Evening Star Newspaper, January 11, 1925, Page 70

THE SUNDAY STAR, “WASHINGTON, D. C, JANUARY 11, 1925—PART 5. 77 ' Miss Bracegirdle Does Her Duty BY STACY AUMONIER. A Story in Which Staid Duty Leads to an Exciting Adventure. HIS A vou. Does it appear satisfac- factory to madame thank you dame madame.” vou—thank the room thank €= further require anything may I have a not too late | to room is at itement, madame The bath- | the end of the passage, on | t. 1 will go and prepare it for | “There ad a very tired. Wil yo disturbed more. T have | journey. I am ve see that I am| ing until I is one thing ng 1 please in the morn | under madame . Bracegirdle tainly t trut slecp | was speakir he tired In the Iral town Easing- | which she came, it for every one to speak It was customary, more- every one to lead a simp life, to give up time and elevating thoughts to glanc t lit Miss Ul the ideals roke pursuit of duty | the Hotel this night to Bordeaux the dean f, but the so exteusive uld miss him xo Ensland of travel | of for-| ath o fr truth w self-denying ks ad on virtues and | The to ught her Bordeaux on had to come the next d brothe He his time were licent's duty beer of had a horro vined distrust carly N d never h and an ingr The dear dean had given her end- £ her earnestly not nve n with A1l information | way officlals; in | an official uniform. tted to that he France not a woman to travel about in alo re bad peo- | satl to obtain from the police, ra was countr were loose ned with a spe rept timidly closing her ng out the d her. She in the hot L dressir Then, 1 towel bathroom, | bedroom doc light. The wallowed water. And for the since leaving home there her Dleasant moment * enjoyment in her adventure was rather an adventure, had reculiarly How old was she? )t by any means ty-three? She had She hardly ever tentialities of went, she was a n for her b th b luxt been shut | As pre- age well when able, kind re never engaged but it was a kind of For three pleasant p. H tand considera been happ. strain forever thing lacking day he w never returned married one she hoolmaster, gentleman, not actu- understood went on ding and | ntle, g0 dis- | She would to continue jin this But there was some- Stephen had curious, And then day way, vanished and They told her he had | the country girls—a gitl Who used to work in Mrs. Forbes' dairy—not a very r girl, she cared. Heigho! Well, she had lived that down, destructive as the blow ap- peared at the time QHE tidicd up the bathroom onee gripping her sponge towel and turning out the crept down the passage to Entering the room, she the light and shut the Then one of those happened—just the vou would expect to cign hotel. The handle off in her hand. quiet “Bother it with one hand occupied with the towel bag. In doing | behaved foolishly, for, thrust- | knob carclessly against the vithout properly securing Iy succeeded in pushing the | the door, and the | She uttered | and put her | and towel down on the n tried to recover the | left hand, but it had was a vears dersta was 50 & tinguish one one nt Then, nt and switched on door quickly ridiculous thing Kind of thing ejaculated sought to She and replace being and sponge the ) farth knob was into not another little e bag She with her s in too far “How very “T shall have maid, and [ gone to bed She turned and faced the room, and sudden? awful horror was upon her. Th was a man asleep in her adjuste Bothe foolish!” she to ring for the rhaps the thought. chamber- poor girl has The of that swa pillow, with its bl heavy mustach the-most terribl Her heart thy face ck tousled hair produced in her moment of her life. stopped. For some neither think nor ught was, “I on th nearly could scream, and her fir mustn’t 3 t th stood th like one paralyzed, at the man's head and the urved hunch of his body under the cl When she begah to think she thought very quickly and all her thoughts worked together. The first vivid realization was that it wasn't the man’s fault—it was her fault She was in the wrong room. She et out somehow, anyhow clutched more at the door, feverishly her finger nails into the the elusive pin had vanis tried to force her fingers in the crack and open the door that way, but it was of no avail. She w all intents and purposes, locked edroom in a strange hotel a foreigner, a Frenchman think: she must think. d_off the light. If the he might not wake up. It might give her time | 10 think how to act. It was surpris- | ing that he had not awakened. If he did wake up, what would he d How could she explain her wouldn't believe her. No one would | her. In an English hotel it would be difficult enbugh, but here— merciful heaver She must get out man? No, she He might murder too awful to ring great must She nee drivir hole where . to in lone with A man must She swit light w 2 He | believe