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THE TRI WEEKLY JOURNAL
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A BIBLE THOUGHT FOR TODAY
Bless the Lord, 0 my soul, and forget
not all His benefits: Who forgiveth all
thine iniquities, Who healeth all thy dis
eases, Who redeemeth thy life from de
struction, Who crow net h thee with loving
kindness and tender mercies. The Lord
executeth righteousness and judgment for
all that are oppressed. The Lord is mer
ciful and gracious, slow to anger, and
plenteous in mercy. He null not always
chide, neither will He keep*His anger for
ever. He hath not dealt with us after
our sins, nor rewarded us according to our
iniquities. For as the heaven is high
above the earth, so great is his mercy
toward them that fear him.—From the
103rd Psalm.
Land of the Sun and tire Rose
Few people living in the South all the
year round have an adequate idea of
how distinctive the region is in the
estimation of the common countrv, and
how much, despite criticism, it is loved.
There are here hereditary forces, a tradi
tional Americanism, a devotion to ideals that
have won over old animosities. The best
testimony to faith in the South is found' in
the investment here of capital, and in the
steady stream of people from the North
and West pouring in to link their future
with hers.
The Carolinas, Tennessee, Georgia and
Florida, especially, are feeling the effect of
i new Southward movement, started by sev
3ral circumstances, the first of which is the
lavishness of nature, and next the kind
heartedness and sincerity of the people.
Question the newcomers on any read, and
their answers, however phrased, will mean
just that. And some will testify that they
want to escape from "the foreigners.’’
How unthinking, then, how mistaken, the
course of young men and women who go
from our colleges to other sections to take
up their life work. What an inconsistency,
that hundreds of thousands of people from
the outside should realize the great ad
vantage of life in the South, and our own
sons and daughters wander away to contend
for half chances elsewhere!
The extent to which we are losing from
our intellectual forces is seen in college
statistics. Os the graduates of the Univer
sity of Georgia, Tech, Emory and Oglethorpe
on record May 13, 1924, five thousand nine
hundred and eighteen have wandered into
other sections—nearly one-third the total
number. There are four thousand and fifty
Tech men in Georgia, but three thousand
four hundred and fifty are gone to other
fields.
These are college statistics; what the pub
lic schools have sent away from our borders
cannot be even guessed; and there are,
besides, the young men of the country dis
tricts who have gone from the farms.
The economic loss has been great; no man
can count it; but that does not end the
story. The human side of it cannot be told;
for behind the figures are the heartaches
of broken families; fathers have lost their
sons on whom their hopes were centered;
mothers have seen sons and daughters pass
away to come no more to the shelter of the
old home trees.
The colleges and schools that equipped
these young men and women for the con
flict of life are mostly supported by public
funds. To say that through foresight and
provision the products of these institutions
should be kept within the state, if only as
* matter of business, is stating a proposition
too apparently sound to need argument.
It is equally clear that while we welcome
all who come to add their energies to the
State s development, due consideration
should always be given to the Georgians we
have educated. It is just here that public
neglect shows plainest. We have not cared
for our own as we should. It is largely our
fault that we have lost them.
Near Rome, in the upper part of Georgia,
; ly and cheerfully see
that things are made
; right.
We want every sub
scriber to get The Tri
i 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.
there is an institution now known to every
section of the country as the Berry Schools,
and eloquently called the greatest expression
of a single soul in America. It is an estate
of six thousand acres of rolling land, field
and forest, with mountains in the back
ground. Here are gathered some six hun
dred boys and girls from rural districts of
the South, who, but for the heroic devotion
of a woman, would have had no chance in
life. Little by little, through a matchless
vision, and unshakable faith, she has equip
ped this place with great buildings for the
care and training of her adopted children,
surrounded herself with young men and
women inspired to God-like nobility of pur
pose by her example, and is steadfastly
carrying on for immortality. Thousands
■ have come and gone from Mount Berry to
j usefulness in the world. Five hundred of
these boys of the mountains, and the farm,
fought in the great war, and some gave
their lives. Sergeant York was of the same
type as these Berry boys. The great truth
of this work is, that these boys do not leave
the South. As a rule they go back home
trained to victory over circumstance of
birth and environment; for in their souls is
the great desire for service to their kind.
