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THE TRI-WEEKLY JOURNAL
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A BIBLE THOUGHT FOR TODAY I
For whom the Lord loveth he chasten
eth, and. scourgeth every son whom he re- \
ceiveth. Now no chastening for the pres
ent seemeth to be joyous, but grievous;
nevertheless, afterward it yieldeth the
peacable fruit of righteousness unto them
who' are exercised thereby. Wherefore,
lift up the hands which hang down, and <
the feeble knees; and make straight paths !
for your feet, lest that which is lame be
turned out of the way; but let it rather
be healed. —The Letter to the Hebrews \
12:6, 11, 12, 13.
The Greatest Speech Since
Woodrow Wilson Led
NONE but an honest, none but an able,
none but a liberal and a fearless man
could have produced the speech in
which John W. Davis, standing amid the hills
of his native West Virginia (hills to which
as boy and man he had lifted up his eyes for
help) accepted Democracy's leadership for
Jhe oncoming battle. A speech ft. Is which
few living Americans could equal either in
felicity or In force, revealing at once the
thinker and the doer, a wise head, a great
heart, a statesman worthy of Woodrow Wil
son's fallen mantle and flaming sword.
In this truly epochal utterance Mr. Davis
is first critical, and severely so, but. only that
he may clear the way for things constructive.
With strokes as sharp and inging as a pio
neer's ax hewing through the jungle, he lays
existing evils bare; and then he builds.
Hjs recital of the "multiplied scandals of
these melancholy years" since the party of
Faltand Newberry and Lodge and Forbes took
the helm closes with an arraignment that
will bring many a flinching reply, but never
an effectual answer: “I indict the Repub
lican party in its organize capacity for hav
ing shaken public confidence to its very foun
dations. I charge it with having exhibited
deeper and more widespread corruption than
any that, this generation of Americans has
been called upon to witness. 1 charge it with
complacency In the face of A that corruption
and with 111-will toward the efforts of honest;
men to expose It. I charge it with gross
favoritism to the privileged and with utter
disregard of the unprivileged. I charge it
with Indifference to world peace and timidity
in the conduct of our foreign affairs. I
charge it with disorganization, division and
incoherence; and on the record I shall ask
the voters throughout the length and breadth
of this land to pass judgment of condemnation,
as a warning to all men who may aspire to '
public office, that dishonesty either in
thought, word or deed, will not be tolerated
in America. I can not doubt what verdict
they will render."
What has Democracy to offer byway of
healing and of hope, of power and service
and forward leadership when these grave
evil® have been purged away? It has more
than its high and honorable .raditions, mean
ingful as they are; more than Its historic
principles of self-government and equality of
human rights, potent as they are. It has in
John W. Davie a spokesman and a leader
who Is full worthy of the highest of those
traditions, who has made those principles
the heart of his own political convictions,
the compass of his own public life; who can
think problems through to definite solution,
and who baa the courage as veil as the calm
of noble ideals.
As token of all this, there could be nothing
finer or more thoughtful than his definition
nf a "Progressive." that commonly mouthed
and rarely understood term. ‘‘The words
■progressive' and 'reactionary'," he says,
"have been in American politics.
There has j.h< mjj. effort to define their
meaning. ate becoming mere tags
which politteUW! 'fks'.en on th •selves or
THE ATLANTA TRIWEEKLY JOURNAL
their 1 rzents. But, like shipping tags,
the thing which really counts is the destina
tion written on them—progress to what;
reaction from what —that is the essential
question. Motion may • - cither 1 ukwhrd or
forward; it may even be going around in
circles. From my point of view, he only de
serves to be called a progressive who can not
see a wrong persist without an effort to re
dress it, Or a right denied, witho an eff< t
to protect it; who feels a deep concern for
the economic welfare of the United States,
but realizes that the making of better men
and better women is a matter greater still;
who thinks of every government policy first
of all in its bearings upon human rights
rather than upon material things; who be
lieves profoundly in humun < ality and de
tests privilege in whatever form or in what
ever disguise; and who finds the true test
of success in the welfare of the many and
not the pr jerity and 'comfort of the few.
