Lakeland Evening Telegram Newspaper, May 19, 1915, Page 7

opyrigbt, 1915, by W. G. Chapman.) pe Stevensons were rich and un- Y- Their next-door neighbors, Martins, were desperately poor, life was to them a radiant dream. ¢ Stevensons lived in a big ten- bm house, luxuriously furnished, 4 had lots of money. David Martin hled as a laborer at a town iron mill, 4 his frugal wife counted over ev- penny twice before it was invest- thus close they were forced to put the Martins had a treasure— finie, their adopted niece—and her esence made the humble home glow th sunshine and laughter whenever . was within its precints. She brked at a store in the village as hier, but home talent was paid for eaply, and her contribution to the sehold fund was quite small. ot very genial neighbors, those evensons, observed Mr. Martin, ming home from his work one cold mber evening. fancy they don’t consider us their nd” returned his plain, practical fe. “Mrs. Stevenson has nodded to e once or twice, but only at a dis- nce, and then quite sourly.” .gtevenson himself came out of the te of his house just as 1 passed,” btinued Mr. Martin. “I spoke, but e didn't answer me, although I think e really was so abstracted in thought hat he didn't know me.” ] think you are quite right, fa- er added Vinnie, in her kindly, aritable way. “I have heard that hey have a great sorrow—a runaway on. He left them after some trouble e got into three years «go. A year nce, I have heard, they learned that e was one of a number killed in a yelone in New Mexico.” . “Oh, dear, that is sad!” spoke up rs. Martin, quickly and sorrowfully. They have their cross to bear, indeed a lost son, a lonely home,” and she ame up to Vinnie and enfolded her in loving clasp and kissed her tender- An unhappy home, indeed, was that bt the Stevensons. They had lost heir only child, a bright, promising ad, who, when he came of age, had wifrans Became a Wanderer and a Fugitive From Justice. developed a tendency to sow wild oats, Petted by his father, idolized by his mother, Warren Stevenson had tadly disappointed his parents. In a fight in a gambling resort, he, an onlooker only, had paid the penalty for being in such a place by receiving 8 bullet wound that stripped off the top of three of the first fingers of his left hand. This seemed to teach him ® lesson for a time. Then he fell from grace again. He drifted into the company of a desperate burglar. Innocently Warren was involved in a case where a man was killed. He Plaved the part of the craven and be- came a wanderer and a fugitive from justice. Within a year the real mur- derer died in prison, shouldering the entire responsibility for the crime and completely exonerating Warren. His parents had then sought for him everywhere, but their quest had proved unavailing. The news -of his death in the cyclone was the final Erief that broke their hearts. Be- reaved, broken down by sorrow and regret, no marvel was it that they be- came cynical, isolated and uncom- Panionable. One evening a neighbor came into the home of Mr. Martin on a brief call. In the course of conversation be brought up the subject of the unso- cial neighbor, with the remark: “Friend of mine told me that this Stevenson objects mightily to your burning soft coal, Martin." “Why, is that so?" queried Mr. Mar- tin. surprisedly. “Yes he says that whenever the ¥iud is from the nmorth it blows the 00t in regular flakes against his Good Advice About Oilcloth. After washing oflcloth and linoleum, sure to dry it properly. If left damp it will speedily rot and soon be- tame totally ruined. It is a sgreat Wistake to use too much water for | with feathers of soot. house. It's just bee 5 n painted white, lnd' it's spoiling it. Of course, you ;mn help that. ] 0 afford anthracit ton, eh?” o “Maybe not,” res o > ponded Martin, se- :':un:“;: but T can be just, even it it e something. I T g never thought When he came to look at the side of ten dollars a ; the Stevenson house, Martin saw that the soot had, indeed, m: bl , marred and de- eaves, the clapboards were grimed Acting on a '(;znero:s impulse, he hailed his neigh- T, who just happened to be into the house. S “I say, Stevenson,” spoke the blunt, honest fellow, “I've just found out that my soft coal is hurting your property. I shall use coke through the re‘!t of the winter, and first holi- day I'l get a ladder and give the slv?e of the house a good scrubbing.” \‘\'hy—thank you—I must say you're thoughtful and kind—yes, thank you,” and Stevenson acted as though this unusual courtesy of a stranger fairly overcame him Before the opportunity to remedy | things came about, however, some startling events transpired One morn- ing Martin came out into the vard to find a ladder taken from his shed standing against the side of his neigh- bor's house. The window of an up- per room was open. Mr. Stevenson was under a great strain of excitement. He declared that the house had been burglarized. “Was anything taken?” asked Mr. Martin. “Why, not much.” explained his neighbor in a bewildered sort ot a way. “The room the burglar got into is the one my poor dead sonfoccupied. We have left it just as it was when he went away. Whoever broke into the house opened a drawer where Warren kept a few trifling trinkets A watch, a revolver and some gold cuff links are missing, but nothing else was disturbed.” “That is singular,” observed Martin thoughtfully, and he went up the lad- der a step or two. “Why, sav, Mr Stevenson,” he called down ‘o his neighbor, “here is something queer.’ “What {s that?" was asked “In getting into the burglar has left some around its frame” “Why, yes—1 can see it from here, replied the owner of the despoiled home. “Right among that troublesome black soot of mine.” continued Martin, rather apologetically. “And s why, hello! Whoever the fellow was he's left a clue.” “What do you mean?" “Hand prints show that he had three short fingers on one hand—why, sir! What s the matter?” Quickly the speaker descended the ladder. With a sharp cry of enlight- enment, Mr. Stevenson had started back. “Three short fingers!” he gasped out hoarsely. “Then—it must have been Warren. Oh, he is not dead, but alive! Mother! mother!" he shouted, rushing into the house and seeking his wife, and leaving the stupefled Martin standing staring after him, unable to comprehend the meaning of his strange actions What the father surmised turned out correct, a little later. His son was indeed alive. He had stolen bak home, poor, homeless, 1. It would be no robbery to take his own. Shamed at his mistaken past, he had hurrled away, after taking the price of a few needed meals, but his father, with the aid of the police, soon locat- ed him, It was a joyful moment when the recovered son was told that the dread- ed hand of the law had been removed. “All because of that blessed soot of yours—all honor to soft coal,” the de- lighted Stevenson had told his neigh- bor. And a true neighbor he made of him, and paturally Warren Stevenson met Vinnie. Closer and closer grew the ties of true neighborliness, and of love, and then the natural sequence of a happy wedding. - Ivory Carvers of Canton. There are in Canton, China, about forty shops in which articles of ivory are made and sold. Each shop 8 small; it consists usually of a show- room that opens to the street, and a back room where the cutting is done. The industry falls into two stages— cutting and carving, says an English paper. Tusks imported from Siam oon- stitute the raw material. These are first cut by a saw into shapes that are suitable for the carvers to work on. The cutting apparatus congists of a wooden block or vise, a saw and a tub of water, The workman fixes the ivory firmly in the vise, moistens it with water and cuts it to the desired thick- e8S. . After the cutting is finished, the workmen carve the pieces into s?mpe with knives of many different kinds. All of them, however, have short blades and long handles made of bam- boo. The carvers also use saws made of wire and a gimlet w:rked by a wirling apparatus of leather. - ’lrrl:eri sl;g only a few expert Ivory workers in Canton; in fact, there are said to be only six of them. An expert carver seldom works in the shop that employs him He generally works in his own house, and can earn about thirty dollars a week in Canton cur rency—Youth's Companion. e the marks window hand More Pressing Needs. 7 need shoes.” : “Then why don’t you buy some? «It js evident that you know mnhi:g family life. My graphophone needs :;cc?rds and my wife needs dancing lessons.” o Phoebe’s Only Chance. mntut-mmnotm on their rat catching records; there- fore it would be of no use to enter Phoebe. She'll have to be shown in e steel and wire trap exhibition.— Toledo Daily Blade. You're hardly able | Especially up under the | ] i ! was Arlo Willig FromRagsto Silk Attire TT005500588080300 By Augustus Goodrich Sherwin (Copyright, 1915, by W. G. Chapman.) Rags—a room full of them, a ware- house given to shreds, patches, frag- ments, to strips of rotted woolen lengths, thin and faded cotton tat- ters. Rags once white, now spotted and soiled. Discarded silks from my lady’'s dressing room, homespun weaves that bore the mark of rain and grime, and wear and tear. And amid the biggest heap of the frazments to be sorted plodded and pure and bright a spirit as ace might contain. They called her oribel. Where she came from, who her father and mother. no one seemed to know except old Jac , the owner of the rag shop. Once his wife had given it out that they had reared her from a child, had taken her from an orphan asylum They were coarse, common people at the rag shop, but even in that atmos- phere of dregs Floribel grew like g beautiful lily. She would sing when alone like a lark, but never when Madame Jacobs was about. Floribel was in deep dread of the lynxlike, tigerish-eyed old woman. Not that the madam ever mistreated her, except to keep her at work twelve