Galveston Tribune. (Galveston, Tex.), Vol. 39, No. 60, Ed. 1 Tuesday, February 4, 1919 Page: 4 of 10
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I FOTP
TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 4, 1919.
GALVESTON TRIBUNE
Poetry and Persiflage
The Passport Invisible
-BY-
ERLEY POORE SHEEHAN
COPYRIGHT, 1917, BY
THE FRANK A. MUNSEY COMPANY
AMERICA A NECESSITY
There were hard-
SANCTUM SIFTINGS
Mare! Of the road
Good
She
there-
between this world and the next.
“I
1:33
ment.
“Cut
word.
she
rough and wooded,
ly any good maps.
Back in 1901 government 4 per cent
bonds sold as high as 140. Hang on to
your liberty bonds until the last arm-
ed foe expires, at any rate. There will
never be a more assured or better in-
vestment from the standpoint of safe-
ty first.—Los Angeles Times.
about
side
link
He
Kings may come, and kings may go,
but old Jupe. Pluv. hangs right onto
the job.
also
fore,
It would begin to appear as if the
allied troops in North Russia should 1
Member of the Associated Press.
The Associated Press Is exclusively entitled to
the use for republication of all news dispatches
cr Wited to it or not otherwise credited in this
paper, and also the local news published herein.
illy Dunnyand lisTniend
6/ David Coans
acouwa unpauwwean.s-urtc-wee re*=o=ne=u
Eastern Offices.
New York Office, 341 Fifth Ave.
D. J. Randall.
Chicago, St. Louis and Detroit Offices,
The S. C. Beckwith Agency.
And last of my celestial fun
I’d reach my hand out for the sun
And pry its petals one by one
To where its gold heart lies;
I’d cup the flame and lift it high
Until it burst in melody-
All this I’d do if only I
Were spoiler of the skies.
—Chicago Tribune.
As a doctor she ought to be rolling in
wealth,
For she gives all her rides the best of
good health.
The best anywhere,
Good old Shank’s Mare!
GRIF ALEXANDER.
Please paint my whiskers sky blue
pink,
And my eyes a lovely red,
And don’t forget my wedding hat
Must be upon my head.
For I have worn it since the time
I heard the orange blossoms chime.
I’d rip the moor out from the skies,
j Cut it in twain and - cornerwise,
: And rub the pieces in my eyes
to open up my sight
Till dreams of earth should shine as
plain
As meadow flowers after rain,
And real things fade away again
Like mists into the night.
• Placing the Blame.
A man, after coming out of a trance
was summoned for being drunk and
disorderly. When lie was brought be-
fore the court he was asked why he
was drunk. He said it was on account
of bad company.
“Who are they?” asked the judge.
“Teetotalers,” was the reply.
“I think,” said the judge, “they are
the best of company.”
“They are not,” said the man, “be-
cause I had a bottle of whiskey and I
had to drink it myself.”—Pittsburgh
Chronicle-Telegraph.
I’d stretch my fingers out to seize
The fringes of the Pleiades,
And weave them into Tapestries
of color and of grace.
A bunch of little stars I’d take
And fling them down into the lake
To watch the ripples tear and break
Their spangles into lace.
So it came
IF I WERE SPOILER OF THE SKIES-
either be reinforced or removed. Com-
mon sense doesn’t council any other
course.
Mixing Pleasures and Business.
A nice, energetic . mechanic would
like to meet some little widow not over
35, for sociability, matrimony and busi-
ness.—Arizona Republican.
old Shank’s
she is queen,
neither eats
gasoline.
the platform without another
The little old lady followed him.
It was a half hour later when
that a single company on one
Leaving It Up to Him.
The window clerk at the postoffice
tells a good one on an embryo author
who wanted to mail a scenario.
“How much postage do I have to put
on this?” he asked the clerk, showing
the bulky envelope through the win-
dow.
“Is this first-class matter?” asked
the clerk.
“I think it is,” was the reply, “but I
don’t know what they’ll think at the
studio. Suppose you read it and de-
cide for yourself.”
both sides, no doubt, but a man brave
enough to confess that his side is in
the wrong has not yet been found, and
in the meantime entire communities are
made to suffer for no other reason than
that a man insists on having his own
way.