The civic unit of America rot. the dollar
but the individual man. All that goes to
make better and happier and freer men and
women is progress; all else reaction. Pro
gressives of this sort, though they may not
care to use the name, nevertheless in their
hearts are Democrats."
There speaks the soul of the party of Jef
ferson and Jackson and Cleveland and Wil
son; there breathes the spirit of the truly
liberal in all ages and all lands, from the
Athens of Pericl . to the England of Glad
stone, and the upward-reaching, though
misrepresented, America of today. To such
str.''smanship r 1 Illiberal foreign policy
would be utterly out of the question. With ,
John W. Davis in the White House, America
will resume her ’ onted and rightful place of
wise helpfulness and honor among the na
tions of the earth.
And now mark the warmly human pulse of
his closing words: “To the party which
honors jne with its leadership I owe every ,
effort which my faculties will allow; and to
my fellow countr; ten whose support you bit '
me solicit I owe the duty, first, to speak the
truth as I see it, wit .. fear, favor or eva- '
sion, and then so to bear myself that every
person in the land, no matter how high or
how humble, may feel l. at he has in me a
i.- : J, ani that every man may l:-_w that
be can look to his government for unflinch
ing honesty in thought and action."
Sa.:h is the man Democrat;- juts forward
for President, and such is the man America
needs.
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. C„ and
inclosing a two-cent stamp for return
postage. DO NOT SEND IT TO OUR
ATLANTA OFFICE.
Q. Is it. true that frozen elephants have
been found and eaten? C. L. McC.
A. The Smithsonian Institution says that
it is true that frozen elephants were found
in Siberia, and that the flesh was in such
a state of preservation that it could have
been eaten. However, it has no record of
anyone having attempted to use the meat as
food. It is understood that there are several
specimens preserved in museums throughout
the world.
Q Why is a soap bubble round? L. McC.
A A soap bubble Is round because it has
a surface tension which causes equal pressure
in all directions The soap bubble is covered
with a film and the tendency of liquids cov
ered by such a film is tn assume a spherical
shape.
Q. I agree with my mother that it Is use
less to turn the gas higher after the boiling
point is reached. Do foods cook faster if
permitted to boil vigorously? A solution
might help to lower my gas bill. R. I T
A. When liquids have reached the boiling
point, the temperature ceases to rise, and
the heat, supplied is used in changing the
liquids into steam.
Q. Has the prize been awarded for the
best answer to the question, “What is the
difference between a Democrat and a Re
publican? M. E. H.
A. Mrs. Esther M. Hollander of Baltimore,
won the prize in the contest conducted by the
Baltimore Sun. Her answer was: “A Re
publican is a person who thinks a Democratic
administration is bad for business. A Demo
crat is a person who thinks a Republican
administration is bad for business. Both are
right.
Q. Is there a legal reason that executions
always take place on Friday in Louisiana?
A. M.
A. There is nothing in the laws of the
State specifying that executions must take
place on Friday. T,he day is left entirely to
the discretion of the Governor who has the
authority to name the day. It has been the
custom, however, to select Friday.
Q. Are linseed and flaxseed the same?
What is O. P. oil meal? Is such meal good
for chickens? W. M. G.
’ A. Linseed and flaxseed are the same.
"0. P.” stands for old process. Oil meal is
fed to chickens, particularly during the molt
, ing season when 5 per cent oil meal will help
the growth of new feathers.
MY FAVORITE STORIES
By Irving S. Cobb
I was out in Minnesota on a fishing trip
not long ago. At a home In St. Paul we
were entertained by a most charming lady.
Tn the living room where we sat. after
dinner I was struck by a photograph framed
in silver and displayed upon the mantel,
lot an exceedingly handsome and well-
Iset-up hoy in his early teens.
I inquired who the original of the pic-
I ture might be.
“That,” explained the matron, “is our
i son—our only child. He’s off at camp for
I the summer."
j “What is his name?” I asked.
“I’ll spell it for you," said our hostess.
I “It's A-e-r-n.”
“Rather unusual," I said. “How do yon
pronounce it?”
