THE PATTON COURIER The Colfax BooKplate CHAPTER I -— Darrow’s Is Different Had it not been for those tidy little | yellow notes cut thriftily eight to a sheet of copy-paper and distributed free on Saturday to the staff at Dar row’s New and Second-Hand Book- shop, we should never have begun Monday morning in the state of ten sion which was so approprite a cow: mencement for that portentous day, nor should we have ended the whole affair of the Colfax bookplate in such a blaze ot glory. Burt Mr. Roberts. our canny statistical Caledonian manager had noted that on each morning ot the preceding week an average of nine menibers of the staff had punched the time-clock between five and sixteen minutes past nine, and he had conclud ed that the reason could not always have been the “Difference in Clocks,” the “Subway Block,” or the “Alarm That Never Went Off at All”—impor- tani features as these all are of mod ern commercial civilization. Conse: quently, at noon on Saturday he had broadcast a general storm-warning in the language of diplomacy, or, to be more plain-spoken, on yellow notes en closed in our pay-envelopes,. I tran- scribe my copy : (Typewritten) “Miss (Constance, Fuller: “Nine o'clock. Monday. please! “Thomas Alexander Roberts.” 1 believe ‘that every morning when 1 enter the silent shop I must uncon- scinusly hreathe a praver of thanks- , giving: that, although life is by no means always May, at least | belong in Darrow's. 1 starred selling books before it got to be a “New Career for Women,” with courses on how to do it. and then obtained, through the college ewployment bureau, a position in Dar- row’s... A bright young woman was wanted, “to assist.” And at what. pray, could ene assist in a bookshop except. at selling books? At least, so 1 reasoned. The idea of doing so struck me with great force, though ft struck me alone, On bearing that Dar row’s had hired me, ‘my mother ex- claimed: “Dear child, I'm so happy for you! | always wanted to work in a store; but bad | breathed the fact at your age, I'd have been put out ip the snow; a la *'Way Down Euast’'” My brother said: “How much are you go- ing to get? Sirike for a raise.” And my dear father. on learning that | de clined to hang around his neck like a beautiful womanly millstone. was noblest otf all, for he merely remarked “Well,. Darrow’'s Is different.’ It is, indeed. None but that over worked adjective describes it. There are many bookshops, but there is no other quite like Darrow’s. It is an oasis in the desert of a rushing, pro sai¢ business neighborhood, unaffect edly picturesque. Sixty years ago, the building was a vast, comfortable cor ner dwelling, with a stable, doubtless full of fat horses, down the side street. Now that stable is the shipping room ; and where the ground-floor dining room used hospitably to receive a dozen guests an evening in addition to the 1860-size family, Darrow 's hook: shop today receives its customers. The shop also extends over the site of the old kitchen. pantry. and store rooms and the upper reaches of its lofty walls inclose the old-time first-story parlor. Every new customer eoming in. pas my desk beside the front door gasps at the noble spread of the book-shelves from floor ‘to ceiling on the long north and south walls, with a gallery run ving around: them at half their height He will find fiction on the tables. standard works on the wulls, classified subject-collections in the alcoves. He muy view at leisure’ the tine collec tions ot old prints and engravings which ornament the gallery railings. and in which we do a considerable business. And he will certainly ad mire his own reflection in the bright brass cage of our little elevator at the rear of the central aisle, which it is the chief joy of Ulysses S G. Jackson our elderly colored janitor, to polish if necessary, to the neglect of his oth er duties. It was with Ulysses, as usual, that I exchanged my first greeting on arriv ing at the bookshop that famous Mon day. For thirty years Darrow's and every individual and circumstance con: nected with it had constituted Ulysses’ life. His chief passion, besides hrass polishing, was that thrilling daily waguzine entitled “Daily Snapshots, which, as everybody knows. consists of three-quarters pictures and one quarter 14-point type, and whien fea tures with double spreads such im: portant news items as “Right Arm of Statesman’s Divorced Wife Found in Well.” He now folded ap his’ last dust-cloth and approached me solemn ly, drawing