Evening Star Newspaper, April 23, 1933, Page 81

FHE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. C, APRIL 23, i933. - AL TR CCREECERIOLREREEREODLLCRRCRTERLCRRRRECCERECCRNCSETTERREERMTSDANRRRR AR 22 OoLLY EOGRAPH Prcrures IN @:} THE MAP wew Ed-eFireman. [TTTTTITEEEEEEFEERILY ) LUCiLLE BowD (20), 647 N.MaiN ST, SROAWN 8y AKRON,ONIO Bury Epwarps, (12) JOSEPH IKLEMOWICZ) SAVANNAN, GEORGIA 1161 Lois Ave-, CAMDEN, N. T. Azones WASHINGTON INDO-CHINA OSCAR T.NOBERNIK , 3/5 SANDUSIKKY ST, ConneAUT, ONIO WEST LIBERTY, WEST VIRGINIA Domimnicik TROTT! 107 DewEY ST, 121 TeFFERSON ST GARDEN C1Ty NY ZA0ED 13 AN’AM JONN HAWKINS VOYAGE TO HAITI IN 1562 AWOKE ENGLISH MERCHANTS TOTHE POSSIBILITIES OF A RICHTRQADE WITH THE SPANISH ISLES OF THE WEST INDIES. HAWKINS PLANNED TORETURN TO HAITI AND FLOUT THE SPANISH KING'S DECREE BARRING FOREIGN SHIPS FROM TRADING DIRECTLY WITH HIS COLONISTS. QUBEN EL'ZABETH OF ENGLAND WAS PLEASED WiITH HAWKINS’ ENTERPRISE, AND MADE HIM Ho enForce HIS LAW FORBIDDING FOREIGNERS TO TRADE WITH HIS AMERICAN COLONIES, PHILIPTL OF SPAIN HAD SENT A STRONG FLEET To THE CARIBBEAN SEA C ComMMANDING ONE OF THE SHIPS WAS HAWKINS NEPHEW, A SHORY STOCKY, RED-HAIRED YOUTH OF TWENTY - FRANCIS DRAKE — DE STINED TO BE THE GREATEST SEAFIGHTER OF HIS DAY. IN 1567 HAWKINS AGAIN SAILED PFRQOM ENGLAND WITH A SMALL SQUADRON AND CROSSED THE ATLANTIC TO WEST INDIAN WATERS. WHILE THE ENGLISH SHIPS LAY AT ANCHOR , THE SPANISH PLEET HOVE IN SIGHT AND N\ BORE DOWN UPON THE VISITORS, — @ WERE NOT PREPARED = TO FIGHT AND, BELIEVING THAT THE SPANISH FLEETS MISSION WAS PEACEFUL ,PERMITTED IT YO SAIL INTO THE ’ HARBOR AN COME WITHIN CLOSE RANGE . BeanwriLe, Hawkins' SQUADRON HAD BEEN BUFFETED BY STORMS AND WAS FORCEPD To PUT INTO THE PORT OF SAN JUAN DE ULLUA YO MAKE REPAIRS. —— @ N . "l T T — L YS KIS SHIP SPED AwWAY, YOUNG DRAKE ) SHOOK HIS FIST AT THE SPANIARDS AND SWORE TO HAVE REVENGE. — 7 6= CONTINUED. SPANISH SHIPS OPENED FIRE WITHOUT WARNING. A T - ———- _. FIERCE BUT UNEQUAL FIGHT FOLLOWED. == . WAY OUT OF THE TRAP AND ESCAPED,- HAWKINS' FLAGSHIP AND DRAKE'S VESSEL . gllllllllIIIIIlIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIlIIllIlIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIHIIlIIIIIIIIIIIIIlIIIIIIIINIIIIIlllllllllllllllllllIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII T g A “dirty dog.” We intimate of an unpleasant, of his logging camps. You shall boss it, Curt, L ittle Movement : Continued from Second Page. carrying his job home with him from the office at night, tolling and moiling; (note to editor: You look up the meaning of that word “moil.” I haven’t time) hustling around and saving, a good citizen and a swell Rotarian. And a regular he-American in other ways, too. Didn't he strive to fill up his town to overfl.wing with new residents, regardless of wh:ther he liked them or not, so that the next census report would show a larger proportiocnate increase in population than for any other ant hill in the State? What if so many of them did come from Yowa and were all the time wanting to go to a State picnic? And at the last I come to the gravest in- Justice of all. We call a foul-minded mzn a disagreeable person that his maternal ancestors loved to gnaw bones. We say when a man, by reason of his weaknesses and his excesses, has sunk so low in the social scale he no longer is regarded as being fit for human companionship, that such a one has “gone to the dogs.” Those things we say daily, forgetting that the dog isn’t dirty, but, on the contrary, is the cleanest-minded, most logically organized, of all the friendly mammals; forgetting that one who really goes to the dogs has gone to enjoy the splendid fellowship of the mo:t unselfish, the most loyal, the most faithful, the most honor- able, the most sacrificing, the most noble- spirited, the most modest, the most affectionate, the most forgiving, the most understanding and the most genercus of all the created things that walk the earth, whether cn two legs or on four. Is there a second to my motion? just rise and second it mysclf and go right ahead anyhow. ' If not, I'll Logger’s Society Story Continued from Tenth Page was resigned. This morning he had lived his last high and mighty time. He sighed. “You poor darling,” said a sweet voice. “See what I've brought you.” Curt looked up. There was Alice. She was wearing a white silk sports dress. Her eyes were blue. Her hair was golden. She was a vision. She lifted a thermos bottle in her dainty hand. “See what I've brought you,” she said again. “I'll show you that I know how to be a woods boss’ wife.” “A woods boss’ wife?” said Curt. “Yes, darling. I called papa up last night and made him promise to let us move to one and I'll prove that I can make a good wife for a woods boss.” “Well, hell!” Curt’s head was whirling. “Now all is settled. Take what I brought you, dear.” Mechanically he took the thermos bottle an® opened it. Water! Water. All morning .he had pumped R, baled it, soaked sacks with it, drenched himself in it. He had felt that he never wanted %o hear the word “water” again. But now it was nectar, for Alice had opered paradise before him. Back to the tall timber! Back with a girl who wanted to prove herself a good woods boss’ wife! So long, society! He drank. The quart bottle was empty when he took it from his mouth. He bulged in his middle. He gurgled and sloshed inside. But he did not care. And neither did Alice care when he took her delicate hand in his begrimed paw.