]
The Finding of
Jasper Holt
BY
Grace Livingston IliU Lutz
Author of "Mafeta. Sctujjrler”, "Phoebe Deane",
"The Obsession of Victoria Gracen", etc.
. I III «««■ MM...
—u
He Csrned at that and the clond on
Mb face cleared and brightened into a
■mile that seemed to enfold her in his
gfance of tenderness, yet he lifted not
a Itager to touch her.
"T love you! How I love you!” he
aaid, in a low, lingering tone, as it the
•peaking of the words were exquisite
Joy that he knew was fleeting and
must be treasured.
"I never knew there was a girl like
yon. 1 loved you at once as soon as l
■aw you in the train—but I knew, of
course, you were not for me. I'm not
Cft for you—I’m not In your class at all
—ana11 wouldn’t have dreamed of any
thing but worshipping you, even after
these days together—only you care!
You tru?t me! That broke me all up!
rd give anything in this world if I
could keep that and take it to the end
dit with it—to remember that look in
your eyes when you said you trusted
me—and thought I was good—and all.
If yon weren’t going right where they
know Ail about me and will tell you, I'd
never have opened my lips. I’d have
stolen this one little bit of trust and
kept St for my own; for down in my
heart 1 know it Isn’t wrong, I know
yoa may trust me. I'd give my life to
keep that trust——’’
He was looking straight Into her
dear eyes as he talked and his own
•yes were clear and good, showing h1s
strung, true spirit at Its best. The
appeal in his voice suddenly went to
the girl’s heart. With a growing un
easiness she had listened to his words,
and ohe felt that Bhe could bear no
more. The tears rushed to her eyes
and she put up bar hands to cover her
face.
"Please. Tell me quick! she
brcathra*! softly.
Puzzled, thrilled with the wonder of
her tears, and longing inexperssibly to
comfort her, ho put out his hand awk
wardly and laid it on her bowed head
bending over her as he might have
done to a child in trouble.
"Tbaxe’s nothing for you to feel bad
mhoat,” he said in a voice of wonderful
tenderness. “I’m bearing this circum
stance. d’ just wanted to be the one
to tell you myself that I’m not what
you think me. I’m not bad, really,
the way I might be, but I’ve not been
good, and I’m not a gentleman, not tho
kind you’re used to. Nobody thinks
I’m worth anything at all. Your people
bate me. and would think it a good
thing if somebody would kill me, I
know. You see how it is that I can’t
be like other men who love you. I
cannot ask you to marry me; for after
you’ve heat'd what your family will
say about me you wont’ look at me
yourself—tand I don't blame you. It’s
all my own fault, I suppose. I can see
It xjskw. though I never thought so till
K looked in your eyes on the train. If
I had known a girl like you was com
ing ray way I’d have made things dif
ferent—I’d have been ready—but I
didn’t know. Nobody ever told mo!
And dow it’s too late. I’m not worthy
of you.”
5He took his hand from her head and
dropped back against the tree again,
Tg bitbsr expression on his face.
**Oh> don’t,” she pleaded softly, quick
to see his changing mood. “Please
don't look like that. Won’t you tell me
what you have done taht makes them
mil feel so about you?”
There was silence for a moment be
tween them while the twilight grew
lDuiooua with the coming of a pale,
youns; moon battling with the dying
ruby of the sun. So, in the holy of the
evening lie came to his confession,
Bore to face with his sins before the
pure r-vas of the girl he loved.
N,
CHAPTER VII.
The PStars were large and vivid
above them, like taper3 of tall angels
ber' u> light a soul’s confession up tc
Cod.
• 'ins beautiful silence that brooded
ove; the plain was broken now and
again foy distant calls of some? wild
creature, but that only emphasized the
atillnssss and the privacy of the night
The two whose souls were thus come
bo strangely and unexpectedly into i
ecnauMMa crisis of their lives sat a wee
and stricken before the appalling irre
TOcab|enc^ cf deeds that are past.
Jasper Holt nrok ethe silence at
last:
“1 was never as bad as they thought
I was,'” Ihe said in a broken voice
Oiougb there was no hint in it of at
tempting to •discount his blame. “Thej
laid a lot of things at my door that 1
never thought of doing—some things ]
wtxzld have scorned to do.” His voice
m: haughty now with pride. “I sup
posi‘ ft .was my fault they thought
did tlicm. i let them think so—I grew
to gSttry in (their thinking so, and some
(Ernes Ijfipe’Wton Just for the pleasure
of fruling :ttrat they,-through their in
Jtetice^rvreresmore in the wrong than I
1 suppose I had uo right to do that
At least I seo now .that for—your sake
—A should have kept my record clear.’
