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f Read “THE GODDESSthe Big, New Serial, Here Day by Day, Then See It in the Motion Pictures
THE ©EOIBGIM’S MAGAZINE
THE GODDESS S 1 he Serial Beautiful ® By gouvkrneur morris and Charles goddard
By Gouvemeur Morris
and
Charles W. Goddard.
(Copyright. 1118. b* Mur ratnvanr >
D R. SARGENT turned somewhat
impatiently, but, on perceiving
that Tommy belonged to the
world of wealth and fashion, and was
not a reporter, his manner changed
to one of' brusque courtesy.
•'I've only Just discovered,” said
Tommy, "that Celeatla—I am not at
liberty to tell you her real name (he
wasn't for the simple reason that he
didn't know what it was)—is being
held here until her friends can be dis
covered I am one of her friends, and
I have come to take her away."
Dr. Sargent shook his head slightly,
and said something in which Profes
sor Stllliter’s name decurred.
"Tee, I know,” said Tommy, "but
there Is a great difference between
being Interested In a case and being
Interested in a person. Professor St 11-
liter is interested In her mental state.
And I—well. I’m Just interested in
her."
*T have no authority to turn her
over to you. Don't misunderstand me,
but I don't even know who you are."
"I can’t tell you who she is." said
Tommy; "it wouldn’t be right. But I’m
Tommy Barclay, and 1 can really give
very satisfactory references if 1 have
to."
Dr. Sargent smiled now in a really
friendly manner.
"You don’t have to," he said. "I
know you; I know Mr. Barclay very
well, indeed. And still, as long as
Stilliter brought her here, and told me
to keep her until he sent # for her, 1
don’t really see how I can let you take
her away. Of course, I know she
would be in good hands, why not wait
until I can communicate with Stilli
ter r
“I have no use for him," said Tom
my, "any more than he has for me. If
you let Celeatla go with me he will
probably be angry, and yet the rights
of the matter are entirely on my side."
"I don't wish to be indiscreet, bul
is she a relative of yours?"
There was a good deal of Irish in
Tommy’s smile, and his eyes twinkled
br’ghtly as he said:
"Not yet."
"Not yet? I don’t think I quite un
derstand."
"Why," said Tommy, "it’s very sim
ple. I am engaged to her."
If he had been the most truthful
young man in the world he might
have said: "I am engaged to her, hut
she isn’t engaged to me."
Still for a moment Dr. Sargent hesi
tate. Then he smiled and said: "Aft
er all, she Is not under detention. She’s
as sane as I am, except for tile hallu
cinations about a heavenly origin, and
If you want to take her away and if
she wants to go with you, I have no
right to interfere. Just wait a mo
ment, will you?"
In a few minutes he returned with
Celeatla. She had been very angry
with Tommy because he had not
come out of the water to rescue her
from Stilliter, but the sight of him
now dissipated all* that remained of
her wrath. She took two step* to
ward him, holding out both hands.
And she exclaimed: "Oh, Tommy!
I'm SO glad. You did come, didn’t
you.”
"Just as quickly as ever I could,"
said Tommy.
I>r. Sargent had drawn back smil
ing. "Lord,’ he thought, "what a
handsome couple.”
“I've got a taxi outside,” said Tom
my. ‘ Can you be ready in a few min
utes?’’
"I’m ready now. "
Tommy lifted a long raincoat which
he had brought with him from the j
arm of the chair in which he had been
sitting.
"Will you put this on?" he asked,
"I’m afraid New York isn’t used to
Greek clothes, and we don’t want a
crowd, do we?"
"No,” said Celeatla, "Just us two."
THE GODDESS—the Serial Beautiful-
written by two famous authors and presented
by the Hearst newspapers in collaboration
with the renowned Vitagraph Players under
the direction of Mr. Ralph Ince.
•S*®***
Miss Anita Stewart as the Goddess.
•{•••}■ •}•••}■ •*••+ +•+ +•+
Mr. Earl Williams as Tommy Barclay.
+ •+ 4-»4- •!•••!• +• +
Be sure to read each installment careful
ly, and then see the characters and the thrill-
ings incidents spring to life in the motion pic
tures.
Tommy tries in vain to induce the hotel manager to take Celestia in.
She turned to the doctor and held
out her hand.
"Thank you," she raid, "for decid
ing that I’m not a lunatic.”
Tommy put her into the taxicab and
they drove up town; Celestia asking
a hundred questions a minute about
everything which interested her, and
Tommy answering her questions a*
fast as he could and trying to decide
what he had better do with her Be
yond getting her away from Stilliter,
he had no very definite plan?.
“Celestia," he said suddenly, "at
first the doctor didn’t want to give
you up, and I’m afraid Wtold him a
white lie." The young man blushed
as he spoke. “I told him I was en
gaged to you, and, of course, he be
lieves that you are engaged to me.