Should she wake couldn’t do that her. Oh, it was contemplate! Should ¢ for the chamk would be the same would come rushing. find her there in the | an's bedroom after mid- | Millicent icegirdle, Dean of Easingstroke! e would strange night ter of singstr Visions ake the ke! of Easingstroke through her alarmed mind. Visions of the news arriving, women whis- pering arousd tea-tables: ‘“Have you heard, my dear? Really no one would have imagined! Her poor brdther! He will of course have to resign, You know, my dear. Have a little more cream, my love.” Would they put her in prison? She might be in the room for the purpose of stealing or—she might be in the room for the purpose of breaking every one of the ten commandmen There was no explaining it away. She was a ruined woman, suddenly and irretrievably, unless she could open the door. She thought she heard the cham- bermald going along the passage. If she had wanted to, scream, she oughy flashed | this frill it was difficult to hear any- to have screamed before. The maid would know she had left the bath- room some minutes ago. Was she | going to her room? Suddenly she | remembered that she had told the | chambermaid that she was not to be disturbed until she rang the. next mornirg. That was something. body would be going to her room find out that she was not there. * K ok x | must, of course, be the room next to her own. So confusing, with perhaps 20 bedrooms all exactly alike on one side of a passage—how was one to remember whether one's number was | 115 or 1162 Her mind began to wander off into her school days. She was always very bad at figures. She dis- liked all those subjects about angles and equations—so unimportant, not leading anywhere. History she liked, and botany, and reading about strange foreign lands, although she had always been too timid to visit them. And the lives of great people most fascinating—Oliver Cromwell, Lord Beaconsfleld, Lincoln, Grace arling—there was heroine for Good heavens t unwittingly, Millicent Brace- girdle had emitted a violent sneeze! It was finished! For the second time that night she was of her heart nearly stopping. second time that night she was ralyzed with Tear that her ment went to pieces. Now she would hear the man get out of bed. He would walk across o the door, switch on the light, and then lift up the frill. She could almost s ° |see that fierce moustached face glaring would be no mecessity to give any |yi® 1ot und growling something In explanation o any , But heav-{pench. Then he would thrust out an ens! What an exper Once un- ! PyAals e arm and drag her out. And then? Oh der the white frill bed she 5 o : % Beaven! What then? would be il ning. In kyen e e T wonl e ey DE shall scream before he does & ¥ | Perhaps I had better am now he drags me out he will clap his hand over my mouth. Perhaps chloro- form— But somehow she could not scream. She was too frightened even for that. She lifted the frill and listened. Was he moving steathily across the carpet? She thought—no, she couldn't be sure, He might strike her from above—with one of those heavy boots perhaps. Nothing seemed to be happening, but the suspense was intolerable. She realized now that she hadn’t the power to en- dure a night of it. Anything would be better than this—disgrace, imprison- ment, even death. She would crawl out, wake the man, and explain as best she could She would switch on.the light, cough, B S Lonsibus U Then he would start up and stare her. Then she say? “Pardon, monsieur, mais je—" on earth was the French for made a mistake?” “Jal tort. C'est la chambre—er— incorrect. Voulezvous—er. What was the French for | knob,” “let me go”? The resolution formed, she crawled | deliberately out at the foot of the bed. | She scrambled hastily toward the door— |« perilous journey. In a few s the room was flooded with light. turned toward the bed, coughed, cried out boldly: ““Monsteur!" Then, for the third time that night, little Miss Bracegirdle’s heart all but !s[nmn d. In this case the climax .of the | horror took longer to develop, but when it was reached, it clouded the two other experiences into Insignificar The man on the bed was dead! She had never beheld death before, but one does not mistake death. She stared at him bewildered, and re- peated almost in a whisper: “Monsieur! Monsieur! Then she tip-toed toward the bed. The hair and moustache looked extra- ordinarily black in that gray wax-like setting. The mouth was slightly open, and the face, which in life ‘might have been viclous and sensual, looked in- credibly peaceful and far away. When the full truth came home to her, little Miss Bracegirdle burled her face in her hands and murmured: “Poor fello —poor fellow! *Nalie JROR the moment her own position seemed an affairs of small conse- quence. in the presence of something greater