This school, a recognized model for all
where students may pay by labor for their
training, should be a Mecca for tho univer
sities, for we take it that nowhere in
America is manliness and the value of per
sonal independence more beautifully taught;
and nowhere is found a more striking exam
ple of the mastery of soul and mind over
matter. Here one sees great buildings
erected by boys, grounds laid out with keen
regard for beauty, and broad fields rich
with harvests wrested from the sun and the
soil by the unconquerable spirit of the'
Southern boy.
Over the entrance to Mount Berry is an
arch bearing the inscription: "THE GATE
OF OPPORTUNITY." It tells the great
story of the school, and of the 'devote'.'
woman who heads it. At the far end of th,
farm one comes on another arch and tin
Inscription, "The Road of Remembrance.'
This marks the beginning of a four-mil.
road leading back to the boys’ school, and
was built in memory of those who lost their
lives in the World war. In the building of
this road everyone, including the teachers,
contributed personal labor.
Great highways lead out of the North and
the West into the Southland, and hither
ward over these almost unbroken streams
of travel are flowing. One of them, crosses
the Potomac at Washington; others come
through Kentucky and Kansas. Wherever
they enter, the South should erect great
arches bearing the Berry legend, "The Gate
of Opportunity.’’ They would- thrill the
public mind as invitations to the splendors
of our waiting fields and forests, our inex
haustible mines, our great water powers;
to the land of the peach and melon, the
citrus and the snowy cotton; to balmy
breezes, and marvelous sunsets.
But on the southern side of these arches,
let there be carved the other legend, "The
Road of Remembrance,” that when our own
sons and daughters pass out, they may know
that with all their faults of Judgment and
forgetfulness of patriotism, we shall love
them still—we do dwell in the land of the
sun and the rose.
PRESCRIBING BY MAIL
By H. Addington Bruce
HERE is a typical letter of inquiry from
a young woman afflicted with the na
tional malady of nervousness:
*Up to two years ago I was vigorous and
happy. J hen I began to lose weight, and,
without any reason, to become worried and
distressed.
"I have difficulty in sleeping, my digestive
power is poor, and, what is perhaps worst of
all, I tire at the least effort,
“Loud, sudden noises give me a palpitation
of the heart. Naturally I cannot do the things
I used to do, and altogether I feel miserable.
What is your advice? Would a change of
scene benefit me? 1 have been told it would.”
Conceivably a change of scene might be of
benefit to this nervous young woman. But it
would be folly to assure her that this is what
she most needs—or, for that matter, to suggest
any other specific remedy as certain to make
her well again,
7° r a fact which the nervous usually fail
to appreciate—the symptoms which go to make
up the condition of nervousness‘may be the
product of any one of most varied causes.
They may be brought on—as they often pre
- merely by undue attention to one's bodily
sensations, such attention being superinduced
by a too self-centered attitude to life, and
perhaps absence of satisfying occupation. Or
the nervous symptoms may be the sign of
some severe suppressed emotional conflict —
foi example, conflict brought on by unhappy
home conditions.
i But also the cause may be largely, even
mainly, physical.
Thus, nervousness such as that described
by the letter-writer may be associated with a
beginning of tuberculosis, or an intestinal in
toxication. or some other form of physical
| disease. Or it may be an indication cf the
■ presence of so-called focal infection in teeth,
tonsils, or the sinuses of rhe face
i Further than this, there is the possibility
that it is due to the fatiguing effects of eye
strain, or ear trouble, or t.ostural defect of
some sort, such as the postural defect asso
ciated with unsuspected weakness cf the arch
of the foot.
Under all these circumstances—and they by
no means exhaust the possibilities in the case
—it would be a cruel kindness to undertake to
I prescribe by mail. The one safe course would
j be to advise a thorough medical examination
as the first remedial step. No r until all pos
' sible bodily causes have ruled out would
i it be in order to suggest resort to self-training
or other psychological aids.
