REGG
THE STORY
Renewing a childhood attach-
ment, Ernestine Briceland, of a
wealthy family, is attracted by
Will Todd, newspaper artist, son
of a carpenter.
CHAPTER I—Continued
—
She felt her horizon widening. What
a world men lived in! Papa had his
quarries, and Will his curlicues, and
Loring his law! How wonderful to
live in something, and for it! She felt
that her own life was dim and futile,
Now that she was out of school, she
was expected to have a good time un-
til she married. Will was the only
man she knew outside the old familiar
circle. How dull her interests were
compared to his thrill over a twenty-
five-dollar-a-week job.
“But, Will,”—she turned to him in
such a manner that it seemed their
faces would touch, drawn by the strong
attraction that brought them so close
—*“I thought you were going to be a
real artist.”
“Ho,” he said, “that’s why I couldn’t
stand the Art institute! I want to be
a cartoonist. I've discovered that you
can do a whole lot more with a pencil
line than make a petunia. I think you
can make a line stand up and howl.
You can make it do all sorts of things
for you, caricature, design—nonsense.
1 don’t want to be a color artist.”
“But the birds you made for me,
when you were only ten—the colors,
and the way their heads bent—it’s a
beautiful book, Will. I showed it to
my zoology teacher when I was in
school, at Lake Forest, and he praised
it. I wouldn't take anything for it.”
Will brushed the birds aside impa-
tiently.
“Kid stuff,” ge told her. “Have you
veen these little shadow figures, just
straight lines for body and limbs?
You can get action into one of those
things. Look here,” He had been
husy with a soft pencil on the edge
of the stiff menu card, and he showed
Ernestine now a sketch of a cat, sit-
ting there looking at the fish list, lick-
ing his whiskers—a predatory hungry
Tom. She laughed involuntarily, and
her eyes filled with admiration.
“l see what you mean,” she said.
“It’s a new kind of art, like jazz is a
new kind of music. I know what
you're trying to get at, and you do it,
too. It’s disrespectful though—don’t
you think?”
He was entranced with her under-
standing.
“Of course it's disrespectful,” he said
robustly. “Why not? I think the time
bus come for a little healthy disre-
spect. We'll show them.”
He was very compelling. Ernes-
tine’s look of admiration was extrav-
sgant, and he was becoming a little
drunk with fit.
“I've done several column heads.
You watch the first page of the second
half of the Sun. I always put a little
cat's head down in one corner of my
stuff. We're not allowed to sign our
things, but you can identify mine if
you watch the paper. The fellows all
encourage me, and my boss does, too.”
He looked at her for a long moment
and then exclaimed:
“Gosh, it’s good to talk to you,
Ernestine. You always did get right
inside of my heart. 1 wasn’t a bit
surprised to see you. You may not be-
lieve me but all these years I've often
thought I'd meet you. 1 never forgot
that day you came to our house. I've
often seen your shadow, sitting there
in the kitchen eating bread and milk,
end talking to mom. I remember I
wanted to give you all my things—
every one. You should have taken
them. It would have made a lonely
¥id happy.”
She was tender, remembering.
“I made an awful fuss because they
dragged me to the lake that summer,”
she told him. “f wanted to stay in
Chicago with you, and the practical
difficulties of leaving a child behind
did not interest me. We should have
been together more. We were real
friends.”
“A boy never forgets kindness,” he
said soberly. “You were so good to
me and always took my part.”
“But, Will, you did something you
never knew, for me. You told me one
day a thing I've never forgotten. I
thought your brace gave you a won-
derful advantage, in the way of a
lever to get your own will, and you
scorned me for such a thought. It
would be taking advantage, you said.
I've never forgotten that. You were
the one who taught me to be sport-
Ing.”
The spell was cast. The mysterious
bonds of spiritual understanding were
forged.
