L
THE GREEN JADE
A ROMANCE OF THE DESERT
By Lulu L. Bridges
the jade seemed among them a
stranger in bold contact. Away from
the pebble bar and under the mellow
of a home lamp the color softened and
the oily feel became a touch of balm.
When at last I slept, it was only to
dream a strange dream; over and over
came the choice of retaining but one
This is a story of facts. I am coa
sidered civilized. I have the outward
appearance of modern refinement.
I have learned ratio and proportion
in an exclusive college and disproved
them at Monte Carlo; I have appeared
before clubs with papers of philan-
thropic subject and misanthespic sub
stance.
I have spent days slumming in the
name of charity and nights acting in
the name of society.
Like an unchartered sattelite, I have
swung round the world in a path that
fades as fast as I move, recognized
only by the phosphorence of my jeweis
and the nebula of my voiles and pon
But, despite all this, savagery
The call of the track
less seas and sandy lonliness stirs my
heart more than all the idle chatter
of wearied and wearying gentility.
This innate inheritance I can ac-
«<ount for only by analyzing myself as
a Hybrid freak.
Wizards of plant and animal-kind
have long ago proven the law of the
Brinn monk, that nature preserves the
characteristics of with
scientific accuracy through countless
generations,
gees.
is my heritage.
parentage
The best of the breed show the
colorings emphasized, or the
elongated or silvered; others display
the weakness of some far remote par-
ent; while one now and then shatters
all laws of heredity and establishes a
freak.
Thus can I understand how savager/
is my heritage, bequeathed by the for-
bears who dwelt in caves near the
firths and the ancestors who floated
with the sands, driven by the lawless
winds, purposeless and without desti-
nation.
fleece
The history and attributes of the
whole Scotch race seem written in the
blue of my mother’s eye; in the hair
where the sun’s ray rests and sparkle
as if it were composed of myriad cry-
stals; in the heart which can no more
be easily won than could the ancestral
territory, though once won, loyal for-
ever.
Through my father's veins ran the
blood of the royal lineage of the land
of adventure whose queen once sent
the Pinta and her sisters into unknown
seas to find a Fountain of youth and
a treasure land of gems of gold.
My friend-mother never told me the
story that might have explained my
antipathy to the wooded hills or
thrown light on my perversity of dis-
position. It was only from a sparkling
of her eye and a softening of the tone
that I gathered, link by link, a fairy
chain, as it were, that traced back-
ward into the days of her romance,
solved the mystery for me.
fomewhere in the realm of long ago,
she had been won by a distin ruished
young Spanish officer; attracted per-
haps by his contrasting personal ap-
pearance, though more likely by his
self tenderness, the counterpart of
which her maiden heart yearned for,
but found not in the sturdiness of her
own race.
The remembrance of that father is
limited to a single etching in the gal-
lery of memory. The dimmed picture
shows a dark handsome face whose
eyes glowed with a worshipful love
for his child, when his strong arms
clasped me close and swung me upon
the most beautiful horse I have ever
seen. The tin-type in mother’s old
hair trunk pictures a mounted, lythe,
straight figured man in uniform,
adorned with gold buttons, braid and
epaulettes and glittering sword.
I loved the horse for a long time. |
could not understand why my mother
paled at my childish praise of. the
noble animal which had borne my
father to the battle’s front and fallen
with him in death. Could it be that
her change of mien betokened a jeal
ousy of the steed Could the charger
be blamed for the husband's death
while sharing the fate with him? Per-
haps. But still another reason:
The Brinn monk's law was working
out its proof; an Arab ancester had
left to this Castilian knight not alone
the maroon tinge of blood, but brave
fatalism in battle and a devotion tor
his charger _strofig” enough, deep
_engazh, to rival religions, faith and
family ties.
My prosaic mother yearned to keep
in touch with the throbbing world yet,
several months out of each year, he»
object unknown to me, she was accus-
tomed to spend alone in the desert
So, in childhood, I had seen many
deserts.
One day mother told me we were to
make our home in California, that
epitome of the earth, with the climate
of Italy, the fruits and vineyards of
Spain, the scenery of Switzerland, the
jewels of the Golgonda, the gold of
ophir, and, what now seems best of
all, the desert.
My introduction to the desert had
been made through the windows of
an observation car; and my low bow
was not in formal recognition, but to
escape the blinding dust and stifling
wind. Like all. strangers, I looked
merely upon its heat and desolation
and wondered why God had made it.
