Image provided by: University of Nebraska-Lincoln Libraries, Lincoln, NE
About The monitor. (Omaha, Neb.) 1915-1928 | View Entire Issue (Sept. 16, 1920)
(©. 1920. by MoClure Newspaper Syndicate.) Lon Alberts had the oulja craze. Bill Hlaekloek was a nonbeliever. As her “psychic Investigations,” as she called thetn, became more intense and earnest, his good-natured scoffing developed into ardent contempt and finally reached the stage of intoler ance. “Leave that hoard alone or It will drive you insane," lie admonished. “Well, let me tell you. Bill Black lock," she said, “the stand you are tak ing simply shows you up as a narrow minded materialist. You're denounc ing something you haven't even tried. I dare you to put ouija to a test." She brought the board from its place In the corner and brandished It before him challengingly. Bill and Loti were to he married wlthia six weeks, but he was unable to discuss the coming event with her owing to (lie “psychic Investigations." It had come to the point where Lou had to give up either oulja or Bill. ‘Til tell you what,” he said. “We'll test oulja. find If he falls you must drop him and forever keep silence about him. If he meets the test I’ll accept him and there’ll he no more dis agreements.” This seemed fair enough, and Lou agreed. They drew up chairs and pluced the board on their laps and their hands on Ihe Indicator. Bill asked his age and (lie hoard an swered twenty-seven, which was cor rect. He questioned It regarding his vocation and oulja truthfully answered “Mining engineer." He put other ques tions and the replies were accurate. “Now are you convinced?” Lou asked triumphantly, as they paused. “No," be said. “The answers to all questions were known by one of us. Our subconscious personalities Have been moving the indicator, that's all. The whole thing’s a farce. You must abandon this crazy hobby.” Bill took the board and with a pencil wrote in big letters across the face of It, “Ouija Is a faker.” The termination of the heated argu ment that ensued caused a definite break in relations, and Bill tlouuced i lUilllunliihX Soon the Motorboat Was Plowing Up stream. from the house with a diamond ring clutched In his fist and a grim, deter mined, desperate look on his counte nance. Bill was stubborn, Iml no more so than Lou. lie remained away, and she let him. “I can't live In the same town with her." Bill finally decided, and forth with sent a letter of acceptance In re gard to some work In the southwest. About the same time Loti's father was ordered by his doctor to a differ- j ent climate, and Mr. Alberts. Ids wife and two daughters shortly after start ed on a triji ucross the continent. Bill did not know Ihul Lou had left the city, and Lou was unaware of Ids departure. They loved each other, iheir souls cried out for each other, but both were too stubborn to surren- : der. If ouija Is a spirit of good he must have felt bad about the separation he had brought about. If he Is evil he grinned with benevolent satisfaction. Bread river was Justifying Its name. Spring torrents had swollen the j stream to twice its width, and the j work of expansion, accompanied by a work of devastation, went on. It wrenched houses from their founda tions, It obliterated abandoned mines and some that had not been aban doned. It ate Its way Into mountains and tore huge ehunks from their shies. A shack standing against a moun tain wall withstood all the greedy as saults of the torrent. The shack was marooned, with the mountain wall at Its back ami water on the other sides, tint there was a plentiful supply of provisions and the throe men who had their temporary abode there fe.t little uneasiness over iheir welfare, i Thev knew they eould lei w d ould I the occasion arise, for dost' b.v Ihe cabin was a large and powerful motor boat which they could launch and make their way in the swollen river in spite of all the currents that might assnil the craft. However, the men were there for a purpose and had no inten tion of leaving until their object was accomplished. One day liill was interrupted in a game of solitaire by one of his com panions who stood before him holding a familiar looking board. "Here’s something queer,” said the man. “I found this tiling washed up by the river. It's a message for help, but It’s a strange one.” Bill seized the board with a feeling something akin to exasperation. He turned the board over and his eyes wldned as he read a message that had been laboriously carved in the back with a knife. It read: “Help; out of provisions; water at cabin door; titlll rising; marooned on Pegg's Point.” “There's the message for help.” said the man who had brought the hoard, “but look at this." And he reversed the hoard, and with a linger pointed out another message which bad once been written with a pencil, although the water had washed off all traces of lend and left only a scrawling depres sion In the wood. "Ouija is a faker." were 'lie words that were only faintly visible Bill hurled the playing