Evening Star Newspaper, April 28, 1929, Page 92

9, Z TPE SUNDAY 8, 1929 - CORINNA TRIES AGAIN STAR. WASHINGTON. D. C. —PART 7. By Alice Duer Miller The Story of a Man Who Said He Understood Women. ROM all his intimate friends | He became superior. “Ah. my dear.” | tears; but she did not say this. She in bed the whole way over. But her) Daner received full sympathy | he answered, “that's a feminine method, | said, “Oh, I think you had to yield | plans were changed. The stewardess | when he told them of his | not a masculine.” that’ much.” | brought her a wireless. “Oh, my dar- daughter's imprudent engage- | “As a femininc method it's quite over- | And suddenly Corinna found herself | ling, she thought. and tore it open. but | ment . . . no, he refused to call | rated,” she returned. “Men are used to | describing Peter. He was so wise and | the name signed was Mrs. Sandon's: 1t that . . . her silly fancy for a young | women's tears, but women are very weak | strong, and very good-looking. She told | “Marley dismissed this morning with | man in his office, Peter Marley, his pri- | when a man cries.” how they had first met when she went | two months' pay.” i vate sccretary. | " He laughed grandly at her absurdity down to her father's office to speak to| Corinna was still considering this news | From oniy one of his friends did he and went home to take up his great him about a bill she had run up, and | when her maid appeared to put her | get no comfort, and she was the one | problem. voung Mr. Marley had understood she | cabin to rights. She spoke of the fact | from whom he desired it most. Mrs. | 'R | was looking for a job and had scolded |that she had found another maid | Sandon was a slim widow of 42, with | JT was almost time for him to be | her and given her some excellent ad- | aboard, one of her oldest friends, and | eyes just as clearly turquoise-colored as dressing for an early dinner, but,|Vice—rather romantic, wasn't it? And that the third steward came from the they had been when she was 14. Mr. | finding his daughter in the library, he | he was so eager to succeed and had same town in Devonshire that she came Daner intended to marry her at the | docided fo say & friendly word to her; been going to have his salary raised on | from. and then she mentioned that poor first opportunity; by which he meantd and the friendly word led almost in- | the first of the month. . . . and it young Lord Axley was on board "My the first time that she sald anything | stantly to an unfriendly one, and so, might be his whole career. . .. | father was gardener to his father, the more encouraging than, “No, my dear | within five minutes, they were disputing ~ The sound of Mr. Daner’s footsteps Poor old gentleman B g Edmond, certainly not.” | the point at issue, both of them quite | Was heard before she had finished. Mrs, | Corinna came very sUgn’y of It was to her apartment that he hur- her trance and said, “Lord Axley, ried after a peculiarly trying scene with | his child, although Mrs. Sandon was to | dine with him that very evening and | g0 to see a new play; but his lacerated feelings demanded action. | He went over the situation for the | hundredth time, and, seeing the cool | detachment of those crystalline eyes he | found himself using words of more and | more exaggeration. “It's a catastrophe, that's what it is,” he said. “Well, is 1t?” said Mrs. Sandon gent- . “He must be able and honest, or you would not keep him as your sec- Tetary; and he must be attractive, or Corinna, who has had a good deal of experience with young men, would not want to marry him. Her logic annoyed him almost as| much as her detachment. “Good gra- | cious, Ruth,” he said, “you have no| more respect for my opinion of men and things than if I'were a boy. I am | telling you—-" | She interrupted. “I have a great | deal of respect for your opinion,” she | said. “But I feel ihat I am getting ' CORINNA HAD NEVER SEEN HER FATHER CRY, HAD NEVER SUPPOSED THAT SUCH A THING WAS POSSIBLE; SHE WAS SHOCKED. oblivious of time. Corinna_was one of these white- skinned brunettes. Her hair was crisp black, but her eyes were gray. Seeing her sitting there, so clegant and lovely, possessions, her father broke out: “It's simply pathetic; you, who have always been so fastidious about things that didn’t matter, now to throw yourself away on this inferior boy!” “Oh, oh,” cried Corinna. *“I leave jt to any one whether he is inferior. But, cven if he were, what does that mat- ter? The point is that I'm in love with him’ “Yowve been in love before, thought you were.” ever.” ou've been engaged before. won't deny that.” “Oh, father, really, how dare you bring that up, when I only said I would consider it, in order to oblige you?” “Well, a girl doesn't engage herself, even at her father's suggestion, unless she has an inclination toward the young man.” or You Sandon held up one finger in token that she was going to