The nervous—and. for ’he matter of that,
the sick as a class—need to remember, in the
words of one competent physician:
“Symptoms do not make a diagnosis. Often
times what appear to the ron-medieal person
to be the same symptoms and sign in two in
dixiduals may be due to quite different causes.
“To attempt to give anything more than the
most general medical advice or treatmen* for
j any person, except on .he basis of a careful
! personal examination, is to court failure.”
And. in the event that the symptoms de
scribed are due to. or associate! with, some
progressive malady, it is also to -isk the loss
of precious time, a loss which mQ the
patient in real peril
i (Copyright,
HIS BROTHER’S WIFE
BY RUBY M. AYRES
CHAPTER XXI
Nigel’s Home
MISS VARNEY straightened out In
imaginary crease in the white bed
spread, and stepped back a pace to
look round the room with well-satisfied
eyes.
"If she doesn’t like this”—she appealed to
! Dawid/ who stood in the doorway watching
j her amusedly—"l am afraid she will be very
i difficult to please.”
"It looks very nice,” he admitted with
I mannish indifference. "They had no room
like this at the flat, at any rate.”
Miss Varney sighed.
"Foor Nigel! And he loved his home and
the country so much.”
A little cloud crossed her gentle face. For
a moment she lost herself in retrospection.
Now that he was dead and gone she
blamed herself that she had not cared more
for her younger nephew. David had always
been her favorite. She wandered now if per
haps Nigel had guessed as much.
It seemed Impossible that she would never
.see him again, or hear his teasing voice.
Tears filled her eyes, and splashed on the
white lace of her black bodice.
David moved towards her, and laid a hand
on her arm.
"Don’t cry,” he said. "Perhaps it's all
for the best—and he went out as he would
have wished.”
Miss Varney stifled a sob.
She wiped her tears resolutely away, and
tried to smile.
"I’m an old silly, I know. Forgive me,
David. And now we must hurry or the child
will be here before we are ready. Tell me
again what she is like, and if you think she
really and truly cared for Nigel.”
"I am quite sure she did,” Bretherton an
' swered quickly. "I should say she cared for
him tremendously; she looked broken-heart
ed when I first saw her. We shall have to
be very kind to her, Aunt Florence. She
will be able to do with all the petting and
coddling you can give her.”
"Poor child, she is more than welcome.”
Miss Varney stood on tiptoe, and dropped a
;iss on David’s chin. "I think it’s so good
f you to have her here. She ought to be
ery grateful.”
She went away hurriedly, leaving David
landing in the doorway of the room that
lad been his brother’s.
Miss Varney had certainly done her ut
most for the comfort of her guest. There
were flowers on the mantelshelf and dress
ing table, books on a low shelf, a cushioned
chair and a writing table, and a small
cheery fire burning in the grate, for the
summer seemed to have gone and the after
noon was chilly.
What would she think of it? he wondered,
a little curiously. She had only been to the
Red Grange once before, so she had told
| him.
I He turned slowly away, drawing the door
i to behind him before he went down the wide
staircase to his own study.
The car had already gone to Selmont, the
nearest station. If the train was punctual
she ought to be here in a few moments.
Even as he glanced at his watch he heard
the motor horn as the car turned in at the
drive. He stopped, irresolute.
A servant, crossed the hall to open the
door. Miss Varney came hurrying down the
stairs.
1 "That must be she, David. Oh, dear, Ido
feel so nervous!”
David looked a little nervous himself. He
passed a hand rather agitatedly across the
back of his head, and glanced at himself in
a long mirror that hung on one wall: but he
went forward composedly enough when the
car drew up at the step, and a servant
opened the door.
A little dying ray of sunshine struggled
through the gray sky as Mary Furnival step
ped from the car, shining warmly upon her
sweet face and black-robed figure.
"Sunshine to greet her! A good omen,”
thought Miss Varney, as she unceremonious
ly brushed David aside and went, forward
with outstretched hands.
"My dear child, I am so glad to see you.
Welcome home —to Nigel's home!”
The girl’s eyes went past the little lady’s
kindly face to where David stood, and a sort
of fear momentarily filled her eyes. But it
was gone immediately and she returned Miss
Varney's impulsive kiss with warmth.
