Lakeland Evening Telegram Newspaper, May 22, 1915, Page 7

N BY MOONLIGHT| on Beams That Made Path to Heaven. i gy ORA ANICE EASTMAN. | he strains of the waltz reached I as they eat in the shadow of the + veranda, with the June moon re- ed on the water, with youth in | ir hearts and the music of life in r veins. | ant to try it?” he asked, hoping would say she preferred the ver- | ia, the cool, sweet air and the 1; was afraid he would see how ch she did want to linger there | 4 him, so she jumped to her feet, | Diying laughingly: | 0f course, 1 can mnever resist & 1z and they made their way into | overcrowded ball room. The air ! < stale, the people hot and cross, | ¢ in epite of Tom’s good guiding, | ny was bumped more than once; ¢ they kept on until the last strains ed away, when they emerged breath- s and eager for their former seats. i “Like it here?” Tom asked at last, [t without taking his eyes from the | rbor for fear they would encoun- r that distracting dimple once re. B i course 1 do; it's lovely,” Amy | hispered, her voice seeming to be- ng to the place, the bour, the moon- pams and purling water. «A penny for your thoughts,” he roke in upon her musings, and for |, instant Amy was startled; then she | pid slowl | “] was thinking that the moon makes | ath to heaven, and wishing that | ht always stay good enough to | alk along it. Don’t you feel that| pay? i Tom gazed at her for a moment. “I! ess men don't stop to think about uch things,” he admitted. “Don’t they? Why?” | I don't know. 1 guess they leave | t to their wives.” But you have no wife,” Amy be- an. and then she blushed furiously. 1 will some day,” he said, decidedly, | d Amy felt her heart contract. Once “'m Not Brilliant, Amy, and Haven't Much Beside My Money.” more they were alone, and they could hear their own breathing. Suddenly| Tom awoke to the fact that the oth- ers were dancing and once more he asked: | “Want to try it?” but this time she let her heart decide, asking timidly: ‘Don't you think it pleasanter out! here? It'sso warm in there, and every-| one wants to dance just where we do, and all at the same time.” “You're right. I vote for here”| and Tom leaned back. He was nerv-| ous and longed for the help of & emoke. As they sat there the moon recched them, pouring out all her ra-, diance on Amy's golden head, turning| its strands into a strange, exquisite halo that was startlingly becoming. “Amy,” Tom gasped. | “Well?” she asked, softly, and Tom took the plunge. “I'm not brilliant, Amy, and I haven't much except my money. Of o e, there's plenty of that, but with one like you, I know it doesn't go far. I know I'm not worthy of you, but I've kept on hoping and hoping.” | Amy kept very still. The gentle Wash of the water sounded in her ears € a mighty roar. ve never shot up the town, or kill- | one, and till I met you I thought I was fairly decent, but now I know I uced to be better. 1f mother had, lived, I'd be better. I'm awfully lone-| )y, bonest. Mother was wonderfully | g00d, and you make me think of her, though she was dark like me. Your| voice sounds like hers. I'd try awfully | Lard to make you happy. When we ¥eie dancing I couldn't help noticing bow well our steps match. 1 was just -ring how it would be if we could ) on dancing together all our lives, n't really mean dancing, you know, | just being together. You under-| d, don't you? Tell me, Amy, 18] @ no hope for me?” he spoke he bent very near to 50 close that their faces nearly ed. He could smell the perfume of the roses she was wearing, and she the aroma of the eigar he had smoked | iust before calling for her, and its sub- ! tle suggestion of masculinity appeal- €d to her with,a sweet quiver of ex- Quisite pain, “Tell me, darling,” he whispered, his hand closing on her arm. The last strains of the furious two- To Cure Hysteria. mustard plasters on hands, soles and palms, and allow P& reat Penalty She Had to Pay. Irene’s mother is a woman of ad- vanced ideas. A few days ago Whed there came bad weather Irene went oL to a peighbor’s porch and looked tbrough the inviting window Where | Regzie was comfortably engage! | his playthings. “Why don’t you come | 7 I'm just having & dandy tme | ¥ith my Nose ark.” “No,” sobbedi Irene. “T'vg got to stay outside and be | bealthy.’ | first before I an | knew that she was de | rizon. | G00D MILK PROTECTS BABIES | the babies from milk-borne diseases | recreation plers. | increased {supply the milk in nursing bottles, \ October, 154,919; November, 142,88 e —— step were dying; in i ina m ver;mlh would be invaded e “Tell me, Amy; qulck""h H !” he d trying gently to bring her lncep‘:raouendd 80 that he could look into her eyes. “They will be out here in ju: minute; do let me know wlfllejv.'