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About The Omaha morning bee. (Omaha [Neb.]) 1922-1927 | View Entire Issue (Aug. 3, 1923)
'————«—— I I . ■— Roilgh—HeWIl Dorothy Canfield M'nntlnurd I>»m Vnlrritv.) CrUt€.nd«i American jmith. live* with hi* imrciit* In t nh.n IHH. ft image near York city. Hr I* active In nil kind* of outdoor utiort. and ut 21 m rndimtol from Tolumhin univer rlty. In France, Marino Alien, about N.ale'n ««e, llveo with her Amrrieun par ent* In iJie homo of Anna Ft, liergar*. a French woman. Marine'* father In foreign hunlnong agent for an American firm, .leanne Amigorena In an old French ncr iant In the Allen family. Marine ntudien murk* and French tutd win* a prize In a inimical content. Her mother die*, leav ing her alone with her father. Neale’tt lmreut* go to Mouth America. After nev i rul month* hln mother return*, w'hlle hit, father remain* there on burtnerr. Neale i* In love with Martha Wentworth, whom lie met at college. He taken a ponition with a large lumber firm and gain* rapid promotion, meanwhile laying plan* to marry Martha an noon an pommle. Martha, with on autlmrnt of emotion, tell* Neale Hint nhe dor* not want to marry him. \rnle. after the flmt bitter pang of dis appointment, calmly ocri-pf* Manila's neon that they are unnimrd to each nt her. Martha leaven with her father l nr a year'* sojourn In llerlln, where he I an been mode exchange profennor at the unlv erslty. For a long time after this ho was haunted by the recollection of that ‘■"one, and especially by the sound of those strange, shocking sobs. Some times they woke him up at night, as though it were a sound In the room. They recurred to him at the most inopportune moments, in a train, at t ihle. as ho undressed for the night in a bedroom of a country hotel. lie would have given anything not to have heard them. He tried every thing to drown them out. lie turned again at this time to hooks, and took down from the shelves, volumes he had not looked at since college, books of speculation, ab stract thought, history. He found Gregg's marks in one or two and wondered how Gregg was liking it being a professor out In California. That was far away, and so was Gregg. And so were the books. They looked different in his hand; remem bered pages had not the same mes sage. He could not seem to put his mind on them as ho had. It wander ed to other things. Along time since he had tried to use his mind in that way. He had had mighty little time for reading abstract stuff. Unoe, starting off on a trip sure to he tiresome, with u long wait in the late evening at Hooslck Junction, he i hanced to put into his valise a vol ume of Emerson. He read the news paper on the train up, the news, the iinunciai page, and what was going on in the world of sports. But he left the paper in the train, and ns he settled himself for the dreary wait iii the dreary, dusty, empty station lie opened the Kmerson. What were some of those places he used to think so fine? . . . "Society is ft joint stock company in which the members igree, for the better securing of the lread to each shareholder, to sur render the liberty and culture of the eater. The virtue in most request is conformity. Self-reliance is its aver sion. It loves not realities and cre ators, but names and customs. Who so would be a man must be a non conformist. . . . "The other terror that scares us from self-trust is our consistency, a reverence for our past act or word. . . . But why should you keep your head over your shoulder? Why drag about this corpse of your memory, b-st you contradict somewhat yoii have stated in this or that public place? Suppose you should contra dict yourself; what then? it seems to be a rule of wisdom ... to bring the past for Judgment into the thou -i mi-eyed present, and live ever in i new day. Leave your theory as Joseph his coat in the hand of the harlot, and flee!" He slammed the book shut again. It made him feel as that confounded music had, stirred up, restless, un happy, ashamed. It was a voice from mother sort of world, a voice that lie would rather not hear, because there was nothing to be made of what it said. What could you do , .bout it? Neale detested stirring up ' ideas about which there was nothing to he done. And he knew a great deal more now than he once had .'bout the many, many things that could not he done. Ho made an impatient, rebellious posture. Summoning? That was all very well. But to what? To some thing better than he had. more worth while than he was? Well, what was there? AVhere could it be found? Those vague high-sounding phrases w;cre easy enough to write, but what <<nild you do about It In