Evening Star Newspaper, February 28, 1926, Page 86

2 BULGARIAN BET BY SHIRLEY SEIFERT 3 Elizabeth Had Planned Her Career With No Thought of Complications “Babies don't interfere with your work. That is, they needn’t. I'm doing splendidly this Spring. Did you see the pictures of the Haynes-Bur- ford wedding in Sunday’'s paper? Precious Bet, is there a fly on oor es, we were talking of the Haynes-Burford pictures. They were good, but we wondered if they didn't seem a trifle hurried—that is, gneg- lected, for you. But then, they were splendid, of course! I suppose you'll be entering something very fine in the competition ‘l the national con- vention in June?” “Yes, oh yes, I'll enter,” said Eliz- abeth and cut two laps off her morn- ing walk because right then she found herself at the door of her apart- “For cat's sake!"” she said, “Is this your idea of telling me before I started?” » The girl left in great offense. But by that time Bulgarian Bet was screaming at such a rate that noth- ing else mattered much. Elizabeth could find no external excuse for the noise and knew that she couldn’t be hungry for another hour. “I wish you could see yourself,” said Elizabeth. “I do wish you could see yourself in one of those spasms, though you wouldn’t appre- clate it. You haven't any sense. I doublt {f you ever will have—but, if you should develop, I wonder how vou'll feel about this dirty trick vou've played me. I've got a good notion to take your picture so and ow vour attitude toward matrimony and children.” “Did she insinuate that I wasn't fit care for a child?” d hot defi-| The doctor stopped at once. e absurd! “That is a positive insult—coming which | from Peggy. If I can’t take care of a ed ies | baby, it's the first thing in life I on | couldn’t do better than Peggy Harka- way. I'll show her.” > of | “And you, too!” her tone implied. kled | Then she picked up the undesired blue sy isn't S5 he sweet ainly is [{] B ance at bundle the of flesh : the cak not beth biue eyes bur W \ of human compos or insis nd 1 Tarkaway's | to Dr Ho: idlotic whit vith in glad that you have decided .ry at | to accept the responsibility after all,” Pyl | said the doctor. “And for fear that hite | vou might become confused, 1 had di- rapped | rections typewritten and put into the o on | basket of the baby's clothing which & \\halen | messenger is taking to your apart- I'm oid enough to know my own mind ketching, all of that autiful pictures so lan’t draw a line. Some- | al [sonal niceties which had been as and hour or more which she spen burns and co ent ' given other trom-; He s w him once and | balcony mak-|a per whistled softl He skipped med that {or But | whom doesn’t it seem dow should have to be that she can‘t car child, that she should have to g0 to a | to be the victim of “But none of this happened on purpose, really. Your sister was not glad to unload the care of her daughter on you." “How do you know that?" The doctor spoke on—in a would-be soothing manner. “You see, she, too, told me about Sou two sister understands me “Very well.” One thing you' have forgotten al- 1dy. You haven't asked the baby's ame. <1 didn’t vet.” suppose she had one— Her mother would like her :d Elizabeth.” ve to be e Elizabeth Whalen.” W-h-a-t hope you don’t mind. I took the clation as a compliment.” t sounds exactly like Peggy Hark awa With which uninterpreted fling, Eliz- abeth fairly ran from the scene. She was still seething when she her studio. The baby cried. hungry. A glance at the nd at the schedule prepared b len, which with the baby's Irobe had reached home ahead of abeth, told the new guardian,that |much. There was even one bottle of |food in the baby's basket. The baby | consumed it and went back to sleep. | But, my stars, in another three hours Elizabeth must secure from the spec! fied dairy enough Bulgarian buttermilk for five more feedings to carry over 24 hours Later, having five bottles filled with - thick white stuff in a row on a shelf {in the kitchenette, Elizabeth went in tg look at her baby. ‘Bulg & B an Bet,” she pleaded, “have o LGARIAN BET, as turned She it happened, rather good | baby. played at first an equable temperament and a predilec tion f leep that was amazing if you considered her parents. If Bet hadn't been good Elizabeth would have gone raving cr In those three months ime to understand how women, they became mothers, lost the of their husbands. Certain per- cas. day as food ed “at once The half on relax and toning up her hair and com- ion each afternoon went now for out to be a di ntial to ever. were elimi without time for argument. ual and ess |and sleep apartment reeked \ Already social callers at udio