"I am glad to come, and I think it is
sweet of you to want me.”
She shook hands with David composedly
enough, but she did not raise her eyes to
his. Her lips were a little tremulous. Now
the first flush of excitement had died away
she looked pale and ill.
"Tea will be, all ready when you have tak
en off your hat. David, I told them to put
tea in your study—it’s so much more cozy
there. You don’t mind, do you?”
She did not wait for an answer. The two
women went away up the wide staircase to
gether.
David Bretherton stood looking after them
with a little frown. She was glad to come,
he was sure of that; the tone of her voice
and the tremulous agitation of her face told
him more than an effusion of ■words could
have done. But he remembered how she had
avoided meeting his eyes.
He went into the study, where tea was
laid by the fire, and stood looking across
the room with thoughtful eyes.
Continued Thursday. Renew your sub
scription now to avoid missing a chapter of
this splendid story.
PUNGENT PARAGRAPHS
Some men think they are presidential pos
sibilities when they don't know a single plat
itude. —Atlantic City Daily Press.
In some of the recent musical comedies it
seems to us that art has gotten terribly near
to nature.—Cincinnati Times-Star.
i
Americans can mop up in the Olympics if
they will include plain and fancy diving
through windshields.—Birmingham News.
As a general rule congress adjourns about
When the neighbors notice a caller who
habitually comes around to the back door
after dark, they don't know’ whether it's a
friend of the cook or the family bootlegger.
—Roanoke Times.
Maybe we ought to be thankful that con
i gress made some effort to reduce taxes in
stead of devoting the time to raising its
own salary.—Des Moines Register.
The man who has no sense of humor is
apt to get funny at the wrong time.
He was a tall, dark, military looking man,
with an eagle eye and a manner as of one
born to command.
j With an air of authority he shouted to
others and directed all where to go and what
to do with perfect presence of mind. And
every one obeyed him.
He was a man whom one could imagine
leading a forlorn hope, rescuing his regi-
guns from the enemy or being one
of the foremost in the quelling of a riot. He
might have been Napoleon, Gordon, or any
one of the world's great heroes.
But he was not. In reality he was only a
park-keeper, clearing the park of children at
»dusk.
BY AIRS. 17. H. FELTON
THE PREVAILING HIGH TEMPERATURE
FTER the long delayed spring weather,
which continued cool to the advent
of June, then old Sol concluded to do
a stunt that would be worth remembering as
to a record hot time. To my dear country
home readers, to whom I am so fondly at
tached and who have been saying amen to
my scribblings in The Semi-Weekly and later
Tri-Weekly Journal, for nearly a quarter of a
century, I am writing these lines in a big
Atlanta hospital, where I am staying awhile
because of a prolonged pain in my right ear.
If my article is brief (and not very communi
cative) remember, I am waiting for the good
doctors to decide on what is best to do, for
this troublesome ear—hoping I may be priv
ileged to go home in the near future, with
less of suffering on my part, as now prevails.
( God’s preserving mercies have been so
great, during a whole lifetime, I am trying
to be truly grateful and also as patient as
the circumstances will admit.
I have been trying to remember some of
the "hot old summer times,” and I recall a
spell of torrid temperatures iu 1876, when
the Philadelphia Centennial exposition was
on and in "full blast,” so to speak. Congress
was in session as late as Demo
cratic politicians fighting to elect Sam J.
Tilden, and the Republicans to elect Ruther
ford B. Hayes.
It was the first time after the Civil war
that Confederate southerners had a chance
to travel generally, for railroad rates were
made attractively low and the show at Phila
delphia was "worth while.” But the mer
cury got up to sizzling heat. Newspaper re
porters made daily jokes of the tourist gangs
that crowded Washington City, as well as
Philadelphia. They said of the southerners
that they "bought a linen duster aud a palm
leaf fan as their equipment for the journey.”
Sunstrokes were painfully common in the
northern states, and our little family had to
get out in a Washington City suburb to with
stand the excessive heat of the hot capital.
The lowlands of the Potomac river were cov
ered with marsh weeds and green scum.