"That all depends.” stated th? lady,
i "You see, ours was what they call a mixed
I marriage. As you may have guessed, I am
Jewish. My parents were orthodox Jews,
i while my husband, as you know, is of pure
i Irish descent. Both of us are proud of
the races to which we belong. When our
son was born each of us was naturally anx
ious that he should wear a name which
would be agreeable to the other and yet at
the same time would have a familiar and
affectionate sound in the ears of all con
cerned. So after a number of conferences
!we reached a compromise. My husband
rails him 'Erin* and I call him ‘Aaron.’ "
I (Copyright, 19 24.)
I MOVIE MAD
I
BY HAZEL DEYO BACHELOR
What has (gone before—Gloria King
comes to Hollywood with the idea of
making good in the movies. She be
comes hardened by the life, and is fool
ish enough to marry Rolf Templeton,
the great, screen star, a man she de
spises, but who she feels can help her
further her career. latter she discov
ers that, her ideas are all wrong, for
she makes good through talent alone.
But her life with Templeton has
changed her and ehe Is in danger of
being spoiled like the rest of the movie
mad colony.— Now go on with the
I st ory.
CHAPTER XXIX
A Night Ride
THE picture ended and the lights flash
ed on Gloria. Gloria drew her evening
1 cloak closer about her shoulders with
a petulant little gesture, and blinked her
eyes. She was suddenly conscious of a feel
| ing of intense irritation. Not even to her
self did she want to admit that Rolf had
done good work in this picture. She bad
summed him up as conceited, arrogant and
self-centered, wholly without talent and
making good in the movies simply because
of his undoubted good looks. In this pic
ture he had shown another side of him, he
had forgotten to pose, not once had he used
any of his ridiculous mannerisms, and the
result was amazingly good.
"I’ll say it’s some come-back,” Vera Vamp
was saying to Barry. "If Rolf's work in
this picture doesn’t hit the bald-headed
critics in the eye, I'm mistaken, that’s all.”
Then turning to Gloria ehe said with a curl
of her red lips, "some litle love scene,
wasn’t it, dearie? Os course, I didn’t play
it as well as you would have done it. What
was that the critics said about living your
part?”
There was more than a hint of cattiness
in the remark, but Gloria gave no sign that
she had noticed it. She knew, in fact, it
was common gossip around the colony that
Vera had for a long time been more or
less in love with Rolf. Before the advent
of Gloria, he had paid Vera some little at
tention. and, although Vera kept up a cer
tain amount of surface friendliness where
Gloria was concerned, she had never quite
forgiven her for carrying off the matrimo
nial prize of Hollywood.
Manning came up to them, his thin rath
er tired face wearing a look of intense sat
isfaction.
"Rolf put across some pretty good stuff,
don’t you think so, MYs. Templeton?” he
, aflked.
Goria forced into a corner, assented with
as much graciousness as the situation de
manded. A moment later she was turning
' to Barry with a request to take her home.
“I don't think I’ll go on to the party to
night,” she said in an undertone. "I’m
tirt>d, I haven't been getting enough sleep.”
She changed Ijer mind, however, when
’ they were half way to the bungalow, and it
was after 3 o’clock when Barry handed her
once more into his car. and they drove off.
Gloria’s head was aching violently and
she was dully conscious of the fact that
Barry had been drinking steadily all eve
ning. W T hen instead of driving her home,
he drove his car at a furious speed into the
open country, she leaned toward him and
above the roar of Jthe engine, ordered him
peremptorily to take her home at once.
He turned his head and grinned at her,
but he did not speak, nor did he pay the
slightest attention to what she had said. On
and on they went, the road winding ahead of
| them like a silver ribbon, and when at. last
i Barry slowed down the car, they were miles
outside of the town.
The car came to a stop with a grinding of
gears. After the. roar of the engine, the si
lence could almost be felt. Huddled inside
of her fur wrap. Gloria shivered. And then
before she knew what he intended to do,
Barry was reaching for her. She felt his
hot hands on her shoulders beneath her
wrap. In a moment she would be in his
arms, his lips reeking with alcohol would be
| pressing kisses on her. With all her might
i she raised h§r fist, and drove it straight at
j his face. The blow struck him full between
j the eyes with a sickening impact that turned
’ Gloria suddenly sick. The next moment he
was sagging forward forward over the steer
ing wheel, a limp and unconscious figure.