say something important. “Go abroad,” she said, | “and, if you can forget, forget; but, in any case, make your father promise | so much the most valuable of all his | that the young man shan't lose his job.” | Corinna would never have foreseen | | this danger, but, when it was pointed | | o}xt‘ to her, she recognized the likelihood of it. | She recognized it all the more when | she spoke to her father on the subject; | the very tone in which he said he could not pledge himself to retain any one in | his employ, if he should turn out un- satisfactory, proved to her that his plan was to get Tid of Peter at once. | | Corinna was very firm. “I will not g abroad, father,” she sald, “unless you promise me ti Peter will be in his old position when I get back.” | And he, reluctantly, promised. | Xk FAGER. as Mr. Daner was to get {77 away, maddened as he was by the | knowledge that Corinna was spending every leisure moment at the bedside of his broken-legged secretary, he could not tear himself free from all his in- volvements under a month. In that month Corinna and Mrs. Sandon met several times. Corina took Mrs. Sandpn to see Peter, because she wanted the triumphant vin- dication of another woman's opinion that Peter was great and fascinating. ‘The meeting was a great success. At least, when Corinna turned to her com- panion with the questioning look of one who has just shown another the eighth wonder of the world, Mrs. Sandon an- swered, “Well, my dear, I don't believe | |'T should ever have promised to go| your opinion of the boy, not as a hus-l “I got out of it fast enough. Oh, I|abroad, if I were you.” At which Co-| band for your daughter, but as a son- | in-law for yourself.” “Isn’t it the same thing?"” “Not at all the same. You would get no fun from saying ‘My daughter, Mrs. | Marley'—is that his name? But you would get a great deal of fun out of saying ‘My daughter, Viscountess this | or that’ You know, Edmond, you are | a bit of a snob about titles.” * x x * “R. DANER took up his defense, | 4¥4 sating that he was not a snob; that | he cared nothing for titles; that a per- son was & fool who did not know that | social position was a valuable asset, and | hat there was no such guarantee of social position as & good title. Then, think that's most unjust. You both battered me down; but this time, with Peter, I provided all the initiative. I practically proposed to him.” And so, after a few feints and brushes of this sort, they settled down to the real serious quarrel, which was on the question of her going abroad. Mr. Daner’s point was that, if she were so sure of herself and Marley, there was ! rinna burst into tears, but tears more of joy than regret. | The boat sailed at midnight and, | | when Corinna woke the next morning, | they were at sea, She felt exhausted | man, miss, they say, only weak.” | up the name of Axley in the peerage. | | have behaved in much the same way, “} by all the emotions of the last few | weeks and decided that she would stay no reason why she should not wait a | year, or six months, as a favor to an | aged and broken parent. Her point was | that it would do no good and change | nothing, but would cause both her and | Peter excruciating agony to be sep- | arated. “And do you ever think what my suf- BY WILL 'IOGEBS. | Amanda?” | “Yes, miss. Not Lord Axley of Min- | disham—not the earl, but that poor, unfortunate young gentleman, Baron | Axley of Piggescombe I told you of.” Corinna _tried to remember, but Amanda’s tales were many, and no one stood out. “The one who ran off with the tight-rope dancer in Ceylon?" she | asked. | “Oh, no, miss,” said Amanda, “that | was Viscount Perot's daughter. No, this poor young gentleman—well, miss, he cheated at cards at his club and was, caught, as they say, Ted-handed and | never been able to live at home since, and he's a very pleasant young gentle- | Corinna’ suddenly sat straight up. Tll get up, Amanda,” she said, “and | T'll wear that new sports dress, the light | blue and silver one. What does he look like, your young card-sharper?” “Oh, he’s very handsome, miss, and over 6-foot tall.”” All the time she was dressing Corinna | was extracting distinguishing traits of the baron from her maid’s description, but Amanda was not an artist in words and Corinna could not form a complete | picture. About 10:30 she stepped out upon the deck, a perfect picture of in- nocent, friendly girlhood, and as most people at that hour were either still in their cabins, or else exercising on deck, she was able to institute a thorough | search of the names on the deck chairs. | At last she flung herself down in a|. chair not marked with her own name | and waited. | She did not have to wait long. She saw him coming the length of the deck, | a very tall man in a tweed suit. He | went to his chair and dumped some magazines and was about to go on his way, when suddenly all Corinna’s para- phernalia of