Lakeland Evening Telegram Newspaper, September 12, 1914, Page 8

ROMANCE EVERYWHERE By CORA PILSNER. H 0000000000000000000000000 The little stenographer shuffied a pile of filing cards with languid air and looked dreamily at the bookkeper. “What a lot of romance there is!” she sald. “I mean what a lot of possibili- ties for romance! Now suppose a gust of wind should come in and carry one of these cards down to the street, and a girl should pick it up and see the name! Here's a card with the name and address of Thomas Carlyle, a fas- cinating name, I think. I seem to have heard it somewhere, but no matter. ‘What if this card should be blown out through the window? “Why, that little girl down there would find it, and she'd say, ‘It's surely fate!" And ehe'd take it home to her bedroom and dream over it! Yes, I guess she'd carry it around in her purse and snatch it out’whenever she was alone, fancying how he looks and wondering what he'd say if she should ‘write him! “Then, maybe, she'd actually de- velop the courage to do what her heart dictated, and she would write him! “And when he got the note ‘way oft there in his little western town, he'd sit down and picture to himself what | the girl who wrote it could be like!” The little stenographer spoke dream- ily and the bookkeeper smiled with patient condescension as he listened. “Then what did this Thomas Car lyle, ranchman, do?” said the book- | keeper, as the little stenographer paused, “Why,” said the little stenographer, “he went up to his little shack and sat down and wrote her a delighttully , breesy western letter, telling how glo- rious it was out there! ranch was paying, and how he needed some one to share the enjoyment of it | “kill” the smoke. all with him! He told how the fruit was ripening and the flowers growing, and how the bungalow was progress- —— S —— e o How his ' oy THE EVENING TELEGRAM LAKELAXD, FLA, SEPT. 12, 1914, - P— Tl enough, and he was coming right up after her! “And when ehe’'d write back she would net tell him that she wasn't ready or anything so silly, but she would be frank and say that she'd be waiting for him! And—" the little stenographer paused, come by the affecting vision. over- erately descended from his stool. He | strode over to where she sat. He put a paternal band on the head that | was held restfully on her hand. And . he smoothed her hair, as he spoke. “Did she have it so bad!” he said soothingly. “Well, and why didn’t she | just write to her Tommy Carlyle, and begin things? Why doesn't she sit | her right down and prepare for ranch | life! Think of the romance you're | missing, my child, while you pine away here, when here’s Tommy's address plain as ink!” He lifted the card until it was at a level with her eyes, but | she shook her head. “No,” she sighed. “It cannot be. | You see, I'm just sorting out the cards , of the down-and-outs—those who can’t ! pay their bills even if we go to law. | Yhis name Carlyle heads the list! This romance I've been spinning wouldn’t do for me, because I know | all about the names. I'll have to get | mine eome other way!" Sighing, she ishufled the cards.— Chicago Daily News. Smokeless Chimneys. A smokeless chimney may be pro- | duced by flooding the fire with afr, but this entalls a heavy increase in the chimney loss with a consequent waste of coal, according to Engineering Magazine. This does not mean that it pays to make smoke, although for a given furnace and set of conditions i may be so. In other words, there are cases when the losses due to incom- ! plete combustion as indicated by smoke may be less than the losses due to the admission of sufficlent air to This 18 the weak point of many so-called “smoke con- |sumers.” The sclence of the matter lies in the production of perfect com- ing up on the hilll Even as he wrote . Pustion, which ie necessarily smoke- ‘he could feel her sympathy, and knew that she was counting on his letter! “And then she would get it! And immediately ehe would begin to feel that life was entirely worth while again, because somebody needed her!” She sighed gently with a degree of sentimentality that irritated the book- keeper. “Ob—no intermissions for tearful music!” he commanded. “If you want me to sit through it, hustle along the next reell” “Well,” obediently continued the little stenographer, “they’d correspond of course, and they'd learn all about - each.pther. He would find that she :was getting only $16 a week, and hadn't any home. 