbons; and as they controlled
the party machinery and patronage, there
was the best of reasons why their fiat was
likely to prevail. On sundry grounds they
welcomed the taciturn New Englander. He
was politically clean, he was unencumbered
by promises', and he had the generous good
will of the country’s rank and file. So mat
ters stood on the eve of those startling dis
closures. of graft and scoundrelism such as
have been, laid bare in no other administra
tion since the hapless Grant's. The test had
come, and it was indeed crucial.
Among the shrewd and potent politicians
looking after the President's future was his
Attorney General, whom outsiders rightly
considered the heaviest personal liability
taken over from the Harding regime. Mr.
Daugherty had been appointed in the first
instance not for legal learning and talent,
but for his political Usefulness —and that
was the only conceivable reason for his be
ing retained. As the oil scandal widened
and deepened, observers would say, “Al last
th* President will be quit of Daugherty.” it
was assumed that he would resign as Denby
did, who was to be pitied though censured.
But this Attorney General was not to be
stirred by so slight a thing as the admin
istration's embarrassment or the appeal of
th* party’s Senate leaders that he retire.
What though he was incapacitated to pros-
i
ecute the oil fraud cases in which he him
self had been named a defendant? What
though the cloud continually darkened about
him as witness followed witness? Harry
AL Daugherty was not so thin-skinned a vet
eran of politics as to flinch under such an on
set! What the White House was thinking
the while is easy enough to imagine. But
the significant, the exceedingly significant
thing 1s that not until Mr. Daugherty's at
titude became so insufferably brazen that
public opinion was rising in revolt, did the
White House demand his resignation.
That the “Ohio crowd." headed by the
ousted attorney general, will do its utmost
ly and cheerfully see
that things are made
right..
We want every sub
scriber to get The Tri-
Weekly Journal reg
ularly and punctual- i
ly. We want all of
them to receive what
they have paid for.
We want only satis
fied subscribers. A
small percentage of
errors are unavoid
able, but we want to
correct them quickly.
Address,
TUR ATLANTA TRI WEEKLY .JOURNAL
to make trouble for the President —to the
extent, if that be possible, of defeating him
for the nomination —is now forecast. Says
i 1
so friendly an adviser as the New York
Journal of Commerce: “President Coolidge
has but one alternative —that, namely, of i
cutting loose from all the various political I
groups and leaving his nomination to the
public. If he can gain his own consent to
that action it will unquestionably he the
wisest step, politically speaking, that he ever
took. The public certainly wants a coura
geous, single-minded representative in Wash
ington.” But, the Journal of Commerce in
sists, L.e must shirk no issue, no responsi
bility; he must “clean house from top to
bottom, abandoning the present policy of
waiting until a man is impossible before
dropping him.” Then comes this query:
“Have we in President Coolidge a Daniel
come to judgment or is it necessary to go
out and find one? Beyond any question the
rank and file of the people would like to
find in the Executive the ‘strong, silent’
man that has been painted for them by
by friendly publicists. Today they are
doubting Thomases and they want to get
some unmistakable evidence of the reality
of the individual whom hitherto they have
merely seen in a glass darkly. Will Presi
dent Coolidge give them some convincing ;
evidence of his desire and disposiiton to
serve as a real representative of the people, i
throwing off the shackles of the discredited '
old guard at the same time that he refuses i
to sound the loud trumpet of progressive !
appeal to the unthinking?”
But will it suffice merely to cry “a plague (
o’ both your houses” to the reactionaries and s
to what our Northeastern contemporary is <
pleased to term “the progressive trumpet for
i
the unthinking?” Independence is assuredly i
a virtue, but it must be independence in the
i
service of something worth while. For what <
constructive ends does Mr. Coolidge stand,
beyond income tax revision? What does he ;
mean to do toward providing the United
States with a sonable and honorable for
eign policy in place of lhe present absurd
and truly disgraceful makeshifts? What
does he mean to do in the matter of the !
Fordney-McCumber tariff, enacted in defi
ance of law and continually becoming more
onerous? What does he mean to do byway
of establishing a sound, effectual system of
conservation for America’s natural resources
in order that the treacheries and intrigues
of which an inner circle of his own party
now stands convicted, may never again be
possible?
To Republican politicians both in the reac
tionary and in the insurgent clan such ques- i
tions may seem . 1 no consequence. But to
the country's common weal they are all im
portant.