real life? What was tho matter with what he had? lie got up and walked restlessly around the dreadful little room, help loss before Its bareness. A whistle sounded down the track. He looked at his watch. No, his train was not due for half an hour yet. He went t > the door and watched a through freight roll past, noting the names on the cars as they flashed Into the light from the station-agent's win dow,—N'. Y. Central, Pere Marquette. Wabash, Erie, Boston and Maine,— shoes and groceries and hardware, ructural-steel, cement—all the thou sand things needed every day to 1 • *p the wheels of dally material life moving, all made, bought and sold, shipped and handled by men like him. All necessary honest goods, all nec ' -sary honest work . . . but that couldn't be all of life! The train pounded off. the silence of the night closed in on him, and. In that silence ho heard the echo of those appalling s'ihs, and the slam of the door. Queer thing, human life was, wasn't it? As he filled his pipe It came to him ti.it once before he had felt the same aching restlessness, so intense that it was pain. That was the time when had gone stale. He’d been put out of the game, and had Bat on the side lines eating his heart out. He was there again, gone etale, out of thn grime. He had the strength, he hud the speed, now as then. Why was It he stood outside the game? Other men were giving their souls to it. Maybe he whs a quitter, after nil There had certainly been quit ting or something the matter in hie relations with Martha . . . how empty life was without Martha. . . . Hut he w-as mighty glad he wasn't go ing to marry her. He_was a fine specimen anyhow! ‘Well now-, well now',” he shook himself together, "let s consider all this. What’s the best thing to do when you go stale and have a slump?" Atkins had showed him what to do that other time. He had actual ly profited by it In the end, profited Immensely by being temporarily out of the game, so that he could con sider und understand the real inward ness of what it was all about. Why, perhaps that was what, he needed to do now, pull out for a while, get away from the whole thing, look at It from a distance, get a line on what it was all about. He sucked on his pipe, cocking his head sidewise to look at the ceiling, his hands deep In his pockets. There was nothing to hinder his taking a year off. He had money enough. And not a lie on earth to prevent his do ing as he pleased. He'd lose his job, of course. Bu.t he didn’t seem to be just madly in love with his job any how. And there were other jobs. "Well, by George, why not?" Where should he go? Anywhere that wasn’t the lumber business. There was the whole world, the round globe hurtling through the infinite. What In God's name was ho doing In Hoosick Junction? There Was England; and France; and Italy; and after that, why. any where again! Wherever he pleased . . . the East, China, and where there were Malays and jungles. When his money gave out, if lie still want ed to stay on ho could earn his liv ing as well there as here. "There!" That meant anywhere else. Any where else must be less dusty and frowsy and empty than here. Why under the sun had he not thought of this before? Their damned old labels do stick after all. But he would soak them off! His heart unfolded from Its painful tight compression. The way out? Why had he been so long In seeing it? The way out was to put on your hat and go. CHAPTER XXXVI. I Ashley, Vermont, May, 1904. Horace Allen's cousin was aston ished to the limit of astonishment by the news, and cried out accus ingly, "Why, I thought the other time it was only because flora want ed to go. I thought you thought it would put you on the shelf alto gether. I thought you hated it.” Horace considered this. sitting heavily on a bench while Cousin Hetty pruned a near-by rose bush, rigorously Although she did not break In on his silence with n, “Well?'' or, "Hid you hear what I raid?" she made him quite aware that she was relentlessly waiting for his answer, "Well, I did,” he admitted finally, "and I do yef. And it did put me on tho shelf. That'a all I’m good for now. It’s because of my experience in Bayonne they wunt me to take charge of tho Paris office.” “You don't have to go if they do,” she pointed out; and this as she ex pected, brought out the real reason. "Those four years in France have spoiled me for a living here,” he said and awaited doggedly her Inevitable cr.v of amazement. "You!” She stood up from her shorn rose-bush, her huge shears In one clumsily-gloved hand, a large thorned spray in the other, "Well for good ness' sake, how?” He was in no haste to answer this