Good old Shank’s Mare! She is slow
but steady.
She’ll stop when you want to and go
when you’re ready.
The knottiest problems she’ll help you
unravel
And give you a chance to look ’round
as you travel.
all been killed. But you may imagine
how proud I was, after the peace was
signed, when that Southern gentleman
came all the way from his home in
Alabama, although wounded himself,
to tell me how David’s dying thought
had been of me, and that our firstborn—
you see I’d written to him about it—
should be—a boy.”,
“And was it?”
“Yes.”
“And he—”
“Is that other Lieut. Nichols whose
letter is there—also written to me—
Strike conditions in Belfast and Glas-
gow are reported as unchanged. This
means that the strike is still on and
that there is very little visible hope
of bringing the dispute to an end. It
has developed into a trial of endurance
between the two sides, the chances for
winning being 50-50. In the meantime
the people are kept in a state of un-
certainty in which any hour may bring
about changes such as will involve de-
struction of property if not bloodshed,
all because men are doing their best to
deny the reason with which they have
been endowed. There are wrongs on
The Sunset Hour.
When all the west is glowing red
And skies are purpling over head
And little folk with dimpling charms
Come climbing to their mother’s arms
To sprawl out and close weary eyes
To the charms of her lullabys
Then God seems to bend down ar.
smile
And living has been made worth while.
—Judd Lewis in Houston Post.
black bonnet, the black silken strings
of which were tied under her chin
somewhat to one side. Her white but
slightly yellow hair, of the tone of old
ivory, descended smoothly under the
bonnet over her temples. The delicate-
ly withered skin of her cheeks and
fact, schnappwursts are filled with
what keeps a blind pig alive. You’re
welcome.—Detroit News.
It begins to look as if Portugal was
about to return to her former system
of government, with a king at the
head. From most recent accounts, the
royalists are gaining ground, having
named a cabinet for the carrying on
of the government under King Manuel,
who, it appears, is rather loath to com-
mit himself as desirous of re-ascending
the Portuguese throne. And Manuel
had better think a long time before
getting into the water, for monarchies
are growing more and more unpopular.
If he is making a living with his chick-
en farm, it is much better than trying
to govern a people who do not know
definitely what they want in the shape
of a government.
And no three times more! For Uncle
Lucky was so angry that he couldn’t
breathe, and he got black in the face,
and he put his hand in his pocket and
held on to his wallet as tight as he
could.
Handing It to Him Hard.
John—Do you think your fathe
would object to my marrying you?.
Jane—I couldn’t say, Johnny. If he’s
anything like me he would.—London
Pearson’s.
CHAPTER 1.
Outward-Bound.
After a slow and clanking journey,
the squalid but special and important
train came to a place where the pas-
sengers were told to get down. One
of these passengers was a little old
lady dressed in black. A stout Swiss,
with a heavy yellow moustache and a
preoccupied air, lingered long enough
to lend her a hand; but a guttural or-
der from the station platform sent him
nervously on his way, and the little
old lady stood there unaccompanied
and alone.
Lucky, and then “cut it in two again j
and don't stop till I say so. Maybe |
then I’ll pay it.” jet
So Photographer Crane cut it up into x
fourteen different pieces and then Uncle
Lucky paid him, and when he was
gone, the two little rabbits went into J
the kitchen and told the three grass- A
hoppers and the little Black Crickett 1
to come into the sitting room. Well, I 1
won’t tell you what they said, for they 1
didn’t know very much about art, you I
know, and I guess they thought the j
portraits were very wonderful, for they 3
stood with their mouths and eyes wide 1
open and didn’t say a word. And just I
then, all of a sudden, a great knocking 1
came at the front door.
“Who’s that” said Uncle Lucky, with "
a hop to one side and another hop 1
backward. And then the knocking
came again, only louder than before. 1
But before the two little rabbits open I
the door I will have to close this story, ”
but in the next one you shall hear what 1
happened after that. j
might be confronting a regiment on the
other—hand to hand—through the
wood—”
"Ja-wohl!"