Where the beautiful Potomac park appears
at this time, with the magnificent Lincoln
memorial, there were slimy marshes and va
rious small fishing craft in evidence.
At night the people who expected to sleep
at all must have a southern exposure to their
sleeping quarters, otherwise there was noth
ing doing as to nightly repose. The southern
exposure meatit a land breeze which came
along the river route from the neighborhood
of Hampton Roads and Portsmouth and Nor
folk; and (before window screens were in
vented) the atmosphere was filled with small
insects that were sleepless.
I remember a torrid spell during the rush
of the Chicago exposition, in August, 1893.
I had rooms at the Palmer House, and my
son was with me for a two weeks’ visit to the
World's fair. The heat accumulated until it
was a risk to walk in the purlieus of Jackson
Park, in the middle of the day.
As usually happens, the hot spell broke up
in a violent thunderstorm, and the folks,
ourselves included, arose from our beds,
dressed, and on each floor of the big hotel
they gathered in big reception halls to.watch
the end of the storm, where thunder roared
and lightning blazed Incessantly for hours.
I was told next day that the three hundred
hotel laundry girls spent the most of the
night on their knees, not being sure but the
wicked city, which called itself the White
City, would not get what was coming to it
at that time.
This was a memorable Friday night, and
the succeeding Sunday afternoon had a sim
ilar exhibition of electricity, with something
like a tornado accompaniment. My son, then
a youth in his teens, decided after Sunday
dinner was over, to ride in the big exposition
steamer, which could carry five thousand
passengers at one time, and Lake Michigan
was as quiet as a lake when he started on
the excursion trip to the Fair grounds. But
the elements were then at work with torrid
heat, and the steamship did not go to Jack
son Park, but the winds and the waves drove
it far out. It was an anxious afternoon to
me, when my son did no come in at supper
time, nor at bedtime either. The storm in
the city was fearful to experience, and news
was circulated that a number had drowned
in the wrathful lake, which was now dashing
its big w’aves on the Lake Shore.
When the Georgia boy reached the hotel,
dripping wet, from the steamship that put
life-preservers on the drenched passengers,
and floundered into its accustomed berth,
and was glad to do it once more, there were
two glad people whose hearts had been
QUIZ
Any Tri-Weekly Journal reader can
get the answer to any' question puzzling
hini by writing to The Atlanta Journal
Information Bureau, Frederic J. Has
kin, director, Washington, D. C., and in
closing a two-cent stamp for return
postage. DO NOT SEND IT TO OUR
ATLANTA OFFICE.
Q. What is the temperature of the center
o£ a cake of ice which has been for a long
time in a temperature of 100 degrees below
zero? O. L. M.
A. The Bureau of Standards says that the
■ temperature of the cake of ice will be the
same as that of the surrounding air, in the
case you mention, 100 degrees below zero.
Q. Is it correct to say “She sat in back of
me?’’ B. B. H.
A. It is Incorrect. The sentence should
be, “She sa-t behind me.”
Q. Can glass be made from ordinary sand?
C. W. F.
A. The Bureau of Standards says that
glass can be made from practically any
sand having the proper degree of fineness
and being relatively free from impurities,
chief among which may be mentioned iron.
A high iron content, however, is not objec
tion in case of certain black glasses and for
certain types of bottle glass.
Q. How did Illinois get its name as the
Sucker State? M. H.
A. One authority thus explains the origin
of the name “Sucker” as applied <o people
of Illinois: “The marshy nature of the land
near the first settlements by the rich bot
tom, full of mud-fish of the lamprey order,
j and their manner of feeding, suggested the
nickname, together with, the coincidence
that, as the suckers ascend the stream and
return at certain seasons, the natives of
‘Egypt’ around Cairo went up to work at
times in the Galena mines, but came home
to till their farms.”
Q. Why does a dealer offer the box when
a man wants to buy a cigar? F. L.
A. The bureau of internal revenue says
that the law states that after a cigar has
been removed from the box it cannot be
returned. It is, therefore, generally cus
tomary for a dealer to offer the box when
a customer is purchasing cigars.
Q. When were public schools started in
Scotland? J. D. W.