“You're awf'ly pretty, Ernestine,
You were a cute kid—but fat. I can
remember what round cheeks you had,
But now your cheeks slope down in
ARS CAN
HOOSLE
MARGARET
WEYMOUTH
JACKSON
COPYRIGHT by
80BBS- MERRILL CO
W.N.U. SERVICE
line of her cheek with a tentative fore.
finger, then quickly withdrew his hand
and flushed. “Dark eyes, dark hair
and pale clear skin, What more could
a girl want, unless it is such perfect
bony structure? You'd be pretty any-
way, dark or thin, or pale or flushed,
because it's real—deep. Now you're
blushing—and that gray coat.” He
laughed delightedly, and the deep color
suffused Ernestine’s cheeks at his per-
sonalities. But she was not dis-
pleased, only smiled at him.
“Aren't you glad we knew each
other when we were kids?” he sald to
her. “It makes us seem so much closer
now.”
They swayed together and fell into
a warm hypnotic silence. His little
finger brushed her hand, as he knocked
his ashes into the tray the waitress
had placed for him, and at once they
rose, talking and laughing artificially.
Ernestine felt the need to masquer-
ade her bright joy in him. She was
acting like a moon-struck high school
girl, acting as though she had never
talked to a man before. Well, she
hadn’t. Not like this, certainly. She
“Why Were You Running, Ernestine?”
had listened to plenty of them raving
about themselves, and explaining the
technicalities of football, but she had
never taken part in such a satisfying
conversation. But she dissembled as
they left the tearoom and turned
toward the newspaper plant.
It was dark now, and the streets
were crowded with homegoing work-
ers, so they instinctively drew close
together. She asked after his mother
in a formal tone.
“She'll never be well,” he told her
sorrowfully, and at once her sympa-
thy drew them back into intimacy, He
tried to put the conversation back into
place.
“How's your pretty sister Lillian?”
She answered that Lillian was a
beauty now, fair and slender and ex-
quisite. A lady.
“She's going to marry Loring Ham-
ilton, I guess,” she said. “He’s at the
house a lot, as he’s always been. He's
awfully good to both of us, but Lil-
lian’s his choice. He's in his father's
law office now. He inherited a nice
practice. I believe he wants to be a
judge. Don’t you remember him?"
“A big blond boy? He was al-
most grown when we were kids. Yes,
I remember him. He treated me with
an air of weary patience. I hated him,
He used to tease you and pull your
hair. If he prefers Lillian, he's
changed, for he always noticed you.
I admit T was simply jealgns. He had
the run of the house, and I was ap
outsider and treated well only be
cause I was a kid.”
“Why, Will, that’s not a bit nice of
you to say,” she protested, and he
laughed good-naturedly, - Both of them
knew it was true.
“Is your mother just the same? She
had such a pleasant voice, but she
was bossy. Kind of a queen. I ad-
mired her tremendously. She fitted
entirely my juvenile notions of a
grand lady.”
Ernestine laughed now.
“There's nobody like mamma for
managing every one,” she admitted.
They came to the Sun offices, and
as they went in through the squirrel
cage, the rhythmic crash of great
presses came muffled to Ernestine's
ears. Will took her over the whole
place.
“Upstairs and downstairs, and in my
lady’s chamber,” he said.
In the syndicate rooms he {intro-
duced her to half a dozen young men
who were much impressed with her
youth and beauty. He showed her the
stool he sat on, the work on his
board.
Mr. Poole came out and shook hands
with her, and she was conscious of
disappointment. He was a huge, un-
tidy old man, with fat cheeks that
had fallen a little, and a shiny bald
head. But his eyes were intelligent,
his voice was very kind. She felt that
she might like him, if she could only
know him,
Will's vanity seemed excessive, Al-
though she knew he was proud to
show her, he was none the less proud
of himself, But it was like the vanity
of a capable child, not at all displeas-
ing. Not until they got into the
street again did Ernestine realize that
they had walked all over the big plant
with their fingers interlaced. But she
clung to him now shamelessly. He
was such an old friend. She was filled
with strong reluctance that this vivid
hour should end.
