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THE TRI-WEEKLY JOURNAL
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A BIBLE THOUGHT FOR TODAY
Seek the Lord, and ye shall live. . . ■
Seek Him that maketh the seven stars and
Orion, and turneth the shadow of death
into morning, and maketh the day dark
with night; that calleth for the waters of
‘.he sea, and poureth them out upon the
face of the earth—the Lord is His name,
.hat strengtheneth the spoiled against the
strong. . ... . Seek good and not evil,
that ye may live; and so the Lord, the
God of hosts shall be with you.—Selected
from the Fifth Chapter of Amos.
A from Labor On
The Presidential Campaign
PRACTICAL observers of politics will not
miss the significance of the recent ac
tion of the International Printing
Pressmen and Assistants’ Union of North
America in rejecting by the virtually unani
mous vote of their biennial convention a res
olution indorsing the candidacies of I.a Fol
lette and Wheeler. Representing the liberal
and constructive thought of organized labor
in all parts of the country, the attitude of
the pressmen is indeed meaningful. They
were not unaware that La Follette professed
to stand in an especial and exclusive sense
for the interests, of the workingman,
but they were minded also to look and think
for themselves. What could the Wisconsin
senator, without a party, without a matured
program and without that spirit of loyal
co-operation which is in truth the heart of
unionism, do toward fulfilling promises, even
if he stood the remotest chance of being
elected? What would it profit Labor to fan
the ambition of such a candidate? Wherein
would it help the country to divert votes
from the real and momentous issues on
which the Democratic and the Republican
party have joined battle, merely to add to
the dust of a personal political adventure
that will pass like the wind and be for
gotten? Questions like those must have oc
curred to the pressmen, as they have to mil
lions of other citizens. Anyway, the answer
of the great convention was decisive.
Particularly notable for the light it sheds
upon the discussion is the statement of the
president of the international pressmen.
Major George L. Berry, concerning the polit
ical interests of Labor. Declaring at the
outset that he believed in party responsibil
ity, which La Follette and Wheeler can not
represent because they have no party in
dorsement, Major Berry said, “The American
Federation of Labor has not committed itself
to any party- or to the candidacies of Sena
tors La Follette and Wheeler, nor has the
Federation established a Labor party. It
must be obvious, then, that there is no au
thority, either by executive action or con
vention action, which could commit the
American labor movement to political parties
or independent candidacies except by and
through the vote of the members of organ
ized labor, who are themselves voters and
must of necessity be consulted and consent
by them given. No action that the American
Federation of Labor can take, no action this
convention can take could pledge the vote of
organized labor to candidates of any party
except by and through the process stated.”
Having thus disposed of the parliamentary
question, he went on to give his own views
as to the merits of the Presidential contest
on which the country is to pass in Novem
ber; and therein lies the most arresting part
of his utterance.
Major Berry, it will be recalled, was a
candidate for the Democratic vice presiden
tial nomination at New York, receiving the
highest vote on the first ballot. Though he
was not chosen, he stands cheerfully com
mitted to the support of the Democratic
THE ATLANTA TRIWEEKLY JOURNAL
j ticket “without reservation,” and for the fol
lowing reasons, as he iold his fellow mem
bers of the pressmen's union at their bien
nial convention:
“The National Democratic party is the
party of Woodrow Wilson, and I can not,
nor do I desire to forget, the record of the
Democratic party under the leadership of
Woodrow Wilson. I can not forget, nor do
I desire to forget, the records of the Demo
cratic United States senators and congress
men who have, in the main, throughout the
life of the party supported those measures
advocated by the American Federation of
Labor and the forward-looking citizenry of
our country.” This assuredly is approved
since it judges the political tree by its fruit.
That some members of the party of Jefferson
and Wilson “fail to see or do not wish to
see those things that make for democracy,”
Major Berry concedes; but, he adds, “their
political life is of but short duration.”