books, scarfs, knitting and a purse crashed to the deck. The young man turned, stooped, observed a singu- larly pretty girl and presently sank into his chair at her side. * ® R 'HEN Mr. Daner sauntered out on deck he found his daughter en- gaged in animated conversation with a handsome stranger. He stopped beside her. “I have been looking everywhere for you,” he said, | “you know these are not our chairs. I always sit on the starboard side going over and——" “Oh, aren't they?” id Corinna, beaming up at him with fillal adora. tion. “Father, dear, this is Lord Axley.” She was proud o see her father was | not too cordial. | “Do you want to walk a bit, Corin- | na?” he asked, after a moment. | “Oh, yes, father,” she returned, and | they left the young man in undisputed | possession of his own steamer chair. “Who is this young man?” “You know everything that I do. He sald his name was Axley.” And she )n‘gded. “Is there such a place as Mindis- | m?* Her father did not know whether | there was or not, but Corinna was sure | that, when they parted, he would look | Indeed, looking in through the librarv window, she saw him bent over the thick gold and red volume. Corinna saw a great deal of Lord Ax- ley for the next three days. She would | Axley had bored her, but he did not | bore her. He had a gift of companion- ability. Educated and a gentleman, he had yet worked as a day laborer, sailed before the mast, and generally roughed it in all parts of the world. If Corinna had not been armored in her first wild love for Peter Marley, she might have been in some danger. | But, in her revengeful state of mind, | perhaps the pleasantest feature in the | situation was her father's tactfully | veiled delight. i LORD AXLEY was to get off at Cher- bourg, and the last evening he in- vited her to take a stroll on deck after | fellow, he’s done for himself. ehAA YA YOU KNOW THESE ARE THEY?” SAID CORINNA NOT OUR CHAIRS. , BE. dinner, with a manner neither more nor less casual that his habitual man- ner. As they walked, they talked of in- teresting things, as they always did. ‘They had stopped and leaned their elbows on the rall, and he had said, “I'd like to ask your advice about a friend I expect to see in a few days. Péor I don't know how it is in the States, but in England there are mistakes you can make that finish you worse than any crime. After all, you can go to prison for a crime and some people think you atone for it, but these other things . ‘Well, this fellow did one of them at 19—pretty young, what? And he’s been meandering about over the face of the earth, not so unhappy at that until the poor fool fell in love, real thing you know, pure young girl and with money, to make it harder. What do you think he ought to do, just go away in silence S e “Yes, I should think so,” sald Corinna hastily. Somehow, she had never thought of this possibility, that he might fall in love with her and confess; that he would see it would be his re- demption to marry her, yes, but to fall in love with her if he were in Jove . . . “Don't be too hasty,” he said. “There is the other thing, you know, the pos- sibility that, if he made a clean breast of it, she might forgive him and agree to start fresh with him and all that sort of tosh, you know. Perhaps, to make it quite clear, I ought to tell you that it | was cards. This fellow had learned to do card tricks, and at last the moment came when he was having rotten luck and he needed particularly to win—-" “Lord Axley,” said Corinna, her voice not perfectly steady, “I really mustn’t let you go on, because I know what you want to tell me. I knew it before we met.” “You knew it?" he said, and his eyes opened in hope. “Why, then, you can’'t—" “No.” she said. “I'm sorry, but! it doesn’t mean what you think. I have been using you for my own purpose, which was revenge.” Hers was not an easy story to tell to a man who had just made her a sin- cere declaration of affection—that she was in love with another man and using this one only as a terrible example to her father of how much worse she might do. But she stumbled through it. “T see,” sald Axley. “It was just be- cause I was so impossible that I was so useful to you.” There was a long silence. She felt terribly guilty. She longed to do some- thing to atone, but any kindly words sounded so patronizing. And that moment Mr. Drake, a friend of her father, approached them and asked if they wouldn’t like to make up a rubber of bridge. The afternoon before Corinna had played a rubber with some of Mr. Drake's friends, and, as Mr. Drake's partner, she had not enjoyed the experience. After each hand he pointed out mildly, but at great length, where a game might have been made if Corinna had bid right. Bidding right meant bidding according to the require- ments of his hand at the moment—- “Oh, yes,” she sald. “Lord Axley and I would like nothing better.” And as they walked toward the saloon she mur- mured to Axley, “And