were dropping off. Nobody now came regularly except Dr. Whalen suspected him of be- the effect of the d on Elizabeth’s professional stand- On one of his early calls the doc ng of Peggy. advised (since mother’s symptoms had been of | incipient tuberculosis) that the baby be as much outdoors as possible. ing ELIZABETH d that the crib on the fire-escape was not enough. He specified mbulator. Thereafter for a half ery morning and a whole hour afternoon Elizabeth pushed a carriage up and down Patton evard. As a publicity stunt the de was a success, and emphatical- something to look at. Al the liter- ati, intelligentsia, and members of al- Tis groups found reasons for coming ame without reason those days to Patton boulevard. There taunts and giggles she swallowed with sufficient difficulty the thrusts which began -|with purrs of sympathy she would not down. “You oor dear!” said a woman Slizabeth especially disliked. She was the wife of a photographer so entrenched in public favor that both he and his wife had been absolutely genial to all others of their profession Slizabeth Harkaway. | “You poor d said his wife to Eliz- abeth with the perambulator. “How queer it seems for you to have a baby!" “It would be queer under the cir- cumsta s, sald izabeth, “if I really had one. This is my married sister’s, I'm just borrowing it. “Dear me! I didn't mean that! Did I sound like that? 1 meant—we all never dreamed that you would endure such interference with your work.” {up to the ris ment. * ok ok ok LL the way up on the elevator dhe sputtered. By the time she had settled Bet on the fire escape and changed into a fresh frock to be ready for an appointment, some of the in- flammation had gone out of her feel- ings. Coldly critical now, she realized that the quality of her recent work did trouble her. It had always dis- satisfied her because she was ambi- tious. She still labored conscientious- ly, often stealing precious hours out of her broken night to finish a folio of prints which must look like so many crayon portraits etched by a gifted hand, that the lay world should not guess her weariness, her distrac- tion. And the lay world did not guess, had not so far. Even the dig of tha morning had been only a masked cry of envy. The Haynes-Burford pictures had meant a big check, went far toward covering nursery and sanitari- um charges for that month. It was just what Elizabeth alone knew that troubled her. She had gone to tuke the bride pictures, protesting to her- self and Dr. Whalen (as she arranged for a temporary nurse) that she was dead sick of making hard-boiled flap- pers look like Madonna lilies in tulle veils. And any artist admits to him- self, if to no others, that sucéess can- not be huilt on work which one's heart has forsaken. But, oh, what a let-down for Eliza- beth! 'She remembered well how she had felt that day two months back, just before Peggy's descent, when she had heard of the prize award to be made at the June convention for the most strikingly individual and artistic portrait studies made by professional photographers of the Nation. Eliza- beth had sung and chattered and beamed inside and out over an au dacious notion that possessed -her then. She had made her mark local- Iy but here the gods had given the chance to show the world that she was something of what she meant to be. The she now bition.' The lovely, fragile old family. appointment for which ed concerned this am- model was a girl, the daughter of an old She was to pose in period costumes, lizabeth had counted on piquancy and dainty charm in these pictures—but the sit- ting went wretchedly. The best she could capture, was the girl's pret- tine: Prettiness wasn't enough for prize-winning pictures. And, be- fore the hour was over, Bet began to very dr , what was that?” said the Sounds like a baby,” said Eliza- beth, crossly. HAD A FEELING THAT IN ANOTHER MINUTE SHE MIGHT BE HUGGED. “Why, the ide: I didn’t know you had a baby. d “I haven't. It's my sister's.” Hadn't somebody better see the matter? It's crying Nothing's the matte; Then why should it cry so?" abies,” pronounced Elizabeth, “cry chiefly for two reasons—perver- sity and exercise.” xercise? How funny!" “Yes.” Elizabeth made an invol- untary pass with her hand over her forehead. “Does your head ache, Miss Hark- away? TI've a new bromide that's really awfully good.” “Thanks. 