“That first letter was sent to me by
a Southern gentleman—himself a lieu-
tenant, but for the South. He knew
that otherwise the letter might never
reach me, nor any one tell me how
brave that last stand had been—”
“Why?”
“Because my husband’s comrades had
Apparently the Germans nave drunk
deeply of the fighting spirit, for al-
though an armistice has been declared
they are still fighting among them-
selves in ah effort to secure control
of a government which, from all ac-
counts, will be a thing more desirable
to give away than to retain; After one
. has gained even a slight intimation of
what will be demanded by the allies
in the way of reparation, it would not
appear as if any one in their sober
senses would be anxious to undertake
the task of having the German people
get under the burden. Running a gov-
ernment is not a task one should be in
a hurry to undertake. There is an old
saying about fools rushing in where
angels fear to tread, and one may well
wonder if the war has not set all Ger-
many mad.
Shank’s Mare.
Good old Shank’s Mare! This handy
hack
Runs from Worry to Ease and never
runs back.
From Joys of the Morning to Calm of
the Night
She ambles along with the greatest de-
light.
VICTORY LOAN.
Waco Times Herald.
The coming victory loan will be
the last. Although the rate of interest
and the exemption features of the fifth
loan are not yet known, it is generally
agreed that the bonds will be of short
maturity and that the amount of the
loan will be as large as the fourth,
which was for $6,000,000,000.
“Everyone prefers to pay for preven-
tion, especially when it saves 500,000
lives, and that is why there will be one
more liberty loan,” said Chairman Hen-
ry S. McKed of the Southern California
liberty loan state central committee.
“No one was planning,” he went on to
say, “on the Germans quitting in 1918
instead of taking the knockout punch
in 1919. All our. preparations were
made for a great 1919 finale. The Ger-
mans in the front line had discovered
the unbeatable fighting qualities of our
men, but it took something more stu-
pendous to move the German general
staff. Before even American officers
were aware of the fact that American
production had produced, ready for
1919, ten tons of gas for every ton the
Germans could make, a tank for every
75 feet of the fighting front; bat-
teries of small and large guns by the
thousands; airplanes in the same pro-
portion, the German general staff had
full information about the American
dose that they would be forced to swal-
low within a short time, with the re-
sult that they quit, realizing that their
game was up. Thus the lives of hun-
dreds of thousands of Americans and
hundreds of thousands more of allies,
were saved. The coming victory loan
is to pay for saving these lives, and
the fact that the bill is heavy, is be-
cause the pound of cure became a
pound of prevention instead of an
ounce. This fact the American people
must realize today, and must look to
the victory loan as loyally and patriot-
ically as they did to the past demon-
strations of the American fighting
spirit . asal
has contributed to the world some-
thing infinitely more valuable than a
couple of million stalwart young fel-
lows who knew how to fight, and the
lesson is going to be used in the mak-
ing over of Europe.
First of all, American experts and
skilled workmen are going to be in
great demand in all the countries of
Europe where commerce and indus-
try have abiding places; then, Ameri-
can machinery is going to send to the
scrap heap much of the antiquated im-
plements which, with cheap labor, Eu-
rope ’has hitherto maintained a hold
upon the commerce of the world. It has
been a world wonder how America
could pay the high wages prevalent on
, this side the Atlantic and still com-
pete in world markets with the cheaply-
produced goods of other nations. Eu-
ropean producers have seen a vision
and must profit thereby or consent to
drop back in the world race for com-
merce.
And this will mean that American
manufacturers must bestir themselves
and make past high records of pro-
duction merely milestones upon the
way to yet higher perfection. Europe
is going to call for the best we have
at this time and with Europe compet-
ing against us with our own machinery
and with the alert workmen who have
made our reputation as an industrial
nation, then must we bestir ourselves;
and enter more deeply into the region
of invention and adaptability. With
almost common ‘consent, America has
been awarded the leadership among
world powers and here it appears we
are destined to stand for some time, at
least. Honestly and bravely we have
won the place and we must accept the
trust prayerful and reverently.
that bill in two,” said Uncle
“Maid wanted for general souse-
work.”—Elgin News.
And Elgin is supposed to be dry.