Its black igneous rocks seemed
monuments to. the wrath of prehistoric
volcanoes, whose very fires dried up
the seas at their feet, destroyed every
container of life and then with flaming
tongues forbade life ever to enter what
now I know to be my and many an
other's Eden.
But later, when we decided to winter
near the dividing line
streams on the western slope bound
where the
in glad anticipation toward the great
Pacific, and on the Eastern strive to
assuage the monstrous thirst of count
less miles of sand and salt, I one day
caught a breath that lulled to sleep
the lure of the throbbing social world
and awoke a love for this trackless
waste,
The transition of my affections came
suddenly at daybreak, when in a pass-
ing whim, I changed my usual morning
ramble from the western slope, and
climbed to the very summit to catch
the first glimpse of the sun. The panc-
rama that flashed upon my sight when
heaven's gates opened and Phoebus’
horses burst through lives indelibly
photographed on my brain, though the
sunrise itself was unnoticed.
Like those dreams when reason is
sleeping and imagination alone is
guard, I beheld a wealth of jewels,
which I had never before fancied in ex
istence. From the crown of a fairy
queen at night had come each separate
grain of desert’s sand, whose glittering
radiance was enhanced by the dawning
light. Each pebble was an artist's
palette whereon the colors had blended
till every hue and tint that endless
combinations could conceive suggested
a lilliputian ball room where midget
beauties wore plush coats and satin
gowns, a nation of tiny royalty and as
the heat waves caught the sun’s rays
like the turning of a kaliedeoscope
each second reeled off films of such
glistening beauty that I wondered if
this were not God's storehouse and
these the jewels to be buried in the
mines of worlds and stars yet unborn.
As I watched, the jewels melted into
a sea of glass, from whose concave
depths ascended a single ray af
warmth striking my heart and heat-
ing my blood to Arab fervor.
I was no longer a child of the world
but an Arab of the desert entering
upon my heritage!
Forgetting my waiting breakfast and
unmindgul of the deceptive distances,
I'sped down the mountain and through
the foothills but, lured on by the hope
of still greater treasures, leaving the
mine road, I turned into the sands,
themselves, surrounded by mesquite
and cacti. =
My objective point was a small river
whose bed was dry save when tae
rainy season made of it a flood rent.
Here I found, in an angle, a nook
where the sun had seldom sent its
blaze and I could rest touching the
mute sirens that had enticed me so
far from home.
Feverishly, I gathered some
me into my lap. One was an ame-
thyst blue that grew deeper as mois-
ture brought out its depth. It recalled
to me my mother's eyes as I pressed
it tightly, fancying her fingers in a
love clasp around by own . Then clear-
ly her face appeared and suddenly, 1
seemed to hear her anxious call as
she discovered my chair empty at the
table. I started as if to gos dropping
my pebbles as I did so, all thoughts
of mother grew dim—
near
and visions
vanished.
Was it from my exhausting walk,
my almost nervous delirium in my new
found happiness, or was it some wierd
uncanny influence of this sandy ceme-
tery of heroic lives that had woven
some psychic spell around me?
I trembled and sought my beads.
Alas, they were at home.
Then there arose from my lonely
battling heart a prayer, not as I was
used to praying, but half wished,
half uttered, that my new found
friends in their brilliant hued gar-
ments might be the incarnation of ab-
sent loved ones, and in the days to
come be companions to charm me
here in the nunnery I had chosen for
all my idle hours! How strangely
real the answer was soon to be!
Slipping the blue pebble into the
pocket of my blouse, I picked up one
of amber hue, blotched with reddish
brown. At the touch, a flash of reco!
lection presented my childhood play
fellow: “Lasses” the children haa
called him pezause of his peculiarly
colored hair. 1 gazea °*' the stone,
each blotch became a freckle 2f hig
ruddy face as I had seen it one day
long gone by, when I made earnest
pledges, with guileless lips; or when
with haughty words or scornful tone
1 had wounded him deeper than could
have the missives of his loved battie
field. A mist rose before my eyes and
as he pa f
ssed away, I saw the frost of
homeless chill cover the noble head.
He had in His life no pebbles to
speak of love.
Guiltily, I slipped the amber with
the blue and Tom was again forgotten.
