sh,
'
|
1
{
(Continued from last week).
SYNOPSIS
CHAPTER 1.-—Winton Garrett, twen-
ty-five and just out of college, calls by
appointment on Archie Garrett, his New
York cousin and executor, to receive
his inheritance of $100,000. Archie,
honest, an easy mark and a fool for
luck, assures Winton that he is prac-
tically a millionaire, as he has invested
all but $10,000 in a rubber plantation
fn either the East or West Indies and
in a controlling interest in the Big
Malopo diamond mine, somewhere or
other in South Africa, sold him as a
special favor by a Dutch promoter
named De Witt.
CHAPTER IL—Winton, en route to
his mine, finds the town of Taungs
wildly excited over a big strike at
Malopo, including the 95-carat ‘De Witt
diamond.” Two coach passengers are
a disreputable old prospector, Daddy
Seaton, and his daughter Sheila. On
the journey a passenger, who turns out
to be De Witt himself, insults Sheila.
Winton fights De Witt and knocks him
out. Sheila tells him to turn back. She
says that her father is a broken Eng-
lish army oilicer, who has killed a man
and is therefore in De Witt's power,
that De Witt is all-powerful. being
backed by Judge Davis, president of
the diamond syndicate and also the
resident magistrate and judge of the
native protectorate.
On claims more recently taken up
men were hard at work with picks, or
washing the clay in cradles. Nobody
paid the least attention to the way-
farers.
Wintor's companion led him along
the road that ran the length of the
claims. Here and there were to be
seen native gangs herded within the
barbed wire tangles of their com-
pounds. At length the desert reap-
peared. Sam stopped.
“This is the Big Malopo, sir,” he said.
Winton looked in front of him. He
saw a small shack, a patch of yellow
ground, and many coils of barbed wire
that had not yet been set up. There
was nothing more,
“The De Witt diamond was pickeé
up right Rere, sir,” said Sam.
“Ilow far does the claim extend?”
asked Winton. “What are those men
doing there? Are tney the Big Malopo
men?”
“No, sir. 'That 1s another claim. The
claims are not extensive, sir. The Big
Malopo is a large one. It measures
two hundred feet by seventy-five. You
will find Mr. Burns, the watchman, in
that building, sir, if you wish to see
him. But he will not answer questions.
He is a misanthropical man, sir. You
are interested in the Big Malopo, sir?”
“Yes. I own it,” answered Winton.
“At least, four-fifths of it. I am Win-
ton Garrett.”
Before the words had slipped from
his mouth he regretted the rashness of
his self-betrayal. But the effect upon
the negro was extraordinary. He
stared and gaped, edged away, and
then broke into a quick run, and never
stopped as long as he was within
sight.
Winton stood looking after him in as-
tonishment until he had disappeared in
the distance; then, after a moment of
hesitation, he stepped up to the shack
and tapped at the door.
An elderly man appeared instantly.
He had a white beard and a shock of
white hair. He was in his shirt sleeves,
and he carried a shotgun in his hands.
From his appearance Winton inferred
that he would not be chary of using it.
“Another of ’em!” he cried angrily,
leveling the gun. “You make tracks be-
fore I get my eye in, young feller.
There ain't nothing to see.”
“I came to see Mr. De Witt,” said
Winton.
“He's gone out of town and won't
be back till to-morrow afternoon, and
if you want a job there ain’t nothing.”
“1 believe you are the watchman?”
Winton asked. “What's your name?”
“My name’s Ned Burns,” shouted the
old man. “What's yours?”
“My name's Garrett, and I hold a
good block of shares in the Big Ma-
lopo,” answered Winton recklessly.
The old man stared incredulously at
him. Then he turned into the shack,
beckoning mysteriously to Winton to
follow,
“What's the game?’ he asked bitter-
ly. “You ain’t lying for fun?”