Equallj r cogent is his statement regarding
the Democratic leader of the day: “In the
Congressional record of John W. Davis, as a
Representative in the lower house of Con
gress, there is nothing that can be construed
as reactionary or detrimental to the interest
of the workingmen and women of America
or of the citizenship of our nation as a
whole; but quite to the contrary the record
is one of sympathetic and energetic support
of those things that were forward-looking
and conceived by men with such thought to
be the best for the nation. The clientele of
John W. Davis as a lawyer, and for which
much criticism has been offered, appears to
me to be an asset rather than a liability,
since it is obviously the desire of the voters
of the nation to select the most capable man
to fill the position of Chief Executive of our
country. I shall support John Davis not
only because of his ability and his
integrity, but because of his keen sense of
the decent requirement of both nationalism
and internationalism; and my judgment is
that his, stand upon our national require
ments and international obligations is the
only solution to our present disjointed and
totally irresponsive economic condition. It
is my intention to support John W. Davis,
because I believe that he approaches as near
as any living man the high dieals of pur
pose, courage, ability and vision so ably and
effectively manifested by that imperishable
leader of democracy, Woodrow Wilson.”
These are the words of a staunch Ameri
can and of a tested leader and friend of
American Labor. More than that, they are
evidently the heart-deep sentiment” of mil
lions of his countrymen and of multitudes
of his comrades in the ranks of those on
whose broad shoulders the work of the na
tion rests.
QUIZ
Any Tri-Weekly Journal reader can
get Hie answer Io any question puzzling
him by writing to The Atlanta Journal
Information Bureau, Frederic J. Has
kin, director, Washington, D. and
inclosing a two-cent stamp for ret in n
postage. DO NOT SEND IT TO OUR
ATLANTA OFFICE.
Q. How many buffalo are there in this
country? C. 1. R.
A. The last report of the American Bison
society contains a census taken January 1,
1922, which shows that there are 147 herds
of buffalo in the country with a total of 3,-
753 head.
Q. What is the altitude record for an air
plane? K. H. 1).
A. The altitude record was made on Octo
ber 30, 1923, in France by a Frenchman
named Sabi Lacointe, when he attained a
height of 36,550 feet.
Q. What was the enrollment in 1 923 of
the universities in this country? Which had
the largest attendance? E. G.
A. The University of Pennsylvania led
with an enrollment of 13,716; the University
of California was a close second with 1 3,276;
then came the University of Chicago with
12,748; Columbia University, 11,520; Uni
versity of Illinois, 9,363; University of Min
nesota, 9.079; University of Michigan, 8,-
882; University of Wisconsin, 7,632; Har
vard, 6,357; Yale, 4,131; Princeton, 2,418.
Q. Where are diamonds found? J. Y.
A. Diamonds occur in Brazil, India, Bor
neo, South Africa, and also in small quanti
ties in the United States, 'British Guiana,
Russia, China and Australia. The deposits
occupy the vents or spikes of ancient vol
canoes, and it is therefore possible that the
presence of the diamond is connected with
volcanic activity, the stones either having
been brought up from the interior of the
earth, or having been formed in place under
the influence of the molten rock in contact
with the carbonaceous shale. The conditions
necessary for .the crystallization of carbon in
the form of diamond would seem to be in
tense heat and great pressure, such as exist
during the formation of igneous rocks.
Q. Which is worth the most to the chicken
raiser, the eggs or the chickens? K. F. G.
A. Chicken eggs have a higher value in
the aggregate than the chickens produced or
raised. In 1923 the value of the eggs was
$599,000,000 for the farms of the United
States and the value of the chickens pro
duced was $420,000,000.
Q. Are there any Communists in the Brit
ish parliament? D. A.
A. There is at least one Communfst in
the English parliament, J. T, Walton, New
hold.
Q. How is the value of a trade-mark fig
ured? F. T. V.
A. The value of a trade-mark depends
upon the advertising back of it that has im
pressed it upon the public mind. It is re
ported that the owners of one well-known
trade-mark refused an offer of $3,000,000
for it. although they only paid $5,000 for it
originally.
