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THE TRI-WEEKLY JOURNAL
ATLANTA, GA., 5 NORTH FORSYTH ST.
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A BIBLE THOUGHT FOR TODAY
And many of them that sleep in the
dust of the earth ' shall awake, some to
everlasting life, and some to shame and
everlasting contempt. And they that be
wise shall shine as the brightness of the
firmament; and they that turn many to
righteousness, as the stars for ever and
ever.—From the Book' of Daniel, Second
Verse.
Sky-War on the Weevil Foe
WHEN Tennyson sang of "the nations’
airy navies" grappling “in the cen
tral blue,” he probably had no
vision of such a war as will be waged
above Georgia cotton fields on the twenty
sixth and twenty-eighth of this August; yet
the; outcome here may well be
tide- more to humankind than that romantic
conrbat which the bard foreglimpsed. The
boll- weevil is to be assailed from the skies.
Science, in its years of battle against
tha€ parasite, has been somewhat as would
David if, after finding the smooth pebbles
with which to meet the giant of Gath, he
had; been at a loss for a sling. Long sea
sons ago it was found that calcium arsenate,
properly applied, would do the boll weevil
to death. But how to distribute the poison
economically over large areas of growing
cotton remained a troublous problem.
Sundry devices, more or less adequate, were
fried; but all took a vast deal of time and
pains. Then to some delightfully adventur
ous mind occurred the idea of dusting the
fields from airplanes. No sooner thought
of than tried, the first experiments, though
made with old army flying machines ill
suited to the occasion, were successful
enough to warrant further efforts. Now,
with planes designed especially for the
purpose, • demonstration dustings are to be
given at Athens on the twenty-sixth instant,
and at Cordele on the twenty-eighth.
Distinguished officials and scientists of the
federal department will be In attendance,
including Dr. R. R. Coad, to whose patient
genius in seeking and finding an effective
poison for the boll weevil the cotton-grow
ing states are indebted beyond all measure.
In accommodation to the thousands who
will be eager to witness the anti-weevil
flights, the railroads will put on special
trains and one-fare rates. It Is said that
the aircraft can cover six hundred acres
with calcium arsenate in one hour. Think
of exterminating an acre of boll weevils in
ten minutes! It is a cheerful companion
picture of the doomsday angels raining
down their vials of wrath.
Though airplanes, as now constructed
and maneuvered, would be of doubtful
value in the hill country, on the coastal
plain and even in the more level regions
of the Piedmont, they should prove to be
of substantial service—especially where
large plantations are to be treated, or
where owners of adjoining farmlands co
operate. Teach orchards and pecan groves
also afford interesting fields for experi
ment.
So lies the field of battle. A billion
strong the weevil villain waits. -Up with
the arsenate! Forth with the plahes! For
ward the war!
Lay on Macduff,
!And damn’d be him that first cries,
;“Hold, enough.’’
Flore Clouds in the Balkans
THE Allies may discover that they have
■ settled the crucial matters of Germany
; and reparations just in time to turn a
stabilizing influence to the troubled Balkans.
Bulgaria and Jugoslavia give ominous sicns
of upheaval, and Rumania can but be af
fected. The source of the unrest, according
to some ■:hrespondents, is Soviet inn gue. 1‘
Till; A » LAMA i til J- .’l iKN A L
■ well may he that Moscow is taking a subtle
hand in the several imbroglios and doing
what she can to bellows the fires of revolu-
’ tion. It is the dream of Lenine’s successors,
i
as it was his own, to bring about, first, a
| Europe-wide and then a world-wide cata
i clystn of existing governments, with a view
I to planting Bolshevism’s red flag on the
j ruins. The Balkans are now the most invit
i ing quarter for such an adventure.
Soviet propaganda alone, however, will not
j account for the present turmoils and disinte
i grations; it is, doubtless, a contributing, but
I
e ! not a controlling factor. Writing from
e j Sofia to the New York Times, a first-hand
r | observer speaks of the "savage partisanship
k i that is chronic in Balkan history,” and goes
1 I on to describe five black-robed women who
t I
! followed the bier of a former Bulgarian min-
■ j ister of state, Beto Petkoff, assassinated last
I June. "They were the widows of five intfr
i dered Bulgarian statesmen —Stambuloff in
! 18 95, an earlier Petkoff seventeen years ago,
Genadieff, Stambuliski, and the latest victim.
