Galveston Tribune. (Galveston, Tex.), Vol. 39, No. 49, Ed. 1 Wednesday, January 22, 1919 Page: 4 of 10
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WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 22, 1919.
GALVESTON TRIBUNE.
FOUR
Poetry and Persiflage
THE SEED OF THE RIGHTEOUS
—By—
JULIET WILBOR TOMPKINS
/
CAMOUFLAGE
■—May Hunt Affleck.
8
a
began from
SANCTUM SIFTINGS
SO
—Houston Post.
Then
won’t
%
“You have a lovely diamond pin
Sabra,
but
From the manner in which the Brit-
ish are discussing the proposition, it
So far we have heard no dissenting
opinion in regard to the desirability of
hauling the kaiser out of Holland and
bringing him before the bar of justice..
Butter is selling for 40c a pound at
Brussels, which serves to remind us
that the burden of war still bears heav-
ily on the brave little nation.
play;”
height
human-
I eye my pipe and think of spring
So far away and wish her nigh.
I miss her so that when I sing
I pipe my eye.
great
a
Dilly Dunnyand lisTniends,,
. Gy David Cory _
sxsteseep-cawacvanie-exusueerureaicusubtlsurnmnqumvuy reorcetravltiseresrerseocererrsaonrrsunne-roer
German Thoroughness.
A Disappointed Irishman.
News of mild election shindies in Ire-
land recalls the protest made by a voter
to Lord Charles Beresford when he cap-
tured Waterford forty years ago.
“You’re no man,” declared the elector
indignantly.
Lord Charles begged to differ, and de-
manded explanation.
"Arrah, then,” was the reply, “the last
time one of your family stood for the
country it’s up to me ankles I was in
blood and up to me brains in whisky,
but divil a drop av ayther I’ve seen this
time.”—Manchester Guardian.
Unusual, to Say the Least.
Mrs. Carrie Washburn of West Park
sustained a broken collar bone and five
others were bruised as the result of a
collision of an automobile in which they
were riding with a coal wagon on Lin-
wood avenue.—Sandusky, O., Register.
What one might expect with a coal
wagon for company.—Youngstown Tele-
gram.
On hig finance I like to do
An editorial wise and solemn;
But ever cries the boss, “Hey, you.
Back to, your funny column!”
•—Cleveland Plain Dealer.
Helped the Old Man Out.
“Do you suppose Mr. Hoover will ever
be forgotten?”
“Not so long as Mr. Dubwaite lives,”
said Mrs. Dubwaite.
“He’s a great admirer of the food
administrator, I presume?”
“Yes, Mr. Dubwaite has learned that
Mr. Hoover has a name to conjure with
when the children want a second help-
ing at the table.”—Birmingham Age-
Herald.
Eastern Offices.
New York Office, 341 Fifth Ave.
D. J. 'Randall.
Chicago, St. Louis and Detroit Offices,
The S. C. Beckwith Agency.
Copyright 1916 by
THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY
Pipes.
The pipe of peace is heaven-sent.
The world now puffs and scorns the
type
That wields, to settled argument,
A piece of pipe. «*
At gunny stuff we try our hand—
Our readers say, “You weary us.
Don’t you,” they ask us, “understand
You’re best when you are serious?”
—Springfield Union.
The pipes of Pan I fain would hear;
The piping birds of many types, 1
And but a cynic dour, ’tis clear.
Would pan the pipes.
And talk to them in serious vein
They shriek,'“Oh, dad, you are
funny!”
hard, strange eyes, knowing that some-
thing lay dead between them. “If that
is the way you see us, there is nothing
more to be said,” she rushed on. “My
mother is the biggest person I have
ever known. When you are big enough
to understand her, you can come back
and apologize. Till then—” A sob rose,
sucking all the breath out of her body.
“Oh, I never want to see you again!”
she cried, and went swiftly away.