Q. How many people witness professional
baseball games on days when all the teams
are playing? P. T. B.
A. Figures are not available for the aver
age daily atteridance at professional baseball
games. It is estimated, however, that on
Memorial day and on the Fourth of July,
this year, the sixteen major league teams
played to a total attendance of 260.000 each
day, while the twenty-six minor leagues had
an aggregate of 350.000 spectators. Th ; s
would make a maximum attendance of .
proxlm ate 1 y 6 0 0.0 00.
I HIS BROTHER’S WIFE
BY RUBY M. AYRES
CH VITER L\ I
. . . The Wheel of Fate
I ryv H E streets were dark and uninteresting,
I but there, nt. least, she could breathe
and move. No four walls hemmed her
in. The horrible feeling of being in prison
vanished.
A batch of soldiers swung past her in the
road singing cheerily! Their boots were
thick with dust. They looked tired, but
their spirits were high. .She thought of
Nigel. Once he had been one of them—he
who was now sleeping almost forgotten
somewhere in France.
Surely she must have loved him in anoth
er lifetime. Surely with his death she had
closed one book of her life and begun an
other.
As she turned a corner a young man com
ing quickly in the opposite direction ran
against her. He apologized, raising his hat.
They were close to a street lamp, and by its
subdued light each saw the other's face.
Mary caught her breath.
“You?” she said.
Young Evans colored, to the roots of his
hair. For a moment he could only stare at
her. Then he put out his hand.
“I was beginning to think we should nev
er meet again.”
He had been thinking of Mary a moment
since; he had been thinking of her ever
since the worning when he had been called
into Monty Fisher’s, office and been ques
tioned about her. And now here she was;
now' they were face to face again. He held
her hand in a glad clasp. His heart was
thumping wildly. He broke out again,
stammering a little.
“I never thought we should meet any
more. I am so glad to see you.”
Diary did not know what to say. She had
liked him during their brief acquaintance;
he had been kind to her. But there was
something now in the expression of his eyes,
the tone of his voice, that bewildered her.
She drew her hand away nervously.
“The world is such a small place, isn’t
it? It’s wonderful how people do knock up
against each other.”
She would have turned and left him had
it been possible, but she knew it would be
unkind aud discourteous. Evans rose to the
occasion.
“Will you come somewhere and have a cup
of coffee with me? I’ve been working late
at the office —
He broke off, remembering that Fisher’s
last words to him had been about this girl.
He shook the memory aside; he did not want
to remember it now.
Mary assented; she was really glad to
have met a friend. She followed him into
a restaurant close by.
Evans ordered coffee and some cakes.
“I haven’t had my tea yet,” he said, meet
ing her eyes. “I am hungry, if you are not.
He leaned a little closer to her.
“And how are you after all the long
time?” he asked.
It really did seem a long time since they
had met, though in reality it was but two
or three weeks. His interested ' eyes real
ized that she looked pale and unhappy.
He longed to ask her what was the. truth
of all this mystery; why David Bretherton
was searching for her so eagerly; what she
was to him. But a feeling of jealousy kept
him back.
Betherton was rich —whilst he—of
course she would never look at him! He
was only a poor clerk.
Mary answered, smiling faintly, that she
was quite well. She did not want to talk
about herself. She tried to turn the con
versation into other channels. She ques
tioned him about his work; she talked about
the war. She talked feverishly about every
other subject under the sun, and yet—
after all, Evans’ conversation came back to
herself. . , .
“And where are you living now. Not in
the same flat?” o
“Oh, no: I left it a long while ago.
It seemed a long while— though she o.w
it was but a few weeks.
“But you are still living in London.
“Oh, yes.”
He colored a little at her evasive reply.
“You don’t want me to know where.”
She looked distressed.
“Oh, please don’t think me unkii.d! It
isn’t that; but—but 1 haven’t time for
friends. 1 know you think it horrid of me —
especially when you were so good to me.”
“I only think what is nice about you.”
He spoke the words with clumsy sincerity.