A pebble of greyish white like an un-
polished diamond lay near my feet.
Stooping, I touched it. Instantly, my
thoughts reverted to my debut party.
Here was the dress my dearest friend
wore on that night of nights. How I
loved her! How I confided my every
secret to her keeping! How often we
swore eternal friendship, praying to die
the same day!
Thus ran our beautiful comradeship,
untl we chanced to allow our common
taste to which we proudly boasted, to
be applied to the same young man,
her present husband.
Now, even the stone is not half so
cold as she or I
And then I found a gold brown one
which reflected the strands of anether
chum’s hair.
violet eyes.
Soon, a cold black jewel whether a
dron or a polished besalt, I am not
geologist enough to decide, attracted
my attention. As it lay in my hand
this somber stone seemed to meta-
morphosize, and a silver plate: At
Rest—spoke not of my heart as I gazed
for the last time upon lips that had
been mine. Yes, this stone was he,
beautiful even under the black wings
of death—and this stone alone was
silent to my touch, yet I clasped it
more tightly than the rest and held it
longer.
Thus life’s past came surging back
as I wandered in the bend of the river.
And as I touched each stone, like the
murmur of a cone shell, whispers of
friendship and love, voices of kindness
or reproach, spoke and echoed in my
inner mind.
So fraught with life had become
these desert sands that I planned to
come day after day, as a devotee would
go to a medium to converse with their
dead. But another feeling also pos-
sessed me—a feeling of insufficiency;
an idea that my rainbow lacked yet
a color, the spectrum of my heart
showed an incompleteness. What was
it? I could not so much as guess.
Thus my conscious self would reason.
Reason? With what? With whom?
To whom or what do we address our
inner thoughts in hours when we
struggle with the decisive battles of
life? Is it not that at last our con-
scious faculties are overpowered and
a giant rises from the hidden recesses
f our little known subconscious selves,
and moves the pen or causes the lips
to utter the fatal word or directs an
act dynamic? It must be so, for in
that very moment I stooped and picked
up the only ugly stone I had yet found.
It had no lustre but instead an
unctuous feel. No prismatic crystal
lization or even rounded form made
up for its lack of color beauty. It had
not. and could not take a polish.
I had added, guided by whim or un-
discovered force a plain green jade.
Long I revelled in the companion-
ship of my fetiches until nature intro-
duced the evil spirit of the desert.
Thirst.
hour and hunger added fatigue. Has-
faithful dog upon whom the desert
me both the thirst and the hunger.
When I enteed the main road and
toiled up the foot hills, I heard behind
Its presence was so incongruous, I
thoughtlessly turned and stared. In-
stantly, it stopped beside me, and the
lone occupant of the car almost gruffly
bade me ride. Despite his rather un
kept appearance, his unshaven face
and the dust covered clothing, some
thing inspired confidence in him.
As yet I was unaccustomed to the
lack of unconventionalities and dif
ferences of social customs which
makes the west so unlike the east.
While my fatigue argued with mv
my unknown companion with a hurry
consistent with his general bearing,
leaped to the ground and almost lifted
be into the seat beside him.
at him in wounded amazement; my
terrier growled; yet I was not afraid.
The grip of his hand on my arm gavc
me a mental impression of a strona
man, an uncut gem that had worth
but not polish, begetting both repus-
nance and admiration.
dull and through the desert dust as
they searched my face and figure, |
caught a glint of green. I drew away
but not in fear. I was glad to think
the journey home would be short. Our
conversation was broken, his consist-
ing of questions bordering on the im-
His eyes were
pertient, mine on monosyllables ut-
tered in none too kindly tone.
When we reached the summit of ths
mountain, with a sudden motion of the
wrist, he swung the car to the left.
time he smiled. It was like the sun
shine and calm following a storm.
Letting the lever almost to the last
notch we sped over the crest of the
was peculiarly unconventional, 1 felt
a half willingness to go on. Mile after
mile we sped until I began to be the
questioner, “he the user of monosyl-
lables. I pleaded to return. Persua-
sions, tears, temper had no effect
—bringing in response only a shake of
the head. Then I started to grasp
the wheel and found in my clasped
fingers a stone. How long I had held
it I do not know; I loosed it and im
mediately, without seeming cause or
reason the breaks were set, we swung
back to the north and were swiftly
borne home. The stone I held was the
green jade.