!et . alone,” he insisted. o Amy turned her h i ead, bringin, | mouth temptingly cloge to hlps. o ‘Youll have to tell me something swer,” she sai i but he could feel her uem%l’e‘,xh;nd . eply in earnest. | . Wh‘al Is it? Quick!" he cried, hsi: | rm stealing about her. “They are igmln;; tell me,” his voice now a ng:::(a;dit.wlm a man's deep feeling | “That you love me, stupld,” ! Quivered, then gave a hapb;' llfaz sigh as his lips crushed hers in nn‘ ardent, tender kiss, i “I kissed you vefore givin word of honor that I do lo\'ge i'oo:\ ll;i | waiting to find out if you love 'me you dear little silly.” he whispered rnp: | turously. “I wasn't going to lose; that chance. “Love you? Oh, dar-| ling, foolish littie girl! Love you? | Oh, 1 do! Don't you know it? and hli tender eyes sought and held bern.‘ Hush,” Amy pleaded, fearing lest | :oui? of her love story be ovorheardi y the gay, ca. s ¥d n ‘.em“d;fia reless crowd now on the “Who cares?" Tom asked, defiantly, but she caught his hand in hers whis: pering: ! “I do; this is ours only; no one else has any right to a bit of it," and he began to understand how much she did love him. “You precious little thing," be said brokenly, turning so as to shield her from the curious glances of any who might look; “and our love will always be just our own, won't it? But, Amy, you'll have to teach me how to walk that moonlight path with you,” and he nodded towards the shining light which seemed to disappear into the ho- The girl gave a happy little sigh of content as she replied: “1 rather think, Tom, that when two people love each other, they can keep together in any path,” and then he kissed her again, for once more they were alone in the moonlight, the oth- ers having gone in to dance. (Copyright, 1912, by W. G. Chapman.) Accounting of Twenty-first Year of the Nathan Straus Depots in New York. Nathan Straus's work of protecting has completed its twenty-first year with a record of only one death in the last summer among the 2200 babies that have been supplied with milk modified and pasteurized at the seven- teen depots. The one death was caused by pneumonia. During the year 2,193,664 bottles of milk were supplied and 1,226,100 glz es of milk were served at the sum- mer stations in the parks and on the While the number of infant milk depots in the city has to nearly a hundred the Straus stations are the only ones that first modified, then pasteurized in the bottles. It is to this fact that Mr. Straus attributes the remarkable rec- ord of the last summer. The output by months was as fol- lows: September, 166,649 bottles; December, 161,475; January, 164,78 February,169,611; March, 197,084; April, 197,646; May, 206,875; June, 213,203; July, 214,672; August, 202,789; total, 2,193,68 In the twenty-one years of this work more than 83,000,000 bottles of pas- teurized milk have been supplied for the babies and over 17,000,000 glasses of milk have been served at the depots. In the first year 34.000 bottles were supplied. The records do not include barley water, of which no account is kept. At all the depots free medical at- tendance is supplied when desired, with instructions for the mothers. e Books of Ancient Rome. i It has been pointed out that in old | Rome books were actually produced and sold more easily and quickly than they are in modern times. With his trained staff of readers and transerib- | ers, it i contended, an anclent Reman | pupblisher could turn out an edition | of any work at very cheap rates, and almost 2 moment’s notice. There was, of course, no initial expense of type setting before a single copy could be} produced, no costly extras in the form | of printer's corrections. The munu-‘ seript came from the author; the pub- t to his elaves, and it| isher handed 1 the book were of ordinary dimen the complete edition could, it is & be ready, if necessary, Within hours, sl The old Roman libraries were im-| mense as well as splendid l']lmuf'h | says that the library of Lucullus, who{ expended much of his monmey on lv:gk ‘had walks, galleries, and cab-| inets open to all visitors.” It wag [.‘.'0- posed by Juliug Caesar to open m"u‘ library to the public—Harper's weekly. it High Prices in London. Paris is well enough in its way, in its admiration for rare artistic fab- rics, but to get the money out of them they must needs be aol_d in London. At a sale in that city 1o the m:glh of July & bit of tapestry brought :.10 a square foot—that's abfml $1,0560— and more recently a Persian rug eight feet by five feet fiv nches was solfl for £5,2350 or $2 This was 4; eilk rug with & quuwr!m! green mneh in the center, on & pink ground Wwith a green border and pink edge. Expensive Wood. Ona of the axpensive woods | used regularly sstablished in- dustry in the woou, the T carving cente a enb by the mwost nited States is box- material tor wood n quoted at fou wnd about $1.300 ) poard feet o | R P markable Strength. A:-A;:t‘:;; carry a grain of cc:jrn ten times the weight of its own bo y.. while a horse and 3 ma‘n can w'ry“ burden only about equal to their o' weight. | soot |fay has to conceal Telltale FingerPrnts By Walter Joseph Delaney &E (Copyright, 1915, by