And, of course, you aren’t, unless you
want to be."
“Are you engaged to me?” she ex
claimed.
"Yes,” said Tommy, "it happened
suddenly, on the island. I’m engaged
to you for always.’’
"Then you must love me.”
“I do,” said Tommy. "I do."
"You say you love me, and then you
say you don’t believe what I tell you.”
“Meaning about Heaven and all?”
He asked this, very humbly.
She nodded and said:
"I haven’t really tried to make any
body believe but you. But I’ve looked
at you hard, and willed you to be
lieve, and you won’t. I don’t under
stand. Anybody else would."
"Did the doctors, Celestia?"
"I didn’t try to make them. It isn’t
necessary yet. I must get a little
used to the world, mustn’t I, before I
can help it?"
On any other point she seemed as
rational as any other young girl who
was seeing the great city of New
York for the first time. But It began
to look as if she would have to spend
the rest of her life in the taxicab.
No hotel would take her In. Her
clothes amounted to no more than an
opaque nightgown with a raincoat
thrown over it, and her bare feet
caused almost as much excitement
and distrust as her beauty. Tommy
escorted her into two hotels in which
only women guests are received. In
each the manager flatly refused to
admit her.
(To Bo Continued.)
(See "The Goddess” in motion pic
ture at Alamo No.*‘i theater on Tues
days.)
—The
Story
of
z
oe
Hopeless Love
(Copfrifht. AMortattd N>wM>ap*r». ltd H
rt«J rifhu In U. A. ►.rid by lnUrn*tlou»l N»*i
Service.)
(By CORALIE STANTON and
HEATH HOSKEN.)
A VERY unsatisfactory chat In the
palatial smoking room—un
satisfactory from Demonvale’s
point of view, and an exchange of
whiskies and sodas completed the
evening. Brooke, looking at his watch
for about the twelfth time, took the
plunge.
"Awfully sorry,” he said. "I’m afraid
I must be off."
Brooke apologized cheerily.
Brooke Makes an
Excuse and Goes.
"Correspondence," he said vaguely.
"Suppier engagement. I ordered my
car to be round at 10."
Five minutes afterward Godfrey
Brooke was driving himself down
Pall Mall, the drenched chauffeur sit
ting gloomily by his side.
"Bad storm—eh?” remarked Brooke.
"Awful, sir," said the man. "Light
ning struck Doulton’s chimney. I hear,
sir. Very bad down Chelsea way."
"Pshaw!" grunted Brooke. "You
don’t know what a storm is in this
little country.”
tfyen'ng paper contents bill in
formed tig world that a woman had
been strut* dead by lightning in
South Lambeth a'Wl that Westminster
Abbey was reported imaged
"Humph!" remarked ’Epjoke.
"What’s one woman in a great cityY
"Yea. sir," said the chauffeur, defer
entially, "of course, sir. Still, one
life mav mean a lot to some one, you
know, sir."
"Bosh!" said Brooke. "Sentimental
bash! I’m not taking personal consid
erations in the argument One can't
think of sons and daughters when one
talks of thunderstorms. Snooks.”
"No, sir; of course not; nor wives,
neither."
"As you say, 'nor wives neither,’
but here we are."
They swung slowly into the Savoy
courtyard, and Brooke felt his heart
beat faster. In another minute or two
his wife, his little Di, would be In
his arms.
What a wonderful thing was love!
• • • •
"Her ladyship,’’ said a gorgeously
arrayed hall p>orter to Brooke as he
alighted from his huge motor car,
"was called away unexpectedly, and
she aaked me to tell you (hat she
would not be back till very late.”
Brooke’s disappointment was plain
ly shown on his face.
"Called away unexpectedly?" he re
peated. "What do you mean?”
‘That was her ladyship’s message,
sir," replied the hall porter.
"Humph!" Brooke frowned in his
endeavor to hide his really acute dis
appointment. He was not particularly
curious as to the reason of his wife’s
absence. It never occurred to him.
Had she left word that she had been
unavoidably called away to the Ork-
Islands or to Tangier, he would
no letter from
I
7
have accepted it without question. He
vaguely supposed that her mother
was ill or that some family illness
was the cause, but the paramount
feeling was one of almost childish
disappointment.
■'Will you want me again to-night,
sir?" asked Snooks, the chauffeur.
"You’d better w'ait," said Brooke,
shortly "I am not sure."
Then he went up to his apartments.
His man Collier was reading the sec
ond volume of Ruskln's "Stones of
•Venice."
"Where’s your mistress ?’’ asked
Brooke, sharply.
"I don’t know, sir," answered Col
lier, whose brain was full of archl-
volts and cusps and windows of the
fifth order. "Her ladyship is out. l’lt
ask Berenger."