He Ii»ed his gray eyes in the -star
Hgjjt ui her face Ctor .one swift look am
went .on:
**« was rono eff their business what
I did though, end niy .theory alway.
5
| has been to do as I pleased so long
as I lived up to my creed. For I had ,
, a creed, a kind of religion, if you want
i to call it that. Put into a single word,
I perhaps nine-tenths of my creed is In- ,
, dependence. What people thought of
me didn't come into my scheme of life.
I thought it a slavery to bow to public '
opinion, and gloried in my freedom. It ,
seemed a false principle without cause .
; or reason. You see I never reckoned '
i on your coming. I thought I was liv
I ing my lifu just for myself. I can (
j see now that underneath all the false- '
! ness of the world’s conventionalities j
there runs some good reason, and
there may be circumstances where ,
some of the things they insist upon are ,
righL—even necessary. This is one.
I never considered anything like this.
I couldn’t see any reason why I should
ever need to care what people thought j
of me, or to go out of my way to make
them think well of me. I always re
i lied on something else to get me what '
I wanted, and so far it has not failed.
They will tell you that. They will let J
you know that I have not been power
less because some men hated me—for
though they have hated me they hav$ '
also feared me-” j
The girl turned her eyes, tear-fille(J, i
and full of amazement, to look at him, i
studying the line outline of features i
against the starlit background of the i
sky. She could see the power in his
I face; power with gentleness was what ;
| she had afeen when she first looked at i
him; but Hate! Fear! How could
| men so misjudge him? What was i
there about him to fear?
He read her thought.
You nont see now mat couia do, ■
he said sadly. “I don’t look that way ■
to you now. But wait till you hear '
them talk. You'll get another view- '
point. You won't see me this way at 1
all any more. You’ll see me with their 1
eyes-” !
"Don’t!” she said with a sob in her
voice, putting up her hands as if to 1
defend herself from his words.
"I shall not blame you,” he said 1
bending tenderly, eagerly, toward her.
“It will not be your fault. It will be^
almost Inevitable. You belong with i
them and not with me, and you can- i
not help seeing me that way when you i
get with them. It is a part of my i
miserable folly. It Is my punishment. 1
I have no right to make you think I >
am better than they believe. It will be 1
easier for you to forget me if you be- 1
lieve what tliejr do-”
"I will never believe what they do!” *
said the girl vehemently, “I will never
listen to their opinion! You may have
sinned; you may have done a lot of 1
things that you ought not to have 1
done—I am not wise to judge those
things—but you are not bad! I know
you are not! And I know I can trust
you! I shall always trust you, no
matter what anybody says, no matter
how things look! I know you are
good and true! I know you!”
She.put out her hands piteously to
ward him and her delicate face was '
lifted with determination and inten
sity. There was something glorious in
the sparkle of her eyes. He took her
hands reverently.
"You dear!” ho breathed tenderly.
“You wonderful woman!”
She caught her breath and her
hands trembled in liis, but she sat up
proudly as if she were defying the
world in his defense.
“Now, tell me the rest,” she said.
"Tell it all! And then I shall believe
just what you tell me, nothing more!
If they tell me other things, I shall
know (hey arc false. I shall not be
afraid when you tell mo what you have
done because you are here and I can
look into your eye3 and know you are
sorry; so tell me the worst. Hut you
needn’t ever think I shall listen to
them.”
So, with her soft small hands in his,
l and her eyes bright as the stars above
them, looking straight into his, he
looked back as straightforwardly and
told her. All the foolishness, the stub
bornness, and independence. All the
, light against convention and law. His
gambling and wild, rough living. His.
companioning with men who were out
laws and sinners. His revolutionary
methods of dealing with those who did
not do as he thought they ought, or
who tried to interfere with him. His
■ summary punishment of those who
stirred his soul to wrath. He told jt
in low tones and grave, searching out
each confession of his heart as though’
i he would make a clean sweep of it, an#
I lifting his eyes bravely each time t«
| meet the pain he could not help seeing*
‘ In hers. It was his real judgment, hi^i
first sense of shame and sorrow and
repentance.