A. Elementary schools were established
in Scotland by the provisions of the Ele
mentary Education Act of 1872. Prior to
that, however, education had been regu
lated by the Scottish parliament. As early
as 1696 an act was passed for settling
schools, providing for the maintenance of
a school in every parish in connection with
L kirk.
THE COUNTRY HOME
TUESDAY, JULY I. 1»24.
strained with torturing anxiety for many
hours, to whom the Chicago storm had been
always an exciting memory. Many small
boats went down, and many bodies of the
drowned floated into view during that dismal
night of terror, where wind, thunder and
lightning vied with each other in doing their
terrible best, if best is the word to fit its
case.
It is almost certain that tornado storms
will grow out of excessive high temperatures,
and the west has already had a big storm of
devastation, terror and immense destruction
of property within the last week. Nineteen
hundred and twenty-four has been a most
erratic year thus far. Six months already
passed have been filled -with extremes of
both heat and cold.
We are all ready to count our personal
safely as a choice blessing when we are de
livered from the terrors of warring elements,
that are so powerful .that human minds can
not direct cr divert,' but must suffer until
tile storm exhausts itself.
THE EXTRAORDINARY GROWTH OF
ATLANTA
MY MEMORY goes back to 1842, when
I first saw the ground, which was
Marthasville, but later Atlanta, has
since occupied. This was eighty-two years
ago, and the scrubby growth on this ground
was repellent, as to future farm prospe.cts,
and the land was generally called a "poor
chinquapin ridge!” It is tradition that Hon.
John C. Calhoun passed along this way when
there was only talk of a railroad, but he
glimpsed future greatness, if his words were
correctly reported. He said there would be
a big city hereabouts. Generally great cities
must have a big river or water frontage of
some sort to attract city builders, but At
lanta pre-empted a dry chinquapin ridge,
with the Chattahoochee river seven or eight
miles distant. The water supply was con
fined to a few springs and many wells, each
property owner digging his own well for per
sonal use and maintenance.
But Atlanta’s chinquapin ridge was really
the dividing land—that sends the waters on
one side into the Atlantic ocean, and on the
other side into the Gulf of Mexico. The Chat
tahoochee waters turn to the gulf, and the
Alcova and Oconee rivers turn towards the
Atlantic ocean.
It was many, many years before Atlanta
ventured to bring water from the Chatta
hoochee river into the city limits and there
were only hook and ladders, with bucket
brigades, to fight conflagrations.
Decatur was the county site, until Fulton
county was formed, with Atlanta as the
county site. I well remember a big smallpox
scare that started in Atlanta, iu Thompson’s
hotel, and the jail prisoners were conveyed
to the Decatur jail for Safekeeping. That
occurred in 1849. Our family fled to the
river farm and the ups and downs were
many. The doctors experienced great diffi
culty in securing vaccine matter for vaccina
tion. Some of us -were treated with little
slivers of ancient scabs obtained, as I recol
lect, in. Charleston, S. C. With a common
lancet the skin was lifted on the arm and a
bit of scab was inserted, pushed under, and
sometimes it "took” and sometimes it didn’t.
Up to that time smallpox was not known in
this part of Georgia. As I recall, several per
sons died in Atlanta. Thompson’s hotel oc
cupied the present site of the Kimball House
and was from the beginning a head center
for Georgia politics. The bloody encounter
between Hon. Alex Stephens and judge Cone,
of Greensboro, occurred in this Thompson’s
hotel. "Little Aleck” was the idol of the
Whigs and nearer the peak of his political
popularity at that time, perhaps, than ever
again.
There were small oaks In the rear of
Thompson’s hotel. Visitors hitched their
horses in these woods, until livery stables
came along in course of time.
Whitehall street captured the stores and
shops, and has seemed to hold its grip up
to date.
When Sherman reached Atlanta it had
grown amazingly. When he captured it the
Confederacy was cut in two parts, and the
tide had turned in defeat.
I saw Atlanta when the Union station was
a mass of broken brick and mortar. I was
sick for two w'eeks in a once fine home,
where two big shells had passed through the
second story and the shells did not explode,
but went on their way to break up things
further on. When we remember that. At
lanta was on the rocks, with everything to do
over again, it is reasonable to inquire, why
does Atlanta grow and grow, while so many
towns stagnate and wither up?
