New Britain Herald Newspaper, June 17, 1927, Page 20

Love’s Einbers Adele Garrison’s A bsorbing Sequel to velations of a Wife” NEW BRITAIN DAILY HERALD, FRIDAY, JUNE 17, 19217 My Sons Swecthearts WLLUSTRITED AND COPYRIGHTED BY JOUNSON FEATURES INC. IDA_McGLONE GIBSON Beginning a New Serial—————————— Madge Finds Herself Locked in a|for an overnight stay if he, by any | ' Deserted Building With | clance, was prevented from return- | hat Has Happencd The entrance of Arm ca into the | | from your mother. She sems to have | tunic, took out the bills and thrust gotten into her head that you are!them into her hands. in trouble. What have you been do-| She drew away so qiickly that Philip Veritzen Veritzen llmousine had but one oc- cal producer himself. Indeed, there| {ing to his own home on one of his | World Besides Otto, the chauffeur, the| {requent country drives, and for the Tracy IV suft | rest cupant, and that the great theatri-|SCripts, notes, blank paper, pencils +Before this, was crammed with manu- and sketching materials, that he War, finds Phillip Wynne ing from the collapse passionate love affair. | : and Nilee Joncs, | who was the daughter of the Tracys' |of his first Would have been room for no one MiEht be equipped for work at any 'milkman, had had a ehildish engag- | else hecause of the many pieces of luggage Which surrounded him. At the sight of the car I instantly slowed my gait, sternly repressing an impulse to turn and scurry away. The next Instant the car had stop-| ped. and Otto, moving briskly, vet with the dignity befitting the attend- ant of a potentate, had descended from his seat and opsned the door for his distinguished master, who| reached the pavement in front of his| offices just as 1 came abreast them. 1 had time to notice only that, he was looking unusually well—the bronze tint his face had acquired suited him eminently—and that he, was groomed as meticulously as ever. Then he caught sight of me, and instantly breaking off instruc- tions fo the chauffeur, crossed at once to my side. “How delightful that yours tirst welcoming face I see,” he e claimed, bending over my out-| strotched hand and kissing it in the foreign fashion which he invariably | uses in all his salutations to women, | but which I always find embarr ing. When finally relinguished | my hand it was with a rapidly mur-| mured apology for leaving me long enough to speak to his chauffeur. “Take the things up to the house, Otto,” he directed crisply, “and leave them al. except my emergeney bag. Then come back here and wait.” ] I drow a relieved breath. This @id not look as it Mr. Veritzen con- templated a long session at his of- tices, after all. He probably had an engagement with some friend or professional associate out in the country. His mention of his emer- gency bag indicated such a plan. The sight of that bag was a familiar one. Rumor said that its roomy depths held a simple requirement | is the Mrs. Reddy Brings Some News (By Thornton W. Burgess) Luck is-good or bad to you According to the point of view. | —Old Mother N;\lllrc.y = | Reddy Fox and Mrs. Reddy sepa rated, Reddy going out on the Gree Mecadows to look for meadow mic: and Mrs. Reddy working along the| edge of the Green Forest looking for | woodmice, Both were gone all! night. It was just as jolly, round Mr. Sun started his daily climb up into the Blue, Blue Sky that Reddy reached his own doorstep in the| Old Pasture. He had had fairly good hunting and he was ready for a nap. Mrs. Raddy grinned when she saw how sleepy Reddy looked. “I'll wake him up,” said she to herself. Then she spoke to Reddy. “Did you have good hunting, my dear?” she asked sweetly. Reddy nodded. “Fairly good.” said he. “I got enough, and, after all, what more can one want? What luek 4id you have? It must have been good, for I notice you got home ahead of me.” had good luck at first and then I had bad luck,” said Mrs. Reddy. “What do you mean by bad luck?”" anded Reddy. “I mean,” sald Mrs. Reddy slowly, of ¥ | haa kept | was lock moment ths whim for industry should seize him. It was sald that he never entcred his car without as- suring himself that the bag was in place, for often, if the drive wer: only for an heur or two, some idca which needed working out would flash upon him and he would write 28 the Lere him through smooth drives of Central Park the length of Riverside. seant time, how tion to my His directions 10 turned his back are wonderfully as we walked ti 1 of the Luilding. 