And then when it was told he
bowed his head in silence for a mo
ment, still holding her hands, as
i though there'yet remained something
more to say. At last he spoke.
“There's one thing,” he said, and he
.. lifted his head with a sigh. “Yes—two
! things, I might say—that I suppose
' you'll be glad to hear. I haven't been i
a drinking man! I doubt If many oft
.1
your friends will believe that, for I’ll
often in the saloons, and with mei
who drink. 1 haven't noised it abroat
that I don’t drink, and only those wh<
have beeh with me a good deal ant
know my ways, understand it. I slm
ply don’t drink because I don’t Wan
to. I saw what it did to men when
first came out here. I knew I needec
my brains for what I wanted to do
and I didn’t like the idea of surren
dering them for a few hours’ carouse
and putting myself even temporarilj
out of my own control, so I Just deter
mined I wouldn’t drink and I didn’t
Hut your brother and sister—won't-*!*®
lieve that. My repatation is under
stood to be of the'worst, and drinking
Is a matter of course when one is hard
wild as they think I am. There’s
mothet thing, too. I’ve kept away
from women. Some of them hurt me
:oo much when I was a kid, and when
! grew a little older, and so 1 decided
igainst them all. That’s kept me
dean. I can look you in the eyes and
lot be ashamed. I didn’t do it because
had any idea there would ever be one
ike you in the world. I did it Just be
muse the kind of thing that some men
iked, turned niesick to think of. This
s probably another thing your people
vouldn’t believe. They’ve heard oth
srwise of me. They’ve shouldered
svery crime on the calendar on me.
tnd perhaps they’ve had some reason
rom their standpoint. I haven’t al
vays tried to make things look right,
didn’t care. It wasn’t their business,
rhere was a girl came to the Valley
>nce with a traveling show who was
ill in. She was down on her luck and
ust about ready to give up and take
ler own life. I helped her out a bit,
>aid for her at the hotel a few days till
ihe got rested, and sent her on her
vay to her father in Missouri; but you
iugni 10 nave neara me rumpus tne
own raised! That added to my sa
vory reputation, you see. Well, I'm no
lajnt, but I’*ve kept clean! So—there
'o"u have the worst of me—and the
>est—but It’s bad enough. Your
ather wouldn’t stand for"me a minute,
ind I guess he’s right. I don’t blame
lim. I blame myself. As for your
lister! Why, if Harrington knew I
vas out here alone with you he’d bring
i posse of men and shoot me on the
ipot for daring to bring you home. He
vould. He feels just that way about
ne.”
“I shall change all that,” said Jeari
vith a thrill in her voice, “I shall tell
hem how mistaken they have been in
mu. I shall tell them that was only
i kind of rough outside that you wore
-a mask that hid your inner feelings.
shall make them understand that
hey have not known the real man you
ire at all.”
“You cannot do that, little girl,” said
he man, gently leaning toward her.
It would be best for you not to try.
tell you you do not know in the least
vhat the feeling Is against me-”
“But you will help to show them,
oo,” said Jean, wide eyed with sor
ow. “You will not go‘on doing those
hings—those—well—the things that
nado them feel you were not right—”
She paused in a confusion of words,
lot liking to voice a thought against
lim. “You will not do so any more?"
ihe pleaded wistfully like a child.
You will make them see—for my
ake if not for your own you will let
hem see how wonderful you are! How
Ine you have been to me! You will
lot let them go on thinking. You will
hange it all?”
Her voice cnoked off in a sob and
or a moment she dropped her tear
vet face down upon his hands that!
leld hers. The strong man thrilled
md trembled with her touch and it
vas then he felt the most crucial mo
nent of his punishment.
He sat white and silent for a mo
nent, longing to gather Tier into his*
irms and comfort her, to crush her to
lim; but lie would not. The nobleness
n him held her sacrde because he
mew he was unworthy. Then he spoke
n a low, grave tone, and his voice had
i hollow; hopeless sound.
“I'll change, of course,” he said. “I
'ouldn't do otherwise. Did you think
t could go on that way artcf having
v VJU1I1 uu all/ ui
:he things again that I know yon
wouldn’t like. I couldn't, now that
you’ve trusted me. I wouldn’t want
o. You have made everything seem
llfferent. If it’ll please you I’ll prom
se anything you like. But o£ course I
tnow that doesn’t matter so far as our
ver having each ether is concerned.
