Galveston Tribune. (Galveston, Tex.), Vol. 30, No. 179, Ed. 1 Thursday, June 23, 1910 Page: 4 of 8
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JUNE 23,
1910.
GALVESTON TRIBUNE: THURSDAY,
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WASTE AND CONSERVATION.
By Mary Roberts Rinehart
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CHAPTER XVI*
CHAPTER XV. *
The Cinematograph.
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A journey by airship would doubt-
less be very thrilling, but we can’t go
all the way to Germany lo enjoy It.
Any erroneous reflections upon the stand-
ing, character or reputation of any person,
firm or corporation, which may appear in
the columns of The Tribune, will be gladly
corrected upon its being brought to the
attention of the management^
Published Every Week Day Afternoon at
The Tribune Building, 22d and Post-
office Sts., Galveston, Texas.
Sstered at the Postoffice in Galveston as
Second-Cless Mail Matter.
Cut This Story Out and Keep It, You’ll
Want to Read It Later if Not Now.
that, you—you’re
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HIGHEST
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PER WEEK------------------------toe
PER YEAR............................$5-00
Sample Copy Fr^e on Application.
MEMBER OF ASSOCIATED PRESS
THE TRIBUNE receives the full day tele-
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tion for exclusive afternoon publication in
Galveston.
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GALVESTON TRIBUNE
(Katabliahed 1880.)
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Most any old excuse is sufficient for
a killing. The latest one in Arkansas
resulted from a quarrel over potatoes.
The French-
conservation’C'
This vaccine for typhoid fever may
be all right, but preventing the con-
ditions that produce typhoid is a lot
better.
It’s up to the aeropianists to do some
thrilling things. Count Zeppelin has
one on them since the great flight of
yesterday.
Political poetry is just as punk as
one would expect it to be.
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Turkish tobacco has almost doubled
in price, but this advance cannot be
classed as an increased cost of living.
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NOT UNTIL THEN, THOUUGH.
Texas City Times.
If the ladies’ tailors will make it the
fashion for a woman to wear dresses
she can put on without the help of her
husband , the cook and a monkey-
wrench, they will be popular with the
fellows who pay the bills.
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A resident in . the western part of
the city has a dozen chickens who
don’t know but that they are ducks.
They must have had a lot of fun this
morning. • - ■
There have been enough of these an-
nouncements that Wendling is to be
arrested in the next few hours. We
refuse to get interested again until
the arrest is made.
I
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Author of “The Circular Staircase.”
Illustations by M. G. Kettner. Copy-
right by Bobbs-Merrill Company.
WAIT FOR LEAVE TO FALL.
Lufkin News.
A Boston professor advocates the use
of tree leaves for women’s wear. The
trouble is that harvests would be too
greatly interrupted—with all the men
standing around in the autumn, wait-
ing for the leaves to begin to fall.
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Why remark about Roosevelt beat-
ing the train from Oyster Bay to the
ferry. Of course Theadore isn’t going
to play second fiddle to anything.
at a gallop,
the detective. “Upo:
Richey said, “I feel
him.”
The people at the down-town office
®f the cinematograph company were
very obliging. The picture had been
taken, they said, at M------, just two
miles beyond the scene of the wreck.
It was not much, but it was something
to work on. I decided not to go home,
but to send McKnight’s Jap for my
clothes, and to dress at the Incubator. .
I was determined, if possible, to make
my next day’s investigations without
Johnson. In the meantime, even if it
was for the last tiine, I would see Her
that night. , I gave Stogie a note for
Mrs. Klopton, and with my dinner'!
clothes there came back the gold bag
wrapped in tissue paper.
“Never heard of him,” the detective!
said indifferently. “Well, good night,
Mr. Blakeley. Much obliged.” At the
door he hesitated and coughed. j
"I suppose you understand, Mr.
Blakeley,” he said awkwardly, “that'
this—er—surveillance is all in the
day’s work. I don’t like it, but it’s)
duty. Every man tp his duty, sir.” i
“Sometime when you are in an open
mood, Johnson,” I returned, “y&u can
explain why I am being watched at
all.”
Gov. Harmon’s boom for the presi-
dency has been given another boost
by his Ohio friends. If he’s a sure
enough harmonizer he’ll be a winner.
The Shadow of a Girl.