A REASON FOR LOVE
By Dr. Frank Crane
THEY were no longer young. He was
just past and she was almost fifty.
They had made a little wild excur
sion together. One spring day, when Old
Nick was in the air, one of those premature
ly warm August days that come sometimes in
May, they were walking along the street in
Paris, wondering where they should go to
dinner.
Oh, no, no! Nothing of that kind. Bless
you, they had been married so long that they
had a grandchild. They were Americans. He
happened to be working in Paris. She was
his wife.
Still, for all that, the Old Nick was in the
air, the eglantine trees were budding in
the Luxembourg gardens, and even these two
felt they simply had to do something out of
the way.
So they took the first tram-car that came
along and rode out to the end of the line.
They were landed at one of the gates of
;he city, right by the fortifications. There
they found a little restaurant and dinner on
the sidew r alk.
They began to talk about love. When
two have been married a quarter of a cen
tury talk of love you’d better listen; you
might learn something.
There is just one point brought out in
their conversation that I wish to note. It
struck me as a rather ingenious one.
“How do you know you love me?” he
asked.
“Well,” she responded, after reflecting a
bit (perhaps if she had been twenty she
would have answered by a look only, but
now she took the question up seriously, as if
anxious to answer herself as well as him),
“one reason is that if I’m ever in trouble, if
I should be sick or have any calamity hap
pen me, or anything terrible, I should want
you, first of all.
“And another reason is that whenever I
have any pleasure, when anything in the way
of good luck comes, or when I see anything
beautiful, my first instinct is to find you, to
enjoy it with me.”
“Those,” he replied, “are really good rea
sons.”
They w’ere silent a bit. The Past is al
ways a third guest when fifty-year-old lovers
talk. He was in the thoughts of both.
Then she added:
“And most of all it is the feeling, the
certainty, that no matter what I do or say,
no matter what happens or can possibly hap
pen, you would be right by me; you would
just be for me; you’d just be there, asking
no questions, but just be for me. whoever,
whatever was against me—till death.”
(Copyright, 1924.)
MY WIFE AND I
BY CAROLYN BEECHER
CHAPTER XXXIII
REMAINED at home,” Natalie said, R
I peculiar note in her voice. "There was
no place I particularly wished to go.”
She had wanted to go to Newport and
when I refused her she wouldn’t go aajft*
where, was my thought. But I made no *
reference to her disappointment.
"You should have gone with me,” I said.
"It was glorious up there in the woods.
Next year I shall try to stay at least a
month.”
"I am glad you enjoyed yourself,” she
returned in a quiet spiritless way. Thera
hayl been something strange about her,
something unusual that I felt but could not
analyze. Now I knew; it was the lack of
spirit, of her usual vivacity, which had
never before been lacking even when things
did not go to her liking. What had hap
pened to deaden her voice, to affect her to
such an extent? '
“I’m afraid you found it dull, especially
after your mother left,” I returned, looking
keenly at her. "We must make up for it.
I’ll have to hustle down to the office now,
but we’ll go on a little spree tonight. Mako
up your mind where. I’ll he home early.”
"Very -well,” she replied in the sama
voice.
I chatted with Uncle Robert for a few
moments and was going through a mass of
accumulated mail when Kirk Brooks came
into my office.
"Here’s half of what I owe you,” he said
without preamble.
"But it isn’t due yet,” I said as I rosfcj/
shook hands with him and drew up a chaif
near my own. •- ■’
"I know, hut—” he hesitated, showing
embarrassment. "Natalie told me she
bought all those things for mother, that
she charged them to you—that you refused
to pay the bills and that that was why she
sent them* to me. Yon did perfectly right
to refuse,” he said, recovering himself. Moth
er didn’t need all those folderols and if sha
did it wasn’t up to you to pay them—>
you didn’t marry the family.”
"You told Natalie you borrowed the
money from me?”
"No. I thought perhaps you wouldn’t
care to have her know under the circum
stances. But Natalie gave me that,” point
ing to the money he had laid on the desk.