hours a day, but because she shrank from the inharmonious nature of the woman. Madame gripped at the heaps of rags in a way that seemed to tell that so forcefully would she tear at human hearts, if she could find gold among them! Once Floribel had found a diamond ring in an eld glove. When she gave it to the madam, the selfish, avari- cious glee of her task mistress fairly appalled her. She gloated over it she kissed it, she hastened to convert it into money. After that, the probing eager eyes of the old woman terrified Floribel Ever on the lookout for treasure, for money or trinkets, the rag woman re- sembled some famished ferret en the scent of blood. Then one day “The Hero" came into the lonely life of the beautiful iso- lated girl. A young man entered the place and acked for its proprietor Old Jacobs was absent on a rag buy ing trip. The madame was also ab- sent, but would return soon. In awe of the rich tasteful attire ot the un- familiar caller, fascinated with his handsome face, the courtesy of the true gentleman that he bestowed She Gloated Over It. upon her, as i a dream Floribel dust- ed off the one rickety chair in the place and resumed her work. He sat looking at her with more than common interest. Her pure, in- nocent face deeply attracted him. He influenced the shy eyes to seek his own, he led her to talk with him. Soon he had her simple story. “It is mo place for you, this,” he <aid, and he took a card from his pocket and wrote upon it. “I am giv- ing you the address of my sister,” he explained. “She is a widow, young, lonely. 1 am sure she ouid find you a brighter home than this wretched place.” Then Madam Jacobs came in. The young man stated his business. He nis sister was Mrs Ivan Neal The latter had removed from a former home. A great part of its old furniture, the varied coatents of a lumber room, had been sold Among some papers, oldspapers that had been thrown out from the old furniture, was a certain document the caller wished to recover. The second-hand dealer who had brought the stuff had informed him that all the old carpets, rags and pa- per had been sold to Jacobs. Could madame recall the transaction, Mr Willis inquirea juite anxiously. ‘Scarcely,” she told him, but the watchful Floribel noted a quick eager gleam in her.basilisk eyes “1 will cearch, though, she promised, “and tet you know. The document, sir—" “Is a number of folded blue sheets, tied with a faded white ribbon. It s marked ‘W!""~ «] will report to you,” pledged madame, and took his card, and he! the most expensive woods used regularly in an established is- Anutunurry-gn.lnoteorn' in the United States is box- favorite material for wood It has been quoted at four cents a cubic inch, and about $1.300 by the thousand board feet. | upon her new life. ‘ fery awful.” left the gruesome place, but not until he had bestowed a kindly parting glance at Floribel. Then she dreamed. radiant. It was as prince had entered a squalid Cin- derella hut, leaving behind him a rare memory of bewildering sensa- tions. Poor child! love budded in her tender heart, in her very humility she worshiped at its shrine. Floribel treasured the card. She memorized the names upon it. Could the vision indicated by her courteous visitor ever come true? To have such friends, to be cared for amid clean)i- ness and comfort—she thought not of opulence or luxury—just to be near such sweet natures, to toil for them, to love them—this, simply, was the aspiration of her childlike, loyal na- ture! All that afternoon the madame poked and ferreted about the place. When her husband came home she held a spirited low-toned conversation with him. Then both of them pro- ceeded to ransack pile after pile of hitherto unassorted wreckage. A quick token of interest came into the mind of Floribel, as she saw them hastening to the wretched room digni- | fied as the office of the old loppllng‘ warehouse. The names “Willis™ “Neal” floated to her hearing, cau- tiously spoken. She gained a court where she could overhear what was said. “It's the paper,” she heard the madame say, “and it is worth a for- tune.” “How do you know?" spoke the rasping tones of old Jacobs. “I have read it. A family secret, man—an old scandal that these rich people would surely give a fortune to suppress. Ah, we are rich, rich, rich at last!” Guileless as to the ways of the world as Floribel was, she realized from what followed that her avari- cious guardians were bent on a vast | blackmailing scheme. Her mind woke | up to the immensity of the occasion. To celebrate their discovering a fortune, the old man and woman sent out for liquor. It was long after dark when they sank into a sodden sleep. Floribel approached the recumbent madame. She had noticed where she had se- creted the blue colored document with a white ribbon encircling it, just as Mr. Willis had described. Her eyes grew brilliant as two stars as she secured the precious paper. She thrust it into her bosom. Over and over