N’othing I can do can make people for
get what they think I am. They woulft
iiever feel differently. Thep would
feel it a disgrace for yotTTospek "to
me. They'd always think you’d gone
:o perdition if you had anything to do
with me. I'm not fit for you. I know
it and there's an end of it, but I'll
spend the rest of my life trying to
mako myself what> I ought to have
Seen, if that will cemfort you any.”
The girl’s hands clung now with al
most a painful clasp, nd tears were
Iropping down her face.
“Don’t! Don’t!” he pleded earnest1
ly. “Don’t take it so. I’m not worth
it, relly I'm not. You’ll find it out
when you get to your sister’s and heat
her talk, and—forget—-about this”—
his voice broke and he lifted his face,
white with sudden realiztion of what
that would mean to him. “Oh, God!
What a foo! 1 have been!” The words
were wrung from the depths of his
soul.
Then the girl spoke, her voice calm
with a suddenly acquired strength.
‘‘Listen!’’ she said, and he wondered
at her quietness. “I shall never for
get. Never! Nothing that anybody
can say will ever make me think as
they do of you. I know you—and you
have saved my life.”
He stirred impatiently, and almost
roughly tried to draw his hands away
"Don’t talk of gratitude,” he salt
huskily.
*■*' \
i "No," she said firmly, taking his
| hands again and lay:r,8 her own with
1 in^them as before. Then he accepted
1 them as if they were a sacred trust,
folding his reverently about them.
J “I am not talking of graitude,” she
i said, and her voice was tense with
feeling. “You raved my life and I
| know what you are, and what you have
j done for me. Nothing can ever change
that, not even what you have done in
the past ;and nobdy can ever make,
, me feel differently about you. I
j know yotj.,1 trust you—I—love—you!”
Her voice was low and **veet ■as aha
j-aaid this and she did not lift her eyes.
The yo.ung man felt her fingers trem
ble within^iis own strong grasp, and
he looked down wonderingly at the i
slender wrists and thrilled with holy
awe at her words. It humbled him, .
shamed him, with a pain that was a I
solemn joy, to hear her. And he had
nothing to say. What gracious influ
ence had been at work in his behalf
that miracle so great should have been
wrought in a pure girl’s heart for him;
an outlaw—a careless, selfish, wild
man who had hitherto lived as ha
pleased, for himself, caring for no
body, nobody caring for him. He had
held his head high and gone his inde
pendent way. He hal held the creed
that the whole world was against him,
and his chief aim in life should be to
circumvent and annoy that world.
Nothing good and holy had ever come
into his life before. Knowledge he
had, and a certain amount of worldly
wisdom learned in a hard schonh and
well learned; but love, care, tender
ness,- trust, had never been given to
him even in his babyhood. No won
der he -was confounded at the sudden
treasure thrust upon him.
“I am only a very young giirl,”
Jean’s voice went on. “I know you
are right that I must not do anything
to distress my father and mother.
They love me very much and I love
them. You and I can go oar separate
ways if we must, but nobody can hin
der me from trusting you. It is
right I should. I owe it to you for [
what you have done for me—and my
love I could not help givjng you. 1 '
know "you are going to beright and
true forever; I know you will not do
those things any more that have made
people think you were not good—I
know you will always be just what I
thin kyou are now, won’t you?”
£Iis voice was low and solemn, and
his eyes held depths of sincerity as he
lifted them to her pleading ones and
answered:
“I promise you.”
“And I promise you that I will trust
you always,” she said, and thus their
covenant was made.
For a long moment they sat with
clasping hands, unaware of the beauty
of the evening, aware only of their own
two strtled, suffering spirits, that had
found and lost each other and learned
the consequences of sin. They did not
seem to need words, for each knew
what was in the other’s heart.
He raised her at last to his feet and,
bending low, whispered:
“I thank you.”
He stood a moment hesitating, then
gave her hands one quick pressure
again and turned away.
“I was going to ask something,” he
said, “but I guess that isn’t square.” i
And she stood pondering what it
might have been.
Silently he helped her on the pony
and without words they rode away into
the moonlight.
There were tears in the girl’s eyes :
when she lifted them at last and j
asked:
“And won't I see you at all? Won’t
you ever come to the house?”
There was a sound almost of tears j
in the man’s voice as he answered:
“I am afraid not.” !