General Julian S. Carr
IN the death of General Julian S. Carr
on Wednesday, in Chicago, the ranks
of the Confederate veterans lose a be- :
loved member and the South one of its out
standing figures. He was a man whose kind
ness of heart and services to his old comrades
and to his daily associates were conspicu
ous; his loss will be keenly felt.
The wonder and admiration of the world
has been the courage and success of the
men who fought in the armies of the Con- |
federacy when, amid the ruins of their for
tunes and their homes, they faced the new ;
conditons under which, by the verdict of
a lost war, they were to encounter the fu- ,
ture. The war covered* four years; the later i
struggle has covered half a century, and the
splendid South of today is evidence that
they brought from the battlefield and Ap
pomattox an unconquered and unconquer
able spirit. In the front rank of the South’s 1
i
rebuilders was Julian S. Carr. Animated
by the spirit and illustrating the resource
and adaptability which gave to history the ,
man in gray as the greatest soldier of all
<
times, he threw himself into the new con- ,
flict with undiminished ardor and won a
great victory, to the enjoyment of which '
Providence spared him many years. Now,
in the ripeness of those years he passes on
to th ebivouac of the immortal Lee and
Jackson and the men who followed their
flags, leaving a memory fragrant with good
deeds and a shield untarnished. Green be
the sod above him; peaceful his slumber
o the great reveille.
PUNGENT PARAGRAPHS
Lots of people go around hunting tempta
tions to avoid.—Worcester Post.
Mud may be good for the complexion— j '
but consider the alligator—Miami Daily i
News.
The man who brags too much that he '
runs things about his house may refer to |
the washing machine. —Bridgeport Tele
gram.
No man should judge his new neighbors [
by the way their furniture looks on a mov
ing van.—Oklahoma City Times.
Shingled hair may be more popular now,
but you will remember that Samson brought
down the house when he let his grow out. — i
Baltimore Sun.
Building a character is a hard job. but j
at least it saves the trouble of thinking up
alibis.—Vancouver Sun.
We would have the measure of Adam's
repentance if we knew -how many apple
trees he planted after leaving the garden.
—Dubuque Times Journal. i
SLANDER
BY HAZEL DEYO BACHELOR
What has gone before.—Miriam Fol
well, a young business woman, has an
episode in her life which, although in
nocent, has caused scandal. She has
■ almost forgotten it when, a year later,
she becomes engaged to Anthony Breen,
and then out of the past comes a woman
who knows all about the escapade and
proceeds to make trouble. Anthony be
lieves the worst, condemns her and then
offers to marry her anyway. Miriam,
with her dream over, refuses, and al
though Anthony tries to get in touch
with her, she avoids seeing him.—Now
go on with the story. '
CHAPTER Nl.lf
Bitterness
DURING this period in her life it seemed
to Miriam that she was experiencing a
horrible kind of nightmare. She went
through her days mechanically. She felt
dazed, and always there lurked in the back
ground a misery so stark that she dared
not face it.
Mr. Carson had been highly considerate.
He had asked no questions nor had he made
any comment when she told him that she
would continue with the firm. But shrewd
man of the world that he was, he knew with
out asking that something had happened to
Miriam; something serious enough to sub
due her radiance and sap her enthusiasm,
and mentally he called Anthony Breena
fool.
“A cold-blooded aristocrat,” ran his
thoughts, “and he's hurt that girl horribly.”
It was then that he thought of sending
Miriam abroad, as had been originally
planned. The trip would do her good, and
she would return with a firm grip on herself,
and the suffering she was enduring now
dulled by time.
Miriam responded eagerly to his sugges
tion. Yes, she could get ready to leave at
once. She would like to go as soon as possi
ble. And so the plans were rushed through,
and she spent her days in such a whirl that
her unhappiness was less acute than it would
have been if she had had more time to
brood. She was determined not to see An
thony. She appreciated the danger of his
charm, and, although she realized now that
she would never find happiness with him, she
■was afraid of what might happen if he
should take her in his arms.
There were times when the thought of
never seeing him again was like a knife
thrust in her heart. Every time the tele
phone rang she trembled, and on that last
night when he had come to the apartment
she had broken down under the strain of
•not admitting him.
When the bell had pealed through the
apartment she had sat tense and rigid in the
living room. Her fingers dug into the up
holstery with the effort to keep still, and at
last, when she could bear it no longer, she
had gone into the hall to be nearer to him.
