New Britain Herald Newspaper, June 18, 1927, Page 4

Miss Coyote Is Shy By Thornton W. Burgess The patience that will try and try will win acquaintance with the shy. —Old Mother Nature It was known now all through the | (sreen Forest and all over the Green | \eadows and all through the Old | PPasture, even up in the Old Orchard | nd down at the Smiling Pool, that there was a Miss Coyote, though | only a few had seen her. Blacky | he Crow and Sammy Jay had seen ' her, for vou cannot keep out of ~ight of those sharp eyes of theirs very long, and it is useless to try. Of course they spread the news. Right away everybody was anx- ous for a glimpse of Miss Coyote. They wanted to see if she were like Old Man Coyote. But Miss Coyote | was ghy. Yes, indeed, Miss Coyote was shy. Bhe was 8o shy that no one rot more than a glimpse of her, not | even Old Man Coyote, although he | tried hia very best. Poor O1d Man Coyote! He lost his ippetite: he couldn’t sleep: he | couldn’t even sit still. And all the | time Miss Coyote teased him by keeping just out of his way. He would get a glimpse of her, but ‘nat was all. Sometimes he would call to | Ver longingly. Sometimes he would lose his temper and howl at her. Rut shy littla Miss Coyote wouldn't give him a chance to make her ac auaintance. Of course, all the neighbors knew what was going on. Sammy Jay <pent a great deal of time watchinu 014 Man Coyote and Miss Coyots Of eourse he had to talk about * sald he to Peter Rabl sitting on the edge of Briar-patch, “Peter. 1 Man Covote will dear 014 think O replied Peter. “T think he anyway. He certainly crazy. But why do vou say “Because,” replied Sammy, “hr doesn't eat and he dossn’t sleep, ut <penda all his time looking for that Miss Coyote who has come here to tve.” “Huh:” said Peter. “What's the matter with him? T thought Old, Man Coyote was smart. To be sure, he hasn't been smart enonch to| catch me vet, but still, T thought he was smart. Does she run away from | him, or what?"” “T guess she's Sammy. “Anyway, s! as 013 Man Coyote ing to find her she manages to €lip away.” “Is she afraid of him?" Peter. “1 gon't know." sald Sammy. “If <ha s, she's queer. for she spends most of her time hanging around whers he is.” “Huh!" said Peter again. Then Peter's eyes Fegan to twinkle, Pres- (ntIv he hegan to chuckle. “What are you chuckling over?' inanired Sammy. “1 was thinking of little Mrs Peter.” replied Peter. | “Well, what of it?” asked Sammy “1 was thinking of her when shc wasn't Mrs. Peter ut all. but just little Miss Fuzzytail.” replied Peter “Well, what of that? What there to chuckle ahout?" demanded Sammy. “Well,” replied Peter. shy,” replied ‘s clever. Just inquirci is X recail that little Miss Fuzzytail did to me | just what Miss Coyote is doing to PIVPLES BROKE OUT ON FACE Caused Disfigurement. Healed by Cuticura. My face broke out with pimples They were small and hard but I queez:d them snd they became arger and very sore. They were :zaitered all over my face, causing disfigutement, and I was ashamed to go to parties. The trouble lasted about two months. 1 tried different ointments but without success A friend recom- mended Cuticura Soapand Ointment 301 sent for a free sample. I pur- chased more, and after using threc cakes of Soap and three boxes of Ointment I was healed.” (Signed) Miss Anna Smith, 61 Brook St., New Britain, Conn., June 13, 1926 Use Cuticura forall toilet purpor Soup e. Ointment 7 and b Taleom 25+ here. " Sample each froe. ¢ is July Fourt these good o the day, you Better and ing done! FHONES - The Biggest Day of Be all dressed up on this bit holiday. Look your best. Every body is dressed up in honor oi zall one of our num bers right now for that clean pressing T&N. B. DryCleaning Co. “cT% m Masters Standard inquality and Sevvice” 06 WEST MAIN ST. “Huh:" replied Peter. “I think he is crazy, anyway" Old Man Coyote. She made me Iy run my legs off. T lost my appe tite and 1 lost my sleep, and 1 lost my temper too. These ve shy folks certainly can make a fellow lot of trouble. Old Man (oyote has my sympathy. Yes, sir. he has my sympa It was Sa claim “*Huh (Copyright, 162 now as he flew away. by T. W. Burgess) The next story “At Last." o NE night the electric lights went out. Johony's house was “pitch dark.” “Well!” Mother exclaimed. “O! Goody!” Johany shouted. “I'll get & candle,” said Moth- er, “and we can play we are pio- neers out in the woods.” Johnny was so glad the lights went out. They all sat around the table and wondered if any In- dians were “lurking near.” Joha- ny's Daddy told a story about his Grandfather and Johnny wished he