For perhaps the first time in her
grown life, Chloe passed her father’s
statue with no consciousness of its
The oft-quoted statement that revo-
lutions never move backwards is being
challenged in Portugal, where it Is stat-
ed that the royalists of that republic
have started a movement toward re-
seating former King Manuel on the
throne. The ex-king Intimates that he
is not in sympathy with the proposi-
tion, which appears to be fostered and
supported by some over-zealous indi-
viduals who cannot become reconciled
to the new order of things in the way
of government.
Chloe, hurt
his touch
In your tie of crimson hue,
And your bright pink vest is really the
best
I’ve ever seen on you,”
she sang, and this pleased Uncle Lucky
so much that he almost forgot all about
the Luckymobile. And I guess he would
have if the Stagecoach Dog hadn't said,
“I see the footprints of a fox." And
when he said that both the little rabbits
nearly jumped over their ears.
“Daddy Fox has been here and stolen
the Luckymobile,” they cried, and in
the next story you shall hear what hapa
I pened after that
“Stop!”
a stone,
looking
Member of the Associated Press.
The Associated Press is exclusively entitled to
the use for republication of all news dispatches
credited to it or not otherwise credited in this
paper, and also the local news published herein.
Squelched. 1
I like to raise my voice in song
Whenever I get half a chance,
But some gink always says, “You’re
wrong,
Old top, I think you’d better dance.”
—Youngstown Telegram.
Contrary to what might have been
expected, Mr. Buba is not the represen-
tative of the liquor interests in the
Hungarian cabinet. He is merely the
minister of agriculture.
United States army officials, in ask-
ing congress for an appropriation cov-
ering the feeding of the soldiers,, re-
quest that they be allowed an advance
of ten per cent over the present prices,
explaining that it is believed food prices
will be higher next year because the
food administration will have with-
drawn its protection and dealers will
make their own prices. But who is go-
ing to allow the average citizen the
ten per cent increase covering the ad-
she asked, rather timidly.
“Paternity is
the family
The German is nothing if not thor-
ough. A German and a Swiss were dis-
cussing efficiency. The Swiss said:
“This is my idea of efficiency,” and
produced a picture. It represented an
exceedingly stout woman engaged in
rocking the cradle with one foot and
operating a fanning device to keep the
baby cool with the other foot; she was
reading a book held in a rack while she
knitted, and at the same time sang a
lullaby..
The German looked at the picture and
snorted disdainfully.
“Good heaven, man,” said the Swiss
in astonishment, “what else on earth
could she do?”
"Vell, she weighs maybe a couple of
hunnerd pounds,” said the German. “She
could be compressing cheese by sitting
on it, couldn’t she?”
ston, Alex,” she reproached him.
there was an explosion:
“Lord God, what that man
take!”
Dog started off, and by and by they
came to the Friendly Forest.. But, oh
dear me. No sooner Had they looked
around where they had left the Lucky-
mobile than a voice began to sing:
"Oh, some one came along today
And took the Luckymobile away;
But where they went I do not know,
So you'd better follow the tracks in the
snow.”
“That’s very nice of you to tell us,”
said the old gentleman rabbit, “but who
are you?” And then a pretty little
snowbird flew down from a tree and
perched on the rim of Uncle Lucky’s
old wedding stovepipe hat. And then
she peeked under the brim and smiled
at the old gentleman rabbit.
Now let me see. In the last story the
Scarecrow was at Uncle Lucky’s house
making a call. He had just asked the
old gentleman rabbit to give him a job
at the bank, you remember, but Uncle
Lucky has said all his clerks had nice
new suits and didn’t look like old
clothes men. Which was perfectly true,
for Uncle Lucky paid his clerks more
than Henry Ford does his, which is an
awful lot, let me tell you, although the
old gentleman rabbit hadn’t made his
son the president of the bank, for he
didn’t have any son, you see.
“I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” said Uncle
Lucky after a while. “If you want to
work here you can sweep out the barn
and keep the Luckymobile clean and
feed the pigeons. The Old Red Rooster
is going away. He wants to learn the
carpenter trade.”