“Read that,” said Winton, pulling
Archie’s letter of introduction to De
Witt out of his pocket. He had de-
cided impulsively, but, as he was con-
vinced, rightly, to trust Ned Burns.
Parenthetically, he had been recon-
ciled to Archie before he left New
York. It was impossible to bear ill-
feeling against Archie, and after all,
Archie had done his best. He was
simply incapable.
But was he incapable, or had his
luck held true?
Ned Burns took a pair of heavy, sil-
ver-rimmed spectacles from a little
table in the shack, drew the letter out
of the envelope with shaking fingers,
and read it. He handed it back with-
out a word, searching Winten’s eyes,
though, keenly, with his own. Then,
opening a drawer in the table, he took
out an ancient and much worn Bible.
“Lay your hand here,” he said, open-
ing the book at random. “Now swear
vou've told the truth.”
“That’s going a little further than I
sensi
VICTOR
ROUSSEATL
COPYRIGHT 4y WG.CHAPMAN
have a mind to, Mr. Burns,” said Win-
ton
LU.
“Aye, aye!” muttered the old man.
“Maybe you're right there. But we'll
soon put your words to the proof of the
Book that never lies.”
Ye took up the Bible and began read-
ing from the page at which he had
opened it:
“And after him Abdon the son of
Hillel judged Israel. And he had forty
sons and thirty sons’ sons, that rode on
threescore and ten ass colts; and he
judged Israel eight years.” He snapped
the Bible shut. ‘Man, you've told me
the truth!” he cried.
“I believe so,” answered Winton.
“But how do you get that sense from
the passage you have been reading?”
“Man, it's easy.
to them that know how to search the
Scriptures. Abdon's Mr. Davis. Mr.
Davis is the judge, ain't he? And
Israel’s Malopo. And the forty sons
and thirty sons’ sons are tle men who
cate. And the threescore and ten ass
colts are the same poor fools them-
selves, that work for those swindlers,
and are asses without knowing it.
And the eight years is me, who've
worked for Judge Davis and Mr. De
Witt these eight years past, here and
in Kimberley, and am discharged at
the end of the month because Mr. De
hody else.”
“Steady, Mr. Burns,” said Winton.
“There isn’t going to be any discharg-
ing until I've had my say.”
Ned Burns grunted
and Winton suddenly felt his heart
full of flaming anger.
“And what the devil has Mr. De
Witt got to do with the Big Malopo,
anyway?” he asked. ,
der. “Mr. Garrett, my lad,” he an-
swered, “it ain't insulting a man to
reli him to his face he's green.”
“Not if he is green.”
“You're green, boy. Listen to me!
1 don’t love those thieves in the syndi-
cate, and wren Mr. De Witt discharged
me at the end of the month he knew,
didn’t he, that there ain’t no job for
men of my age in Malopo, and that no-
too old to hold his own against the
niggers, when they break loose in the
compounds? That's me, Ned Burns,
stiff from rheumatics. And me, set
here like an old hen over that dia-
mond patch, with millions to be picked
wp, and Mr. De Witt knows he can
trust me not to take a smell of the
ground. Not but he knows any man'd
nard labor even to buy diamonds in
this country.”
Ned Burns seemed possessed by nus
grievances to the exclusion of all elze.
And Winton had a knack, somehow, nf
striking a man’s moods at the right
moment. It was a quick impulse, a
swift decision, and the exact action,
He took the old fellow’s hands in his.
“Mr. Burns, I guess we need each
other,” he said. “I'm green. You're
discharged. Post me on the situation
and you can rely on me that you're not
discharged. I only landed a week
ago,” he added ingenuously, “and I
haven't begun to understand the first
thing about this country. I thought all
I would have to do would be to prove
my identity and step into the busi
ness.”
“Oh, Lord!” said Ned Burns. “Sit
down here, Mr. Garrett. Yes, you're
green, sir, but the same good fortune
that brought you to me will see you
through your difficulties. Sit down.”
He pushed a packing case toward
Winton, who took his seat beside the
watchman.
