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A BIBLE THOUGHT FOR TODAY
For though I be absent in the fleshi
yet I am with you. in the spirit, joying
and beholding your order, and the
steadfastness of your faith in Christ. As
ye have therefore received Christ Jesus the
Lord, so walk ye in Him, rooted and built
up in Him and stablished in the faith, as
ye have been taught, abounding therein
with thanksgiving. Beware lest any man
spoil you through philosophy and vain de
ceit, after the tradition of men, after the
rudiments of the world, and not after
Christ . . in whom are hid all the treas-
ures of wisdom and knowledge.—From
the Letter of Paul to the Collossians
1:5-8:3. r
Incompetent and Corrupt
IF every American voter would read with
an open mind the arraignment of the
present Washington administration by
the New York World in its issue of June
6, it is doubtful that the Republican na
tional ticket in the forthcoming elections
would carry a single state. Certainly no
normal citizen can ponder ths counts in
this indictment, every one of which rests
on legal evidence or confession, without a
surge of wrath that public trusts should
have been so shamefully betrayed by spoils
men and grafters high in the counsels of the
administration, while its respectable mem
bers looked impotently on. Nothing hereto
fore unknown to the public is now dis
closed by the World, and nothing is charged
upon heresay. But the cycle of corruption
is depicted with deadly truth, from the time
Republican bosses began spending their
eight-million-dollar campaign fund four
years ago, on to the eve of the Cleveland
convention, when the “Massachusetts Calvin
Coolidge Finance Committee” announces
“There is no limit to the amount an indi
vidual may give.”
Were the administration’s record scrupu
lously clean in matters of governemntal
business, still it would stand condemned of
having set the lowest ideals and the most
materialistic standards within half a cen
tury of federal politics. Elected upon ap
peals to reactionary interest, it has coddled
national selfishness and has repudiated the
heroic faith for which Americans poured out
their treasure and blood in the World War.
But hear the World's indictment:
“This Administration stands accused of
dishonesty, charged that in the person of
Forbes the disabled veteran was betrayed,
in the person of Fall the public property was
looted, in the person of Daugherty justice
was corrupted. It is accused of shielding
dishonesty, as demonstrated by the support
of Newberry and the inexcusable delay and
reluctance in dismissing Forbes and Daugh
erty. 'lt is accused of obstructing investiga
tion, of resisting exposure and of lending aid
and comfort to dishonest men. It is ac
cused of permitting its agents to terrorize
public officials in their pursuit of wrong, by
the use of spies against Senators LaFollette,
Caraway and Walsh, culminating in the at
tempted frame-up of Wheeler. Finally, the
respectable members of this Administration
are charged with slackness in preventing
wrongs committed by their associates in the
Cabinet, with timidity and partisanship in
failing to assist their exposure, with com
placency resulting in a bad moral example
for failing io condemn publicity and un
equivocally the dishonesty they have wit
nessed; and it is charged that, however
honest they may be personally, they are
neither vigilant enough nor courageous
enough nor possessed of sufficiently stern
standards of public duty to justify any con
fidence that they could prevent in the fu
ture the dishonesty they did not prevent in
the past.”
The Republican majority that delayed for
two and a half years the Senate’s considera
tion of the Newberry ease, and that finally
voted to sustain the defendant, even while
it condemned his defense, could hardly be
expected to recoil at any instance of corrup
tion. Truman H. Newberry, whose election
THE ATLANTA TRI-WEEKLY JOURNAL
to the Senate from Michigan involved the
spending of a quarter of a million dollars in
his behalf, was sentenced to two years’ im
prisonment, from which he was saved by a
I five-to-four decision of the supreme court
declaring the act under which he was con
victed to be unconstitutional. So insist
ent was the public demand for a probe
that the administration forces in the Senate
at length were constrained to act. Having
hearu ihe evidence, they adopted resolutions
describing the “expenditure of such excessive
sums in behalf of a candidate,” as “contrary
to sound public policy, harmful to the honor
and dignity of the Senate and dangerous to
the perpetuity of free government.” Yet, In
the next breath, they voted that Newberry
retain hl~ seat.