“All right,” said the Scarecrow, “I’ll
. start right in,” and he went out to the
garage. But, oh, dear me. In about
two seconds he came back and said the
Luckymobile wasn’t there. And, then,
all of a sudden, Uncle Lucky and Billy
Bunny remembered that they had left
the Luckymobile all alone in, the
Friendly Forest. And when I come to
think of it, that’s just what they did
do in the three or four stories ago.
“Well, I guess we’d better go after
it,” said the old gentleman rabbit, so
he and Billy Bunny and the Stagecoach
refuse! Don’t join in on
graft!”
The last word was fatal,
beyond bearing, flung off
presence. Her feet took her home, but
she saw and heard nothing until from
an open window a voice of husky relief
shouted her name. Billy had seen his
Toto’s vanishing hat and known himself
deserted, and his broad face was sod-
den with tears, but already, at sight of
her, a forgiving light was dawning.
“I’m here, Toto,” he faltered.
Hearts may break and kingdoms fall,
but babies must be comforted. Toto
put away self, sorrowfully kissing the
grieved face, and hand in hand they
made the mighty pilgrimage.
“Toto ran away from me, but she
came back,” Billy told his grandfather
with a lingering hiccough.
The level sunbeams threw a dim
glory on the sculptured face: Sereno
Gage might have been uttering some
fine old reassurance beginning with,
“Inasmuch—” Chloe did not get the
message, but the little boy’s clinging
hand made life more bearable.
THE WESTERN GATE.
With life I have journeyed long and
late,
And now I am close to its western gate.
The years that I left in the distant
clime
Are phantoms that come in this twi-
light time.
With sorrows I met on the long high-
way,
And idols of joy with their feet of
clay.
Though sheaves of my life may be in-
complete,
The Lord will not measure tares with
the wheat,
For he knows that in weakness my
faith was great,
As’I journeyed down to this western
gate.
The knowledge is sweet that my child
tonight
Is dwelling with him in the land of
light,
And lovingly waits to welcome me
there.
As I stand in old age’s twilight gray.
With life sandals loosed for end of the
way.
The years have been long in this sor-
rowland, «
Since I lost the clasp of her dimpled
hand,
When she went to lay at the holy feet,
Her lily of life so white and sweet.
I will find her again in ev’ning late,
When the Lord shall, open my western
gate!
vanced cost of living next year? It
begins to look as if the army was about
the only place left where a fellow could
connect with three square meals a day
and not go bankrupt by the operation.
Came in Somewhere.
Little Johnny was watching his
mother knit; suddenly he said: ‘-‘Mother,
are you making a dammet?”
"A what?” she inquired.
“Why a dammet, like Aunt Helen
was making.”
“This is a helmet, dear, if that is
what you mean,” she replied.
“Well,” said the little fellow, “I
knew there was some swear word about
it.”—Orange Peel.
Since an end has come to military op-
erations, and since the submarines have
been anchored where' they will do no
more harm to merchant vessels, very
little has been heard about the art of
camouflage, which, during the contin-
uance of the hostilities, made important
contribution to, the history of the great
war. But it appears that the art has
found a new field of operation, not in
making more safe the life and property
of a nation, but in securing honors
at a very slight outlay of time and
at no financial expense whatever.
During the war savings stamp sales
of last year there was established what
was termed a roll of honor on which
was inscribed the names of those per-
sons who purchased to the limit al-
lowed the individual. All over the state
people enrolled as purchasers of cer-
tificates which in the year 1923 would
bring them the sum of one thousand
dollars, and these individuals were
looked upon as being,hot only the for-
tunate possessors of a thousand dol-
lars, but as possessing a patriotic spirit
worthy of being emulated.- Other peo-
ple invested in war savings stamps and
the locality in which the purchases
were made were credited with having
“gone over the top” and complimented
on the splendid spirit shown by the cit-
izens in co-operating with the govern-
ment in financing the war.
But it now appears that while the
purchases were actually made, the
stamps were not retained, but were
immediately offered for redemption un-
der a provision of the law authorizing
the issue of the stamps. From the
Austin postoffice, where these stamps
must be sent to be redeemed, comes
the j information that an “enormous
amount of war savings stamps are be-
ing cashed in by the people of Texas.”