Certain things about the dinner at
the Dallas house will always be ob-
scure to me. Dallas was something
4n’«the fish commission, and I remem-
ber his reeling off fish eggs in billions
while we ate our caviar. He had some
particular stunt he had been urging
the government to for years—some-
thing about forbidding the establish-
ment of mills and factories on river-
hanks—it seems they kill the fish,
either the smoke, or the noise, or
something they pour into the water.
Mrs. Dallas was there, I think. Of
course, I suppose she must have been;
and there was a woman in yellow; I
took her in to dinner, and I remember
she loosened my clams for me so I
could get them. But the only real per-
son at the table was a girl across in
white, a sublimated young woman
who was as brilliant as I was stupid,
who never by any chance looked di-
rectly at me, and who appeared and
disappeared across the candles and
orchids in a sort of halo of radiance.
When the dinner had progressed
from salmon to roast, and the conver-
tender.
if just in time to save us from de-
struction, with a glimpse of a stoop-
ing fireman and a grimy engineer. The
long train of sleepers followed. From
a forward vestibule a porter in a
white coat waved his hand. The rest
of the cars seemed still wrapped in
slumber. With mixed sensations I
saw my own car, Ontario, fly past,
and then I rose to my feet and
gripped McKnight’s shoulder.
On the lowest step of the last car,
one foot hanging free, was a man. His
black derby hat was pulled well down
to keep it from blowing away, and his
coat was flying open in the wind. He
was swung well out from the car, his
free hand gripping a small valise,
every muscle tense for' a jump.
“Good God, that’s my man!” I said
hoarsely, as the audience broke into
applause. McKnight half rose; in his
shat ahead Johnson stifled a yawn and
turned to eye me.
I dropped into my chair limply, and
tried to control my excitement. “The
man on the last platform of the train,”
I said. “He was just about to leap;
I’ll fewear that was my bag.”
“Could you see his face?” McKnight
asked in an undertone. “Would you
know him again?”
“No. His hat was pulled down and
his head was bent. I’m going back to
find out where that picture was ta-
ken. They say two miles> But it may
have been forty.” *
The audience, busy with its wraps,
had not noticed. Mrs. Dallas and Al-
ison West had gone. In front of us
Johnson had dropped his hat and was
stooping for it.
“This way,” I motioned
Rye, N. Y., doesen’t want any col-
legian at the head of its affairs. Rye
can have just what it wants so far as
we are concerned.
IT TAKES NERVE TO DO IT.
Nacogdoches Sentinel.
.Even suggestions are taken by some
people as criticism. To repeat what
has been heard or report proceedings
is a “high crime” in some folks’ minds.
We commend the man who has the
nerve to say what he thinks.
The biggest puzzle in Texas seems
to be the election law. The attorney
general is snowed under with queries
concerning it.
“I Have Not Forgotten—Anything." ;
sation had done the same thing—from
fish to scandal—the yellow gown
turned to me.
“We have been awfully good,
haven’t we, Mr. Blakeley?” she asked.
“Although I am crazy to hear, I have
not said ‘wreck’ once. I’m sure you
must feel like the survivor of Water-
loo, or something of the sort.”
(Continued.)
HARDWORKING GIRLS.
Dallas Times-Herald.
A man who will curse or use
language over a telephone
serves the limit of the law and
law should be a drastic one. The hun-
dreds of white girls who earn an hon-
est living in telephone exchanges are
entitled to protection and the members
of the state senate, with one excep-
tion, voted to give it to them.
ward us and growing larger
came.
Now it was on us, a mammoth in
size, with huge drivers and a colossal
The engine leaped aside, as
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of diet or dress. Real economy con-
sists in curtailing waste, not in self-
denial; it. means the using of old arti-
cles so long as they answer the pur-
pose for which they were intended, it
means extending the life of household
articles by repairing such injuries as
do not incapacitate them from use al-
together, it means the doing of some-
thing today that will save a double
effort or an expense tomorrow, and in
all these directions no people can offer
us more practical lessons than the
French, the people who have earned
the title of being the richest people,
per capita, on earth.
TRIBUNE TELEPHONES)
Easiness Office ————83
Business Manager ——————83-2 rings
Circulation Dep’t ---------------------1396
Editorial Rooms....——--------------49
msidant --------------49-2 ,rings
City Editor---------*----------------1395
Society Editor -------------------------2524
A SHORT DIS-
THE SCENE OF
ON THE FATAL
SEPTEMBER i
On Monday I went out for the first
time. I did not go to the office. I
wanted to walk. I thought fresh air
and exercise would drive away the
blue devils that had me by the throat.