and more all-pervad- ing. Almost instinctively the bed and prayed. For a few moments she seemed to be possessed by an extraordinary calm- ness and detachment. The burden of her hotel predicament was a gos mer troubl silly, trivial, almost comic episode, something that could be explained away. But this man—he had lived his life, whatever it was like, and now he was in the presence of his Maker. What kind of than had he been? Her meditations were broken by an abrupt sound. It was that of a pair of heavy boots being thrown down by the door gutside. She started, think- ing at first it was some one knocking or trying to get in. She heard the “boots,” however, stamping away down the cor- ridor, and the realization stabbed her with the truth of her own position. She mostn't stop there. The necessity to get out was even more urgent. To be found in a strange man's bed- room in the night is bad enough, but to be found in a dead man's bedroom was even worse. They would accuse her of murder, perhaps. Yes, that would be it—how could she possibly explain to these foreigners? They would hang her. No, guillotine her, that's what they do in France. They would chop her head off with a great steel knife. Merciful heavens! She en- visaged herself standing blindfold by a priest and an executioner in a red cap, like that man in the Dickens story— idly N abrupt and desperate plan form- ed her mind. It was already getting on to 1 o'clock. The man was probably a commercial traveler business man. He would probably get up about 7 or § o'clock, dress quickly and go out. She would hide his bed until he went. Men don’t look under their beds, although made religlous practice of so herself. When he went he would be sure to open the door right. The handle would be lying the floor though it had dropp off in the nizht. He would probably ring for the chambermaid or open it with a penknife. Men were so clever at those things. When he had would creep out and steal back to her room, and then there doing ence of that the me seemed it With feline precaution went down on her hands and knees and | crept toward the bed. What a lucky thing there was that broad white frilll She lifted it at the foot of the bed and crept under. There was sufficient depth to take her slim The floor was fortunately car- all over, but it seemed very close and dusty. Suppose she cough- ed or sneczed! Anything might hap- pen. Of course, it would be much more difficult to explain her presence under the bed than to explaln her presence just inside the door. She held her breath in suspense. No sound came from above, but under she It was almost racking than Rearing everything— listening for signs and portents. This temporary escape in any case would give her time to regard the predicament detachedly. Up to the present she had mot been able to vis- ualize the full significance of her ac- tion. She had in truth lost her head. She had been like a wild animal, con- sumed with the sole idea of escape. At present she was nbt altogether uncomfortable, only stuffy and—very, very frightened. But she had to face six or seven or eight hours of ft— perhaps even then discovery in the end! There was no solution. She began to wish she had screamed or awakened the man. She saw now that that would have been the wisest and most politic thing to do; but she had allowed ten minutes or a quarter of an hour to elapse from the moment when the chambermaia would know that she had left the bathroom. They would want an explanation. Why hadn’t she screamed before? “Of course I shan't sle on thinking, “I shan't be able to. In any case it will be safer not to sleep.” T must be on the watch.” Now that she had made up her mind to see the thing through in this man- ner she felt a little calmer. She al- most smiled as she reflected that there would certainly be something to tell the dear dean when she wrote to him tomorrow. How wouid he take it? Of course, he -would -be- lieve it—he had never doubted a sin- gle word that she uttered in her life, but the story would sound so—pre- posterous. In Easingstoke it would be almost impossible to envisage such an experience. She, Millicent Brace- girdle, spending a night under a strange man’s bed in a foreign ho- tel! What would those women think? Fapny Shields and that garrulous old Mrs. Rusbridger? Perhaps—yes, per- haps it would be advisable to tell the dear dean to let the story go no further. Oh, it was stuffy! desire to cough. that This thing. more nerv at she would say—what should What “I have she kept She felt a great She mustn’t do was the first night in her life's experience that she had not said her p ers on retiring. The situation w certainly very peculiar —exceptional, one might call it. And vet after all, what was to prevent her saying her prayers? So ilittle Miss Bracegirdle murmured her