After that they talked softly in tones '
that people use when they are about ,
to go apart on a long journey and may \
not ever meet again. Monosyllables, j
half finished sentences, of which each
knew the beginning or ending without i
the words. Large understanding, [
quick pain, wistfulness, longing, a .
question now and then—this was their j
i conversation. i
I '
They came at last to the brow or a ,
hill where below them at a gentle j
slope Hawk Valley lay, Its lights
twinkling among the velvety shadows
of the night. In the clear moonlight it
seemed so near, so sudden, as it lay !
just below them that Jean caught her !
breath in a cry that was almost a sob. 1
She knew without being told that the '
parting of the ways had come. By i
common consent they checked their j
| horses and made them stand side by
side. Holt put out his hand and laid i
j it on hers.
I “Don’t!” he said huskily. “I won’t *
disappoint you. No matter what any- 1
body tells you, always remember that.
I won't disappoint you! You needn’t ]
I think I’ve forgotten or changed. I ;
! don’t forget the only good thing that !
I ever came into my life. You can trust
| me!”
“I know,” she replied softly. “I know
j I can trust you. And I’ve been think
! ing. There's no reason why you
couldn't come to see me. I don’t care
what anybody thinks. You saved my
i life! I’m not ashamed of you. I have
j the right to ask you to call and to re
ceive you. My father would approve
! of that, I am sure."
(Continued Nest Week.)
The National Institute of Social Science*,
through a committee headed by Oscar
I Straus and George Gordon Battle, has
presented to Mrs. Thetta Q. Franks, of,
! Pittsburgh and New York, a medal, aa
j “the best housekeeper In America." It la
said to be the first time domestic achieve-,
ments have bee* honored,
i The steamship Mount Vernon which ar-,
rived last week brought a mystery “aoI->
■ dier" found wandering In streets of Part*
and suffering from a loss of memory.
His only knowledge of his Identity waa
i that his name was “Roland Phillips.” Ha
1 I has been found to beu Roland Philips, of
| Evansville, Indiana,
j I. W. W. Against Labor Unions, j
1...---...............-------—4
In the United States the preachers of discontent say, "All shall share
equally." In Russia, it was found that this could not be. Lenine in his speech
in April, 1918, published by the seditious Seattle Union Record, said: "At
present, when the epoch of the necessity of 'Red Guard' attacks (which mear
organized assassination) is in the main completed and completed victoriously,
is becoming urgent for the proletarian state authority (.Lcn.ne) to make UH<^, *
of bourgeois specialists. ^
"The specialists are inevitably bourgeoise.
"We have not yet created an^envifonment which would put at our disposal
the specialists.
“We were forced now' to make use of the old bourgeois method and agreed
fp a very high remuneration for the services of bourgeois specialists.
“This is a defection of the Paris Commune and of any proletarian rule
which demand the reduction of salaries to the standard of remuneration of the
average workers.
“Attracting bourgeois specialists by extremely high salaries is a defect.
"Let us assume that these" great star specialists tnU3t be paid 25,000 rubles
each, or perhaps 50,000 rubles, or even made four times as large.
We must have a thousand first class scientists and specialists to direct
the work of the people.”
This is from Lenine's own speech.
He admits that uniformity of pay is impossible. AJU f
He admits that he will not allow free press. 1 T*
He admits that he has murdered to terrify. ' .! !t'
He admits that he does not allow free speech.
He admits that the equality of pay cannot be put into effect.
He recommends hiring at enormous salaries the old managers of business.
He admits the failure of his government.
In other parts of his work he admits that the system of accounting and
production- is a Joke and convicted out of his own mouth on every page, points
cut unconsciously a warning to the real liberty loving people of the world.
He admits that he is an autocrat; that his government cannot live if the
wishes of the whole people are consulted. He admits starvation and suffering
and want, and goes on to say;
“No transition without compulsion and dictatorship.”
Speaking of the instability of his government he says, “It takes time and
an iron hand to get rid of this.”
Despite his admission of thousands of murders, he says, “And our rule is
too mild, quite frequently resembling jam rather than iron.
"People w*ho believe differently must be combatted by compulsion.”
In other words. Russia has no government, but the government of an auto
cratic murderer. Some of this same crowd of aliens have come to our shores
and actually have a dream that the workmen of the United States will join In
any such hair brained undertaking.