He said goodby at the bus, without
mentioning another meeting. Ernes-
tine could not let it go at that.
“But you must come to see me,”
she said, as the conductor waited im-
patiently for her to board the bus.
“I want to see you again, WilL”
“Sure,” he said vaguely. His mind
had already gone back to work,
“Sure. Call me up some day.”
Ernestine went quickly along. Her
feet were dancing, and her heart was
dancing, too. She was extraordinarily
happy and full of life. If only such
an encounter could be a daily occur-
rence!
Some one was standing on thelr
doorstep, watching her, waiting for
her. She ran up the steps, and Loring
Hamilton was there, big and fair and
handsome, in his dark coat, with the
fur collar.
“Hello, Lorrie. Have to rush in,
I'm late. Are you just leaving?”
He looked down at her, the light
from the drawing room window
streaming on to his face, and Ernes-
tine paused, surprised. She was fillled
with an inward dismay for she had
never seen him like this, His face,
usually complacent, was keen now,
his blue eyes were brilliant sparks,
his whole countenance quickened and
fired. His voice, when he spoke
again, had a barely perceptible quaver.
“Why were you running, Ernestine?
You're still a kid half the time. When
I heard you running, I knew it was
you, because my heart began to run,
too.”
“Nonsense,” said Ernestine briskly,
but he was persistent.
“I was just going away, disap-
pointed that I hadn't seen you, and
here I have you alone for a moment
at last, I've been wanting to tell you
how beautiful you are, since you're
grown. Where have you been? Your
face is shining. I could see it luminous
in the dark street. Ernestine—don’t
be silly. I'm trying to tell you I care
for you—I—"
She pulled away from him with de-
termination,
“You're the silly one,” she said im-
patiently. “And dumb, as well.” She
passed him quickly, and closed the
door behind her, shutting out his hand.
some, desirous face.
In her room, dressing for dinner,
she was furious with him for intrud-
ing on the enchantment of her hour
with Will. Didn't he know that he
had made himself conspicuous, all last
year, with his attentions to Lillian?
He was not her lover. What was the
matter with him?
THE PATTON COURIER
_ i Ty
LATRICK HENRY
by Charles Heck
Into
ATES RI/SSELL LOWELZ,
a) Wide World Frotos
1
By ELMO SCOTT WATSON
ECENTLY there were un-
veiled in the Hall of
Fame on the campus of
New York university,
busts of nine great Amer-
feans. It is a remarkable
fact that of these nine im-
mortals who have thus
taken their places in this
American Valhalla, seven
were natives of the same
state and five of them
were graduates of the
same university. Insofar as
Massachusetts this year is
celebrating its tercentenary and hon-
oring the men who helped add to her
renown as a colony and a state, the
ceremony at the New York institution
might properly be regarded as a part
of the tercentenary celebration. For
those seven men all sprang from the
soil of the Old Bay state and five of
them were graduated from Harvard!
The nine who were thus honored in
this year's ceremony included two
statesmen, two historians, an author,
a poet, an educator, an inventor and
a Jurist. Their names and their rec-
ords of achieyement are as follows:
John Quingy Adams was born in
Braintree, Mass, July 11, 1767. After
graduation fom Harvard he practiced
law in Massachusetts and first entered
public life in 1794 when President
Washington appointed him minister to
Holland and two years later minister
to Portugal. In 1797 he became min-
ister to Prussia, and at the end of his
career in that post returned to Massa-
chusetts where he was elected to the
state senate in 1802. The next year
he was elected to the United States
senate. President Madison appointed
him minister to Russia in 1809 and
he played an important part in arrang-
ing the treaty of peace which ended
the War of 1812 between Great Brit-
ein and the United States. Adams
was next appointed minister to Eng-
land, and after an absence of eight
years abroad he was called back to
America to serve as secretary of state
under President Monroe,
Adame’ principal achievement as sec-
retary of state was the treaty with
Spain, whereby Florida was ceded to
the United States for $5,000,000. In
the campaign of 1824 he was elected
President over Andrew Jackson when
the election was thrown into the house
of representatives, but in the election
of 1828 Jackson was the victor. How-
ever, the ex-President did not long re-
main in private life. In 1831 he was
elected to congress where he remained,
representing the same district of Mass-
achusetts, until his death in Wash-
ington February 23, 1848.