He kept his eyes on his plate. His heart
was pounding under his office coat. He
would have given anything had he dared
put out his hand and lay it over her own;
but something restrained him.
She was not for him —this girl with the
sad face and sweet eyes; he knew that, even
while he knew, too, that he loved her.
There was a little silence. Suddenly he
looked up.
“If you spoke quite honestly, you would
say that you do not wish to see me again,”
he said.
Mary colored.
“1 should not! I have so few friends; but
you don’t understand.”
He stirred his coffee vigorously.
“Perhaps I understand better than you
think,” he said at last slowly. “Perhaps—”
He broke off. “Someone was asking me
about you today,” he added after a moment.
“About me?”
“Yes. Mr. David Bretherton,”
He heard the. little catch in her breath;
saw the way her hands clasped each other
convulsively.
“David Bretherton? How —how do you
know him?”
“He is a great friend of Mr. Fisher’s. I
am in Mr. Fisher’s office.”
“Oh!” There was something afraid in the
little ejaculation. “How did he know you
knew me? What did he ask you?”
“He is looking for you everywhere; he
hoped I could help him find you.”
Mary did not answer. She was remem
bering what Dora Fisher had said —that
David was furious—that he would never
forgive her—that he meant to see that she
was punished for her deception. She re
membered, too. the story Miss Yarney had
told her of the Gray Lady at the Red
Grange. David was a Bretherton.
No doubt he could be just as harsh and
severe as that ancestor of his who had
turned a woman and child into the snow to
die.
She shivered a little.
Evans looked up. The drawn, strained
look on her face went to his heart.
“What—what did you tell him?” she
asked.
He half shrugged his shoulders.
“I knew nothing. How did I know where
you were?”
“No—no, of course not.” She spoke half
to herself. For the moment she had forgot
ten his presence: she was back again in the
moonlight with David, listening to his voice:
“You need never be afraid of me—what
ever happens.”
Had he really meant that? and if so, why
had she not had the courage to take him
at his word, and make a clean breast of the
whole miserable deception?
He might have forgiven her then: he
migh- have found it in his heart to make
excuses for her.
But now—a little pang of fear convulsed
her. She looked ar Evans tremulously,
“You won’t tell him you saw me? Oh,
promise that you won’t tell him!”
“I will promise anything you wish—any-
HORSE RAGING
ON September 2, last Tuesday, there was
a. very noted horse race in New York
City. A French colt called Epinard
was expected to make the United States stand
up and take notice that France had produced
the finest race horse up to date in the twen
tieth century. Epinard’s picture is splendid.
Tin’s race came off as expected. But an
American colt was pronounced the winner.
Tiie Prince of Wales is pictured in the New
York papers leaning over in the judges’ stand
and watching- with great interest. This Prince
of Wales has evinced also great interest in
horse riding, in jumping hurdles ami ditches.
He is unfortunate, for some reason, because
he has been more than once pictured as fall
ing over his horse’s head, with some broken
bones, etc. The judges’ stand was also a
good place to exhibit himself, and there was
a big crowd to gaze rapturously on a French
colt and a royal Britisher.
It is probable that the enthusiasm for fine
horses will never abate; and I can understand
how one can admire a beautiful animal, per
fectly groomed and with sense “like folks.”
Os all the pets that I have had in my long
life, the saddle nag lias given me the most
genuine enjoyment. I always contrived to
have something to ride, from six years to
seventy. Sometimes it was a pony and oc
casionally a pacing mule, but I was so fond
of horseback exercise that if it wasn’t so
pretty, it was always good.
I have never seen one of the old-time rac
ing feats; that preceded my day and genera
tion. Dr. Felton, my husband, a great lover
of horse flesh, could tell of a big race that
came off in Lexington, Ga., when he was a
lad. He was born about eight miles from
that town, and it was his privilege to ride
his pony once a week to get the Augusta
newspaper, which told all the news of the
world, and scanty enough it was before there
were any telegraphs, and only sail vessels on
the ocean.