From such standards the iniquities of a
Fall, a Forbes and a Daugherty are bred as
naturally as flies from a garbage can. The
Roosevelt administration, the Taft adminis
tration, the Wilson administration all vigi
lantly guarded, as needful to the navy for
i national defense, those two great fuel oil
reserves, which the present administration,
through its former secretary of the Interior,
handed over to private Interests. And when
it was brought to light that ‘he shameful
leases had been accompanied by “loans” in
the sum of one hundred and twenty-five
thousand dollars to Albert B. Fall, to whom
the department of the Interior had been en
trusted, what was the reaction In adminis
trative circles? The World aptly comments.
“The honest men (of the Cabinet) claim that
they did not know what was going on. Mr.
Hughes has made a public statement, saying
that the oil leases did not come before the
Cabinet, and apparently he expects the coun
try to be satisfied with this explanation of
why Mr. Hughes, Mr, Hoover, Mr. Mellon
and others inside the cabinet did not know
as much about them as men like Senators
La Follette and Walsh outside the Cabinet.
The plea that the honest men were ignorant
may be true, but it does not inspire confi
dence in them.” Mr. Denby, also honest, is
excused on grounds of “abnormal stupidity.”
After turning over the oil reserves of the
national fleet to so notorious an enemy of
conservation as Fall, despite the warning
counsel of the naval bureau of engineering,
Mr. Denby acknowledged that he was igno
rant of even the broad outlines of the leases
which had cost his department and the na
tion so dear. Such was the administration’s
secretary of the navy.
The case of Charles R. Forbes, to whom
was entrusted ' command of the Veterans’
Bureau with its disbursements of four hun
dred and fifty million dollars a year, is too
notorious to call for further recital. Be it
observed, however, that a Republican Senate
committee itself refers to the investigation
as having disclosed “wretched Incompetence,
waste and dishonesty;” while the commit
tee's counsel, General O’Rryan, declares: “It
has been conclusively established by the tes
timony of witnesses, by documentary evi
dence, and by the corroborative effect of the
numerous telltale corcumstances brought out,
that fraud and corruption existed in the
bureau, and that Director Forbes was a lead
ing actor in an established conspiracy to de
fraud the Government.” Defrauding the
Government and its taxpayers is bad enough,
but what shall be said of those who steal the
comforts, the protections and the necessities
of soldiers whose bodies were broken for
their country, and who now lie helpless?
Fall, Forbes and Daugherty! Was there
ever such a trio in any other administration?
Os the last the World says, after every allow-
I ance for “unreliable” testimony concerning
him: “The fact remains, and it is nowhere
challenged, that, granted these men (wit
nesses who have figured in charges against
Daugherty) are liars in their t of bribes,
the Attorney General of the United States
lived on terms of intimacy with men who
dealt in crime. Finally, when Daugherty has
been vociferous in his affirmation of inno
cence, he has to this daj' never undertaken
under oath and on the witness stand to deny
the specific charges brought to prove that
1 through Jess Smith the influence of the high
est legal office in the nation was sold.”
That men like these set the moral stand
ard of .the entire Harding-Coolidge adminis
tration is not for a moment to be implied;
for if they did, government would fall from
sheer rottenness. But it is not to be gain
said that affairs at Washington during this
administration have suffered more from offi
cial incompetency and more from official
I corruption than ever before within a span of
fifty years. Only in the Presidency of Grant
will there be found a parallel to the scandals
which have multiplied at the capital since
■ March the fourth, 1921. General Grant s in
j tegrity was not questioned, but his best
friends acknowledged that he was unable to
I
i cope with the evils which darkened his polit
ical days. Mr. Coolidge's integrity is not
questioned, but it would be absurd to deny
that his administration is incompetent to
purge away the wrong and the shame which
have grown up under its very eyes.
You'd think that when a baker lost his
i money he'd get himself another roll.—
, Springfield Daily News.
Why doesn't some real estate man adver
tise. ‘‘Within easy running distance of the
[car line?''—Sandusky Register.