McKnight insisted on a long day in
his car, but I refused.
“I don’t know why not,” he said
sulkily. “I can’t walk. I haven’t
walked two consecutive blocks in
three years. Automobiles have made
legs mere ornaments—and some not
even that. We could have Johnson
out there chasing us over the country
at $5 an hour!’’
“He can chase us just as well at five
miles an hour,” I said. “But what
gets me, McKnight, is why I am un-
der surveillance at all. How do the
police know I was accused of that
thing?”
“The young lady who sent the flow-
ers—she isn’t likely to talk, is she ?”
“No. That is, I didn’t say it was a
lady.” I groaned as I tried to get my
splintered arm into a coat. “Anyhow,
she didn't tell,” I finished with con-
viction, and McKnight laughed.
It had rained fn the early morning,
and Mrs. Klopton predicted more
showers. In fact, so firm was her be-
lief and so determined her eye that I
took the umbrella she proffered me.
“Never mind,” I said. “We can
leave it next door! I have a story to
tell you, Richey, and it requires proper
setting.”
McKnight was puzzled, but he fol-
lowed me obediently around to the
kitchen entrance of the empty house.
It was unlocked, as I had expected.
While we climbed to the upper floor
I retailed the events of the previous
night.
“It’s the finest thing I ever heard
of,” McKnight said, staring up at the
ladder and the trap. “What a vaude-,
ville skit it would make! Only you
ought not to have put your foot on,
her hand. They don’t do it in the
best circles.”
I wheeled on him impatiently.
“You don’t understand the situation
at all, Richey!” I exclaimed. “What
would you say if I tell you it was the
hand of a lady? It was covered with
rings.”
“A lady!” he repeated. “Why, I’d
say it was a darned compromising sit-
uation, and that the less you say of:
it the better. Look here, Lawrence,'
I think you dreamed it. You’ve been;
in the house too much. I take it all'
back; you do need exercise.”
“She escaped through this door, I
suppose,” I said as patiently as I
could. “Evidently down the back stair-'
case. We might as well go down that
way.”
“According to the best precedents
„ jn thpse a^ai,rs. we «hQuld.,fio.d. a^love
*
broken chain,
softly.
“But there are tons of fine gold:
chains made every year,” he said.
“Why in the world do you think that
the—er—smeary piece came from
that necklace?”
I had looked around. Johnson was
far behind, scraping the mud off his
feet with a piece of stick,
“I have the short end of the chain
in the sealskin bag,” I reminded him.
“When I couldn’t sleep this morning I
thought I would settle it, one way or
the other. It was hell to go along the
way I had been doing. And—there’s
no doubt about it, Rich. It’s the same
chain.”
about here,” he said as we started
down. But he was more impressed
than he cared to own. He examined
the dusty steps carefully, and once,
when a bit of loose plaster fell just
behind him, he started like a nervous,
woman.
“What I don’t understand is why
you let her go,” he said, stopping
once, puzzled. “You’re not usually,
quixotic.”
“When we get out into the country,'
Richey,” I replied gravely, “I am go-
ing to tell you another story, and if,
you don’t tell me I’m a fool and a
craven, on the strength of it, you are
no friend of mine.”
We stumbled through the twilight,
of staircase into the blackness of the
shuttered kitchen,
the moldy smell of closed buildings; ‘
even on that warm September morn-
ing it was damp and chilly. As we
stepped into the sunshine McKnight
gave a shiver.
“Now that we are out,” he said# “L
don’t mind telling you that I have^
been there before. Do you remember
^he night you left, and the face at
the window?”
“When you speak of it—yes.”
“Well, I was curious about that
thing,” he went on, as we started up
the street, “and I went back. The
street door was unlpcked, and I ex-
amined every room. I was Mrs. Klop-
ton’s ghost that carried a light, and
dumb.”
“Did you find anything?”
“Only a clean place rubbed on the
window opposite your dressing room.
Splendid view of an untidy interior.
If that house is ever occupied, you’d
better put stained glass in that win-
dow of yours.”
As we turned the corner I glanced
back. Half a block behind us John-
son was moving our way slowly.