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FOOT FITTERS S k] the exclusive the D GpPPPbd PP ISP BPPBP 0D DD BB BB DPD L oo | ! | » i t write that she had lived this way long ; SISO ISISIIISICIISIcK 1 CUARDAN ANGEL Again | gy MILDRED CAROLINE GOOD- RIDGE. “State senator—that’s a pretty high honor for a man young as you are,” spoke old Godfrey Bartels to his nephew, “If I get it, uncle,” submitted Randal Mead with a smile. “If you get it!” shouted his excit- able relative—*“with my money and in- fluence back of you and your good rec- ord, what’s to prevent the nomination, I should like to know? And that meane election.” “I can tell you in three words, uncle,” declared Randal. “Well, speak them.” “The river precincts.” “pAh!” The delicate nostrils of the old aris- tocrat dilated. He had been a stern, hard-driving master when he ran the nail mills. Not that he was not emi- nently just to his employes, but he rigidly exacted every penny of money due him and every minute of time paid for. sweetheart, the enthusiastic way lhoi goes about helping your cause.” “I declare,” murmured Mead, “you quite interest me.” “She is a graceful, reticent young girl,” proceeded Matlock. “She hu‘ addressed two or more meetings every | night for a week. She is fast changing | the sentiment of the voters. Mr. Mead, I am going to give you a very good | | | “Well, well!” the bookkeeper delib- | === piece of advice. Get down to Matlock at once, and follow up the splendid work this young settlement worker has started for you with your own elo- quence and persuasiveness as a nat-l ural orator.” | “Thank you, Carter,” said Mead in his quiet reflective way. “I'll think of ” Which Mead decided to do. More than once on his way to Matlock he recalled the name Lester. It gave no clue to a real identity. Then that i same night, as on the ekirts of a great crowd he listened to a silvery voiced, ! | modestly attired young girl press his | claims upon a respectful and attentive | audience, he traced nothing familiar in the sweet earnest face dawning upon him as the most beautiful he had ever seen. They passed on for a few squares to come upon a second meeting. A liquor- soaked voice, a campaigner for Mead's rival, was pouring out abuse upon the : young physician. Mead was about to | “That rabble!” he groaned out, and ' Mmove away when the baseless state: showed his teeth. “Don’t call them harsh names, uncle,” pleaded the young man chid- ingly. “You have a wrong notion of them and they of you. They are pay- ing off their old grudge on me now.” “Don’t see why,” growled the old man. “You've wasted money and time getting them libraries, and free hos- pitals, and clubrooms and all that.” “Well, my manager.has been down among them for a week,” said Randal. “He will be back tomorrow. Figuring closely, unless the mill district gives me one thousand five hundred clear majority, I'm off the slate, sure.” It meant a great deal to Randal Mead to secure the nomination in' view. There was nothing of selfish pride or vanity in the ambition. If ever there was a true man, it was Mead. Always of a sober, serious frame of mind, when his uncle sold out his mill interests, he, just graduated as a physician and surgeon, rejected a promising practice in a mnear city be- “Well, Speak Them!” cause of the field of usefulness he had chosen as offering the mission of his life. It was among the poor and lowly . that he had found his vocation. There were those who hated him because his uncle had been looked upon as an in-' dustrial tyrant. There were others, however, who idolized the self-sacri- ficing young man who had ministered to their needs from a pure humane impulse. Naturally the scope of endeavor and usefulness had broadened. The fact had dawned upon Mead that what he | could individually do for wretched down-trodden working people counted as little compared with his power it he could influence legislation in their behalf, Some of the advanced working clubs strongly advocated his candidacy for office. The movement grew. He was now in full-fledged condition in a hotly contested political campaign. ‘What Mead had said about the river precincts was true. Those districts were populated by a densely ignorant and prejudiced class. A disreputable and free-treating demagogue had won their ear and wag using money and artifice to sway the voters away from Mead. “Well, what have you to report?™ he inquired with some anxiety and dis- trust as his agent appeared the follow ing morning. “Good news!” buoyantly replied Ar nold Carter. “See here, do you happen to know anybody of the name of Les- ter?” “Lester—Lester?