HIS BROTHER’S WIFE
BY RUBY M. AYRES
CHAPTER XI
The Puzzle
UP In his bedorom, he turned on all the
lights and propped the little photo
graph of Nigel and his wife against
the dressing table glass. He stood looking
down at it for a moment, then he took the
flat gold locket which Mary Furnival had
given him from his pocket, and opened it.
With a sort of deliberate curiosity he
compared tne pictured faces of the two
women —the one in the locket, with its
steady, almost sad eyes, and the frivolous
prettiness of her who had been his brother’s
wife.
It was not the same woman!
He laid the locket down besides the un
mounted photograph, and again opened
the letter Nigel had written the night be
fore his death.
Perhaps now he would be able better to
understand its imploring incoherence; per
haps now in the light of this new discovery,
many things would be made clear.
“Dear Davy,” (Nigel’s sprawling writing
struck his heart with a little pang of re
membrance; nobody but Nigel had ever
called him “Davy”)—“l have been mean
ing to write to you l ever since I came out
to this hell, for hell it Is, no matter what
the papers say.
“I don’t want to grumble—l came of
my own free will—'but the past day or two
I’ve had the feeling that I shan’t ever go
back home. So many of the chaps have
gone under and you nev.er know whose
turn it will be next.
“I should have liked to have seen you
again, old fellow. I hope you weren’t very
wild over my last letter? I ought to have
told you before about my marriage, but it’s
all been such a mistake.
“Not that I’m blaming Dolly. It’s cut
both ways, and she hasn’t been any hap
pier than I have. We weren’t suited; there
was another man she really care for, and
I—well, one can see where mistakes are
made when it's too late.
“Mary Furnival is with Dolly while I
am out here; she’s the best woman in the
world, and the best friend I’ve ever had.
She’d have pulled me through, if I’d not
been such a fool, and you’d have liked her.
But it’s no use now, or I suppose I shouldn’t
be writing this at all.
“It’s been raining like hell for the past
week —hardly a dry moment —and most of
us are suffering - agoifies from rheumatism.
Gad, one appreciates England after a taste
of this!
“Davy, If I never come home —don’t
think I’m funking—but if I never come
home, and you get a chance, will you tell
Mary Furnival that I asked you to thank
her for all she’s done for me? I, never,
somehow, realized it till I got away from
every one, and had plenty of time to think.
We were such good pals. God bless her!”
After speaking with Mary, and believing
■r to be his brother’s wife, Bretherton had
marveled at the half-spoken confession
of love for another woman the letter had
contained; but now, in the light of what
Monty Fisher had said, and what he him
self had instinctively guessed, many things
were made clear.
Nigel had loved this woman, this Mary
Furnival, who had allowed him —David—to
believe that she was Nigel’s widow; Nigel
had realized the mistake of his marriage too
Jate!
Then where —where was Dolly?
It was all a great mystery.
CHAPTER XII
An Uneventful Life
D)WN to the time of Nigel Bretherton’s
death Mary Furnival’s life had been
eventful.
She could not remember her father, and
her mother had died when she was sixteen,
leaving her to manage as best she could on
the small income of something under a hun
dred a year.
It had seemed wealth to Mary in those
I early days; only afterward, when she came
| to realize that there are things such as
j board and lodgings and traveling expenses
to be paid for besides clothes and simple
pleasures, did she understand that she must
look around for ways and means by which
to supplement her slender in’eome.
An advertisement in a morning paper had
led to her finding a place as typist in a city
office.
She made no friends, and the advent of
Nigel Bretherton into the drab monotony of
her life had seemed like a gilmpse of heaven.
He was a friend of her employer’s" son,
and once—pausing on his way through the
office where she sat, he had stopped and
jokingly offered her a penny for her
thoughts.
That had been one of the days when a
patch of blue sky was visible above the ugly
chimney-pots, and Mary had pointed to it,
and answered that she was wondering what
it must be like to live in the country, where
there was no smoke, and where the sun al
ways shone.
The answer had amused and interested
; him, even though he told her that there was
: no place on earth where the sun always
i shone. She was different from the fluffy,
i giggling girls of his acquaintance, and one
day he hesitatingly asked her to come out
and have some tea with him.
And so the curious friendship had started.