In a moment Gloria was scrambling out
of the car and around to the other side. Un
fastening the door, she pushed at Barry's
unconscious body with all her might, pushed
until she had edged him over into her place.
Then she got behind the steering wheel, and
prepared to drive the car home.
CHAPTER XXX
The Next Day
GLORIA felt somehow different after that,
night’s experience with Barry Carr,
i She had driven his car into Hollywood,
down the silent streets, already gray with
dawn, and then Into the garage hack of
Barry’s house. He had slept heavily all the
way, and Gloria had left him there sprawled
down in his seat, breathing stentorously, and
had picked her way back through the
town to her own little bungalow on the edge
of the town. She wa» so tired when she
finally reached home that she could hardly
drag one foot before another. Once there,
she removed her clothes, stepped into a
warm, perfumed bath and five minutes later
was lying between scented sheets in her
darkened bedroom.
She awoke at noon, looked lazily at the
clock and cuddled back on her pillow for an
other snooze. Somewhere far below the
telephone was ringing. It stopped, she heard
the murmur of Alice’s voice and then foot
steps in the corridor outside and a discreet
, knock on her door. Gloria, with her lashes
resting on her cheeks, did not move. After
a moment the knob turned and Alice* came
into the room. Gloria could hear her ad
vancing toward the bed, and she continued
to lie there motionless until, after what
seemed ages, Alice turned and tiptoed out
again.
She must, have slept again, for when next
she opened her eyes it was after 1 o’clock.
| She was still tired and the headache frnm
last night was still throbbing in her temples.
She felt suddenly a great distaste for her
life, a disinclination for work of any kind, a
longing to stay here in bed until she was en
tirely rested and the wish to see no one at
all for weeks and weeks and weeks.
Again that low knock on her door, and
this time Gloria called petulantly, "All right,
Alice."
Alice entered with a tray. Gloria looked
at it and then away again: she did not feel
hungry. Then Alice spoke.
"Mr. Manning has called three times.”
Gloria shrugged her shoulders.
"He told me to wake yon, but I said yon
had been out very late and that you had for
bidden me to call you in the morning.”
"Quite right, Alice.” Gloria’s tone was
light, mocking.
Nibbling at. the dainties on her tray. Glo
ria’s conscience was stabbing her. She knew
well that she had no right to keep Manning
waiting. They were shooting two important
scenes that day. Her absence had held up
the entire company; it wasn't fair. And yet.
after all, why shouldn’t she do as she liked?
Templeton always did. Catherine Charming
worked when she felt so inclined and absent
ed herself from the studio when she was
what she termed indisposed.
Wasn’t she (Gloria) more important than
I cither Templeton or Cath°rin<> Charming?
SOMETHING TO THjNK ABOUT
I . MEETING of British scientists has been
| A held in Toronto, Canada, very lately. A
1 statement was made by the British pres-
I Ident of the association that the race problem
would hold the floor for the next hundred
years in the United States.
He said immigration from Europe, from
the southeastern part, would replace the negro
labor in the South, and that emigrantion would
mix freely with the negro, and form a pop
ulation which will demand full political
rights.
In order to prevent giving the balance of
power to this mixed population, other sections
of the. country will make a political division
of this race of South Europeans and negro
mixture. He fpresaw a colored Free State
in existence after a long term of years had
elapsed.
These British scientists have incited the
American association to be their guests in
Toronto. After denying that disfranchisement,
segregation or deportation was possible, owing
to the rapid increase in negro population, the
l speaker declared that the time was coming
the same mixture which prevails in South
America will come here. An agreement has
already been made between Italy and Mexico,
whereby 50,000 Italians can settle in Mexico.
The Teutons are opposed to miscegenation, but
this opposition in Portugal and Italy does not
oppose mixture between the negro and the
tropical South American. He said if
the whites in the Southern States would di
vide now, between the Republican and Demo
cratic voters the negroes would hold the bal
ance of power. With immigration from South
ern Europe to the Southern States, promoting
a mixed race, could render impossible the
present refusal of the franchise to the mixed
race—a refusal of political and municipal
rights to any one who has a trace of negro
blood —now prevailing. The only way out
will be a closed Free State, like the Irish
Free State.