The story as sent out states that in nu-
merous instances the person who sub-
scribed for the maximum of stamps
would immediately file an application
for their redemption, and in some in-
stances, where pledges to take the
maximum were made, the purchaser
would file application for redemption
before he actually became possessor
of the stamps, but would retain pos-
session of his cash until a few days
before his application would be acted
upon and then purchase.
All the benefit that would accrue to
the individual indulging in this camou-
flage was a bit of local notoriety, for
the stamps were not held long enough
to earn even one month's interest, but
the place on the “honor roll” had been
obtained and this indicated the depth
of the patriotism of the person guilty
of this practice. It was the desire of
the government that these stamps be
held by the purchaser until they had
matured, giving the government the
use of the money, for which a liberal
rate of interest had been provided, and
the redemption of the stamps, while
it cannot be said to have hampered
the government, might have done even
this serious damage. The provision
made for the redemption of the stamps
was for those who might find them-
selves compelled to have the money and
was never intended to provide some
person with a means for securing a
bit of cheap “honor.”
It was perhaps unfortunate that those
who formulated the war savings stamp
idea did not provide for the publication
of the names of those who immediately
after purchase filed application for re-
demption; it may have curtailed some-
what the sale of the securities, but
those who purchased would have been
true citizens who did not seek to get
on the “honor roll” as much as they
desired, in a small way, but to the ex-
tent of their ability, to back the author-
ities in administering the knock-out
blow to the Hun.
One might find an excuse for a
sporadic instance of this character on
the grounds of mental deficiency, but
where the statement is made that “en-
ormous, quantities” were involved, it
assumes the appearance of a premedi-
tated purpose on part of many people
to take advantage of the existing con-
ditions to gain something to which they
had no moral claim. Thegaction of
the stamp redeemers in this instance
presents the appearance of enemy ac-
tivity rather than the milder sugges-
tion that an effort was being made to
secure publicity and popular approval
at a slight cost.
would indicate that most of the states-
men believe with Tennyson: “Half a
league, half a league, half a league.”
Madame Catherine Breshkovskaya,
who is known as the grandmother of
the Russian revolution, says Russia will
never again be ruled by an autocrat,
and in making the statement she prob-
ably looked into the future, beyond the
dynasty of Lenine and Trotsky, for
from what can be learned, never did
a Russian czar rule with so despotic a
sway as that employed by the bol-
sheviki leaders. The people of other
portions of the globe might be disposed
to manifest deeper interest in Russia
did not the Russians, themselves, ap-
pear to be infatuated with the sort of
government being administered by the
two self-appointed political leaders
who hold power merely because they
have managed to secure control of the
food supply, and it has reached the
stage where one must become a bol-
shevik or starve. Russia must indi-
cate a purpose of doing her part to-
ward world uplift before anything stat-
ed on behalf of that nation or its people
will be given consideration.
A Pessimist on Husbands.
Speaking of a profiteer, a senator
.said:
The man is not typical. If he were
typical then I’d despair. I’d grow as
pessimistic as the middle-aged lady.
“A salesman was selling a bedroom
clock to a pretty girl.
“‘I recommend this clock with its
illuminating attachment to switch on,*
he said. “It's a very good thing to tell
what time your husband comes home,
you know.’
“ ‘But I haven’t got a husband,’ said
the pretty girl.
“ ‘Oh, but you will have some day,*
said the salesman.
“Then it was that the middle-aged
lady stepped forward.
“‘My dear child, they’re all that
kind,’ she said. ‘Young man, I’ll take
that clock.’”—Washington Star.
CHAPTER V.
Chloe had made her choice, had cast
in her lot with her family. For them
she had put away love and denied the
deepest instinct of her being, and there
was no hour in the bitter days that
followed when she would not have done
the same; yet never had she felt so
alien to them, or so longed to get away.
She could die for her family, but it
was borne in upon her that she could
not eternally live with them.
The yacht became her hope now, the
promise of escape, and she waited for
the summons as she, waited for Alex.