cards to the floor and upset the table. “Launch the bout," he directed. He was leader of the party and the others obeyed without question. Soon the motorboat was plowing up stream. The current was strong, hut the four-cylinder engine drove the craft along In spite of all resistance. Three miles they went, and a sheet fluttering from the roof of a cabin at tracted the attention of the voyagers. They steered the boat toward tills hab itation, the lower part of which was Immersed. The boat crept up beside the shack and Bill was Ihe first to step from it Into the rnhin. In water up to his waist he waded through the three lower rooms and then rnoruted a lad der to tile upper floor. A man, a woman and two girls were huddled in a corner. "Thank God!” breathed the man fer vently. "We're saved.” "Bill!” cried one of (lie girls. In a comer of the living room of a modest, comfortable dwelling in an eastern city stands an ouija hoard. The hoard Is never used, for Lou has re covered from her "craze." But some times tier husband takes it in his hands and pats It affectionately and says softly: “Ouija, you’re all right. I take It back; you’re no faker after all." AND SO IT WAS ILLUSTRATED The Way of Modern Artist With a Story That Really Captivates His Fancy. “This Is a peach of a story,” thought Dasher Christy, the eminent Illustra tor. “I enjoyed every word of It. It's the kind of a story I like to illustrate. I. gives me something to work on. This description of the heroine, for Instance.” And he read It again for the 10th time—“Myrtle Stedfast had liquid brown eyes witli prominent pupils, a dainty Irish nose to which u crescent shaped freckle on the very tip lent added piquancy, fiery red hair with a glint of green where the sun caught It. a ravishing rosebud mouth and teeth like new Ivory that has just been mined.” "The hero, too—a masterpiece,” mused the eminent Illustrator. And he read over the hero’s descrip tion once more—"Pete Jardiniere was above all. a manly man. He was fl feet 7 inches tall, ns blond as the moon and as fascinating as the devil. His eyes were hlaek as ripe coal, his teeth white as unspoiled snow. He was the slenderest man Myrtle had ever seen with the exception of the living skelef m In the side show.” Two months Inter the story appeared In McEvery’s Magazine, Illustrated by Dasher Christy. In the pictures. Myrtle had purple eyes, a perfect Roman nose without a freckle, black hair and no mouth, while Pete was a little fat man with pink eyes, gray hair nnd a red mus tache.—Detroit Free Press. Gladstone Liked to Sing. Sir Walter Parrott told ut Oxford an Interesting little story of Mr. Glad stone. He said he find been speak ing to Mr. Gladstone of the great compasses quite unmusical people of ten possessed. “Yes, sir,” replied Mr. Gladstone, "I used to like to hear my voice. It rang Inside my bead.” Of course, Mr, Gladstone was very fond of singing, and as a young man sang negro melodies with great gusto. His eldest son composed many hymn tunes, and the present Viscount Glad stone sang in a choir for several years. —London Chronicle. Luring the Help. “When I tried to tell the hired man what to do,” complained Josh, “he laughed at me.” “Mebbe, son,” replied Farmer Com tossel, “It’s more hopeful than you think. If you can make him laugh often enough perhaps he'll take a fancy to iih and consent not to quit.” Three Was a Crowd. The officer had caught the private tilting a bottle of cognac. “Are you drinking on duty?” he de manded. “Ye*, sir.” “Corporal of the gun-” “Don’t call him. captain. There’* only enough left for the two of us.” At the Fashion Show _ FASHlt IN' shows are abroad In the land and those In tlie large cities are repeated on the screen every where, so that she who runs—to the movies—may read the story of fall styles. By these means we have a chance to compare the efforts of Amer ican producers of women’s apparel with early Imports and with photo graphs of French productions that have not actually reached us. If we start out by conceding the French to be masters, we must conclude that Americans are Hie most apt and pro gressive of pupils. The admirable ! features in French gowns are present and quite as admirably managed In those of American manufacture and an Independence of Ideas has reject ed whatever Is not suited to us. It Is the part of wisdom to borrow that which Is beautiful and character istic In the dress of other nations. The frock shown nt the left of the two pictured here may have come to ns by way of France hut It started In j -. J ltiissia. Ail underskirt of black satin, with large overlapping rings embroid ered around it, Is glimpsed below an overskirt of blue serge joined to a blouse. Both open at the left side and reveal the satin from shoulder to hem with smaller embroidered rings as a decoration. Tassels fall along each side of the opening and there is a long narrow sash of the serge. Long waistlines and full skirts are predicted for fall and these are set forth very attractively In