1 don't take bromides.” “Don’t you really? I know they're not supposed to be good for you. But I never could be a martyr.” No, I don’t suppose you could.” Miss Harkaway, would you mind telling me if you have some especial purpose in taking these pictures? I mean, were you going to use them for some public exhibit? You see, T happen to be engaged. It isn't an- nounced vet, but it will be next week. The Rodericks wouldn't like me hung at a world's fair or something. So I though I'd better tell you before you started.” Elizabeth had ruined 12 plates. & you been? keep it for evidence.” * ok ok % 'WITH angry bangs and pushes she placed her camera and fired off a few rounds at the screaming child —and when the noise still persisted atter that, Elizabeth vented her de- sbalr in some tears of her own. “No,"” sald & voice In the door, “the bell is not out of order. It can't be heard above the uproar. What Is this—a contest? Do you need a ref- eree?” Dr. Whalen with characteristic disregard of formality had entered the apartment. He was hatless and carried a steaming pail that smelled Spanish. In spite of herself Elizabeth sput- tered into a species of hysterical mirth. “Have you ever tasted my mac?” continued Doctor Whalen. 'No, of course not."” et here I am, the best dresser of macaroni on this continent and feed- ing my delicacies to a lot of saintly sisters, when right in the block 18 a lovely 'young lady so occupied with bottling buttermilk that she's starv- ing. And so I—" Elizabeth's mouth shaping a rebuke suddenly lost its moblity. “Hold {t!" she cried imperiously. Don’t you blink or move until I say s0.” There he stood, an eminent doctor, pursued continuously by telephone and telegram, immense in his way, im- pressive for all his absurdity, dominat- ing and yet pudding-soft in his kindli- ness, a mountain of a man personally and physioally, with a steaming gran- ite kettle at the end of his bared arm —and so Elizabeth took his picture. And felt poise and power flow back into her. “There are dishes in the kitchen cupboard,” she instructed the model after that, “and a bottle for Bet in the icechest. ~ Would you mind serving lunch while T try to capture that air of heavenly grace which Bet is trying to put over on us right now? I'm col- lecting evidence on her. Personally, I think she’s going to be Peggy all over again.” It was a pleasant lunch. The baby cooed and the doctor’s eves were less tired than Elizabeth had ever seen them. _ “You are a nice person,” she said impulsively when it was past time for him to go, “for a baby doctor.” “Thank you.” He smiled at her al- most shyly. Over Elizabeth swept a tenderness. chili * ok Kk HE photographic convention met the first week in June. The awards in the prize competition were to be made the first day from exhibits hung in the rose room of the old Buck- ingham Hotel. Shortly before the date Elizabeth walked the floor in an agony of indecision. The wife of her rival in business had spread the report that she was to compete. There was no possibility of withdrawal. But Eliza- beth had nothing to offer. This called for something better than she had ever shown her little world. In all “that mess” there was only one set of portraits which she could be proud to exhibit and she was ashamed to be proud of those. They were bound into one old black folder. But In the end she snatched up the follo and some poster-board and set She returned to her apartment, head up, cheeks burning and the light of combat in her eyes. Bet was sleeping peacefully in her cilb, watched over by a sad-eyed wom- an. She was an emergency nurse recommended by St. Mary's, a Hun- garian widow from the charity ward who had lost her baby. “Be there early tomorrow,” said Elizabeth. “Seven o'clock. I expect to be out all day and I want to be sure you understand everything to do for the baby.” At 8 the following morning Eliza- beth left her studio, but she did not appear at the Buckingham until 8:30 that evening. She knew she looked well, that the jade green of her gown brought out the freshness of her skin and the brightness of her perfectly dressed hair, that every- thing about her was just right from the tight band of pearis at her throat to the new brocaded slippers on her feet. But she also knew that her best beauty would not explain the murmur that arose when she entered the assembly. Out of the murmur a dozen voices cried tidings to her. Elizabeth Harkaway, where have ‘We've been combing the town for you. You've won first place. Come and see!" Trembling, Elizabeth let herself be led into the rose room, where the group of six portraits which she had reluctantly submitted the night be. fore had now been separated and the individual numbers thrust out in various conspicuous places. There was Bulgarian Bet, three phases of her, and these not commonplace ideal- izations of iInfancy or the conven- tional revelations with which mothers are known to embarrass their grown young. They were perfect