I should like to play with you.” Her confidence in him was not misplaced. They cut in the | following order: Mr. Drake a queen, her | father a four, she a three, and Lord Axley the only card that would have made him her partner, a two. | There could be no denying that Corinna enjoyed the game. It is al- ways pleasant to win, but it is even pleasanter when you feel a moral pur- pose is being served by your success, and also when you find your opponents quarrel ungracefully. Mr. Daner was not so meek under correction as she had been. When he was asked, “Why in | thunder did you double, my dear Daner?” he would answer: “Because 1 did not suppose you would be bidding two with nothing but five to a king.” Mr. Drake would dismiss this with a | wave and say: “It's a psychological game, Daner. I play my lucky streaks.” | But he did not seem to be having a lucky streak that evening; his finesses all went wrong, whereas Lord Axley's always went right. As they ended the last rubber Mr. Drake spoke words that had never be- fore fallen from his lips. “I believe I don’t bid right,” he said. “I believe I shall take some lessons when I go home.” He had lost over $400 at mod- erate stakes. Between Corinna and her meaning. * Kok % 'ORINNA and Axley parted there with a very casual good-night. When about noon the next day Mr. Daner, having been busy with his pack- ing and letter writing, emerged on deck, he looked vainly for a tall figure, slumped, as was customary, in the chair beside his daughter. Corinna was reading. “Where is our young friend, the ear]?” said her father at last. Corinna, looked up sweetly and blinked her eyes. “Lord Axley,” she said. “Oh, he got off at Cherbourg.” “What!” cried her father. He was not wholly able to conceal that this news was a disappointment, almost a shock, and Corinna had every excuse for ask- ing, “Did you like him so much, father?” “Yes, I did,” sald Mr. Daner firmly. “I liked him very much. Didn't you?” “You make me very happy, fathe: she murmured. “We haven't always agreed about my friends. I'm so glad that this time we do.” Her voice sank. “I like him, too,” she almost whispered. “Well, it doesn’t seem to matter much whether we do or not,” replied Mr. Daner; “if he's got off at Paris we may never see him again. Corinna smiled. “Oh, I think we'll see him again,” she said with a sort of shy confidence. “We'll be in Paris before so very long ourselves. It seems,” she add- ed, after a short pause that added enormous significance to her words, “it seems that his mother is living at Nice He wanted to see her, of course, father.” It was a simple statement. but one that was enormously significant to Mr. Daner. He felt wise and successful, a father financial debts had not much | T ALWAYS SIT ON THE STARBOARD SIDE GOING OVER AND—" H AMING UP AT HIM WITH FILTAL ADORATION. “FATHER, DEAR, THIS IS LORD AXLEY.” “OH. AREN'T | man who played not lightly, but expert- | Iy with human psychology. Hardly a | week, and the trick was turned. Finally | he said: | “My dear child, you don't give me | your full confidence, and I don't ask it, | but let me say this, if you are worrying | about any complication at home I'll take care of that—leave it all to me.” \ “How would you take care of it | Mr. Daner made a great, free gesture. “Just leave it to me. I would find some method of compensation.” “For losing me, father?” She smiled | at him. He was glad she took his mean- } ing so quickly. “You mean a partner- | ship?” | “The young man is hardly material | for a partnership, especially in a firm lfke Daner, McGrue, but e | “Why not? You find him such an ex- cellent private secretary, one whom you mean to keep on indefinitely.” He did not answer. A second chance | had come to him to confess that he had | broken his word, and he did not take 1t. | Nothing further was said. Late that afternoon_they landed and took the train for London, where Mr. Daner had | engaged his accustomed suite at the Berkeley. The next morning he had gone out as soon as he had had break- | fast—a good solid breakfast with kip- | pered herrings—to visit his banker, who was also his friend. Corinna attempted to calculate the length of time it would take him to walk to the bank to do his business, to bring the conversation round to the noble earl and discover that it was not a noble earl, but a bad barcn, with whom his daughter had apparently involved herself. But she underestimated the rate at which bad news travels. Her father was | back in the parlor of their suite before she was half-dressed, calling loudly for her, and, when she went in, she found him standing there. “Did that man tell you that he was of Mindisham?” “Mindisham, father,” said Corinna, “what is that? It sounds like a cheese.” “Did Axley tell you he was Axley, of Mindisham? Because, if he did, he lied. He isn't. It turns out he is not a young man whese acquaintance is desired.” | “Why, father,” said Corinna, “I | thought you liked him so much. | “Like him,” said Mr. Daner. “I'd like any one who could make you forget that commonplace fellow at home. I must say, you haven't very good taste in men, Corinna. This fellow is a card- | sharper. Yes, I don't wonder you'rs | shocked.” “What shocks me, father, is your not | remembering that I did not like him | much until I had your approval. I said | to myself, when I first felt attracted to him, I'll consult my father first. I'll never make the mistake of taking a fancy to any one without the stamp of | his approval: but it seems, afterall. . . | Corinna_melted Into tears, vowing that | she could not give up Axley; maybe it | was all a slander about his cheating at | cards. She pled with her father not | to be hasty—she even went down on her | knees, begging to be allowed one final interview with Axley. “Give him a chance to explain,” she almost screamed, “even a criminal is given that.” * X o % ER father had never seen Corinna as violent as this. He felt utterly exhausted when finally the scene was over. He made one admission during a par- ticularly hysterical speech of Corinna's on the subject of his unjust hatred of every man she selected. He had said: “Peter Marley is, at least, honorable.” “Ah, you never said that when you thought I cared about him!" “Nonsense, nonsense. I never denied it. I should not have kept him so long as my private secretary if——" “Do you mean that he isn't your private secretary still’ Confronted with a direct question, Mr. Daner saw it was necessary to confess, but he confessed rather blus- teringly: “Why, no, my dear. I feit the situation had become too awkward for both of us. I decided ...” “But, father, you promised me. You gave me your word of honor. Oh, to feel that I have deserted him and ruined him at the same time.” She wept, she flung her arms about as she sprang to her feet, only to throw her- self on the sofa. Her father was alarmed. He knew he had been wrong to break his word about Marley, and he now saw & way of setting himself right and galning an even more important objective. “Corinna,” he said almost sternly, top crying and listen to me. I be- lieve you are right. There is no reason why we should ruin Marley between us. I will consent to take him back in my employ if you will give up all idea of a final interview with that card-sharper.” Corinna burbled something into the pillows that seemed to be a refusal. “I can’t hear what you are saying,” said poor Mr. Daner. Corinna lifted her face from the bro- cade. “I'm saying it is probably too late—Peter may have shot himself by this time.” “Nonsense,” replied Mr. Daner, “but. if you want, I'll cable.” He sat down a‘ the desk. “See, Corinna, I am writing the cable: ‘Regret decision about Mar- ley. Ask him to continue in his former position.’ " A sob from the “At an . ‘At an increase of fifty a month.* “A hundred a month,” sobbed Corinna, and Mr. Daner wrote it as she said. He was, first of all, a business man, and he calculated that twelve hundred a year was a substantial sum to pay above the current price for secretaries, but it was a trifie compared to the relief of getting rid of Axley without a final scene. Sitting down on the sofa, he stroked his unhappy child’s dark hair, and she became gradually calmer. ‘Women, sweet creatures that they are, require management . . . a man has to understand them. Well, he reflected, fortunately, he did understand them. (Copyright. 1929.) sofa formed the word: salary.” BY EDWARD M. TABER. had enough, got to be getting on. Good- | Gilbert Stuart, Painter Of Presidents and Kings trip to Paris, and by royal command painted the portrait of Louis XVI. Paul’s and Charley’s Ride Repeated on NE hundred years ago last July died one of America’s greatest portrait painters, and one who finding perhaps something slightly con- tradictory in his statements, he aban- ned this point entirely, and said that | fering is?” said her father. “For 14 | years now, ever since your mother’s | death, you have been the only being in | night everybody.” BOSTON, April 21. | Well now last week here in Boston ‘While George III was sitting for him, ELL, all I know is just what | the artist had difficulty in getting the was injured by his daughter’s con- | ct, because there had been deceit. | “I was not even told they knew each other. Oh, yes, I did see them meet 2t my office, but I had no reason to| suppose they were meeting constantly. And then one day I went to Boston on susiness, and when I got home I heard ae had been to visit her the moment my back was turned, and had fallen down my front steps and broken his | eg, and that they were engaged to be married. They did not tell me they were falling in love.” Mrs. Sandon smiled. “It isn't a thing neople do tell—the first stages of a love flair—except those terrible people who ant an audience for their every emo- jon. Perhaps they did not know it hemeselves.” “In other words,” sald Mr. Daner bit- “you think it all satisfactory?” 