No man had ever paid Mary attention be
i fore, and it seemed to her ignorance that
! this was Romance with a capital letter, and
the first step to the “Happy-ever-after”
Land, of which she had hitherto only
dreamed.
For four years she had been more than
happy and content with his friendship, and
then, without a word of warning, her dream
| castles came clattering to the ground.
I Nigel went on a country visit.
I He had often been away before, and she
had not minded. She had looked forward
to his occasional letters, and the joy of his
' return. But this time, beyond a couple of
, scribbled postcards, he did not write at all.
The visit, which had been for a week.
| dragged into two. and when he came back
I one glance at his face told her the reason
for his delay.
He had met the inevitable “other woman.”
Little by little, as if he were not quite
, sure how she would take it. he had told her
about Dolly—how pretty she was, how' alto
’ getber charming.
“Her hair is like copper beech leaves in
: the sun.” he said eloquently. “I want so
! marry her more than anything in the
■ world.”
For an agonized moment Mary had not
i been able to answer. For a moment she
1 had closed her eves, and wondered with a
■ sick feeling of utter despair how she could
1 ever hide from him the truth—the humiliat
ing truth—that she had given him some
thing more than friendship, expecting some
thing more in return.
(Continued Saturday. Renew your sub
scription now to avoid missing a chapter.)
POINTED PARAGRAPHS
Lies ?rp always in a hurry, hut the truth
contentedly awaits its turn.
Love mav he blind ar th* start, hut it Is
presently able to sed its finish.
Lots of worry and trouble is brought on
by advice that is supposed to prevent it.
Mysterious explosion wrecked Chieazo
, apartment house. Probably the rent going
i up.—Little Rock (Ark.) Gazette.
THE COUNTRY HOME
BY MRS. IV. H. FELTON
THE UNIFICATION OF NORTHERN AND
SO UT HE R N MKTH O DI STS
I WAS nine years old when the split came
and the Northern church became aboil- I
tionist, or anti-slavery, and the Southern
church set up for itself, after Bishop Andrew
was made the target for discussion on the
slavery issue.
I saw a good deal of Bisbop Andrew. I
went to school with his daughter, Octavia, in
Oxford, Ga. We were in the same class,
both less than ten years old. I. heard the
bishop preach in Oxford, also in Decatur,
Ga., many times. I was too young to un
derstgnd the why and wherefore of the re
jection of Bishop Andrew because he owned
some negro slaves, but like all the people
who owned slaves in the south, I grew up
in the belief that slavery was right and prop
er, etc., etc.
I am satisfied now that the south made a
mistake in leaving the Federal union to fight
for slavery. I am also satisfied that we
should have put it up to congress to pay
for the slaves and then we should also have
colonized them here, because it was physi
cally impossible to send them to Liberia.
There were only three things possible in that
emergency, namely: colonization iu Africa,
or colonization in or near Mexico, or ex
termination as we exterminated the Amer
ican Indian. The latter was impossible, and
the southern leaders determined to hold on
to slavery as the least of all these difficul
ties and finally decided to secede, to set up
another union which was called the Southern
Confederacy.
I was familiar with the dispute, for I
was twenty-four years old when the presi
dential campaign of I 860 began. A good
many others are also familiar who are still
living, and averse to change at this time.
The slavery question lies dormant at this
writing, but It is alive —not dead by any
means. Whatever may have been the errors
and evils of African slavery, the Methodist
church north was the first church organiza
tion to attack it, and I feel sure that the
peaceful separation in 1844 had a great deal
to do with the secession of the southern
states in 1861. If the churches could di
vide without recourse to arms and get along
with a quiet division, why not the southern
states? Except in California, the M. E.
Church, South, did not enter any abolition
state to build churches or hold annual con
ferences. There was only one Southern
Methodist church In Washington City iu the
early ’7os, but the Northern church crossed
the line and organized churches in Georgia,
and acquired legal church property among
us. A number of Georgia preachers went
over to the Northern church and gave many
reasons why, but as one frank, outspoken
Georgia Bleacher explained, “every reason
meant a dollar!” The division was main
tained, and although there was much fric
tion for a time the militants of the North
ern church quieted down as the years rolled
on and peace or quiet prevailed on the out
side, at least, in Methodist circles.