“You dort xnoW Nothing about the
situation here?’ asked Ned. “Just
bought the shares and come out to run
things?”
“Something like that. My trustee
bought the shares for me,” Winton an-
swered.
Ned nodded. “Here it is,” he said.
two years ago. And it come to nothing.
the yellow ground, and when they'd
dug and dug and didn’t get enough out
tired and moved away. But a few of
the far-sighted ones stayed. The syn-
dicate had gobbled up a quarter of the
claims, and it stayed. The Diamond
Fields Amalgamated owned another
quarter—that’s Van Beer's concern—
and it stayed. That” ought to have
showed people there was something in
Malopo.
“But, anyway, they thought the
claims was good for nothing, and set
out to unload the rotten shares wher-
ever they could. That’s how you got
your shares, Mr. Garrett. Then, last
week, a kid Tottie girl coming into
town with a basket to.buy flour picked
up a big pebble right there in that
hole. That was the De Witt stone.
All things are easy
work for the Diamond Fields Syndi-
Witt has promised the job to some-
incredulously, |
Ned Burns laid a hand on his shoul- :
pody would hire a man who'd grown
who’ve given Mr. De Witt eight years, |
and as strong as ever, except my arm's |
pe a fool to steal when it’s seven years’ |
“When the first diamonds was found '
in Malopo there was a rush. That was |
You see, the stones is at the bottom of |
of it to pay their board people got !
Ninety-five carats, they estimate it will
weigh, when it’s been cut. She showed
it to me. I gave her five pounds for
it, and Mr. De Witt called me a fool,
and swore when he paid me back.
That’s Mr, De Witt, but I don’t know
he’s any meaner than that old hypo-
crite, Judge Davis.
“Somehow the news got into the
papers down-country. Forty-eight hours
the first rush of prospectors from
Taungs took to get up here, and they
couldn't understand why people in
Malopo was ignorant of what had hap-
pened. Next day a hundred came from
the Transvaal. Next day comes the
colony rush. And today the popula-
tion of Malopo looks like doubling
every week. You may have passed
some of them on the roads?”
“Yes, the road’s alive with them.”
“It’s one of the big rushes, Mr. Gar-
rett, like in the old Kimberley days,
and you can guess how De Witt's
crowd is kicking itself for not having
gobbled up the Big Malopo. They're
finding stones everywhere as they get
down toward the bottom of the yellow
ground. And De Witt let the property
go down when he could have gobbled it
for a song.”
“I seem to have walked into the situ-
ation at the most interesting moment,”
suggested Winton.
“You certainly have, Mr. Garrett,
Not but what I was expecting some-
thing to turn up. I was lying awake
last night, puzzling and worrying, and
i I thought I'd find what the book had
| to say. So I opened it in the dark and
, struck a light, and the first words my
eyes fell upon was that passage where
| David danced before the Ark and his
| wife nagged him for making a show
{ of himself. And he'd took off his
| clothes in his frenzy, as gou’ll no
doubt remember. Now, sir, I put it
to you, could there have been anything
more like a sign?”
“But what was your interpretation?’
inquired Winton.
“Why, it’s perfectly simple, sir, to
them that’s got the gift to understand
i David’s Judge Davis, of course, and his
wife's De Witt, who's always girding
at him to be crookeder than God made
him naturally. And the clothes he
took off is his smug Pharisee face
that's going to be unmasked. And the
' Ark—well, I thought that was Malopo.
But now I see it’s you. He's going
to dance before you, sir, and you're
going to be the piper.”
“I hope so, Mr. Burns,” said Winton.
{ Ned Burns laid a hand on Winton’s
arm. “Tell me one thing,” he said.
“How many people know you are in
Malopo?”
“Two,” answered Winton.
self and a colored man.”
Ned Burns stared at him. “I don’t
quite make that out,” he said. “You've
kept your businesg to yourself mostly,
but you've told a nigger?”