Alone in my room that night, I found
I could hardly leave my contemplation
of the stones to seek the rest I so much
needed. Arrange them as I would,
Next, a violet tint was a vivid re-
minder of a life long friend ,uneffusive, [road again for the dim river trail, 2
but true, whose one beauty lay in her [quick blast of a horn startled me, and
quartz charred in some volcanic cal-
By now it was past the noon
tily, I started for home, calling my |
held no charm but who shared with |
me the labored strokes of a motor. |
sense of propriety, I stood mute, until |
I lookel |
I pointed to my home. For the first |
mountain and though the experienc? |
of my precious new found jems.
On waking I refused to acknowledge
my dream-hour decision, gathering
them into my hand-bag, I started at
once to return to my shrine in the bend
of the river.
Just when about to leave the mine
when comprehension dawned, I found
myself facing my companion of yester-
day. The hot blood rushed to my
cheeks. I turned away with no other
sign of recognition.
“Come with me” the voice was pleud-
ing, not commanding as when I had
heard it before. ‘There has been a
holocaust at the mines. We are both
needed.” The plaintive, trembling and
tender sympathy of his tone disclose:l
a character utterly foreign to what
I had hitherto seen.
Foreknowing my decision he had
thrown open the rear door of his car.
The trip was made hurriedly, silently.
I watched almost fascinated the nearly
motionless figure in the front seat.
At one point the road turned sheer
against the side of the mountain. A
fearful precipice on the right. Un-
consciously I had drawn the green
jade from my satchel and held ii
{loosely between thumb and finger. A
flash of the sun drew my eyes to it
and I was amazed to notice what un-
til now had escaped my scrutiny a
small red spot embedded in its point
At the sway and tremor of the car
1 lurched to one side, dropping the
stone. As it fell I saw its prism rays
flood its surface, as the blood of a
wounded soldier turns crimson the
field where he is slain.
Before I culd fully understand that
I had suffered a loss, we dipped down
the incline and came to a sudden stop.
Befors us tongues of fire, ever and
anon shot upward from the shaft; grey
clouds arose from its black depths
pressing hard against the sides, as if
loathe to meet the anguish it had cost.
All that we could learn was thac
a teriffic explosion had occurred. Be-
neath somewhere were nearly a hun-
dred human beings, husbands, sons,
fathers, brothers of the white faced
stricken women who crowded and
wailed at the shaft’s entrance.
Soon the cage was lowered with
orders to first bring up the HNving.
Then passed moments that seemed to
grind slowly into hours. With the first
sign of moving ropes every form
eagerly leaned nearer the awful pit;
tense and tenser grew the lines on the
| pallid faces with every foot of its
| winding.
Then the blackness left and the
| maimed bodies came into view. Now
[1 saw my companion rising with a
| subtle power, become the center of the
| scene.
| He approached; the line was broken
{and his silent motions were silently
| and quickly obeyed.
His face was set, and the deft hands
| seemed possessed wifh the Spirit of
| Divination as they went straight te
| each wound, catching the artery to
stop the ebb of life.
| Bathed in blood, but with an angel's
ouch, staying the wolf, Greed, of
| Death, they moved quickly, steadily,
| unerringly. Seeing them as the sun
{light filtered through the blood of his
| suffering fellowmen, 1 found there the
pinkish beauty, as it adorns a tiara,
| but, in its massive force and heat that
| turns the sand into a crystal.
I turned from the scene of carnage
{and sought to comfort the weeping—
{my hand clutching the Black Stone,
{until it cut into my flesh.
| Now the cage had again descended
[and was ready with its second cargo.
| Was here more need for the physician
{or comforter? The face of the mau
[ who stood in the box answered me.
| The first lifeless body was tenderly
[laid on the sand. A girlish woman
tottered forward to kneel beside the
| husband of the morning, the magnet
force that had drawn her from shove
o shore, the dead half of a life whose
| oneness was invisible.
| She raised her face and hands to
| Heaven and the other sufferers join
ing as in a chorus, there arose on the
hot air of the Mojava border-land a
| ery so bitter, so hopeless, so teriffic,
that the he:.yons seemed to darken,
land the valley become a garden, the
Garden of Gethsemene!