had lived in those days. — “O! I can go to bed by candle- light!” Johnny said. But just then the lights came WOMEN OF MIDDLE AGE ear- | 1y Jay's turn to ex- | JUYSIRAIED AND COPYRIGHTED BY JOUNSON FEATURES INC. WHAT HAS HAPPENED— The entrance of America into the ! World War finds Philllp Wynne | Tracy IV sutfering from the col- |lapse of his first passionate love | attalr. Before this, he and Natlee | Jones had had a childish engage- | ment which was objected to by both 3rs. Tracy and Mr. Jones. | Phillip becomes interested | Lyra Hilllard, an old friend of his mother’s, and shortly finds he is falling in love. The whole affair, however, into nothingness because war is de- { clared. Rod and Phil are the first to en- | list. Natlee nearly breaks Rod's heart by ignoring him completely it the depot, where she has gone to see the boys off. Mrs. Tracy sends Phil a letter of introduction to Marta Tennis, the daughter of an old friend, who lives near the iralning camp to which Phil has been sent. Here he meets Gladys, a girl of the streets, and on an impulse of | pity, Phil proposes marriage, which | the girl, for Phij's good, refuses. He then insists on giving her $1,000 | with which to start life anew. Phil's regiment is ordered back New York, presumably bound for I'rance, and he meects Natlee there. His love flames anew, and he s . gone from camp several days. Here the story further unfolds— XXXIv A Sight of Marta Tennis So fast and furious was !love making that when Phil had left Natlee at the door of her aunt's sitting room at the Waldorf on the night of the fourth day he was A. W. O. L., they had planned to 70 before some juige and be mar- ried the next morning. “I'll_cali for you and we will go and get a license as early as we can,” Phil “T know it isn't fair, dear heart, for me to do this hing. You should not let mo make vou my wife before I go overseas, but, oh want you'so. T know T may be gone for years—that I may never come ‘hm‘k. but T am selfish enough, my | darling, to want to feel that T have | left you behind mine—I want to be | able to think of you as you are to- night in this littie soft white frock, of | folds—with | with its foolish little bunches flowers catching up its your arms about my neck and your eyes looking into mine, of you In my memory as my wife.”” “Come to me by nine in the | morning, Wyrne, and pray God we | may have at least one day's happi- ness before you leave. The next morning. however, Phil was awakened by the fangling of | his telephone bell in his room at the | Ri { Taking down the rcceiver he lieard Rod's voice. “The regiment | has orders to move. For (iad's sake, | get here as scon as possible.” | Hastily he got into his uniform. went back to Camp Merritt and re- ported that he had been A. W. O. I.. for five days. Although everything was in the createst confusion, Lieutenant An- drews ' took time to have him court-martialed. He was fined $50 ind reduced to the ranks. Tt was characteristic of him that he took his medleine stoically, say- ing to himself that the meeting and | inderstanding with Natlee was jworth it, even if that understanding | could mot be consummated. Praise Lydia E. Pinkham’s | Vegetable Compound ‘ Mrs, An <winski of 526 1st Avenue, Milwaukee, Wis.,, writes that she became so weak and run- | down that she | w do her work. She saw not able to | house- | the name Lydia | E Pinkham's getable Com- pound in the paper and said {0 her husband, | “I will try that | medicine and see She says she took six bottles anc is feeling much Letter. M attie Adams, who lives in Street, Brewton, Ala., writes as follows: “A friend recos mended Lydia E. Pinkham's Vege- table Compound and since taking it I feel like a different woman." With her children grown up, the middle-aged woman find: he never had time to do d the new Looks, see the joy her grandchildren, urch and ng pushed ounger set, she finds a full, rich life of her own. That is, if her health is good. Thousands of women past fifty. say_they owe their health to Lydia a Vegetable Compound the Year h; the birthd Id United States. know. you want PLANT 413 W. MAIN ST 1323-3, 1323-2 “0. God. dom’t let me be afra id—don’t let in | sinks | thetr | | tivion. lee, T want you so—I ! (o her, although he had telephoned nany times, sending her just vefore y started for the ip a wire, Undying iove, Wynne. There were very few people at | the dock from which they embark- ©d, as all movements of the army were kept as secret as possible, but among the crowd he, at the last moment before they were ordered below, caught sight of his mother, tears streaming down her