Schnappwursts
We suppose you saw that a Detroit
woman was arrested on her way home
from Toledo because she was carrying
three schnappwursts, and we suppose
you are won lering what schnappwursts
are, so we will tell you. Schnappwursts
are sausage, but not pork sau-
sage. You don’t have to kill a porker
at all to make them. As a matter of
Making Progress, Anyway.
Mrs. Blang—“John, I spoke to papa
about taking you into the business,
but he says you have too many vague
ideas.” John—“Hurray! That’s clever
of him. My first wife’s father used to
say I had no ideas at all.”—Boston
Transcript.
oats nor drinks
It was night. The sky was heavily 1
clouded, although here and there the
clouds were transiently silvered by a
smothered moon. This gave to the
sky an appearance oddly in harmony
with that of the earth, which also was
smothered in black, was also stormy,
was touched up also by ephemeral and
mysterious lights.
The old lady looked about her be-
wildered.
“Loitering forbidden,” came the gut-
tural voice. “Passengers will proceed
immediately to the inspection-bureau!’
An elderly subofficer in field-gray,
his uniform offset to some measure by
his spectacles and white beard, stepped
out of the shadows. There was an au-
tomatic movement and click of other
human shapes back there. To the old
lady there came a first, groping im-
pression that the whole place was
swarming with military life. She had
confidence in the military—in spite of
all that she had heard. She confronted
the elderly subofficer with a smile.
“What does the high-born wish?” he
demanded.
This is what Uncle Lucky said to the
painter man who had come to paint his
portrait.
“Well, get ready,” said Photographer
Crane, as he opened his paint box and
squeezed out a little green paint. So
the old gentleman rabbit sat down in
his big armchair and crossed his legs
and tried to look as happy as a crab
at low tide. And pretty soon the por-
trait was done. And, oh, my! wasn't
it wonderful? You never would have
thought it was Uncle Lucky, and that
seems queer when it was his picture,
don’t you know, and Photographer
Crane had such a beautiful paint box.
Well, anyway, after that, Billy Bunny
sat down and had his portrait painted,
little knapsack and candy cane and the
gold watch and chain which dear kind
Uncle Lucky had given him for a birth-
day present. And when it was finished
Photographer Crane took out his foun-
tain pen and made out a bill, and then
he handed it to Uncle Lucky. But, oh,
dear me! When the old ■ gentleman
rabbit saw that bill he looked still less
like his portrait! Goodness me, no!
but they were neatly tied together by
a thin silk ribbon of an old-fashioned
flowered design. At least two of the
envelopes, moreover, were yellow with
age, and of these two one was mani-
festly much older than the other. The
third envelope was comparatively new.
Yet there was something homogene-
ous about the packet—somewhat as if
that old-fashioned ribbon was a badge
and symbol of that thing the old lady
had said the envelopes contained.
“So!” drawled the officer.
, “I’ve carried them over my heart,”
Mrs. Nichols explained. A faint flush
of rose color came into her cheeks and
her breath quickened. She must have
been very beautiful when she was
young. She was very beautiful now.
“But when we neared the frontier I put
them into my valise to avoid any ap-
pearance of keeping them concealed.”
“Two of these,” said the young gen-
eral, lifting the corners of the envel-
opes without disturbing the ribbon,
“are military. How is this?—both for-
warded on behalf of a Lieutenant Nich-
ols? And yet—a discrepancy—of thir-
ty-five years!”
“Father and son, Herr General! My
husband! My boy!”
There was a quaver of love—of some-
thing almost greater than love—in the
old lady’s voice as she said this. It
was love plus faith and pride, and also
of an old sorrow with no trace of bit-
terness left in it. All this showed, as
well, in the subdued brilliance of her
clear eyes.
“Beautiful!” murmured the young
general reflectively.
“Oh,” she murmured softly,
Short Changed.
“Are you writing regularly to your
boy, Josh?”
“I dunno,” replied Farmer Corntos-
sel. “I kinder got an idea that I’e
be enwritin’ to the censor. After the
censor takes out the news he wants, he
lets Josh keep the change.”—Wash-
ington Star.
Too Much of a Shock.
The chauffeur had been haled ini
court for speeding and running down
pedestrian.