I knelt near the physician watching
| his face as he watched the face of the
| child-widow. When the anguish of her
voice reached his ear, the mountain
of his massive manhood melted with
a volcanic force of pent up human sym
| pathy, and there came from his lips u
[ery of pain, keener than though the
| pangs of death were grappling with
his soul.
| I fell prostrate at his feet and cried.
| “Forgive me!” My call was unheeded,
{ he did not hear, so intent was he upon
[the duties of the hour. I must have
| fainted, for my next consciousness was
lin the auto on the road near the preci-
pice looking at the yawning depths
land remembring my loss, I felt momen-
tarily the strange temptation to lean
| from its lofty height. Yet, in almost
reflex action the thought was crowded
out with a new resolve. As we slowly
climebd the hill I slipped out-quietly
and almost ran down the trail to my
niche in the river bend.
‘There 1 threw myself on my knees
and began to search for a jade, and
ch, how many I found, and cast away.
for I found not another with a ruby
set in an oily dead-hued surface! How
long I searched I can only surmise,
but at last I turned back to my shrine.
My limbs tottered as I stood, my head
throbbed in painful rhythm to my heat*
beat, the great Desert seemed to rise
and tilt and circle, I knew I was a!
last in its monstrous grip and life or
reason would be its sought-for toll.
Then for a moment all my love
turned into the bitterness of hatred.
I took all my pebbles from the bag,
end, holding them in my hand, drew
back to hurl them into their former
resting place. I could think only of
the ruby tip of the lost Jade. 1 heard
myself cry out in anguish; “Har!”—
the word died on the lips and I stood
petrified with terror. Up the loug
stretch of denuded banks came echoin:
the cry—a cry that chills the blood
and clogs the heart valves.
A growl from my terrier heid my
consciousness in poignant poise long
enough to.see the sneaking form of a
coyote creeping stealthily up the
stream.
I turned to run but all at once, It
seemed that darkness had fallen aud
I must sleep.
The night was long and my dreams
delirious. There was a touch on my
pulse that brought peace but not con-
sciousness; a vision of a strong man
bending over white; white; white
everywhere; and heat—and when 1
awoke it was not on my desert sands
but in my darkened room.
How life's shifting sands can dim
the mile posts of the past! What
changes nature builds up in the blood
of the heart and the cells of the sen-
sory nerves! So, it is hard to describe
the shock and how I stood aghast be-
fore the counter of a curio shop in an
Eastern city a few years later. For
around the neck of the swarthy sales-
girl I beheld a necklace of gaudy tar-
nished gold whose pendant was a
ruby tipped, dull green stone! She
stood beneath a single electric bulb;
and as she moved I saw the glint of
the blood red.
My voice trembled as I asked the
price of the tawdry ornament. In-
stantly the hand sought the gem. The
white teeth no longer showed in a
friendly smile. The dark face grew
darker. The voice lapsed into broken
English; “Senorita no savvy. No money
buy it. He sent it me from the Teha-
chepa, the spring by his cabin door—-
Savvy?” With the last her tone
changed, and a faint smile came back
to the lips, for her maiden eyes had
looked deep through the mists that!
had filled my own.
1 do not know why, but we met at
the counter’s end and I placed my
arm around the neck of the strange
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girl, drawing her close to my heart,
my fingers touching the ruby tip and
rressing it to the vein. “Yes, I savvy
and more” I said, “I knew and owned
that jewel when it dropped into the
spring at the foot of the precipice.
You can not know its worth but value
it above all the jewels of the earth.
I never knew its value until it passed
into the possession of one who had
appreciation. Wear it, child, and may
it prove a talisman of joy. For, after
all, Joy's brightest jewels are the crys-
tals of another’s sorrows!”
Chic Chapeau
of the Moment
If you have already purchased all
the hats necessary to fill out your sum-
mer wardrobe you are quite apt to
wait a few weeks for the between
season mode to make itself apparent.
But not all of us are so fortunate ac
to be properly hatted before the mid-
dle of July. Then what shall the new
hat for the occasion be?
Nothing is safer than an all-white
right now. It will “go” with every
thing and in the dead of summer
nothing looks cooler. There are a
great many new sports hats in white,
pretty ribbon affairs, and some of
hemp with a colored duvetyn crown.
A practical sports hat is made of an-
gora braid, joined together with a
wide fagoting of white silk to give
the popular transparent effect. An
other new white hat is built tam
shape, but its surface is a mass of
white silk flower petals and leaves
This too, combines the sports idea
with a certain amount of dressiness.
