Lakeland Evening Telegram Newspaper, May 5, 1913, Page 2

PAGR TWO ANPUPICUVT PP FUPOPOPR FOF0 4 s”;z?”fz (4) > éfim’k Vi < The moncy you are fiddling aw ay from day to day and weck to week would look mighty good in the bank at the end of the It wonld look better at the end of next week, because wien year. you once get ¢ nest egg, it s no sac rifice to go'without little un in your old age it would look arm, warm friend; and PRO TECT you. Do YOUR banking with U3 First National Bank OF LAKELAND OO OSOPOPOBOEOFCHMCHE OB LB T D CROO CRORFOFORIRRH OO THHORROCHIIORD necessary thines to avdd to it, and like a H Long Life of Linen along with good Inendry werk is what you are looking for and tbat is just whay we are giviag, Try w, ) Lakeland 3;1—1;1 Laundry Phone 130, West Main §8. ST ———— IMANY HAVE SEEN] The Accumulation of a Life Time SWEPT AWAY In One Short Hour FIRE it g g 7 VR e SO eRs [ ; rance Policy a Beneficent Restorer! t HAVE YOU ONE? Y. Z. MANN Ravmondo Bldg. Room 7, Phone 80 ISH YOU @& @ WHEN WE FURN TIO THE BEST IS NONE T00 GOOD~ 225 HARGURTA(0, 5 GRAVED BY CORRECT" MANUFACTURING ENGRAVERS LOVISVILLE, KY,U.S.A. WE ARE, THEIR EXCLUSIVE AGENTS FOR THEIR EXCLUSIVE LINEs Full line of Dennison's Gift Dressings; also Gibson Art Co's Engraved Specialties, Holiday and Fancy Goods, 1oys, Etc, LAKELAND BOOK STORE, R. L. MARSHALL CONTRACTOR AND BUILDER Will faruish plans and sposifioations or will follew any plams and spesiflentions furnished. SUNGILOWS A SPECIALTY Loy ma ahew you oames Lakelend homer I dave buily LAXELARR, Thone 267-Oreen FLORIDA 1 BIOPQIDEOHCPOL R0 QEQPQAF04 QPOFOFUHFOPOPOCODFT LT | EERENERENERE HICKS' TRICK MAR Was Quiet as a Babe and Fit for a Lady—to Good Horse- man. BY GEORGE MUNSON. Spur a horse? You're joking, sir. Yes, I wear spurs, because I ride with my heels out and my toes in, but if you'll look again, sir, you'll see that there’s no rowels in them. Same way with my whip, It’s restful like for the hand, and I'd touch my horse’s flank with the handle end, to signal him, but as for hitting him—why, there ain’t no animal more willing than a horse, nor one with more human intel- ligence or more anxious to please, it you treat him right. Yes, I suppose it is a gift, this un- derstanding of horses. Women? Bet- ter than men, I should say—that is, some men understand horses, but pret- ty near every woman who likes them gets to know them. That's what I liked about Miss Millicent. Came of & horse family, Kentucky born, and what she didn't know about horses—why, she'd talked horse since she was a baby, and her father, Colonel Emery, owned the finest stud in Lexington. Miss Mil- licent was brought up with the idea that a man who couldn't ride was only half masculine. And riding’s more than sticking on and waving the reins up and down or clicking to say “go faster.” I guess that click was what first put me wise to Faulkner. Finely made man he was, fine clothes, though some- what flashy to my taste, and Miss Mil- licent certainly took to him. But when I heard that little click of his I was on to him. A gentleman, sir, will no more click to his horse than he would to you and me. A little pres- sure of the kneces is all any horse needs to make him trot, and a pres- sure plus a tightening of the reins means canter. That's horse language, as it's been understood I suppose since horses first had saddles set on them. And so, mister, when I heard Faulkner clicking under his breath to Beauty, I said to myself: “You'd be | more in place driving a butcher's wng-' on than taking Miss Millicent riding.” | Then again he didn't ride natural. | He looked as though he'd taken 12! lessons for $10 to make a hit with Miss Millicent, Sat straight enough, toes in, hands down—until the trotting began. Then he'd show too much day- light between the saddle and those corduroy breeches of his, and he'd get o i o, ~ Bie e e (:.