pray- ers under the strange man’s bed. Without uttering a sound she went through her usual prayers in her heart. At the end she added fervent- ly Please, God, protect me dangers and perils of this night.” Then she lay silent and inert, strangely soothed by the effort of praying. : from the T began to get very unéomfortable, stuffy, but at the same time draughty, and the floor was getting harder every minute. She changed her position stealthily and controlled her desire to cough. Her heart was beating rapidly. Over and over again recurred the vivid impression of every little incident and argument that had occured to her from the mo- ment she left the bathroom. This LOYEX YES, ONCE WHEN SHE WAS A YOUNG GIRL. =~ % | wi 1If | what was his name’—Sydney Carton, that was it, and before he went on the scaffold he said: “It I a far, far better thing that I do than I have ever done.”” But no, she couldn’t say that. It would be a far, far worse thing that she did. What about the dear dean? Her sister-in-law arriving alone from Paraguay tomorrow? All her dear peo- ple and friends iy Easingstoke? Her darling Tony, the large gray tabby cat? Any minute people might arrive. The chambermalid, the boots, the manager, the gendarmes * * * Visions of gendarmes arrlving armed with swords and note-books vitalized her almost ex- hausted energles. She was a desperate woman. Fortunately now she had not to worry about the light. She sprang more at the door and tried to force it open with her fingers. The result hurt her and gave her pause. If she was to escape she must think, amd think in- tensely. She mustn’t do anything rash and silly, she must just think and plan calmly She examined the lock carefully. There was no keyhole, but there was a slip bolt, so that the hotel guest could lock the door on the inside, but It couldn't be locked on the outside. Oh, why didn’t this poor dear dead man lock his door last night? Then this trouble could mot have happened. She could see the end of the steel 1t about half an inch down the hole If any one was passing they niust surely noticed the handle sticking out too far; the other side! She drew a hairpin back, but she only succeeded in push- ing it a little farther in. She feit the color leaving her . and a strange feeling of faintnss come over her. She darted round the room like an animal in a trap, her mind alert for the slightest crevice of .escape. The window had no balcony and there was a drop of five stories to the street below. Dawn was breaking. She went back once more and stared at the lock. She stared at the dead man's property, his razors and brushes and writing materfals. He appeared to have a lot of writing materials, pens and pencils and rub- ber and seallng wax. Sealing wax! Necessity is truly the mother of in- ventlon. It is in any case quite cer- tain t Millicent Gracegirdle, who had never invented a thing in her life, would never have evolved the inge- nius little device she did had she not believed that her position was utterly desperate. r in the end this is what she qd: i She got together a box of matches, a candle, a bar of sealing wax and a hairpin. She made a little pool of hot sealing wax, into which she dipped the end of the hairpin. Col- lecting a small blob on the end of it, she thrust it into the hole and let it adhere to the end of the steél pin At the seventh attempt she got the thing to move. It took her just an hour and ten minutes to get that steel pin back into the room, and when at length it came far enough through | for her to grip it with her finger nails she burst into tears ry, very ully she pulled it through, and, holding it firmly with her left hand, she fixed the knob with her right, then slowly turned it. The door opened! The temptation to dash out into the corridor and scream with relief was almost irresistible, but she forebore. She listened. She peeped out. No one was about. With beating heart she went out, closing the door inaudibl She crept like a little mousc to the room next door, stole in and flung herself on her bed. Immediately she did so it flashed through her mind that she had left her sponge bag and towel in the dead man‘s room! X e N looking back upon her experience she that that worst of the always considered second expedition all. She might have left sponge bag and only that the towel—she never used hotel towels— had neatly inscribed the “M. B.” She managed to retrace her steps. She re-entered the dead man's room, reclaimed her property and returned to her own. When this mission was accomplished she was indeed well- nigh spent. She lay on her bed and groaned feebly. At last she fell into a fevered sleep. It was 11 o'clock when she awoke, and no one had been to disturb her. The sun was shining, and the experi- ences of the night appeared a dubious nightmare. Surely she had