a copy of this journal from beneath -his sweater. “You've. heen out early for the pa per. Ulysses.” “Yas'm. Does you want to see it? “Yes, what's the news this morn ing?” For twenty-four hours the coun- try must have been Inconveniently free from crimes of extraordinary vio lence; the editors of “Snapshots” had been reduced to using for 8 front-page sensation scientific observations ot latest visiting foreign headliner. avhich were summed up in the caption: “Psychic Expert Delineates Next World.” *Cain’t be no worsen this one.” re marked Ulysses. “What's the matter, Ulysses? Have you got rheumatism?” ’ “No'm, I ain't got no rheumatism, | ; By AGNES MILLER WNU Service @ by The Century Co, got a message. Somep’n bad's go'n happen.” “Pshaw, Ulysses! something bad’s giways going to happen.” “No'm, you're hiding from yourselt Miss Fuller; somepn't bad's gon’ hap pen. I knows it.” “What bad thinz do you think’s go ing to happen?” Ulysses debated silently, his mouth curved Into a crescent, posts down I'he contemplation o: some concrete catastrophe seemed to cheer him. Finally he murmured simply: “l dunno. Maybe Mist’ Darrow’s go'n’ lose some money.” I was much tickled by the tancy. It Mr. Darrow did lose some 1oney, it would be powerful bad luck for every body in the bouse, since, to tell the painful truth, Mr. Darrow was not a remarkably good loser of anything, particularly money. “Oh, 1 nope not!” | sighed. “Yas'm, that's right; 1 does, too,” agreed Ulysses, neartily. His poise quite restored, he picked ap the “Pictorial” and moved off to polish the alcove bookcases. It was a pleasant side of my work that my own special hobby became a knowledge of hookplates. \Vhenever « could discover and identify a new “lI Dunno. Maybe Mist’ Darrow’s Go'n’ Lose Some Money.” one, and seil it to some one who liked it, I was more, than happy. But cer tainly there could never have been an apparently more unlikely morning tlan thar of our famous Monday for bringing to light a real treasure among bookplates. Nothing was in my mind except my very important indexing job as | set shout assembling my catalogue cards, just as the van guard of punctual arrivals began to pour in. Heading the procession came Mr Roberts, tall, gaunt, keen-eyed. One by one they raced past me with the typical Monday business “Good morn ing"—smile, grouch, resignation. Then a loud click sounded. as one by one they punched the time-clock just in side the shipping-1oom door in the rear hall, to the right of the elevator shaft. Miss Wilkes, our “dean of women,” ner new wistaria velvel fall hat perched like an imperial Russian cor- onet on her stiffly waved gray hair, showed all her teeth and addressed me as “Dear.” | noted with interest that contrary to her custom—for in her exalted position she mingled not with the herd, and well-known social ambitions made her quite inaccessible —she was escorting a lanky and silent but astonishingly oretty young stran ger, who had the i1argest head of soft wavy chestnut bobbed hair and the thickest war-paint | had ever heheld in a long and tolerant experience, While awaiting the elevator, Miss »X Xp X XoXo The average man is at least sixteen before he starts serious work and even then there are not many of us who do more than eight hours a day. The average man's working life is about thirty years, so the person who works eight hours out of each four- teen for thirty years has done ten years’ work in his lifetime. This is reckoning that he has worked eight hours a day and reven days a week, which cf course, none of us do. We have to remember the Sat- urday half-holiday and Sunday, which leave only 44 working hours for the week. This means cutting our ten weeks dow.. by roughly two years, so that a life's work is reduced to only eight years! Another deduetion must he made for illness, so out of those eight years Famous Scottish Club The “Bannatype club” was a Scor- tish literary c¢iub named from George Bannatype, founded under the presi dency of Sir Walter Scott in 1823 and dissolved in 1859. It was devoted to the publication of works on Scottish history and literature, SXLXLXFLXLTLXPK TEX Wilkes abandoned her convoy, to greet Mr. Edward Case. the shop manager. Miss Wilkes highly approved of Mr (‘ase. He was a bachelor in the late forties. he lived at a club, he always displayed fine raiment on his tall. well built person. and was altogether to her taste, being deemed the most ‘ashing, if not daredevil figure in our select community He was a