New Britain Herald Newspaper, December 3, 1928, Page 11

@ weary of a hum drum street “READ THIS FIRST: The little yellow house never showed its true dinginess, because Mrs. Milburn refused to let anyone s see it. Her love transformed it to a shining palace where sacrificing de- votion made everything out of noth- ing. Emmy, the only daughter, and Robb Hollis, the boy who lived there, and who had always loved her, excited by the attentions the wealthy man she worked for show- ered upon her, decides to rent a tiny apartment of her own, where her employer, Wells Harbison, and her friends, can see her. Wells is an- xious to meet Emmy's mother, rnd she decides reluctantly to take him down to Flower street. Wells Har- bison commences to make love to Emmy. On payday Emmy is sur- ~ prised at a raise. She goes to the . cashier and he tells her it is for good spelling. Wells persuades her to take up music lessons. NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER XLV She rented an upright piano, and on the first Monday noon in May she took her first singing lesson in Madame Hartzell's ~ew down-towm studio. And she spent her evenings prac- 1 ticing scales with a right good will and wondering why in the world Wells Harbison was staying away from her so long. Her brain fastened upon a dozen solutions to that puzzle none of them satisfactory. . . . He might be engaged. He might be tired of her. He might be married. He might be waiting for a divorce. He might think she was beneath him because she worked for him and was as poor as a church mouse. He might even think he did not love her enough to ' hecome really serious about her, and wanted to stay away long enough to be sure of himself. “I wish I knew,” crooned Emmy. C all up and down the scale, evening after solitary evening. So things went on for another ten days or so. Then, on the second Sunday In May he appeared without warning at the apartment along about two in the afternoon. The doorbell rang, and Emmy answered it, there he -tood in the hall just outside the door, with his arms filled with bundles | and a new straw hat on one side ot his good-looking blond head. He was smiling at her as natur- ally as if he had scen her only the day before. There was not a trace of embarrassment about him. “Well, here we are again!” he greeted her, coming into the rocm. “Hello! You did get a piano! Y don't think so much of it." He scowled at the upright whose sole virine was that it did not take up much space. “T thought you'd have a baby grand,” he told " er, laying all of his bundles and his new hat down upon the gateleg table. mmy picked it up along with | his eane and his chamois gloves and A carried them into the tiny dressing closet. The feeling of them—the smooth, rich feeling of the gloves and the malacca stick and the cord- @ ©d silk hat band—pleased her. They - - AL were so exactly right, his clothes. As she laid them down upon the amall painted chest of drawers in the dressing closet the thought of the straw hat Robb had worn all the summer before popped into her mind. She had a swift mental vision of her mother's kitchen one Satur- day afternoon nearly a vear before, when Robb had spent a half hour hending over the sink with a tooth- hrush covered with some kind of liquid cieanser in one hand and his battered old straw in the other. . . She remembered how ashamed of that hat she had been the next afternocn when she had gone for a street car ride with him. It had been all streaks and spots, and she had sworn to herself that she never would be seen with him again until he got a new one. “Arer’t you going to open some of these packages? They're all things that T thought you'd like,” Harbison said, when she went back to the liv- ing room. “I brought you a Spanish shawl for vour piano. Let's see if it will improve the looks of this thing.” The shawl was a gorgeous one, the heavy, dull-silk Kind with brilliant flowers embroidered upon its creamy ground and yard-long fringe knotted along its edges. “Oh, but T can't take a thing like this from you! TIt's far too valu- able!” Emmy cricd, all propriety. “You've done so much for me now that it makes me ashamed when 1 think about it.” “Well, then, just stop thinking about it. That's simple enough,” the man said, quietly, opening a biz wooden hox of Russian cigarettes that he had brought for her. “Re- sides, anything that I might do for vou, Emmy, is mighty little com- pared to the kindness that you show to me.” “Kindness to you?” Emmy ech- temples with Vicks; also melt This clears the b:duu‘lunla- allybringsquickrelief, especially in those cases which o often saccompany colds. If headaches come too often, consult a physician. P2 - Viens when oed, suprised. “Why, what do you mean? What in the world do I do for you, for goodness’' make?" “More than you know. I'm & stranger in a strange land here, and 1t means a lot to me to be able to come to see you in this peaceful little place sometimes.” Emmy’s fice flamed softly, and