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THE TRI WEEKLY JOURNAL
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Rfß /
MTTLE MISS FIXIT,
Care Tri-Weekly Journal,
Atlanta, Georgia.
A BIBLE THOUGHT FOR TODAY
Ye shall know them by their fruits. Do
men gather grapes of, thorns or figs of
thistles? Even so every good tree bring
eth forth good fruit; but a corrupt tree
bringeth forth evil fruit. A good tree can
not bring forth evil fruit, neither can a cor
rupt tree bring forth good fruit. Every
tree that bringeth not forth good fruit is
hewn down and cast into the fire. Where
fore by their fruits ye shall know Lhem.
Not every one that saith “Lord, Lord”
shall enter into the kingdom Qf heaven,
but he that doeth the will of ny Father
Who is in heaven.—Matthew 7:16-21
/
Senator William J. Harris's
Great Value to Georgia
SENATOR WILLIAM J. HARRIS’ an
nouncement of his candidacy for re
election will be read with keen interest
by the people of Georgia, whom he has
served in the United States Senate for the
last six years with zealous and able devo
tion. His review of the constructive meas
ures which he either has originated or has
actively supported and of the substantial re
sults which he has accomplished is highly
impressive, particularly as regards legisla- ,
tion in behalf of agricultural needs. Know- I
ing the interests of Georgia from direct con- I
tact with her rank and file and from con- ■
stant study of matters that lie close to their
daily life, Senator Harris has worked ef
fectively as well as earnestly for the com- '
mon weal.
At the same time he has established a
record of broad and statesmanly thinking I
on issues of national concern. In a Senate
whose majority has been made up of Repub
licans, for the most part of a reactionary
type, he has stood staunchly for what is
liberal and Democratic. On all the major
issues which have arisen during these mo
mentous years, his utterance and his vote,
in so far as The Journal has observed, have
been true to the best ideals of his party
and to the best interests of his country.
In what esteem he is held by his col
leagues appears from the fact that he is now
next to the ranking Democrat on the most
important and most powerful of Senate com
mittees, that on appropriations. Such re
sponsibilities are not lightly bestowed, nor
easily sustained. That Senator Harris has
been entrusted with so influential a post is
evidence of how he is regarded at Washing
ton. That he has discharged its duties so
well is greatly to the advantage of Georgia
and of the entire Southeast, especially inas
much as he is the only member from this re
gion on the subcommittees of eight mem
bers each, having charge of all appropria
tions on agriculture, highways, commerce,
postofflees, rural routes and related interests.
If Senator Harris has served his State
well during his first term, he should be
able by virtue of his ripe experience and use
ful associations to serve still more effectual
ly in the years ahead. To reward fidelity
and ability in a public trust with continued
tenure is not only fair but eminently wise.
Much history is to be made during the years
for which Senator Harris asks re-election,
history of great import to Georgia as well
as to America. If a Democratic adminis
tration takes the helm on March the fourth
next, we shall be fortunate in having so
valued a Senator in the forefront; or should
Republican control continue, we certainly
should be fortunate to have on guard one
who has accomplished so much for the prac
tical good of the State despite the fact that
his own party has been in the minority.
If the laborer is worthy of his hire. Sen
ator William J. Harris, in The Journal's
Judgment, is worthy o[ re-election.
ly and cheerfully see
that things are made
right.
We want every sub
scriber to get The Tri-
Weekly Journal reg
ularly and punctual
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,
THE ATLANTA TRI-WEEKLY .JOURNAL
Re-f) übhean Reaction Calls for]
Progressive Democracy
iHE wholly reactionary character of the
Republican convention’s work makes it.
more than ever imperative that the ;
T
Democrats nominate a Liberal and stand '
squarely forth for the rights of the rank
and file.
The candidates chosen at Cleveland, as
well as the platform adopted, bear witness
to the rule of special interests and of back
ward-looking minds. Mr. Coolidge’s nomina
tion was foregone, was indeed a necessity.