“Your Honor,” said the chauffeur, “
was all my fault. The pedestrian wa
not to blame.”
And the poor judge dropped dead.-
Cincinnati Enquirer.
throat looked as if it might have the
feel and the fragrance of a white-rose
petal.
“So you are leaving us?”
"Yes,” she breathed.
There wasa quality about her eyes
and her voice whenever she s.poke as if
she had just recognized a friend.
As a matter of fact, it was several
seconds before she could see at all the
face of the man who addressed her.
Eventually, she saw that he was
young; that there was a disfiguring
scar over half the face, but that in
spite of this the face was still comely.
His hands she saw readily enough.
They were in the full glare of the be-
wildering light. One of the hands was
drawn and stiff. The other was supple
and fine. The owner of the hands was
fingering her passport.
“This is all right,” he drawled, pleas-
antly enough; and he pronounced the
name with no trace of a German ac-
cent, “Mrs. Sylvia Nichols. But there
is something else.” He paused. “You
know the regulations, doubtless, about
the taking of unauthorised writings out
of the country.”
“I do, Herr General.”
By this time she was able to dis-
tinguish enough of his uniform to be
aware of his rank. There were many
young generals in Germany.
“The enemies of the empire,” he went
on, without malice, “stop at nothing—
not even at death.” He jerked out a
short laugh and glanced at his com-
panion officers who were grouped dim-
ly back of him. He went a trifle grim
for all his amiability. “We are over-
run with spies. Faster than we can
shoot them they keep bobbing up.” He
flicked the passport aside and revealed
something else he had been holding.
“What is the meaning of tills—Mrs.
Nichols?”
In spite of the concealed menace in
the question and what he had just said,
Mrs. Nichols had that same smiling
movement with which she might have
recognized a friend.
“Ah, those—” she began, with a
tremulous and soothing accent.
But the young general raised a hand
as a signal for silence.
“Three envelopes!” he drawled.
He held up the flat packet of papers
which he hr di been holding under the
passport, bt: he kept his eyes on the
gentle old traveler in front of him.
The eyes were stern at first. Doubtless
he intended that they remain so, but
they softened.
“Three envelopes,” he repeated, "and
by such means the enemies of the
Fatherland might cause the death of
more brave men. I believe you’ve been
merely indiscreet. See, I shall burn
them.”
There was a small alcohol lamp, of
the kind used to melt sealing-wax, on
the table to one side of him. He made
a movement as if to thrust the papers
into the tiny and all but invisible blue
flame. But while he did so he was still
watching the old lady’s face.
The removal of government restric-
tions has brought no reduction in the
price of bituminous coal at the mines,
so comes a statement from Washing-
ton. It was expected that when the
government support of prices was
withdrawn there would be a stumble
in the cost, especially so as the win-
ter is fast passing, but the high cost
of bringing the fuel to market appears
to be operating and there has been no
lowering in the price of coal. The logic
is so clear that a child should under-
stand it. If high wages are maintained
the product of those high wages must
bear the cost of the high wages. The
shipbuilder should understand that he
cannot expect the coal miner to work
for low wages merely to enable the
ship builder to continue to draw high
pay, and if the ship producer pays a
high cost for his vessel, he must pro-
tect himself by charging high freight
rates on the coal he carries from the
mines to the consumer. After all,
wages regulate the cost of necessities
to a very large extent and this we
ought to know.
emerged from a dressing room where
she had such other women as had been
on the train were submitted to the fi-
nal search. She was in a narrow cor-
ridor, dimly lit, as bare of furniture
as a jail. Along this she was ushered
by the woman who had searched her.
The woman threw open a door, and
the little old lady entered an office
in which there were half a dozen offi-
cers grouped about a table over which
there was a brilliant light.
This light was so arranged as to
shine strongly on the table itself and
any one who might stand in front of it.
She stood there in the brilliant glare
mild and unafraid. She was eighty at
least. She couldn't have weighed more
than a hundred pounds. She wore a
It was evident that he was the pos-
sessor of the guttural voice she had
already heard. And now it was still
brusque, but the tone of it was modi-
fied by a hint of wonder if not of sym-
pathy.