her lowered lashes made shadows on her cheeks. . . . All at once she knew she did not want Wells Harbi- son to talk to her like this. She wanted to keep things between them on an ordinary friendly plane. It was so much more comfortable. “Why, you haven't even been here for almost two weeks,” she be- gan, and saw at once that she was saying the wrong thing. For Harbison's blue eyes darkened and narrowed, and he came close to her, looking down intently a “It's just two weeks to the day, said in a low voice. “Just two weeks. And would you like to hear why 1 stayed away all this time?” Emmy did not want to hear why now, although she had been sick with curiosity to know for the past two weeks. She gave her head a tiny shake that Harbison did not see. “I wanted to see if I COULD stay sway from you,” he explained. “Ana —here T am, right back where 1 started from, you see!” Emmy tried to laugh. “And here you are!” she said, uneasily. “Just in time to take me to the ‘pop’ con- cert down at Public Hall!" She re. membered suddenly, and thankfully, that there was one that afternoon. In nervous haste she put on her hat and coat, anxious to get away from the flat and its solitude. “Jiminy, but it's nice to be out, seeing something besinds my own four walls, for a change!” she con- fessed to him when they were seat- ed, side by side, 1n the hall watching the people come in to hear the con- cert. Here, with all the bustle and subdued noise around them she could tell him the truth. “I've hardly stirred from my flat, I was so afraid you might come or telecphone while 1 was out.” “Emray, do you mean that?” Har- i bison turned his head and gave her a quick, keen look. “If you do, you're a puzzle to me. You say you've waited for two weeks to sec me, just as I've waited to see you. And then when I finally do come to sec you, you drag me out into this crowd of people to hear a lot of music that T don’t want to hear. 1 don’t understand you a little bit.” Emmy did not understand herself, so far as that went. She scemed to be two peopl: one that liked Wells Harbison—more than liked him and one that was shy and uncom- fortable and unhappy in his pres- ence. Before the concert was over they got up and walked over to the Stat. ler Hotel for tea. People do not in- dulge in five o’'clock tea in the Mid- dle West, ag they do in the East and Kurope, and at this hour the big shadowy Pompeian Room was deserted except for themselves. They sat at a little table in a cor- ner with an orange-shaded lamp ving 2 glow over their faces. on ordered anchovy sand- wiches and pate sandwiches, green tea for Emmy and gingerale for bimself. When the ale came he slipped a small flat silver flask from his pock- et and unscrewed the top. The odor that came from it took Emmy back to a long-ago night on Flower street, when he father had come home with one of his worst attacks of “neuralgia” and her mother haa paid his taxi driver with part of her fifty-dollar birthday present. With sombre eyes she watched Harbison “sweeten” glass from the silver flask. She watched him while he lifted it to his lips and |drank half of the mixture in it be- fore he set it down. Over the little meal they talked |about Emmy’s voice, and how #m- | portant it was in a friendly. pleas- {ant way. Harbiscn said, as he had said before, “and you've got to spend | both time and money on it to make |1t what it can be. . T'm goins {to see that you do it, t00.” ! Emmy lay in bed that night, s- | tening to the sound of rain on the | | 1eaves her windows, | breathing in the odor of the wet s and dust from the park below, d thinking of Wells Harbison and i« goodness to her. No one ever Ihiad been so interested in her as he | was. No one, with the exception of herself, had ever believed in [ voice as he aid. On Friday of that week he took her to lunch, and afterward he went | with her to the music store where she had rented the upright paino and orderal a baby grand to be sent to her in place of it. And he insist- ed upon paying the difference 1n the price of them. “Why not?” he asked, when Em. my objected. “We're friends, and friends ought not to be silly and squeamish about borrowing ana lending money. 1If 1 needed money you'd lend it to me, wouldn't you? And T4 be proud to take it from mmy thought over what he said. |1t sounded like good, hard, common sense, put in just that way. “You can pay it all back to me in no time, too, once you're earning went on. “And you're going to earn it, too. No fear of that The baby grand piano quite dwarfed the living room when it ar- rived. But it had a beautiful bell- like tone and Emmy loved it. CHAPTER XLVI Harbison sent her a small marble ‘ thrace to set upon it, because, s he said, no baby grand piano was complete without one. “Tha Emmy told him, with her winged smile that robbed her words of even a tiny sting, “is the only silly thing I eve: heard you say. A plano isn't a table for statuary and vases. It's a delicate instrument, and shouldn’t be cluttered up with things that rattle and dance while it's being played, any more than a violin should be used as a tea tray.” But she set the Winged Victory ,on the table between the windoww, and | her | money with that voice of yours,” he | copy of the Winged Victory of Samo- | NEW BRITAIN DAILY HERALD, MONDAY, DECEMBER 3, 1928 where it stood in all its proud, free beauty and was an inspiration to her while she practiced her scales and exercisea. 