When he saw me he stopped and pro-
ceeded with great deliberation to light
a cigar. By hurrying, however, he
caught the car that we took, and stood
unobtrusively on the rear platform.
He looked fagged, and absent-minded-
ly paid our fares, to McKnight’s de-
light.
“We will give him a run for his
money,” he declared, as the car moved
countryward. "Conductor, let us off
at the muddiest lane you can find.” I
At one o’clock, after a six-mile ram-!
ble, we entered a small country hotel.!
We had seen nothing of Johnson for a
half hour. At that time he was a
quarter of a mile behind us, and losing:
rapidly. Before we had finished our;
luncheon he staggered into the inn. i
One of his boots was under his arm, j
and his whole appearance was deplor-l
able. He was coated with mud, streak-
ed with perspiration, and he limped
as he walked. He chose a table not
far from us and ordered Scotch. Be-
yond touching his hat he paid no at-
tention to us.
“I’m just getting my second wind,”
McKnight declared. “How do you feel,
Mr. Johnson? Six or eight miles more
and we’ll all enjoy our dinners.” John-
son put down the glass he had raised
to his lips without replying.
The fact was, however, that I was
like Johnson. I was soft from my
week’s inaction, and I was pretty well
done up. McKnight, who was a well-
spring of vitality and high spirits, or-
dered a strange concoction, made of
nearly everything in the bar, and sent
it over to the detective, but Johnson
refused it.
“I hate that kind of person,” Mc-
Knight said pettishly. “Kind of a fel-
low that thinks you’re going to poison
his dog if you offer him a bone.”
When we got to the car line, with
Johnson a draggled and drooping tail
to the kite, I was in better spirits. I
had told McKnight the story of the
three hours just after the wreck; I
had not named the girl, of course; she
had my promise of secrecy. But I told
him everything else. It was a relief
to have a fresh mind on it: I had puz-
zled so much over the incident at the
farm-house, and. the necklace in the
gold bag, that i had lost perspective.
He had been interested, but inclined
;to amused, , until I cams _ta.
A delightful dessert is made by lin*
ing the sides of a mold with sponge
cake and the bottom with sliced ba-
nanas. Fill the mold with stiff whip-
ped cream. Set on the ice till ready to
serve.
row passage bemna us, nacs or the
boxes. At the end there was a door
leading into the wings, and as we
went boldly through I turned the key.j
The final set was being struck, and
no one, paid any attention to us. Luck-
ily they were similarly indifferent to
a banging at the door I had locked,
a banging which, I judged, signified
Johnson.
“I guess we’ve broken up his inter*
ference,” McKnight chuckled.
Stage hands were hurrying in every
direction; pieces of the side wall oi
the last drawing room menaced us; a
switchboard behind us was singing
like a tea-kettle. Everywhere we
stepped we were in somebody’s way.,
At last we were across, confronting a
man in his shirt sleeves, who by dota
and dashes of profanity seemed to be
directing the chaos.
“Well?” he said, wheeling
“What can I do for you?”
“I 'would like to ask,” I replied, “if
you have any idea just where the last
cinematograph picture was taken.”
“Broken board—picnickers—lake?”
“No. The Washington Flier.”
He glanced atjny bandaged arm.
“The announcement says two
miles,” McKnight put in, “but we
should like to know whether it is rail-
road miles, automobile miles, or po-
liceman miles.”
“I am sorry I can’t tell you,” he re»
plied, more civilly. “We get those pic-
tures by contract. We don’t take them
ourselves.”
“Where are the company’s offices?”
“New York.” He stepped forward
and grasped a super by the shoulder.
“What in blazes are you doing with
that gold chair in a kitchen set? Take
that piece of pink plush there and
throw it over a soap box, if you have
not got a kitchen chair.”
I had not realized the extent of the
shock, but now I dropped into a chair
and wiped my forehead. The unex-
pected glimpse of Alison West fol-
lowed almost immediately by the rev-
elation of the picture, had left me
limp and unnerved. McKnight was
looking at his watch.
“He says the moving picture peo-
ple have an office down-town. We can
make it if we go on now.”
So he called a cab, and we started
There was no sign of
word,”
lonely without
T
Eastern Office;
JOHN P^SMART,
Representative, 150 Nassau Street,
Room 628, New York City.
,®i—smaa ' '■
TERMS OF SUBSCR^TION
©Silvered by carrier or by mail, postage
prepaid:
SOONER WE START THE BETTER.