It was then that she faced her fiercest temp
tation. Only the door separated them, and
she had only to throw it open to see his
face, to feel his arms about her and his lips
on hers.
Why not see him, just this once? Surely
it would do no harm to say good-by to him?
But the very fierceness of her desire to see
him was a warning to her, and she knew*
that she must resist the temptation. After
tonight it would be easier. This was the
final test. And so she had slipped to the
floor and had crouched there weeping bit
terly until his footsteps had retreated down
the stairs. Then, with all her senses
numbed with pain, she had struggled to her
feet and, returning to the living room, had
forced herself to go on packing.
Tomorrow she would be on the ocean. To
morrow she would be away from all this, and
some time, some time in the far distant fu
ture she would cease to suffer as she was
suffering now. She tried to tell herself all
this as she continued to fold her things and
lay them in the trunk, but the outlook was
intensely dreary. With the passing of An
thony had gone more than Miriam cared to
consider. It seemed to the girl that she had
lost faith in mankind; that she would never
again trust any one, for her illusions were
dead. As for love, why, the very idea of
such a thing was absurd. Love between a
man and a woman was as fictitious as the
proverbial fairy tale and the idea of “living
happily forever after.”
Continued Tuesday. Renew your sub
scription now to avoid missing a chapter of
this splendid story.
QUIZ
Any Tri-Weekly Journal reader can
. get, the answer to any question puzzling
him by writing to The Atlanta Journal
Information Bureau, Frederic J. Has
kin, director, Washington, I). C., and In
closing a two-cent .stamp for return
postage. DO NOT SEND IT TO OUR
ATLANTA OFFICE.
Q. How many miles of railroad has Brit
ish South Africa? D. O. D.
A. There are about 11,000 miles of rail
way, all narrow gauge, and last year 61,-
581,447 passengers were carried.
Q. How much newsprint is used in the
United States? B. F.
A. During 1 922 the high record was set
for consumption of newsprint in this coun
try, when approximately 21,800,000 tons of
paper fed the presses of newspapers and
magazines.
Q. How did the “minutemen” get the
name? A. H. A.
A. Civilians in Massachusetts and several
other colonies, at the approach of the Rev
olutionary war, pledged themselves to be
ready to take the field at a minute's no
tice, and were therefore called “minutemen.”
Q. Is there a white mahogany? J. M.
A. White mahogany, or Prima Vera, is a
Mexican tree belonging to the family Big
noniaceae. Lt attains a height of 50-75 feet
and has a diameter of four feet.
Q. What per cent of the people in this
country live to be sixty-five years of age?
W. J. T.
A. According to the census of 1920, 4.7
per cent of the population is composed of
persons who are sixty-five years of age or
older.
Q. Was Mozart buried in a pauper's grave?
F. G. T.
A. Mozart died of malignant typhoid. The
funeral service was held in the open air as
was the custom with the poorest class.
The strictest economy was observed in the
funeral arrangements. Mozart was buried in
a common pauper’s grave, the site of which
was soon forgotten. Vienna erected on the
probable spot, a handsome monument.
Q. Who said. “God reigns and the gov
ernment at Washington lives?” S. L.
A. James Garfield used the expression in
a speech in 1865 when addressing an ex
cited crowd on the occasion of Lincoln's as
sassination.
Q. How did the idea of an eagle as an
emblem originate? When did America adopt
it? L. B. W.
A. From the most ancient times the eagle
has been universally regarded as the emblem
of might and courage. It was associated
with Jupiter in Roman mythology and its
figure on the standards of certain Roman le
gions has descended to the national ensigns
of the United States, Germany and Russia.
The eagle was adopted by, the United States
in 1783.
Q. When was the first carpet mill started
in this country? H. E. A.
A. The first mill of this sort was started
by William Peter Sprague in Philadelphia in
1791.
' the country home
BY MRS. IK H. FELTON
THE WORLD “STANDS DRESSED IN
LIVING GREEN”
va 11 E springtime was late in arriving this
year. The Easter date was much later
than usual. We, in North Georgia,
have "been hugging the fire” because there
were raw winds, while the sun was shining.
But Dame Nature decided to make the
usual hurrah on time, and every little blade
of grass chirped "We are doing our level
best!” It is a marvel that never grows
stale—the vim and energy of the little
plants and the weeds come across with
alacrity also to decorate the world anew as
this old planet in its orbit begins to circle
around the sun.