I can only give you the gist of the pres
ident’s address in my limited space, but I do
say, that negro emancipation had a big boost
in the conduct of the World’s War. Up to
that time the negro in the South was held
down, as it were, by physical force. Any
trace, of negro blood made social ostracism
for its possessor, and the main cry was, "Pro
tect White Supremacyl”
Any Republican president since Appomattox,
who would have insisted on giving equal and
social rights to negro soldiers, with the whites,
would have had curses heaped upon curses—
and vituperation to the limit.
Never shall I foYget the manufactured story
that Roosevelt had entertained Booker Wash
ington at the White House, eating at the
same table., I am sure I am within truthful
limits when I say the Southern States were
served down with billions of cartoons depict
ing Teddy helping Booker to “some more
chicken.” I have a number of them still, and
they will fiiark an era in Southern history,
where passion and prejudice ruled Georgia
with an iron grip.
A protracted cabinet meeting kept Booker
in the waiting room, until luncheon time was
long past. When the president was finally
NOISE AND NERVES
By H. Addington Bruce
FROM an editorial in the. New York
Medical Journal, and for the benefit
of all whom it may concern, I make
this quotation:
"It is well worth the effort of those who
administer offices to hand out the ‘Silence’
sign, and to undertake careful studies with
the view of reducing the tumult in which
many people are obliged to w<?rk.
"It is surprising how many sounds may
be gotten rid of hy proper office discipline
—how easily a quiet telephon, voice, far
more effective than trumpet-tongued bel
lowings, may be cultivated; how much
peace may he engendered hy rubber castors,
quiet typewriters, and padded adding ma
chines.
■ "Every sound eliminated increases the
general efficiency of the office force, and.
best of all, there will he a co-ordinate, im
provement in its mental health.”
The human nervous system, it cannot, be
too emphatically stated, was not by nature
organized to endure well a medley of noise.
For that matter, it is only within quite re
cent times that such an endurance-demand
1 was made on it.
Until the coming of the steam engine
i ushered in the era of machinery, the world
was essentially a quiet place for all its peo
ple. Since then, the progress of invention
1 and the drift to the cities have steadily re
duced the proportion of those who find the
i world really quiet.
Nay. it may truly be said that today the
1 most isolated rural settlement is not im
mune against an invasion of excessive noise.
I Even as I write these lines, in a New
j Hampshire farm-house, there comes the dls
-1 traction of a horrid and increasing noise.
! It Is an airplane hurtling through space, on
| its daily mission of carrying New York
j newspapers to a mountain resort.
j Happily its noise dies away in a few mfn
i utes, and the quiet of the countryside is re
| stored. Never, though, in our large cities.
[ with their grinding car-wheels, their armies
; of motors, their whistlings and their shriek
ing*. is there surcease from noise.
It is small wonder that, with their ever
increasing noisiness and their ever growing
populations subject to that noisiness, the
cities have continually become more no
torious as hot-beds of nervous maladies.
Whatever will abate the noise nuisance in
I them will be directly contributory to an
abating of nervousness.
And, ’as pointed out in the New York
Medical Journal editorial, much may he
< done by office managers in the way of be
ing rid of unnecessary noises.
Not a few managers already appreciate
this, and have introduced noise-deadening
; appliances, quietude-promoting office ar
rangements, etc., to the financial gain of
their firms as well as to the benefit of the
emuloyes. Rut too many still seem
to think that, noise has no bearing on either
efficiency or health.
Which Is far, very far. from being the
I case.
Hadn't the critics acclaimed her as the most
important discovery of the year? Manning
could afford to wait on her whims. She
wouldn’t be dragged through a knot hole for
any director.
And yet even as these thoughts darted
through her mind Gloria felt vaguely asham
ed. This pricking of her conscience served
only as a further irritant, and yet she could
not rid herself of it.