™ repeated Mead dubiously. “No, I am eure not. Why do you ask?” “Because upon the efforts of a com- munity worker, a Miss Eloise Lester, probably depend all your chances of winning in this contest. It seems she is a sort of guardian angel to the poor down Matlock way. Why, 1 don't know, but she is opposing your po- litical rival etrenuously and booming you. It may be because of the clear, clean principles involved, but one' would think she was a sister, or a “ ' schoolmasters. ment of the speaker that his uncle had misappropriated a large charity fund when he gave up business, aroused him. “I am going to answer that falsifier,” said Mead to his companion. “l wouldn't waste the time,” ad-. vised Carter. “He has a lot of tough heelers around him.” ' | But Mead, was fully roused up. He neared the platform as the speaker ing words: © “Men, I am Randal Mead, and I am , here to refute the vile aspersions of this prevaricator.” There was a sudden silence, then the hirelings of the baffled orator seemed to receive their cue. They drowned out the words Mead tried to speak with cat-calls and derisive yells. i “Take care!” suddenly shouted Car- ter, but he was too late. A missile hurtled through the air. It landed on the face of Mead, cutting a deep gash. The blood streamed down hie face as | he sank to the one chair on the plat- form, weak and half stunned. “Shame on you!” rang out a new voice and Mead was half conscious of a dainty form mounting to the plat- form and shielding him in a wild ap- peal to the audience. Then as in a dream he took in her words. She was telling the now awed and silenced mob a story, and the floodgates of his mem- ory suddenly opened wide. It was a brief, simple tale, the re- cital of how a young man himself had rescued a poor, seick woman from drowning in a steamer stampede at the risk of his own life, He had forgotten the incident. Now its details recalled to him where he had known the name Lester. The girl told of how her mother had bade her bless the name of Mead, how that noble act had induced her to turn her own energies towards living for the poor, the ignorant, the oppressed. Strong men tried to conceal their tears at the pathetic story. Then there was a great wave of interest in the hero of the tale, and then cheers. Randal Mead carried the river pre- cincts. From Matlock, the day after election, he carried also back to his uncle the news that he had found a worthy bride, a congenial life partner in his great life work of giving his strength and means for the good of poor humantty. (Copyright, 1914, by W. G. Chapman.) TRUE SCOPE OF EDUCATION Writer in Suburban Life Declares American Education Has Never Been Progressive. I have often marveled at the undis. ' puted fact that we Americans, alert and progressive as we are and always have been in matters touching our . material prosperity, have been so slow to recognize the true scope of educa- tion. Education, in our country, has never been progressive. It has never kept pace with the changing times. It has clung tenaciously to tradition and moved contentedly in ruts. No one thinks of looking for reformers among Seldom, if ever, have the firebrands of revolution sprung from this class. Instead of taking the lead in the vital question of the edu- cation of our youth, we have allowed foreign nations—notably Germany—to show us how to educate all the chil- dren of the people; in short, how to fit them for life. A generation or two ago, the col lege satisfied the demands of the times. The nation was proud of its products. It turned out such men as Webster, Everett, Hale, Sumner and Emerson. We did not discover until later that it was not the college which really trained these men, but real life, For the most part, they spent the early years of their lives either in rough pioneer fashion, or in appren- ticeship on the farm or in the shop. This sort of training, combined with the college, turned out practical men of affairs, as well as gentlemen of cul- ture.—Suburban Life. e sdindoita Its Drawback. “Don’t go into the welldigging busi« ness.” “Why not?” “Because it's sure to get you in a hole.” _ concluded his tirade and stepped promptly forward with the clear, ring- | NEATEST OF HAIR RECEIVERS ! Washable Article Is a Boon, Especlally | to the Woman Who Is Making ; a Journey. | A hair recelver that is washable is a boon. Of course, the china ones are also sanitary, but the receiver in ques- tion is really for the traveler's bag or grip. She can take it with her on a journey and save the combings, if she | so wishes, or dispose of them when | opportunity offers. It does seem that that is one thing that the average hostess will forget to provide, a hair receiver; and one’s hair, somehow, will hop out of the wastepaper basket and float about the room, in spite of all we can do. 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