Lakeland Evening Telegram Newspaper, September 24, 1913, Page 6

10 & - “Clincher” Paint We know a paint which holds to the wood like a driven nail. Seasoncd lumber is porous. The pores are the empty sap- cells. White lead paint, which dries on the wood in the form of a solid, elastic film, fastens into these pores, and the whole coat of paint is actually riveted like armor- plate to the surface it decorates and protects, Atlantic White Lead Dutch Boy Trade Mar¥ and Pure Linseed Oit make the paiut that spreads into a solid body. itself—an outer layer that preserves the tife of the lumber. Ve sell it as well as otlier painting req- Come in and have a talk with us It becomes a part of the wood aisites. about painting. Jackson & Wilson Co. Of Hart Schaffner and Marx Clothing has just arrived. Also Bonar Hats, Kneeland Shoes and the Arrow Brand Shirts | Our Ties this Fall in Velvet will surprisc you, as they are the grandest that have ever been in South Florida. Come in and look over our Boys’ Clothingalso | Outfitter The Hart Schaffner & Marx Clothing | The Hub Lakeland Paving&Construction Co. : Artiticial Stone, Brick and ' H JOS. LeVAY Concrete Bullding Material Estimates Cheerfully Furnished on Pavlng: and all Kinds of Artificial Stone Work 307 West Main Street- Phone 348-Black ' FJ HOFFMAN J N OAVIS ). P. NEWBECKER - Pres. Sec.& Tres. Sopt, & Gen. Man. V. Pres & Asst Man : SRR AR IO ST (6Lt T S R I IF YOU ARE IN THE MARK'T For Tin!Sheet Iron, Copper, Zinc o: y kind of Roofing Work call the LAKELAND SHEET METAL WORko Smith-Hardin Building {Phone 279 ° Ask for J. P. CARTIN We can fix that leaky roof. _Our Motto is: Modest Prices and All Work Guaranteed, . 200 L9 HeOeDNISOSINOITSTSOE - THE EVENING TELEGRAM, LAK ELAND, SEPT. faiirtrisiestitinsnadidedsiziibesatasaissesstetini] WORTH GF REAL MAN By H. M. EGBERT. Charles Coggswell, president of half a dozen corporations and a man to be reckoned with in Wall street, came out of his club at half past two. He had indulged in a hearty lunch and was tasting again in remembrance the excellent steak a la reine which Georges, the chef, had provided. He had an appointment with his lawyer at three, to settle the details of the alimony which he was to allow his wife, who was about to separate from him. He also wanted to change his will, cutting off his scapegrace son who preferred the life of a composer to that of a bank president. These things were annoying, he reflected, but then that steak a la reine had been superb. “Heigho!” he sighed. “When a man gets to be forty-five his troubles mul- tiply.” And he fell to thinking how hardly fate used him. As he stepped into the street a news- boy ran into him, yelling at the top of his volce. He picked himself up and thrust a paper under Mr. Coggswell's nose. “Suicide of a millionaire!” he yell- ed; and there, sure enough, was the announcement, in big, black lettering. Mr. Coggswell bought a copy, and the next minute was was staggering back against the wall of the club. The suicide was that of himself. When he had recovered a little he read as follows: “Mr. Charles Coggswell, president of the United Reality and Union corpo- ration, and a well-known figure on the Street, shot himself in the temple at half-past one oclock this afternoon, in a lodging house on the Bowery. Al- though he had dressed himself in shab- by clothes and destroyed all evidences of his identity, Mr. Coggswell's fea- tures were too well known for his death to remain long unknown. The body, which was identified by mem- bers of his family, and his partners and business assoclates, who were Staggering Back Against the Wall. hastily summoned, was removed at first to the morgue, but now lies at his home, where the inquest will be held this afternoon.” Coggswell knew the man—a double of his, strikingly alike even to the gait and gesture, who had once or twice impudently demanded money from him on the strength of the resemblance, until Mr. Coggswell had threatened to have him arrested. Then the fellow had disappeared—to end his days by his own hand in the haunts he had frequented. The first