Louise Berenger was Lady Brooked
maid, and she was in bed and asleep.^ t
She had had Instructions from her*
mistress Justifying such an early re»
tirement three hours ago.
"It doesn’t matter," said BrookV.'
"Don’t bother. There’
her ladyship?’’
’None, sir."
"Good! Then aay, when her lady
ship returns, that 1 have gone round
to have a chat with Mr. Crawley. 1
shall be back very soon." $
"Very good, sir."
Brooke Goes Round
To Call on Crawley.
And so Collier returned to his study [
of Venet an window ar&YftHlse B *r-
r J..y« r the *,eep of the Just in her
room.
It was .Just then about 11 o’clock.
He went' outside and spoke to his
chauffeur.
"I’m going to drive round to Mr.
Crawley’s," he said. "I won’t keep
you. I’ll leave the car here afterward.
I shall want you at 11 to-morrow."
Snooks was relieved, though he an
swered deferentially enough that he
would accompany hla master If he
wished it and that time was of no
account to him; but Brooke had the
mind to drive by himself to-night.
He was disappointed at finding
Diana out. For the moment It upset
his plans; and perhaps. If the truth
were known, he felt not a little an
noyed. At any rate, he would go
round to/Crawley’s studio and vent
bis annoyance on his old friend. It
was his privilege, and It would do him
good. Moreover, there were several
things he wanted to discuss with him,
and the present was surely the most
fitting opportunity.
He bade Snooks good-night, and
drove the car down the hill on the
embankment, then, at rather a reck
less pace, to Grosvenor road.
Lights gleamed from Crawley’s
windows. Brooke observed them with
a certain sense of satisfaction. He
would have been very annoyed to have
been disappointed a second time to
night. Moreover he was beginning to
feel a very keen desire for a little so
cial intercourse over a whisky and
soda. He quite looked forward to
seeing Noel Crawley.
He stopped his engines, threw a wa
terproof rug over the seat, and, scorn
ing the aid of the lift, ran up flight
after flight of steps to Crawley’s front
door, on which he gave a resounding '
tattoo of knuckle raps and then rang I
the bell.
There was no answer. He waited j
fully two minutes. Still no answer. I
He repeated the tattoo, and kept his \
thumb on the Ivory button of the elec
tric bell for half a minute, but still
without result. Yet ouslde he had I
seen lights In the great bow window
of the studio and from the other win
dows, while here a light shone through
the fanlight over the front door.
"What on earth is he up to?” mut
tered Brooke, stepping back and re
garding the closed door with quizzical
curiosity. "Rum chap, Crawley! He’s
always up to sume mysterious game!"
He shrugged his massive shoulders.
"Suppose I’d fetter give it up as a
bad job," he said, disgustedly. "Hang
It all my luck is out to-night, with a
vengeance."
® Killing by Suggestion ®
An Odd Practice in New Guinea
T
(To Be Continued.)
HE expedition led last year up the
Fly River in British New Guinea
by Sir Rupert Clarke resulted in
the discovery of some amazing customs;
for the members pt the party fell In
with many who had never seen a white
man before.
These natives practice magic which
they call kuri-kurl—which kills men by
suggestion. "No man among them,”
says Sir Rupert, "Is supposed to die
naturally. The magic man tells him he
is going to die and he promptly does
die. It may not be all hypnotism. Sup
posing a man is told that he is to die
j from snake bite, it is not difficult to
make certain of his death.
"When a man is dead his relatives
must get a head so that his spirit will
rest in peace. They go out on a mur
dering expedition and get their head
from the nearest tribe they can sur
prise. It doesn’t matter to them wheth
er the head is that of a man, woman or
child.
"The girls will not marry a man un
less h> has a certain number of heads
and has killed a man in personal com
bat. When a new house is built there
must be more killing, because the posts
of the house have to be sprinkled with
human blood. The hideous warfare
never ceases, for a tribe which has been
attacked must seek revenge.
"The continual fear of surprise at
tacks is shown in the character of the
houses. These were built in the trees.
They were rested on scaffold poles fifty
feet to sixty feet from the ground, were
beautifully thatched, and were chiefly
constructed of palm leaves. They were
loopholed in the sides for arrows, and
holes had been left in the floor through
which stones could be dropped on the
heads of an enemy.
Large quantities of stores are kept
in the houses. These tree-dwellers also
wear a kind of bamboo cuirass, which
Is arrow-proof and would be shot-proof.
The arrows used are about five feet long
and are projected from very powerful
bows. I don’t think a white man could
draw their bows. I have known a man
to be pierced through by an arrow from
a distance of 2>00 yards."
What Would Be the Use.
Biffer—Does your wife doubt your
word when you are telling her the
truth?
Sniffer—I have never given her a
chance.
Make a Study of Yourself
Hold Up the Mirror of Honesty to Your Eyes.