\,-\' W dadTeat He Was Swearing and Hollering. kind of forward and his elbows would crook. And he rode Beauty on the curb—her as wouldn’t have hurt a fly, 80 sweet-tempered she was and gentle. And her mouth: Lord, he sawed like a butcher! And butcher he was, for when he brought Beauty back I saw she was all of a tremble and sweat- ing like, and I looked at her flanks, and there were tne points of Mr. Faulkner's rowels. Miss Millicent had been sweet on young Mr. Drew, and he on her, beforo Faulkner appeared cn the scene in his twenty-five-dollar riding pants and ten- dollar gaiters. They used to ride to- | gether over the hills and I'd fall be- hind to sce them leaning toward each other out of their saddles. And thinks I, “God bless you both!” I'd known Miss Millicent every summer since | she was a baby, and though I hadn't met Mr. Drew before I could see the | sort of gentleman he was from the way he handled Beauty. And he didn’t wear no spurs, I couldn't see Faulkner hurting Beauty and cutting out Mr. Drew with- out taking some steps to stop him, Miss Millicent, as often happens, was a much better judge of a horse than of a She kuew a thoroughbred the moment she set eyes on him, but she didn't know Faulkner. Why, he'd have beaten Beauty if he'd dared. And he spurred her instead because Miss Millicent couldn’t see that. She wouldn't have stood for no whip. Faulkner found that out Just in time, I fancy. I puzzled a long time over it, I see | Mr. Drew getting mopier and mopier. He'd ride cut alone and meet them | by accident, and Miss M ent would | bow coldly to and Fau nod in his patronizing ) seemed all over with Mr, chances. I went into town to ci Ny 1 nd w THM NVENING TELBGRAM, LAk ELAND, FLA., MAY 6, 1913. to me. But I'd lend her to you—see- ing it's you—maybe, if you wouldn't ride her too hard. What's the game?” When I told him he swore he wouldn’t take any money. It was as good as a play, he said,and he hoped I'd tell him all about it the next day. You see, when you touched Nancy’s flank, ever 8o lightly, she'd run round and round like a spinning wheel until you got dizzy and tumbled off. And of course, none of those country jays who tried to ride her for tRe ten-dollar prize had sense enough to keep his heels off of her. “Can’t let you have Beauty today, sir,” 1 told Mr. Faulkner the next morning. “She's a little off her feed, sir. But I've a nice little mare here— quiet as a babe and fit for a lady,” I says, knowing he was a coward with horses. For only a coward would have misused Beauty so. “But don’t spur her,” 1 added, “because if she is a little slow she does her best, and she ain’t so young as she was.” You see, mister, I had to give the fellow his chance. I warned him— that’s fair, I knew he’d tear her flanks, but I wasn't going to let Miss Millicent suffer if I could help it. “Mr, Drew,” says I that same morn- ing, “if you was to take a little ride out to Holmes' Height about eleven o'clock, maybe it wouldn’'t come amiss.” “What 4' you mean, asks, sharp as a needle. “Nothing more than that, sir,” I an- swered. “Take Beauty, sir. She's been mishandled and she'll like to feel she’s carrying a gentleman again.” He grinned. “I don't quite follow you, but I'm on, Hicks,” he says. And s0 I saddled my little mure and rode out with Miss Millicent and Faulkner, and fell behind, as a groom ought to when his young lady has a beau. I fell a good ways behind that day, and when we reached Holmes’ Height they had disappeared over the rise. I knew Faulkner would just about have got up courage to try his spurs by the | time the trick mare was winded. And sure enough, hardly had I got to the | top when I heard Miss Millicent | screaming—not with fear, but with laughter. There sat Faulkner, clinging to the mare’s neck with both hands, his feet working iike windmills, and the little mare going round and round and round in a lot as big as a circus ring. His | coat tails was flying, and he was swear- ing and hollering, and presently he flew over the mare's neck and she stopped stock still and watched him land in a pool of the stickiest mud anywhere in the neighborhood. And Just at that minute Mr. Drew comes riding along and stops and picks Faulkner out of the mire. But he wouldn't get on the mare’s back any more. So Mr. Drew sees Miss Milli- cent home, and Faulkner and I fol- lows, me leading the mare and him walking. But I noticed Miss Millicent and Mr. Drew leaning inward on their saddles again like they used to. That's all, sir, except this gold watch Mrs. Drew gave me the day they were married. “I understand, Hicks,” she said to me. And what do you think she did? 1If she didn’t put her hands in mine and cry with hap- piness. Yes, me, sir. I'm her head coachman now, but when Miss May gets a little older I'm going to take her riding and teach her to handle horses. You see, it comes out in the blood, mister. (Copyright, 1913, by W, G. Chapman.) CRATER