Of course, a number will, but just as sure as there is a God In heaven, they
will be deported; just as sure as this is a real “he man’s" country, those who
try force and violence, will be incarcerated and punished.
Labor will form the main guard against the red menace in this country, if
labor is true to its traditions. Some bolshevist leaders such as a number In
Seattle and Tacoma, Washington, have proven traitors to the A. P. of L., but
over this whole land, of course, these Judases are very few.
The I. W. W.’s are not a labor union. The I. W. W.’s are opposed to all
(abor unions. Their policy is the destruction of all industries and the over
throw of ill government. They do not strike and quit the job; they strike on
the job, against til? job, and against tj)e employer. If conditions do not suit the
union" labor'man he got” on "strike, leaving industry idle until someone takes
his place or until he returns to work. The I. W. W. dues not strike for better
wages or better conditions. The I. W. W. strikes on the job, doing what injury
Iie'TaTl. SOch as putting emery dust in machinery, spikes in logs, etc., in order
that industry may be made unprofitable.
The first doctrine a new member is taught, is the doctrine of cowardice. He
is taught to destroy what he can; to burn all he can, but to protect himself in
all emergencies, and thus it is that this organization has in its membership,
cowardly assassins and destroyers of life and property.
The I. W. W. decided long ago, after consultation and under the direction
of bolshevists from foreign lands, that the best way to overthrow our govern
ment was to gain possession of the labor movement in this country. I might
say in passing that I am not particularly popular with the I. W. W-, but the
fiead of the American Federation of Labor, Samuel (Hampers, is vary much
more hated.
--—-i
Britons’ Liberal Leader.
H. H. Asquith, in ills recent great
speech announcing that the war is
over and there Is no longer reaeon for
the party truce in England, spoke of
the League of Nations in this lan
guage:
Finally, as all history shows, there can
be no lasting or fruitful peace If it in
volves the permanent ostracism and im
poverishment of any of the nations of the
world. Every belligerent on both sides,
•very belligerent has undergone gigantic
suffering and sustained almost immeas
urable waste. It is In the interests of
ill that at the earliest opportunity each
bf us, under the appropriate safeguards
which the new peace will provide, should
Be able to restart our industries, develop
our resources, and to recreate our social
ind economic life. (Cheers.) What is
the condition? What is the conclusion
to which these considerations lead? Surely
it is to set on foot, without a moment’s
■.voidable delay, and as a living and
working machine, the League of Nations.
I do not hesitate to say that, In my opin
ion, by far the greatest achievement of
the Paris conference Is the elaboration
in a practical shape of this great and
penefleent conception (cheers), and let
mo add, by way of parenthesis, that, in
that matter, we of the British empire
awe an enormous debt of gratitude to the
mvaluable labors of my noble friend and
Idte colleague, Lord Robert Cecil.
(Cheers.)
There Is not one of the problems which
( enumerated a few moments ago the
mlutlon of which does not depend upon
Ihe effective authority of the league. The
reduction of armaments^-not only In one
quarter, but everywhere—It Is no good
reducing It In one place if you db not
reduce it all around—to a scale whloh
will put an end to the gamble in com
petitive force will be one of the first and
most, urgent of its duties. Hardly less
important Is the setting up without de
lay of workable machinery for the antici
pation, as well as for the settlement, of
nternal disputes. The common and col
lective will must have for Its sanction
i common and collective force. The door
hould be open always to any state that
Is ready In good faith to enter In. There
jiust be that sense of equality of right
md of privilege between great and small
dates which alone can insure confidence
md give to a league the breadth, not of
i machine, but of a living organization.
!f that Is accomplished, well and good,
[n my opinion it is the lynch pin of the
whole thing. The peace- vvfll not become
i lasting peace, its provisions will he
roine dead letters, tranquility will, in the
luture as in the past, be at the mercy of
t chapter of accidents, unless as Its first
ind most effective result you see the
:reation as the living and working nod
lominating force of this free organization
i partnership of all the nation/ of the
world.
The New Spring In Flanders.
The spring that comes to Flanders
Goes by o.n silent feet.
Lest they should wake, remembering
How once the spring was sweet.
And streams that flow in Flanders
Past poppy field and hill
Are silver streams and shining.
But thoughtful streams #and still.
The wind that blows in Flanders
Across the listening air,
Is gentle with the grasses
That bend above them there—
And rain that falls in Flanders
Is tender as a prayer.
—David Morton.
Burgoyne's Drums.