For the Old Guard to have turned elsewhere
would have been to repudiate the adminis
tration which they ask the country to in
dorse. So It is that the President, whose
most important policies have been rejected
by his own party in Congress, becomes a can
didate to succeed himself. For Vice Presi
dent the -convention, after turning thumbs
down on such Progressives as Judge Kenyon,
of lowa, and Herbert Hoover, selected
Charles G. Dawes, who, however marked his
financiering abilities may be, is quite out of .
harmony with the liberal thought of America I
and out of sympathy with the needs and
rights of the great body of its people. As
a banker Mr. Dawes is to be admired; and
for his contribution to the proposed settle
ment of the reparations issue (in which, it
■will be remembered, he acted not with the
aid of the Washington government, but un
der heavy handicaps which it had created)
he should receive all due credit. It is one
thing, however, to be an expert in finance,
and altogether another to be qualified for the
Vice Presidency of a republic of one hundred
million freemen.
If the candidates of the Republican con
vention are reactionary, what shall be said
of the platform? The one semblance of an
advanced idea in all its dreary welter of
words is the Indorsement of the World Court
of Justice; and that is really meaningless
since the Republican majority in the senate
has frowned out every such proposal
and is now declaredly against it. As
touching tax reform, the Cleveland conven
tion, though claiming party credit for the
rate reductions brought about on earned in
comes during the closing days of Congress,
was silent upon the fact that this system of
reduction was opposed by the administration
and was pressed to enactment by Demo
cratic initiative and progressive support, aft- '
er the Mellon plan had failed utterly of ac
ceptance because of its favoritism to special |
interests. Equally evasive was the R~;ub-i
lican convention on the incompetency and j
corruption which flourished at W '-'ngton!
after the present administra ion took charge. j
So colossal are the scandals they could not !
be ignored entirely; but the platform has no i
syllable of rebuke for Albert B. , ill, who I
as secretary of interior bartered away a |
priceless birthright of the nation for his own !
advantage; nor for the unspeakable Forbes, j
under whose direction of the Veterans’ Bu- J
reau, millions of. dollars appropriated for
disabled ex-service men were squandered and
stolen; nor for Harry M. Daugherty, who, in
disregard of public interest and outwgod
public sentiment, was retained at the head
of the department of justice until a country
wide storm of indignation drove him out.
Nor is there a word of apology for the fail
ure of the. respectable and responsible mem
bers of the administration to these in
iquities to light and to justice before the
Democratic and progressive forces of Con
gress compelled an investigation and a reck
oning.
Reactionary from first, to last and f cir- '
cumference to center, the Republican regime
now seeking re-election must be met by the i
Democrats with a bold, straightforward ;
championship of liberal policies, righteous
government and popular j - ule. This is de-|
manded by every consideration of expedien- ’
cy. It is demanded by every
of principle. It is the one platfor upon
which the Democratic party can be 1 ue to
itself and to America. t the one candi
date now visible wl a . ill stand cc mand
ingly on that pl;..form and lead to assured
victory is William G. McAdoo.
MY FAVORITE STORIES
BY IRVIN COBB
There is a scholarly musician in Vine of
our larger cities who hated nearly all mod
ern compositions and especially does he hate
jazz. Ragtime formerly was his pet aver
sion but lately he has transferred his main '
dislike to the jazzy stuff. I'he mere mention
of it gives him excruciating agony.
It is stated that one evening he was on
his way across town to attend a symphony
concert. He had plenty of time to spare
and he rather idled along. He came to an
apartment house, on the top floor of which
lived a professional friend who shared with
him these prejudices against the prevalent
melodies of the day. He observed that
smoke was pouring from a basement window
and just then the janitor ran out of the
areaway to call the fire engines.
The passer-by dashed upstairs—it was not.
an elevator r - tment—to give the alarm to
his associate. It was apparent that none of
the tenants in the house had been notified of
the peril, for, as he hurried past a door on
the fifth floor the strains of a phonograph
rendering one of Paul Whiteman’s latest
floated out into the hallway.
When he reached the next landing he
found his friend standing at the threshold of
his flat.
"Do you hear that?" demanded the resi
dent, pointing downward with a finger which
quivered.