What had become of her vaunted ambi
tion? Where were hor glorious hopes for
the future? The memory of what had hap
pened last night brought the color to her
cheeks in a hot wave. Disgust swept over
her. Had she become one with these people
whom she had always despised? Was this
to be her life, this waking in the morning
tired out and cross, this dragging through
the day bored with everything, only to
plunge into a mad vortex of pleasure each
night so as to avoid any serious thought?
Saturday: “Rolf Comes Home.” Renew
>our subscription now to avoid missing a
chapter of this absorbing story.
THE COUNTRY HOME
BY MRS. W. H. FELTON
THURSDAY, AUGUST 11.
seated in his private office his plate of food
was waiting for him. These delays were so
j common that Mrs. Roosevelt made a custom
of sending two plates—because friends often
I were hurried, etc.
Therefore, when Rooker came in, President I
1 Roosevelt said to Booker, “My wife has sent !
lan extra plate. You take yours on your lap ;
j and eat it, and I'll do the same. Meanwhile I
■ you can tell me your grievance—or whatever |
,it is.” On that incident was built up a most
j extraordinary lie, with billions of cartoons.
(President Grover Cleveland entertained
Fred Douglas and his white wife at. a week- I
end function, but. that \vas hidden, smoothed ’
over, and the story suppressed in all Southern
Washingtonnaccounth mtwy u up up up up ,
newspapers. But. the Southern States became I
a population of mob protestors, and shrill !
screamers for white supremacy—when Roose
velt. was first elected.)
Hon. Wood row Wilson defeated Roosevelt I
because of it, but within a, year's time the ]
English-Virginia chief magistrate was appealed
to by a United States senator, by name Smith,
representing Maryland, to displace the horde
of negroes appointed by President Taft, and
I allow white Marylanders a chance at the jobs
! in Washington.
NOW WHAT HAPPENED?
In the spring of 1914 the Associated Press
sent the following all over the United States
(but suppressed very largely in the South),
i the president’s reply to Senator Smith: “When
: I was nominated I made an agreement that
; every negro employe in the departments shall
fill out his term, and that his place shall be
filled with another negro, if he dies or re
signs.” It remains in the files of the Macon
Telegraph, in the Atlanta State Capitol—ever
; since that episode—and the secretary of state's
office, occupied by Hon. AV. J. Bryan, was
literally swarming with the “Brother in
Black.” #
When the Draft Act was passed, the men
between 18 and 35 had to go—white and
| colored. They had the same uniform, and the
'.same food and pay. Over in Europe the col
! ored brother had his inning and his depend
ents here in the United States had the same
: remittances. It was a man born in the South
j who placed white and black soldiers on
i quasi-equality. They will draw the same pen
! sion and will receive the same bonus. No
j grandfather clause will hinder their voting at
' this time. If a colored ex-service man at
tempts to vote and he is prevented or cheated,
or the ballot >box thrown out, the Federal
troops will come to his defense and support.
Old things have passed away. New things are
in evidence now.
When I was a bit of a girl, my father
needed a miller for his flour and corn mills.
A man came along who said he was “Portu
gese.” It didn't take us long to discover that
he was a mulatto and with an octoroon wife.
He didn’t stay long and he took up the trail
calling himself Portugese. That was in slave
times, and when I read today of the “Colored
Free State.” which is coming with real Portu
gese and Dagos—crowding in on the South,
I can see the vision of a Colored Free State,
or something more pronounced, ready to oc
cupy the ground.
’RIGHTS OF THE INCOMPETENT
By Dr. Frank Crane
IT ought to be clearly understood that
some who employ violence are the worst,
enemies of labor. The men who shoot
policemen, smash factories, wreck freight
cars, and blow up houses are the men who
are doing most, toward retarding the move
ment of the laboring people toward their
full rights.
It ought also to be understood why this
is so.
It is so because the cause of labor is not
a class war. It is the cause of humanity it
self.
The cause of the masses is the cause of
justice. The case is not one where two
dogs are quarreling over a hone. Capital
and labor are not enemies in an eternal
feud. What one gets is not necessarily rob
bed from another. Their interests are mu
tual.
What the sensible, honest workingman
wants is not something that belongs to
J somebody else; he wants what belongs to
■ him.
He does not desire to beat anybody, whip
anybody, nor be avenged upon anybody.