8he could imagine herseit standing on the edge of a concert stage as proudly as it once had stood looking out over some ancient bat- tlefield or over some once-famous harbor filled with wooden ships. Harbison kept sending presents to Ler. Flowers every day. boxes of glazed nuts and fruits, magazines, a green enamel cigarette box, a silver tea ketile with a spirit lamp under it that burned with a blue flame and gave a touch of cozy luxury to her table. “I ought to be having Marianna and her crowd in for lunch or tea pretty soon,” she kept saying to her- self. But somehow or other there seemed to be very little room for anyone but Wells Harbison in her life these days. As he, himself, said, he camped upon her doorstep morn- ing, noon, and night. Toward the end of her first month in the flat she telephoned to ask Mariana, Cassie Sears, and little Lovey, to come for tea, and a four- some of bridge on a Saturday after- noon. She invited them on a Tues- day, and all there of them said that they could come. On Saturday she spent a third of the contents of her pay envelope on a lace-edged clotn for the table, on chicken sandwiches and French past'y from the smart- est tea room in the city, and on twe new decks of cards and a bridg: score. 8he rushed home, dusted her little living room, borrow a card table from the manager of the bullding, and was all dressed for her guests at half-past three, But they did not come. At five minutes after four the telephone rang, and Marianna's voice at the other end of the wire said, apologetically, that all three of them were miles away at the Pleasant Valley Country Club, “Even if we started this minute, we couldn’t get to your house 1n much less than an hour and a half. !s0 there's not much use in oul starting at all,” she said. “We've been learning that new game ot Badminton down here, gnd the afternoon slipped away before we realized it. Cassie and Lovey want me to tell you how sorry they are not to be ahle to see you, darling. and we do hope youre not disap- pointed. Ask us again, won't you? And better luck next time——" Emmy sighed as she hung up the receiver upon the sound of the gay, light voica. . It came to her with the force of a blow that she had no part in the lives of those three people who represented “her own kind.” She was still an outsia- spie of her deliverance from Flow- er street and the little yellow house. They had their own life—therr bridge, their Badminton, their par- tles—and she had hers. And that was the beginning and the end of lit. “If T had money I would be one of them.” she thought, with some Litterness, as she sat down alone to'eat the little cakes and some ot the sandwiches. “If T had their kind of clothes and cars and houses, things would be smooth sailing for me. But family doesn't count for much if you don't have the money to back it up, and I haven't. Now, if T were married to a man like Wells Harbison—-" She caught her breath over that thought, so daring was it. “But I'm not,” she told herrelf. “I'm nothing but a working woman, ' even if T am Marianna's cousin, and I'd better try to remember it and be sensible.” She gave herself a mental shak- ing and tried to forget the whole happening in an hour's hard prac- ticing. But she could not forget it. She was so hurt that her heart seemed actually to ache in her breast. And when she finished the chicken sandwiches that night be- fore she went to bed they v-ere like sawdust and dead-sea fruit in her mouth. . . . She had not realized | herself, until then, how much she had counted upon that tea and upon the friondship and recognition e, “her own kind of people.” One night she came home from the office to find Mrs. Milburn wait- ing for her in the tiny hall at the head of the stairs. She was in her | widow's weeds that had been Grand- mother Pentland's widow's weeds years and years before, and she was Isitting on the top step of the stairs holding her Thomas & Kempis in her Eblack-gloved hands. “Well, how's my big girl?” she greeted her, jumping up with that amazing lightness of hers, She followed Emmy into the room that overlooked the park, and stood, with her little shoulders against the door, gazing around its walls. Her eyes were very wide. In the low: afternoon sunlight the place had an unmistakable air of luxury, with fresh yellow roses on the table, the tea tray with the sil- ver kettle gleamirg on ft, the radio, the baby-grand piano with its Span- ish shawl, the costly cigarette Lox and ash trays of Chinese enamel that had been gifts of Wells Harbi- son's from