By BEATRICE FAIRFAX.
4.VE you ever held up before
your character the mirror of
honesty? Suppose you try it
now, for never poet gave wiser advice
than that contained in, "Know', then,
thyself—presume not God to scan.
The proper study of mankind is man."
What you know of yourself ought
to give you vast toleration for others
It ought to make it possible for you
to measure life with sanity and to
help you to work out your own rela
tion to It.
It is very easy to build up a little
ideal of what vou would like to be.
Between Seasons! ’ *
By NELL BRINKLEY
Copyright, 191B, International Nawa Sendee.
7V7
or to dream dreams of what you are
going to do and to imagine that in
planning you have creditably accom
plished. It is easy to explain all your
needs on the grounds of higher mo
tives than you ever had.
Pettiness may masquerade as sensi
tiveness, bitterness as honesty, malice
as high-minded desire to save people
from disillusionment. Don’t hedge—
don’t quibble. Look yourself square
ly and honestly in the face. Perhaps
it will hurt when you see a bit of
shifty dishonesty, a tendency to lie
weakly out of scrapes, a narrow
minded attitude tow r ard your neigh
bors and a Jealous passion of rage for
the love you want and don’t get.
There Is no luck in the world except
that which comes from making
friends with circumstance. There is
no fortune except that of high desert.
Take stock of your abilities and de
servings. They are your assets. If
you know your material, you can
work It to advantage in any field or
endeavor. Well, then, learn the hu
man material that Is yourself, and so
make the honest, strongest MOST of
It.
Second-Hand Leeches.
"As long ago as last November
there were only a few dozen leeches
left in London, and they were second
hand!" said Dr. Shipley, master of
Christ’s College, Cambridge.
The serious shortage of leeches In
England caused much concern, owing
to the fact that the armies of Gen
eral Joffre. General von Hlndenhurg
and the Grand Duke Nicholas are
fighting over some of the best leech
areas in Euroe.
India, however, came to the rescue,
and London has now an adequate
supply of Indian leeches of a new spe
cies
Although bleeding, 1' aech»g and _
.aping are not p'/acticed nosradg. ys
to fivthing like * the extent tha. pi - 0 _
vail*o In yvar* gone by, there are iiD
stances, among so many wounded
men, where it is necessary to relieve
a congested area. In certain condi-
| tions it brings relief and saves life,
! when no other means would act with
: sufficient pron^ptness.
From one to twelves leeches are ap
plied at a time, the average leech
withdrawing some two drachms of
blood.
M
AY Is a woolly iamb unit lnnaona u« changeable pi ace on tne teeter-board between
Summer and Winter! He wabbles gently toward one end—and Winter goes up—
and we get a spit of cold rain In the face that makes our back dream It has snow
down It, and the birds fluff up their mufflers round their necks and say, "Sweet—babee-
ee-ee!" In a plaintive call that sends you back clear to Christmas; and we wish It wasn't
foolish-looking to put on furs again!
And then May ambles toward the other end—and Summer, laughing, little Summer,
with her butterflies and her wispy parasol, and her bure-neck-and-arms with the soft air
t
Economizing Labor.
Two laborers were engaged to
deepen a well which had become dry
One of them sent his mate down Into
the well while he sat at the top and
directed the work. He first ordered
the other man to “dig a bit on this
side,” then "dig a little more on that
side,” until the latter, tired of both
the work and the orders, exclaimed:
“You sit up there and use your tongue
while I have to do all the work!”
"One man here giving directions,” said
the man at the top, "can do as much
as ten men down there.” Thereupon
his mate threw down his pick and
climbed up beside the other man.
"What are you doing here?” inquired
the latter. "Two men up here,” an
swered his mate, "can do as much as
twenty men down there!”
blowing on tnem, up she goes! And we shut our eyes and go on camping! And we begin to
count how many white socks we have, and wonder where our fishing tackle Is, and where
our pet slouch-hat Is wadded away. And all the Summer doings begin to march out In » : ^ad hatTlts
Why She Laughed.
Several ladles sat in their club a
few evenings ago discussing the virtues
of their husbands.
"Mr. Bingleton," said one of them, re
ferring to her life partner, "never drinks
and never swears—Indeed, he has no
"Does he never smoke?’’ some one
asked.
"Yes. He likes a cigar just after
row and crook their fingers at you!
Just now it’s between seasons! One day the mirage of Summer shimmers before our
spellbound eyes—and the next we are standing with first our heels and then our toes to has eaten a s°°d meal. But, I sup,
* _ , , on an average, he does not smoke \
the grate-fire, and the cross but pretty Winter-girl is up! May is a woolly lamb. And lambs i than once a month."
1 Some of her friends laughed- Out tthe
did not seem to understand Vhy.
are mighty whimsy.—NELL BRINKLEY.