That Bulgaria has no rtionopoy in ferocious
■ partisanship is attested by the royal assassi-
I nations in Serbia and the fiendish vindictive
i pess in recent Greek history.”
No wonder that unrest prevails where par-
I tisanship is so desperate; no wonder that
| Soviet agents find such a field ready for
their sowing. “There’ll be war in the Bal
kans,” was the saying of a Kipling hero,
which came grimly to pass before this cen
tury was well into its teens. The Allies will
• do well if they prevent a repetition.
Start Now
FRIENDS of the good highway movement
should not be discouraged over the
• failure of our departed legislature to go
into the bond issue feature. It was recog
nized early in the session that the time was
j not propitious for pressing the subject and
I that a state-wide discussion was advisable.
I Nevertheless, there has been great disap-
I polntment among the progressive, and far-
I
seeing element of our population that noth
ing, in a legislative way, was done. While
her neighbors march forward, Georgia marks
time.
But what is past is past and nothing is to
be gained by repining. TUe duty of the
hour for those who believe a great mistake
has been made, is to promptly reorganize
their forces and begin a campaign that will,
when opportunity offers, put a proper road
program into operation. To do this every
county should, through public agitation and
popular assembly, give definite expression of
its will and desires to its representative and
senator, and by united effort make the road
program the leading issue in the next legis
lative session. In such a movement The
Journal pledges its hearty support. The time
to begin is now, when their disappointment i
may be made a constructive force. Another
failure in 1925 will postpone action on the
roads until 1927, as the legislative sessions
will have become biennial. It should not be
forgotten that if road improvement calls for
a bond issue, the legislature can only sub
mit it to the people. The wider the discus
sion, the more complete will be the educa
tion of the public, and it is just as vital to
the highways to inform the voter as it is to
inform the legislator.
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. Where is Eleonora Duse buried? T. I. B.
A. The Italian tragedienne is buried In the
cemetery of Asolo, Italy. Her grave is beau
tifully marked.
Q. Does Uncle Sam credit to profit and ■
loss the paper money that is considered lost?
A. S. F.
A. The government charged off a certain
amount of paper K money as lost after the Chi
cago fire. This is the only time that this has !
been done. This count is not taken periodical
ly. The government does not actually realize
any profit from paper money which is lost, I
even though theoretically it does.. The money
is still held in the treasury vaults against '
outstanding paper currency and unless con- !
gress passed a bill that this money might be I
taken out of a reserve fund, no actual profit i
would be derived.
] Q. What was the height of the average
American soldier in the World War? F. M. G.
A. The average height of men who served
in the I’uited States army during the World
War was 67.49 inches.
Q. How do fireflies produce light? B. B.
A. The firefly produces light practically
without loss of heat or chemical rays, but
little is really known concerning the method :
of this production. The seat of the light is
the luminous area situated in the abdomen, j
It is a specialized portion of the fat body, j
being a plate consisting of polygonal cells,
located under the integument, and supplied i
with nerves and fine tracheal branches.
These cells secrete, under the control of the I
nervous system, a substance which is burned I
during the appearance of light: this combus- j
tion takes place by means of the oxygen
conveyed to the cells of the tracheae, which
branch profusely in it and break up into
capillaries.
Q. To settle an argument, please state
whether a star has ever appeared between
the horns of the new moon? A. F. S.
I he Naval Observatory says a star can
not possibly appear within the horns of the
crescent moon.
Q. M hat is the origin of the sentence, “We
who arc about to die. salute you?” J. E. L. i
A. The sentence, “We who are about to
die salute thee" was the salutation of the. i
Roman gladiators to the emperor, upon en- ■
(. tering the arena just before the fight.
Q. How much is the church property of
the United States worth, and is there a tax'
on it? C. H.
A. The entire church property of the
United States is valued at $ 1.67 1.000.00(1.