"Do I hoar it?" repeated the newcomer,
fairly frothing at the mouth. "Does a man
hear anything else these degenerate times."
Together they passed into the apartment,
took seats together in the front room and
proceeded, by turns, to curse all jazz what
soever. A congenial ten minutes passed.
Then, down below, the host heard engine
gongs and shouting. He stepped to a win
dow and looked forth into the night.
"Great Heavens!" he cried out. “This
building is on fire!"
"Yes," said the visitor, “since you men
tion it. 1 remember now that that's what 1
; ' (Copyright, 1321.)
HIS BROTHER’S WIFE
BY RUBY M. AYRES
CHAPTER XVI
A Chance Encounter
SHE rose, after a sleepless night, with a
splitting headache. It was raining and
cold; the whole world looked dreary
and depressing. It was one of those days
when one feels as if the only possible man
ner of passing the time is by drawing the
blinds against the chill, uninviting outside,
and banking up a big fire.
But Mary sat down by the window and
stared into the street.
Once she began to write a letter to David,
but after the first few words she laid down
her pen and could not go on.
The paper lay on the table beside her,
with its date and “Dear Mr. Bretherton”
staring up at her.
What could she say? How could she an
swer him?
To tell him the truth, of course,, was the
obvious way, and yet her heart clung ach
ingly to the memory of that one day amid
the beauties of Red Grange. She must go
—she must!
But the miserable Indecision continued.
She put on her hat and coat, and went out
into the wet world. The chill, damp air
stung her pale cheeks into a faint flush,
and soothed the throbbing of her head.
‘‘l will go—l will’’’ she told herself, as
she retraced her steps.
But when she reached the flat again she
knew that she was as undecided as ever.
What to do? What„to do?
She ate her lunch without appetite. The
little maid hovered anxiously about her.
“You haven’t heard from Mrs. Bretherton
yet, I suppose, miss?" she asked hesitat
ingly.
"Yes, I have. I thought I told you. Shs
is having a sea trip.”
The little girl stared.
“Lor’, miss. And shall you go, too?”
Mary started.
“I don’t know—perhaps. I hope so.”
She felt confused and nervous; she was
glad when the girl was gone, but the little
conversation had shown her how difficult it
would be to keep up a subterfuge for any
length of time, if even this girl’s innocent
questioning made her confused and ill at
ease.
In the afternoon she tried to read, but
thought danced between her and the pages.
She threw the book impatiently aside.
Her restlessness drove her again out of
doors; she walked on aimlessly, through the
wet grayness of closing daylight.
She was surprised at -her agitation; as
a rule she was so self-possessed and quiet;
this miserable restlessness frightened her’.
It began to rain fast; she had brought
no umbrella, and in a few minutes she was
drenched.
She boarded a crowded omnibus and
found herself wedged in between a stout
woman and a young clerk reading an eve
ning paper.
Mary was cold and chilled to the bone'
she found herself shivering and hoped she
was not going to be ill.
Whe nthe conductor came for fares, she
remembered with a frightened start that she
had not brought her purse. She looked up
at him with scared eyes.
I haven t any money—l’m sorrv—l for
got—-I must get down.”
The man lo’oked decidedly unpleasant- he
that ta! something about having heard
that tale before. The young clerk with the
gening paper glanced at Mary sympathet-
A\ ill you allow me to pay for vou’ It’s
so frightfully wet for you to walk.”
Before she could answer he had' produced
a penny and taken a ticket for her. Mary
thanked him stammeringly.
She was really very thankful. She had
dreaded turning out again into the wet
night.
He was a nice-looking young fellow. He
lowered his paper and began to talk.
He said that the weather was too awful
for words. He asked if she had far to go.
V hen she told him tho road, he said that
his own destination was'not a great distance
away from it.
I m in moms,” he explained. “Not bad
rooms, either, considering I only pay twentv
five shillings a. week.”
Mary smiled; she found his frankness en
gaging.
"Awful thing, this boat being lost, isn't
it? he said again, after a. moment, in a
shocked voice. He indicated the folded pa
per on his knee.
“I haven't heard anything about it,” said
■'LL'’. 1 haven t seen an evening paper.”