member of the group shout whom legends had grown up He was more or less traveled and had polished manners, so he could be con veniently provided with a past in for- eign parts by those determinedly ro mantic; and there were few to con- tradict these dreamers, for Mr. Case was the ranking employee, pext to Ulysses, in length of service, and no- body really knew a great deal about him. I once had suggested that this was probably because there wasn’t a great deal to know, as the poor man wae the only conventional person on the staff. My other colleagues, who arrived briskly in due season, were: Daisy Abbott, outwardly a fair, frail flower, but really pretty hard-shelled © Emily James, plain and thoroughly seawor- thy; and George Henry Dibdin, a nice lad who when in France had got 0 he liked to read, a Red Cross lady in‘a hospital library having unwittingly given him a lead toward a career which he had speedily proceeded to follow when he came back with his helmet. Our select clerical force entered and betook themselves to regions above. Mr. Riggs, the stout head ship ping clerk, dashed in distractedly. “Mr. Roberts come yet?” [I'm short handed; one of my men’s down sick. and the other's still off on his wedding trip—drat him!—and them govern- ment books laying a mile deep in yon- der!” And then arrived Mr. Darrow him- self, for even he came early that morn- ing, as an example. Very short and stout, stiff, bald, and clean-shaven, he moved down the aisle “like an armored tank,” to quote Mr. Dibhdin. bestowing a bow on me, one of the employees he spoke to. Bookselling was Mi. Darrow’s one, his only love. He had not only made his shop different and famous, he had also, years ago, marrieu his sister to an Ashland. In the trade this achieve- ment recalls a master stroke; the Ash- lands have been known in London for generations as rare-book dealers, so that this political marriage gave Mr. Darrow an international business con- nection. He was little seen in his own shop, however, and I fear truth compels the statement that we man- aged without him. To his employees he was known chiefly as a Voice on the telephone. With his arrival, the whole staff was accounted for, with one exception: Peter Burton, our young traveler. He had been expected back from a rather long trip the previous Friday, but had not arrived.” [It was his first important trip; Mr. Darrow had hitherto done most of the rare-book buying himself, though he had been training Peter as future assistant, But a bad cold a fortnight previous had deprived him of his voice for several days, and he had been obliged to dispatch Peter in his stead on an extended tour he had been preparing to take. Nine o'clock pealed through a si- tence unmarred by any click from the time-clock, and all of us in the shop settled down to our respective duties. As | always notice whoever passes my desk. coming in or going out, | noticed that our first visitor that morning, who entered at about half-past nine, was a dignified white bearded old gen- tleman known to some of us, at least, by sight. He moved slowly down the center aisle. and finally entered the last alcove on the right, under the placard “Medical Works.” Not for abcut a quarter ot an hour did the door open again: then a rath- er distinguished-looking young girl In a black fur cape drifted in, but 1 was [SX X HTS eX : XX Average Man Puts in Eight Years of Work work another six months must be taken. In point of fact, the actual loss is a fraction under six months, but, in ound numbers, there is only seven and a half years of work in the ordi- nary person's lifetime. According to Hoyle Even among the elders we see so ittle of the old-fashioned fastidious- less nowadays that we were attracted y an incident on the street last week. Ve saw a white-haired gentleman ap- roach two boys who were playing vith a kitten and join them. Then we saw him extract from his pocket a pair of gloves, return one of them and pull the other carefully over his right hand, This completed, he employed his gloved hand to pat the. kitten and tickle its ribs for a minute or two. He then arose, carefully removed his glove, replaced it in his pocket, bowed to the two boys and strolled on,— New Yorker. Earnings of a Lifetime The average high-school graduate’s lifetime earning capacity is computed at $53,000, suv busy I paid little attention to her. I paid none at all, other than to note his entrance, to the third arrival, a young man. He (asked past me al- most before 