time to time. “My goodness me, Emmy! How much do you have torpay for this place?” she asked. “It seems very elegant to me.” ! Feeling extremely guilty, and as if | !she had something to hide, Emmy | i WAMAN OF FIFTY {Lynn, former | First Christian church there, and her er, so far as they were concerned, in | ,for him, when W her fingers. Emmy nodded her pretty head. “1 do,” she said, quietly. ‘The old look of anxiety and dis- may came into her mother's face for a moment. “1 knew it was that when you didn’t come home to us for supper once or twice a week, as you promised you would,” she said, and then: “I think you'd better give up all this"—her glance awept the room—*and come home to live, even it home isn't the Crystal Palace. I'm unhappy about you, living here alone, with this man you work 1or coming here to see you. I don't like it.” Her eyes had found Harbison's pipe, and his blue tin of tobacco tn their place on the window sill. Emmy threw her chin up de. fiantly. “There's not a reason om earth why he shouldn't"come here,” she said. “We're free agents, both of us, and he's just the finest kind of man, Mother. He's given me a raise in my salary so 1 can go on with my singing lessons. He says 1 have a marvelous voice, and he's going to see to it that I don't ne- glect it—and that's more than any- body else is doing for me, or ever has done. He takes a real interest in me, and so long as he wants to come here I'm going to let him!" Mrs. Milburn gently closed volume of Jean Christophe, ana laid it back upon the table, She clasped her hands in her lap, look- ing down at them, frowning and thin'§ng hard. Presently she lifted her 'and, and Emmy saw her draw a logr breath. “Well, my dear” she began, with an air of having something to say that she did not want to say, “I'm going to be very honest with you. . . . You haven't a wonderful voice. Mind, it's a good voice, and a pretty volce, but !t's not big enovgh to be great, and it never will be great—not if it's trained for twen- ty years. And if that man knows anything at all about voices, Em- my, he knows he's flattering you when he says it 18 wonderful!” (TO BE CONTINUED) WEDS YOUTH OF 21 Embark on Honeymoon Entirely| Oblivious of Criticism Boston, Dec. 3 (F—A 50-year-old bride, Mrs. Theresa Eliza Deane, of assistant pastor of ar-old husband and late Sun- day school pupil, Leonard Clarke Wade of Swampscott, were embark- ed on & honeymoon today oblivious, apparently, to all criticism. Nothing to Say “There is nothing we care to say,” the bride announced to news- papermen shortly before their train pulled out of the South station while her husband, looking more like her son, lacked the assurance of his wife, Yes, you are dismissed.” In Swampscott, young Wade's par- ents were endeavoring to find some | grounds for annulment but without much success since, it was said, both principals had complied with all legal formalities. ‘Wade's mother was said to have informed her son that she was sorry he announced his marriage over the telephone, while Mrs. Wade's 20-year-old son, Cecil Deane, declared he had told his mother *'She must have been crazy.” Mistakes Bridegroom The marriage was performed late Saturday night at West Newbury by the Rev. Glen Morse, who was said ito have occasioned momentary con- fusion by failing to identify young Wade as the bridegroom and to have addressed his opening remarks to the comparatively elderly man, Samuel D. Twombley of Salem. Mr. Twombley's wife attended the bride. Mrs. Wade, a widow, with two adult children, first met young Wade when he came to her Sunday achool class at the age of 14, and their friendship continued after the then Mrs. Deane had resigned her posi- tions at the church. Wade attained his legal majority only last Sunday. Vare’s Seat to Be Vacant in Senate Washington, Dec. 3 P—The sci in the senate to which William 8. Vare, of Pennsylvania, was elected will be vacant again today as the seventieth congress mects for its ncluding session. Nor does there appear to be a likelihood that this long standing dispute will be settled before the newly-elected congress comes into office. Two contests still face Mr. Vare, who is so ill at his Philadelphia home that he could not occupy his seat tomorrow were he permitted. Final reports are awaited from the Reed campaign expenditures com- mittee which protested the expendi- tures of Vare in his primary cam- paign and from the senate elections committee considering the contest of William B. Wilson, democratic op- ponent of Vare. REPORTS $20 THEFT James Sullivan of Greenwood street complained to Officer John V. Riley early yesterday morning that James Jensen of 12 Main street stole $20 out of his pocket while they were standing on Main street. Jensen denied the allegation and had only $3.50 when searched by the police. A third young man who was present also submitted to | told her how much rent she paid. “I don't see how they let you have | it for that much money. It's very |grand,” Mrs. Milburn answered her shaking her head doubtfully. Her eyes went to the threc vo! umes of Wells Harbison's Jea: Christophe that lay upon the tabls near the howl of yellow roses. 