llkenesses, finished with Elizabeth’s pet trick of crayon etching—but each was a ludicrous embodiment of human char- acter in a primitive stage—the puny, impotent, screaming rage, the ma- terfalistic, kicking content over a well filled bottle, and the cherub sweetness borrowed from the angels. There was the sad-eyed Hungarian nurse, her lap inadequately occupied by her roll of crochet, her hands not twitching only because they were busy with a needle. A Niobe dumb in her bereavement. There wére the two of Dr. Whalen. A ELIZABETH turned a bit dizzy. So she couldn't credit her eyes when they presented to her a vision of the doctor himself, moving through the crowded room—the doctor but- toned into immaculate, formal eve- ning dress, his face almost as fresh 18 her own, his hair cut within an inch of totally eclipsing his per- sonality. “Are you angry?’ she wanted to know. “Angry? No. Why in the world— oh, you mean the pictures. I'm proud. Prouder than I was when I got my diploma.” Elizabeth turned away and held herself in a sort of tight anticipation. She had a feeling that in another minute she might be hugged. She wasn't. In that other minute she recalled that such a thing couldn't happen—there—and felt oddly for: lorn. ‘“‘See how I used you and Bet!” she faltered. “We owed you at least that much, TR iy (1 il Aunt Elizabeth. And we're decidedly taken with your looks tonight, I must say. Triumph becomes you. It's done you good to hobnob with your old friends again for a whole day.” Elizabeth laughed. “I've spent the day parlor,” she confessed. “Good for you. It was worth the expenditure—of time." “And money. You see, I .didn't dream that this would happen. I was rather desperate last night. I couldn't see a chance for an award. I couldn’t cut the whole thing and I was bound no one should look at me and sav, ‘Poor Elizabeth." But you're rather fine yourself now. You haven't come directly from the hospital this time.” “No, I haven't. Left my first as- sistant in full charge. I spent today in a Turkish bath.” Even Elizabeth’s sympathetic indig- nation wouldn't keep her from laugh- ing. “Of course, in a way I deserved it,” snorted the doctor. “On occasion, you yourself have mentioned absurdity. diet, exercise.” “It's the plctures,” said Elizabeth. “They do offend you. But I didn't take them because you were absurd —or overweight. 1 thought you splen- did. And see what you've done for me against my will. Remember how 1 fought against keeping Bet? And do you know what I'm planning to do now? I'm going to take Bet under my arm and Sophie Ahrens by the hand— to help with the housework—and hunt a cottage in the country and spend three months being a perfect aunt to that infant.” “Ye: And you can come down for a holiday once in a while if you like." 'm strong for that and everything else about the plan except the baby. You deserve a real vacation—without a care. You have done your part well and your release is past due.” “But_I don’t want to be released— now. 1 don't want to be released any more than I wanted to be bound in the beginning." “‘And again you aren't master of your fate,” he said. 4 “Why? Is Peggy well—all of a sud- en? in a beauty “‘No, she'll have to stay where she is a little while longer. It's the father. 1 heard from him last night.” “No!" “Yes. He's a very contrite person. He was quite desperate over quarr ing with your sister and he didn’t now about the baby. Now, of course, e's willing to take he ‘Willing? Well, he can’t have her.” “Elizabeth, don't- “I'm going home to Bet.” The doctor fairly held her by her arm while a taxi was summoned. In it, Elizabeth turned to him. “If he really comes for her, I'll have to give her up, won't I? The law will he ‘is his?" “Yes. I'm so sorry. T dreamed that you would feel like thi “How did you think I would feel? “Well, T could only go by what you've always said. About the inter- ference to your career. Truly. I was sorry for you. So I went to a great deal of trouble to hunt up this father and remind him of his duty “Dr. Whalen!" And that was spoke to him. 