dreamed it all! With was the towel there, in corner dread still burning in her heart, she rang the bell. After a short interval of time the chamber- maid appeared. The girl's eves were bright with some uncontrolable ex- citement. No, she had not been dreaming. This girl had heard some- thing. “Will please?” _ “Certainly, madame. The maid drew back the curtains and fussed about the room. Suddenly she approached the bed and whispered excitedly: “Oh, madame, I have promised not to tell, but @ terrible thing has hap- pened. A man—a dead man—has been found in room 117—a guest. Please not to say I tell you. But they have all been here—the gendarmes, the doctors, the inspectors. O, it is ter- rible—terrible! The little lady in_the bed said nothing. But Marie Louise Laucrat was too full of emotional excitement you bring me some tea, {to spare her. “But the terrible thing is—do you know who he was, madame? They say it is Boldhu, the man wanted for the murder of Jean Carreton in the barn at Vincennes. They say he strangled her and then cut her up in pleces and hid her in two barrels, which he threw into the river. Oh, but he was a bad man, madame—a terrible bad man! And he died in the room next door. Suiclde, they think, or was it an attack of the heart? Remorse, some shock, perhaps. Did you say a cafe complet, madame?” thank you, my dear. Just a cup of tea—strong tea- e “Parfaitement, madame.” The girl retired, and a little later a waiter entered the room with a tray of tea. She could never get over her surprise in this. It seemed so—well, indecorous for a man, although only a waiter, to enter a lady's bedroom. There was no doubt a great deal in what the dear dean said. They were certainly very peculiar—these French people. They had most peculiar no- tions. It was not the way they be- haved at Easingstoke. When he had gone she sat up and sipped her tea, which gradually warmed her. She was glad the sun was shining. They said that her si ter-in-law’s boat was due at 1 oclock. That would give her time to dress comfortably, write to her brother, and then go down to the dock: Poor man! So he had been a mur- derer—a man who cut up the bodles of his victims—and she had spent the night in his bedroom! They were certainly a most—how could she de- scribe it?>—extraordinary people. Nev- ertheless, she felt a little glad that at the end she had been there to kneel and pray by his bedside. Prob- ably nobody else had ever done that. It was very difficult to judge people. Something at some time might hayve gone wrong. He might not have mur- dered the woman, after all. People were often wrongly convicted. She herself. If the police had found her in, that room at § o'clock that morn- 7 i o~ ! === TOSN ¢SS SSRaaD N = S NS ing—— Tt is that which takes place in the heact which counts. One learns and learns, x % ¥ % HE washed and dréssed herself and walked calmly down to the writ- ing room. There was no evidence of excitement among the other hotel guests. Probably none of them knew about the tragedy except herself. She went to a writing table, and after profound meditation wrote as follows: “My Dear Brothe “I arrived late fast night after a very pleasant journey. Every one was very kind and attentive, the manager was sitting up for me. I nearly lost my spectacle case in the restaurant éar! But a kind old gentleman found it and returned it to There was a most amusing American child on the train. I will tell you about her on my return. The people are very pleasant, but the food is peculiar, nothing plai and wholesor I am going down to meet Annle o'clock. How have at 1 you been keeping, my dear? T hope you have not had any further return of the bronchial attacks. “Please tell Lizzie that T remem- bered in the train on the journey here that that large stone jar of marma- lade thgt Mrs. Hunt made is behind those empty tins in the top shelf of the cupbard next to the coach house. 1 wonder whether M Butler was able to come to even-song after all? This is a nice hotel, but I think Annie and T will stay at the ‘Grand’ tonight, las the bedrooms here are rather noisy Well, my dear, noshing more till | return. Do take care of yourself. “Your loving sister, MILLICENT.” Yes, she couldn’t tell Peter about it, neither in the letter nor when she went back to him. It was her quty not to tell him. It would only dis- tress him; she felt convinced of it. In this curious foreign atmosphere the thing appeared possible, but in Es ingstoke the mere recounting of the 1 FACED THE RO% AND SLELENLL ! fantastic situations would be posi- tively . . indelicate. To say that she had been to the bathroom, the knob of the door handle came off in | her hand. she was too frightened to awaken the sleeper or scream, she got under the bed—well, it was all per- fectly true. Peter would believe her, but—one simply