It s the Multane—she was bound for
Buenos Ayres—rammed by a tramp steamer
in a fog or something—the details are not
very certain yet, but they say hardly any
one was saved.”
Mary was staring at him, white-faced, hor
rified.
“I say, do you know anybodV on It? I’m
awfully sorry. Look for yourself.”
I he. Multane! Oh, are you sure?”
He put the paper into her nerveless hands
but she could not read—everything seemed
to dance before her eyes.
“Read it to me.”
He obeyed in a troubled voice. One or
two passengers near them were listening
with interest. Mary’s white face and startled
ex< lamation had arrested their attention.
The young man broke off suddenly.
"Shall we get out and walk?” he sug
gested. He thought Mary was going to
faint.
She obeyed with pathetic eagerness and
haste; she could not bear the gaze of tJiaso
curious eyes about her.
When they were on the path, the young
man drew her hand through his arm He
had rammed the paper into an overcoat
pocket.
I ought not to have told you in such a
clumsy way,” he began. “Not that I had
any idea you would know anybody on the
boat.”
“Os course not.” Mary stood <for a mo
ment. her hands over her eyes, then she
moved. “I'm all right now—let us go on.”
He walked beside her soberly; he had
noticed that she wore mourning, and won
dered if this strange, coincidence had brought
about a second tragedy in her life. So many
dreadful things were happening every day
now; so many women wore black clothes,
and went about with hopeless, grief-stricken
Presently—
I should like to see the paper now,
please.” she told him.
They were beneath a street lamp. The
miserable, drizzling rain was pouring down
on them—it dripped from the brim of
Mary's hat.
The young man unfolded the paper, and
showed her the small stop-press paragraph
“It is the Multane, you see,” he said
gravely.
“Yes.”
She answered him dazedly. Dolly had
sailed on the, Multane—Dolly and the man
she had married so soon after her widow
hood.
“It is feared that very few. if any. of the
Multane s passengers are saved, as she sank
in a few minutes.”
The words danced mockingly before her.
Oh. poor Dolly! Toor Dolly!
The young man beside her spoke kindly,
sympathetically.
jo jo{ r aq „<eru a.taqj, a .ins oot aq 1 no(j...
people picked up that they know nothing
about yet. Let me take you home; vou're
wet through and cold. You’ll feei ever so
much better when you r 1 ’ warm and dry. - ’
She. was lonely and miserable, and fright-
THE CHURCHES HAVE A RIGHT TO A
CREED
HAT truth is to the intellect, right
eousness is to the will.
Revolt of the intellect against
w
truth is generally preceded, or accompanied, j
by rebellion of the will against righteous- '
ness.
Hence falsehood In
religion is the fruitful •'
source of disorder in
moral life.
The corrupting idol
atries of heathendom
are the secretions of
false teachings an d
ideas about the true
God.
Hence St. Paul said
of the vile practices of
the heathen of his day:
“Because when they
knew God, they glori
fied Him not as God,
neither were thankful;
but became vain in
their imaginations, and
their foolish heart
was darkened. Professing themselves to be
wise, they became fools, and changed the
glory of the uncorruptible God into an
image made like to corruptible man, and to
birds and four-footed beasts, and creeping
things. Wherefore God also gave them up
to uncleanness through the lusts of their
own hearts, to dishonor their own bodies
between themselves; who changed the truth
of God into a lie and worshipped and served
the creature more than the Creator, who is
blessed forever.” (Romans, 1:21-25).
Os a contrary character was the Hebrew
religion, which as a heavenly witness to God
delivered its sublime testimony against the
idolatries of heathendom for centuries and
centuries.
The elevated morality of Israel’s law
rested on a lofty theological truth. The
proclamation of the ten commandments was
preceded by recalling to the minds of the
Israelitish people the revelation which
Jehovah had made of Himself both to them
and to their fathers. The great truth, upon
which the entire decalogue rests, is then
witnessed in these solemn words: “Hear
O Israel: The Lord, our God, is one Lord.”
(Deuteronomy vi:4.)