4 are.” gratifving approval but 1 knew that if I him waiting those kindly tones would have changed to in tonations resembli the grating o the key which he took from an e quisitely tooled lcather case and fitted into the lock. and which for an instant appeared to prove un- and ever, for mployer's Otto fin- to mu. ished “Yon “But, n his voice, | trustworthy. ast, and Mr. the heavy But it Veritzen door and Then he was open at pushed back held it while 1 entered. sured himself that 't d again and swung his arm toward the stuirs apologetically. “It s fortunate that our offices are only upon the third floor,” he id. “Even so, 1 hate asking you to climb these siairs.” “1 do not mind I in least,” T assured him, truthful but as 1 followed him up the wind . broad steps T told myselt that 1 mind absurdly enough the sensation T had of. being locked in vith Phillip Veritzen in a deserte office building. m Newspaper Inc. “What do you mean by bad luck?"” demanded Reddy So Feminine! the | ment which was objected to by both | Mrs. Tracy and Mr. Jones, | Hilllard, an old friend of his moth- 'er's. | The whole affair, however, into nothingness because war clared. itod sin is de are the first 10 en- d in her anxiety to ! ignores Rod entirely. |1 s his h.art. i i he must leave for the { i southern training camp before see- | ing his mother again. Here he has| t a most unusual experience with a|district is to be broken up tonight,” money, nameless girl. He gets detailed kitchen police and his passes voked. | On an poses m. the to | ¢ t pulse of pity, Phil pre iage to the nameless girl story futher unfolds- APT XXX11 | Phil Bids Good-bye To Gladys } All the n {vous as 1t seemed to [never seen so many telegrams de- | Tiv | ¥ day Phil was as ner- | jsince he IM and | parade, but Lieutenant ' | ranged matters in such had been at Fort Bliss. | er mother cime up for | \drews ar- . way that| to them. | Marta, however, managed to con- vey to him that the Lieutenant was as possible and close th: incidcfll.! the {0t making a hit with her, even!put he was afraid for her after she | While he was escorting iv.m to lhclr: | car It |telegrams and smiled fe [time that day. He realized that| | Andrews was doing him a favor by taking Marta and her mcther away |just at that moment. | punishment to give him a |read his anxiously awaita message |from his mothier. ;r One, of course, {that he call at the office and receive {a sum of money from some one that |he should name. day ic | decide not to call for it. His mother | | had wired: | | “What is the matter sond Are| {you in great trouble? I cannot un- {derstand why you should want such |a large sum of money as your al-|4oor, has been sent you eve I 1equested the Trust Com- to send it weekly instead of y. the day after you went| Do you want me to come 1 am greatly worried. 1 have | lowance | week. I par it | month also wired Rod asking bim if ¥ou!clothed herself in a strect dress of | it. were all right, At first T had deter- 1ed to get on the train and go to | you, but Major Aukland said he | |tought it would be much betier to| |tet | ed me 10 send you the money and nothing, but I cannot refrain 1o the depot to | after the one outburst {from Mother this morning will re- | tough ed to other men in the outfit| g s then that Phil received two ' no one in the telegrapn the first | that time. | When he arrived at the “narrow | It was notignd out chance to | drunken, jostling. swearing crowd. !ing, writing for money? “l wired yesterday cvening for (81,000, Rod gave a prolonged whistle. Been gambling?” “That is a pretty big sum, Wynne, Phillip becomes interested in Lyra | ©VeD for you to lose.” “Oh, hell! Stop your preaching, | Rod. Neither you nor mother seem to realize mone that it really is my own Besid 1 am not sure that I have lost it Rod looked mystified, but as usual he said noth- ng more except to volunteer to dentify him. “I think the telegram 1 received do hat,” returned Phil, loftily. “They say that all the red-light continued Rogd. “I expect every guy in the regiment will be For my part, here to see the fun. I think it will be rather a good place 10 stay away from.” Phil knew exactly what Rod meant by this speech, but he made 10 comment except, “I feel rather isorry for those poor women.” Rod gave him a searching glanee mation that he was golng down to sat his money. Rod acted as though e wanted to y