could not conceive such a situation in Easingstoke dean- | ery. It would create a curlous little barrier between them as though she had been dipped In some myste solution which alienated her. her duty not to tell. She put on her hat and went out to post the letter. She distrusted a hotel letter box. One never knew who handled these letters. It was not a proper official way of treating them. SHe walked to the head post office in Bordeaux The sun was shining. It was very pleasant walking about among these people, so foreign and different look- ing—and the cafes, already crowded ious | 1t was | © I )/ /7 /;,_,,//,/ FUL HORROR WAS UPON HER. with chatterin the flower of - coal? & men and women, an: and the strange odor what was it? Salt? Brine? Char A military was playing in the square—very and moving It was life, and ovement bustle—thrilling rath Little Miss shoulders and k reached the post offi large metal pla lettgrs and “R Sordething offic as a little flus w warmth of the the movement and life’ letter into the slot er posting it she put her hand into the slot and flickea It round to see that there wers no foreign contraptions to impede its safe delivery. No, the letter had dropped safely She sighed con- tentedly and walked off in the direc tion of the docks to meet her sister- in-law from Paragu: ind A1l and hunched her ster. 1 found the 1 for stamped above 1t last! Her face ed the contact of put her slot o (Copyright, 1924.) Gave Glimpse Into Heart of Texas, Says Mrs. Ferguson of Campaign BY MIRIAM FERGUSON, vernor-elect of Texas. o have seemed strange to many in other parts of the coun- try that a woman should seek the office of governor in such a State as Texas—a State usually assoclated in the popular mind with broad-brimmed-hatted, he-man rule, ofttimes put into effect at the pol of a six-shooter. That Texas, the Lone Star State, carved out of the frontier of the Southwest with sword and rifle, should be the first of all to bow to petticoat rule may have seemed, in- deed, unusual—but to myself, my family and to our hests of friends from the Panhandle to the Rio Grande Valley it meant more—it meant a fight to clear the stain on our family honor. I went into my last campaign fully determined to sweep aside forever the cloud that had stood over our horizon since 191 My purpose in entering the race has already been told. Jim’'s name had been restrained from the ticket in the primary by an injunction granted just as his success in the 1924 campaign seemed sure. Seven years ago he was unjustly removed from office. T entered my name on the ballot in his place. It is one thing tosbe a housewife, busy with flowers and peach p serves and other problems doemestic, and quite another to be a guberma- torial ‘candidate in a race offering nearly a dozen choices. A woman who had baked and mended and planted petunias now became the “Ma” of the newspapers and the political opponent of the Ku Klux Klan. Days that had flown by happily for Miriam Ferguson—days serene and placid, a woman's own days—be- came short intervals divided into hours and minutes, each hour and minute too short for the things that must be done. I posed for the movies hands, made speeches—and hardly recognized any Miriam in Ma. I at- tended conferences and took orders from photographers and gave recipes to reporters. Life had changed -for the housewife over night, and I found the eyes of Texas on a hither- to obscure woman, who wanted no fame, no publicity, no political pow- er—only justice for her children. * ok %k THE platform I oftered the people of Texas was Jim’s platform with my name attached. It offered tax re- duction, rural school help and prison reform. And, though I made no claim to political wisdom, I promised to use my conscience and to follow my highest ideals in discharging the du- ties of governor. Few people who vote as they would shop, pausing at the polls for a mo- ment to scratch a few names, know the hardships that send a select few to office. But happily for me, “Farmer Jim"—a veteran of the plat- form—came to my rescue as chiet speaker. For once, a wife was well pleased to let her husband talk more than herself. I let him have the first word, and the last. Always partners, we shared the hardships and the du- ties of our last campaign for vindlea- tion. One thing especially stressed itself as the campalgn proceeded. Old friends are true—but all friends are good. On the subject of the ‘“com- mon people” I am perhaps preju- diced—but they made my campaign an experience that will always be a happy memory, in spite of its trials. The sincerity of my friends often caused Wy hagd 1o huxt but k-was shook AS “FIRST GENTLEMA! Rosk D 30 i s :‘&"”S-‘h‘fifl AR i e P BT i ! s very happy in the knowledge that the people who are carrying on in spite of heavy burdens—the common