Such property is not taxed unless used for
a commercial purpose. 1 ’
HIS BROTHER’S WIFE 1
BY RUBY M. AYRES
CHAPTER NL!\
Mary Is Afraid
! ' 4 T never thought of such a thing,” said
I Mary. “1 told you before that. I can- !
not bear staying with strange people.”
“Did you feel like that when you came !
here?”
“No, of course not! At. least.—” She. '
tried to take back the eager, emphatic de- j
nial, but realized that it was too late. “You j
were different,” she added helplessly, “you [
and Miss Varney.”
“Thank you,” said-*David softly.
Mary bit her lip. She had tried so hard
I not to remember that this was the last time i
I she would ever drive like this with David; I
i she had tried to forget that, this was the j
| last chapter of her stolen happiness, but I
j something- in his voice, in his manner,
brought it home to her with suffocating |
force.
She loved him. She loved his voice, his
laugh, his gray eyes; she loved everything I
about him; and yet—yet she had willfully
deceived him, willfully lied to him.
If she only dared to tell him! In aching '
imagination she could see herself turning to !
him. hear herself speaking the sobbing con- j
session; but in reality she sat there, her!
hands clasped convulsively together beneath ;
the warm rug, grudging each flying moment,
each last word.
When they neared the Red Grange she
spoke:
“Need we go home just yet? It is such a [
lovely night, 1 don't want to go home just
yet.”
“It is quite early. We will go round the
other way.”
His voice was quite even; she did not see ■
the sharp look he cast at her as he bent
towards the wheel.
She leaned back beside him with a little
sigh of happiness.
David spoke suddenly.
“What are you thinking about?” She
started.
“Nothing. At least, I don’t know.”
He turned the car round into a narrow ,
side road.
“I will tell you my thoughts if you will I
tell me yours,” he said.
She tried to laugh.
“I don't know what they were; they wore
not worth hearing, anyway. ” y
“Tell me, and let me judge.”
But she would not.
“Then I will return good for evil, and
tell you mine,” he said humorously. “1
was thinking that I should like to go on
driving like this forever —with you.”
Silence! Mary wondered if he could hear ;
how her heart was beating; it seemed an |
eternity before she could find her voice.
“I am afraid the petrol would give out,” |
she said flippantly.
She hated herself for the tone to which 1
she had forced her voice, but she was afraid I
of the trend the conversation was taking.
She shivered a little. David looked down '
at her. .
' “You are cold. Shall we go home?”
She wanted to say “No,” but she said '
"Y es.”
Out here in the moonlight it was hard, ’
very hard to remember everything she had
got to remember, everything she had got to
force herself to do during the next little
while.
David turned the car about without an
other word.
When ’they reached the Rod Grange, he
held out hie hand to help her to alight.
He gave a concerned exclamation.
“Your fingers are like ice! Why didn’t |
you tell me?”
“I am not cold. I—oh!” David had I
lifted her hand to his lips.
There was something passionate In their
gentle touch, although he released her
instantly. She stood in the, darkness,
trembling and afraid.
David took a step towards .her.
“Are you afraid of me?” he asked.
“No, no! of course not! Why should
I be?” But her voice was shaking as
she spoke.
“You need not. be,” he said again; “you
need never be—whatever happens.”
He stood hack, and Mary went on into
the house.
“But he does not know-—he does not !
know!” was the bitter cry of her heart.
“Oh, David, David!”
CHAPTER XLV
The Telegram
WHEN Monty Fisher reached home j
that night, he found Dora waiting )
up for him.
What a perfect mistress she would make i
for the Red Grange! Jealousy for her
sake filled his heart as he recalled his |
conversation with David that evening, and
the dangerously quiet way in which he i
had championed Mary’s cause.
He had thought the whole matter care
fully over since coming up in the train,
and looked at from every point of view ;
he could only see one explanation of it ■
all.
David was in love with Mary.
Comparing the two women—his sister .
and that other—it seemed almost an ab
surdity that any man could prefer the
quiet, almost subdued charm of the one,
against the dazzling beauty of this woman
ying half asleep in the shaded light of the
room.