something more, but Phil hur- iried out of hearing. When he had received the money he did not get a chance to speak |in ten $100 bills, he did feel a little | nervous for himself and fer Gladys. He wanted to get it to her as soon | had gotten it in her possession. He was glad there happened to be office at street” he knew the reason why. 1t looked as though every man in of the army was in that When he had succeeded in reach- ing the place that he knuw had be- was the requestjonged to Gladys, he found the door shut and the curtain dowr Contemptuously he was turning The other Was & yway when the door was cpened just | or which almost made him | cnough for a hand to be thrust out | and Come volce, She fairly pulled quickly slammed and lecked grasp his sleeve. " sald Gladys, in a low tim in and the “I was running no chance of miss- ing you,” she sald. “It i3 a terrible lot of animals that are g1owling out there. Sometimes I thought they would break in the door.” Phil looked at her. She had cark blue, Her hat and coat lay across the bed while on the floor beside it was a pitifully rmall bag. “Do you think it will be safe for | ou work it out yourself, He ad- | yon to go away fonight?” he aswed. “Not very,” she answered. 3 would have gone this afternoon, but {from telling you that if you need me™ _put—you said you wera coming.” {1 will start on the next train. Your {loving and much worried “Mother." | | hurried out to find Rod. | “I was hunting for you he sald. “I have just o Wynne,” o wire | “I'm sorry, Gladys, that 1 have kept you, but I could not get herc before. I did not get the wire until The moment he read ‘his wire, he |about two hours ago.” She looked her question. but did ot speak. Phil unbuttoned a pocket in his |they fell to the floor, and she could see that they were all yellow backs. “You should not have come into the street tonight with all that {money, Wynne, your life would have {been in great danger if it had be- icome known that you had it.” | "I, expect so, Gladys. How can ‘you hide it so that you will be safe |with it? You see, I did not know how to get it to you any other way. 1 knew you could not use a check.” The girl slowly bent down, and picked up the money. Rising, she | held it out to Philip. | He Beld his hands to ais sides and {shook his head. “You must take it, Wynne. you see I cannot keep it? Again he shook his head. “But — but I cannot take she sald agun, Don't | your rather Hwildly.” “Have you enough of your own to {take. you somewhere — where you |can at least rest for a wkile?” | “I have just $50. I have not been ble to earn much lately, but I have |saved all the money you left the two 'times you have been here.” | “Well, that roll of bil's is what IT'm going to leave on my third and junder which Phil felt himself color | last visit."” m as though he had jas he turned away witn the infor- | The girl looked at him dumbly. “Take it, Gladys. It reslly means | rothing to me. I want you to have !it for two reasons — frst, because you need it probably more than I | shall ever need money, and secondly, hecause you have shown me that !there are sincere, honest women in | the world.” ! “Honest — me?" faltared Gladys. “Sure. You have been honest with me as a man is honest. A man does | est, but he must not lie or steal. My ldear, T think you have al the vir- tues but one. “When I am gone, you had better leave your door locked until tomor- irow morning, and then get out of |town as soon as possible.” “Wynne, 1 will take this money, |tor as you said last night, ‘it is a way out,’ and if you ever think of me after tonight, will you remem- ber that T am proud of what you | just said to me?” “Some day you will know that men and women are all alike—good, bad and indifferent. The things that | nake men honest are the things that make women virtuous, for virtue |does not mean one thing Ina man |and another thing in a weman. Very {coon the world is going tc acknowl- edge that, Will you rem:mber that you first heard it from a woman like me?” | 'she thrust the money into her [bosom and made as if to hold out her hand. Philip started to grasp but instead of letting him clasp hers, she quickly unlockwd the door nd took hold of his arm and thrust him forth. He heard the lock click. Then he | walked swiftly down the strect. | After he left Gladys’ doorway, he walked quickly to the tel:graph of- fice and wired a night letter to his { mother. | “Thanks for