George Bancroft, born in Worcester,
Lillian came in from her room,
which adjoined Ernestine’s, and the
younger sister looked at the elder one |
with old but ever-fresh admiration.
“Loring was kidding me,” she told
herself. “Of course he's crazy about
Lillian.”
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
Black cats are eyed with horror by
railroad men, but dogs are considered
lucky. Cross-eyed people avoid ap-
proaching American engine cabs be-
cause they are evil omens liable to be
driven away with well-aimed lumps
of coal.
Their proper function is to sit on the
first seat of the rear coach, thereby
conferring one day's luck on the con-
ductor. As a matter of fact, while the
engine driver is giving his steed a
final inspection all adults wha stare
at him are considered unlucky unless
they are accompanied by children.
Accidents on United States lines are
believed to occur in triplets. An en-
gineer who reports one is gloomy and
despondent until he has worked off
the spell by reporting two more.
Neither will any engineer who has
not lost all interest in life cheerfully
write “13 cars” on his report; he pre-
that perfect line,” He touched the
SECC
Writer Has Long List of Rail Superstitions
fers to report “13 cars and an engine.”
The brakeman supports the driver in |
his observance of superstitious rites |
by never carrying his lamp above his
waist. To do so is considered fatal.
But the strangest of all tales of
railway superstition is the story of
the engine on the New York, New
Haven and Hartford line. On the thir-
teenth of every month, no matter who
he may be, the driver of that engine
reports sick, The number of the en-
gine is O-13.—London Mail.
——————————
Date Set for Sessions
The Constitution provided that the
congress should assemble March 4,
1789, and thereafter convene “in ev-
ery year” on the first Monday in De-
cember unless it shall by law appoint
a different day. Up to and including
May 20, 1820, 1€ acts were passed
naming dates other than December.
Since then, with few exceptions, con-
gress has convened in December,
Mass, October 3, 1800, was also a
Harvard graduate. After studying
abroad he selected history as his
special branch and soon became wide-
ly known, both in Europe and Amer-
fcan as a historian and teacher. The
first volume of his greatest work,
“History of the United States,” was
published in 1834, When James K.
| Polk became President he appointed
Bancroft secretary of the navy and
his greatest achievement in this posi-
tion was to win the title of “founder
of the United States Naval academy”
by establishing the training school for
our future sea captains at An-
napolis, Md. Bancroft died in Wash-
ington, January 17, 1891.
James Fenimore Cooper, born in
Burlington, N, J., September 15, 1789,
was the author who immortalized the
American Indian in his “Leather-
stocking Tales,” and whose sea stories
revolutionized the literature of the sea.
One day while reading an English
novel he made a remark which has
become a classic of would-be au-
thors: “I believe I could write a
better story myself.” Encouraged by
his wife, he attempted it, and in 1820
his first novel “Precaution” was pub-
lished anonymously. It attracted some
attention in England and it encour-
aged him to continue his writing, The
result wag “The Spy,” published a year
later, and “during the winter of 1821-
JATLES FENTITORE' COOPER
by Victor Salvatore
fact that it possessed a novelist of its
own.” Cooper died in Cooperstown,
N. Y., September 14, 1851.
One phrase, “Give me liberty or
give me death!” is synonymous for
the name of Patrick Henry, “the Ora-
tor of the Revolution.” Born at Stud-
ley, Va., May 29, 1736, the future ad-
vocate of freedom was an indolent pu-
pil in school and a failure in business.
