} v* I
I Promise Kept fj
z?
f>4l II .
|| By GENEVIEVE ULMAR |!j
(Copyright, 1919, by the Western News
paper Union.)
It was a district where law and or
der prevailed only where the commu
nity centers showed numerical
strength. Outlawry was the rule where
reckless groups banded together along
the ranges, and family and tribal
feuds ran through two, and even three
generations.
It was at ACton trtat Retfben Lane
and his daughter Elsie lived. She was
the belle of the county, in the full
bloom of lovely maidenhood. Mr.
Lane was In his little one-story office
one evening when a rough looking
man mounted on horseback dashed up
to the place, entered it, there was a j
shot, the visitor came out swiftly,
leaped to the saddle, and was off in a
flash. ,
"It's a murder!" announced the first
man summoned by the echo of the
report, as he found Reuben Lane lying
lifeless beside his desk.
"And robbery!" added another.
The dreadful news utterly crushed
Elsie. It was only after the funeral
that she regained composure and forti
tude. Over that sunny face came a
cloud, into the depths of her eyes a
purpose. She was almost stern as
she said:
" 'An eye for an eye, a tooth for a
tooth,' that was ingrained with my
dead father. I know what he would
have me do. I will divide my fortune
and marry the man who will bring to
justice' the cowardly assassin."
That day these appeared at the of
fice of Lawyer Barton, the fifxecutor of i
the estate, a man who was consider
able of a mystery in the section. He
was known as Alvin Morse, and had
come to Acton about a year previous.
He grew a long beard that covered up
all of his face except the bright, mag
netic eyes. He made his living by
hunting and acting us a guide to pros
pectors and speculators looking for
iron and coal prospects. Rough look
ing, uncouth, he entered the lawyer's
office with the bearing of .a natural
athlete and man of courage.
"I just heard of the killing, of Mr.
Lflne," he said. "I understand that
so far no trace of the murderer has
been reported. I saw the sheriff. He
gave me two clews; the revolver drop
ped by the assassin, and a description
of his horse. I have seen both be
fore. I know the man and I am going
after him."
There was a rustle, and for the first
time the visitor noted a veiled figure
seated back in the shadow. His coon
skin cap was instantly doffed.
"You know the reward," spoke the
lawyer. "Miss Lane here will divide
her fortuue with the man who brings
her father's murderer to justice and
will become his wife, if he so elects."
"I shall ask no reward," returned Al
vin Morse in clear, resonant tones.
"Any real man would be glad to be
of service to a woman in distress. Mr.
Lane was an honor to the town and
his death should be avenged."
"We have met before," spoke Elsie.
"It was you who seized me to swing
with me from the river trestle just in
time to save me from ah onrushing
train."
"And get my own imperiled self out
of danger as well," lightly remarked
Morse, but his heart was aquiver as
he recalled that dreadful, yet delicious
moment when, clasping her dainty
form, he swung a hundred feet over
a yawning abyss.
Then two weeks passed by and one
day a forlorn travel-worn figure in
deed entered the office of the lawyer.
"The murderer is in the town jail,"
announced Morse quietly, "but dying. !
He drew his revolver on me; it caught
in his coat, but I have what I prom
ised —I got your man."
"I must send for Miss Lane at once,"
spoke Mr. Barton. "The reward—"
Morse held up a silencing} hand.
"Let all that be forgotten," lie said.
"The money I would not take. As to
the girl herself," and his voice lowered
to tenderness and longing, "I am not
of her grade. lam a fugitive from jus
tice charged with robbing a bank up
North, of which I was a cashier. It
was some burglar, but I was accused
unjustly and fled, a broken man, to
hide in this wilderness."
It was a new Alvin Morse who star
tied the lawyer and Elsie Lane the ,
next morning as they sat in consulta
tion. He was arrayed in new attire,
the thick beard was gone, youth, vi
vacity, intelligence, hope showed in
every feature of that handsome face,
and Elsie regarded him with height- i
ened color.
"I have a strange story to tell," nar
rated Morse. "I felt a pity for the
prisoner, on account of his destitute
wife and child, and I promised to see
that they were provided for. Then, as j
he told of his many past criminal
deeds, he chanced to confess the bur- ;
glary of the bank where I was em- j
ployed. He made a written confession,
completely clearing me of guilt. lam
a free man at last!"