sending me the money. I know that my income must have accumulated all there years to such an extent that a check for a but it was nice of you to have made it so easy for me to get it promptly. “I am not in any troub’e, and am feeling splendidly. Have met your triend, Mrs. Tennis, and her daugh- ter. She—the daughter and not the |che is making my stay at Fort Bliss | quite pleasant. “Dear Mother, will you not come (to the realization that 1 am grown up? Surely if I am old enough to fight for my country, I am old enough to decide my way of living tor myself. “You are very far Fort Bliss and, if you wil forgive me, I think you are still further away from my newly discovered not need to be continent to be hon- | thousand would not meaa anything, | | mother — is a very pretty girl and | away from | “that some one spoiled my hunting.” “Who?” asked Reddy very blunt- Iy, as he stared at Mrs. Reddy. “The little dog whose footprints you saw this morning,” replied Mra. Reddy mischievously. “T knew it was a dog all time,” declared Reddy. “Dld you?" said Mrs. Reddy sweetly. “That's Interesting. Be- cause, you see, it wasn't really a dog at all.” Reddy stared very hard at Mrs. Reddy. “If it wasn't a dog, who was {t?” he demanded. “It was Coyote,” whispered Mrs. | Ready. Reddy jumper as if a thorn had been stuck In him. “Old Man Coyote?” he asked. the Black knife-pleated chiffon ar- { ranged in tiers over white is used to | make a charmingly feminine sun-| shade with a stub black and self. “Some day when I become better acquainted with this son of yours than I am now, I will introduce him to you—not as you have idealized him, but as he really is. “Philip Wynne Tracy IV.” Three days later when Philip |strolled back toward the “narrow |street” he found the “high walls plerced by a window andi a door—a window and a door” razed to the CHAPTER XXXIII PHIL GOES A. W. O. L. TO MEET NATLEE Anne Huntington Tracy took the wire she had received from her son to Major Aukland and asked him to translate it. ground and-not a woman to be seen. | Mrs. Reddy shook her head. “No, said she, “it wasn't Old Man Coyote. It was Miss Covote.” Reddy blinked very hard and stared at Mrs, Reddy to make sure that she wasn't fooling. said he, “there are two coy stead of ona here.” { Now how did von fizure that out?” inquired Mrs. Reddy sweetly. “Is she as hig as Old Man Coy ote>" Raddy Inquired Mrs. Reddy shook her head #aid she. “Where did she come from?" manded Reddy. “I didn’t ask her,” Reddy “Why not?" Reddv inquired. Mrs. Reddy gave Reddy one good look. “Didn’t I say that some one | spoiled my hunting. Tsn't thar enough? Miss Coyote may not b as big ae Ol Man Coyole, | bigger than either of us cerfainly is quite able to of herself. T didn't ask a tions." “What Reddy. “I came home (Copyright, 1927, The nest story | | “No. | - | replied Mr | <hie sl care | did you do?" inquired | ss Coyote Is white spool handle. TREE-TOP STORIES PICTURES BILLIE and Betty were looking at pictures in a big book. Each picture had beys and girls tumbling around. “I'm th going for a walk in my Sunday shoes “Ho! I'm the boy with blue overells on.” Billie said, “And my name s Sam. ... and I'm go- ing down to the river and get in & boat and sail far away.”- “May I g0, too?” asked Louise air. “Yes, I guess s0,” Sam answer “If you'll sit etll” 1 Lasd, W. Rurgess) | It seemed to her these days that Phil was almost a stranger to her. Certainly Phil had never addressed her before as in this telegram. The major read the wire slowly. Being a man, he understood it thor- oughly, but he did not know how to !make Mrs. Tracy understand it Phil was getting over being a spolled child. He was getting what he need- She realized that his kisses were dif ferent trom the old childish ones. 2-d—the discipline that the army was Merely Margy, An Awfully Sweet Girl |, { - T T T WHAT KIND OF A HORSE DI YOU | R e | WANT 277 \ giving him. Although he couid not tell Mrs. Tracy, Major Aukland was sure frem this wire that Phillip was find- ing himself. “This message does not seem at lke Phil, Major,” said Mrs. Tracy. “Perhaps, my dear Anne, it's an- other side of him. If I were you I'd just leave him alone and let him {work it all out for himself.” “But Major, he scems unhappy." “Ot course he's unhappy. youth is unhappy when he wakes up and finds that this world is not made solely for his benefit. My advice to you, Anne, is to stay away from him Every