impulse of the financier was to hurry to his office and summon the reporters in order to inform them of their error. Then a new idea came to him, so unexpectedly that he flung out his arms as though to ward off a blow. “Suppose I were dead,” he thought. “Would the world be better off or worse?” The idea was so staggering that he felt the need of time to think it over. Time and a place! He had a little private office in an unfrequented street off Broadway. He employed nobody there and no one knew of this retreat, to which he sometimes went to pon- der over busiuess deals in solitude. He made his way there, unlocked the door, and sat down at his desk. If he were dead, wiped out, no longer a factor in the affairs of men, what would it mean to the world that he had known? What did his life mean? His death meant release and money | musician son it | to his wife; to his meant the inheritance of which he was to have been deprived. His part- ner, Prentice, and he had always been at loggerheads, and nine times out of |ten Prentice had been right in his | views. | person whom his life benefitted, but could not do so. Then why should he not be dead? He could lay hands upon ten thousand i dollars. With his experience and | knowledge he could take this, go to | some distant state, and renew his for- | tune, shake off the past. He had not | yet realized that our past binds us in { Invisible chains of steel. Acting upon Coggswell tried to think of one ' { the impulse, he donned a rough old ; | suit which he kept in a closet, clipped lhis mustache close, and passed outl 24, 1913. into the strect. that thus emerged nobody would recognized the president of one \‘»1 ; largest corporations in the umn.r):’ : His plan, as yet roughly for‘mn-ll, was to go to the Grand (‘untl_'m station, take a ticket for some dls(a_m city, and leave on the next train, Ilrst'p.ur- chasing a few toilet necessities, change of linen, and, of course, a suit- case. The adventure pleased him. He felt a strange happiness such as had long been unfamiliar to him. There would be no more steak a la 1 more likely he would eat in Pimlico and Harvard lunch rooms, a8 the five- cent counters are euphoniously desig- pated. He bent his steps uptown, walking, because he needed physical exercise to enable him to concentrate his actively working brain. He had traveled into the Thirties before he realized how near he was to his des- tination. Then, since the habits of years are not lightly overcome, he discovered that his feet had led him toward his club. A little group of members was gathered round the ln'zll porter. Coggswell lingered near. No- body recognized him. “Yes, gentlemen, I saw him enter with my own eyes, at the very momgm he shot himself," the man was saying. “Don’t tell me there ain't no ghosts. for in the future I'll know different. have the And Mr. Georges swears he cooked ! him a steak a la reine with his own hands.” “Ah! The old habits persist aftcr death,” sneered Barnwell, one of his business rivals. “I'll bet he’s busy cornerning harps and bulling halos,” said another. “Coggswell won't let a chance slip by.” Some were too good hearted to speak i1l of the dead, but none had a good word for him. The shabby man turned away. It was growing dark, when starting up from a reverie, he discovercd that he was standing in front of his house on Madison avenue. He had forgotten all about his plans. An intense desire to revisit his home had taken posses- sion of him. Nobody was stirring in the street. The shades were down at all the win- dows. Coggswell let himself in noise- lessly and slipped along the hall and up the stairs, creeping like a guilty man hounded by adversaries. At the head of the first flight the lone drone of voices reached his ears. The draw- ing room door was slightly ajar, and inside he saw the coffin, surrounded with lights, and persons standing near t. He crept up to his den at the top of the house. As he reached the last story he saw a figure coming toward him, followed by another, and shrank back into a closct just as they came round the bend in il passage. They