April has nearly finished its allotted
time. Inside of a week April closes its
doors and shuts up shop, while May puts
on a thinner robe, but decorates with
countless flowers.
As I sat on my front porch this fore
noon and looked at the beautiful hills that
fringed the horizon—lovely with the ver
dure of spring—I could not help saying:
“Oh, what a beautiful world there is about
and around us” —and the “living green” is
the chosen color of the Creator in every
vista or landscape spread out before the
eyes of humankind. The last April shower
washed every growing thing—in trees and
gardens—until the beauty ' and freshness
were universal.
If we would only stop to scan the pic
tures that Nature thus paints for our sat
isfaction and instruction, we would be bet
ter folks in mind and spirit. The world,
in springtime, shows the hand of the Great
Architect, and the tender green Is restful
to the eye and also tender in its exquisite
coloring.
WE TRAVEL FASTER AND GET MORE
TRAVEL LUXURY
I remember well my first acquaintance
with a Pullman sleeping car. The Civil war
stopped in April, 1865, but railroad travel
was rough and risky for several months.
As I iecollect, it was as late as October in
that year when the advent of a sleeping
car, in the city of Atlanta, was an event
less exciting than grand opera, but still im
portant enough for people to go to see in
great numbers.
I was one of the visitors, and I took It
all in. I was too young to have traveled
much before I married at 18, and the care
of my little children kept me at home in
SUICIDE
By Dr. Frank Crane
( v AM an old man, over seventy,” writes a
man from Nebraska to me. “I own a
nice little farm and am financially
well fixed, yet I am very much dissatisfied.
On account of poor health and home trouble,
life seems a burden to me. -Suicide is upper
most in my mind. I cannot get rid of it,
much as I try, yet the idea is horrible to
me. My greatest trouble is poor sleep.”
He wants me to tell him something that will
help him. Alas! would that I could! I know
too well, however, that every man’s cure is
in his own hands. The squl is never freed
from its meshes of misery except by its own
efforts.
Suicide? It is the negation of the love of
life. Whatever one says of life one says also
of suicide, which is the opposite of life.
The object of all my preachment is to
strengthen and make grow in health the life
instinct. All I have ever written is an anti
dote for suicide.
I want men to love the sun and the sea,
little children and animals, each other and
women. So long as one loves one wants to
live, even if it’s only a pipe and a glass.
It is when all other desires die out that the
desire for death; which is hut the ash of de
sire, remains on the heart’s hearthstone.
To cure my man I would give him some
thing to love, even a dog.
Again suicide is a species of insanity, in
this, that the mind is obsessed by one idea;
it is, so to speak, driven into a corner by
some one trouble or group of troubles; it is
at bay, it cannot escape. And the situation
is peculiarly aggravated when one cannot
sleep, for sleep is the greatest of all cities of
refuge.
The only known way of escaping a haunting
idea is by diversion, that is, by occupying
one’s self with something else. The suicidal
mania is the paralysis of one’s power to
change the subject. It is the abnormal,
diseased, fevered condition of one's power to
concentrate the mind.
If possible, therefore (1) work, work hard
at something you ought to do, work until
very tired; (2) play, at anything you can be
absorbed in, games of cards, preferably out
door amusements, such as fishing, hunting,
golf, but whatever it is play hard and until
exhausted; (3) go away, break up the reg
ularity of life, in which the absorbing idea
has got itself intrenched, plunge into the
whirlpool of the city, or into the adventures
of the wilderness, don’t sit and die “like a
poisoned rat in a hole.”
Just what is the right thing to do, you will
never know. All you can do is to come as
near to it as you can. Examine your heart.
Find what you love, or can love. Give your
self to it.
Above all, seek to develop the highest, keen
est form of love known, that is, the desire to
make some one else happy. Develop this de
sire. indulge it, devote your mind, time, and
substance to it. For it is the most life-giving
sentiment a human being can have.
Set about making the little children of your
place happy, even some one little child. Hunt
up the wretched, the down-and-out, the failures
in your community, and undertake to help
them, to be a friend to them, not only to give
them your money, but your attention. If it
bores you keep it up till you learn to like It.
This is the best known method of curing the
obessed soul of its mania. It is better to hunt
souls than lions.
For after all suicide is the climax of selfish
ness, it is self-attention, self-pity, self-study,
brought to the point of fever.