I “The man Sam from the Chronicle.”
“Sam Simpson?’ cried Ned. “Then
you might as well have gone straight
to Mr. De Witt and his crowd. Sam’s
tne whole Chronicle and the Chron-
icle’s Judge Davis. The Chronicle
| couldn’t run without Sam. There
ain't anybody here with the education
to run it but Sam, for all his play about
Heing a newsboy. That's just one of
| Judge Davis’ tricks. How did you
| come to tell Sam Simpson?”
i “TI met him selling papers, he showed
| me the way here, and we got into con-
versation,” said Winton, feeling un-
commonly foolish. “No doubt that ex-
plains why he left me rather sudden-
lv,” he added.
“No doubt,” answered Ned dryly.
He just run back as hard as he could
20 to tell the judge. Now, Mr. Garrett,
1'l coine to the point, You've got &
big game to play, and you've just come
“Your-
| in time to play tt. Theres to be a
meeting of the snarehoiders of the Big |
Mzelopo iu the Chamber of Commerce
building tomorrow morning at ten.
That means Mr. De Witt, Judze Davis,
and maybe two or three more—and
vou. And they're going to wind up aud
turn the Big Malopo over to the syn-
dicate,”
“1 don't think so,” said \Winton.
“I'm glad to hear you say that,” an-
swered Ned earnestly. “But De Witt
and Judge Davis won't stop at nothing
to get hold of the Big Malopo. You
see, Mr. Garrett, there's diamonds all
through this yellow ground, but the big
diamonds comes out of the blue pipe,
and the blue pipe’s on our claim.
That's pretty well known because we're
the center of the diamond ground.”
He went on briefly to explain how
the diamonds, formed in the volcanic
pipes under pressure, were forced up-
ward and distributed through the sur-
rounding territory within a certain
radius about the pipe's mouth. The
pipe itself undoubtedly lay in the
Malopo claim, probably immediately
beneath the place where the De Witt
! stone had been discovered.
“You asked me just now what Mr.
De Witt had to do with us,” said Ned,
“using words for which I hope you
| may be forgiven. There's your answer,
sir.” Tomorrow the syndicate gets hold
of the Big Malopo unless you're on
| hand in the Chamber of Commerce
“I'll be there,” answered Winton.
“Remember, they'll stop you if they
can, and by now they know that you're
in Malopo. It may be they're making
their plans while we sit talking here.
Go home, Mr. Garrett, and stay there.
Keep among the crowd. Don’t obey
no messages, nor go to meet nobody.
Where is it?”
“The Continental.”
“The best place. Stay there ail the
evening. See your window's fastened.
| Put something against your door.
Keep your revolver handy—"
. “I've never owned a revolver in my
i life,” said Winton.
Ned Burns made a clucking sound
and, opening the drawer, pulled out a
|
i
| building at ten to stop it.”
1
small automatic. “Take this, Mr. Gar-
ret,” he said. “You may need it. It’s
Ned Burns opened
the drawer and pulled
out a small automatic.
loaded. That'll be all.
Except,
member not to talk alone to strangers.”
“No, there's something more,” said
re-
Winton. “I
breakfast.
Mr. Burns?”
Ned Burns shook his head as if he
thought Winton uncommonly green.
But he took some bread and bacon
from a closet, and, going to the door,
began to build a little fire of sticks in
front of the shack. Soon Winton was
eating with more relish than he had
felt since he had landed.
“I'll do what you say, Mr. Burns,” he
said, when the meal was ended. “And
don’t worry about your job. We stand
together. It seems like Providence, my
turning up at this time.”
“It is Providence,” answered Burns.
“Half a minute, Mr. Garrett. We'll
see what the book has to say about it.”
He brought the Bible out of the
shack, opened it, and began to read:
‘One young bullock, one ram, one he-
lamb of the first year, for a burnt offer-
ing; one male of the goats for a sin
offering ; this was the oblation of Ahira
the son of Enan.”