■ “They hurried me out so fast,” she
replied, mildly and pleasantly, "that I
couldn’t get my valise down from the
rack.” She was speaking in a pu.
but rather hesitant German. "It’s all
the baggage I have,” she added.
The elderly officer himself mounted
the step of the compartment. The car
was an old one. On the door was a “III”
showing that it had been used in for-
mer times for third-class traffic. There
were other marks about showing that
this traffic might have been conducted
on one of the lesser railroads in France.
There was a moment or silence. The
silence was not absolute, however. It
was softly jarred by a distant, perpet-
ual grunt.
Then, off in a quarter of the sky
where there had been no moonlight,
the clouds were momentarily touched
by a flash of wierdly green and yellow
light. Followed, three muffled explo-
sions—somewhat as if one of those
gruting giants in the distance had
moved up closer and relieved himself
with a rumbling triple cough. A mo-
ment, and where the green and yellow
light had been all was black again;
the distant sounds were overcome by
smaller but nearer noises.
“Is this all you had?” the subofficer
asked as he reappeared with the va-
lise. 4 mis
“Yes, and thank you so much!”
She had made a move to take the
valise from his hand, but he hesitated
to give it to her. That look of won-
der that had shaded Ms military brus-
quesness had now changed to amuse-
went to Cuba with Colonel Roosevelt.”
“Ha! A Rough Rider!”
There was a slight murmur. Mrs.
Nichols proceeded: "He was so like his
father! He couldn’t resist the call. I—
I was glad to see him go—and to know
that the country was united again; for
in the same troop with David, Jr., was
the son of that Southern gentleman
who had fought on the other side in
our Civil war. Langley was his name—
Jesse Langley; and David loved him.”
There was a momentary lull. There
was a subdued movement at one of the
doors. But the young general with the
scar on his face listened to what the
old lady said with the air of one who
is rapt in thought. So did the others.
“I tried not to regret,” whispered
Mrs. Nichols, "even when I learned that
he lay out there in the burning sun,
with the land-crabs rattling, about, for
almost a day and a night and,another
day before he died. For he died as his
father had died before him, under the
same flag, also a lieutenant, in an army
of liberation!”
The young general bestirred himself.
“What is this third letter?”
“From my son's daughter. Perhaps—
I pray not, but—perhaps the last letter
I may receive from her. She also is in
the shadow---”
“A woman!”
“As your own mother would under-
stand, Herr General. I hope you still
have her with you. She must be proud
of you.”
“I see,” said the general with a touch
of gallantry. “The daughter of your
soldier-son is herself----”
“About to become a mother.”
For almost a minute, possibly, the
young general continued to reflect. He
scowled slightly,'but that was merely
a reflex of his training; there was no
anger in his mood.
(To Be Continued.)
"When the United States threw into
the world war the tremendous weight
of her financial, industrial and physi-
cal power, it marked the beginning of
the end, for whether or not the four
years of conflict had in a large meas-
ure decimated the war power of the
central nations, the force brought into
action by the United States would have
proven irresistible and the doom of
German world ambition was written
when the first American soldier step-
ped upon the shores of France.
It may have been possible for the
allies to have conquered Germany with-
out the aid of the United States, but
it would have taken years to accom-
plish the task, and at the end it would
have found every nation of Europe
bankrupt and exhausted. We are not
claiming exclusive honors in connec-
tion with the ending of the war, nor are
we so entirely disinterested as our pro-
testations of seeking only to make the
world safe, might imply, but a de-
vastated and pauperized Europe would
have so demoralized our own commerce
as to have invited industrial disorders
and perhaps revolution, hence, it was
somewhat in the nature of self-preser-
vation which induced this country to
participate in the struggle.
But this has already become past his-
tory. Today we are engaged in an en-
deavor to get the world back upon its
feet, to revive its courage, to bring it
renewed hope; it is here that the Unit-
ed States will probably play a larger
part than it did in so swiftly hurrying
two millions of men to the Western bat-
tlefront. The millions of men killed
in the war must be replaced if matters
are to resume the normal within a
reasonable time; the industries wrecked
by the havoc of war must be recon-
structed, the homes laid low, the build-
ings ground into powder must be
trought again into existence, and to
do this America is needed, backed by
American skill and American money.