"A Lane never went back on a
pledge sacredly given," spoke Elsie. "I
will keep my promise, Mr. Barton.
We will divide my father's estate
evenly."
"I shall never accept it!" declared
Morse with finality.
"Then—then—the further pledge—"
"Let time tell!" spoke the lawyer,
seeking to relieve the pending embar
rassment of the moment and spare the
blushes of Elsie and the delicacy of |
feeling of the young man—and it did!
! I \ <t v
ill We IS
< "/ 4
jil Famished Soul fji
jj| I:;
ill By EVELYN LEE ;
(Copyright, 1913 by the Western News
paper Union.)
It might have been wicked that
Madge Griscom experienced a sense
of relief when the funeral of her hus- I
band was over. She had never loved
him and he knew it, and she could
not regret the sense of freedom that
had come to her. To the last hour of
his life she had been kind, attentive
and considerate towards him. She
had fulfilled every wifely duty, she
had even given over to him the means
to finance him in business. It was j
true that she had now inherited the j
same, many times augmented, but she 1
had worked side by-side with him at a
desk, and the first thing she had done i
in taking over his estate was to place
a charge against it that would insure j
a competence for his aged parents.
"And now you can follow out your
own ideas and enjoy life," reminded j
her sister, but Madge's lips were set !
! smilelessly.
"No. Edna,'' she responded. "The
best years of my life are gone. I feel j
as though my heart was dead. There
j Is a certain interest that is not un
pleasant in business and I shall con
; tinue."
"To keep from thinking, poor
thing!" Edna later imparted to a spe
cial' "You know Madge has
led a positive slavery for ten
years. I don't know how it was that
papa took a strange liking to Mr. Gris
j com —nothing would do but Madge
I must marry him. He chilled her,
| froze Jill that was tender and> gentle
' in her nature. He tied her down to a
desk —oh. it was dreadful!"
Madge became a boarder at the
; home of Edna. The latter, after half
| a dozen years of marriage, was just
as much a girl as ever, but somehow
Maflge was not in harmony. She felt
' and acted old.
Across the corridor from the office
suite was a room fronting on a court,
and more than once Madge had no
ticed its occupant, a delicate looking
young man with refined features and
a gentle gravity of manner that
seemed akin to sadness. Somehow
she was attracted, and If she had
closely analyzed her impression she
would have found that something in
the quiet, resigned manner of the
young man had suggested itself as
akin to her own somber frame of
mind. One day there came the lm :
pulse to learn something closer con
cerning her opposite neighbor and op
portunity abetted it. The postman
had misdelivered a letter addressed to
Mr. Paul Derby, and that was the
name on the door of the office. Mrs.
Griscom took the letter across the j
hall. It was a bare, dismal place,
looking out upon a court, and the j
heat was oppressive on account of
such scant direct ventilation. The
young man was bent over some manu
script which he seemed to be studying j
closely and transcribing. Later Mrs. '
Griscom learned that he was a trans- j
later and a master of several lan- i
guages.
He arose somewhat confused, but
the courteous gentleman complete,
and accepted with thanks the letter
tendered by his attractive looking vis- j
itor, who could be most gracious and
smiling when occasion or her mood ;
j accorded. She could not very well re- |
mam, but she observed, less casually i
than it seemed on the surface.
"It must be very warm and oppres
sive here when the breeze is not right,
Mr. Derby," and then: "One of our
offices is directly opposite, and if its
door was kept open, you would have
a direct draft through to the court,"
and the pleased expression in the
young man's face encouraged his
thoughtful visitor to the extent that (
when she returned to her own office
and opened the door, the effect of the
current of air was noticeable in the
; fluttering of the papers on the desk
of the translator, and he sat more
erect and comfortable as though en
joying the change in the temperature.
As time went on Madge, as she
passed down the corridor daily, would
nod in a friendly way to Derby and
he seemed to brighten up because of
the attention. Then one day there
was a change of wind and a sheet of
paper came fluttering across the hall
and into the private office where Mrs.
Griscom sat. It was a brief letter, di
rected to Derby, and it notified him
that the manuscript of an unpublished
work by Spain's most noted writer
could be had of a priest for two thou
i sand dollars cash and a like amount
on time. At the bottom of the sheet
was a penciled reply: "I am in despair.