peo- ple—were my friends. In humble homes I was offered the plenty of bread won by the sweat of honest faces, and shared In hospitality that is neither Southern nor Western, but universal where hearts are true. Wherever Jim and I went, we found old friends waiting to receive us, and new friends waiting to be made. The cities, as well as the country, offered this evidence of friendship, and that glimpse into the heart of Texas was worth as much to me as the success- ful outcome of the cause for which I was fighting. Early in the campaign a new angle developed that indicated victory. ‘Woman suffrage was being put/to the supreme test. Had the struggle for equality been useless? Was the right, gained by vears of patient bat- tle, & mockery when the* showdown came? Just before the first lap.of our last journéy toward success had ' been made—with the primary pending— Jim and I went to Cameron, a thriv- ing city-town of the farm kingdom of Texas. Thousands had gathered to see the first woman gubernatorial candidate. Many came, perhaps, be- cause they were curious. They re- mained to shake hands—475 women whom I counted, in addition to the men—and for a few days Ma's right hand could not have been lifted against anything, it was so sore. But when I saw the sincerity of these people and felt the warmth of their friendship I decided that I would gladly glve up a hand—had it been necessary—to be able to render them some service. * ok ok ok 'HE milestones of the race are old history now. My name was Dlacsd on $a-ticket pf- the Iup-af primary, when the Democrats of Texas met to make what is usually a final decision. The majority given me was the vindication T had sought. If T had never reached the governor's chair. that overwhelming verdict of the people would have satisfled me. Public ‘opinion had condemned the impeachment stigma that we had Dbeen fighting to have repudiated. The g0od name of Ferguson had been re- stored by a vote of faith. Another victory for me and for the ‘women of Texas, as well as for wom- en everywhere, came when the State supreme court ruled that a woman was eligible to hold office in spite of her sex. Another effort to bring our struggle to a disastrous finish was frustrated by the unimpeachable opinion of the highest court in Texas. A new opponent, with what was re- puted to be strong backing, entered the campaign late in the race. Again the doubtful ones doubted. But not for a moment did I believe that T was going to lose. I “felt in my bones,” as my old negro mammy cook would have said, that I was going to be elected. I was. The November ver- dict was a good majority in my favor. But though the inauguration gowns resulting from that last chapter of our struggle for vindication are on the way to a Mrs. Governor—though success has been sweet, because it means the lifting of a burden that has been heavy to bear—no moment of tulfillment will be happier than the days of uncertainty before the battle, when people everywhere evidenced their faith before success came. The pledge of a farmer to give me 14 votes, “me and ma and 12 husky boys,” meant as much as the strains of an inauguration march could mean. Our vindication came before the olec- tlon. It means the happy ending of a Ldanb thab wed will be happy forever after Texas sends Miriam Ferguson back to the capitol as governor. (Copyright, 1925, in United States Britain and South America, by North merican Newspaper Allinnce a the M Naught Syndicate. All rigats teserved.) Canada, The Waves We Live In. T is rather startling to learn, and from high scientific authority, too, that we are living most of the time submerged in waves to which the greatest waves of the ocean are mere ripples in point of size. When a cur- rent of air blows across a water sur- face water waves are produced, and when a current of air blows across a surface of quiet air, or air having a different motion from the first cur- rent, then air waves are produced. These atmospheric waves we are assured, have all of the phenomena of water waves—trough: crests, foam. breakers and spray—but since the qualities of alr and water are so different the air waves have dimen- sions over 2,500 times those of the corresponding water waves. e Thus the great ocean waves of per- haps 25 feet height would have at- mosperic counterparts extending up- ward a distance of 10 or 12 miles above the earth's surface. The undulating movement of such air waves accounts in part for the intermittent gusts of wind which we notice so frequently in storms. ok o2l i S e il Amethyst's Powers. METHYST is traditionally sup- posed to have the virtue of ward- ing off or curing drunkenness. The word itself, which comes from the Greek, litevally means “not intoxieat- ing.” The amethyst also has been held to have the power to make mea shrawd in business deals