face, frantically wringing her hands and trying to pick him out from those | surging against the rail. {” “Mother, Mother,” he called, all his love and loneliness for her fill- {ing his heart at sight of her. “Here 1 am, here is Phil,” but she did not hear him. “Every one below was the command, and he was pushed | through the doorway as the uncom- prehendeding liner slipped from the docks and glided to the dark | brownish river and turned her long muzzle out to seca. Down, down, into the very depths of the ship, he was herded with the others, but the day had been full of excitement and hard work and ft was over. Phil felt something go out of him. | To his surprise he found he was not " able to even be sorry for his moth- or or Natlee, and he never thought of himself except to get into his bunk as soon as possible and drop | asteep. He hardly sensed the motion of the boat before he sank into ob- The next morning as a sailor shouted “All out for breakfast,” Phillip Wynne Tracy IV awakened in a different world from that he had ever known before. As he rolled out of his bunk he wondered if all the others of this crowd that was slowly passing up the ladder, laughing, swearifig and some of them almost crying, were tooking forward to breakfast as de- spairingly as be. Smells—smells—smells. The fetid air of below decks, the sickening smell of disinfectant, the odor of but T want | more than all else to keep a pleture | | weak coffee was dirty bodies as the line slowly passed through the entrance into the mess hall, the stench of burning grease and slimy dishwater, almost scemed more than he could bear. but Phil managed to squeeze in and put his mess kit and cup down on | [ the counter. T'nderdone bacon. bitter marma- jade, hunks of dry bread were thrown into his m kit, while hot, slopped equall into his mess cup and over | hand. He tried to eat, but it wouldn’t ! g0 down. As soon as possible, he stumbled hack to hiz bunk, but was soon call- ‘ed out agaln to hear the captain say that from now on the life pre- servers that were at the head of their bunks must be worn all of the time, and that no one must take off his clothes under any circumstances. You must sleep in your uniforms, men, shoes and all, and if one of you is found without his life pre. server he will be arrested.” | Recling back into his bunk again, | Phillip tried to think of someihing pleasant—of the beautiful Biltmor | Cascades where they danced las night—of Natlee as she looked fi | white chiffon gown with the little bunches of flowers looping up the skirt—of the touch of her soft, red mouth. Then he suddenly came ashamed of introducing her me be afraid.” be- | sult than the overturning and reaching of his stomach. He found himself crying | hurt child, in utter misery. Again and again he swore at him- self for losing his nerve at the first ruggestion of hardship. He fairly trembled with contempt as he asked himeself it he were going to be a coward—would he find out that he was yellow? With a groan he iurn- ed over on his face and praped, “O, God, don’t let be afraid—don't let me be afrai Frantically he started for the deck, he could not stand it longer. When at last'he reached the open air he found Rod looking pale, calmly sitting down close to the rail. “Have you been down in that hell hole, Rod?" he asked, weakly. “Yes, I just came up. ‘How did you stand ft ' “I'm afrald I didn’t stand it, Wynne. It makes one feel very small not to be able to control one’s stomack, doesn’t it?" Phil, to whom the fresh air of the deck had acted like a tonic, sat down by the side of his friend. “Rod,” he confessed, “I don’t mind not controlling my stomach so much, although that is rather awful —but I cannot control my thoughts. Rod, if you ses me acting as if 1 were afrald, will you please kneck me on the head?” Rodney Maxwell put his hand on his chum’s head as it ho were years older than he. “There, there,” he said, “I don't think you're differert from the rest of us who have an imagination. I don’t believe any man can be & hero when he's sick at his stomach.” “I'm not afraid, Rod,” Wynne, shakily, “but, oh, damn afraid I'll be afratd. Theres ia suck a thing as becoming used to misery, Phil found, fin the | next week, and although it seemed as though the nights only stretched out further if possible than the end- less days when he managed to roll out for formation and meals he grew to bear it all in a kind of semi-unconsciousness. At last, after standing hours be- | side their packs at their proper | deck stationa through the danger {zone, there came the sight of land through the mist and rain. Phil