M e went across the room softly, and
bending, laid a hand on her shoulder.
“Dora! ”
She started up with a little stifled ex
clamation.
"Monty! At last! I though vou were
never coming. I've been waiting up for ;
'you. Well"—she looked up at him with '
a sort of querulous suspicion in her pretty
eyes—"well, did you see David and the
wonderful sister-in-law?”
“Yes.”
Site seemed not to notice the curtness
of his reply; she rose to her feet, pushing
back the ruffled waves of her golden '
uatr. •
, ,“ A ?' Pr T extraordinary thing happened
his afternoon,” she said.
The.e a suppressed excitement in
sp e o r ke° ,Ce: She did nOt 100 k at him as . she
She walked to the mantelshelf and
took a folded paper that looked like a
telegram from behind a photograph frame
she unfolded it and handed vit to
brother.
Ihis came this' afternoon: it is for vou
hut I opened it. as I thoush it mi-ht
important. What does it mean’””
Ficher took the paper: it was ’ the copv
o. a cablegram from a town in the Arsren
tme: " .
“Please ask David Bretherton cab’
two hundred pounds. Letter exnL’n’A
follows.—Dollv Durham ”
He read it rb-ouL,"
face. - *■ l “ L * u
"Who in the world is Dollv Durham j ”
he asked blankly. A
Dora shook her head; her evps were verv
bright an^ ; excited.
“I don’t know at all: vour new Ue>-t- Mr <
Evans, brought it <lown from the office as
you were not there. He thought i: mi”hi
be important, he said." She paused then- ‘
"Monty, are you sure that vou don't know
who she is?” ' ” x ,
"My dear child, what a question! I’v«
never heard of anyon° nf that name in all
my life. There is some mistake, of course.” '
on mean that you think it is some on - ’
OLD-TIME RELIGION
UY BISHOP IV. A. CANDLER
DETHRONEMENT OF REASON, ,
IN 111 RON EM EN T OF SEN TIM ENTA MTY
REASON is the royal faculty of the hu
man mind. Its function is to ascer
tain truth, to move the emotions in j
I accordance with truth, and to direct the will
I in obedience to truth.
Emotions which are unrelated to truth
1 are a species of psychological self-abuse and
, debauchery. Sensibilities which are iudif
i ferent, or hostile, to truth are incitements I
■ to evil deeds. Choices of the will which
disregard truth are iniquitous and volitions
: which disobey truth are wickedness iu pur
pose.
That,which is truth to the reason becomes
purity to the emotions and righteoivsness
| to the. will.
To reason, thus enthroned over heart and
; life, God Himself appeals. “Come now, let
! us reason together, saith the Lord” (Isaiah
|i:18). In the Holy Scriptures the faithful
| are exhorted to be “ready always to give i
i an answer to every man that asketh you a ■
reason of the hope that is in you.” (I Peter
I iii: 15.)
When reason affects the sensibilities by |
the truth the process results in noble and i
' ennabling sentiment. But when the process I
' is reversed, and unthinking emotion domi- ■
' nates reason, the outcome is mere senti- i
I mentality, from which reason is excluded by :
!an excess of degenerate feeling. This state I
'of mind is not far removed from hysteria '
| and insanity; for the insane are persons in j
whom'there is a derangement of the normal
■ adjustment of the intellect.
Sentimentality, therefore, is to be avoid
ed as a sort of preliminary hysteria, or
qualified insanity. One who is subject to
it is like a man in a rudderless boat, driven
by everj r gust or gale that may arise on the
sea over which he sails. His dangers are
manifold, and his destiny uncertain, with
every chance for a safe landing against him.
Against such a perilous situation St. Paul
warns us, “that we be no more children,
tossed to and fro, and carried about with
every wind of doctrine, by the sleight of
men, and cunning craftiness, whereby they
lie in wait to deceive; but speaking the
truth in love, may grow up into him in all
things, which is the head, even Christ.”
(Ephesians iv:l4.)
Human nature is easily and constantly
beset by this ever-present peril, and our
generation is thus beset most of all. We
boast that ours is “the age of reason,” but
it is entitled to no such characterization.