As Browning puts it, “many a man
who aims at a million misses tha unit.”
We get in this world what we go after,
and the sooner we start the better.
t
Let us make up our minds that to
keep at work with all one’s might is a
better thing than to contemplate crit-
ically the unremitting industry of some
one else. And when have chosen
our work, let us not change it lightly
for an occupation which at first blush
seems more congenial. . Whatever we
make up our minds to do, let us in-
flexibly and resolutely persevere in the
doing.
jonnson just Denina — tna
proposition in Washington.”
He gravely bought three tickets and
presented the detective with one.
Then we went in. Having lived a nor-
mal, busy life, the theater in the aft-1
ernoon is to me about on a par with;
ice cream for breakfast. Up on the ■
stage a very stout woman in short
pink skirts, with a smile that Me-!
Knight declared looked like a slash m
a roll of butter, was singing nasally,
with a laborious kick at the end ofi
each verse. Johnson, two rows ahead,
went to sleep. McKnight prodded me
with his elbow.
“Look at the first box to the right,”
he said, in a stage whisper. “ I want
you to come over at the end of this
act.”
It was the first time I had seen her
since I put her in the cab at Balti-
more. Outwardly I presume I was
calm, for no one turned to stare at
me, but every atom of me cried out
at the sight of her. She was lean-
ing, bent forward, lips slightly parted,
gazing raptly at the Japanese con-
jurer who had replaced what Mc-
Knight disrespectfully called the Col-
umns of Hercules. Compared with the
draggled lady of the farm house, she
was radiant.
For that first moment there was
nothing but joy at the sight of her.
McKnight’s touch on my arm brought
me back to reality.
“Come over and meet them,” he
said. “That’s the cousin Miss West
is visiting, Mrs. Dallas.”
But I would not go. After he went
I sat there alone, painfully conscious
that I was being pointed out and
stared at from the box. The abomin-
able Japanese gave way to yet more
atrocious performing dogs.
“How many offers of marriage will
the young lady in the box have?” The
dog stopped sagely at “none,” and
then pulled out a card that said eight.
Wild shouts of glee by the audience.
“The fools,” I muttered.
After a little I glanced over. Mrs.
Dallas was talking to McKnight, but
she was looking straight at me. She
was flushed, but more calm than I,
and she did not bow. I fumbled for
my hat, but the next moment I saw
that they were going,-and I sat still.
When McKnight came back he was
triumphant.
“I’ve made an engagement for you,”
he said. “Mrs. Dallas asked me to,
bring you to dinner to-night, and I
said I knew you would fall all over
You are requested to
bring along the broken arm, and any
other souvenirs of the wreck that you
may possess.” ”S
“I’ll do nothing of the sort,” I de-
clared, struggling against my inclina-
tion. “I can’t even tie my necktie,
and I have to have my food cut for
me.”
“Oh, that’s all right,” he said eas-
ily. “I’ll send Stogie over to fix you
.up, and Mrs. Dal knows all about the
arm. I told her.”
(Stogie is his Japanese factotum, so
called because he is lean, a yellowish
brown in color, and because he claims,
to have been shipped into this country
in a box.)
The cinematograph was finishing
the program. The house was dark and
the music had stopped, as it does in
the circus just before somebody risks
his neck at so much a neck in the dip
of death, or the hundred-foot dive.
Then, with a sort of shock, I saw on
the white curtain the announcement:
THE NEXT PICTURE
IS THE DOOMED WASHINGTON
FLIER, TAKEN
TANCE FROM
THE WRECK '
MORNING OF __________
TENTH. TWO MILES FARTHER !
ON IT MET WITH ALMOST COM- ,
PLETE ANNIHILATION.
I confess to a return of some of the
sickening sensations of the wreck;
people around me were leaning for-
ward with tense faces. Then the let-
ters were gone and I saw a long lev-
el stretch of track, even the broken
stone between the ties standing out
Far off under a cloud of
smoke a small object was rushing to-
• as
“And There’s Johnson Just Behind,
the Coolest Proposition in Wash-
ington.”
We walked along in silence until
we caught the car back to town.
“Well,” he said finally, “you know
the girl, of course, and I don’t. But
if you like her—and I think myself
you’re rather hard hit, old man—I
wouldn’t give a whoop about the chain
in the gold purse. It’s just one of the
little coincidences that hang people;
now and then. And as for last night
—if she’s the kind of a girl you say
she is, and you think she had any-
thing to do with
addled, that’s all.
on it, the lady of the empty house last
week is the lady of last night. And
yet your train acquaintance was in
Altoona at that time.”