Quit thinking of yourself. Think of others.
Only so can the sore self become sane and
sound.
‘‘Sterne says that if he were in a desert
he would love some cypress,” writes Shelly.
‘‘So soon as the want of power to love is dead
man becomes the living sepulchre of him
self. . . , What is love? Ask him who
lives in this life?”
QUIPS AND QUIDDITIES
The young and newly appointed reporter
was very keen on his job. He was deter
mined to make good, and no effort was too
much for him if only he could get “copy”
for his paper. Every morning he went to
certain places where he knew there was a
likelihood of getting some tit-bit of infor- I
mation.
Among the place to which he paid daily
visits was the railway office.
"Anything fresh this morning?” asked the
young man of the clerk in charge on the
last occasion on which he called. “Yes,”
replied the other laconically.
"V\ hat is it?” asked the reporter, whip- '
ping out his notebook.
"That paint you’re leaning against.” |
The railway clerk is now in hospital and
the reporter in prison.
SATURDAY, W 3, ID2J.
their babyhood, but I had traveled enough
on railroads to remember some long nights
where the effort to sleep was more than
difficult.
The sleeping arrangements of the Pull
man cars appealed to me with more than
usual interest. . Nevertheless the improve
ments have been steady and continuous,
until the experienced traveler utilizes the
sleeping privileges and can occupy the day
light hours with great success.
My mind goes back to the stage coaches
which were the very best for travelers until
I got into my teens, that Georgia could
offer to the people, who were able to pay
' the 15-cent a mile rate. There were only
! three seats inside, and by crowding nine
i grown people could be fairly comfortable
i inside during the daytime. But the night
! watches were long and only those slept
; soundly who would sleep anywhere, with
out regard to the discomfort of their fellow
j travelers. Unless the moon was full and
i the skies bright, there was no light beyond
' the stage lamps, near the driver’s seat.
; Train oil was the fuel for the lamps. There
| was a steady run of ten miles, with four
i well-groomed horses. Even that moderate
I run was excessively straining on these stage
' horses. A mile away the stage driver
would blow his horn, and the hostlers at
the stage stand must bring forth the fresh
ones and be ready to clap the harness on
them. Thus it went on, day and night,
from Nashville, Tenn., to Augusta, Ga., a
route that I was acquainted with in my
childhood. As I recollect, there was only
one stage coach per day—perhaps there
might have been one going and one com
ing within twenty-four hours. Bridgse were
not plentiful, but there were ferry boats
on rivers and the creeks were waded across,
except in times of high water and in flood
seasons. Then everything was “water
bound.” These stage coaches carried the
big mail sacks. AM the outside news had
to come that way. There were few news
papers, all weekly sheets. We had a post
office at my father’s store. The good-na
tured, uneducated rural folks would gather
and hear him read the headlines, and there
were only occasional letters—lo cents post
age.
To compare eighty years ago with our
mail facilities in 1924, it seems strange we
did not get a move on us, promptly.
It was the railroads that worked the
change, and we should always give the
credit where credit is due.
FORGOTTEN FLIGHTS
By H. Addington Bruce
OF interest psychologically and socially
as well as medically, and of com
moner occurrence than would be sup
posed, is the phenomenon to which the
name of fugue has been given. Its charac
ter may be best indicated by citing an illus
trative instance.
This instance was narrated to me by the
fugue victim himself. Ordinarily a man who
left alcohol severely alone, there were times
when a craving for it took possession of
him. He would then drink until he became
During one of these periodical debauches
he disappeared. Nothing was heard of him
for several days, when word came that he
had been seen in a distant city. A friend
went there, found him, and brought him
home, in an exhausted and almost stupor
ous condition.
Questioned later, he had not the least
recollection of having been away. It be
came evident that, without conscious knowl
edge of what he was doing, he had bought
a ticket for the city 'where he was found,
had journeyed thither, and had wandered
about until seen my some one who knew
Jiim.
This is a typical fugue, or to give it a
name more readily understood, forgotten
flight. The man who figured in it is only
one of numerous ’ drinkers who have simi
larly gone roaming without being aware
of the roaming—and, for that matter, with
out behaving during the roaming in such
away as to cause others to suspect that
they do not know what they are doping.