'EEE IXACTLY two weeks later, when the hush of sleep lay over most of the city and heavily over peaceful Patton boulevard. Elizabeth Harkaway rang the nighthell beside the main door of St. Mary's. want Dr. Whalen at once,” sald Elizabeth. “I'm afraid Whalen."” i “Don’t tell me that. Tsn't he here?” <. He had a dificult operation at :30 and has just gome to bed. I can’t call him out except in a matter of life and death. If you will tell me your trouble or his assistant—-" “This is life—or death, siste him that Ellzabeth Harkaway and the baby is dreadfully sick. call him.” The sister drew back a step. “Oh!" she said, knowingly. “You are Miss Harkaway. Wait here, then, while 1 telephone to his room. Will you sit in the parlor?” But Elizabeth paced her head bowed over the infant. never the last word she you can't see Dr. Tell is here Please the corridor, So when the doctor came down the steps there was not a great deal of differ ence between the looks of the living woman in her somber role and the painted marble Madonna who guarded the door to the reception room. Had Elizabeth realized his expression as he contemplated the hovering posture | of the two women, she would not have troubled at his first stern word. “Well?” Elizabeth agtually cowered as if a lash had been laid over her shoulders. Then she drew herself together and raised her head, turning resolutely to face her accuser. He had girt about him a brown bathrobe so worn and disreputable as to be famous in hos pital annals, tempting every woman patient of sufficient means to offer him a futile parting gift of a new one. His eyes were heavy and, she thought, cold. “I don't care what you do to me,” ehe said. “You can put_me in jail if you must—afterward. Now it's the baby. I think I've killed her.” He uncovered the face, touched the cheek, pushed up one eyelid ster Angelica! Will vou please take this baby to the third floor to Miss McCarthy and ask her to bathe the child and put her into bed. I'll be up presently.” “Don't be so casua beth. he may die “Ultimately she will. PEEE THE hall was empty, save for the marble Madonna, the physician and Elizabeth Harkaway, artist-pho tographer. “Where have you been, Miss Hark- away? You've had me in a fine stew.” “Down the river hiding.” “Why did you do such a thing” “I don't exactly know. I thought T must. or something. 1 couldn't give her up to a temperamental father who wanted her only In a spell of emation and might later neglect her. I thought he wasn't fit to have her.” “And your career?" “I don't know. 1 just save the baby. And now see! “Elizabeth Harkaway, there severe penalty for kidnaping! " cried Eliza Not tonight.” wanted to is a | iooked T'd got so used to the bahy | | | “I suppose so. 1!don't care. | caan reach me at the apartment Doctor Whalen smiled at her “No, you don't," he said ! right here until we settle th live to be 100—which | not get over the fr I thought you'd close for the last time. way a week put on all the fine linen excuse for to propose to you de- |cent style. Tonight 1 feel—and 1 must look—Ifke the devil's comi But my sentiments remain th Now I know your sentiments Iy. You long chose ne marry—but, Elizabeth, will | me the honor of refi g too?" B “What amazement back. The :turning s that of Lot's wife ir he doctor smiled and | acious arms. zabeth, honey gondest, sweetest, contrarie pret tiest, allround woman that 1 eve | saw You're the only woman [ ever wanted to marry, but I do want yor | And you can trample on me for the | rest of n e if you'll only conside w e Elizabeth went all to pieces | the freshet. she rubbed her h that awful bathrobe, lifted th looked at that bathrobe and “You're going to live to re | she warned hing's the same ever—for either ¢ thing, you're going to burn this.” “That's all right, my Bet. If I'm not mistaken, we’'ll both have rubbish to burn “Bulgarian B hefore this.’ 1 Elizabeth 30d bless her! I'll bet you wouldn't e looked at me except for Bet Would you But I wouldn't You i hack “Stay L door o abeth 1 d myself and 1 could find in the Bihle held out vou're the After ad over sighed burned a lot of mine looked a touehed have have Now, what about “Well. T won't | tures—hut they'll | now.” | In the dimness the saints walls smiled at the situation (Copsrizht. 1926.) that career” take as many p be worth f Old Letter Recalls Obstacles to Work Of Erecting the Washington Monument BY C. FRED COOK. AST RAND MASTER J. CLAUDE KEIPER, grand sec- retary of the Masonic Grand Lodge of the District of Colum- bia, who is secretary-treasurer of the George Washington Masonic National Memorial Association, which is erecting the magnificent structure on Shooters Hill, Alexandria, has just received, for the archives, an interest ing souvenir. It is a letter, in a “lace” envelope, dated ‘“Washington, June 25, 1862," addressed to “Messrs. Editors of the Telegraph.” The letter follows: “Being, in common with the citizens of these United States, very-anxious that the national monument to the Father of his Country, George Wash- ington, should be completed at as early a day as possible, I would respectfully suggest that at the coming presiden- tial election every voter contribute one dime toward the completion of sald monument, which will produce the sum of $300,000, nearly. “At