either, meditating silently, the spring sun pouring an incongruous flood of golden young light on the sagging heaviness of his middle-aged face. Cousin Hetty let him alone again, and went on with the ruthless snip! clash! of her great shears. When he rose again to the surface, it was witli a two-fold explanation. "Everybody that's worth anything over there has learned how to do Ills job. No slap-dash business. And there's plenty of cheap slave labor. You’re waited on! You're made com fortable. Y'ou've heard people talk of he charm of European life. What they mean is cheap labor. There's nothing more charming for the em ployer.” "Well!” contented Cousin Hetty. After a time she remarked, resolutely gathering up the villainously prickly shoots she had been cutting off, "I should think you'd he sort of asham ed of the slave-labor part of It. An American!” She was not one to hesitate, either to handle thorns herself, or to thrust them upon others. ”Oh, I am,” admitted Marine's fa ther casually, and then as though it gave him a faint amusement to shock her, ‘‘1 forgot to mention their cook ing and good ■wines.” She scorned to take any notice of this, going on, “And I should think,” P-O-l-R-E-T New Autumn Dresses Special August Prices Minor Alterations Free 1818 Fomas The Baltimore & Ohio offers an almost endless variety of vacation tours to Atlantic City, New York, Jersey and New England Coast Resorts, em bracing Washington and many of the Lakes and Springs scat tered through the hills and val leys of Indiana, Pennsylvania, Maryland and West Virginia. The Circle Tours with their wide choice of routes permit, if desired, a sail on the Great Lakes, an ocean voyage and boat trips on the Hudson and St. Lawrence Rivers. The rail journey from Chicago may be made a delightful ex perience by the use of the new Capitol Limited an all Pullman train (including club car—observation library car) which provides the maxi mum of comfort and conven ience in travel. Our raprssantativt will assist in plan ning your trip. L. O. Reynold*, Dilt. Pr. ft Pas*. Rap. Room 807, Woodman of the World Bldg. Phone Atlantic 2490. Omaha, Nab. Baltimore £ Ohio6*: 'Americas first railroad m \ _Established 1027 _ ' I 30 Chicago ^Limited Lounge Car Train Diner Serving Dinner and Breakfast —Ready at 6:00 P. M. CHICAGO 8:05 A. M. WESTBOUND Cantral Standard Tima Leave Chicago 5:30 P. M. Arrive Omaha 7:00 A. M. 6:15 P.M. 8:10 A. M. Travel Bureau and Ticket Office 1508 Farnam Street AT-lantic 5578 or 6831 she stayed her steps for a moment, ns she turned away to Carry the prunedoff trash to tha spot where t lie spring lion fire with Its exquisite colls of blue smoke faintly dimmed the exquisite clarity of the mountain air, "1 should think that if you found good workmanship such a line thing, you might try to do something to wards getting more of It In your own country, instead of Just going off where It grows already." "Oh. heavens! you don't see me try ing to ‘make the world a better place to live In,’ do you? AVhat sort of Harold-the-Upllfter do you take me for?” he protested, with a yawn. Cousin Hetty stepped off to the smoldering bon fire, threw her arm ful of rejected life on the flames, and came hack, her waited elderly face looking stern. (Continued In The Morning Bee.) Adele Garrison “My Husband’* Love” Is There Something Jim Wishes »o Tell Madge Alone? It was my flashlight whose rays found .Tim first, and though the light from Katie’s played upon his bound figure but a few seconds later, I had time to clap my hand over her mouth and silence the terrified scream which tore from her throat at the sight of her husband. "Keep quiet,” I muttered sternly. ‘‘He isn't hurt, I’m sure, but you don’t know who may tie near us." "t lie no goot." she whispered humbly, "erf you shotist let ni» go by my man." "Of course, silly," I whispered back. “I’Ut out the flashlight, keep close to me and don't utter a sound.” "I not breathe, me." she promised earnestly, and in the darkness, we grouped our way toward Jim. I fumbled first with the gng, and found that it had been »o carelessly tied that Its removal was an easy thing. “Don't try to speak Jim, for a little," I warned in a whisper. “Let the stiffness wear away from your mouth first. Katie, spread your coat «jver Jim's hand and hold your flashlight under It, so that I can see what I'm doing." She obeyed me scrupulously, and I set to work on the securely knotted bonds. It was a tedious task, and Katie's sense of deference was not proof nnf.-ilnst the feminine instinct to say, "I told you so." "Maybe you wish now you had dot bee* knife you make me put down— no?