again she repeated the name ard address that Arlo Willis had written on the card. Floribel rarely went out of the wretched building where she had toiled so hard. It was a bitter cold night, and her ragged shoes and thin covering poorly kept at bay the flerce biting frost. Twice as she hurried along she felt as if she would sink to the ground, benumbed and overcome. Bravely, however, she fought her way against the wintry blast. She located the address given on the card, a great ornate mansion on a fashionable thor- oughfare. Floribel had just sufficient strength to totter up the steps and ring the doorbell, when her senses reeled and she sank to the cold marble step, unconscious. There she had been found by Mrs. Neal. Floribel awoke to find herself in a luxurious bed, a beautiful lady hovering over her. What loving grateful arms inclosed her, as she told her story—so simple in its naive re- cital, but meaning so much to the proud Willis family! And it was in silken attire, a trans- formed Floribel, that Arlo Willis saw the lovely ward of his sister the next day. Like one transported to a perfect paradise, the sweet little waif entered All life seemed it some royal Her bright ways, her gratitude, her beauty and then her fervent love ap- pealed to the great nature of Arlo Willis. The Jacobs people never saw her again, but society did. In all her bril- liant loveliness, loyal, unspoiled, radi- antly happy, the humble child of the lonely rag warehouse became the reigning bride of the season. What to Eat. Overeating is the primary sin of civ- ilized man. I fed one thousand men a day (the unemployed) in New York recently, on one meal a day, and they all stated they were never better nour- ished than on three meals of soup, white bread and coffee. These meals cost one cent each. The following articles contain every- thing the human body needs: Eggs, ik, cereals, fats, fruits. fresh vege- SURE ABOUT THE SUFFERING Small Boys, In Their Ideas of the Suf- ragette, Were Certain of One Thing, Anyway. To two little French-American boys belongs the credit of establishing new and logical definitions of woman | suffrage. The boys are Paul and Allan Ull- man, the little sons of Mr. and Mrs. ‘Eugene Paul Ullman, whose home is in Paris, and who have been spending a part of this winter in New York. The boys have heard much, of course, of suffrage and the militant move- ment, and the other day Paul, who is 5, turned to Alan, who is 6, and sald: “Do you know what a suffragette 18?” “Yes,” responded Alan, promptly, “I do. A suffragette is a lady that wants to have something to do with the government and the men won't let her and so she suffers. She suf- Ant's Remarkable Strength. ten times the weight of its own body, while a horse and a man can carry & burden only about equal to their own weight. | trom her window. “THE 1AL OPPOSITE By BEVERLY SLAUSON. (Copyright, 1915, by W. G. Chapman.) Travers was looking backward over | his life, as he sat, revolver in hand,\ before the mirror in the wyper room of his closed house, and it was strange how all the interests of the mature | man’s life narrowed to those of the boy of long ago. Pictures flashed across ais mental| vision, and he saw himself again, a | little boy, standing before that same window and holding bis father’s hand. ! “Why mustn't I play with the little | girl across the street?” he asked his | father. | But it was long before ne Iearned‘) that the man across the street was a famous atheist lecturer, and shunned in | horror by the narrow society of the ! little place, whose ostracism extended to the loyal wite and the little girl. Later the little boy had gone tol school, a boarding school in a distant 2 city. There the interests of school- days drove the thought of the little girl out of his mind. So completely, in fact, that, when he returned, he did not at first rec ognize the young girl of fourteen whose face he saw at the window opposite. “Who are those people across the road?” he asked his mother, ¥itk an interest whose cause he was careful to conceal. “The same,” she answered. “That {s Danvers, the abominable atheist lecturer, John, I hope that you will have nothing to do with any of them at any time.” Time passed. John Travers went to college. Now the whirl of life had caught him up, and only the most elusive nemories remained of the girl at the window. Yet, when he came home with his dejree, he found him YOU SEE THIS PICTURE? THIS IS NO FANCY, IT'S A FACT. YOU CAN'T GROW A TREE WITHOUT A RUOT; YOU CAN’T BUILD A HOUSE WITH- OUT A FOUNDATION; YOU CAN'T BUILD A FORTUNE WITH- OUT PUTTING MONEY INTO THE BANK TO GROW. AND IT IS MIGHTY COMFORTABLE TO HAVE AR FORTUNE WHEN YOU ARE OLD. START ONE NOW. BANK SOME OF YOUR EARNINGS. BANK WITH US. WE PRY 5 PER CENT INTEREST ON TIME DEPOSITS. American State Bank BE AN AMERICAN, ONE OF US.” gelf looking across the narrow street at a young wowan who wr¢ched him And tuis ume there was a look of recognition upon