It is described with far more accuracy it
called “the age of emotionalism.” By it I
reason is often dethroned and sentimentality ;
enthroned. Itz g<ses by its feelings much I
more than by its judgment.
Men enjoy the excitation of their emo- I
tions a great deal more than they find j
plea-sure in the enlightenment of their in- j
tellects. “Thrills” outrank thoughts with '
them.
Young people especially desire exciting j
spectacles and moving scenes, as they do !
not wish study and education.
Humorous periodicals are sought and seri-;
ous publications are neglected. “Short I
stories,” with exciting situations and emo-;
tional endings, displace instructive history i
and elevating literature.
And this dethronement of reason and en- !
thronement of sentimentality is working in
our day deterioration in every realm of life
and region of human endeavor.
It manifests itself in the sphere of re- j
ligion by the senseless slogan of debasing
creedlessness, “I believe in religion but I I
have no use for creeds.”
This is a demand for an unthinking and j
impotent sentimentality which would leave !
the human mind destitute of religious truth !
and the human will undirected and uncon- i
trolled by divine law.
It is passing strange that men should ab- ’
hor a religious creed when they hold polit-1
ical creeds, economic creeds, and medical ;
creeds. A creed is simply what one be- •
lieves; for that is what the word means. '
Why should it be considered so virtuous to j
reject all belief concerning matters reli- j
gious? Does it make no difference what one !
believes about Christ? If Hexis a mere j
man, and nothing more, the worship of Him
is idolatry. If Tie is the God-man, the re->
fusal to worship Him is impiety. He de- !
manded of the Pharisees, who derided and :
rejected Him, “What think ye of Christ? I
Whose son is He?” (Matthew xxii:42.) j
And that question confronts the present gen
eration no less than it did the Jewish rulers
in the days of Jesus on earth. I
MY FAVORITE STORIES ]
By Irving S. Cobb
Two women with the decorations of' an i
apartment as a commission, were passing
on wall-paper but had not finished their
selections when luncheon time arrived, j ■
The salesman had been particularly oblig- ; (
ing and instructive and on the way out !
they asked the manager for his name.
“His jiame is Sheridan,,” said the man- ‘
ager.
Byway of clinching recollection of the ;
name they thought of “Sheridan’s Ride,” J
went out to luncheon and return. On en- 1
tering the main door one of them said to 1
an employe:
"We would like to see-Mr. Paul Revere.” j’
(Copyright, 192 4.)
- , j
This is the time Wilcox county farmers i
should have planted tobacco. The same thing ! j
is true with any crop or business —the man (
who jumps in and jumps out always hits it t
wrong. It pays to keep eternally at it, no ,t
matter what it is.—Rochelle New Era. s
David knows—some one he perhaps met s
when he was abroad?” • i
There was a sharp note of inquiry in
her voice. Monty laughed.
“My dear child, David is the last man in A
the world to give any woman the right, to
demand money from him like this. Why
are you looking at me like that?”
“Because.” said Dora deliberately, “Mr. r ,
E.yans knows who she is if you don't.”
Fisher stared at her blankly. I
"Evans! What on earth are vou driving
of'”’ : '
She shrugged her shoulders. I
"He knows! I could see by his face that 1
he knew. I asked him, but he would tell
me nothing—he will tell you.”
“I am sure you are mistaken. How could
he know? He has only been in th° office
a few weeks, and if© knows nothing of !
David's affairs.”
But Dora was obstinate. a
“He knows about this. I saw it in his
face: it was impossible not to have seen.” 8
“You are imagining it.” r
“I believe you know more about it than '
you will tell me. I hate being treated like c
a child. If this woman is anything to ’
Dtvi d * *
There was a suggestion of angry tears in a
"Dora. I give you my word of honor that
I have never heard of the woman, and I r
don't believe that David has. either.” r
She laughed scornfully. d
"Your v.oid of honor! 1 wouldn't give a
I’:for any man's word of honor.” h
She walked out of the room, slamming r
tli6 door behind f
Saturdav—-‘Gone!" Renew your suhscrip- *
f’on now tn avoid missing a chapter of this
thrilling story.