—yes?" She whispered slyly. Jim saved me the admission I would have felt bound to make. From hi* stiffened lips came the one word explosively: "Pocket:" I grasped hi* meaning at once, but It was several seconds afterward that I realized he had almost shouted the word, taking no precaution against being overheard. "I/Ook In his pockets, Katie." I said quickly. "1 think he has a knife there." *'I know eet," she answered, hand ing mo the llushliglit and rummaging through the pockets of her spouse. "I bceg fesd no link of dot before. Hero eet is." She held up her hand triumphant ly. and the nett moment, wlih the aid of her strong teeth, hsd opened the blade. Tbit she did not hand the knife to me. "You better hold coat nnd flash light, let me cut," she said uneasily but authoritatively. "I more used to knife like dees.” "You are right, Katie," I assented readily. Within a few seconds she skillfully had cut the bonds confining Jim's wrists and ankles, mid with both of us helping him. he got up to his feet, staggered a bit and then spoke, slowly 11s is his wont, but with no marked effeetd of the treatment to which he had been subjected. "1m al! right," he assured us, and I knew by his voice that ho was speaking the truth. But there was a suppressed excite ment In hla tone, foreign indeed to stolid Jim. and semetbien- .’• > indefinite In his manner an he moved forward with Katie s huh u.iu .. his—she persisted in toe delusion tha> j he could not walk without her aid—! khm> me ft sudden queer little Intui tion that his excitement concerned me in some manner, and that he was only waiting Kalin’s temporary ab sence to tell me about it. Katie had no Intention of le-lug absent for some time to come, how ever. iter anxiety for .lim'-i safety allayed, she wss ready to Indulge her cinema-fed soul with all the thrills to bo gleaned from the situation. ■'.Teein! .Teem!" she pleaded in a stage whiiqtcr. "Did dot bootlegger get avay?” ‘‘He sure did." Jim replied in or dinary tones, "clean as a whistle." "Hush-h!" Katie warned dramatical ly. "Maybe Homebody hear." "Tile whole world can hear now,” Jim returned a bit despondently. "The fellow’s gone, and the man—" lie stopped short, went back labor ously. “The fellow's gone a long ways by now, arid there'* nobody else around to hear, so there is no use whispering.” "The trooi>er didn't pass your way then?" I asked. Jim was unconscionably long in an swering, I thought. “Ye-es," he said at lost, "but what’s that?” The Italian departmsent of emigra tion has received 450,000 application* from Italian citizens desiring to emi grate to the United State*. On a Paradise Isle In ( tenneat*? Lake. Waeollia. Miiine* sola. ZQ mile* from Minneapolis, is located the CONEY ISLE HOTEL A real home-like rummer resort, away from all noire and traffic Excellent fiahin* with abundant black bass. Kifie bathing beach- Dancing. boating, ten nis, croquet and horseshoe. EXCELLENT TABLE SERVED FAMILY STYLE RATES U SO to $4.00 per day. $16.00 to $2230 per week. For folders and Omaha reference* write J. W. ZEGLIN, Prop. Wsconrs, Minn. Loading car of household goods for Chicago first of next week. Car for . Los Angeles Aug. 15. If interested phone Paul Fleming, Terminal Ware house Co., JA 1504. BEE WANT ADS BRING RESULTS. Omaha Coal Dealers Paid . MAH A is unlike most cities when it comes to “The coal p r o b 1 e m.” St. Louis, Chicago, Denver and Kansas City have coal fields right at their “back door” .. . Omaha’s coal all comes from far away points. Freight is the biggest item in the cost of Omaha’s fuel. Last year Omaha dealers paid more than a million and a half dollars to bring Omaha’s coal supply to their yards for local distribution. Figure what this GREAT FREIGHT BILL means to you. Omaha is a city of 200,000 people. If every person living in Omaha were to pay their share of this freight bill, a tax of more than $8.00 would have to be made. The average family in Omaha consists of four and a half persons to the family. At this rate more than $86 of the average coal bill each year goes to pay THE FREIGHT. Omaha’s coal comes from nearly every coal field in the country. We use Pennsylvania Anthracites, Arkansas Semi-Anthracites, Illinois Soft Coals, western fuels of all kinds. Picture if you will the dif ference in the retail price of coal were these coal fields located near at hand. The Freight on a Ton of Coal to Omaha Is Shown Below: Pennsylvania Anthracite, $8.95 Arkansas Semi-Anthracite, $4.25 Illinois Soft Coal, $3.71 Wyoming Coals, $4.97 Steam Coal, $2.61 0 THE ASSOCIATED RETAILERS OF OMAHA Watch this series of COAL BULLETINS. They are being published that you may become better posted on Omaha’s COAL PROBLEM.