Organdie and Black Velvet
Organdie hats are in full bloom. To
give them an advance touch you mighs
build the organdie over a facing ‘of
black velvel, and trim it with tiny
ruffles of val lace.
Navy and white is another popular
and becoming combination for mid-
summer. It is chamingly combined
on a slightly drooping sailor of white
georgette with white satin flowers
appliqued under the brim and white
embroidery and blue satin flowers on
top of the brim. A close little toque.
which is necessary even in the sum-
mer wardrobe, is made of three rows
of triangularly pleated white gros-
grain ribbon, each row a little wider
than the last, with
nearest the face.
by several rows of dark blue em
broidery. This hat comes with a bag
to match.
Many Brilliant Models
Strangely enough brilliant colors
the narrowest |
They are separated |
| agriculture for its prosperity, and the
| only industries of any importance are
| the cultivation of sugar cane, coffez,
| vanilla and the manufacture of sugar
jand rum.
are at their height tor, Fnuisummer
wearing. and one finds many orange,
flame and vermilion hats. For weaur-
ing with the dark silk nothing could
be nicgr than a rolling turban of
shiny black straw with side-sweepinz
tufts of vermilion aigrettes, imitation,
of course.
One of the prettiest hats to wear
immediately with light summery
frocks is the picture hat of soft straw
and the wreath of field flowers and
grass. For the same wear the dressy
hat made of several layers of tulle,.
more often brown than black, is very
chic. >
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is a Useful Agent
Cherish and protect the lowly bum-
blebee, for he is a very useful agent
and an important adjunct to our agri-
culture, says the Pennsylvania Depart-
ment of Agriculture. The helpful mis-
sion of the bumblebee is to distribuie
the pollen of the clover, thus fertiliz-
ing the field and makingt pogsible
for the farmer to produce clover seed
for the following year’s planting. The
loud buzzing, hairy little fellow spent.
most of his time in the clover field
and without his activities our clover
seed would be reduced to a minimum
crop. The bumble-bee is generally re-
garded, and particularly in the cities
and towns, as being a non-producer
and a meance to the peace of the con-
munity, but in fact, he is just as ir-
dustrious as his cousin, the honey-bee,
and the work he carries on is of first
order in importance to our agriculture.
Short Notes
The game of billiards was brought
to America by the Spaniards, who
settled St. Augustine, Fla., in 1565.
The “dog watch” is a nautical tern»
which distinguishes two watches of
two hours each from 4 to 6 P. M. and
from 6 to 8 P. M.
Chewing gum, or chicle, was used
by the indians before the days of Col-
{umbus, as a means of quenching their
thirst.
|
|
Gaudeloupe depends entirely upon
$700
As &
Large size. Mahogany.
Good order
400
$725
LEONARD
Mahogany case. Like new.
Fine tone.
‘550
Save $100 to $300
“at NORTH'S
$550 STORY
& CLARK . .
Mahogany. Fine order
"275
Fine order
Other F. A. North Stores
NORTH PHILA: 2136 N. Front St
WEST PHILA: 302 S 52d St.
KENSINGTON: 1813-15 E. Alle-
gheny Ave.
CAMDEN: 831 Broadway
NORRISTOWN: 228 W. Main St.
CHESTER: 312 Edgmont Ave,
TRENTON: 209 E. State St.
READING: 15 N. 5th St,
ATEANTIC CITY,
106 St. James Place
ON A
(luaranteed Player-Piano
This semiannual sale offers a wonderful
opportunity to get a guaranteed, stan-
dard make upright or player-piano at
positively the biggest saving obtainable
Don’t fail to see these marvelous bargains
$650 MILTON . ¢ $600 DRUCKER §
ar *425 &CO. . = 300
ahogany. Large size. gE
| 7
Send Coupon for full list of bargains
(reat Sale!
$650 MEL- $
VILLE CLARK 4?
Large size.
Walnut case. Excellent action
Mahogany. Fine tone.
Large size,
-r
F.A.NorthCo.
1306 Chestnut Street
Please send me a complete
description of your bargains
in slightly used
Player - Pianos ( )
Upright Pianos ( )
Also details of easy-payment
plan offered in your Great Sum-
mer Sale.
Name
AQOress ci. i.iiihivesrens
. R. P. 7-23-20
i