When that memorable race came off (and
he delighted to tell of it, even down to old
age), the race covered sixteen miles—four
heats —and it was won by a little gray mare
belonging to Wade Hampton, of South Caro
lina. The sporting men came from far and
near from other states beside Georgia. Horse
racing was vdry popular. The crowds were
great. Drinking was common. The refresh
ments were ginger cakes and cider. The
cakes and cider were vended from the rear
of small covered one-horse wagons.
I remember those cake and cider wagons
very well when I was a child under ten years.
We lived at a cross roads, and there was a
militia muster ground there, and I can re
call my rapturous delight when the drum and
fife began to perform. I always managed to
get some ginger cake. These cakes were
more than an inch and a half thick, about
3x5 inches in dimension, the big kind.
When the cakes were well cooked the
maker fashioned circles or the figure 8 on
the top side with the white of an egg. They
glistened, ana were good.
The trade was excellent, paid in “thrips”
and “sevenpences.”
There were no railroads until the middle
forties. People who traveled from Augusta
to Savannah, towards Nashville and beyond,
either rode on horseback or in gigs. The
upper-tendoni rode in carriages, with high-up
drivers’ seat, and a place for trunks in the
rear.
What I am now trying to picture are the
fine horses that pulled these carriages, and
the extra saddle horses, generally two in
number, that were brought along for young
sters, men and girls to ride occasionally.
Then there was a carryall for the housemaid
or various servants.
In my earliest recollection I was thrilled
with the sight of these lovely young women
in riding habit, with a peculiar button for
ornament that was called “frog.” Why frogs
I do not know, or maybe I have only for
gotten.
My early horseback efforts were made with
THE HIGHER PROBABILITIES
By Dr. Frank Crane
IT is not facts that save men; it is prob
abilities.
The greatest truths, in the realm of
human destiny, are not demonstrable. You
cannot prove them., you must believe them.
, The highest laws of life are inherently
dubitable.
You cannot be certain about whether your
beloved loves you in the same way you are
certain about a piece of cloth being a yard
wide.
You can never know that it pays to be
honest in the same way you know that water
is composed of oxygen and hydrogen.
You cannot know that virtue is best for
you, that purity of mind will bring you hap
piness and power, in any such fashion as you
know that there are a dozen apples in a box,
where you may count them and see them.
It is impossible to prove there is a God,
and that He is good, as you can prove that
the square of the long side of a right trian
gle is equal to the sum of the sqaures of the
other two sides.
The evidence that the soul lives on after
the death of the body is not'at all the kind
of evidence that there is such a city as Paris
and that it is situated on the Seine.
If you could prove these things of the
spirit mathematically they would be of no
use to you.
Nothing you know for an absolute cer
tainty has power to do you good, because
such things impose upon your mind like dead
matter. Only those truths which call forth
faith and will-to-believe are potent to help
your character.
Moral truth, redemptive, life-giving, does
not strike yon like a brick; it quickens you
like a medicine.
I'he most important things you have to
doal with are necessarily subject to doubt.
For it has more to do with your joy or sor
row, whether your beloved loves you than
whether boards are level or stones square;
it means more to you to believe in honesty,
virtue, purity, God and the life hereafter
than it does to know all the laws of steam
and steel.
It's the uncertainties of life that count.
To know how to weigh probabilities is
more vital than to know how to measure ac
curacies.
“Philosophical. truths,” says Bartholomy
Saint-Hilaire, “have value only as they are
disputable; they do not affect your reason
like the axioms of geometry; their -very
power to save or ruin a man lies in the
fact *that they may always be freely accept
ed or freely rejected.”
thing.”
She thanked him brokenly. There were
tears in her eyes, but she brushed them
determinedly away.
What a strange turn of the wheel of Fate
this was, that had brought them al’ t gether
again! Would she ever be really safe from
discovery?
She loved David, but she dreaded his
anger. Site would rather have died, sue
told herself, than face him now.