1 could look up, and 1 merely noted his somewhat loud at- tire and brief-case, Becoming increasingly busy, 1 did not look up from my desk again until I gradually became conscious that ! some one else had not only entered | the shop but gone far past me. 1 raised my eyes, and saw Peter Burton | strelling toward the elevator, dragging | his suitcase with that air of complete : detachment from the world and the | fullness therecf which belongs only to | Nirvana or the lowest depths of des- j puration, | Without a second glance, 1 new | Peter's case must belong to the sec- | ond category. Mr, Darrow, though not given to admiring things about | o.her people, considered Peter's busi- ness ability promising. 1 had made his acquaintance seven years before, when he was a blue-eyed, curly brown- headed cherub of ‘vast proportions, adorned with a bed-ticking apron and | attached to the shipping office. There he had contrived, through some over- sight with reference to a nail on a packing-case, to tear a barn door in my brand-new skirt one day when I went in with a message. This com- paratively mild disaster apparently determined him to run off and enlist in the navy on the spot, and 1 felt moved to investigate until 1 discov- ered the circumstances which caused such extreme grief. I found them to consist almost en- tirely of a very refined widowed fa- ther with a very ‘medium-sized inde- | pendent income. There was also a small sister with unconventional man- ners. As Peter had a vulgar practical taste for making a living, Mr. Roberts | was persuaded to find him occupation | better suited to an ardent mind than nailing up boxes; and he now prom- | ised to become one of Darrow’s chief sources of revenue. And it was my- self, whom Peter had declared to have been, so far, the greatest influence in his life, whom he completely ignored | that frosty October morning! | All that sustained me under the | blow was the arrival of our elderly | pet college professor, Prof. Royall | Harrington, of a history department | perched up on Manhattan Heights. I welcomed the companionship of this excellent old-fashioned zentleman, who was much attached to Darrow’s, had had an account with us for years, and enjoyed nothing more than spend- ing hours in our society. 1 had sometimes thought that his rather | timid manners had prevented him from making many close friends. Still, he was highly esteemed in | learned circles as a leading scholar | in American history, and 1 had heard | he had cultivated a public presence in amazing contrast to his diffidence in | society. These two assets, combined with a charming voice in which a faint Southern accent occasionally | could be heard, had won him some | reputation as an orator. Of course I was the first person he encountered on entering the shop, and he was full of a tale that morning, 1 had to let the catalogue go, therefore. “I've just had an invitation 1 like so | much!” he beamed. “I'm invited to speak in a little town on the Maine | coast that’s about to celebrate its hun- | dred and fiftieth anniversary. Carroll | Bay’s the name. Many years ago it was my summer playground.” “So they want you to come back and help celebrate?” “Yes, and I'm glad to go now,” said the professor, musingly. “I shouldn't | have cared to much sooner, per- haps—" “No? “You see, my younger brother and I used to spend our vacations there, | usually together—" “Indeed!” “And the poor boy was drowned, over twenty years ago, going to the rescue of some fishermen whose motor got stalled during a storm; he was washed overboard on the return trip. The town put up a cenotaph for him, in the little churchyard. So, after all | these years, as they still seem to re- member us both, I believe it would be | ungracious not to go up and rejoice | with them over their anniversary.” “Such historical commemorations appeal to you, I'm sure,” I observed. “Always. Some call me old-fash- foned for sticking, as 1 do, to the traditions of my ancestors, but | don’t care!” The professor fell tv musing, and then, almost unconsciously, he sud- denly dropped a confidence, as a lone- ly person often will: “Perhaps it was kindest—at least to my brother—that he was taken wher he was. We're not all well suit- ed to bear the blows of life. He was highly romantic, a dreamer; injus- tice or cruelty would have killed him or Professor Harrington's voice died away, considerably to my relief. He sat brooding a moment longer, then came to himself, with almost startling