All he wants is a square deal.
Now, violence and riot never wrought a
square deal for any man or class since the
foundation of the world. They Invariably
have ended in conditions of anarchy, and an
archy is the mother of tyranny. When
there is no law the people welcome a des
pot. For better is the rottenest ruler of
absolutism, with law and order, than the
i most vociferous democracy where life is
I insecure and property unstable.
We are of English blood. The English
genius stands for reform by law. Look at
the progress in England during the nine
teenth century. There was no revolution,
no destruction, yet the gains are considera
ble.
Note Catholic emancipation in 1827, the
' reform in suffrage in 1832. by which the
political power was practically transferred
from the upper to the middle classes; the
abolition of slavery in 1 834, by which no
English soil might hold a slave; the reform
l of the poor laws in the same year; the
factory act of 1 833 protecting children from
i constructive labor, the act of 1868, which
threw contested elections into the civil
courts to be quietly adjudicated: the acts
of 1 872 and 1883 concerning the ballot,
which have rooted bribery out of English
elections, transforming them from being the
most corrupt to being the purest in thj
world; the universal suffrage acts of 1884
and 1 885. adding 3,000,000 votes to the
polling lists; the municipal reform acts of
1835, in which the rubbish which city char
ters had gathered for ages was swept away:
the repeal of the corn laws in 1846, and
civil service reform of 1 870.
These and other changes in England con
stitute a change as profound as the French
revolution. They were brought to pass by
a nebple not only determined to have their
liberties but also equally determined not to
null the house down over their ears in the
process.
OUIPS AND QUIDDITIES
"Papa, why can’t we see the other side of
the moon?" inquired Tommie. This was
about th«* fortieth question h» had asked on
'that particular Monday evening.
"Because we can’t!" answered/his parent,
somewhat abruptly, from the depths of the
armchair, where he was vainly endeavoring
to read the evening paper.
“Well, why.” began the little fellow again,
"why can’t an elephant climb a tree?"
Father threw down his paper and jumped
• to his feet.
"What a. hoy you are for asking ques
tions!" he exclaimed. "I’d like to know
what would have happened if I had asked as
manv nuestions as you when I 4vas a boy.”
• “Perhaps." suggest’d the young hopeful.
"nerhap« you'd have been able to answer a
(few of mine."
HIS BROTHER’S WIFE ’
BY RUBY M. AYRES
CHAPTER XIA
"I Knew It"
IT was a. lovely afternoon, hut she had
nefer enjoyed a. drive less.
She was thankful when it, had ended,
and they were back once more at. the. Red
Grange. She nerved herself for the inevita
ble «cene. When she saw Fisher follow
David info his study, she stood for a mo
ment, with her hand pressed hard over he*
eyes.
Soon they would come for her —soon she
would he called down there to answer the ac- B
cusation Fisher would make against her. V
But. the moments passed, and nothing hap- la
pened. She could hear their voices rising ’
and falling, but nothing happened, and she
went, slowly upstairs.
But behind that closed study door, Fisher
had inquired of his friend with excited im
petuosity:
"David, who is that woman?"
Bretherton raised his eyes from a cigarette m _
he was lighting.
"What —woman?” he asked slowly.
"That, girl—Mary, as you call her?”
"Well?”
There was a little pause, then Fisher
broke out again excitedly:
"Who is she? You think she is Nigel’s
widow, I know, but ”
"I never said I thought so. I know as
well as you do who she is." Bretherton's
voice was rather flinty. “She is Mary Fur
nival,” he added deliberately. “I have
known it all along.” IwM
Monty Fisher stared at his friend for an 'll
instant, without speaking. Then:
“You knew it. all along, my dear fellow!
And you allowed this woman to deliberately
deceive you, and pass herself off as Nigel’s
widow?” ‘
“I knew it all along.”
There was something in the quiet answer
that Fisher resented. 4 «
He had been David Bretherton’s closest
friend for so .long that it struck him unpleas
antly to realize that he had been shut out
from all this.
Mary Furnival’s influence must be great
indeed.
After a moment he tossed his cigarette
into the fire, and shrugged his shoulders.