She had let her coffee get cold. Evans
gently drew her attention to. it.
She drank it off hurriedly. She was glad
when they were out in the night again. It
was past eight o’clock then; she stopped at
the end of the road.
Thui-><lax—"ln Hospital.’’ Renew aoii? ’
subscription now to avoid mi"ing a chap
ter. i
TUESDAY. SEPTEMBER U, 192 L
THE COUNTRY HOME
BY MRS. W. H. FELTON
my mother's side saddle, and without the
usual riding skirt. [ guess 1 somewhat re
sembled a “toad on a tussock” when my little
self was lifted up on saddle; .and 1 never
saw any womankind ride astraddle until 1
was much over fifty. I wonder now how
women ever did get at it, because modesty
for females was always at a premium in the
days of long ago.
GRAVING A KING
I'l’ was hardly possible to stifle my disgust
when I read the daily paper and heard
how’the populace became so rabid that
tiie gates of the White House grounds had
to be closed to hold back the rushing wave
of men and women clamorous to get a look
at the King of England's oldest son.
It speaks very poorly for a country calling
itself a Republic. It betokens a low order
of patriotic respect for their own country.
It is pitiful to, consider the numbers that
ran wild and stood like poor dumb-driven
cattle just to gape at a hoy that will some
day be King of England if he does not die
before his father.
What is this youth to us, that native-born
Americans should fall down and worship his
body and who only show him a big lot of
fools for him to look at?
In the Old Testament, when the populace
became tired of Samuel, the provisional gov
ernor of the Hebrew race, and demanded for
themselves a King, the old prophet told
them in plain words what a King would do
to them, time enough being given. Because
Saul was a likely young man. he attracted
attention and at first he was perhaps as
guileless as the Prince of Wales. But we
know Saul’s history. His position gave him
the bighead. He soon got too big for his
breeches. He evoluted into a tyrant. It
was natural evolution. It always happens
to shallow-pated politicians. We have had
i experience with some in America.
The King of England is likely saying io
! himself: “Ah! That sounds good. I would
like to annex these turbulent United States
to rny dominion in Canada.”
And those admirers of the Prince of 'Wales
will sink themselves into the rut that made
cruel monarchs over on the Eastern Conti
nent. What is there in any foreign King
for the free citizens of the United States,
should crave themselves? The King of
England does not lead armies into battle
lines. He drafts them and they can be de
stroyed without remedy and he then pro
ceeds to draft more soldiers and if they re
fuse to go, he can jail them. If they desert
he cau have the last deserter shot at sun
rise, backed up against a stone wall.
Haven’t we in the United States had a
sufficient taste of draft, when 70,000 Amer
ican boys were killed on the battlefields of
France? They were forced to meet German
troops, although German troops were like
! manikins—absolutely driven like cattle to
the battle front and sacrificed on the altar
| of a modern Molock!
What does England represent to the
American people anyhow?
Our forefathers fled those foreign shores
I to find a wilderness where they could serve
God as they pleased in peace and quiet, and
they risked warfare with red Indians and
were finally afflicted with rich Tories that
bent the knee to Kings and worshipped a
mere man on a throne, just as the Hebrews
besought Samuel for a King because they
I were plain fools for lack of sense, and pre
ferred the pomp and state of a palace gate.
What a story of hootlicks and poor craven
idiots has been carried back to Europe yes
terday! The freest government on our
' planet is honeycombed with ignorant human
■ beings who are too silly to love their native
land and who choose to be doormats for
kings to wipe their feet upon. I have not
been so disgusted in a long time. That hoy
is good enough in his place, and he can
travel here as well as in India—and much
safer—but I wish somebody had the power
to spank the poor fools that were like silly
[sheep at the White House.
DAMAGED HEARTS
By IL Addington Bruce
IT is a great mistake to underestimate the
seriousness of the situation when one is
afflicted with any form of orgaftic heart
disease. But it is equally a mistake,to fall
into a panic, and to assume that to have a
damaged heart neces.arily means an early
death.