He closed the Book. “We win, Mr.
Garrett,” he said in a tremulous voice.
“We win.”
“How do you make that out?” asked
Winton.
“It’s as plain as a pikestaff, sir. The
young bullock is the Big Malopo. The
ram's Judge Davis. The he-lamb of
the first year is yourself. The male of
the goats for a sin offering is Mr. De
Witt, who’s to be punished for his
sins.”
came away without
Can you give me a bite,
Winton.
“That’s the big diamond,” responded
Ned.
had not yet learned of the supposed
robbery, and Winton did not think it
necessary to enlighten him. He bade
him good-by and turned toward Malopo.
But his mind was in a whirl, and, feel-
ing the need of being alone in order to
think, Winton retraced his steps after
he had gone some distance, crossed the
diamond fields by means of a succes-
sion of plank paths, and made his
way into the desert. The diggers, hard
at work in the sun, paid no attention
te him.
Once beyond the fields, Winton walked
leisurely along a rough wagon track
that ran through the sandy waste. The
thin wisps of burned grass that covered
the face of the land were more deso-
late than the bare earth itself. The
desert reached as far as could be seen
aon every side. The sun blazed in the
cloudless sky.
Winton tramped on, turning over ii
Lids weno abl that Ned Burns had tos
hin iis coming had certainly bee
providential. Decubtless De Witt ana
avis, beneving that they would never
their scheme. The Big Malopo wus to
te wound up and reconstructed, prob-
ably a trifling sum would be sent tv
Archie, and Judge Davis would be tne
raler of the diamond fields.
He meant to stop that game. But
the thought of Sheila kept intruding
into the situation, and of Seaton, under
1.0 Witt’s thumb. Winton cast him-
self down upon the desert and wrestled
with his problems for hours, arising
at length, still perplexed, but some-
how assured that everything woud
turn out well.
The sun was low in the west, and
the cool of the afternoon wus refresh-
ing as he made his way back toward
Malopo. He crossed the fields, passed
through the new suburb, and found
himself among the street crowds azain.
A few minutes later he was ascending
the steps that led up to the stoep of
the Continental, where a group was
still discussing the absorbing topic of
the robbery.
Winton, lingering among the men for
a few moments, drew the conclusion
that no progress had been made so far
in the solution of the mystery.
He might have waited, but as he
stood there he saw a little man with
a heavy mustache standing a little
way beyond the throng and regarding
him attentively. Winton did not like
the little man’s face, and he suddenly
remembered Ned's injunctions. He
knew that if he remained the little
man would accost him.
He was turning away when the sup-
per bell began to ring in the hall.
One or two men got up, and Wirn:on
went with them toward the room where
the meal was served. He saw three or
four waitresses, whose appearance did
‘not harmonize with their occupation,
; standing behind the chairs, and noted
the intimate smiles that passed be-
tween them and the men who entered.
| Then he perceived behind the door, at
the cashier's deck—Sheila.
(To be continued).
—————— A ————————
—Get your job work done here,
"1
my |
“And Ahira, the son of Enan?”’ asked
It was evident that the watchman’
be troubled by him, had felt secure iu |
Christmas March Was
Played by Minister
IHE minister had hung up his
stocking, too. The sprites
that put into it a candy cane,
a lollipop, a ball, an apple and
a motor car that would go, had
added a mouth organ. most appropri-
ate and perhaps most needed of all
gifts, for what other mouth should
so dispense harmony?
Then, after breakfast, came the pro-
cession into the parlor and unto the
wonderful tree. Kirst, little Sarah,
with the early and aided steps of her
one year and the big eyes of her first
Christmas tree. Then demure Helen,
blowing her own horn for once, then
big Sarah and all the uncles, aunts
and cousins, then father and mother,
and then the minister, playing his new
march upon his new organ,
When ' they were all seated in the
happy circle they asked for the words
of that new tune and here they are:
| If birds could sing in Christmas trees,
i Jf they could hum with happy bees,
{ If they were sweet with all the spice
| Of all things beautiful and nice,
{ They could not altogether be
More full of love than this, our tree.