took a long breath. The storm was blowing off shore. The air had a very different smell fremy | that which had only blown across | the bitter salt brine. Phil almost thought he could de- | tect the odor of damp earth, but he | told himself not to be a fool. | Utterly weary and uncaring for ! what should come to him next, he | was surprised by the lilt of a wo- man’s laugh. | He looked up. On an upper deck where officers, nurses and war cor- | respondents were standing watching | | the approaching land, he saw in a | beautifully fitting, smart “Y" uni- | ftorm, Marta Tennis. | Phil's first thought was to try nd cover his dirty hands and wrists nd he was aware that probably his eck was black, as he turned away | to avold Marta’s eyes. Soon he real- | | ized, however, that he need not | | have worried. She dfd not see him. t was evident now that all sol- | j diers in the ranks looked alike to | her, i ! Lieutenant Andrews came up and | poke to her. He wondered it now | she would say—if she recognized | | bim down there—that he was better | muttered I'm so He had no: heen able to get word into memories that had no other re- | 100king than the natty officer in Msi spick and span uniform. | | | " Almost involuntarily he moved | behind another man. as he looked | down on the mob huddled below her, tired and miserable — and smiled. Evidently the condition of the men had not reached her conscious- ness. So that was the way she was go- ing to make it pleasant for the boys overseas, From now on. Marta Tennis woud probably not even recognize an enlisted man, except across a counter. “To hell with her, and all kind."” “What are you swearing nbout, buddy? Ain't you glaa we'ro at last in France?" “I wish to God we'd been rammed by a U-boat and left in the bottom of ghe mea,” was Phil's surly an- swer, The man looked at him as though he had suddenly gone crazy. At last his feet were on land once tiore, As Rod passed him In the blur of cepening twilight, he sald, “Well, ynne, we're here.” “S0 are General Pershing and ‘afayetie,” answered Phil, between growl and a grin. Tt was the first ghost of a smile hat had been on his lips since the | 1y he started from America. | Rod was pleased to see it and | vith & hand on his shoulder for a | noment, he said: “All right, Wynne, | we must surely see each other in | he morning. Wish you were still a | ergeant.” { “Oh, shut up, Red. 1 know you're | wishing that tor me, for you're not her | | | | Gt Sram rebte IR ey som ‘Merely Margy,rAn VAwfulIy Swee:-Gi—rl /| WHAT ON EARTH IS THIS HORSE | TRYING TO DO 2\ U a snob, but I'm all right.” He hoped that Rod bad passed on before he realized how his teeth were chattering. The rain, cold, damp, had gone threugh t{o skin. CHAPTER XXXV France At Last Finally the regiment was drawn up at “rest.” Phillip shifted his pack and rested. “Attention company. Forward, march.’ They started. No one knew for where, or when they were going to stop. There were rumors of & rest camp. Phil hoped it were true, for the motion of the boat never .cem- ed quite so terrible all the way cross the Atlantic as now he was on land. He thought his legs would not hold him up any longer. He could not sese where he was sloshing around in the mist which had thick- ened in the gathering darkness. He plodded on with the rest, however, Jog tired, and no one aeemed to have enough energy left in him to even swear at his plight. It was very late when they reached a low stone building before which they were halted. The :1ud seemed deeper than any they had yet passed through. Lieut. Andrews—someway, it gave Phil a little comfort that he too must be damnably uncomfortable— tried the door. It was locked. The lfeutenant went away and soon re- turned. “Attention. Just a moment, men. ‘We can not go in until we are ex- amined for contagious diseases.” There was a series of long groans, bursts of profanity and vulgarity, as the men submitted. It was five o'clock in the mornti.g before a tired medical captain open- ed the door of the barracks. Rain, mud, stench, dirt, disgust- ing medical examinations and the camp routine day after day. They called it a “rest camp,” but rever had Phil worked so hard at any time since he had been in the only after sundown—from seven until nine—that sitting at iron-legged tables placed on the sidewalks, one caught at least a ghost of tke spirit of France. One day, while walking about the town, he saw standing in the door- way of a small peasant’s cottage, a comfortable looking woman about | forty-five years of age. He asked her in French “how the | day went with her,” and she, de- | lighted