her face, though she made no sign of greeting, and neither spoke. Then John Travers went into the world of business. Elght years had passed, and he hed fought hard dur- ing those years. He had made a name for himself in the financial world; at thirty he was a rising power in the street. It was no wonder that hir enemies grew numerous as his power grew stronger. And as the years went by Travers pegan to realize that he was obtaining singularly little out of life. At thirty he seemed already an old man in ex- perience. Life brought him no hap piness. He d!1 not understand the cause of thit, out he realized that he had somehow missed something which all his wealtb could not supply. Then came the panic, and the fight for survival. Everybody was leagued against Travers to pull him down, For a whole week, during which time he hardly slept, John fought. Then the pack had him down, and his fortune, swollen to millions, crumbled to noth: {ng in a single day. So he had gone home to the little Lvillage, to the house which he had inherited after his parents’ death, but unever occupied. At last he had resolved to end it, to plunge out of the life that had brought him mnothing into one which could at least offer nothing wogse to him. And, after long thought, he had drawn from his pocket the revolver which he had always carried since the beginuing of his debacle. A knock at the door startled him, and he thrust the weapou away and opened the door. He gasped to see, before him, the girl at the window opposite. She came into the room :mpulsively. “Mr. Travers,” she begun, “I know you will resent this intrusion, but we are old neighbors. My name is Mar- jorie Danvers, and 1 often used to see you when we were children. I live opposite—I have lived there alone since my parents died two years ago. And I heard you were back and in trouble. “You know how people gossip in this little place. We heard you were alone here and had not left the house. We were all afraid some harm had come to you. So I went to the door and knocked, and when you did not answer I came up. Is there anything I can do for you?" Her eyes fell upon the revolver muzzle, protruding from the book case in which he had hidden it. She looked at it and at him wildly. “You were not-not ‘hinking ot that?” she cried. “Yes,” he answered. “I was. Bu! you have cured me now. Miss Dan vers, | have lived a selfish life, solely for' myself and I have had little pleas- ure out of it. But now I have come bome, and—and I want life to begin to mean something to me. Do you know how often | have thought of you?” “How strange!” sue sald. “I have thought so often of the little hoy 1 used te see and might never know. And to think that after these years but then you mu : let me help you, in any way I can And you must come out of this old house into the sunshine.” Perhaps soul spohe to soul in that moment, for snddenly she felt that they were bound by a stronger tie than the few words that had been uttered. “Yes,” said Travers, taking her by the hands. “I will come with you— now--into the sunshine.” —ee Curse of Idieness. Idleness 1s the badge of gentry, and the bane of body and mind, the’nurse of naughtiness, the stepmother of dis- cipline; the chief author of all mis- chief, one of the seven deadly sins, Flour! Flour! CHEAP & Now is the Time to Lay In a Supplv &2 Sacks Best Plain Flour Sacks Best Plain Flour Sacks Best Plain Flour Srlf-Rising Flour 6. TWEEDELL PHONE 59 98 Ib. 24 Ib. 12 Ib. 98 Ib. : f@@@mrmwflm = Saw Some Dust At the County Fair We hope you may also see some of our Do Doubt You saw-dust before the season is over; 1n other words we hope you will soon Get Busy on that Building vou have been talking about and that you will see us for Your Lumber and Material Lakeland Manufacturing Company PHONE 76 LAKELAND, FLA. Doing Her Share. Sarcastic Married Man. the cushion upcn which the devil chiefly reposes. For a Nonskid Stepladder. “It seems & pity, my dear Mrs. Gotham, that you New York soclety . “Yes,” sald the bachelor, with the Vashing jt. The cloth should be - conscious pride of sacrifice. “I make “Tung out and passed lightly over the ——— ed orth uotations. 't gl In ueng 8 bgh 1dder 00 NS | oy Tor e o come o you, |, S¥HD o1 Tiket O Mar, ) A T e floor we trie . h d you, | A man in ticket of ona b 2 = ! s e of placing nndernel!: ‘“r rgl‘:‘od!;: rd'leve tl:t;.y.\:::l' ‘;l. ::n‘::.u:or she day has to conceal his real feelings Cause of Waterfall's 'm'l a *m‘y d::rhln‘;:m}ril:‘ve:?&' lc:l.: :onnll::l,l mmmm l:ou |mm,‘mw.n.;. S To:Cuny My m:h" ";'“:o:;:;:n‘:;p:n both the | is enly half alive who STOWS U050 a:u::‘:h:‘h::te:;.';;;; on t.: B t 0: .b"‘_‘:"::l"‘au of mi} | tWo o'clock for three nights now play- forty days to :m:;nndn.d and u::. . Y .. re e . Wrap mustard plasters on bcnds |§"m "ad the ladder—Good House: :;le her instead of making life"— -lmu: S e oy 1ng charity bridge?'—Lite. Bl —ews Topes. *Tists, soles and palms, and allow P& ine. — keeping Magas