Those who have decided to unify at this
time are in a sense newcomers. Those of
us who tasted the full dregs of Civil war
are not ready' now to venture into waters
that may become a roaring sea in unexpected
places, or maybe a general whirlpool, and
thus engulf the unified church iu a fierce
political combat, from Maine to California,
and wake up everything that should be re
ligiously restrained and kept out of the
churches, both North and South, to conserve
Christian peace with brotherly love. And I
do not hesitate to say that the race ques
tion will automatically push to the front.
It has been a “push button” in national pol
itics since Appomattox. We know that po
litical ambition (in both north and south)
has made the race question a “hobby horse”
in Georgia for nearly sixty years. In the
south we have solidified against the negro
in politics because we found the north using
the negro in their political campaigns. The
good negroes in the south have been badly
dealt with because bad negroes were en
couraged to hate the whites in the southern
sections as their natural enemies, and rabid
politicians in the south have fanned these
antagonisms into blazing fury to keep the
south solid in sectional politics, and elect
themselves to all the offices, state and na
tional, in the aforetime Confederate states.
“Doing well is hard to beat,” says the old
adage. It is manifestly a trueism in religion
as well as material things, and so long' as
the two branches of Wesleyan Methodism can
visit and drink a cup of tea together without
meddling in the inside affairs of either house
hold, we may keep down unpleasant mem
ories of by-gone days, that are not only dan
gerous but deadly when churches are shoved
into the cesspools of dirty politics.
The time is certainly coming when the
representation in national legislation will be
based on the voting population. No country
can long exist half slave and half free. A
republic will sink into a militarism or an au
tocracy of tyranny.
I would remind the general reader that the
entry of the colored sold.ier into the late
world's war has enlisted but little criticism
in the public prints. Nevertheless, an equal
ization scheme has prevailed, which estab
lishes the national importance of the colored
coldier, and which also entitles the colored
soldier, conscripted as were all soldiers in
the United States, white or black, to every
privilege or benefit or pension or bonus that
the white soldier can ever obtain, under na
tional legislation.
It was a southern president who, as com
mander-in-chief of the army and navy, en
gineered that plan of equalization for the
colored race in this republic. This step can
never be turned backward. It will grow with
its growth and spread to the Philippines and
Honolulu. The Jap exclusion, hurried on to
July 1, 1924, was only a question of color.
The south's contention on the slavery ques
tion wag always a question of color.
Without further explanation, or criticism,
or argument, we are in no position to unify
with even a branch of Wesleyan Methodism
where the color question separated us in
1844, and which deluged this republic in
bloody slaughter of the white men of Ameri
ca in the early ’6os, to maintain the color
line here. Frends and fellow-readers of cur
rent events, we will be wise to “let well
enough alone,” at this crisis in our country's
situation.
If there had been no slaves there would
have been no Civil war. Ten thousand com
mentators of transcendent ability cannot
alter this conclusion. When the learned
commentators rise up to tell you that we
Should abandon our plea for white suprem
acy and go back on the record of Southern
Methodism for more than half a century of
progress and prosperity, we are simply' being
blindfolded into policies and plans that will
create endless confusion.
THE BOMS QUESTION
TIME and again, I am questioned as to
the bonus law'—lately passed by Con
gress—and which law begins to func
tion inside of four weeks —from the date
of this writing—namely, July Ist, 1924.
This action was hasty—undoubtedly.
It precipitates an immense amount of
work on the managers—those who must re
ceive the applications, and fix the amount
to be given by the taxpayers of the United
States. There should be no opportunity for
fraud —as has prevailed too often in pen
sion papers during years gone by.