For the fact is that, by taking precaution
ary measures, persons even with greatly
damaged hearts may, and not a few do, live
to a good old age.
When the heart damage is not extreme,
.proper care may mean complete recovery.
In other cases it insures a disease-arresting
that is tantamount to recovery. As recently
emphasized by Dr. Sti t Hart:
j “In the majority of instances heart disease
; under suitable management is not progress
! ive. Even if a valve has been injured be
yond the possibility of complete repair,
I care may prevent further mischief, and com-
I pensating factors may be developed which
I allow the heart to perform its work efficient
' ly in spite of its handicap.”
What constitutes “proper care” varies
somewhat, of course, with the individual
patient. For this reason detailed manage
ment of one’s case should be in the hands
of a competent physician. There are some
general principles, however, on which the
best authorities are agreed.
One of these Is the supreme importance of
rest to all heart patients, especially of rest
lying down.
There are cases in which rest alone may
work wonders, even after compensation has
failed. And while the need for rest depends
on the gravity of the heart condition, most
heart patients should reconcile themselves to
spending in bed at least ten hours out of
every twenty-four.
When not resting, moreover, all heart pa
tients must reconcile themselves to avoiding
extremes of physical activity, such as those
involved in prolonged exercise, running, lift
ing anything heavy, etc. “As a general rule,”
to quote Hart’s warning note, “any physical
effort which produces shortness of breath is
too much for any one with organic heart
disease.”
On the other hand, except when recovering
from a heart attack, some exercise should be
taken.
More and more nowadays the tendency
among heart specialists is in the direction of
prescribing graduated exercise as part of
their patient's treatment. This helps in more,
ways than one, having in particular a gool
psychic effect in giving the patients increased
confidence and peace of mind.
As an additional aid to morale—and the
maintaining of morale is always most impor
tant in heart cases—it is desirable for heart
patients to have some occupational activity,
suited of course to the degree of their
strength. Complete cessation from work,
except when absolutely necessary, almost
always makes for harm.
But the w’ork chosen should never be such
as to incite to over-exertion, or such as to
involve worry or emotional stress. So
far as the emotions are concc”ned, all suffer
ers from heart disease should endeavor to [
cultivate placidity, and to avoid situations .
likely to arouse in them sentiments of anger
or fear. In this endeavor, it ought to go ■
without saying, they should have the hearty
co-operation of relatives and friends.
Lastly, yet also of real Importance, any 1
MOVIE MAD
BY HAZEL DEYO BACHELOR
What hos gone before —Gloria, King
comers 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, one who can further her ca
reer. Later she leaves him, and It is
then that she makes good through tal
ent alone, Ry this time, however, she
has become spoiled, and plunges into a
life of false gayety. She is brought to
a realization of where she is drifting
when she runs over a little boy. Just
as she makes plans for regaining her
freedom, Rolf is seized with
nia. The doctor sends for her, and in
bis delirium Rolf tells her over and
over that he loves her. Gloria, realizes
that she, too, cares. Rolf's life is de
spaired of, but the fight continues.—
Now go on with the story.
CHAPTER XLV
Will He Reinember?
GLORIA was not conscious that she had
sat beside Rolf all through th? long
night, until turning her head wearily
‘ toward the windows, she saw the gray light
of dawn stealing in under the shade.
Suddenly she realized that the room had
become very quiet. There was no longeT'
the sound of that rasping breathing tearing
through the silence, and with a shudder of
fear she leaned closer to Rolf. He had
stopped raving, his face lav quietly against
the pillow, his breath was gentle, even, his
face had a better color.
Miss Mitchell c .me over to the hbd.sidfl *
and bent down over the patient. When slr'A
raised her head she. smiled at Gloria, a
of relief in her tired eyes.
“He’s sleeping,” she whispered. “I think
he’s passed the crisis. The doctors were
expecting it, but they warned tie not to tell
you.” «-
Gloria looked up with wide, incredulous
eyes. She heard the words, but somehow
their meaning was more than she could
take in, and with a little gasp, she crum
pled up and would have slipped ro the floor,
if Miss Mitchell had not caught her.