the dress at the right. In this frock a semi-fifted bodice Is joined lo a long tunic and opens over a vest of net and face. A border of satin at the bottom of the tunic is cut in points. There is a col lar of brocaded satin and cuffs of it finish the sleeves. New Silk Gowns, Gay or Sedate TWO afternoon frocks of widely different styles, but both employ ing taffeta and Ince in combination, present themselves together in the pic ture above and Invite comparison. One of them, with frivolity aforethought, la a fussy little affair ot silk and cream-colored Ircc that has appropri ated apron drapery at the front and pannier effect at the sides, elaborat ing both these simple and qunlnt ideas until they are hardly to he recog nized. It has a plain straight under skirt which does its Useful part as a foundation for eccentric drapery. The bodice Is smooth fitting and extended over the waistline where it Is wrinkled In the semblance of a girdle. Elbow sleeves, ending In frothy puffs of lace and a square neck, also finished with • lace puff, are In, keeping with the pannier silhouette which gives this gay dress Its character. Not a detail of the costume hut what plays Its part to sustnln the style of the frock. Such a costume Will re-enfo* **>e personality of light ^V=. hearted youth and make the gravest of young persons look guy. There are many colors In which this frock can be successfully developed, but, in any case. It is intended for a youthful wearer. The other dress of black taffeta and black lace has a long tunic of Ince 1 handed with tnffeta that hangs full and straight over the underskirt. It has a Quaker bodice with wide silk fichu and n girdle of taffeta tied In a bow at the hack. The sleeves are hardly elbow length. Perhaps the wearer Is one of those fortunate young women who possess pretty elbows. This frock is one of the new models for fall, youthful and demure looking, and It would be Just as alluring made In a color with lace dyed to match the silk. ; ---^ The Man From Huntington By H. LOUIS RAYBOLD Ufe. 1920, by McClure Newspaper Syndicate.! For seven long months Carter Rags dale bad been living In New York. It bad been a decided change from Hunt ington, Miss., with its 2,878 popula tion, approximately all his personal friends or cordial acquaintances. One had to be mentally alert In the offices of Richards Bros. There were no free intervals there for regrets and repinings. Particularly if! one had firmly determined to learn, In as short a time as possible, all the multitudin ous details of a very big business, and some day to hold one of its proud positions. Evenings were different. Then Car ter Ragsdale had thought that be would gladly exchange all the thrills of metropolitan existence to be back at home again. On the first Sunday In May, when spring was making Central park a place of enchantment, throwing a soft veil of green over the chill loveliness it wears in winter, Carter Ragsdale went for a stroll through its highways and byways. It was a beautiful morning. Things had been going well at the office. His chief, a man little given to praise, had spoken some words of warm com mendation, the afternoon before. He had been given increased responsi- [ blllty. There were hints of promo tion, with a salary Increase, before long. As he paced slowly that Sunday morning, Carter W’as thinking that things were indeed well with his world—If he might only sometimes see some one from home. Then he re membered tlie Huntington paper, the ; four-page weekly which came to his I boarding house each Saturday, every j line of which he read on Sunday. He sat down on a convenient bench, and drew’ the thin sheet from his pocket. No records of world happenings 'n the great New York papers were as Interesting as the “Live Little Locals" "Why, Mr. Vernon.” on the last page of the Huntington Mercury. One hy one, he conned them. “Miss Bess Walpole sprained her ankle Inst Saturday at the Baptist | Sunday school picnic at Laurel Creek." “Mr. Roger Vernon has a new auto- | mobile." From some sudden Impulse Carter Ragsdale raised his eyes. Directly opposite, across the path, sat a strangely familiar figure. An old gentleman, lean of frame, aqui line of feature, keen of eye. was watching him. Instantly upon his feet, Carter Ragsdale whipped off his hat, I and bounded the dozen Intervening feet, his face exultant. “Why, Mr. Vernon.” he called, "who would ever have expected—” By this time he had reached the bench where his park neighbor sat. His face fell. “I beg your pardon, sir,” he stam mered. "I thought—an old friend from home—from Mississippi—I had Just been reading about him In my home paper. If I'd only stopped to think—but the resemblance really Is striking 1" Embarrassed, Carter started away, calling In valedictory, "I trust I have not annoyed you. sir.” The stranger summoned the young man to a seat beside him. “I did not catch the name of my double," he said courteously. Then Carter made explanations. “Mr. Roger Vernon, sir. He Is presi dent of