But when he took up the study of law
he found himself and soon became
known as one of the most brilliant law-
yers in a state noted for its legal lu-
minaries. By 1763 he had acquired
renown as an orator and this was in-
creased in the famous “Parson’s Case”
when he denied the right of the Brit-
ish king to abrogate acts of the co-
lonial legislature,
Henry was an Influential member of
the Continental congress from 1774 to
1776 and a signer of the Declaration
of Independence. In 1776 he was chos-
en governor of Virginia and served un-
til 1779. He sat in the legislature
from 1780 to 1784, again served as
governor from 1784 to 1786, and once
more, from 1786 to 1790, was a mem-
ber of the state assembly. He de-
clined to serve in the Constitutional
convention and opposed the ratifica-
tion of the Constitution, Again in
1799 he ran for the legislature and
was elected but died in Charlotte
county, June 6, 1799, before he could
take office.
Elias Howe, inventor of the sewing
machine, was another Bay State prod-
uct, having been born in Spencer,
Mass, in 1819. In 1843-45 he ex-
perimented with a lock-stitch sewing
machine and finally perfected it, se-
curing a patent in 1846. For years he
vainly sought recognition of his inven-
tion, both in this country and in Eng-
land, where he sold his rights in 1847
for 50 pounds sterling. While absent
abroad his patent was infringed upon
by others, but eventually the courts
decided in Howe's favor, and after
years of wretched poverty Howe sud-
denly found himself wealthy. In 1863
he erected a large sewing machine fac-
tory at Bridgeport, Conn., where he
died in 1867.
James Russell Lowell, born in Cam-
bridge, Mass.,, on February 22, 1819,
was one of the famous groups of writ-
ers which Massachusetts gave to the
nation during the middle half of the
Nineteenth century, and of them all
Lowell was undoubtedly the most ver-
satile. Having been graduated from
Harvard in 1838 he immediately en-
tered the Harvard law school, took his
degree in 1840 and began to practice.
After geveral years abroad Lowell
returned to become a teacher in Har-
vard and to enter upon an epoch in
his life as a scholar and critic. He
became the first editor of the newly
established Atlantic Monthly in 1857,
resigning in 1861 to become associ-
ated with the North American Review
in 1864. He resigned that position in
1872 and again went abroad, where the
famous English colleges of Oxford and
22 the American public awoke to the
Cambridge conferred degrees upon
e Hallo
GE Se re ee
3
eee AN prec
I
Jz
by Allan Clark i
- Re——— } ; Gh “
Fam
»
rr eee]
JOLY QUZTCY ADATT:
ELIAS HOWE—
by Charles Keck
him. In 1877 he was named United
States minister to Spain and in 1880
was transferred to England, returning
to America in 1885. On August 12,
1891, he died in Cambridge.
Horace Mann, born In Franklin,
Mass, May 4, 1796, after his grad-
uation from Brown university became
a teacher, and then a lawyer. He was
a member of the Massachusetts legis-
lature from 1827 to 1837, and from
1837 to 1848 served as secretary of
the Massachusetts board of education.
Mann visited Europe in 1843 and
brought back with him reports on for-
eign school systems which attracted
wide attention. Due to his efforts the
school system of Massachusetts was
entirely reorganized and became a
model for many other states. From
1848 to 1853 Mann served as a mem-
ber of congress. After his term was
over he became president of An-
tioch college in Ohio and served there
until his death in 1859. History has
preserved his fame as the founder of
the normal school system in this coun-
try and “father” of the American pub-
lic school system.
John Lothrop Motley won his
fame as a historian of a European
country. He was born in Dorchester,
Mass., April 15, 1814, and was gradu-
ated fom Harvard in 1831. He then
went to Germany to study, and upon
his return to this country studied law,
although literature was more to his
taste. He published an American nov-
el in 1839, but it attracted little at-
tention. After a short career at the
American legation in Russia he re-
turned to America again to serve a
term in the Massachusetts legislature.