I had foresight sufficient to foretell the
clamor for the bonus, when President Wil
sion, as Commander-In-Chief of the Army
and Navy. engineered the conscription
method instead of the usual volunteer plan
THURSDAY, JUNK 12, 1024.
of raising an army. I have always been
opposed to conscripting an army in this Re
public unless in time of invasion. If a man
can not afford to defend his own country
from invasion, lie is a poor stick, whatever
he may assume to be as a member of so
ciety. It is different to defending royal
thrones in Europe. But war is a serious
proposition. It means a sacrifice of human
life that is always enormous. After Presi
dent Wilson won his second term, by a
promise to “keep us out of war,” I became
convinced that he should have allowed the
United States to vote on war —especially on
conscription. Fifty years from now the de
baters will be discussing this act of con
scripting the yonuger men of America to
fight the battles of the Allies on another
Continent.
The conscription act applied to both white
and colored soldiers. The negro man, who
was not allowed to vote in the Southern
States, was drafted with the white men who
could vote against the authorities which <
drove them to the battle front —to die there '
or to escape by rare good fortune, when I
their dead comrades were piling up in heaps •
around him, in the bloody struggle in the |
filches.
‘The bonus law will not be allowed to give j
one sort of pension to the whites and an
other to the colored —certainly they will get
the same sort of bonus—and all other per
quisites pertaining to a soldier. / From this
viewpoint the bonus law was enacted —this
involuntary service without a quibble or a
protest—if they are needing it, by reason of
illness or poverty. It would be preposterous
to be compelled to face Germany’s guns—by
executive order in America—and get noth
ing in either money or land, while a great
majority never faced the enemy’s guns in
Europe—and drew big salaries—occupying
swivel chairs in departments or office camps
in this country.
As I shall always believe, conscription
was wrong in a free government. I also
shall always believe that those who bore
the heat and burden of the day—on foreign
battlefields—-should get twice or three times
more as a bonus over the swivel chair pa
triots who drew big salaries and were pro
tected thus by political influence or wealth
in the family. The Administration seemed
to be ignorant or oblivious to the fact that
the color line did not appear on the army
front—and the colored troops for the first
time in the United States, were equalized in
every respect with the Anglo-Saxons in the
United States. It is an awful burden to be
laid on a nation overtaxed to the limit, but
it was awful to die for the Allies in Europe,
with rpyal heads and thrones to preserve.
MEDICAL PROGRESS
THE medical profession still has much to
learn about the causes and cures of
many of the diseases to which flesh is
heir. That is readily conceded by physicians
themselves. But to insist, as some hasty
critics vehemently do, that medicine is un
progressive, is the sheerest nonsense. ‘
One has only to recall a few medical
achievements of recent years to appreciate
the absurdity of this charge of unprogress
iveness.
Recall, for example, the havoc that not so
long ago was wrought by yellow fever. To
day, thanks to the discovery of the part
played by mosquitoes in the transmission of
this dread disease, yellow fever has virtually
been conquered.
That other mosquito-borne disease, ma
laria, has similarly been brought under hu
man control by medical research. If there
still are malaria districts it is the fault, not
of the medical profession, but of communi
ties unwilling to bear the expense of rooting
out mosquito breeding-grounds.
Typhoid fever now slays few compared
with the myriads it used to slay. This is not
because typhoid has lessened of its own ac
cord, but because medicine has taught men
the importance of safeguarding the drinking
supply against typhoid germs, and of raising
resistivity to typhoid by inoculation. The
sattement has lately been made, on good
grounds.
“The dreaded typhoid fever, 'ere all the
human family to be inoculated against it,
would practically disappear.”
A similar statement may justly be made
with regard to diphtheria, thanks to medical
science’s discovery of the Schick test and
of the possibility of successfully inoculating
against diphtheria those shown by the Schick
test to be susceptible to it. As it is, the
anti-toxin treatment of diphtheria has great
ly reduced its mortality.
Nor can one calculate the number of
lives that have been saved by the discovery
of the part played by infected tonsils, teeth,
and sinuses in the causing of heart
rheumatism, and other grave constitutional’
disorders. There is reason to anticipate,
moreover, that this discovery may eventually
pave the way to the abating, if not the abol
ishing, of sundry mental diseases.
Important also to both body and mind are
recent discoveries in the field of glandular
diseases and malfunctionings. Seeming mir
acles of physical and mental restoration are
already being effected by gland therapy, and
this albeit scientific study of this new'medi
cal resource has but fairly begun.