The day it came, she flew about the
house like a young whirlwind. A noisy
Chloe was something new, and Mrs.
Gage glowed with approval.
“Chloe hasn’t had enough young life,”
she confided to Sabra. “We don’t realize
how Billy has tied her down. I am so
glad you can take him for her, dear.
I should have loved to if I weren’t
pledged to the Diet Kitchen.”
Sabra looked up from a club register
she was studying. “It is a pity his class
stops,” she said. “If Lizzie were more
willing—”
“Well, she will have a good deal of
work, with Chloe away,” Mrs. Gage
admitted. “Besides, she isn’t kind to
Billy—it wouldn’t do. But I can nearly
always take him after three. And he
will be a nice rest for you, dear; you
have done so much public work.”
Sabra started to speak, but the sound
of Chloe’s light feet on the stairs closed
her lips. Presently she put away the
register, together with a bundle of
time tables that she had been looking
over.
“Pleasure seems so unimportant when
you have put your shoulder to real
work,” she said, rising. “I have called a
special board meeting, mother; I may
be kept late.”
Mrs. Gage looked apprehensive. “Is is
about putting on that. dreadful play?”
Explained.
He had been drafted to a cavalry
regiment, and was having his first rid-
ing lesson.
“ ’Ere’s your ’orse,” cried the instruc-
tor.
The recruit advanced, took the bridle
gingerly, and examined his mount with
great care.
“What’s it got this strap around it
for?”
“Well,” explained the instructor, “you
see, all our ’orses ’ave a keen sense of
’umor, an’ as they sometimes 'ave sud-
den fits of laughter when they see the
recruits, we put them bands round ’em
to keep ’em from bustin’ their sides.—
Tit-Bits. (
7 a
So let’s smoke up! The war is o’er
And spring is coming, gentle, folk!
And all the troubled times of yore
Gone up in smoke!
—Philadelphia Evening Ledger.
Prohibition and woman suffrage ap-
pear to be favorite measures with tho
state lawmakers. Just as fast as the
parliamentary machinery will permit,
these two propositions are being passed
to where the people will be permitted
to say whether or not they are to be-
come a part of the constitution of the
state. So popular did the prohibition
amendment prove to be that only one
vote was cast against it when the
house reached the voting stage. And
at one time Texas was considered to
be the stronghold of the liquor busi-
ness.
“You have no right to call it that!”
For the first time he lost ‘his self-
command. “Don’t you suppose that
others do? Chloe, it’s a byword, it’s a
joke—the Gage way! Oh, I see your
mother’s fineness, but, for all that, she
is the grandest old grafter----”
THE TURNING OF THE TIDE.
Fort Worth Star-Telegram.
The killing of Karl Liebknecht and
Rosa Luxemburg, the two leaders of
the Spartacus group of Reds, in Berlin,
is of international significance. If, as
appears, it proves to be the final tri-
umph of the moderates over bolshevism
in Germany it means the beginning of
the end of bolshevism throughout Eu-
rope. The news of their death, especial-
ly themanner of the murder of Rosa
Luxemburg, will carry a message of
terror to Petrograd, for Lenine had
staked everything on the success of
the bolshevik element in Germany. If
bolshevism has been suppressed in Ger-
many and if it is kept down its over-
throw in Russia is inevitable.
It was Lenine who first laid down the
proposition that the proletarian revolu-
tion must become a world revolution
or be crushed in Russia. That was the
inevitable corollary of his conception
of the ideal society as a dictatorship
of the working class. The very soul of
bolshevism is that society must have
a ruling class, and that the working
class must either rule or be ruled. It
has nothing in common with democ-
racy. It believes in despotism. Adhering
to this view, Lenine could not escape
the conclusion that such a despotism of
the proletariat could not be maintained
in any single country—that it must be-
come ‘the order of the world. It was
this that made him a world revolution-
ist with the dictatorship of the working
class as the goal.
Moreover, he recognized that the tri-
umph of this program in Germany was
the next essential step. Germany stands
between Russia and the West. Unless
Germany could be won to the cause of
bolshevism, the tide would turn the
other way. That is the way Lenine
reasoned, and his reasoning in that re-
spect at least was based upon actual
conditions.