Just before we got off the car, I re-
verted to the subject again. It was
never far back in my mind.
“About the—young lady of the train,
Rich,” I said, with what I suppose was
elaborate carelessness, “I don’t want
you to get a wrong impression. I am
rather unlikely to see her again, but
even if I do, I—I believe she is al-
ready ‘bespoke,’ or next thing to it.”
He made no reply, but as I opened!
the door with my latch-key he
stood looking up at me from the pave-'
ment with his quizzical smile. ,
“Love is like the measles,” he orat-,
ed. “The older you get it, the worse,
the attack.” ;
Johnson did not appear again that;
day. A small man in a raincoat took;
his place. The next morning I made.
my initial trip to file office, the rain-
coat still on hand. I had a short con-!
ference with Miller, the district at-'
torney, at 11. Bronson was under sur-:
veillance, he said, and any attempt to;
sell the notes to him would probably!
result in their recovery. In the mean-;
time; as I knew, the Commonwealth i
had continued the case, in hope of i
such, contingency. !
At noon I left the office and took a'
veterinarian to see Candida, the in-
By one o’clock my first
day’s duties were performed, and a!
long Sahara qf hot afternoon >
stretched ahead. McKnight, alwaysj
glad to escape from the grind, sug-
gested a vaudeville, and in sheer,
ennui I consented. I could. neither
ride, drive nor golf, and my own com-
pany bored me to distraction.
“Coolest place in town these days,”
he declared. “Electric fans, breezy;
gongs, airy costumes. And ^here’s, j Knight, and we wheeled into the nar-!
Probably the most cogent reason yet
advanced for the increased cost of liv-
ing is the tremendous waste charac-
teristic of the American individual and
the American family. The very fact
that nature seems to have emptied her
horn of plenty on that portion of the
globe designated as America, has ap-
parently had the effect, of making our
people reckless with regard to not only
the necessities but even the luxuries
of life, and the result has been a grad-
ual decrease in the quantity of our
products until, we are assured by the
authorities in such matters, we have
about reached the limit.
In looking about for a standard of
comparison in this connection atten-
tion has been called to the practices of
the French people who have the repu-
tation of being the riches nation of all
the countries of earth, not
! quantity of gold produced
mines, not from her great
tures, but from the thrifty
the nation’s citizenship. They hav.e
learned to love on a fraction of what
It takes to support an American, and
history has handed down no record of
a famine ever having visited France.
.While the argument may be advanced
that neither has America known a
famine, we have the authority of Mr.
J. J. Hill for stating that the country
has arrived dangerously near to the
line where consumption meets produc-
tion.
But again referring to France as the
model of practical economy, it is
learned that the French people do not
limit their practice of saving or con-
servation to the domestic circle, but
having learned the value of the practice
in the homesfchave engrafted the idea
upon the nation until one might say
that every drop of water ^and every
grain of soil is inventoried an# ac-
The French people have
learned that every weed takes from
the soil sufficient nouishment to grow
and make perfect a food-making veg-
etable, and it is an offense against the
law of that country to permit a weed
V
to go to seed, while here in free Amer-
ica we are so fond of weeds that we
grow them on our sidewalks and would
resent as an infringement upon our
personal liberties any attempt by the
health authorities to compel us to
clean up.
We prate largely about conserving
our remaining forests and have led
ourselves to believe that conservation
meant keeping the lumber pirate from
cutting all the growing timber. The
Frenchman understands conservation to
mean the removal from the forests of
every weed, sucker or vine that would
rob the growing tree of its proper ma-
terial for development,
man’s understanding of
of the soil is not to keep it from get-
ting into .the hands of land barons,
but to parcel it out so as to give em-
ployment to many and the many to
make it yield the more abundantly.
Then again the American people have
brought themselves to believe .that
economy was but another name for
self-denial and that consequently when
one wished to be economical it meant
the cutting off of a number of articles
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Galveston Tribune. (Galveston, Tex.), Vol. 30, No. 179, Ed. 1 Thursday, June 23, 1910, newspaper, June 23, 1910; (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth1409257/m1/4/: accessed July 12, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu.; crediting Rosenberg Library.