I
, It will continue to confront and test all
the generations of the future; for He is the
■ unavoidable Redeemer and Lord of all men
I in all ages.
j Pulpit demagogues, proclaiming pseudo
gospels of sentimentality, can not set aside
I His claims upon the minds of men by
preachments of creedlessness.
The reign of sentimentality will spread
from the realm of theology to other fields,
■ if its folly is not exposed speedily and its
influence arrested. Indeed, it has already
penetrated the regions of legislation. In
both church and state there Is a marked
tendency to legislate by sentimentality
rather than by clear reason and sound judg
ment. The consequences of proposed enact
ments are ignored while legislators yield to
the emotional appeals of the perfervid ad
vocates of dangerous devices of ruinous pro
grams and pernicious plans. All sorts of
good objects are employed to disguise the
most unwise measures which are proposed
for their accomplishment. The fundamen
tal principles of good government and the
indispensable provisions of established con-
! stitutions are denounced as antiquated and
: rejected as obsolete, if they stand in the
way of the ends which enthrall the senti
i mentalists.
When sentimentality thus displaces reason,
i the reign of the demagogue and the rule of
! the man of mediocrity prevails; for it is far
| more easy to exploit thoughtless feeling than
| to think through a perplexing problem.
I Thus weak men win transient influence and
acquire fleeting fame from using, and being
used, by hysterical reformers and excited
radicals.
At the national capital this sort of thing
abounds. In a currerit magazine it is set
forth justly and vividly as follows:
“This doubtful or spurious sort of fame
fascinates the mediocre type of legislator.
With some of them, to have one's name at
tached even to a bill that doesn't become a
law, but attains notoriety, is a glorious
end in itself, -worth seeking regardless of
the character of the law or the bill.
Aside from some measures which have
to be passed, such as the recurring tariff
acts, the proposals whiclf endow their spon
sors with this sort of fame fall into two
classes: One class of bills would open wide
the doors of the public exchequer for a
wholesale distribution of funds in some new
direction. The other would provide for an
extension of governmental activity (which
usually means government interference) in
some new quarter. Frequently both are
proposed by the same measure, for nearly
all authorizations of new expenditures carry
with them extensions or expansions of gov
ernment.
“Sometimes the second class involves a
proposed amendment to the constitution.
Nearly always the proposal contains the
emotional appeal, the sentimental equation.
Frequently there is much elemental merit
in claims made for the proposal. For all
kinds of things are wrong with the world,
and it is not easy to demonstrate the cold
fact that these things can not always be
corrected by constitutional amendments, by
increasing the already vast numbers of in
spectors and investigators and regulators
directed from bureaus in Washington, or by
adding to the tax burden on the people
who must meet the cost of all such things.
Argument for these proposals usually can
be put forth in emotional or sentimental
way, which, of course, is the easy way. Ar
gument against them must rest on cold
logic, and therefore usually requires sound
ability, cold intellectual honesty, and often
superlative courage.
Legislative bills,that propose to do some
thing for mothers or children or war vet
erans, or to correct this or that moral
wrong, or undo some glaring social injustice,
or provide easy money out of public treas
uries for large numbers of people, are easy
to advocate; it doesn’t require cold logic.
“Hence the mediocre legislator! - who is
energetic and wants to make his mark re
quires little inducement to sponsor such
things for the prominence they will give
him in return.”
Have we not had enough of this dethrone
ment. of reason and enthronement of senti
mentality? Or, shall we go on with it until
we awake too late to the peril it, brings to
all good things; and then in despair cry
out with the great dramatist—
‘«O judgment, thou art fled to brutish
beasts!
And men have lost their reason.”
THE ACCIDENTALLY HURT
By H. Addington Bruce
I 'J' is important always to keep in mind that
when anybody is injui d in an accident
the extent of the hurt done may depend,
not alone on the severity of the accident
itself, but also on circumstances attending or
following it.
Especially influential for good or ill is the
attitude of those called upon to care for vic
tims of accidents.