0. not if you are unhappy about she returned, “but I am trying » point out that things might be orse.” Great heavens!” cried Mr. Daner. “I °ll you my daughter is entangled with mercenary employe of mine, and your nswer is it might be worse.” Secing his distress she asked what he 1tended o do. It appeared he intended to take orinna abroad for a year, for six rionths anyhow. “She owes me at least aat—to be willing to wait six months ~fore making a marriage of which I > heartily disapprove. Dont you ink s0?” Yes, I think s irs. Sandon ‘Well, she absolutely refuses. I can’t > anything with her. I was wonder- 2. Ruth, if you would have a talk h her. What? You're always shak- 1g your head. You would not do even hat much for me?" 1 won't do it, because it wouldn't any use,” she returned. “I like Corinna, but I haven't any real relation ~ith her; and you can't suddenly do nything with an entirely artificial re- ation. She would just think of me as n interfering old woman. She would ate it. and so should 1.” It seems 1 cannot depend on you to 1p me in a crisis.” ‘Well, I will tell you how to get your wn way. if that is helping you.” “How?" he asked. e have only to shed a few tears. “Shed tears, cry?” exclaimed Mr Daner frowning, and then he smiled at her mere feminine ridiculousness. There was a short silence. Mrs. ~andon did not say that the last times he refused him she seen tears in is eyes. “Well; try It,” she said. might do that,” said the world whom I really loved. And you little I read in the papers. Been up among the Yankees in New England for a couple | of weeks. They are mlxhty‘ not only insist on doing what I believe '&’- be mlllcl(dal, but you will not do me | e small favor of taking a few months 1o think it over” And being touched, | fine old folks, and they take a joke on as we are 50 apt to be, more by his own | themselvs great, too. I was kidding em | eloguence than by harsh facts, the tears about not making Coolidge a present st0od In Mr. Daner's eyes. of & home when he returned to the Corinna_had never seen her father cry, had' never supposed that such a thing was possible; she was shocked “Oh, father, I'm se, T will go abroad. It almost breaks my heart, but Twill , . not for six months, but for three. will go for three months.” * % x x 'l‘HE door opened, and Munster said, i with his habitual detachment: “Mrs. Sandon.” old State from serving as President. | I really always felt like they ought to got Mr. Coolidge a nice home. They jaughed hartily at my little quips on it but no one started a collection. But they are mlfmy loyal, well read and a dandy audience. 1 was here last week during the cele- bration of “Patriots Day,” thats a thing | they just have up here. It has some- thing to do with the time when the English overestimated their fighting qualities and they started a Revolution Corinna, with one of those impulses Well thats the time Paul Revere un- of family solidarity, stepped between her father and his guest. “Oh, I'm so sorry, Mrs. Sandon,” she said. “I kept hitched an old Buggy Horse, jumped on him bareback and announced, “This is Paul Revere broadcasting from father talking, and he isn't dressed, and = Bunker Hill Station, shut off your sets I'm going to be awfully late for dinner, but it's all my fault.” Mr. down in a minute and went upstairs. He had no sense of danger in doing indeed, he would have said that | Of he desired nothing so much as that they | Planter. should become friends; and he did not reflect that. separated as they were by had only one bond— profound esoteric knowledge of this 20 years, they their his character. Mrs. Corinna was that she did not doubt that she herself had been she was young, but she simply could no take much interest in idle, extravagant Corinna’s opinion of Mrs. Sandon was that she was probably the best of girls. them, if Father really meant to remarry. Daner murmured that he'd be Sandon's point of view about e ebat e | T never will get anvwhere, Gnod nigh' and grab a musket. The British are coming and if they dont stop to get tea they are liable to he here any minute. This programme is beint { brought to you through the courtesy George Washington, a Virginia A farmer that needs no re- lief. But just wants to clean the Brit- ish out. and figures we can run it our selves and cut out the overhead. Wakr up Pligrims, and shake a leg, and | when you see a Red Coat coming dont shoot till you see if they got white eye< ! Any of you Birds know the road to Concord.” Loan we a pair of spurs or Patriots, remember this is station B. H (Bunker Hill) broadcasting. G00-00-¢ Ni-g-h-t.” Now I just want to show you how but she hoped he'd wait until she had | much smarter these New Englander: married first. Yet, with this rather un- | are than all the rest of us. We thought promising beginning, as they looked at | Paul was the only Western Union Mes- each