After ten years of hard labor, dur-
ing which he returned to Europe and
found It necessary to rewrite much of
that which he had already written, he
published his “History of the Dutch
Republic” in 1856 and was immediate-
ly acclaimed both in America and
abroad. Along with these literary
honors came a call to public service,
and from 1861 to 1867 he served as
American minister to Austria, and
from 1869 to 1870 to Great Britain.
Motley died in Dorchester, England,
May 29, 1877.
A statesman, a writer, an educator
and inventor and two historians—such
was the contribution of Massachusetts
to the 1930 Hall of Fame ceremonies.
To make it complete, she also provided
a great jurist—Joseph Story. He was
born at Marblehead, Mass. in 1779.
Harvard graduated him in 1798 and
Salem saw him begin practice as a
lawyer in 1801.
He was elected to congress in 1808
and in 1811 became speaker of the
house, Soon afterwards President
Madison appointed him associate jus- |!
tice of the Supreme Court of the Unit-
ed States, and during his long career
of 34 years on that high tribunal he
assisted in the development of Amer-
No matter how severe,
you can always have
immediate relief:
Bayer Aspirin stops pain quickly. It
does it without any ill effects. Harmless
to the heart; harmless to anybody. But
it always brings relief. Why suffer?
BAYER
ASPIRIN
Would Call New Planet Pax
England has taken great interest
in the newly discovered planet, The
selection of a name was also dis-
cussed. One commentator said that
the astronomers should hand the
task over to the League of Nations,
and if so it probably would be
called Pax.
At home
or away
Feen-a-mint is the ideal summertime
laxative. Pleasant and convenient.
Gentle but thorough in its action.
Check summer upsets with Feen-ae
mint at home or away.
INSIST ON
THE GENUINE
Feen:amint
FO R CO NSTI PATI ON
NY
(N
)
PARKER’S
HAIR BALSAM
Removes Dandruff-Stops Hair Falling
Imparts Color and
Beauty to Gray and Faded Hai
0 60c and $1.00 at Druggists.
iscox Chem. Wks.. Patchogue, N.Y.
BS
EN
A] 4 g
FLORESTON SHAMPOO — Ideal for use in
connectionwith Parker's Hair Balsam. Makesthe
hair soft and fluffy. 60 cents by mail or at drug=
gists. Hiscox Chemical Works, Patchogue, N. ¥,
Scotch Women Curling
Curling, long considered a man's
game, has become a feminine pas-
time in Scotland. Some women have
become experts at the game, and
many new curling clubs for them
were formed during the winter. The
famous Scottish organization, the
Kinross Curling club, is the latest to
form a women’s section, which is al-
ready flourishing.
————
A man’s best friends are likely te
be those he doesn’t meet often.
“But it’s no worse
than RAT-NIP”
“From the way the rats were
wiped out in the next house,
our people can no more resist
Rat-Nip than they could resist:
the magic music of the Pied
Piper in Hamelin Town several
hundred years ago.”
Rat-Nip is irresistible. There's
an ingredient in it that rats like.
As soon as they eat it, they rush
for water, out of the building,
and die. Succeeds where other
baits and poisons fail. Gets all
the rats. Equally fatal to mice,
gophers, and cockroaches.
Sold under money back guaran
tee by grocers, druggists, and
hardware dealers. 35¢c a handy
tube. If your dealer can’t sup-
ply, order direct from Liquid
Veneer Corporation, Liquid
Veneer Bldg., Buffalo, N. Y.
AAT-N\P
Stands them on their heads
ican constitutional law and in fixing
the status of the American admiralty, |
patent and equity jurisprudence, He |
died in Cambridge in 1843,
Tn
STHMA REMEDY
"SVS =
NN
(Copyright,
— Reme—
MICKII
7
{By PERC
© by the McC
A eee