In like manner the moral life of their
great ancestor, Abraham, rested on the
same sublime truth about God: “The Lord
appeared to Abram, and said unto him, I
am the Almighty God; walk before, me and
be thou perfect.” (Genesis xvii:l.)
The aspirations of the human heart for
moral perfection are bereft of both their
inspiration and their support when God is
left out of the account, when His nature
is ignored or obscured and His aid refused
in the pride of human self-sufficiency. This
is the plain implication of the words of Jesus
when He said in the sermon on the mount,
“Be ye perfect, even as your Father -which
is in heaven is perfect.” (Matthew v:48.)
He is but repeating in another form God’s
call to Abraham.
Jt , is . iu , accord wi th the great truth of
God s infinite purity and boundless might
that the first declaration of the Apostles’
Creed, the symbol of doctrine held by uni
versal Christianity,, is this: “I believe in
God, the Father Almighty, maker of
heaven and earth.”
This sublime first-truth is not a dead and
infertile abstraction. The thought that the
Almighty Creator of heaven and earth is al
so our Father, when duly believed, is
bound to influence life and affect conduct.
It protests all the tenets of atheism, fatal
ism, and pantheism. It implies that our
heavenly Father is on the one hand perfect
ly free, and that on the other hand He is
absolutely independent of, and disengaged
from His works. It flatly contradicts the
horrible fatalism of the ancient Greeks that
Deity is Hiyiself bound by fate, and is the
slave, rather than the author of the universe.
It also denies the tenet of modern pantheism
that God is but another name for nature
and that. His works are really He. It op
poses with uncompromising power the veil 'e
system of modern materialism, which makes
God the helpless victim of th* so-called
laws of nature, and involves the conception
of the Divine character in such a complica
tion of contradi ->n . that at last it calls
Him the I nknow-able, and lies down in a
puddle of hopeless agnosticism.
It. declares the Fatherhood of tne Al
mighty Creator and clears every obstruc
tion- from the way of approach to Him by
prayer.
It points out clearly the path to moral
perfection. It shows us that such
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, D. ()., and in
closing a two-cent stamp for return
postage. DO NOT SEND IT TO OUR
ATLANTA OFFICE.
Q. What is the meaning of “Baraca?”
V.'l. C.
A. This word, which is used as a Sun
day school class name, is a transliteration of
the Hebrew word meaning “Blessed" used in
Chronicles 20:26.
Q. Were annuities known before life in
s.urance was issued? G. M. B.
A. Annuities are much older. Possibly
they were known to the Assyrians and Baby
lonians. The first record of an annuity is in
Rome in 40 B. C.
ened. She wanted a friend badly, and this
young fellow was a gentleman, and sympa
thetic.
“If you like, I will go down to the ship's
office and make inquiries,” he said diffident
ly. “They probably have other news by now.
If you will tell me the name of your friend?”
She told him sobbingly:
“Mrs. Nigel Bretherton;" then, remember
ing, hastily corrected herself. “I mean Mrs.
Robert Durham. Oh, she can not, can not
be drowned!"
“First reports are nearly always exag
gerated.” he said quickly, with kind hopeful
ness. “And th? Multane was not a very big
steamer. She carried only a few passengers,
I know. My brother came home from the
Argentine on her last month. They may all
be saved. You must hope for the best."
“Your mistress is wet through,” he said.
"See that she changes her clothes, and
give her something hot to drink.”
Mary had already- gone on into the flat.
She felt as if this last blow was more than
she could bear; it seemed to crush her to
the ground.
She was sitting in dumb misery in the cosy
sitting room when the small maid came in
hurriedly with a steaming cup of cocoa.
“The gentleman said you were to drink
this, miss, and that he'd be back as soon as
he could. And your clothes so wet!"
She coaxed Mary to change, and stood
over her while she drank the cocoa.
“I don't suppose it's any of it true.” she
maintained stoutly. “You can't believe a
word of what them papers say.”
Mary has to smile in spite of her wretch
edness.
"It’s only too true.” she said. "Some
thing tells me it’s only too true."
Continued Saturday. Renew your subscrip
tion n n w to avoijf rrfissing a chapter.