why, although his mother was all the time promising herself she would go down to El Paso and Fort Bliss, she never scemed to find the time to do it. Phil, who at first was somewhat hurt, grew to be rather thankful that she did not, for he felt they were growing apart. She still thought of him as a boy, but he knew that since he had come to Fort Bliss, if not before, he was a man. Of course he loved his mother dearly, but this old world was changing very rapidly and his moth- er did not seem to be keeping up with the proccssion. Although Phil did not realize it, his experience with Gladys had ex- erted a far-reaching influence on his character. He seemed to be settling | down, whether he would or not. At first, he was much with Marta Tennis, but she, like all other girls in America, got the craze and joined the “Y'" and was soon sent to some station outside of El Paso. She promised to write to him, but seemingly had forgotten him. It was then that he and Lieutenant Andrews had agreed to disagree. Phillip could not be otherwise than a good soldier with the tradi- tlons of his family behind him, and when he had made up his mind that being in the army a good soldier was the thing to be, he settled down to regular drill and the monotony of army life with a will. | The lite out of doors, the drilling and the plain, coarse food, although (it was not palatable to either Rod | or Phil, was making them both hard muscled and healthy. They liked to think of themselves las “hard boiled,” and they swag- | gered a little. They both had learn- ted, perhaps, to swear much oftener | than when they first came down, and i | 'n{ life; but they had learned there | was such a thing as hard work and discipline, something which Phillip | | Tracy, at least, had never known be- | fore in alt his life. | Of course they complained to each | other, whenever they got together, |over the long time they were being | | kept at the training camp. For some | unknown reason they heard of oth- | ers who had enlisted long after them | having gone, while they lingered | hind. | Natlee wrote long, newsy letters, leither to Phil or Rod, each week, ! one with unhappi- {and both boys, {ness and the other with joy, notic- ed she seemed to treat them both | atike. s | They learned from one of th | letters that Jerry Kenyon had at | last substituted for one of the men t M. Jones' dairy, and that man for a while, had a rather de- on Phil, impatient as who was the | pressing effect igrowmg very months rolled by. Even when he recefved his cor- poral's chevrons he was not over- enthusiastic. {to leave, the day another bar wa added to the two already on hi sleeve, and he started presumably to | New York to take the ship for | France, in high spirits. learned had been sent to Chicago from Washington, where they were having a great campaign in selling | Liberty bonds. Phil was not sure he would her before he left. His lip curled as he read her mes- sage, “My heart is breaking, Son, see | when you arrive at Camp Merritt. 1 have to tell myself every hour of the day that I am a soldier, too. I love you, dear heart. Mother.” Natlee, as lovely as ever, however, | met him at the Ritz the day he ar- | rived at Camp Merritt. | “I'm going A. W. O. L.” he had | | said gayly to Rod as soon as they | | had gotten to camp, “and I'll be at | | the Ritz, old chap. If you find the | | company is going to leave, you must | | get me there,-for I don't want to be | left behind.” “Don’t do it, | Rod, | now. “Yes I can. T can risk anything {for one good time before I go abroad. How do we know we're ever | coming back? I for ons do not ex- pect to, and you told me you felt the same. Come on with me, old man, | let’s have one last good time togeth- | er in little old New York before we | | Wynne,” pleaded | ‘you can’'t risk cuurt»mur(ial’ | | my dinner clothes and you can send for yours. In ‘civies’ there will not be much danger from lurking M. P.’s. Come on, Rod, be a sport.” “No, Wynne, if you are going out in that reckless frame of mind T must be here to get you back {in time."” “All right, Rod, so long." Natlee, too, had braved her fath- they paid little attention the niceties | | was already on his way to France. | ! ; | The word came for the regiment His mother, to whom he wired, he | because I cannot leave to meet you | |or's aispleasure to be with Phillip. After she had told him that under any circumstances she would go to New York to see Wynne, Aunt Julia came again to the rescue. 