CRACKED BY SNOW Rumblings of Vesuvius Not a Sign of Eruption, According to Famous Expert. Heavy snow which this year cov- ered Vesuvius has caused considerable cracks around the crater of the vol- cano and serious collapses of earth and rocks into the interior, accom- panied by heavy rumblings. The loud- est of these roars, however, was caus- | ed by a great mass of basalt, which, after having remained isolated for some time on the top of the crater, rolled not down the crater, but down the mountain outside, its dark outline showing up against the bed of snow. Professor Mercalli, director of the Vesuvius Observatory, and his assis- tant, Professor Mal succeeded in reaching the top of the abyss and the latter descended by ropes into that crater, which became extinet after the eruption of 1806, and fond it flled with snow, of which only the upper strata { was beginning to melt under the in- fluence of the sirocco, wi:ile those be- { neath showed no sign of dissolving. “This proves,” explained Professor Mercalll, “that the zone of fire must be at a considerable distance from the bottom of this crater, obstructed by the voluminous basaltic matter which fell during the last eruption, when the cone formed in 1879 subsided. This is sufficient to disprove any alarmist re- ports, spread especially abroad, to the effect that Vesuvius is giving signs of serious actlvity. “Of course, a return to activity is inevitable, since the columns of fire which are constantly pressing against the sides of the funnel-like opening will end in finding a way out, but most probably this process will take from five to twenty years, | ity which meanwhile can be ils that of sulphur jets and ! which appear whe thinnest, especially in the h ! of the mountain. Toget! phenomena there will be Hicks?” he rected the » w1 mali and grating noises, which need alarm no one, as they of telluric set nent.” Politeness is ] o sir cushior; there may be nc: in i, but it The enlv activ- | fs nal collapses and thereiore rumblings | re simple phenomena | ygeless — HIS NAME WAS JOHN By STANLEY B, HOUCK. ———————— His name was John, despite the fact that he was called Jack; and he was s junior in college. Her name was Marjory, and she was a senior. Jack was sitting on the library steps scheming a means of relieving himself from a self-imposed dilemma of which he was on one horn and Marjory the other. She had started it three years be- fore at a reception where they had met. Since then neither had lost any opportunity of assuring the other of his undying affection in many varied and amusing ways. Now he wanted seriously to tell her of his love for her, but he had told her of it so often in fun that he couldn't quite see any way of making her take his declaration as being made seriously in earnest and not made merely in fun. “A penny for your thoughts, Jack,” she said, brightly, when at last she arrived. “Thinking about you, Marjory,” he replied. “The trouble is that I'm afraid youw'll cut me dead if I tell you my thoughts.” “No, I won't.” “All right. Let's take a walk down the river, and I'll think it over,” he decided, making a sudden reso- lution. As they went along he began to wonder what the outcome of it all would be. The more he thought the weaker his resolution became—there was Marjory, the prettiest and most perfect girl in the world, and on the other hand, here was he, just an or- dinary, average sort of a fellow. At last they pasred below the last city bridge, and were alone by the river, away from all the noise and ao- tivity of the busy city. *“Are you going to tell me now?" she asked. “No, not yet,” he answered, sparring for time, “but if you will tell me what you were thinking about while we were coming here, maybe I'll begin to lead up to it.” “I was wondering whether this would be the last time I would ever take this walk, and you don't know how sad it makes me feel to think how soon my school days will be over for ever.” “That's just what I was thinking, Marjory, and I was wondering how it would seem next year to take this walk without you. Do you know, I've never taken this walk with any other girl but you? and when I think of you not being here next year, it makes me feel as though I'll never go down this way enjoying it the way I have.” “We have had some mighty good times together, haven't we, vack?" “So good that I'll never forget them.” He paused a little