were two serving maids, and, as they paused, he heard one of them say: “Why are you taking on so, Mary? He wasn't no good, for all I've heard tell of him. Didn't he drive that good wife of his out of his house and spoil her life for her?” “I can't help it.,” sniffed the other. *“He mayn't have been a good man, but he saved my brother's life." They passed on, and something leaped up in Coggswell's heart. He remembered now a carelessly tossed hundred-dollar bill to the housemaid, when he had learned that her brother was suffering from tuberculosis, When they had disappeared he went down the steps with a firmer tread. Never- theless, outside the drawing room door he paused and listened. Prentice, his partner, was speaking. *I tell you, Mrs. Coggswell,” he was saying, “Charles was a good man. Never you worry about his superficial faults. 1 knew him more intimately than any man of his acquaintance, and I know that a warm heart beat under the affectation of selfishness. tell you stories—" “0, I know he was," his wife sob- bed. “It is T who have been at fault. When he was a young man, struggling to make his way in the world, I stood between him and success. I was no helpmate to him. I thought of nothing but dinners and dresses. O, Charles if you could only know, if you could only come back to me!" A graver voice was speaking. It was that of the clergyman. Coggs- well had been a liberal subscriber to church funds, mainly for advertising reasons, “You must not reproach yourself, | Mrs. Coggswell.” he was saving “Your husband was a good man, but he fail- ed as you say vou failed, simply be- cause he did not the people abo alwoys und ind ) him. e was a rigid- ly good and h rable man in many | ways—and a liberal one - A fourth voice took up the parable. | Coggswell started and clenched his | fists in bitter remorse. The voice wag | that of his son -+ “I know {othe; eant to do well b\" me,” he said You kr believed that ¢ 1 himself, to develo character. That's wl worry along bless him! He w: men that ever The voices ¢ to Coggswell come to the new Why should he go a identity when 1 the real life w: mother, he Id shift for he left me to I could one of the finest V. and it b he 1 ad @ h that he desired anc T ais atoned for, all the battle to be fought out over again in the ace ustomed t:r tlefield. He hesitated . sofetly opened the (Copyright, 1912, by st o Massage for Appendicitis. Dr. Albert Abrams, of Sap Francis- co, predicts the early dla.qppp“ram: of surgery as a remedy for appendi citis. He says a massage [rpalm:,:, will displace it i In the shabby figure | ¢ reine; | I could | dence of ts to be | ! AFew Fancy Good., 25¢c 35¢ 35¢ 20c 35¢ 15¢ 30c 15 and 25¢ 30c Kippered Herring Plum Pudding Boned Chicken Dill Pickles per dozen Heinz Mince Meat Apple Butter Sliced Pineapple 25¢c Imported Sardines o4 Mushrooms « Cod Roe Lyles Golden Syrup 25¢ | Crab Meat 25¢ W.P. PILLANS “Florlda Avenue Grocer” “Pure Food Store” Phone 93 SUPAROCHIOTIOINC e, ¢ IF YOU ARE THINKING OF BUILDING, SEE ! MARSHALL & SANDERS | The O0ld Rellable Contractors Who have been building houses in Lakeland for years, ang who never “FELL DOWN" or failed to give satisfaction. All classes of buildings contracted for. The many fine residences buily by this firm are evidgnces of their ubilityte wake good. MARSHALL & SANDERS Phone 228 Blue OO OO CRRRCRT ORI K ROROHORCROACHIRCHORCHOHOROINOH DR O i School Books and School Supplies Tablets, Pencils, Ink, Crayons, L.unch Baskets, Book-bags, Etc WE CAN SUPPLY YOUR WANTS LAKELAND BOOK STORE Benford & Steitz P —— IF YOU KNOW The selection will be the best The variety unmatched The quality unsurpassed The price the lowest All these you find at our store Just trade with us This settles the question of living s s X439 55 50 .13 Best Butter, per pound. .. ... Bugar, 17 pounds ... ... Cottolene, 10 pound pails Cottolene, 4-pound pails t pounds Snowdrift Lard., $nowdrift, 10-pound pails....... Cessesaee | [ Goa ! | D U 3 cans family size Cream 8 cans baby size Cream ....... " “ene ” Ground Coffee, per pound .. .. . : i @ § gallons Kerogene . e L e