other, they were both aware that scnger Boy that night, we had never they, out of the whole world, were the | heard of another one (not in Oklahoma only two who understood Edmond | History there aint). Well there was Daner, and that, if they stood together, | another fellow, that worked a different | he would be powerless Nothing of this kind was said, how- | Dawes, and he had a Horse too. I dont ever. Corinna remarked: “Poor father. know where he went, I think he went 1 suppose he has told you what a time | down to Newport to see if he could in- he is having with me.” | terest any of the Millionaires in Local And Mrs. Sandon answered, “Yes, he ' Government control did mention that he did not approve of . Now how many of you knew that | your engagement and that he wanted there was a Dawes that made the race? you to go abroad and think it over.” | Course it attracted no more attention “So silly, but I sald I would,” an-|than a Vice President, but he did it. swered Corinna. “I don't know why|He had a long Corn Cob pipe and here |1 ad” was his appeal against Taxation with- Mrs. Sandan knew why she had—be- | out Representation, “Wnkez | | territory that same night, his name was ' _ Patriots’ Day in Boston, But Run- away Varies Program—Farm Relief and 1,000:New Bills. Ly g Wl 9> alq il A HE(K OF ALor O RELIEF WAT 1L UNE ME IV i) THEY GOT 1,000 BILLS IN THERE. ny HERE YARE, 0L fiMER, NOW You (AN KEF%DW. P fi-ig]\!\lw | to crowing. Hell and Maria what du‘ you think this is, a United States Sen- | ate? Get up and do something for your | country. If you havent got a Country get a Gun and make you one. Come on, after fighting the Indians all these years, fighting the British will be a flesta. Hell and Maria, you think I am loping through this Country in the middle of the night for nothing? If Who's got & pipe full of good smoking | tobacco? I want you all to clean thes™ British out back here, I dont want to have to go out to my home in Chicago and bring them back here. They would kill all the British, and all the minute men too. Hows that road to Lexington now, have they still got those detours? Remember as I told you when I first galloped up to the bar here and got*off, p there you | we can get the British out of here maby | the British are coming. If that's of any caEe 1) Woman can resist » man's Plvmouth Rocks. ad stor laving and g0 we can got the Swmate Rules changed. particular interest to you. No ¢ on Patriots day April 19th, they went through this whole thing. It was a big Holiday up here. Well you might know it was a big Holiday when the Braves won two games. They had all the pa- triotic Socleties out, and had a won- derh‘ll parade, and they reproduced Paul’s and Charley's ride. Well Dawes | be got lost, there was a traffic light | against him so he started off another | way, and the crowds along the way never did get a peek at him any more. He was supposed to have an escort. | But none of them had ever made the route before, they were picked more for historical than geographical knowl- cdge. Paul did a little better; he made the trip but his old barrelled headed Army Horse run away, and just de- lighted on running info where there was the most people located. This old Jug head had never heard bands play- ing and Yeople hollering before. Some | cops finally caught this horse, but Paul | hadent had any time to yell the British are coming. He finally changed horses with an escort, and I think finally | reached Concord in a motor car. So 1 guess if the war had been held this {ime, we would have lost it, so I doubt very much if our present generation is an improvement over the old Fore- fathers. Its quite & leap from anything his- torical to Congress. But did you see | where already there has been over 11,000 Bills introduced in there? Now | rellef, but they got em in there for cverything. Congressman Louls Ludlow from Tnd, he used to be head of the press club in Washington and is a fine news- paper man. Well Loule’s contribution to farm rvelief is to do away with :“Slugs” in beating vending machines. ‘He figures if we can just prevent lead I nickles, that it will pay every mort- gage in Indiana. Representative Fish of New York introduces a Bill to stop war. That's an original idea. Another Representative wants a bill to stabilize money. It can't ever change, no mat- ter whether the Country is rich or poor, the money is the same. Bills to build over 300 bridges are in there. Those old Babies in there want something to get back into Congress |over. Nothing beats & bunch of bridges {as a National graft. Some Guy from Minnesota wants to make the home a “Nuisance” if liquor is found in there. and Linthicum of Maryland wants to make the Star Spangled Banner the National Anthem. And then they as! “Will, where do you get your jokes from?” {Conyright, 1929.) | [ it was supposed to just be for Farm | O had the unique distinction of having painted the portraits