"Natalie gave you five hundred dollars!
She must have had mighty little left for
herself these last few weeks.”
"I took it because I had to,” her brother
went on, "and I think I am right in letting
Natalie help. Mother never would have
been so extravagant by herself, and from
what Natalie said to me I think she feels
it her duty to pay me.
"I’ll get you the rest—someway—when
it is due,” he added after a considerable
silence during which my mind had been
working rapidly,
"Never mind worrying about it, Kirk.
Pay it when you can. But I want your
promise never to let Natalie know you bor
rowed that money from me. I would rather
lose the other five hundred than have her
know.”
"I never shall tell her. And, Bruce, I
wish I could make you understand how I
felt when I found out I had borrowed your
money to do the very thing with it that
you had refused to do. I never felt so
mean, so small in my life. It was all I
could do to get up courage to come here
today and tell you.”
"Don’t feel that way, old man.” He had
risen to go and I also stood, extending my
hand. "I want to see more of you, Kirk.
Y’ou and I must become better acquainted.”
"It’s fine of you to say that, Bruce. I’ll
drop in here occasionally.”
After he left I sat for a time staring
straight ahead, seeing nothing. Natalie, ex
travagant Natalie, had saved the money I
had given her —her personal allowance and
what I had given her for her vacation—to
pay her mother’s bills. After a bit I re
laxed and went on with my work. I would
take her action as a good sign, believe her
conscience had troubled her. She had der
nied herself —something I never had known
her to do. But—it was for her brother sha
had done this, not for me.
We dined at a smart hotel, then went to
the theater. Natalie had planned the eve
ning as I had suggested. As we were put
ting on our wraps after dinner a Mrs.
Storm, quite a social favorite, came over
to us.
"Madame Elsie was asking after you to
day,” she told Natalie. "She wanted to
kriow if you were, still away. T think sha
is worrying for fear you’ll buy your gowns
elsewhere. T don’t blame her for wanting
to dress you; T don’t know anyone W'ho is
a better advertisement for her. You have
such exquisite taste, to say nothing of het
own. and you wear your clothes so well.”
"Madame needn’t worry,” came Natalie’s
cool tones. "I haven’t bought any nej 1
clothes lately.” yj
For the first time I noticed Natalie hair 7
on a dress she had worn several times be
fore, one I had told her was particularly
becoming, a dull feathery green, changeable
in different lights. I felt uncomfortable,
although she looked charming. She had not
bought any new clothes because she had
given her brother her money. Yet I had
no intention of reimbursing her. She had
a very large wardrobe and must keep within
her allowance.
As I draped her cloak about her shout-,
ders I 'whispered that she was lovely. feh<
shrugged and said: ou are easily
pleased.”
Continued Thursday. This story is near
ing the end. Renew now to avoid missing
the final chapters. -
MY FAVORITE STORIES
BY IRVIN COBB
A follower of the horses was wintering
in New Orleans. In some localities he would
have been a mystery, but long ago raco
track people learned not to burrow into gn;
individual’s affairs—in fact, not even to
care.
This person, whose familiar title was Bug,J
seemed to have money enough to pay hi«»
room rent, retrieve his laundry and get
enough of the provender that is consumetij
from counters.
One day somebody suffering from a gen
erous impulse, took Bud io dinner. For
the first time in weeks he had his legs under!
a table and he certainly went to it. As ha’
plied knife and fork, giving the knife pref
erence in the play, a person watching him
from the rear might have been pardoned
for assuming that here was a snare-drum
mer working at the trade.
After dinner Bud lit a cigar and strolled
along Canal street, puffing on it. Under
the ambrosial glow of the big feed he was
profoundly happy and everything was rosy.
He was halted by a friend he hadn’t sftfed,'
In months.
"Rud, my boy, is It yon?” exclaimed the.
other. "No need to ask you how you are.
You look all of it. But, tell me, how are
things breaking for you?
"Great,” responded Bud briskly. "I’m
even on the races and this—” here he
curved his arms in a semicircle to parallel'
his rotund and swollen front, "all this is
velvet.”
(Copyright, 1924.)