Last October Lenine declared in a
public address that bolshevism must
triumph in Germany or go down in
Russia. It now appears that it has
failed in Germany— whether finally or
not, remains to be seen—and we may
expect the antibolshevik elements in
Russia now to take heart again and re-
action against the Lenine government
to set in.
Reports have come out of Russia of a
split between Lenine and Trotsky, but
there has been no confirmation of this.
Whether it is true or not does not
affect the chief factor in the situation,
which is that for the present at least
Germany stands barring the way
against the progress of bolshevism in
in Europe. If the program to ship food
into Southeastern Europe is carried out
without delay we may say that the
doom of bolshevism has been sounded.
For Lenine is right: bolshevism and
democracy cannot exist together in the
same world for any length of time.
GALVESTON TRIBUNE
================== ESTABLISHED 1880 =============----
Published Evenings Except Sunday at the Tribune Building.
Entered at the Postoffice in Galveston as Second-Class Mail Matter.
FT F Q Business Office and Adv. Dept. S3, Circulation Dept. 1306.
TELEPTON L. Editorial Rooms 49 and 1395, Society Editor 2524.
The word
and then
at each
And when we would be dignified
Before our daughters young and
sunny
Chloe recoiled, her face paling. “Why
shouldn't he take----”
“Why shouldn’t he hold up a woman
who has no one to---" Alex broke
off, to go on more gently, though all
his physical being was still angrily
stiffened. “Look here, Chloe, we’ve got
to have this thing out: I’ve dodged as
long as I can. Now I’m going to say
everything I feel, once for all.”
They had turned away from home
into a street of dingy warehouses, al-
ready shuttered for the night. In the
sudden stillness, the gaunt walls closed
about them like some dreadful court-
room where sentence was to be
pronounced. Chloe tried to fight off
the oppression.
“You always object to everything,”
she flung at him; “but I thought even
you would be pleased at this. Why can’t
Mrs. Cartaret do what she likes with
her own money?”
He ignored her tone. “I’ll tell you
why. Helena Cartaret is without ques-
tion a lovely lady; the only' thing she
lacks is brains. She is no more capable,
of judging the value of a play than
Billy is. To let her back it without
some cool, outside indorsement is plain
highway robbery. Ralston may be the
greatest genius of the age, but he
. — By Carrier or Mail, Postage Prepaid, Per
Ciher vint inn R a tec Week, 15c; Per Month, 50c; Per rear,
DuDscriptioi D.aleo $5.50, jn advance. _______
Member American Newspaper Publishers Ass'n. Southern Newspaper Publishers
Ass’n, and Audit Bureau of Circulations.
The put-yourself-in-his-place admo-
nition always annoyed Ralston. He had
been born feeling himself something
special and set apart, one of nature’s
princes, to whom the leveling advice
could not apply; and yet, when others
did not recognize this, he had no means
of asserting it.
“Oh, tell him if you like,” he said,
turning away.
Chloe had been longing for some such
opportunity. She and her father both
knew that Alex loved her; why should
the lovely spring go by, wasted? Alex's
bad temper must vanish if they came
together again, and Chloe, brave and
bright in her new power, meant to have
no more nonsense.
“Stupid boy, staying away!” she
silently scolded him as she straightened
her hat over laughing' eyes. She could
intercept him on his way home if she
hurried. It was Billy’s hour for saying
good night to his grandfather, but for
once Chloe did not want her little boy.
She slipped out uncaught.
Alex would pass the statue, so she
went out to the peaceful fittle island in
the traffic, whence she could watch
both sidewalks. A girl could wait un-
noticed in this shabby old corner of the
town. Neighbors, passing, greeted her
with city gaiety. The world was hot
and dusty, tired with the day’s work,
but the jest and the laugh accompanied
homing feet like an organ grinder’s
tune. A horse balked, and the entire
street stopped to grin and to help. Two
taxicabs grazed wheels, and their
chauffeurs, polite backs to their farces,
foiled eyes and puffed cheeks at each
other over the eternal joke of the close
shave. A truckman and a teamster
bawled witticisms across the traffic.