the last election for President the whole number of votes cast was 2,877,415, which would have produced the sum, at 10 cents per vote cast, of $287,741.50. If this meets your views you will please give It a place in your valuable paper, with a request that every paper in the United States favorable to the cause do the same and keep it before the people. “A friend to the memory Father of his Country, “WM. RUFUS PLOWMA The foregoing brings to mind that all was not plain sailing in connection with our Washington Monument. There was long-strung-out delay in securing funds to carry on the work. There was great difficulty in raising money. Very few of the present gen eration have heard the story of the difficulties encountered, taking the Monument as a matter of course. The foregoing letter, which was in the possession of Dr. M. L. Turner of of the Berwyn, Md., recalls that all was not \ calm and peaceful in connection with | the raising of the noble shaft. Dr. Turner has turned the letier over to Secretary Keiper as a gift. The site on which the Monument stands was designated for the pur- pose by Congress in the year 1848, and is said to have been originally selected by George Washington him- self. The' shaft includes in its make- up of 82 blocks of stone, presented by, States, cities, organizations and for- eign countries, all suitably inscribed. The Monument is much higher than the dome of the United States Capitol, is 15 feet higher than the city of Phil- adelphia’s City Hall tower and 95 feet higher than the dome of St. Peter’s Church, in Rome. As long ago as the year 1783 Con- gress adopted a resolution providing for the erection of a statue to George Washington. The movement was dis- couraged by Washington so long as he lived. However, a joint resolu- tlon was passed by the House and Senate December 21, 1799, that a marble monument be erected to the memory of George Washington by the United States and that the family be requested to permit the body to be_deposited beneath it. President Adams sent a copy of the resolution embracing the request to Mrs, Washirgton and received a re ply from her December 31, 1799, she consenting. But for several years nothing was actually done beycnd the passing of resolutions by Congre Finally, a popular movement was started to collect $1 from each fam fly in the United States. By the vear 1812 about $35000 had been raised by such means. It was under- stood that with the funds collected a mausoleum might be constructed or a national university established. In fact, Washington provided in his will that a portion of his estate be de- voted to such an institution. * ok ¥ % MOTION was made in Congress on Washington's birthday anniver- sary, February 1830, that a com- mittee be appointed, made up of a rep resentative of each State of the Union, to reconsider the whole matter of a memorial to Washington. A joint committee was appointed in February, 1832, to arrange for the proper cele- bration of the one hundredth anniver- sary of the birth of Washington and to revive the project for the erection of a monument at the National Capi tal to his memory. The Washington National ment Society was organized Monu- at a meeting held October 31, 1833, a con- stitution was adopted and the objfect of the society was stated to be erection of a great national monu ment to the memory of Washington at the seat of government. The United States was divided into | four general collection districts. duty of the general collectors, were designated, was to call in per- son, or by deputy, to see every per- son and receive contributions to the cause, the collectors retaining 10 per cent of the amount collected for their services. The States of Ohlo and Maine were the first to respond. Up to February 1. 1837, Ohio had con- tributed $5.834.45; Maine, $3.030; Penn- sylvania, $2,000, and New York, $1,- 000, a total of $22.235.64. In 1840 Congress having failed to grant permission for the erection of a Monument on the -Mall, collections | fell off. The board of managers then | ., ibute. | clty subscribed $50 July 4. {announcement of his intention to re. {new the subscription annually until| ventor has made a new pipe with @ !the completion of the Monument. By ! March 1. | been collected and the Monument was 1100 feet high. endeavored to induce United States marshals and their deputies to accept contributions in connection with the taking of the census, but were not successful. The total amount collect- ed by January 17, 1842, was $41,370. Two years later it amounted to $47,061.85. The cash on hand No- vember 21, 1846, was Thereafter collections being resumed throughout the United States. Congress