W. G. Chapman.) i The Stevensons were rich and un- happy. Their next-door neighbors, the Martins, were desperately poor, vet life was to them a radiant dream. | The Stevensons lived in a big ten- room house, luxuriously furnished, and had lots of money. David Martin toiled as a laborer at a town iron mill, and his frugal wife counted over ev- ery penny twice before it was invest ed, thus close they were forced to live. But the Martins had a treasure— Vinnie, their adopted niece—and her presence made the humble home glow with sunshine and laughter whenever she was within its precints. She worked at a store in the village as cashier, but home talent was paid for cheaply, and her contribution to the household fund was quite small. “Not very genial neighbors, those Stevensons,” observed Mr. Martin coming home from his work one cold Cecember eveniug. “I fancy they don't consider us their kind,” returned his plain, practical wife. “Mrs, Stevenson has nodded to me once or twice, but only at a dis- tance, and then quite sourly.” “Stevenson himself came out of the gate of his house just as I passed,” continued Mr. Martin. “I spoke, but be didn’t answer me, although I think he really was so abstracted in thought that he didn't know me.” “l think you are quite right, fa- ther,” added Vinnie, in her kindly, charitable way. “I have heard that they have a great sorrow—a runaway gon. He left them after some trouble he got into three years ago. A year gince, I have heard, they learned that he was one of a number killed in a cyclone in New Mexico.” “Oh, dear, that is sad!” spoke up Mrs. Martin, quick!y and sorrowfully “They have their cross to bear, indeed —a lost gon, a lonely home,” and ghe came up to Vinnie and enfolded her in a loving clagp and kissed her tender- ty. An unhappy home, indeed, was that of the Stevensons. They had lost their only child, a bright, promising lad, who, when he came of age, had 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 sadly disappointed his parents. In a fight in a gambling resort, he, an onlooker only, had pald the penalty for being in such a place by receiving a bullet wound that stripped off the top of three of the first fingers of his left hand. This seemed to te ach him a lesson for a time. Then he fell from grace again. He drifted the company of a desperate burglar. Innocently Warren was involved in a | case where a man was killed. He played the part of the craven and be- came a u Within a year the real mur- derer died in prison shouldering the entire responsibility for the crime and completely exonerating Warren lis parents had then sought for him everywhere, but their quest had proved unavailing The news of his death in the cyclone was the final that broke their hearts Be- broken down by sorrow and marvel was it that they be- isolated and uncom- grief reaved, regret, no came cynical, panionable. One evening a neighbor came into the heme of Mr. Martin on a brief call. In the course of conversation | he brought up the subject of the vnso- | ial neighbor, with the remark: “Friend of mine told me that this Stevenson objects mightily to vour burning soft coal, Martin.” < that so?" queried Mr. Mar- eurprisedly “Yes, he says that whenever the | wind is from the north it blows the in regular flakes against his JESS————— straln on Ticket Office Man. A man in the ticket office on a busy his rea! feelings o much that he gets to be a better r |actor than some of the pecple on the |stege. —e Curse of Idleness. Idleness is the baage of gentry, and the bane of body and mind, the nurse of naughtiness, the stepmother of dis- | cipline; the chief author of all mis- chiet, one of the seven deadly sins, the cushion upen which the devil chiefly reposes. into | wanderer and a fugitive from | house. It's just been painted white, and it's spoiling it. Of course, you can't help that. You're hardly able to afford anthracite at ten dollars a | ton, eh?" | i “Maybe not,” responded Martin, se- riously, “but I can be just, even if it 4 | costs me something. of it before.” | When he came to look at the side of the Stevenson house, Martin saw that | the soot had, indeed, marred and de- | faced it. Especially up under the' eaves, the clapboards were grimed with feathers of soot. Acting on &/ generous impulse, he hailed his neigh- bor, who just happened to be coming into the house. | “I say, Stevenson,” spoke the blunt, | honest fellow, “I've just found out that my soft coal is hurting your| property. 1 shall use coke through the rest of the winter, and first holi- day T'll get a ladder and give the | eide of the house a good scrubbing.” | “Why—thank vou—I must say | vou're thoughtful and kind—yes, thank you," and Stevenson acted as though this tnusual courtesy of a | stranger fairly overcame him Refore the opportunity to remedy things came about, however, some | startling events transpired One morn- ineg Martin came out into the yard 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 | netghbor in a bewildered sort of a| { way. “The room the burglar got into | is the one my poor dead son occupied. | 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,” cbserved Martin | thoughtfully, and he went up the lad- der a step or two. “Why, say, Mr. Stevenson,” he called down to his neighbor, “here is something queer.” ! “What {8 that?" was asked. “In getting into the window the burglar has left some hand marks | around its frame.” “Why, ves—I can see it from here,< replied the owner of the dospnllt\di home. | “Right among that troublesome black soot of mine,” continued Martin, rather apologetically. “And say—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 is the matter?” Quickly the speaker descended the ladder. With a sharp cry of enlight- enment, Mr. Stevenson had started back “Three chort 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 eeeking his wife, and leaving the stupcfied 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 stclen back home, poor, homeless, fll. 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. Tt wns 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 foft coal,” the de- lighted Stevengon had told hi8 neigh- bor. And a true nelghbor he made of him, and naturally Warren Stevenson met Vinnie. Cleser and closer grew the ties of true neighborliness, and of love, and then the natural seyuence | 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 s 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 Enxllsh: | paper. Tusks imported from Siam con- | stitute the raw material. These are | first cut by a saw into shapes that are | | guitable for the carvers to work on. | The cutting appa us consists 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 er and cuts it to the desired thick- nes After the cutting is finished, the | workmen carve the pieces into shape | with knives of many different kinds | Ail of them, however, have shoft | blades and long handles made of bam- | boo. The carvers also use saws made {of wire and a gimlct worked by a | twirling apparatus of leather. There are 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 g¢ nerally works in | his own h and can earn about | a week in Canton cur-| 1's Companion! I never thought More Pressing Needs. ‘T need shoes.” “Then why don't you buy some?" “It is evident that you know nothing ' of family life. My graphophone needs records and my wife needs dancing lessons.” { ——inn. Best to Earn One’s Own. | Persons industriously occupying | themseives thrive better on a little of | their own honest getting than lazy | heirs on the large revenues left unto them.—T. Fuller. —nn : Daily Thought. | Much of the charm of life is ruined by exacting demands of confidence. .. . Those who wish to destrey all mystery in those they love. to have | would siug | around lcvern.h:nx revealed, are unconscious- |1y killing their own happiness.—Stop- ford Brooke. MUSIC'S GREAT CHARM By CEORGE ELMER COBB. . eeoccuceece When Roc tle Westl the quiet, u deceased u posted vp i four work It wi ner Phail inherited the lit- that had been one order in all of the s of the plant. t does he me anyhow?” growled welimeaning Dodson, th ter gystoe lop aloug the riv- er? ‘Swezr vould suit me better wher a m breaks down.” “N : vice would be good for you, t suggested his al ant. “It dee do the youngsters much good to you rip it off when you're riled, Bel other day, however, all han o plant understood the situ- ation ¢ 7The new proprietor ar- rived—a ther serious-faced young man, but with a v light in his eyes aud a gentle, sympathetic voice that attracied the eighty odd employes. The f thing Rodney Phail did was to call all hands into the main rest rcom and make them a speech. He told them that be felt something more than mere enrichment in being the favored owner of th siness—a sense of great responsibility. The same conscrvative business methods would be followed. Old and deserving employes would be retained. His great wish, however, was to make of them a ha family. He intended to build a club house for them, where mu- slc, lectures and entertainments could be held to break the monotony of their lives. There would be a good library and a gymnasium. These faithful workmen had borne sravely the brunt of the industrial battle. They should ghare in the prosperity of the business. Each year twenty-five per cent of the profits of the concern should be dis tributed equally among the employes. Of course there was rare apprecla tion evinced at the mention of this lib eral donation. Then Mr. Phall said: “I have put up a sign reading, ‘Sing.’ 1 want to explain about that. For ten yoars my life has been gpent on a Jone Iy ranch, toking care as custodian of » plece of property in liti on belong ing to my uncle, The solitude, the eve ning weariness after an uneventful day, the uneventful existence fast made of me an unsociable hermit. There was no sweetness in my life. Then, one day, » wonderful bird took