They could all be savage enough on
provocation; but meanwhile they were
gay, the city wine bubbling in their
veins, and touchingly patient under dif-
ficulties, and Chloe, city child that she
was, felt a joyous tremor of response
to the rough fellowship. No doubt evil
and despair stalked the streets, but it
was the kindness and the laughter that
one saw.
“My city---” an inarticulate song
was streaming through her heart. “My
city—my father—my love —”
Her love was coming. Chloe watched
him with a quick rising of possessive
pride. She longed to point him out to
the whole street: "See; that is my
Alex! Isn’t he splendid! Look at the
strength of him: Did you ever see such
blue eyes? And his hair isn’t red—it’s
a warm brown. He is so fine and able,
and yet such fun! Oh, you don’t know!
He looks sad and stern tonight, but
that’s—watch him now, when I speak
to him!”
She went to meet him, but she had to
say his name before he was aware of
her. Then the whole street might have
seen that he started; but the greeting
that followed seemed to deny it.
“Oh, hello, Chloe!” It was the friendly
cousin of all her life who spoke, not the
lover she had been building up. Chloe
had no time to see how badly she was
hurt. She was too busy being even
more cousinly than he.
“Hello, Alex. I was waiting for you.
I have something to tell you, something
perfectly great. Come down here where
it is quieter.”
They turned into a side street, and
Chloe, very blithe and blooming, told
of Mrs. Cartaret’s splendid act and of
the family glory to come when poor old
Rawley, at last, got his chance. The
tale demanded enthusiasm, but Alex
heard it with lowered eyes and a grim
mouth.
“It is going to be a Stunning produc-
tion,” she insisted, and piled it up for
him, but could get no response. “You
might at least be a little glad for Ral-
hasn’t given any convincing sign of it
yet and he has had no stage experi-
ence. And she isn’t a very rich woman.
Twenty or thirty thousand dollars will
matter to her. How are you all going
to feel if it is a,flat failure?”
The ground seemed to be dropping
away under Chloe’s feet; but she clung
to her anger. “Suppose she wanted to
back your dynamo thing—wouldn’t you
let her?”
“No!” He almost shouted it. “Not if
she knew the whole subject and could
judge its value for herself. A woman
in her position hasn’t any way to re-
place her money. The man who gambles
with it gambles with her whole life’s
freedom. How any one with a spark of
recency can take it----” .
"Nearly every successful artist has!
Look at Wagner---”
“Oh, ‘look at Wagner’! Every year
some lovely lady looks at Wagner, and
as a result some good-for-nothing fel-
low with a half talent is dawdling and
drinking in Paris at her expense. ‘Look
at Wagner!’ That’s the war-cry of
every gifted loafer who doesn’t feel like
earning his own chance.”
“But Ralston couldn’t earn his own
chance—do be fair, Alex!” she cried.
“You don’t understand what he is. Ar
office would be death for him.”
“Yes; he’d be bored to death. I mean
it, literally,” he insisted at her angry
start. “He has decided from the first
that he was to sing for his supper; to
have to drudge "for it, now, like other
men—he would fall ill and die of sheer
exasperation. Well, he will never have
to. There will always be some woman
to carry him on.”
They had reached the end of the
block, and turned slowly back. “But
you are putting money above every-
thing else!” Chloe spoke the word
“money” with young contempt, but he
answered patiently:
“Ah, Chloe, wait till you have had to
earn a living—just a living for one per-
son; pile it up day by day, get a little
ahead, then have an illness or an acci-
dent, pay it all out and begin over
again, and all the time know that the
day will come when you can’t work—■
try that, and then you will say ‘money’
in a different tone. That’s the common
lot, Toto, for the average man or
woman who doesn't live on some one
else. Oh, it isn’t that I don’t see the
bigness of art, compared to money. And
real talent has often got to be helped—■
I’ll grant that. What I can’t stand is
seeing the help worked out of soft and
sentimental ignorance. Suppose Ralston
has great talen; let him get the in-
dorsement of competent' judges be-
fore----”
“But Sotuhern nearly took a play of
his, you know that,” she burst in.