of the heads of each of the three countries involved in the War of the Revolution—George Washington of the American Colonies, George III of England and Louis XVI of France. Gilbert Stuart was born at North | Kingston, R. 1, December 3, 1755. His | father, aiso named Gilbert, was a snuff maker. Like all true artists who are born, not made, he began sketching heads at a very youthful age. His earliest known portrait is of an un- |known man, in crayon black lead, produced and dated in 1768, when he was 13 years old. It is now in the Essex Institute, at Salem, Mass. His earliest teaching was from Cosmo | Alexander, a Scotchman of only fair artistic ability. Stuart accompanied Alexander on & trip to Scotland in 1772, but soon returned to America and took up his residence in Newport. He sailed for England in June, 1775, on the last boat which the Eritish per- mitted to leave Boston Harbor. Ar- | riving in London, he took lodgings in | Buckingham street, Strand. For a period of over two years little is known of Stuart’s life. Upon his arrival he did not present himself to his compatriot and fellow-artist, Ben- jamin West, who had been a resident of London for several years, a charter | member of the Royal Academy and an intimate friend of Sir Joshua Rey- nolds, its president, and who later suc- | ceeded him in that office. However, he did finally, in 1777, call on West, | who received him with kindness and took him into his own house as a pupil. He progressed rapidly, and West made him acquainted with many distin- guished persons, including the King. One day Dr. Samuel Johnson, who was at that time a dominating figure in English literature and who had re- cently completed his dictionar, called on West, who introduced Stuart to him. After a short conversation Dr. John- son, who usually caused a feeling of {awe and trepidation to arise in the I 'breasts of youthful aspirants to fame, sald to Stuart in his brusque manner, “You talk good English. Where did you learn it?” Stuart replied, “I will tell you, sir, where I did not learn it. i It was not from your dictionary.” Stuart remained with West five years, and then set up a studio of his own. He was very successful and had a constant stream of sitters. He painted the por- ! traits of many noblemen and high dig- | George III, whose postrait he afterward Cveorge IV. He also made a correct lines of the monarch's some- what peculiarly shaped mouth. He tried several times to paint it correctly without success, until he became some- what angered and made a slap at it with his brush, intending to paint it out entirely, but by a happy chance, the touch of the brush gave a turn to the mouth which was just what he wanted. He immediately jumped up and down | and cried “I've got it, your majesty! I've got it.” “Got what?” asked the King, somewhat alarmed at this peculiar antic. “Your mouth, your majesty,” said the artist. Stuart might also be called a “painter of painters,” for he painted portraits of ‘West, Reynolds, Gainsborough, Copley and other distinguished artists. But, despite his success, Stuart was far from occupying a bed of roses. He was utterly lacking in business ability or system. He kept no record of his work and often did not know whether a por- trait had been paid for. Money meant nothing to him. No matter how much he received, he spent it faster than he got it. He denied himself nothing that he desired and never counted the cost Consequently. he was always in financial difficulties. He was imprisoned for debt in London more than once. Matters got worse and worse, until in 1787 he was obliged to leave London, and he went to Dublin. In Ireland his fame as 2 painter had preceded him. and he again met with success and painted portraits of many persons of rank and distinction. After spending five years in Ireland he set sail for America in 1792. The reason which impelled him to return to his native land was an irresistible desire to paint a portrait of Washing- ton. In 1794, when Congress was in session in Philadelphia, he presented to Wash- ington a letter of introduction from John Jay, and Washington accorded his several sittings. The second por- trait of Washington painted by Stuart, known as the “Athenaeum,” is acccoted as the best and the standard portralt. He also painted a full-length bortralt of Washington and one in which he 1s standing by his horse. He made many replicas of these portraits, mainly of the “Athenaeum.” He indulged himself in his desire to portray on canvas the fea- tures of the Father of his Country to an unusual extent, for he painted, in- cluding replicas, no less than 124 por- traits of Washington. One hundred and eleven of these are definitely locat- | nitaries and received a command from | ed. Art galleries in Boston, New York, inted, | Philadelphia, Washington, Chic: as well as that of the Prince of Wales, ' other i C i cities possess one or more, and there are two in the Capitol.