Without appreciating it, they may and fre
quently do, convey suggestions which act as
starting points for .ideas transforming what
is really a slight ... .. ir.'o a serious injury.
It is no exaggeration to say that words |
spoken thoughtlessly at a bedside may mean !
needlessly prolonged invalidism.
Nor do physicians themselves invariably !
reckon with this possibility as they should.
Take, as a typical occurrence, the, case of a !
man who has a fall on a sidewalk because ■
of a loose plank. He falls in such away '
to twist his arm under him, whereupon, I
through the combined force of pain and }
shock, he loses consciousness.
When he comes to, he finds himself amid
strange surroundings, with a physician exam- I
ining him. His arm still pains him severely. 1
“It is not actually broken,” the physician i
tells him, “but it is badly wrenched. You
will have to give it a good rest. Too bad I
that plank was left loose to tri. you.”
Perhaps hecaus of the injured man’s tem- ;
perament, this reference to the cause of the •
accident, coupled with failure to minimize'in I
his mind its possible effects, creates in him ;
lively sentiments of resentment and of fear. ;
Taken home, these are accentuated by his i
wife's anxious sympathy and her outspoken |
indignation against u.ie c ‘upanUof the house '
in front of which‘her husband fell.
Ordinarily, rest, liniment, and massage
would ere long have restored the injured j
arm to complete usefulness. Because there
has been created in its possessor a lively fear j
that he really has been badly hurt, he keeps!
his attention so fixed on his wrenched muscles j
as to intensify and prolong the pain in them. |
His anger against the offending householder j
also enters 'to play part in retarding}
Until that anger is assuaged by a monetary I
compensation, or until the fear-ridden suf-1
serer is by some means persuaded that there I
no longer is anything the matter with his
arm, he will remain incapacitated.
Yet for this he can not in fairness be !
tleemed personally responsible. The blame I
rests rather with those who lodged in his|
mind ideas contributory to the forming of a I
disease-perpetuating attitude.
And if only because one never can know;
hßw an injured person will '-eaet to unfortu- !
nate suggestions, it is imperatively necessary
for physicians, uurses, and relatives to be on
guard against making such suggestions to
the accidentally hurt.
Which done not mean, any d r '-
liberate falsifying in the interest of reassur-
1
MOVIE MAD
BY HAZEL DEYO BACHELOR
W hat has gone before—Gloria King
comes to Hollywood with the idpa that
she can make good in the movies. She
becomes hardened by the life, and is
foolish enough to marry Rolf Temple
ton, the great screen star, a man she
despises but who can further her ca
reer. Later she dicovers that her ideas
are wrong, for she makes good through
talent alone. She becomes spoiled,
however, and forgets her ideals in an
effort to have a good time and avoid
boredom. One afternoon she is out
driving with a gay crowd find they run
over a child. —Now go on with the
story.
( RAFTER N.N.NIY;
The Verdict
IT SEEMED to Gloria afterward ns
though each happening of that, after
noon was engraved indelibly on hqf
mind. The atmosphere of quiet in the
great high-ceilinged hospital, the smell of
antiseptic, vaguely terrifying, the censoring
looks on the faces of the doctors and nurses
who failed to be impressed by the fact that
she ordered the child placed in a private
room with a night and day nurse in at
tendance.
He was alive, that was all they could tell
her. And tljen there came long momenta
of suspense in the dreary reception room,
while Vivian wept and Gloria paced the
room, white to the lips and very quiet.
Dimly she was aware of the fact that the
others had remained with her, and she felt
this strange. She lemembered with fierce
revulsion Bobby Clyde’s hurried warning,
his callous, almost orutal words. It an
noyed her to feel that he was here; she
j wanted to tell him so, and yet, when she
saw his face, she somehow found it impos
sible to tell him to go. There was a shamed
look about it, as though he had come to
his senses and regretted the impulse that
had prompted those words.
Vivian, too, was showing a different side
of her nature. Her weeping had washed
away the grotesque black make-up she used
around her eyes, and strangely enough she
made no attempt to replace it. Once she
crept up to Gloria and touched her almost
timidly on the arm. Gloria, looking at her
suddenly, sensed a warm friendliness in
Vivian’s manner, and for a moment the
two girls clung together, just like any two
young things sharing for the first time a
common tragedy.