“Well, he kept it several months and
wrote a delightful letter of rejection,
Oh, Chloe, I want you to see this thing;
as it is!” They stopped, unaware of the
blank street about them. “It has al-
ways come between us. Your father
was a great man, and the world was so
appreciative of him that it has half
ruined his other children. You came a
little too late, thank heaven, but you
are so loyal to your family that even
you—Toto, it’s the most insidious dan-
ger in the world, to learn to take!” He
had clasped her arm, and his eyes were
calling on her for a great decision.
“You can’t do it indefinitely and not be
corrupted, not begin to think what you
can get out of every person and every
situation, nd it makes you the under-
dog—Chloe, Chloe, you needn’t tell me
you didn’t cringe and suffer when you
set out to raise that money, the other
day! That suffering was your warn-
ing; but you can wear it down if you
keep on.”
“I hated and loathed it,” she cried.
“Nothing was ever so horrible! But
they thought I was selfish and coward-
ly, not willing to do my share. Hard
things had been done for me! What was
the answer to that?”
“The answer was that you would earn
it with your two hands before you
would go out and beg for it! What
right have you to the earnings of
others? Dearest, don’t take any more-
crashed like
they stood
other with
went on more
ly: “And if it doesn't go on under our
auspices, the medical or some other
society will produce it.”
“Well, dear, why not let them—”
“A Eugenics Society can’t shirk the
fundamental truths,” Sabra interrupted.
“But of course the board will do as it
thinks best; the chairman has no opin-
ion.” And she went out serene and un-
hurried, as one who runs big affairs
must.
It proved a stormy meeting, for one
member had burned her copy of Pater-
nity with the tongs, and another was
for having it introduced into the public
schools, and those who had children
were inclined to snub those who had
not, and only Sabra could have told
from the beginning how they would
vote. When the majority had realized
that the play would turn the indis-
pensable lime-light on the society, and
the agitated minority had been silenced
by a timely putting of the question,
Sabra cleared the atmosphere with a
piece of pleasant news. A number of
Western clubs had expressed a desire
to entertain a member of the Eugenics
Society and hear something of its work.
How the desire had arisen, spontan-
eously, all over the West at once, could
only be explained by the successful con-
ference on the Sth and the resulting
newspaper notices.
“Though it is funny that they all saw
them,” one member observed. Sabra
tapped Tightly for order.
“The next business of the board is
to select a representative,” she said. Of
course, she herself was instantly and
unanimously chosen, but she sat
troubled and downcast before the trib-
ute. “There are reasons why I cannot
accept,” she told them. “I must beg you
to put some one else in my place.”
They would not hear of it, and when
they had backed their enthusiasm by
an appropriation for traveling expenses,
at last she lifted her fine head and put
her hand to the plow.
“Work always means sacrifice,” she
said. “It will not be easy for me to be
away in June, but if you tell me to
go, I can only obey.”
“I am half afraid to let you go out
to a suffrage state,” one member ob-
jected. “They ■will keep you and make
a senator of you.” There was a laugh,
but Sabra’s clear gaze, fixed on the
speaker, seemed to widen and deepen.
“Curious!” she said. “This is the sec-
ond time that prophecy has been made
to me. Old Mr. Harper Lindsley made
it, only a few weeks ago: ‘Some day
you will be in the United States sen-
ate.’ ”
“Well, I don't see why—” one of them
said.
“Compared to some of the men who
fill the high offices!” another completed
it. It was a jest, of course, and they
adjourned smiling, but all the way
home Sabra's eyes were lifted to some
fair and distant prospect.
(To be Continued.)
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Galveston Tribune. (Galveston, Tex.), Vol. 39, No. 49, Ed. 1 Wednesday, January 22, 1919, newspaper, January 22, 1919; (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth1618539/m1/4/: accessed July 17, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu.; crediting Rosenberg Library.