OLD-TIME RELIGION
HY KISHOP W. 4. CANDLER
THURSDAY, JUNE 19, 1924.
I perfection is accomplished, not by walking
I before our fellow men, conforming to their
1 human customs and maxims, and seeking
i their approval, but by walking before God,
! seeking to be conformed to HI:; .mage and
j likeness, and counting nothing better than
His approbation. It thus shows that hu
man perfection is to be found in God, and
in God alone; not in mechanical p. -esses
of human conduct, but in tho Divine regu
lation of life and the ennobling forces of
grace which issue from a heavenly Father
hood.
As a great expositor of the creed has
said this first sentence of it, "It teaches
: that which makes a nan truly righteous is
not any effort on his part to A ac
tion a completeness and wholeness of char
acter which may command, if it does not
aim at securing, the admiration of his fel
lowmen, the commendation of himself, but
the fact, that leaning on the invisible God,
looking to the Father who is Almighty, who
can call those things which be not as though
they were, he finds in Him a righteousness
and perfection which he has utterly re
nounced in himself, but which, having been
i found in his heavenly father, has a necessary
; and inevitable tendency to dominate and
> sanctify all his human and mundane rela
i tions, and which is personally and inwardly
the realization of an idea which cannot
otherwise be achieved, but is doomed to per
petual and recurring disappointment.
“And thus the old words are verified
when we know the Almighty God, for we
walk before Him and are perfect.”
And every other tenet of the creed is, as
the first, equally vital to moral life and
fruitful of spiritual graces. They all carry
the human heart into the invisible and
spiritual world, and stand it there in the
presence of God the Father, God the Son
and God the Holy Ghost.
The creed of Christendom underlies all
I the good in the civilization of Christendom.
Its tenets are so simple that children and
the most illiterate among men can compre
| hend them, and they are at the same time,
j so sublime that the wisest of philosophers
can rest his faith upon them.
In recent years there lias been a wide
spread tendency to fashion moral life on
! mundane models, rather than according to
the pattern shown us in the mount. Many
men have embraced atheistic systems of
ethics. With Mr. Herbert Spencer they have
sought to find the “data of ethics” in hu
man nature and earthly conditions, rather
than in the Divine nature and heavenly
j standards.
The fruits of such folly are now visible
: in moral disorder on every side. Such a
result was inevitable. Well may we now
cry with the Psalmist: “Help, Lord; for the
godly man ceaseth; for the faithful fail from
among the children of men.” (Psalms ii:l.)
When faith in God grows feeble the faithful
■ among men become fewer; and creedless
; ness corrupts conduct.
Attacks upon the creed have been fol
' lowed by assaults upon many of the funda
: mental principles -which underlie and sus-
■ tain social order. Revolt against God’s
truth engenders rebellion against God’s laws.
Atheism breeds anarchy.
We have had quite enough anarchy of re
j volts against both settled truth and essen
tial law.
It is cheering to note, however, a strong
I reaction against these things.
The recent general assembly of the South
ern Presbyterian reaffirmed its faith in
God’s word in the most dignified, calm and
> confident manner.
i The Northern Presbyterian general assem
i bly set its face against modernists. Faithful
bishops of the Protestant Episcopal church,
with firmness and doubtless with pain, con
j demned the heretical teachings of one of
| their number who has persistently rejected
i and repeatedly derided most essential parts
j of the creed.
Let no man condemn these clean courts
iof these great churches. They have done
; no more than they ought so have done.
If liberals revolt against the creeds of
. the churches and demand the creed of creed
. lessness. let them get together in an organi
zation framed and fashioned on that pat
i tern. That would be honest. Rut it is es
sentially dishonest to remain in an ortho
dox church, live on its resources and then
■ attack its principles.
I The churches have the right to formulate
I their faith and to defend it. No man’s lib
i erty is circuniscribed thereby; for no man
i is required to join a church or remain with
j in its pale, who repudiates its principles.
The liberty of a church to proclaim its
i belief is quite as sacred as the freedom of
any individual to speak his mind. v
SICKLY CHILDREN
By IL Addington Bruce
SHOW me a child who is ailing much of
the time and I will show you one who
I in all probability is exceptionally un
j der-npurished.