And, of course, mention should be made
of the insulin treatment for diabetes, the
mercuio-chrome treatment for septicemia,
the desensitization treatment for maladies
due to food intolerances, and the serum
treatment for one common form of pneu
monia. Nor would the mention of these ex
haust by any means the list of modern medi
cine's triumphs.
(Copyright, 1924.)
MY FAVORITE STORIES
By Irvin S. Cobb
Nearly everybody who went to Yellow
stone Park in the old days remembers—or
should remember—the old stage coach driver
who went under the name of Petrified John
son He was a picturesque-looking person
and his language was picturesque, too.
John McCutcheon was recalling, here onlv
the other day, an incident of a trip he made
through the park once under the chaperon
age of Mr. Johnson.
On a hillside the mules hauling the coach
slowed down almost to a crawl. They were
dragging a heavy cargo of tourists and the
grade was very steep. As they dawdled on
ward, turning their long coffin-shaped heads
outward as is the custom of tired mules and
staring with lack luster eyes at the land
scape, the veteran swung his whip and shout
ed in a rousing roar:
“Git up, you scenery-loving sons of guns!” |
He acquired his sobriquet through a remark
he made long years ago to a woman. He
came from Arizona and was proud of its
natural beauties—prouder even than he was
of the natural beauties of Yellowstone, which
meant he was very proud indeed.
One day, so the story runs, he was de
canting upon the marvels of Arizona’s Petr
fled Forest.
“Is it so very wonderful?” asked a lady
visitor.
Ma ana,” said the old-timer, “there ain’t
nothing like it nowheres on this earth. It's
the most petrified place there is. Why,
ma am, once't upon a time down there I
recollect seein’ a petrified bird settin’ up on
a petirified limb in the top of a petrified
tree—singin’ of a petrified song!”
(Copyright, 1924.) |
MYWIFEANDI-
i f-
’’ BY CAROLYN BEECHER
CHAPTER XXV
AS I hung on a strap in the crowded
subway, swaying unsteadily on my
feet, I thought of my conversation
with Uncle Robert. He was right. It wasn’t
fair to feel disgruntled unless I made Nata
lie understand plainly that I could not af
ford her extravagances. In the small town
where ehe had lived my income would have
been princely. But in New York, with soar
ing rents, the increased expense of keeping
servants, the advanced price of food, clothes
and other essentials, to say nothing of *
pleasures —it was barely sufficient.
I had often said we couldn’t afford this
or that, had told Natlie in a half-hearted
way she must retrench or we would go to
the poorhouse, but except for that one
night when I had talked mostly of the
deeper things that affected us, I had not
made any determined attempt to change
things. I smiled grimly as I thought of
my failure on that one occasion—when I
delivered my “lecture,” as she had dubbed
my talk. It would be disagreeable, sub
consciously I knew she would resent any- •
thing I might say, but it had to come. I
had forgotten the bills in my pocket marked
“Mrs. Brooks,” but thinking of Natalie’s
extravagance brought them to my mind. I
would give them to her and at the same
time talk seriously with her.
For the first time it came to me that *
love that could be held only hy Indulgence
wasn’t love at all. It would be a sort of
test. Without slaying anything to her I had 1
cut my personal expenses to a minimum 'in'*'
an effort to get ahead, but it had been of *
no avail. The less I spent the more she
did or so it seemed. First nights at the
latest plays, constant attendance at high
priced dancing places, nothing but the best
of everything.
“Hurry and get dressed, Bruce,” she
greeted me. “Ned and Jessie are giving a
party tonight.”
“Where?” I asked, noting that both she
and her mother were in full regalia.
She mentioned a fashionable hotel, add
ing: Don t stop to talk, you’ve scarcely
time to get ready. What made you so
late?”
“Work,” was my laconic answeY, as I dis
appeared Into the bathroom.
Again my talk would have to wait. With
an explosive “damn!” I hurried to dress. It
was either go or give Ned a chance to mo
nopolize Natalie. I knew that neither her
mother nor Jessie would be any hindrance
to him. Or to her.