January 26, 1848, decided to provide a site and the president height. The foundation was com- | Winthrop {a | placed in the M | South Carolina | out “the | thereon _continued April, 1850, nearly all the States were | represented. The who pleted by June 1, 1848. On the fth the corner stone arrived. It was placed in position the following day. The corner stone is 6 feet 8 inches square and nearly 3 feet thick, the rgaterfal hefng white marble. The stone weighed 24500 pounds. Mili tary and civic organizations partic- ipated in the ceremonies incident to the laying of the corner stone. An oration was delivered by Robert (. of Massachusetts Masonic address by B. B then Grand Master of Masons of the District of Columbia. P TTHE funds on hand January 1 1849, amounted to $56,289.66. Ala bama was the first State to volunteer block of finished marbie to be eorgia ssis. ginia, Delaware, sippi soon followed, promising stones | of the desired size, 4 feet long, 2 feet first stone to be actually inserted was ;dnnnted Ly the Frankljp Fire Co. of | total of §1 this s clty. Tt w inscribed, “We strive to save.” The Army and Navy The Choctaw Indians sent a stone Forty children of the Washington City Orphan Asylum, in charge of Miss Latimer, marched to the Monu ment and delivered a tlon of 1 penny each expressed that every the country school through would do 1849. ‘The Bank of the contributed $100 several as did the Bank of Stones with suitable ins to arrive until Michigan sent The city of V . made a de d in_five insf native copper. ton, May 31, 1 $2.500 to be p: hing- ymonth, |months. The Monument by that time had risen S0 feet above its base. |cluding the city of Philadelphia { prising 72 lodges, offered a block | marble 6 feet lonz. 4 feet wide and | feet $55,359.66. | should be o were better, | {to make contributions. |of Augusta, Ga., {ous churches in that vicinity. | Rouge, and board of managers of the society | Ricl selected a spot on which the Monu-|ter from Mr. Plowman, the movement ment stands. The intention originally | was started in the F was to erect & Monument 600 feet inllect a dime from to November 1. 1 averaged $2,800 totaling $28,000 for the From June contributions The Odd Fellows of the country, in com thick, weighing and individuals W. W, bout 4 Clties continued 1861, with 1852, about $130,000 ha avannah, $100 annual mpleted. Churches and individuals BT sent $425 from va La sent $250. collected rd Wall. As suggested in the let 11 of 1852 to col. each voter ~ Vir-| feet in height by contributed. | monthly dona- | The hope was likewise. |Jages Lanox sent $500 December 5. Metropol weeks later, Washington. riptions in block of tion of Allments. per 10 tons. | to | Corcoran of this a., offered until the Monument | bottom and covered with a woude continued | e ri- Baton by |1 United State from Cinci and Winter $20.000 was col Mr. Plowman's sug The Swiss republi presented a block I ceipt of which ward et tate nu turned over $3500. the of a concert. The to fall off and in 1836, the then being 174 feet in heig 000, all nse was Mected ring the neariy esult in O narhle then e Ho and $1.000 & cost §: that contributed, the Tk w | tinued. Nothi vears Cor 1876 Monum was done b The nt A that point it was tape stone of aluminum. which w in position December 6. 1 | high and 1 foot 6 inches broad. The | Monument was opened to the public trb | 1888, Congress having appropr 00.000, t1 tof | pleted shaft having been $1 <4 New Reflector. | FHH a long time the laboratories of Westingh Elect o, been the and trying for use What 1t} Manufacturing have to find a good metal reflector in automobile headlights sought was a reflecti material could be cleaned with v waste without seratching and be exposed to the weather without tarnishing or corroding. Robert J. Piersol research chemis announced recently th; it had been fourd. The new reflector has a wir face of polished chromium, which 1 extremely hard. A popular reflectc for automobile headlights has heen silver or nickel plating on a smonth surface. but silver must be ¢ 5 thickly with lacquer to proteet it f the weather, while the reflecting qualt ties of nickel are not high. Chromiy it is claimed, has neither of these dis | advantages. | Nicotine Trap. JFROM_the 1and of pipes come | oth@r ingenious i to keep 3 | smoke clean 1 cool ritish in- trap for nicotine clongated, running of the bowl, small metal 'he pipe stem is past the b ting to this perforated at tul | tube. A tubular chambe i bottom of the len | this chamber flows and saliva. e away from the tine, it is cla into the traverse i who | metal tube and le « should go to‘the polls, November 2, small perforations.