"Os course it's no business of mine; but I
admit I can't, understand you. What, is the
result going to be? How in Heaven's name
are you going to get rid of her?” 4
“I am not sure that I wish to get rid of I
her.” said Bretherton.
Fisher stared. A dawning suspicion crept,
into his eyes; he thought of his sister, and
her anger that, night, when she came back'
from the Red Grange. She, too, had seen
what, a hold this strange woman was obtain
ing in the house, even though she had been
a thousand miles from guessing the real
truth.
"You know your own business best, of
course,” he said, with an effort. "But it is |
my duty to warn you that you are doing a
very foolish thing. What has become of
Nigel’s widow, then?”
"I have no more idea than you have. I
have never seen her in my life.”
Bretherton laughed a. little.
"Don’t look so worried, Monty. I’m not a
child. I think you can trust me to manage
my own affairs. Believe me, I’ve a very
good reason for doing what, I am.”
“The woman’s an adventuress! It’s a
scandalous affair!”
Fisher flushed up as he spoke. He had "
never known till now how much he would
have liked to see his sister married to David,
He was shrewd enough to guess that, it was
not. mere curiosity that, had prevented David
from turning Mary Furnival out of the
house.
Miss Varney came into the room just then,
and put, a. stop to further conversation. Her
first, question was for Mary. /
She glanced at Fisher apologetically as she I
spoke. I
“It’s extraordinary how I miss the dear
child if she is out. of the room for long,” she
said. “It’s wonderful how she has grown
1 to be part of our lives, isn’t it. David?”
David did not answer, and Misa Varney
went, on: N
“But, of course, you know her well, Mr,
Fisher. You saw a great, deal of poor Nigel,
didn’t, you?”
’ "Not a great deal. And—l think I only
met. his wife once, or twice.”
“Well, you will see a great, deal of her /
now if you come to Red Grange,” the old *
lady went on innocently. “It is my sincere
wish that she makes a permanent, home with
us.”
Fisher did not answer. He was wonder
ing whet Mary would do now she knew her
self discovered. He had read aright the
pleading in her eyes. He almost wished
that, he had said nothing yet. to David; it
might, have been useful to have kept » ,
friendly side turned to hoth of them.
When Mary came in to tea he made him- L- W
self particularly pleasant, to her. He said g
that he hoped she would take advantage of M
his sister’s invitation, and come to stay with ’
them in town.
"Dora will be pleased to have you,” he
said; and wondered directly afterwards
what, made him say it,.
He knew perfectly well that, Dora never
cared at. all for her own sex; he remembered
distinctly what, she had said about, Mary.
Mary thanked him, but neitherlrefused
nor consented; she only spoke when she was t
pointedly addressed.
“You are very quiet, my dear; have you a
headache?" asked Miss Varney solicitously.
“No —1 don't know. Perhaps lam a little
tired.”
Involuntarily she raised her eyes to
David; he was looking at. her steadily.
The color rushed Into her face; she bit
her lip. ,
What, did he know? she wondered. What
had Fisher said to him, if he had said any
thing? She could not* believe that he knew W
the truth as yet.; she was sure that if he had w
done so he would have turned her out of the
house then and therez
And Dolly was not. dead, she had not. gone
down with the Multahe, as she had believed;
there was not even that excuse for her to
offer.
Well, it would soon he over and done
with! These weeks at. the Red Grange
would soon just, be a dream that, had been
dispersed by the searching light, of day; she
would go quietiy away that night without a
word of farewell. *
And perhaps then thej r would forget and "
forgive her, remembering that she had only
lived there, taking nothing but her food
and a bed to sleep in.
No doubt they would call her an adven
turess. The name brought, a quivering smile
to her lips, she felt so unlike an adventuress.
At heart she was just a lonely woman who
had dared to steal a breath of happiness
which was never rightly hers.
She roused herself, and tried tn talk to
Fisher. She. wanted to keep him at her side ,
when the others had gone; shZ wanted to 4|
find out what he knew, and what he had v
told David.
Fortune favored her. David was called to
see one of the gardeners, and Miss Varney
went, with him; she and Fisher were left
alone.
Saturday—" Why Did You Dn It?” Ren*<v
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