unexpectedness, bounding off the desk. “l must be about my business!” he cried. “1 baven't been interrupting yours, have I? Might I have a wee scrap of paper, to make a few notes? No, no, this will be quite adequate, thank you!” And declining a proffered pad, he leaned over and fished Mr. Rob- erts’ yellow note out of the waste: basket, and at last fluttered smilingly off, (TO BE CONTINUED.) > New “Dark Age’ Looms for the World Unless Spiritual Needs Are Heeded By RABBI A. H. SILVER, Cleveland. ANKIND is beginning to be apprehensive of some of the phases of scientific progress. Again man sees himself pro- pelled by science into a more and more complicated world of invention and machinery for which he is not prepared. Life is being bewildered, speeded up, and man is becoming more and more confused as to his codes, his standards and his values. Man is aware that he is gaining greater mastery over nature. He is not at all sure that he is gaining greater mastery over himself. But mankind cannot stop even if it wishes to. The momentum which science has already acquired will carry it along until such time as its creative energies are used up. Nor is it desirable that it should stop. As long as there are dark continents of knowledge to be explored, as long as there is disease to be conquered, as long as there are forces of nature to be harnessed—why should men halt? Science has been a blessing to mankind except where man has turned it into a curse. It has increased human comfort and competence. It has given millions what hundreds only possessed in the past. It has given the race greater leisure—a requisite for culture, popular education, greater security, the protection and prolongation of life. But science has also increased the possibilities of evil and of destruc- tion. Science has not eradicated hate, lust and covetousness, revolution and war. Science is giving the race machine habits, standards and com- plexes. It may lead us to a new Dark age. The solution is to be found not in the destruction of science, but in a new philosophy, which will welcome all scientific truth but which will co-ordinate them with the spiritual needs of human life. American Colleges Can Survive Only on Their Educational Merits By A. LAWRENCE LOWELL, President Harvard University. On the whole, the American colleges, even those which manage to have a particularly fashionable reputation, will survive or perish now on their educational merits. Fashionable colleges may succeed for a long time in retaining popularity as socially desirable places to send young people, but unless they keep fairly near the scholastic standard set by their rivals they will fall into grave danger. The aim of the American college now must be educational and of a cultural rather than social type. It must be self-sufficient and not de- pendent on another institution for completion, and such a field is the cultural one, using the term in a broad sense of what man is, what he has thought and done, and the laws of nature that surround him. The number of young men seeking an education of this kind will probably never be so large as those who want vocational training by a shorter path, but now that our people have attained material prosperity and comfort there is a growing desire for culture; for life on a more in- tellectual and spiritual plane. The charges of materialism hurled at us from other lands are only true in part. There is also a craving for better things which will wax stronger as the nation becomes more mature. “Bad Boy” Needs Only Proper Guidance, but Tattletale Is Hopeless By REV. DR. PRESTON BRADLEY, Chicago. Don’t worry about the boy who shoots a paper wad at the ceiling of the schoolroom. Watch out for the tattletale. The so-called bad boy will either own a bank or steal one before he’s through, but the tattletale just goes on making trouble. There are preachers and preachers, and I am a preacher. say that if more preachers would quit wearing rubbers and would ride in the smokers with the men, there would be more men in our churches. The world has enough pickles, what it needs is more roses. The failure of men to attain their goals is due to the failure of the This lack of appreciat- There is just as I always individual to place a proper emphasis on values. ing proper value has even crept into our very homes. much power in the home today as there ever was, but it has changed The children of today rule the homes. But never worry about the bad boy. The same thing that