Chorus.-——March, march to the Christ-
mas tree,
It has a loving gift for thee.
Then they all sang it, after which
the beautiful tree yielded its fruit.
—Christopher G. Hazard.
©). 1923, Western Newspaper Union.)
Christmas Telegrams
E WAS always busy,
rushing, always hurrying.
always
He
attend to and so many people
were constantly pressing it
upon his time with this demand, with
that, which required attention.
He wished he could see more of his
friends. His frieds wished they could
see more of him. He was the sort they
would like to see more of and at
times they were a little annoyed that
he was so busy.
He was busier than was really
normal. They said he had no time for
the pleasant things of life and that
nor could he be enjoyed because he
was always having so much to do.
But he took time for one thing. He
never failed to take time for it.
Every Christmas he sent all his
friends beautiful Christmas telegrams
of cheer. He thought of them and
. he remembered them and every Christ:
! mas morning as his friends opened
| their gay
| would say:
“He always finds time to think of
me on Christmas morning, anway!
What a pleasure this is!”—Mary Gra-
ham Bonner.
(©, 1923, Western Newspaper Union.)
SY bn mn ms mn
PRESS REESSEETEEETTSE — re
J
! REAL SPIRIT i
| - F THE real spirit of Christ- Pi)
mas is within us we will, “
A indeed, find that it is more |,
) blessed to give than to receive,
and we will give out of the full-
ness of our hearts and because
) of the joy that giving brings us,
instead of from any other mo-
) tive. So to get the real joy of
giving and to receive the rich-
ness of the Christmas spirit in
jy fullest measure, give because
your heart prompts you to and
) forget all else.—Katherine Edel-
y man.
(©, 1923, Western Newspaper Union.)
f
it
i
i
/
il
il
mag)
ew ve
28. mt
- t=
C2
“It Is More Blessed to
Give Than Receive”
nothing to do
HIS has with
mas time than any other time
of the year. Yes, saved. That
may sound absurd to a lot of people
who have spent all their money buying
presents for their families and friends
and neighbors, but it is true just the
same. How? Why, because giving
is the finest sort of saving, and not
only saving, but investing. Every good
gift is a permanent gain to the giver;
it is better than a bank book carrying
the same amount, for a gift is more
a bank ledger. If you want to save
your money, give it away—wisely.
Does that sound unreasonable? Re-
than receive.—F. H. Sweet.
(©. 1923, Western Newspaper Union.)
Ee a alam
AUNT MEHITABLE’S PRESENT
ps.
Aunt Mehitable had a powerful and
awake.
culties by imagining them and making
them oui. “Hiram,” said she,
can’t think what has got into George;
I didn’t like thé way he looked at us
this morning.”
“Probably he was thinking of some-
body else,” answered her brother,
“George,” began his aunt the next
day, “what was the matter with you
yesterday morning, you looked sourer
'n pickles.”
“Nothin’ was the matter with me,”
«ald the boy, “T was puzzlin’ over your |
t'iristmas present.” Then he added,
guess I'll give it up.” But remember-
ing her goodness of heart, George re- !
| lented, and, when the day that shines
away all unpleasantiess came round,
| Annt Mehitihle had a new nightcap!
i —C. Gv Hazard,
(©, 19238, Western Newspaper Union.)
Add Yuletide Cheer
always had so many things to
he could neither enjoy things himself
Christmas telegrams they
8 Pm 3 Ho Po eng 0
banks or savings accounts; but |
more money is saved st Christ- |
truly a saving than credit account on !
member, it is more blessed to give
active imagination that often kept her
She was ever creating diffi- |
things croclked by trying to straighten
Sf >
“Since you're so mighty suspicious, I !