8he told her brother he ought to realize that Natles was in love with Phil—that she had always been in love with him, and that unless he wanted to | make her perfectly |lite, he should give his consent for her to marry Wynne, “Anyway,” she added, “I'm going { to see that you don’t let your preju- | dice ruin your daughter's life as you {did mine. I'm going td take Natlee | with me to New York and we'll stay |at the Waldorf as long as Phillip | Tracy is in town. She shall have her jonce chance, for she may never see her lover again.” With this, Mr. Jones had to be content, although he did say he was right, that he did not see where this war would take the girls as well as the boys. Natlee very frankly gave herself into Phil's arms when she saw him, and as he kissed her eyes, her hair and her lips, she murmured: “Oh, Wynne, you don’t know how I've missed you. 1 was so afraid you | would fali in love with that Marta Tennis you wrote about.” “Well, what about Jerome Ken- yon, Nat? You practically told me your father thought you ought to marry him, and according to his notion be happy ever afterward.” “I didn’t tell you what I thought about it, did I, Wynne?” “No, dear, and you must never think about anybody else but me, for whatever foolish things I have done, I never intended to marry anyone but you. “Dear Natlee, don't let's talk about being separated and having | to remember things. I want to think you're going to be with me all the rest of my'life. I want to be happy. I'll go over to the hotel and get into dinner clothes and outwit the M. P.'s. I'll even telephone to Rod. May- be we could get him over here. “I wonder if you know how lovely | you've grown, darling,” he sald. | when again took her in his arms, | when bathed and dressed in his din- ner jacket he came to take her out for the evening. “I'm perfectly satisfied, Wynne, it you think I'm lovely,” she answered, sweetly, L “Aren’t you going to wire your mother you're here?” asked Natlee, as they were Cascades, c knew I was coming, I'll telegraph her tonigh arrived.” i he'll be broken-hearted if she | goesn't get here before you leave, | ynne." Perhaps,” answered Phil, who | was still bitter that his mother was aying in Chicago Major Aukland were c¢ngaged in selling Liberty bonds, instead of | rushing immediately to be with him | miserable for dancing at the Bilt- | but 3| t that | | think I'v where she and and I'm not going to let | anything stand in the way of hav- | ing the time of my young life. 1'll probably be old and gray before 1! | have another.” i They had wandered into a little | interoom and there, behind some | palms, while the orchestra was play- | |ing “It's a Long, Long Way to Ti perary,” Phil's lips sought Natlee's. | Breathlessly she realized that his | | kisses were aifferent trom the old childish ones. These had in them | | the hot sting of passion, as well as | i the tenderness of love, and, alas, | | there seemed to be a fifeting touch | ! of renunciation in them, ! (\'mlee. you do love me, do you‘; not?” | Something was clutching his heart | |at the thought of leaving her. She | { was so sweet, and she was his. At | that moment she seemed the only | { thing in all the world that was hi: | Her check lingered against his | | sleeve—her hand crept up to his | | face. “T loved you, Wynne, before 1| knew what it was—before T knew | | cnough words to speak it. T love | | you now, as, with your kisses on my | | 1ips, T sense its full meaning. 1 shall | [ love you after—" | She stopped. and although she | pressed a little closer to him, she ! | asked, “We're having the time of | our lives, aren’t we, dear | “You betcha,” he answered, with | | his mouth close to hers. He did not | amv parent | wants to know what the factors are liclous and uses the Dblack sweet cherries to advantage. Black Cherry Pudding. One cup milk, 1 cup cream, 5 tablespbons butter, % cup sugar, 1 teaspoon grated lemon rind, 1 tea- spood nutmeg. 1-4 teaspoon pow- dered cloves. 