Ordinarily what happens is thal a day
comes when, suddenly or after a night s
sleep, the state responsible for the fugue
passes away, and they discover to their
amazement and alarm that they are far
’ from home. The days intervening since
they left home are a blank to them, and
usually remain lost to memory.
Nor is it only under the influence of al
cohol that fugues may occur. They are
known to result occasionally from a physi
cal injury—such as a fall or a blow caus
ing head injury. Sometimes they are in
cidental to epilepsy, an irresistible impulse
to wander, with forgetfulness of identity,
taking the place of an ordinary epileptic at
tack. A fugue thus caused was reported
from a Canadian town only the other day,
i the victim wandering to Terre Haute, Ind.
i Or, again, fugues may occur to persons
; who, without being either epileptics or al
; coholics, have been subjected to some se
vere emotional stress. In fact, there is
reason for believing that the great majority
of fugues thus originate, and represent
I what psychologists call defense reactions.
Because of an inborn or acquired inahil
i ity to endure the strain of a great grief,
disappointment or other psychic shock,
there is loss of self-awareness coupled with
an intense desire to get away bodily as well
; as physically from the scene of the emo
! tional stress.
Departure follows, under an assumed
| name, and a new life is begun in some
more or less remote place. The new life
may continue for a few days, a few weeks,
or, in exceptional cases, for years. After
which, as in fugues due to alcohol, epilepsy,
■ or injury, there is a sudden return to aware
ness of the old life and the true identity.
It is all very mysterious—often very sad,
particularly when, during the fugue state,
acts chance to be done causing legal com
plications. Recognition of the fact that
there are suh things as fugues thus be
comes doubly important.
(Copyright, 1924)
MY FAVORITE STORIES
By Irvin S. Cobb
To a married man—and it doesn’t make
any difference how long he has been married, I
either—the workings of the female mind are
puzzling.
Nearly everybody is acquainted—or should ’
be—with the little tale of the husband who
was describing to his friend the result of a
difference of opinion with the estimable
woman who bore his name and shared his
lot.
“I believe in give and take,” he said; “we
started out that way at the beginning and '
we’ve always kept it up.”
“How does the system work?” Inquired
his friend, who was a bachelor.
"Oh, bully. Now, for instance, here a few 1
months ago we were going to buy some new j
draperies for the dining room. She wanted
silk; and I wanted chintz. Well, we talke l ;
it over and finally compromised.”
“Compromised on what?”
“Oh—on silk.”
There is another yarn vaguely related to '
the foregoing little chapter out of the do- j
mestic life of a happily wedded pair.
Mr. Smith comes home with furrows of,
care in his hrow.
“Mary,” he says, ‘‘the way bills keep pil-
MY WIFE AND I
BY CAROLYN BEECHER >
What has gone before —Robert Bruc* i
j Henderson, young lawyer, falls victim to ,
the charms of Natalie while on a business f
I trip and marries her at once, without
knowing much about her or her family. ■
I They begin housekeeping in a New York
apartment. Robert’s uncle, for whom ho
t was named, disapproves of the haste of ;
the wooing dnd wedding, but says nothing. 1
i Garth Holden, handsome and wealthy col*
• lege chum of Robert, dines with. them,
j Natalie appears not to fancy him, but
shows a decided liking for Ned Church,
i a friend of Bruce’s, who is pretty much y
I of a male flirt. Bruce returns late at night ■
j. from a trip. Natalie reaches home later,
j —Now go on with the story.
CHAPTER IX
AS the man turned so the street light 11*
lumined his face I started with surprise.
Ned Church! The interior of the car
was lighted, Jessie Was not with them.
We had seen little of Jessie and Ned. Jes
sie had been ill and I had used her illness
as an excuse for not intruding upon them,
although Ned had continued their Sunday
luncheons regardless of her indisposition.
Natalie had agreed with me that it was bad
form to go under the circumstances; to my
knowledge she hadn’t seen Ned excepting
when we had happened to run into him at
the theater or some dancing place.
As she turned into the doorway I returned
to the bedroom, picked up my book and p
tended to be reading. She would tell me
about it. I would not let her know I had seen
them.
“Home, old dear,” she called as she opened
the hall door. I had forgotten that I had
turned up the night light when I came in.
I went to meet her, taking her into my
arms and kissing her fondly.
“I thought you never would come. I have
been here since midnight,” I told her. “I
would have looked you up if I had the leaat
idea where you were.”