Would she never tire of the shallow life
we led. I wondered as I dressed.. She was
as avid for pleasure now as she had been
at first. I cursed my helplessness, one mo
ment deciding to tell her I would not go
with her, the next hastening my toilet for
fear she would be upset if we were late. I
laid the envelope with my mother-in-law’s
bills on my chiffonier. I would give it to
her when we returned.
“Aren’t you proud to have two such stun
ning looking women with you?” Natalie
asked as we left the house.
“lou both look exceptionally well,” I re
plid coldly, thinking of the bills on the
chiffonier,’ the checks I had drawn that
morning. “You would look well for the
money you spend.”
Natalie shrugged her disapproval and I
heard that sniff that registered her mother's.
Instead of annoying me it made me feel bet
ter. I had spoken my mind, had refrained
from compliments.
Garth Holden met us in the lobby.
“Party’s called off. Jessie was taken ill i
just as they were about to start and I guess
the doctor they called saw to it that Ned
remained with her. Be my guests for din
ner, then we ll decide what we want to do
afterward.”
As the women were chefcking their wraps,
he added:
“Between you and me, old man, I don’t
think Jessie knew anything about the bloom
ing party, anyway not utatil tonight. Ned'ii
sprung several things oil her to my certain
knowledge. I more than half Imagine her
illness is faked.”
“But you said the doctor ”
“I know, but Jessie’s clever, even if she
does seem rather meek. I wouldn’t be sur
prised if the doctor understood something
of how matters stand and helped her out.
She’s in love with Ned, even after all he has
done, and is going to keep him if she can.”
“And you think she’s afraid of losing
him?” I finished. I couldn’t bring myself to
speak my wife's name.
“Yes, Bruce, I do. Here come the ladies.
Natalie as usual a vision of loveliness.”
Natalie's face, which had been clouded,
cleared at the compliment.
“What a flatterer you are, Garth. If only
I could think you really mean what you say,”
she said, linking her arm in his and leaving
me to follow with her mother.
“Don’t propose anything after dinner, (
Bruce,” I said under cover of the music. i'
“Right-o,” he returned quietly.
I saw Natalie was disappointed when he '
did not, and she asked me bluntly if I did
not intend to take them somewhere to dance.
“No, I want te get home. I have some
matters to attend to,” I told her. When we
arrived I went immediately to my room, got.
the envelope I had left on my chiffonier and
laying it in her lap said:
“What’s the meaning of this?”
Continued Saturday. Renew your subscrip
tion now to avoid missing a chapter.
THE POOR MAN’S FRIEND
By Dr. Frank Crane
WE have heard a good deal of the
poor man’s friend. Here is one so
advertised. He is a politician, and
wants the poor man’s vote, mainly because
it ie more numerous than the rich man’s.
Here’s another, a philanthropist, who dole* !
bread; another builds a hospital or a library •'
or a college dormitory. And so on. J
And this is a symptom of charity among
us, and it would be churlish to snarl at it. ?
But the thoughtful mind cannot resist 5
the conclusion that in the long run auchj
deeds are not of much permanent value to
the poor.
The poor man has just one friend, real
friend.
It is the Honest Man.
The more you think of that word
“honest” the more it seems to roar like 4 *
thunder, to flash revealingly like lightning. «
The honest thinker, the man who re- ;
fuses to say what he does not believe— ;
how much the poor owe him! It is he ;
who has stopped church persecutions, up- I
set gloomy theologies, overturned tyrant j
thrones, abolished iniquitous laws, done * j
away with evil customs. To him is due t
the death of witch burning, slavery, and 1
quackery.
The poor have but one real enemy. It
is Privilege. In the end the poor pay for ■
hereditary monarchee, tariff-'fattened trusts,
grafts and sinecures. And the buttresses .
of privilege are moral cowardice and in- ;
tellectual dishonesty.
The prime minister of Privilege Is Ex
pedfency.
It is expediency that protects and pro
motes graft, ecclesiastical, political, or
financial. It Is because men say what they
do not believe, for the wretched reason,
that “it is best,” or “it is safest,” that
ancient frauds live on and are fattened by
the blood of the poor.
There is no finer charity on earth than
for a man to be truthful, tell the truth
and act the truth. At }ast it is such a man
who blesses his fellows.