It would be impossible for me t3 raise
one-teijth of the amount named, so I
: must allow this great opportunity of
j my life to drift by."
Madge was grave and thoughtful as
she took the letter and crossed the
; corridor.
"Mr. Derby," she said clearly, "I am
a business woman and inadvertently I
have read this letter. It seems to in
volve some cherished undertaking you j
cannot" encompass because of lack of j
capital. Will you allow me to finance
| you and share your risk and profits?"
What could come of it all but suc
cess for Paul Derby, strengthened by
the sympathy and co-operation of a
true woman? What could come to i
Madge Griscom, after all the sordid |
years, but an awakening heart longing, !
and so there was for that famished :
1 soul the glory of the later real love of [
her life.
NIGHT AND DAY CAMP
IS LIFE SAVING STATION
i
i
Tuberculosis kills 150,000 persons in the United States every year.
These two women escaped. They are shown in the Night and Day Camp
I conducted by the St. Louis Society for the Relief and Prevention of Tuber
culosis. They are among the fortunate ones because they knew how to take
care of themselves when this great menace threatened them. They knew
that the cure lies in plenty of fresh air, even if the temperature is away below
freezing, sunlight, good food and rest under proper medical supervision.
Tuberculosis is not only curable but is preventable as well.
The prevention lies largely in right living, in building up a strong bodily
1 resistance. Eight out of ten persons are infected at some time in their lives,
according to figures of the National Tuberculosis Association, the leading
agency in the United States in the tight upon this disease. This organization
; is sponsor for the annual Red Cross Christmas Seal sale, from which the'
i funds to carry on the work throughout the year are chiefly derived.
RURALITES HAVE BIG^
Abundance of Fresh Air and
Sunlight Do Much to Check
Ravages of Tuberculosis.
DANGER IN CLOSED WINDOWS.
National Tuberculosis Association,
Which Sponsors the Annual Sale
'of Red Cross Christmas Seals,
Reports 150,000 Deaths
Each Year From the
Disease.
People who live in the smaller towns
and on farms have "a great health ad
vantage over the city dwellers in that
they have ever an abundant supply of
fresh air and sunlight.
These two gifts of nature, so lavish
ly bestowed, are not always appreciat
ed to their fullest extent. They are
two of the strongest weapons against
the menace of tuberculosis, or con
sumption, as it is sometimes called.
But consumption is not unknown in
the rural districts. The death rate is
sometimes as great in these sections as
in the more crowded localities, chiefly
because of carelessness or indifference
to laws of health.
Few, indeed, are the farm houses
or tfie homes in the smaller cities and
villages that cannot have an outdoor
sleeping porch. On-the contrary, ve
often find that the windows of sleep
ing rooms in the home are shut tight
in the mistaken belief that night air
is harmful.
This paves the way for disease, espe
cially tuberculosis, which generally at
tacks the lungs.
White Plague Kills 150,000 a Year.
The white plague claimed 150,000,
lives last year in 'the United States.
More than 1,000,000 Americans are suf
fering from it today. These figures
are compiled from reports of experts
all over the country and sent to the
National Tuberculosis Association, the
leading agency in the country to com
bat this disease. This organization is
sponsor for the Red Cross Christmas
Seal sale, from which its financial sup
pert is chiefly derived.
As medical science has proved con
sumption is both preventable and cura
ble, the suffering caused by this dis
ease is largely unnecessary. Most tu
berculosis victims are between the
ages of eighteen and forty-five.
Causes Half Bilfion Loss Annually.
These are the years when people
are most active, the years of their
greatest production. The snuffing out
of these lives just when they are at
the height of their usefulness means
an annual loss to the country of near
ly half a billion dollars.
Fresh air is the cheapest of medi
cines. Outdoor sleeping porches are
not orly for the sick. They help well
foiks to keep and the country
dweller can have this aid to healthy
living at far less inconvenience than
his city neighbor. «
You can help directly by seeing that
•you and your family are living under
the most healthful conditions possible.
#» •» 8» 5* *, * I?, 3? #» S» •» KKItH *
0» »,
t( FACTS ON THE ARCH *
I? ENEMY OF HUMANITY. *
8* *
8? Tuberculosis kills i»roducers —
chiefly men and women between I?