and then began again: “Do you remember the first night we met and became ao quainted?” Do I? Well, I should say I did. I don'’t believe two people ever became 80 “chummy” in so short a time as: { we did; and you were just as impu- dent as you could be, too.” “Do you realize that this is the first really serious talk we've ever had?” he said. “I do believe you're right, Jack; I know I couldn't crack a joke today it my life depended upon it.” “Let's sit down on this tree trunk awhile before we go back,” he said without replying. For awhile neither spcke. Then he sald: “Marjory.” “Yes, Jack.” “Shall T tell you now what I was thinking of when you found me at the library steps?”’ : “Of course; that's what we came way out here for, wasn't it? It must be something important, or you wouldn’t have come so far.” He turned his eyes upon hers and they 8o spoke in anticipation of his words that she instinctively felt what he was about to say and a slow flush crept up over her cheeks and her eyes dropped from his. He noticed it, and it gave him an inexplicable thrill of strength to say: “I was wondering whether you loved me, Marjory, dear; I was wondering whether I could come back here again next year and be happy with you gone, I was thinking how much I needed you. Why, I've loved you ever since I first saw you, and every word I've ever said to you in all our Joking, I've meant, and more, with all my heart and soul. Why, I've got so used to thinking I belonged to you that I haven't done a thing all these years without asking myself what you'd say to it if you knew. I can't say any more, dear, just I love you, love you, all the time. Will you tell me, now, what you are going to do with me?” Then she raised her eyes to his ;galn, and they were glistening with oy. “Oh, Jack, you dear, dear, big, blind | 80ose—you're worse than Cupid him- selt” Then she was swallowed up in a hungry embrace. (Copyright, by Daily Story Pub. Co.) e e Uselessness. “I should advise you to joln the S“:lety for the Prevention of Useless Clving,” said the unenthusiastic man. “But you are inconsistent. As a rule, there isn’t anything you can give a2 man that is liable to prove more than advice.” A New Thought, wonder these ultra society host- esses do not “r give dried apple teas.” | Why on earth, dried apples?” “Because tacy are such swell af- fairs.” eases the Jolts woaderfully.—George | Eliot. | | torse is worth five thousand dollars | Come to us for the goods advertised in JOHNSON & JOHNS0yy First Aig Handboo} NOW BEING DISTRIBUTED, LAKE PHARMAC United Brotherkood of Carpench and Joiners of America, Local 17 Meets every Tuesday night o o'clock, at McDonald's hall. h R. L. MARSHALL, Presido J. W. LAYTON, Vice Pres. § J. W. LOGAN, Treasursr § J. H. FELDS, Fin. 8ecy. H. F. DIETKICH, Rec. 8¢ H. L. COX, Conductor. SAMUEL BOYER, J. W. 8CARR, C. L. WILLOUGHBY, Beard of Trustees. Lakeland Lodge No. 91, F. & M. Regular communications hel second and 4th Mondays at 7:30 m. Visiting brethren cordixlly i# vited. J. C. OWENS, W X # J. P. WILSON, Se Lakeland Chapter, R. A 29 meoets the first Thursday o'« each month in Masonic Hall ing companions welcomed. A Leonard, H. P.; J. F. Wilson, 8¢ Palm Chapter, Q. B. 8. mee!s ¢" second and fourth Thursday tit! ot each month at 7:80 p. m. ¥ Viora Keen, W. M.; J. F. Wik b2y, Lakeland Camp Ne. 78, W. V. meets every second and f~arth Thiy day night. Woodmen Circle o Phorsueys. W3 Batn ‘ouncil Commander, Mrs. Bellle & of Cirele. " K OF 2 Regular meeting every I 3t 7:30 at 044 Fellows Hall. V4 ing wembers alway welcoms g F. D. BRYAN Chancellor Commard A R _ACKSON, Becretary POST 33, G. A. R Moeta the first Saturaay i ' month at 10 s m. at the bom¢ J. M. Bparling on Kentucky 7€ A. C. SHAFFER, Commanie J. R. TALLRY, Adjutant Elnera Rebekad Lodge N meets every second and fourth ¥¢ day nights at L. O. 0. F. hall. V ing brothers and sisters cordiallf vited, MRS. ¥. C. LONGMAN, N. 0 MRS LA SELLERS, Sec lake Lodge Ne. 3,100 meets Friday aights at 7:30, ¢ 0. 0. . hall. Visiting drotber? cordially tavited. 4. L. REYNOLDS, 8 W. P. PILLIANS, N.4 ottt GLAtBLE Oraage Blomsons Div. No G L A to B. of L. B. meets® second and fourth Wednesdc™ {esch month at 3:30 p. m. 7% | Siaters always welcoms MRS J. C. BROWN ' ———— ORDER OF EAGLES o The Fraternal Order of % meets every Wednesday n'sd! 7:30, at 0dd Fellows' hall. I. H. WILLIAMS, Presiéest E M SMAILS Seercte??