From the Indianapolis News.
If any one has the drums of the Roya
" Icots Fusllliers, thought to have beei
osl In this country In 1776, when tha
indent regiment came over on Ui<
justness of the king, the regiment wll
rery much appreciate news concerning
' heir whereabouts. Officers of the regl
1 nent have sought through official chap
t tels to learn from the war departmep
j x> the fate of the drums. Tradition say
* Rat the drums were lost when tha reyi
bent, then known as the North Britt.;
( rusilliers. fell a victim to the superjo
• lighting ability of an Am&rlean colorua
toroe tn the revolutionary
Canada Seeks New Emblem.
From the Christian Science Monitor.
I Probably feeling that now is a good
time to bring a national symbol up to
date, the Canadian government Is con
sidering the adoption of a tow coat of
arms. A committee has been appointed
to pass judgment on the designs that may
be submitted, and a good deal of study
i is doubtless going forward to create one
i which will eventually meet the approval
1 of the English College of Heralds and
the final authorization of a royal war
I rant declaring it the official arms of
Canada. The present coat of arms was
adopted in 1S5S, and includes the four
provinces of Ontario, Quebec, Nova Sco
i tia, and New Brunswick. To these prcrv
; inces the new coat of arms must add
i Prince Edward Island, British Columbia,
l Manitoba, Saskatchewan, and Alberta; so
i the forthcoming design will provide sorae
thing of a problem for the designer whose
, solution of It must be approved By the
■ earl marshal, three kings at arms, six
| heralds, and three pursuivant^, who
make up the College of Heralds.
The Lowest Depth.
From the Chicago Tribute.
I A dispatch from Port Leavenworth d«
| scribing the activities of William D. Hay
wood and other I. W. W.s now confined
1 there says "the average criminal hates
an I. W. W. and a conscientious objector."
We think there could hardly be a more
striking commentary on the repugnance
with which the “C. O." and the I. W. W.
are regarded in America. When even our
criminals look upon them as traitoje there
is not much more to be said. After all
| the average criminal is less subversive
! of civilization, and he has a right to
think there are depths to which he has
not fallen.
The National Outlook.
From Forbes Magazine.
A trip to middle western points and
talks with alfi sorts and conditions of
people yields the following impressions
and conclusions:
First—In most districts, Including even
I the larger cities, work is available for
evers man who wants a job. Indeed, the
| almost universal complaint is thg.t capa
■ lila rtaarltr wrnrlrnpo V- - i, _ .s
| Second—There is a veritable housing
famine in nearly every city, including
such diverse centers as Chicago and In
dianapolis, a famine as acute as In New
York city.
Third—Active preparations are under
way to launch what promises to prove an
unpi ecedented building boom, the conclu
sion having been reached by architects,
builders and others that the cost of ma
terials Is not likely to drop drastically
in the near future.
Fourth—Retail business is reported a3 *.
qui*e active, although most manufactur
ers find that buyers arc holding off wher
ever possible.
Fifth—The country's supply of food ani
mals Is the largest in its history, and
fanners are waxing rich from the unpar
alleled prices they are receiving for hogs
and cattle, as well as for their wheat
and other grains. Everywhere the agri
cultural communities are evidencing sign#,,
of their great prosperity.
An Armenian official begs America to
"continue your splendid shipments of
food through the American army food
mission and the American Red, Cross,
am! send us propaganda written by Amer
icans to he dropped by airplanes in the
bolshevist ranks. Wo must fight ideas
with ideas. Our railroad and transport
system is a wreck. Semi us soqje of tba
American railroad men who did such
wonderful work in France.”
Evidence that international marriages
do not all go one way is the fact that
Mrs. Clinton Bidwell. of Buffalo, N. Y..
wan born Countess Marie Louise DuPles
; sis. of France, daughter of the archduka
L t of Vienna, niece of ex-Emperor Franz Jo
! ser, of Vienna, and cousin of ex-Emperor
i ! Charles, of Austria. At present Mrs. Bid
l , well is in charge of an institution in Buf
; fal > for the prevention of tuberculosis
■ among children. She Is a graduate nurse,
•1 and during the war she put on overalls
t the commission of revenue. Jewish faml
! j Germans in the American occupied zone
i have learned that the Yanks are keen
r I about having their shoes shined, and
1. many Henles are now raking in the coin.
I ooUahing the boots of the doughboys.