SR,
RS. LARKIN is a little old lady
who lives in a red house just
rine Way to Keep a
over the hill. The children
troop by her door-yard every
Face Looking Happy
day on their way to school.
They always look up at her windows,
for Mrs. Larkin is sure to be at one
of them, nodding and smiling in the
pleasantest fashion. $
Mrs. Larkin has cookies in jars and
Mrs. Larkin can knit red mittens
faster than anybody else in town. Both
cookies and mittens find their way to
the mouths and hands of haif the
children in the village.
At Christmas time, the little old
lady is busier than ever. But the
nicest thing about her is the expres-
sion on her face. To say it shines,
does not half describe the brightness
of it. One day Tilly Tinker said to
her:
“What makes your face
candle, Mrs. Larkin?”
“Bless you, Tilly!” laughed the lit-
tle old lady, “What do you mean?”
Tilly had diffieulty in explaining, but
she finally succeeded in making Mrs.
, Larkin understand what she meant by
‘comparing her face to a candle,
{ “Tl tell you a secret,” said the lit-
tle old tady in a whisper: “At Christ-
mas time I always pretend I'm look-
ing at a Christmas tree! A tree with
|a thousand candles, everyone lighted!
So perhaps some of them are reflected
on my ixce. It's a fine way to keep
la face ooking happy. Just try it
yourself
Perhaps Mrs. Larkin found the best
i recipe tor happiness—she filled her
hands with good works and her mind
with the brightness of lighted candles.
—Martha B. Thomas.
(©. 1923, Western Newspaper Union.)
like a
Christmas, the Snow
and the Sleigh Ride
T WAS Christmas night. The
moon was shining and the
snow sparkled like diamonds
more rare and wonderful than
are ever seen in a jewelry shop.
| The bells jingled, the frosty air
seemed to say in its cool, cheery way:
“I'm here, I brush against your
faces so you can feel me and my cold,
bracing ways.”
And the sleigh went merrily along.
| Inside the sleigh were a man and a
girl, And they were saying things
which may not sound new to you,
“There is nothing in the world like
love,” was one of the things they
said.
“And to be in love, and sleigh-rid-
ing on Christmas night after a perfect
Christinas day—there is nothing in the
world like it.”
But it was as beautifui to them as
though no one else had ever said these
things. For beauty is not dependent
upon novelty. It depends on some-
thing far deeper and truer. *®
There is nothing new about love,
There is nothing new about Christ:
mas.
But that doesn’t make eitlier of
them any less wonderful l—Mary Gra-
ham Bonner.
(©. 193, Western Newspaper Union.)
01 pres ZAP Po fA ct 00
Beat Beauty Parlor
for Christmas Time
O
faces?
Have you ever thought about that?
|
IX BUY wreathes for the window,
tinsel for the Christmas tree,
holly for packages and flowers
for the table, but what about
giving some attention to our
Dress your face up in a smile,
| Wear it late and early,
i It puts the sunshine in your eyes,
! And makes your hair look curly!
There is an undeniable magic in
happiness—it beautifies!
Happiness makes holiday in the
heart. and the face reflects it.
Better than a thousand candles is
the light of cheer.
| %J-0-Y” is the sign that hangs over
the best beauty parlor, and it serves
| men as well as women. If you would
; become handsome, become joyous first.
i And joy comes from living and giv-
Ing with kindliness and good-will !—
Martha B. Thomas.
(©, 1923, Western Newspaper union.)
QBs (ro eg 0
: BOTH DISAPPOINTED
under
He—1 expected you'd stand
the mistletoe when I called.
She—And 1 expected you'd huve an
armful of Christmas presents.
ERASTUS’ CHRISTMAS TREE
“Where's yo’ gwine?” was the ques-
yo' g q
tion, as Erastus passed by with a
| good-sized Christmas tree. “I's been
| where I's gwine,” wus the rather
{ enigmatical answer. G. Hazavd.
i (®, 1928, Western Newspaner nian.)