“Gloria, you mustn’t blame yourself too
much,” Vivian whispered through her tears.
“We were all to blame. Oh, Gloria!” and
she clung close weeping bitterly, while Gloria,
longed for the relief of tears, and looked
with stony eyes that saw nothing, over
Vivian’s, shoulder.
After what seemed centuries, the doc
tor came into the room. His face was
stern with prejudice, hut when he saw
Gloria's eyes, his features softened some
what.
“He’ll live,” he said brusquely, “just
this once, you won’t have a death on your
conscience.”
Gloria, who had rushed up to him im
petuously, drew back as if she had been
struck. Her greenish-brown eyes wera.
wide and stricken. She tried to speak,
but at the first no words would come.
Then she said verly slowly:
“I supposed I deserved that. And T
suppose, too. you wouldn’t belive me if
I told you I would never drive a car
again.” 1
She was suddenly shaking all over as
if from cold, and a moment later she
ayed and would have pitched forward
to the floor if the doctor had not caught
her in his arms.
For a while everything was blurred,
and then out of a void of blackness,
Gloria struggled hack to consciousness.
Some one had carried her over to the
couch, and somewhere in the room a
man’s voice was speaking.
“I was driving the car. Dr.’ Holt. I
am responsible for everything. You musn't.
blame .Miss King, she had nothing at
all to do- with it.”
“Garry Carr, that, isn’t, true and yoiD
know. it.” Gloria- was struggling .to a
sitting posture, and as she did so fight
ing the physical nausea that swept over
her wave on wave.
"I was driving the car, doctor. It
was my fault.” And a« she gasped the
words, the tears came with a. rush There
was something about Barry’s unexpected
defense that overwhelmed her. She hadn’t
thought him capable of taking the blame
on himself. His loyalty broke the ice
around her heart, made her feel not «=o
much alone, and she sobbed and sobhed
great tearing sobs that left her weak and
; exhausted.
Saturday—“ Aftermath,” and "A Talk
Witli Manning.” Renew your subscription
now to avoid missing a chapter of this
absorbing story.
Id Impossible
By Dr. Frank Crane
( ( A L’LMPOSSIBLE nul n’est tenu”—no
y-y one is bound to do the impossible
runs a French proverb.
Which is comfortable but wholly un
true.
Ihe very opposite is true. Nine times out
of ten it is the impossible to which our com
manding conscience points.
You feel you may do, can do, would like
or hate to do what you can do; but it is
usually what you think you can not do that
you feel you ought to do.
Now, the most of this matter, the solution
of the puzzle, is this: that conscience is not
so much a law of action as it is a principle
of the development.
Nature is not so much concerned about
your doing just so, as she is about your
growing constantly. God's purpose, if I may
so speak, is not so much flawless conduct
as the continuous development of our moral
stature.
It is only by trying to reach the unat
tainable that our reach becomes ever higher.
Our powers rise toward our ideas of perfec
tion, as flowers grow toward the sun. It
was not intended that any flower should at
tain to the sun.
“Responsibility,” says Bushnell, “is not
measured by ability.”
Mistaken people are discouraged when
they see how far thuy fall short of their
ideals. They never do quite what they ought
to do; hence, despair. What’s the use? says
one; I can’t be good; so, to the bottle and
the wallow of the senses.
Others, who will not sink so low, keep
trying, yet are incessantly ; rritated, pessimis
tic, in the dumps.
It seems to me all such might he com
forted not a little, and their lives mane mucn
more even and poiseful, if they would realize
the fact that our sense of thought always
points to something out of our reach, and
that nature's design is that we keep reach
ing, and so develop. And even if some rare
soul did reach the highest mark set by his
conscience, straightway another and a higher
mark would appear.
Growth is a deeper word even than right
eousness.
ance. It simply means tactful avoidance of
remarks and of behavior calculated to im
plant or to exaggerate a harmful emotional
stress.
(Copyright, 19 2 4.2
/