The establishment in France of great
depots, the erection overnight of mon-
ster factories, the ceaseless stream of
finished products, which have poured
out of these factories, have given Amer-
ica a new meaning in the eyes of the
Europeans. Hitherto they had heard
of the marvelous achievements of
American inventors, the skill of Amer-
ican artizans, the capacity of Ameri-
can machinery, but now, it has brought
right under their observation and, like
the queen of Sheba before Solomon,
Europe has exclaimed, “the half has
never been told.” Europe has brought
out of the war, together with her deep
sorrow and her solemn gratification
,of victory, a knowledge that the na-
tion on the western side of the world
Old Lady Rumor.
There is nothing .like a rumor just to
get the gang afire.
They recieve it,
And believe it,
Does it matter who’s the liar?
No, it doesn’t. For as often as we hear
of something new.
Though it’s doubted,
It is shouted
By our gossip loving crew.
Conversation is a morsel, and, with
greedy appetite,
How we chew it
As we brew it,
Be it daytime, be it night.
Back in the States it started and con-
tinues o’er the foam,
And we swally
It, by golly
When we join, the Soldiers’ Home!
A-h-h-h-men-n!
—C. H. MacCoy, Base Hospital S3, in
Stars and Stripes.
“This is no time for ladies like you
to be traveling alone,” he remarked.
“I’ve been living with a nephew in
Stuttgart,” she explained. "He was in
the consular service. He needed me.
But I was also needed—back in my
own country.”
"Why isn’t your Herr Nephew with
you now?” "
Her answer came like a gentle apol-
ogy: "He is dead.”
The elderly 'subofficer growled a
barking order at the human automa-
tons in the darkness and started along
CHAPTER II.
Passed by the Censor.
Perhaps you have heard about the
battle of Chickamauga,” said Mrs. Nich-
ols with tender enthusiasm. "My hus-
band was there. We hadn’t been mar-
ried very long. I was very proud of
him.”
"I’ve studied the battle of Chicka-
mauga.”
"Of course, the number of troops en-
gaged was not so great as in the bat-
tles of today,” Mrs. Nichols went on,
“but they were all men of the same
stock—with the same sort of courage—
and the same sort of devotion. I’ve
talked to many of them who were
fighting then—both North and South.
That’s why it means so much to me to
be—American!”
One would have said that some-
thing of Mrs. Nichols’ age left her as
she made this statement. That slight
flush that had come into her delicate
cheeks and remained. Her voice, for
all its soft mildness, was faintly proud
and vibrant.
“The country down around Chicka-
mauga Creek,” she explained, “was
wouldn’t do that, Herr General!”
“Why not?”
“They are very dear to me.”
“And to our enemies, perhaps!”
“No—I believe not—Herr General.”
He withdrew the packet from the vi-
cinity of the flame.
“Then I shall have to submit them to
investigation. This will take time. In
the meantime I shall have to detain
you.”
The traveler smiled at him.
"Whatever you do will be for the
best, Herr General. I’m not afraid.
Not for the world would I have you
get into trouble on my account—”
"The gracious lady is considerate.”
“You see, I had a boy like you once.
I understand what your duties are. But
I can assure you that you need not be
afraid. Your secret agents must have
already investigated me—and even
those papers—weighed them—felt of
them—discovered the nature of their
contents.” *
“Which was—”
“Love!”
“Explain yourself!”
“They are letters,” she said, with a
sort of complacent warmth; "oh, the
dearest letters in the world! One of
them was written by my husband. An-
other was written by my son. The
third—that was written by my grand-
daughter. They .are about all that I
have left of any value.”
The young general studied the light
packet in his hand. There was no oc-
casion for haste. There was a certain
reason for delay.
Three envelopes there were, sure
enough. They were of different sizes,
incomplete — also,
you might say, a
GALVESTON TRIBUNE
================================= ESTABLISHED 1880 ========================-------
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Galveston Tribune. (Galveston, Tex.), Vol. 39, No. 60, Ed. 1 Tuesday, February 4, 1919, newspaper, February 4, 1919; (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth1618557/m1/4/: accessed July 17, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu.; crediting Rosenberg Library.