to rave feund an American who could speak her language. made him come in, sit in the best chair, while she put before him. some bread and a small bottle of red wine. Every day after that found him at the cottage, The woman asked him innumer- able questions about the wonderful country that had sent its sons over seas to fight for France. Sometimes he brought Rod with him and one day they found a place near by where they could bathe in a kind of pool. The woman washed his shirt and underwear and when she was sure that Phil had plenty of money, ehe managed in some way to add eggs and chicken to help out his goat's milk cheese, his French bread and | his wine, He had not heard from Ris mother or Natlee since he left. He could not understand it, and finally he turned away when he knew the mail was to be distributed. He was ashamed as well as inexpressibly unhappy that he did not get any- thing from back home. At last one morning Rod came .0 him and whispered, “I think we're going up right away.” He tried to persuade Rod to go with him to the peasant’s cottage and celebrate for the last time, but as Rod was on duty, he stole out alone to have one final meal at the cottage of ths woman who had been so kind to him. He ate and drank with more pleasure than he Fad when he first tasted her goat's milk cheese, French bread and wine. Shyly she brought him a bow! of delicious onion soup, saying she had heard that day the regiment was soon to be ordered to the front, and she pressed into his hand a tiny amulet of Saint Joseph. “To keep from vou, the bullets of the Boche.” “Don’t worry about me, madame,” | he said. “It will not mean so much to me that T am kept from the bullets of the Boche, as that 1 am kept from your good food.” All the time he was talking to madame, he was saying to himself triumphantly that he had not a qualm of fear—~that the was looking eagerly forward to going to the front. There wers tears in the eyes of | madame as she kissed him on both cheeks and bade him good-bye. For the mother and the sweetheart in America, she kissed him. Phil had told her much about them, and as he had not yet lost much of his sentiment, although he | thought he had—he stood up and saluted while they drank to them both so far across the sea. Walking out. he left all the money he had in his pockets, on the table, and this time it was he who kissed her on both cheeks. That night he wrote both to his mother and to Natlee, asking each to comfort the other while he was To his mother he wrote: *“W going up to the front almest diately, dear, and I hope 1 wi a letter from you before I his | whether 1 do or not, this, which will tell you that I 1 you perhaps more at this momen than I ever did in my life. “If the regiment had not sailed in such a hurry, T would have masried Natlee before I left. We had planned to do 80 the morning of my departure. “Be good to her Mum, as only you know how to be. She is much the best girl I have ever known and the only one I have ever seen that is worthy to take your place and bear your grandchildren. “Someway, tonight, as I sit here on my cot, I seem to realize many things ahgut you, mother dear, that I never did before. “I am sure that the Tracy men have always been more or less sel- fish. When I come back, I will make up to you all that T have made you miss. “In my last letter 1 told you about the peasant woman who call- ed me ‘her little son’ and who lad been #0 kind to me. “Write to her, dear. She has lost three boys in this war and this afternoon while I was there, I think she was praying for you and for m. all the time I was eating my last meal in her house, 7 saw her finger- ing her beads. “Good-night, dear. It is very late. 1 love you. “Phiilip.” To Natles he wrote: “I am sitting here, my darling, thinking of you, as it is probable that every man in this company is thinking tonight of some one he love in far off America. “Yes, the orders have come. We are going up to the front tomorrow night. “A moment ago, just after I had finished a letter to mother, Rod came in and said that the regiment was going to leave for the front. He silently shook my hand as he he passed out the door sald, ‘Give my love to Natlee." “He knew that 1 would write you the very first thing. “By this time you know why I did not come to you that next morn- ing. As I write this letter tonight, I realize that Fate played me a scurvy trick to send me away with- out seeing you again. “I think I would feel so much better it 1 could think of you as my wife. T am saying to mysel? that perhaps you are feeling the same way. Would you have loved to be my wife, Natlee? Of course you will be as soon as I come home, but would you be less unhappy tonight it you could say—‘T am Wynne's wife? No one nor nothing can take | that from me.’ “Do you say in your heart, as Y am saying in mine, that T am your only love, and that although I do not know when I can write to you again, T want you to know that whatever comes to me, I shall love you as I love you now. all through eternity. “I kiss vour dear eyes until they close and your soft lips until they grow tense with love for me. “Good-night, beloved. “Wynne” After the letters had been fin- ished, sealed and dropped in the | company box. Phil wandered back and seated on his cot he fingered the little amulet, not so much thinking of himself as of his mother and Natlee. He hoped they were sleeping and not worrying about him, and he wished, oh, so fervently, there was some way that he might let them know that now at least, all was well with him. It seemed such a long time, eons, since he had told his mother so casually, that he was going to war. Here he was, across the Atlantic from those he loved, and like the Jack-in-the-hox with the 1id unfas- tened, just about to jump out and into ft. (To Be Continued) Phil and Rod are soon to go to the front. Will he again meet Mar- ta? Read what happens in the next chapter. Menas for the Family BY SISTER MARY Breakfast — Stewed rhubarb, creamed dried beef on toast, radish- ts, bran muffins, milk, coffee. Luncheon — Baked timbale of carrots, toasted bran muffins, stuff- i ed cherry salad, iced cocoa. Dinner — Vegetable and nut loaf, creamed asparagus on toast, tomato surprise salad, Spanish cream, milk, coftee. Vegetable and Nut Loaf Four good-sized potatoes, 1 1-2 cups chopped nut meats, 2 table- apoons butter, 3-4 cup milk, 2 eggs, 1 teaspoon salt, 1 teaspoon mixed seasoning herbs, 4 tablespoons bread crumbs, One kind or several kinds of nuts can be used. Boil potatoes and put through a ricer. Add butter and milk and beat well. Beat eggs until light and add to potato mixture with nuts. Add seasoning and mix thoroughly. Shape into a roll and roll in crumbs. Place on a well but- tered baking sheet and bake thirty minutes in a moderate. oven. Re- move to a hot platter, garnish with crisp sprigs of parsley and cut in elices to serve. away. HE'S AL RICHT, MISS, HE WA JUST WALTZING A BIT i WALTZING 7) Causes of lliness BY DR. MORRIS FISHBEIN The psychologists of Stanford University, who recently published the results of their study of the lives of 300 eminent men and wo- men, in an attempt to determine what degres of mental ability characterizes the genfus in child- hood, developod some practical it not startling conclusions. They soon found that they must know aleo the hereditary background of the person who achieved distinetion and also what contribution to his success had been made by his sur- roundings in early life. They found that youths who achieve eminence have in general a quality of parents above the averago and many superior advan- tages in their early surroundings. The son of an eminent lord high treasurer, of an ambitious army general, of a president of the United States, of a British admiral, or of an eminent scholar may be expected to rise to a position above the average. Not all the sons of the eminent achieve success, however. A favor- able heredity is an asset, yet the special combination of inherited traita that makes genius is im- portant, so that an eminent man may be the son of a tinker as was Bunyan, author of “Pilgrim’s Pro- gress”; of & mason, as was Carlyl author of “The French Revolution' of a strapmaker, as was the phil- osopher Kant: of a day laborer as was Captain James Cook, celebrated British navigztor; of of a peasant, as was Cornelis Jansen, famous Duteh theologian. Young geniuses seemed to have speclal opportunity for superior education and for elevating and in- spiring soclal contacts. Pitt, the younger, John Quincy Adams and the Humboldt brothers had train- ing for leadership. Mozart, Michel. aggelo and Weber had much spe- clalized instruction. On the other bhand. the opportunity in youth of Abraham Lincoln, Faraday and Blucher was not such as to make® for sucgess. ‘While individual chances for eminence are usually dependent upon a favorable heredi- tary background and are increased by favorable opportunities. emi- nence is not dependent on either or both. Appliqued Velvet An important new hat combines | natural ballibuntl with a black vels vet applique in modern design on | the crown and bow of straw faced with velvet. Women are more forgiving than men; th practice, i 7 eare i more