Too generally the parents of so-called del
icate or sickly children fail to appreciate the
close relation that exists between under-nu
trition and disease. Because of this failure
they wrongly attribute their children's fre
! quent ill-health to some constitutional weak
ness.
; “The reason Johnny and Mary catch every
diseases going,” they regretfully tell them
selves, “is that it is their nature to do so.
.They never can be strong and health}’ like
other children, we must make up our minds
to that.”
Perhaps this is trtn», n P some few sickly
I children, it is not true of the great majori
ty. Not nature but nurture is at fault in
■ their case.
Ask any medical man of long experience '
and he will bear out this statement. He will
tell you his observation is that most of the
children he is called upon to treat for con- ■
tagious and other ailments are children less i
resistive to infection than their playmates
: because they are not properly nourished.
Which does not invariably mean that they
are children not getting sufficient food. They
may be, and often are, children given the
wrong kinds of food.
Children, for example, who are permitted i
to subsist on a diet which includes meats and
sweets in undue amount and milk and greens i
j in scanty measure, cannot be well nourished. I
So with children whose diet is almost entire-:
ly lacking in hard foods.
Such children, because they do not have .
to chew their food thoroughly, are more !
than likely to eat too fast. Then their di
gestion suffers, with under-nutrition as a re- t
suit. Also the lack of hard foodstuffs means
that their teeth are not strengthened- by ex
ercise, with a consequent liability to in fee- !
tion and decay, to the further impairing of
their nutrition.
Indeed, many a sickly child in order to
emerge from the ranks of the .Jckiy needs
only to have his or her teeth put in good
condition. Others stand chiefly in need of
treatment for diseased tonsils and adenoid
growths, factors which account for much pre
ventable under-nutrition <)f children.
Phen there are sickly children who,
though fed properly, are nevertheless reared ■
in ways that prevent their food from nour
ishing them as it otherwise would.
Beauty is a veil that hides many femi
nine imperfections.
Only the man who knows that h r is in
( the wrong can afford to lose his temper. |
AAY WIFE AND I
BY CAROLYN BEECHER
CHAPTER XXVIII
I HAD though Natalie indifferent, cold, for
some time. Never had she been demon
strative, her caresses had been rare, but
of late I had a feeling that she simply suffered
any advances I made, that they had become
almost obnoxious to her. So I gradually
ceased offering them. Yet I loved her per
haps even more than when we were first
married
This coldness was not caused by anything
I had done, as far as I knew. Even her re
sentment because of my refusal to pay her
mother’s bills had not seemed to bring any
added chill to her manner. She was gay,
talked brightly to me when we happened to
be alone, which was seldom, hut it was as if
she had erected a wall between us beyond
which I could not go.
I recalled something Garth had said when
discussing a book he had read.
‘‘Most authors,” said he, “only make a bust
of marriage but he gives you the whole body.”
It struck me as-, describing perfectly the
condition existing between Natalie and me.
To all outward appearances we wore a most
happy and congenial couple, yet our life to
gether was but the semblance of what I had
dreamed it would be.
Was Natalie satisfied with it?
I could not tell. Never by word or look -
had she expressed unhappiness, save in con- 1
nection with the one incident of her mother'a,
bills, and I was sure she wasn’t as upset over
that as she pretended—that her illness was
assumed to compel me to her wishes in the
matter.
God knew- I wanted her to be happy but I
also wanted her love, that oneness in mar
riage I craved. I wanted a real home where
I could stretch my legs and read or talk to
her once in a while, instead of a place to eat
and sleep, -which was all our home had meant.
I was tired, tired to the point of exhaustion
with the years of pleasure-seeking, the abnor
mally late hours, the lack of any real rest
or rcstfulness in my home.
If, as I feared, Natalie’s indifference meant
she no longer cared for me, how was I to go
about remedying matters? Her mother was
still with us and for the last month I had
escorted them to theaters, dances, etc.; with
slavish regularity. Uncle Robert was almost
himself again and I had no excuse to refuse—
so I knew Natalie thought.