up its home jusi above my cabin door. 1t sang from morning until night. It filled the air with rare, beautiful mu- sic, and my soul witu delight., When 1t flew away to sunnier climes with the appronch of winter I missed it greats ly. Then a new idea came to me: 1 wyself. My friends, ¥ do not how his companion of musie cheered and refined me This vax the text, and fuvther upon the subiret “the new boes” brietly descaiit:d. He showed them how, es. pecicdly in the work rooms where the assembling of the plant was done at tong tables, the hours could be enliv- ened by he vocal organs exer- clsed and rli a, poetry and good cheer eugendered. There wus 50 much promise to the plan, the girls espocielly so eagerly re. sponded to the music suggestion, that Rodney decided to go a step further He advertsed ir a near eity newspa per for a cultured jady to undertake an orderly «c onal snperintendency oi a group of sixty young factory girls. One espr clully neat, terge and com prehens’ reply from a Miss Mabel Durant pleased hit. A week later the young lady in guesticn arrived upon the sceue with her aged mother. Rod- wey had a neatly furnished cottage near the works all ready for them. For the first time in his life a woman's face attractod Lim inanew way, With in a week he wus ardent in his appro- bation of the s 'm pursued by the quiet, re‘ined young i who entered with zcat into taking churge of the girl workers. Rodney leit all the det of man- agement and traning to Miss Durant. e hoad g oty of her suc- cegs, be did not wondir when he met her d:ily thit she hed wound hercelt of the girls. Then one day his whoe boing thrilied as he paused in his vork to listen to & touch ing bullud she was singing in the work room. It was in ihe rear work room on the fourth ficor of 1he plant, but every note was bo to hig wistful hearing 1 cloar § b jurring crash sbut out the mellow hermeny that g0 charmed wim. he turned o view s greo up- ed stone building Lshes were stored. itiera was a bias flame. The main building had cought In an instant dense clouds of siusha rolled upwards “Fire!” The direful shout, and re peated, rect the air The e wus & rush from the building. A chill struck the heart of the anxions Rodney us he thourht of the giris on the fourth floor. “Those narrow stairs he pasped, and then, thirty voices strong, there came to his ears the steady, rising notes of a #oi accompanying the footsteps, as clearly timed as though w company of trained soldiers was on the march. And so, in splendid order, the last one of the girls got safely out of the huilding. The structure was destroyed, hut soon to be rebuilt But not until Rodney Phail had won 1 loving bride who had sung her gen Je way into his heart of hearts. (Copyright, 1914, by W. G. Chapman) > loreman, tieaval of an is where explosive 1 echoed Roumanians Fond of Drees. The men of Roumania are very fond of dress, and they have a popular say- ing which runs, “The gtomach has no mirror.” Its meaning is that rather than be shabby a Roumanian should go hungry. The peasant costume of Roumania is very artistic, every vil- lage having its own set of colors. By the hue of his dress & peasant shows the locality he huils from. Cause of Waterfall's Roar. The roar of a waterfall is produced almost entirely by the bursting of mil- ione of alr bubbles. YOU SEE THIS PICTURE? THIS 1S 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 ITIS MIGHTY COMFORTABLE TO HAVE AR FORTUNE WHEN YOU ARE OLD. START ONE NOW. BANK SOME OF YOUR EARNINGS. BANK WITH US. \WE PAY 5 PER CENT INTEREST ON TIME DEPOSITS. American State Bonk BE AN AMERICAN, ONE OF US.” it SPECIAL SALE ON FLOUR While the present Stock lasts we will name the following prices for SPOT CASH. WE NEED THE MONEY 12 Ib. Ideal Plain Flour - 45c 24 Ib. Ideal Plain Elour - 90c 98 ib. Ideal Plain Flcur - $3.50 98 1b. velf-Rising Flour - 4.00 About 100 Barrels at these prices. Get your supply at once. Other Geods at a Bargain E. 6. TWLEDELL FHONE 59 F Freaeian Do Doubt You Saw Some Dust At the County Fair We hope von may also see some of our the other words we hope you will soon Get Busy on that Building you have been talking about and that you ST o S VR RIS = ciw-dust before SanA . R ageEs N 7o T will see us for T Your Lumber and Material TRITRTLe /88 Lakeland Manufacturing Company PHONE 76 LAKELAND, FLA. T3/ W L Doing Her Share. i Sarcastic Married Man. “It seems a pity, my dear Mrs. | “Yes,” said the bachelor, with the Gotham, that you New York soclety | conscious pride of sacrifice. “I make women 7on't give up more of your | a point of giving up certain pleasures ! time to raising mwoney for the poor.” | during Lent.” ‘Huh!" snorted the |"My dear Marjorie, how can you say | married man. “You bachelors have & i such a thing? Haven't I sat up until | cinch on (hat sort of thing. What are two o'clock for three nights now play- | forty days to three hundred and sixty- ing charity bridze?’—Life. fAive?"—Town Topics. s