J? the ages of 16 and 45. •?.
» It claims workers —active men K
•?- and women in the homes, the of-
Jfc fice and the shop. I?
It causes 150,000 deaths in the
United States every year. I?
It costs the United States in •?
It economic waste alone about H
*, $500,000,000 annually. ft
* More than 1,000,000 persons in H
It this country are suffering from It
active tuberculosis right now. I?
fc? It menaces every community, *,
H every home and every individ- I?,
i? ual. i
It AND YET TUBERCULOSIS
St IS CURABLE AND PREVENT- #t
at ABLE. It
It It is 'spread largely by ig- It
•? norance, carelessness and neg- *5
It lect. It
•t The National Tuberculosis As- It
It sociation and its 1,000 affiliated It
It state and local organizations It
It wage a continuous winning war It
•t on tuberculosis.
It The work of these organiza- It
It tions is financed chiefly by the It
It sale of Red Cross Christinas It
seals. it
•t Drive the menace of tubercu- It
•t losis from your door. It
It It
itfei*atttit»titititititit»tit«t»t
FIGHTING TUBERCULOSIS.
The National Tuberculosis Associa
tion has launched an extensive educa
tional campaign. A recent health sur
vey revealed a yearly death rate in the
United States of 150,000 and there are
today 1,000,000 active cases.
THE SYMBOL OF HOPE.
i
t
«% wSt
This is the emblem of the National
Tuberculosis Association which an
nually sponsors the sale of the Red
Cross Christmas Seals.
I EXTRAVAGANT
By ANNA L. FINN.
"Bob is always talking about the
delicious pies and cakes his mother
makes," Jean Winston confided to her
mother,'at the same time giving an
admiring glance at the beautiful soli
taire which adorued her third finger.
"You see," she continued, "he wants
me to know that I will have to be
quite proficient in the culinary art to
compete with her."
Mrs. Winston smiled at her daugh
ter's simplicity. "Well, why don't you
show him what you can do, Jean?"
; she replied. "He doesn't know that
I you have been taking a course in do
' mestic science and are already quite
proficient. Why not surprise him?"
"That's a perfectly splendid idea,
mumsie," Jean exclaimed. "Bob Is
coming to dinner tonight and I'll make
the most elaborate cake imaginable.
It will surely rival anything which
! Mrs. Rogers ever made."
! So donning the largest apron avail
i able, Jean set about her task. True
to her desire, the cake was indeed an
elaborate affair, for every known in
gredient necessary to the making of a
! perfect cake was used by Jean.
"There," she exclaimed, as she admir
: ingly put the finishing touches to the
dainty pink and white frosting, "if
that doesn't beat Bob's mother's cakes
i than I'm greatly mistaken." She was
quite beside herself, for the cake was
a grand success and one of which any
girl might well be proud. She could
| picture Bob munching a piece of the
toothsome dainty. "Won't he be sur
i prised and delighted," she thought. So
the cake was put away for safe keep
ing and Jean proceeded to busy her
self about the house.
The day passed very quickly and,
glancing at the clock, she realized that
| she had just about an hour in which
i to dress for dinner. Donning her fa
vorite blue frock, she was about to
proceed down stairs when suddenly
she became aware of the fact that
something was missing. "Oil, my ring!
i Where could I have put it?" she ex
claimed. After a very careful search
.1 of her favorite hiding places she failed
to find any trace of the lost treasure.
Soon she had the whole household
transformed into a searching party,
! but all without avail. The ring could
! not be foifnd.
"Oh. what shall I do?" bemoaned
; Je an. "I can never tell Bob 1 have
; lost it; he would think it so careless
of me. I'm sure I had it this morn
j ing," she continued. "But in my fool
ish pride and excitement over that
| horrid cake I lost it. I just hate the
| old cake now!"
All, of course, were in sympathy
with her; but when one has lost her
! treasured engagement ring it is hard
i to be consoled.
In due course of time Bob arrived,
and to all outward appearances Jean
| was immensely happy. "What if he
should miss It from my finger," she
soliloquized. The thought caused her
j some concern, but she quietly dis-
I missed it, hoping against hope that
! such a thing would not come to pass.