the '»ank at home, and a very fine gentleman. Vo one could object to having such a double.” Carter found himself talking quite at ease with his new acquaintance. The old gentleman boomed u laugh of hearty appreciation. “Your double has Just bought a new machine”—Carter indicated the news paper item. The headline of the “Mercury" caught the old gentleman’s eye. "Jumping Jehosophat!” he exclaim ed. “This is strange!” From an inner pocket he produced his curd. Carter read : “James Roger Vernon.” “Young man, your Vernon’s my sec ond cousin. I never was in Hunting ton in my life, and I never saw him. But I’ve heard my father tell of vis iting in Mississippi when he was a boy. I’ve always intended to get In touch with my southern relatives some day.” Just as they were launched on this topic, there came an Interruption. A slim, graceful girl, with dark eyes and coppery hair, stood before them. “I’m just getting introduced for the first time to m.v relatives in Missis sippi,” explained the father. Alicia held out a pretty hand. “Oh,” she said, “is this a new cousin—from Mississippi?” Carter shook his head dolorously. “I’d certainly claim the relationship if I didn’t know I’d lie shown up an im postor later! But the families are great friends. I sent my first valen tine to your fourth cousin.” Alicia laughed. To Carter It was the most charming he had ever heard. “How nice to have met you!” she said. When they took their departure Car ter walked beside them. Not far from the park a luxurious limousine waited. “Don’t forget our address, young man,” said Mr. Vernon. “Come to see us. Come to breakfast next Sunday— nine sharp. We’ve got a southern cook.” The recipient of this invitation stood as rapt as one upon whom man na from heaven was descending. He could scarcely murmur his grateful ac ceptance. As Mr. Vernon turned to give di rections to the chauffeur, Alicia added: “I want to hear all about this fourth cousin I’ve never seen. I scent ro mance.” As Alicia’s father bundled her into the car Carter protested, “Oh, no. she’* married now. It was just puppy love— a sort of trial heat.” A lovely face smiled, “Never mind. You can find a romance here. New Yorker? always say one can find any thing one wants.” Mr. Vernon leaned out to call, “Nine o'clock sharp I” Then a certain young southerner, from whom a burden of loneliness had been magically lifted, went blissfully upon his way. Next Sunday was only seven day^ off. New York was giving him busi ness opportunity. Now the wonderful city held out another lure. "Find ro mance here?” lie quoted under his breath. “Why, It’s already found!” WHERE TWO EXTREMES MEET Civilization and the Wild Places of Earth Come Together at Fall* of the Zambesi. Once upon a time it was in western America that one happened on the meeting place of the wilds and civili zation. Now it is Africa, Africa of the elephants and the Uganda railway. Perhaps the best-known meeting place of the two extremes on the dark continent is the hotel at the Victoria Falls of the Zambesi, where the tour ists scamper about the. desolate Stretch of busli-veid. Twenty minutes takes you from the hotel to the savagery of the falls, and on your way you may surprise a troop of baboons, grubbing about in the rocks, who win dash off at a clumsy gallop and show their teeth as you pass. The guinea fowls cackle, the hornhills fly over, and the kaffirs are stalking about outside the modern lux urious hotel. Inside, the tourists try ing to maintain western dignity at a dance, while the great jungle baboons slink up to the hotel’s orchard to steal the ripe oranges. Inevitably it re minds you of Mowgil's cry, “Let In the Jungle, I In tli I!” Truly contrast, and If contrast spells romance, neru, by the great Zambesi, may you find It. Fine Art of Reading. An English writer holds “browsing” to be more of an art and thinks that the perfect “browser” should stand tip or assume some other position of easy negligence, because for him to settle down In a chair is to “degener ate almost Inevitably Into a mere reader.” He then goes on to point out that one does not “browse" on Mere dith or Browning, a statement to which might be added that one does mighty little “browsing” on Henry .Tames. “Browsing" Is not quite the same thing as skipping, although you do skip; nor yet as skimming, although you do skim; It is, in other words, Just browsing, and this may be con sidered ns satisfactory as a great mnny definitions.—Christian Science Monitor. Not So Skimpy. Her husband was counting his ready cash when she stole up behind him and laid her hand on a $20 bill. “I saw a_lovely ha tiling suit yester day,” slie wheedled, “and this would just about cover it.” “It would, eli?” he retorted. “Then get it by all means. I think the one you have now could lie covered by a couple of postage stamps.”—Boston Transcript. Conclusive Evidence. "But how did the boss know Clar ence had taken the cnr out?” asked Henry. “Why,” explained William. “Clar ence ran over him."—Harper’s Maga zine.