“Did you have a succ-?sful trip?” sh*
asked as she took off her wrap. I gave an
involuntary gasp of admiration. She had on
a new gown, a stunning affai” in misty green,
cut daringly low as were all her evening
gowns.
“Like it?” she turned to me laughingly.
“You are lovely,” I replied. “But why th*
gorgeousness?”
“Why not? Why have clothes and not wear
them?”
It was on my tongue to say I could not
afford any more clothes at present but instea'd
I said:
“Why not, indeed? It looks, like a French
model.”
“It is,” she returned demurely. She named
the most exclusive modiste of them all and—
the most expensive. Still I made no objec
tion. I would say nothing to annoy her, to
prevent a confidence.
But she said nothing anent her evening, her
escort.
“Did Garth show up?” I finally asked.
“Os course! He took me to the theater last
night,” She yawned. “I am dead for sleep,”
she added, and went to bed. I did likewise
but long after she slept I lay thinking, wish
ing I had asked her where she had been, with
whom she had been. I raised on my elbow,
I would ask her now, but she was sleeping
so soundly, she looked so lovely in the dim
light of the night lamp, that I hadn’t the
heart to wake her.
“Now tell me what you did the rest of the
time I was away,” I said at breakfast. “Garth
took you out one night? What about last
night?”
"Now you’re questioning me,” she said
with a delicious pout. And at once referred
to something in the paper she held.
"lou can't blame me for being interested
in what you did while I was away,” I re
i torted, stung by her reply.
“If you must know I dined at the Mor
tons and afterward we went out to dance.”
Mrs. Morton, a silly frivolous woman with
whom Natalie had become acquainted at a
modiste’s shop, I disliked immensely and h €,>
husband, whom Natalie had insisted upon my
meeting, still more.
“Don’t look so cross. I like them both,,
they are awfully good sports and I am never
dull with them.”
“Were you their only guest?”
“Curiosity—thy name is man,” she re
turned laughingly. “Yes, I was so honored.”
Again 1 hesitated. Should I question her
further? Was she keeping aft mention of
Ned Church from the conversation to tease,
to punish me, or had she some ulterior mo
tive?
She commenced .to talk of other things
and I lost my chafice unless I baldly Intro
duced the subject again. I was late already
and uncle would be anxious to hear my re
port.
It was not until I was buried under th*
work that had accumulated on my desk
ing my absence that I could dismiss thej®?
eident from my mind. That, and the
ness with which greeted my rev
turn.
“We have decided, Bruce,” Uncle Robert
said while we were lunching together, “to
make you a junior partner. I am getting
old and Hancock agrees with me that you
deserve now to be taken into the firm as an
active member.”
I was enormously pleased. I knew It
would happen some day but had not expect
ed it so soon. I thanked him, -telling him
so and adding that I would try to warrant
the confidence placed in me.
I have no doubts where you are con
cerned,” he replied. Then bluntly, “Are you
living within your income, Bruce?”
“Why— not quite,” I stammered, taken
aback by the suddenness of the question.
“But I had saved something, you know.”
When I lived with him befare my marriage
i my expenses had been comparatively small.
Clothes, my clubs and money for entertain-,
ing my friends occasionally comprised my
expenditures.
“You should have been able to live with
out touching your savings. I am afraid
Natalie is extravagant.” It was not said in
a censorious way.
“She is artistic, loves beautiful clothes and
things for the apartment,” I confessed. “I >
have hated to deprive her.”
“I see.” He changed the subject.
That night I could hardly wait to get
home to tell Natalie my news.
Cont inued I uesday. Renew your subserfp.
tion now to avoid missing a chapter of this
line story.
Perhaps the Albanians are taking it out on >
all Americans because Harry F. Sinclair re
fused to be their king.—Buffalo Evening
News. f
Actress What will it cost to get my di
vorce?
Lawyer If you’ll agree to let me handle all
your divorce suits for the next twelve years
I 11 make you special terms. —London Mail.
ing up is scandalous. We’re spending more
than I make. We’ve got to cut expenses to
the bone—both of us—if we expect to make
ends meet at the end of the year. W’e’ve
got to make persona] sacrifices, starting with
the little things and going all along the line.
Now, what would you suggest?”
Mrs. Smith ponders a moment.
“I'll tell you how we’ll begin,” she says,,
brightly then: “you shave yourself—and I’ll
cut your hair.”
(Copyright, 192 4.)