The dinner progressed very favor
j ably, and finally the cake was brought
; forth. Bob was greatly impressed
I with its tempting appearance, and
■ Jean promptly explained that she had
i made it especially for him and ex-
I pressed the hope that he would like it.
| He was, of course, anxious to sample
j Jean's cooking and a very generous
! portion was served him.
Jean was quite elated, and was
i waiting anxiously for the words of
praise which she knew she was sure
to receive. Great was her surprise,
i however, as she glanced up at Bob
: to see a distressed look on his face,
i "Why, what's the trouble? Is there
anything the matter with the cake?"
) Jean anxiously inquired. All eyes
j were immediately on Bob.
"Oh, no, not at all," he assured her.
I "Only I struck something rather hard."
and presently he drew forth a portion
of the cake in which was imbedded
nothing less than Jean's cherished
ring. Poor Bob; he looked both mys
i tified and embarrassed. But Jean at
, once cleared up the situation. "Oh,
! my precious ring!" she rapturously
exclaimed. "Why, how did it ever get
I into that cake?" Instantly she re
< membered'removing it from her fincer
before commencing to bake the
cake, and concluded that in some mys
terious way it must have dropped into
the mixture.
Great mirth followed and Jean joined
the merriment, as she realized her ter
rible blunder, despite her efforts to dis
play her talents in the aIl-import#nt
line.
"But it wasn't such a bad cake after
all, was it, Bob?" she fondly inquired,
after the merriment had subsided.
"Well, I should say not," he replied;
"It was a perfect jewel of a cake, but,"
he continued, "I'm afraid you will have
to find a more economical recipe be
fore we are married, because my sal
ary would never warrant diamond
flavored cakes."
(Copyright, 1919. by the McClure News
paper Syndicate.)
Worm Turns.
"Doctor, I don't quite understand
this bill you sent me."
"Well?"
"You have one item here, 'Profes
sional services, ss.' That's clear
enough. But what's this other charge,
"Reading matter, 35 cents?' Is that a
war tax?"
"No. That's to repay me for the
magazine you carried off when you left
my office."—Birmingham Age-Herald.
! DR. TOVO INOUYE
Dr. Tomo Inouye of Ja\>an in native
costume, one of the few, Japanese
women who have succeeded in gaining
licenses as physicians. She is in New
York attending a convention of women
physicians from all over the world.
s In Fast America.
In France the centerflelder is known
us "1c ctynpeur de centre," a home
run as "une course sans arret and
the home plate as "le plaque debut
final." If we had such names here
how quickly they would be cut down
by the fans and writers. Even a player
with three syllables in his mime gen
erally has to get along with one.—
Portland (Ore.) Press.
His Provocation.
"Slick proposed to Chamlan last
i night,* whispered Helolse of the rapid
tire restaurant. "He said lie couldn't
live without her."
"Uh-huli!" returned Claudine of the
same establishment. "I heard his
mother had mairted again and
wouldn't support him any longer."—
Kansas City Star.
Ring Fingers.
The third finger of the left hand
is "the" ring finger; that is the en
gagement ring is worn there, and the
wedding ring. Rings may also be worn
on the little fingers of each hand.
RESTORING U. S. PAINTINGS
Charles Ayer Whipple, noted artist,
at work restoring the paintings In the
capitol at Washington. Mr. Whipple
was commissioned and started his
work last winter. After a brief vaca
tion he has resumed his task.
United States Seal 136 Years Old.
The great seal of the United State®
was adopted by congress 136 years ago.'
The design was suggested by Sir John
Prestwlch, an eminent English anti
quary, to John Adams, then United
States minister to Great Britain, and
was formally accepted by congress on,
June 20, 1782. It is composed of a
spread eagle, bearing on its breast an
escutcheon with 13 stripes, and in its
talons holding an olive branch and 1&
arrows, symbolic of both peace and
war. The eagle, the suggestion of an
Englishman, has ever since been the
national bird of the United States.
Not a Common Poultice.
Jim had a very sore stone bruise
on his heel and he was telling Redi
"My mother," he said, "put a bread
and milk poultice on it last night."
Red was always looking for a chance
to go his pal one better. The bread
and milk poultice gave him an Idea.
"Last summer when 1 had a stone
bruise," he said, "I did not let them
use anything so cooi'aon as bread and
milk. Mother made my poultice out
of Ice cream and cafce."