makes a man bad will make him good if properly directed. I'm not sure about the fact of a hell, but if there is one you’ll find the tattletales and the hands. cowards there. Modern Business Lacking in Requisites of Religion and Patriotism : By BISHOP ERNEST M. STIRES, Long Island. The old patriots made great sacrifices for their country, but I am doubtful about the people nowadays. Business should contain more re- ligion and patriotism, although there are good men in Wall street who are friends of God. In Washington’s day church workers were leaders of their country and unless we do our best by God and religion it will be an insult to God and treason to America. Every one should be on the lookout to see that none of the leaders become slackers through selfishness. There are other things wrong as well. Society women are wearing too few clothes and using too much cosmetics. No wonder that morals are misunderstood, merely on account of superficial appearances. It is treason not to keep the Sabbath. Entertainments on Saturday night should not continue after midnight and amateur theatricals on Sunday are improper. Sentiment or Emotion Must Not Guide Youth in Its Choice of Life Mate By DR. ALFRED SCOTT WARTHIN, University of Michigan. Man needs a new religion and a new philosophy of life if the race is to be saved from degeneration. Sentimental and emotional factors make for race degeneration, I refer to the choice of a life-mate on the basis of love or sex attraction. If the race is to improve such methods of choice must stop. Young men and women must be taught to pick out the best possible sex partners according to eugenic laws. My observations of youth have led me to believe that the old reli- gions are passing away. Youth is looking for a simple, logical rule of life and the elemental facts of biology will suffice, Rs cs sn ta oh sean Why do so many, many babies of to- day escape all the- little fretful spells and infantile ailments that used to worry mothers through the day, and keep them up half the night? If you don’t know the answer, you haven't discovered pure, harmless Cas- toria. It is sweet to the taste, and sweet in the little stomach. And its gentle influence seems felt all through the tiny system. Not even a distaste- ful dose of castor oil does so much good. Fletcher's Castoria is purely vege- table, so you may give it freely, at first sign of colic; or constipation; or diarrhea. Or those many times when you just don’t know what is the mat- ter. For real sickness, call the doc tor, always. At other times, a few drops of Fletcher's Castoria. The doctor often tells you to do just that; and always says Fletcher's. Other preparations may be just as pure, just as free from dangerous drugs, but why experiment? Besides, the book on care and feeding of babies that comes with Fletcher's Castoria is worth its weight in gold! Children Cry for Porter's Pain King ALiniment for Lame Back for Soreness for Aches for Pains Use It Today! The Geo. H. Rundle Co. Piqua Ohio Established 1871 IF MOTHERS ONLY KNEW During these days how many children are complaining of Headache,” Fever- ishness, Stomach Troubles and Irregu- lar Bowels and take cold easily. If mothers only knew what Mother Gray's Sweet Powders would do for their children, no family would ever be without them for use when needed. These powders are so easy and pleas- ant to take and so effective in thejr action that mothers who once use them gladly tell others about them. Save yourself a night of worry, by getting a package at your druggist today. Trial Package sent FREE. Address Mother Gray Co., Le Roy, N.Y. 1066S STHMA REMEDY INDIGESTION RELIEVED . « « QUICKLY Carter's Little Liver Pills Purely Vegetable Laxative assist nature in its digestive . duties. Many times one of these little pills taken after meals or at bedtime do wonders, especially when you have overeaten or are troubled with constipasion. Remember they are a doctor's prescription and can be taken by the entire family. All Druggists 25¢c and 75¢ Red Packages. _CARTER'S IZ: PILLS HANFORD’S Balsam of Myrrh A Healing Antiseptic All dealers are authorized to refund your money for the first bottle if not suited. PISO’'S Sorcoughs Quick Relief! | A pleasant, effscive & Throat and ernally, use PISO’S Chest Salve, 35¢, RS SS | | (Copyright, ®@., U. a LCI EN. THE FEA TT / Now) QUT { HURRYING WM B FELIX - TW There’s Man the Foot : By PERCY 3 Copyright, by the McC
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers