New Britain Herald Newspaper, June 10, 1927, Page 24

Love’s Embers Adele Garrison’s Absorbing Sequel to “Revelations of a Wife” Beginning a New Seri The Young Man With the Wolf |upon the young man with the wolf- Hound Absorbs Madge's Attention. |hound. And the little procossion had I felt very much as if I had a|hardly entered the train shed before tront seat at a play as from behind | my odd neighbor, with a furtive, al- the huge folds of my Sunday news- | most catlike air investing his move- paper I peered at the red-bearded | ments, rose to his feet and followed man sitting on the bench near the|them through. gate leading to the Montauk-bound | \ith my excitement and my se train. There was even something|os the dramatic steadily mounting, theatrical in the pose of the man as | resolved to sit where I was until he ’P““";fl ;“hh“l“’]‘:;: i”:""“ | the gates should clang upon the out- ness on the bench, although to me | ary hound train. 1 wante as- he looked like nothing 85 much a3 a |qure myeelr (hat Ty ‘:zd(-iln::on;‘r:!‘ monstrous red spider watching for | man really had gone upon it, That some unwary fly to stray near him. |inowioige would confirm my sus- AN fhuing gl ”‘dd ";“"!‘m:";:;‘;-mun. almost conviction, that he TIOPL JQONSUCUQUS, &1 | had been waiting for the sole pur- that numerous curious glances were | poc o WEUTS Fr (00 KR PETS being sent toward him by the pas-|young man with the wolfhound ngers gathered for the eastern-is-|ywould board the outward-bound lznimain | train. He must have expected that he But he was as Indifferent to eurl- |\ ou1q and had come up to the city ous glances as I felt that hie would | (o’ ¢ the young man back again, have been to condemnatory ones had et from his stealthy actions I was any been sent In his divection. He | that the youth with the dog had had but one patent purpose—intent ,,; quqpicion that he was being fol- watchtulness, and he was carryiig |joweq and knew nothing of the red- st g A SR Gl pro. beaided man, at least in Lis present oR/past o Imoe - | disguise. 2;“‘:‘1:,!“;12‘;;“;520‘l";:;‘g,:‘f”:‘ A thrill of pleasurable excitement giimpse of it. The young man whose S0t through me. It alw aye comea magnificent wolthound had lunged |When some mysterious, absorbing against me was moving rapldly l"““t‘;‘\ x'r“nvmf itself to me. It toward the gate of the eastern island | Vas the reason for my keen enjoy- train, his body bent s that both | MeNt of the work I did under Lillian hands tightly grasped the collar of |in the Secret Service during the) {he animal. Behind him two train | World War. As I settled Luck to wait porters carried enough smart, if ({0 the departure of the train, I fomewhat worn luggage to outfit a |told mysclf scathingly that I had no halt dozen ordinary American young |UEht to laught at Katis for her inen going out of the city for a vaca- | scenario soul” I possessed one tion. That this was his purpose I|ridiculously akin to it. inferred from the well-fillad golf bag | I did not permit my eclf-flagella- | and the tennis racquet which | tion, however, to keep miy specula- formed part of the load that one|tions from following the ill-assorted porter had tucked around his person : pair who were about to fmvel upon In the mysterious and efficient man- | the same train to the eas: end of the ner known only to his craft. |island. Two men more unlike, far- ‘or a second, in the picturesque ther apart soclally, than the uncouth .assing of the colorful youth, I al- |red-bearded man and the dappt‘ri 110st forgot to watch the red-bearded |youth with the wolthound could not man, whose odd actions had so puz- | be imagined. : zled me. When my eyes turned| “Dapper?” T took bacik the word back to him it was to find that I|although in a way it described the} needed a new metaphor to describe |young man. But I felt that I must | him. He was no longer a watchtul |cast about for some mora dignified spider, but rather like a catamount werd to describe the tall young man gathering himself for a spring. He | who had just disappearad into the had drawn himself compactly to-|train shed. i gether,’ and his eyes beneath their | (Copyright. 1927, Newspnper Fea- queerly drooping lids were fixed | ture Service, Inc.) se | Sammy Jay Sees the Stranger BY THORNTON W. BURGESS 1f you will peek and you will pi You soon will earn the name of spy. —Peter Rabbit. Sammy Jay was more excited than he had been in all his life before. He felt like screaming every minute and he didn’t scream at all. Perhaps he thought that the hunters who | were pushing their way through the | Green Forest in a long line were making noise enough. Anyway, he | kept his tongue still and flew silent- | ly ahead of them. Never in his life had he seen so many frightened people excepting when the Red Ter- | ror had driven feathered and furred | folk before it. * | Somehow to Sammy it didn't seem true. Nothing at all like it had ever | happened hefore and it was hard | Cvidently he didn't like that snarl | work to believe that it was happen- |inside. Evidently, too, he wasn't ing now. But the thing that Wwas | acquainted with this ledge, for he| hardest of all to understand Wwas | hounded to the place where Buster | what it was all about. Sammy was | Bear had made his winter retreat, | still puzzling over this as he drew |and this was a very shallow cave. | near to the ledge beneath which Bus- | It wouldn't do at all for a hiding | ter Bear had spent more than one |place at this time of year. The winter. Just as ho came within sight | stranger bounded out. Then he | of this ledgo his sharp eyes caught | saw another opening hetween the | sight of something moving. It was |rocks and he bounded into this. | slinking along under the low-growing ‘ There was another cave here. He | branches-of some of the trees near | could get completely out of sight. | there. ~ At first Sammy couldn't |Sammy watched him disappear. make out what it was. ‘All he could | (Copyright, 1927, by T. V. Burgess) | see was & moving spot now and | Vidy H then. Then out into plain view leap- | ed a stranger who was 5o very much | of a stranger that in his surprise Sammy nearly lost his grip on the branch on which he had just alight- ed. Yes, sir, he almost fell from sheer surprise. “He's Afraid of Those Hunters," Thought Sammy TREE-TOP STORIES family. There was no doubt about | BEE-MUSIC that. But Sammy had never heard of such & cat. Iis coat was of a| MA:;"?‘:‘""E fi:h “;;I‘l't'l': vellowish color covered with black | fairies in her head began to listen spots. Ho was very handsome as | and feel and scamper about after he stood there looking back toward their yost, the hunters and showing all his! The first thing they heard was teeth In an ugly snarl, while his a tiny music outside the window. tail twitched as only a cat's tail can “Who can that be?" said Mar- He was 80 handsome that Sammy Jorie's Fairies. They sent a mes- drew a long breath and was just on sage to the Seeing-fairies to find the point of telling him how hand- | out who could be making such some he was when he remembered sweet music so early in the morn- that he hadn't been introduced ing. Such bashfulness is not at all usual | ‘Why! The bees are singing their Honey-song to the Holl i with Sammy Jay. | . Very handsome was the stranger hocks!” ~ whispered Marjorie’s seeing Fairi 12 stood on a ledge of rock where e ; asho.eto “And they sang me awake with the sun ehone fully on him. The 4 Ang hlack spots were velvety; the yel- | their Bee-music,” laughed Mar. jorie. tow bhackground of his fur coat| cecmed to fairly glow in the sun | ond made the hlack spots stand out. | Rig and strong and savage looking was the stranger. But Sammy's keen ) saw that in the eyes of anger fear lurked. He's afraid of these hunters” thought Sammy. At this a new idea | came to Sammy. His eves opened very wide. “I do believe,” said he to himself, “that it is hecanse of | that fellow over there that all those | hunters are in the Green Forest. I helieve they have come to hunt him and not to hunt any of the little people who live here. Yes, sir, T believe that is just the answer. T wonder shere that fellow will e Tha stranger bounded lightly to | tha entrance to a sort of cave in the | cdge of rocks. Sammy heard a| from inside that cave. He right away who was in/ the | Your Radio Deserves . 7 unmny a1 RADIO / TUBES the Bohcat, and in this he | rather know that My NLUSTRATED AND WHAT HAS HAPPE Both Anne T who is the Tracys' milkman, object to the engagement of Phillip Wynne Tracy 1V and Natlee Jones, ED: Phillip's mother plans to interest | | her son in other girls and decides to give him a party. She tells him about the impeding visit of her old triend, Mrs. Hilliard, and uncon- sciously arouses his interest in the woman. He goes to the depot to meet her and tales her to luncheon. Shortly he finds he has fallen in love {at first sight and wishes Natlee were not coming to the party. After their first kiss, Phillip only lives to be near Lyra. At the party Natlee overhears Phillip making love to Mrs. Hilliard and breaks her engagement. She refuses to be even friends and tells | Rodney Maxwell all about it. Rod- rey comforts Natlce by telling her that he loves her and will smash Phil's face, but she begs him to for- |image of the American soldier as|be as safe as any one could be in give Phil and stay friends with him through everything. On a midnight fesses her love for Dhillip. The next day Phillip tells his mother that he is not going to col- lege and sends Lyra a very passion- ate love poem which his mother finds. Lyra and Mrs. Tracy have it out. Lyra tells Anne she is not too old for romance. The whole affair, however, sinks into nothingness be- cause war is declared. Here the story further unfolds— 1o Lyra con- . CHAPTER XX PHILLIP SPS UP THE TRADITION It did not strilke Anne Tracy that she was sacrilegious in her praver. She was only a very human mother with human fmpulses. The impulse first to save her boy from the devastating wiles of a woman who would make his life & living heli-—and second—to in some way make the war god think it was to him she was giving her only son that he might set her boy apart and bid death to pass him by Her head was pounding—she could not breathe—but at last, in a torrent of sobs and tears, she con- fessed to herself that Phillip was d out there,on the fields of France than realize that when choose between her and Lyra he would choose Lyra. She lifted her head ominous noise of already war-crazed men a young voice was raised high over the crowd. “Rod—oh Rod-—-come on — you know we promised to sign up to- gether.” “All right, you.” Anne Tracy rushed to the window and looked out on the street, Through the gate of the house next door came the stolid form of Rodney Maxwell. As he reached the car and swung himself in beside the boy at the wheel, he threw his arm around Phil's shoulder. “All right, Buddy g0.” Wynne—I am with " he sald, “let's Sharply the shining blue roadster | turned and drove away. VRIGHTED BY JOHNSON FEATURES INC. she would | asked to | Above the | Sons Sueethearts | Anne Tracy drew back quickly as | ° cy and Mr. Jones,!lhe dread thought struck her. She |which told her yes. “We are both | had not for a moment thought that ‘x'n » would enlist without first te She ri and thry Lhillip!" | He did enot hear her, for shed back to the window v it up calllng, “Phillip! was racing down the street to the first recruiting station. | When she ized that he had for- ten her—that even now her an- | guish meant nothing to him, she | felt her breath come faint. Some time afterward her faithful | | Nonnic found her underneath the | open window, prone on the floor. |, Lyra Hiliard, from Ler window, | had witnessed the litle drama and her heart also missed a beat as calized that she, 100, was forgotten |in this great thrill that made Phillip | Wynne Tracy 1V look the very standing straight up in the roadster, I his uncovercd head bared to the |breeze that lifted his dark brown | bair, he drove down the avenue shouting, “Come on, boys—come on! | America is at last going in, and we Ihave to follow the flag!" The atternoon papers made much Vo this incident, for the greatest | weapon of all was already on the tiring line. War propagapda—thrilling ap- timation that only those who were yellow would stay behind. | As usual, it was Phillip who im- pulsively and unthinkingly forged {ahead through the ruck of men about the street, cheering, triumphant. It was only within the closed doors of homes all over the land that white tearless women moved unhecding of the country's jubilee. Across the road from the Jones |house a little figure was pressed |against the old elm tree. So closely |did the girl hug its rugged trunk [ that in her gray coat she looked like |a part o | er arms ontstretched above her {head were clutching, tearing at its | bark Every fow minutes a sharp ex- ! clamation would perhaps call the at- tention of some one of the excited v but even he would hard- > that it was the clinging to in anguish who spoke. doesn’t Iod come?” It was fican that even in this or lee Jones was de- pending on Rod and not upon Phil- | lip. Natlee knew that the excitement and thrill of declared war had brushed every other thought out of | Phillip’s mind. But she also was 'sure that Rod would remember her ¢ would not leave her for long | without some wor | 1t scemed hours, but in reality the time was very short, before Rod was gently taking Natlee's arms down from above her head against the tree, Then burst into wild, dry sobs. that shook her whole frame, “Rod—Phillip's going?" | The very way she put her ques- |tion showed that she expected no She "Red, you are <o good to me." e —— e S, with | | honking horn and open cut-out he | peals {0 one’s patriotism and the in- | ! which he knew was from her. IDA_McGLONE GIBSON ‘mher answer than the bowing head going, Natlee.” With the unconscious cruelty of a woman who is passionately in |love with one man and knows that | the other is in love with her, she ex- |claimed: “Oh, 1 am so glad.” For a moment the man beside her grew white and leaned against the tree, tlee hurried on: “I was going | to ask you, Rod, dear, to go with | Phillip, but I was afraid that you still might be angry with him, I might have known that like the good friend you are, you would have thought of nothing except to be with |him when danger came. | “You will take care of him, will |you not? You know how thought- less and impulsive he is. He would |run into danger for the sheer thrill |or it. But you will be with him,| | Rod, and now I know that he will | that awtul hell. | “Rod, you are so good to me.” | Rodney wondered grimly if she | realized what she was doing to him. | For a moment he was quite con- | temptuous of his weakness, for he |had no illusions. Natlee Jones had sacrificed him all his life for Wynne |and now she was sending him prob- |ably to his death without a qualm XI,ve(t;\\lsfl she thought he might save { her lover from casual danger. Then another thought struck her. | 'Why, it never occurred to me that neither Phil nor you arg old enough to go. How did ‘you get in, Rod?" | Natlee asked, a gleam of new cour- age coming into her eyes. “I hope vyou did not lie about your ages.” No—Wynne is going to get his | mother's consent.” “She will not give it. Surely, Rod, she cannot give it. Why, Phillip s her only child.” “Wynne thinks she will consent, | for she knows he is the only one ih |the family that can keep up that | tradition that whenever the Ameri- |can flag goes into battle there will |be a Tracy following it.” “i don't believe that will make any difterence with her.” Then, as| |an afterthought: “What about you, | Rod? Why, you, Yourself, are only a little over 17. “Oh, I have no one to ask. You know, Natlee, that in my house there lis no one but an old housekecper | who wil care whether 1 go or stay, {and my guardian will give his con [ sent if T ask it. Yes, 1 am slated for | | France, for the only person in the world who might have sald ‘stay’ | has said, “Oh, I am so glad you are |going.” For the first time in her life Nat- |1ee Jones heard a bitter note in Rod- | ney Maxwell's voice. | Immediately her heart was filled | with selt-reproach. “Rod, dear, you know that I did not think of what 1 | was saying. You know in my sclfish- ness 1 was only thinking of Wynne ‘over there all alone and knowing |that I would gladly go with him and | share his hardships and danger it I | could. T thought of you as myself, ‘,deur, willing to do the same. “But I am sure that all our wor- rying is needless. I am certain that | Mrs. Tracy will not give her consent .to Wynae's enlisting. I am going lover there to have her tell me that innd then Il go down to your guardian’s office and post him so {that he will withhold his consent to | your going.” | I would rather you would not do | that, Natlee, for whether Wynne | goes or not, I am going.” |~ Natlee threw her arms around Rod's neck and burst into a torrent !ot tears. “Dear, dear, Rod—have 1 hurt you beyond healing For answer Rodney Maxwell's | |cheek was laid caressingly on her | pale gold hair. When he reached his home Phil- {lip expected to see Lyra immediate- |Iy. Instead, he was handed a note | At the same time his called, “Come here {my son.” | He didn't know what to do. He | knew that Lyra had given that let- ter to the maid to be given to him | before he saw his mother and yet, of course, his mother expected him [to go to her immediately. Finally he hastily thrust the let- | ter into his pocket and turned to his | mother's room. | “Mother, I have joined the army He hurried forward to catch her, for he was afraid she was going to | fall. But the feel ot his arms about her scemed to strengthen her. He | Bently seated her in an easy chalr and knelt at her side, both arms still around her waist. “Oh, I can’t let you go, Phil—T |can’t let you go. What made you think that your mother could send | you away to die?” “Do you mean that you will not give your consent, Mother? “I thought 1 could. Son, when Y | heard that war was declared this morning, but now I find I can't do it. While you might not die but once, [T would die a thousand time. | But, Mother, my father came back | from the Spanish war and my | grandfather came back from the {war between the North and the mother to my room, Merely Margy, An Awfully ch;et Girl | farewell was | mother and son knew that now, not —_— circumstances, it is . e CHAPTER XXI MRS. TRACY'S FIRST GRAY HAIRS “You see, mother dear, I could not be the last Tracy and welch on It I had not enlisted I be able to look my grandchildren in the face.” In spite of her grief Anne Tracy smiled. il All that morning Phillip had pro- claimed that he was not a marrying man and now he was looking for- ward to carrying on the line and name of Tracy. Her trembling hand was laid upon the rough brown hair ifl benediction. “If you feel that way about it, my son, go, and God go with you,” she said, in a voice that was a prayer. “Oh Rodney is going with me, mother.” “I am glad of that, Phillip. Poor Rodney Maxwell—everyone scemed glad that he was going to war. It was a good thing that he had not heard this *gladness” volced the second time, as the first time he heard it it scemed to him that his cup of unhappiness was running over. Part of Rodney Maxwell's slow- | ness of speech and action was be- cause he had always craved the love of relatives and friends. He always wanted to do something that would make someone happy—he wanted people to like him. His father and mother had both died when he was too small to realize his loss. Only the most distant relatives were left behind. These knew that he had money enough to care for himself luxuriously and because of that con- sidered they had no résponsibility in regard to the lonely child and lonelier youth. It was always his fate to give more than was given to him. His love for Phillip was received as a matter of course by him, who, however, always depended upon Rod to help him out of any scrape he might get into. Rodney knew that Natlee Jones loved Phillip, but unconfessed even | to himself his heart was always say- | ing that Wynne might fall in love with someone else and then Natlee might let him comfort her. After his last talk with Natlee, however, where he saw that she would never love any one but ‘Wynne, Rodney hoped hewould be lucky enough never to come back. “I must go and tell Rod, mother, and you must arrange to go down to the recruiting station and sign your consent to let me go."” Phillip Wynne Tracy 1V got up {from beside his mother's chair and tenderly raising her to him he look- | eddown into her eyes. The anguish he saw there made him a little ashamed of his affair with Lyra Hil- liard. “Mother,' 'he sald, brokenly, "if I come back Il be a better son to you than I have been. Darling mother, you must always remember that whenever I have hurt you it was no§ because I intended to, it was because T forgot. If I had stopped to- 0 He hesitated. He could not at this sacred moment lie to his mother. He knew that however much he would have stopped to think he would have gone to Lyra Hilllard, He must get away and read that note. It was fairly burning his pocket. He must make arrangements to leave as soon as possible. He dmred his cheek down upon the top of his mother's head and in doing e was surprised to sce here and there among her black braids a thread of white. . Perhaps for the first time in his life he told himself that his mother was too young to have this sign of age or sorrow. Would his life have been changed if she had given her love as she had a perfect right to do—to some otlier man? He didn't want to think of it—his mother was only “Mother” to him—she was not a woman with human desire for the tenderness and love which she had never had. Ior a single instant he contrasted her with Lyra Hilliard and was horri- fied. He kissed her forehead and then her tear-filled eves as he silently asked to be forgiven for all the sor- row he had caused her. As though she could stand no more, Anne gently pushed her son away. This was good-bye—how many more times they would say those dread words it mattered not—today was the real break—today the real being said. Both | later when he really left her, their | hearts were saying In unison “good- | bys Go, Philip—I must have a little while to get myself in hand and then 1 will go down and sign my consent to your enlistment.” With another lingering caress | Phillip left his mother and hastened | to his room. He locked the door, | thinking as he did so, that it was the first time he could remember that door had ever been locked. Hasily he took out the letter from Lyra and with shocked surprise he read: it will have to stand. “Wynne—the world—your world | has cempletely changed and 1 am | milk, coftee. | g1ad. That may sound heartless, but | t drive from my window this morning, and I watched you and heard you until you were out of sight and heard you calling on all your friends to join you in signing up for the war, “Wynne, you never thrilled me as you did at that moment—the mo- ment when I was bidding you good- bye. “What a glorious wind-up it was to a glorious experience. That memory I hope to keep foreever, even if all the others fade. “Last night after I returned home from that ride I knew that the play was over—I knew that we must part—I knew that ,as I really did not love you, I must not let my vanity take you any further on to would both be disgraced race was inevitable when people xnew. “I have too much to lose and you must not have any more to forget. This is why I am bidding you good- bye in this fashion. You may think it is cruel but, dear boy, I am really being Kind to you. I have to thank you for the most wonderful few weeks of my life, and you must re- member you gave them to me when 1 thought good times of that kind were over. That was not the least of their thrill. “You are going o France, dear boy, and when you are there you will have mo time to think of me. Fate also has been merciful to you. This greater thing which will wipe everything clse out of your life for a while has come just at the right moment “Good-bye, Wynne, and Iek next time.—Lyra.” Phillip Wynne Tracy IV read that unfeeling letter over once again, and then he slowly tore it into tiny bits and heaping them up on a large ash tray which stood be- side his bed, he touched a match to them. Quietly, with set face, he watched them burn. During that time he also burned his faith and trust in women. He would have no more to do with any of them, he said, forgetting his mother and Natlee. All the time Lyra had been playing with him. better | She took him on because she knew that he was easiest of all the boys that were his friends. She flattered him by telling him he was a man. She made him minister to her vanity in every possible way—well, he would show her he was a man. He would not let his love for a false woman in any way hurt him. Now without a qualm, she had killed his pride, and with it she had killed his reverence for all women. “Damn her,” he said, *“she won't | et away with it in this fashion. I'll make her say that both in words and time. T'll make her it hadn’t been me been someone else.” The flaming paper became a little heap of gray ash. He abruptly sat down on his bed and flung his arms across the table standing by it. As he did so he jarred the little tray to the floor, scattering the ashes all over the room. His first love affair was dissipated forever. “My God, Lyra—do you know what you have done?" he asked, as though she could hear. His face dropped on his outstretched arms and he burst into sobs. In a little while it was another Phillip Wynne Tracy that stood be- she was lying actions all the own up that if it would have fore his mirror than the one who] stood before it on the day he started out to meet Lyra Hilllard. The eyves had narrowed—they never again would he the round eyes of inquiring youth. The mouth had straightened and thinned—even the complexion had lost its youthful glow and in its place there was a sallow tint that &poke as eloquently as did the faint lines from the nose to the corners of the mouth of experience and mental pain. Quite sedately and firmly ' Phillip walked to Lyra's door and knocked. He was beyond caring for conven- tion now. There was no answer. He opened the door and found the room in the disorder of a hurried packing and departure. This gave Phillip another shock. He wondered what Lyra had said to his mother as an excuse for such a hurried return to her home. He looked around the room. Be- side the dressing table a glove was Iving on the floor. As his eyes rested upon it he laughed. It was a laugh not good to hear, especially from one so young. It spoke .only of cynicism and disbelief. Slowly, so slowly that to an ob- server he would have seemed to be propelled against his will, he walked over to the dressing table and pick- ed up the glove. As his hand touched it he shud- dered—there i3 something so inti- mate about a glove—Phillip felt al- most as though he were holding Lyra's hand. (TO BE CONTINUED) e e Natlee carries out her intention to visit Mrs. Tracy. How she recelves her is told in the next chapter. 4 Menus for Hne Family Breakfast—Stewed prunes, eereal, cream, ham omelet, crisp toas Luncheon—Cold sliced cottage ham, potato salad, rye bread, frult "I saw your triumphant ride down jelly with whipped cream, milk, tea. Brolled lamb chops, b: ed potatoes, creamed spinach, head lettuce with Roquefort cheese dress- ing, cherry pudding, milk, coffee. The potato salad Bsuggested in the luncheon menu gains distinction by the addition of sardines. The use of beets or pimentoes in garnishing adds an interesting touch of color to an otherwise rather pale dish, / Potato Salad Two cups diced cooked Potatoes, 4 tablespoons broken sardines, % cup diced celery, 1 teaspoon minced parsley, 3 drops onion Jjuice, 2 hard cooked eggs, % cup mayonnaise, 1 tn:\'lespum\ lemon juice, 3, teaspoon salt. Sprinkle potatoes with salt, pars- ley and onion juice. Cover and let stand on ice for one hour, Sprinkle sardines with lemon juice, cover and let stand on ice one hour., Combine Potatoes, sardines, celery and eges cut in dice, Add mayonnaise and mix lightly with a wooden fork. Serve on crisp lettuce and garnish with snips or strips of pickeld beets, (Copyright 1527, NEA Service, Inc.) Your Health How to Keep It— Causes of Iliness (BY DR. MORRIS FISHBEIN) Editor Journal of the American Medical Association and of Hygeia, the Health Magazine A study of the incidence of low blood pressure in relation to the presence of various diseases and various body types indicates that $here are many factors that may bs involved in the presence of this con- ditjon. Blood pressure falls during sleep, paralleling the depth of the sleep, When the sleep is disturbed, there may be a sharp rise in blood pres- sure; when the person dreams of some active effort, the blood pres- sure rises. There seems to be a definite relationship between tha blood pressure and the body weight. Thus persons who are ohese tend to have a higher blood pressure than persons of normal weight. The factors controlling the blood pressure are the force of the heart beat, the condition of the walls of the blood vessels, the volume and physical state of the blood, and the amount of the resistance that tha blood meets whils elrculating through the body. . When a person takes an anesthee tic his blood pressure tends to fall, In most of the acute infectious di cases there is a fall in blood pres- sure, more serfous in some condi- tions than in others. During height of fever the flow of the blood, par- ticularly in the smaller blood vessals, is slower than in health. This slow- ing of the circulation naturally tends to diminish the blood pressure. Tha same is true of many of the mors chronic infectious diseases in which fever is a prominent sign. 1In the advanced stages of tuberculosis there tends to be a lowering of tha blood pressure, apparently asso- ciated with the general poisoning of the body by the production of the bacterium that causes this disease. On the other hand, diabetes appears to affect the blood pressure but little. Many drugs are known which will lower the blood pressure, but thess drugs do not have the value of ke¢p~‘ ing the pressure lowered or over-: coming the fundamental physical conditions of the body which are re- sponsible for ecither high or low blood pressure, Apparently all of the varieus glands in the body that have se. cretions may be concerned with the maintenance of the blood pressure at a certain point, hence a disorder of any of these glands modifies the circumstances and may raise or lower the blood pressure. At pres. ent, research all over the werld is endeavoring to define accurately the effects of these glands and of thetr secretions on the atate of the body in health and disease. FLAPPER FANNY SAYS Never . make light _of . your heavy. Ha guessed that it was ‘ght. The stranger hesitated. e By John Held, Jr. THE FOOEY WAS NOBODYS' BUSINESS ND HOW ¢ HEE-BEE - JFE -BFES! MARCY' MARGY (M NOT CETTING A WORD OF WHAT YOURE_SAYING ' NGLISH" {;fii TN THAT CASE | WASTED ‘&}% FOUR YEARS IN COLLEGE.