4 eggs, 1 cup sifted dried bread crumbs, 1 quart black cherries. Heat milk and crcam’ and add butter. Beat yolks of eggs well vith sugar, spices and lemon rind. Slow- ly add hot milk mixture, stirriag to dissolve sugar. Add crumbs and cherries with pits removed. Mix well and fold in whites of eggs beaten until stiff and dry. Turn into a'buttered baking dish. Place on several thicknesses of paper in a pan of hot water letting water come half way upon the dish. Bake in a moderate oven until firm to the touch, about forty minutes. Segve with slightly sweetened whipped cream. (Copyright 1927, NEA Service, Inc.) Your Health How to Keep (t— Causes of Iliness ARE GENIUSES BORN OR MADE? BY DR. MORRIS FISHBEIN Editdr Journal of the American Medical Association and of Hy- gela, the Health Magazine. Members of the department of psychology & Stanford University have recently made available the re- sults of a study of the_ factors re- sponsible for what we know as gen- fus. They studied the life records of 300 eminent men and women of history, paying particular attention | to thelr early behavior, thelr bright- ness while young, their energy. their ancestry and their body-bguild. Among the factors concerned in the production of genius, are home, home training and discipline, home intereats, education, and the amount of travel and geading. Interesis were rated as to Intellectual and | social activity, as well as to their breadth and intensity. Sixty-seven traits of character were recorded such as balance, desire to be liked by others, bravery, forcefulness, perserverancs, and simflar attrib- utes. Genlus Shows Early. The conclusions reached by this «tudy have the greatest interest for or for any one who that make for success. For in- ance, there were among the most eminent m some who, in child- hood, had inteliigence below the highest order. This i8 explained on the grounds that high but not the highest intelligence, combined with the greatest degree of persist- ence, will achieve greater eminence than the highest degree of intem- gence with somewhat less persis- ersons who achieved eminence as artists are characterized by cer- tain personality trends; degree of esthotic fecling, desire to excell and belief in their own powers. They have also originality of ideas, in- telligence and persistence of motive. Persons who achieved eminence as writers were above the average in the good traits of character. They rated lower in persistencejand balance but higher in all the soclal traits and in the emotienai than did the average eminent man. They were characterzied also by a de- gree of imaginativeness, esthetic feeling and amount of work spent on pleasures that were higher than for other groups. They also excedd- ed the average eminent man in their desire to be lcaders, in rating their special talents correctly, in originality of idea, {in strength of memory, and in keenness of obser- vation. They fell below the aver- 2 in soundness of common sense | and in the degree to which action and thought are dependent on rea- son, How Musicians Rate. Musiciens rate lower in intellec- tual activity. intellectual social traits and physical activity but dare to say more. (TO BE CONTIN . e Phil and Natlee plan to | higher in esthetic feeling, originality | of ideas, persistence in the face of | obstacles, and quiet determination. arry. | Scientists rated disproportionately ‘Then Rod phones the regiment is to | 1S In strength or force of charac- move. Read what happens in the | '¢F in intellectual traits, and in ac- next chapter, | tivity and balance; but dispropor- tionately low in soclal and self traits. These observations confirm the common impression. The investigators conclude that the rare and striking perfonality of genius w manifested even in early youth by behavior that devi- ated from that of the average indi- vidual &o pronouncedly that the rec- ord of its appearance was presegved in documentary form. Even in his carliest years the personality of the genjus was ‘something more than D) Mepas for the Family Breakfast—Cantaloupe, cereal cooked with ©8, cream, spinach with poached eggs on toast, milk, coftee. | Luncheon—Baked green beans, cottage chesse, sandwiches, hlack cherry pudding, milk, tea. Dinner—Baked 0. I've sent to Nonnle to send over | fresh mackerel, new potatoes in parsley butter, beet greens with lemon sauce, cucumber and lettuce salad, shredded fresh pineapple, oatmeal kisses, rye bread, milk, coffee. Children under six years of age should not be served cantaloupe for breakfast. A dish of stewed fruit or glass of orange juice should be planned for them. Black cherry pudding is truly de- the sum of its extraordinary parts. SIN ABRASIONS are painful and dangerous. Hes! them quickly and prevent infections witl Resinol 1 SHOWD SAY_A_ GOOD_BIG HOASE! rE I\ By John Held, Jr