The two nurses carried her to bed. and
Dr. Townsend administered a sedative. When
Gloria opened her eyes again, the sun was
streaming into her room, and as she lay
there for a moment, dazed and making an
effort to collect her thoughts, Miss Mitch
ell opened the door softly, and seeing that
Gloria .was awake, came over to the bed.
Gloria started up in quick terror, but the
nurse’is broad grin was reassuring.
“Mr. Templeton is conscious this morning.
He had a little coffee at seven o’clock. He’s
going to get well.’
Going to get well, going to get well! The
words repeated themselves over and over in
Gloria’s brain. And then, “Mr. Templeton is
conscious this morning,” brought a new trend
of thoughts.
“Has he asked for me?” the words came In
a breathless rush, followed by, “Shall I go
to him?’
The nurse shook her head.
“Not yet, my dear. You see he doesn’t re
member what he said in his delirium. It may.'
be that he won’t remember anything about
your being here during his illness. We must
wait until he’s stronger so as not to give him
a setback. A violent shock would be bad for
him just at this time. You can see that.”
During breakfast, Gloria kept turning the
•situation over and over in her mind. If'Rolf ,
did not remember that he had called for her
during his delirium, how could she go to him? -
How could she be sure that he wanted her?
The thought was vaguely disturbing. It
'.londcd her happiness, it filled her with mis
givings.
She tried to argue herself out of such
thought and almost succeeded. Why, of
course, he would remember. Just as soon as
he grew a little stronger, he would ask for
her, and then she would go to him. Her
cheeks flushed hot at the thought, a, new-born,
shyness made her tremble deliciously. Her
mind wandered away into the future, a fu
ture when Rois would be himself again. They
would be together. They might go away for
a short vacation, another honeymoon. Thera
would be moonlight nights, low banging stars,
perhaps the dying embers of a fire, and she
close in his arms. Her heart leaped at the
thought.
Remember? Why, of course, he would re
member. He loved her, she was sure of that,
as sure as she was of the fact that she loved
him. And yet, if by any chance he didn't ask
for her, what would happen then? What
could she do*.
'I hursday—“Young People's Pride.’’ Re
new your subscription now to avoid missing
a chapter.
MY FAVORITE STORIES
BY IRVIN COB* M
A native Alabamian, who had spent severaW®
years in New York, went back to his old home
on a visit. Upon the first evening of his ar
rival the son of an old negro retainer of the
family called to pay his respects to the re
turned prodigal.
“Sam,” said the white gentleman, “I re
member your father with affectionate regards.
What's the reason he hasn’t come around to
see me?”
“Mouty good reason. boss,” said Sam.
“Pappy he up an’ died on us yere about six
months ago.”
“Well, I certainly am distressed to hear it,”
‘ said the visitor. Your father was a good
citizen and he was bright, even if he had no
education, and he had a philosophy that was
all his own. - 1
“Yes, suh, dat he did,” agreed the pleased
Sam. “His mind wuz clear right up to de
end.”
< i>
“Well, tell me then what his last words
were? Uli bet they were worth hearing.”
“Pappy didn’t have no last words.”
“Why not? Wasn't he conscious?”
“Yas, suh.’
“Well, then, why didn't he have any last
words?’
‘‘Cause Mammy wuz wid him.”
(Copyright, 1924.)
_ t
Yes, Lester, a man may feel as young at"'
50 as he did at 20, but be doesn't know
as much.
Time works wonders. So would a man
if he put in twenty-four hours a day as
time dops.
No, captain, not all girls are angelic be
cause they have water wings.
Don’t think that you are a veritable Sam
son and try to accomplish too much with a
jawbone.
tendency to put on weight ought to be com
batted by heart patients. They have special
need for nourishment, to he sure, but. if they
permit themselves to become obese they
thereby put an additional burden on their
already weakened hearts.
(Copyright, 1924.)