Money matters also -worried me. Natalie’s
bills were larger than ever, her demands for
entertainment and entertaining more extrav
agant. One can not chase the will-o’-the-wisp
of pleasure in 'New York without spending.
Boxes at the theater engaged without consult
ing me, or expensive seats when boxes weren't
procurable, dinners and suppers at expensive
hotels or restaurants, dancing clubs, all these
and more ate up money. The cost was far
more than I could afford. I knew her ipother
encouraged her, I had overheard her say:
“You should have everything you want,
Natalie. You’ll never be young but once and
there's no reason for you to shut yourself up;
you’ve no children to keep you at home.”
But all these things, bad as they were,
were as nothing compared to the feeling
tha. tNatalie had ceased to care for me.
And because of this fear I had been cow
ardly in postponing any attempt to regulate
our affairs. But I could wait no longer.
I had kept account of every penny we had
spent in the month, entertainments, my
own expenditures, etc. Taking Natalie's
bills with me I left the office in the middle
of the afternoon and went home. I would
thresh the whole thing out with her, tell
her we must call a halt at once.
I found her in a charming negligee, read
ing. She looked up surprised to see me, yet
I could see no pleasure in her face at. my
coming. I kissed her cheek, sat down be
side her and taking her bills, my tabulated
account of other expenditures from my
pocket, I said:
“I came home early, Natalie, so we could
have an uninterrupted talk. Wa can go on
in this way no longer?’ I gave her tho
amount we had spent for necessities and
entertainment, then her bills, then my own
expenses. “As you see, my personal ex
penses are almost ridiculously small by com
parison.”
“That’s your affair. You spend what you
like.” Her voice was like ice.
"No—l spend only what I must. First,
this item for pleasure. We must reduce
that by two-thirds; then it will be all I
can afford. And your personal bills—they,
too. must be smaller, much smaller. I have
decided to have no more charge accounts.
I will give you an allowance for your per
sonal needs and you must pay for every
thing and make it do. I shall pay no more
bills. You can plan your expenditures so
your allowance covers whatever you buy. I *
shall make it a. generous one, but yon MUST
understand I shall not allow you to exceed
it.”
“Have you quite finished?” she asked.
She had not moved or changed expression
while I talked.
“For the present, yes. I will pay these,”
T picked up the bills, “hut it will be for the
last time. Shall I close the accuonts or
would you prefer to do it yourself?”
“They close automatically if I puTohase
nothing, do they not?”
“Naturally.”
“Very well, suppose you let it go at thta.”
She was taking it better than I had ex
pected, yet her quiet acceptance was un
natural. What did it forbode?
f'onl in urd Saturday. Renew your sub*
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THE TERTIUM QUID
By Dr. Frank Crane
'yxIIERE may, after all, be a tertlum quid,
I a third something. Things may not be
this or that, but something else wa
never have imagined.
We may be as unreasonable as a pettifog
ging lawyer in trying to make the universe
“say yes or no.” •
Is it immortality or annihilation after
death? Perhaps it is neither. It may not
be existence nor non-existence. It is con
ceivable that it may be something else.
You say there must La a God or not a
God. But may it not be a. somewhat,
neither a person nor a force, but something
that lies between?
To a man born deaf the sound of a
trumpet is entirely outside the range of hie
ideas; yet there is such a thing as a trum
pet sound.
We have but five senses. May there, not
be things all about us only perceivable to
other senses we do not possess? We have
an eye to catch a light-ray, but have we any
organ adjusted to an electric ray, nr ?n
ultra-spectrum ray, or a radio-active ray, or
psychic impulse?
On this planet personality is exprnss'-d
by flesh; but on another planet might not.
a soul be expressed by flame or mist? Per
haps by a molecule?
Here we are each either male or female.
On Mars may there not he a being that has
no sex?
Among our ideas is the idea that there
may be other ideas no man ever had.
There are bu' three dimensions in our
ken; hut already men have suspected a
fourth dimension that, is not length, breadth
nor thickn«-~-. and considerable has been
written thereof.
(Copyright, 1321.)