8h. picked one of them up. “What books are these?” she wanted to know. She was alwayw interested in books. “Are they writ- ten in French, for goodness' sake?” She opened it to find out. and came upon Harbison's name written upon the fly leaf. Her mouth tightened at its tender corners. “Do you see a great deal of thi man—this Mr. Harbison, Emmy she asked. tapping the page a search. PINKHAN RS the ; added in a tone that| married | ELKS KEEP FRESH MEMORY OF DEAD Annual Tribute Paid to Deceased Members of Lodge Tribute was paid to the memory of 134 members of New Britain Lodge of Elks who have died since the lodge was established in this nual ceremonial took place with Joseph G. Woods, prosecuting attor- ey, as the speaker. Henry C. Baum was the vocalist on the program, and he was assisted by Organist William H. Bishop. ' Ex- alted Ruler 8. Gerard Casale and subordinate officers of the lodge took part in the exercises, and prayer was led by Royal G. Wilbur. In charge of the program was the following committee: O. Lambert Lord, Lopis W. Fodt, Thomas J. Ca- belus, R. G. Wilbur, Stanley F. Gier- ymski and William H. Bishop. Attorney Woods Address The memorial address on “Im- mortality’ was delivered by Past was in part, as follows: “Today this great organization is responding to the call of fellowship. In more than fifteen hundred diff- erent places in our country, the friends and neighbors of this order are assembled together to renew in a fitting manner their allegiance to the memory of those who have passed into the Great Beyond. It 18 a magnificent tribute to the power of sentiment and a noble recognition of the rightful claims of our com- mon humanity. At such time as this the heart learns a new tender- ness and the old lessons almost for- | gotten come back to strengthen and inspire us. “But we are told that this is pre- eminently a practical age. Men pride themselves most of all upon their accomplighments in the world of events. In that field success is |the measure of achievement and failure is dreaded men dread disease. Hundreds of thousands of our countrymen live close to the hunger line, and millions engage in daily struggle with the problem of existence. They bear their burdens of care and pain and have but scant time to give to thoughts beyond themselves or beyond the need of the hour. “The commercial struggle for su- premacy, the daily competitions of trade and the ever present necessity of earning a living, too often set in motion forces that breed a distrust of life, discontent with social obliga- tions and unbelief in intangibie things. “And yet we know that material things alone will not suffice. After | the master had fasted for forty days in the wilderness this spirit of evil came to him to tempt him saying: If thou be the son of God comnand that these stones be made bread, and Christ replied, ‘It is writf man shall not live by broad alone. “My friends, T have come today to say something about the prac- ticability of impractical thing something about the reality of ideal- ism: something about the higher needs and the finer attributes of humanity; and something about its courage, its faith, its hope. It is the brave heart of the world that has made the creeds of fear and despair no longer credible. Man is finer than man's thought of man: the dynamic power of sentiment con- stitutes one of the wonders of the world. “Carlyle uttered a profound truth when he said: ‘They wrong man greatly, who say he i to be seduced by ease. Difficulty, abnegnation, martyrdom, death ‘are the allure- ments that act on the heart of man. Kindle the inner general life and you have a flame that burns up all lower considerations.’ “Here we are, a few in that great multitude, who gather today about the grave, paying our last tribute to those who have gone before and peering with curious eyes into the mists which cover them. “In the presence of the helpless dignity of the dead shall we not | gather some knowledge of the dig- {nity of life. some courage to mest | the problems of the day, some hope for the future? “Infame a man's mind with some great hope; fill his soul with some great love: torfure his heart with |some great grief; and you will make {him understand how hopelessly in- adequate, how pathetically insuffi- |cient, are the crucible and scalpel. {and will enable him to turn trusting cves on the great depths of eternity. Logic cannot convince, because men cannot stand upon the same ground nor see with the same eyes.. It is the great facts coming into our own | | I UR methods in- sure sanitary and thorough laundry work, and the fact that each family bundle is handled separately assures you of high-grade service. “Try Our Way Today' city, last night at B. P, O. E. home ' on Washington street, when the an- | Exalted Ruler Joseph G. Woods, and | not so much the theologian, as it is | lives, which convince; and grief and hope and love and death are the greatest of all facts. The hope of immortality is the grandest star, that ever swung across the night of man's dark mind. It has been beautifully said that belief in fmmortality is the loftiest fiight of sympathy and the final answer to all that hold life to be cruel and unjust. “The earth has many little cross- es on her breast’ and he who has stood mute lipped with pain and watched the heavy lidded, pulseless sleep of death, propounds strange queries to the universe, at such times the soul puts forth its ques- tioning, like the white dove from the ark, over the waste of the world, and brings back the answer of good cheer to a mind not cursed, but {made acute by pain, the simple, natural things of life, such as ihe flowers that the little children bring {home in the spring, possess a strange significance. | “Man's earthly life Is a checkered scene thrown upon the canvas of itime, here with light, there the shade, alternating to make up the composite picture. “Life, indeed, is in keeping with ' the phenomena which nature un- folds in the revolution of planets, worlds and systems around the or- bits of their being. “Man must fulfill the end of his being—that end is union with its |source. To reach it he must expel ience many and various vicissitude There are days of darkness, days of travail, when the star of hope seems to be surrounded with the gloom of a perpetual night. Yet beyond the blackness there is light and its beam eventually breaks through to il- lumine the path that leads from the vale of sorrow to the shining heights of happiness. “The soul of man is great and generous, admitting no other bhounds to be set to her than what are com- mon with God. She claims for her country the universe, the whole con- and the seas, wherein the air, e pending itself between the earth and the heavens conjoins them both. Nor does she suffer herself to be con- fined to any number of years. All years, says she, are mine. No age is locked up from the penetration of learned men—no time 8o distant or dark that it is not previous to thought. “When the day shall come that will separate this composition, hu- man and divine, T will leave this body here where I found it, and re- turn to the Gods. Not that 1 am al- together absent from them now, though detained from superior hap- piness by the heavy earth clog. This short stay in mortal life is but the prelude to a better and more lasting life above. 0 man of imagination can note the change in the seasons, the per- ennial life of the world, the starting buds of May and the tender shoots seeking the sun; or can it gaze upon the dear delight of spring's sweet face, without knowing that the part- ing in the winter of life is not & parting for all time. There is no an- | nihitation in nature and even in de- cay there are hints of the resurrec- tion. We see but a part of things. That which is hidden is greater than that which is revealed. Who familiar only with the sights of the day could guess the wonders of the night? Hidden in the rays of the deceiving sun, are hesperus and all the hosts of heaven. Who knows the secrets of the seas and of the skies; and who {is there in authority to deny to the human heart its right to courage and its right to hope, let us then believe that our departed friends have earn- ed their rest and have entered into the peace that mortals can but faint- ly know; a peace that abideth when the soul is open toward the heayens; the peace that waits upon— ‘The lone Star and the shadowed hush, That comes at even when the thrush, Ravels the day, 50 worn and 50 long. Into the silver of a song.’ “My friends, as we review the names of the members who have passed away since the institution of this lodge, behold how numerous they are and how they make our annals shine. “We shall see their faces no more, and we shall hear no more the mu- Isic of their lips but the message of | their lives shall be pondered in our ihearts and memory. | [ You'll Think It's New— When that dress comes back from our expert's hands you'll think it is as new as when you bought it. Get out your old Dresses or Suits and send them to us. We'll pick them up and get them back to you overnight. Ladies’ and Gents’ Suits Dry Cleaned and Pressed $1.00 Star Cleaning Company Cleaners and Dyers Tel. 1075—1076 Factory—234 North St. Branches—298 Main St. and 688 North Main St. mlhl:-rl {vex wherein are included the lands| TAX BILLS PAID EXCEPT $168.06¢ Collector Loomis Takes in $39,577 During Past Month Payments into the city treasury of $39,577.97 in the month of No vember leave but $168,084.55 in this year's property taxes remain- ing on the books of Collector Ber- nadotte Loomis, he reported today. The collections, which were $7.- .19 less than in November of last year, when $46,705.16 was taken off the books by reason of payments, were as follows: Prop- erty, $35,700.65; sewers, $2,760.34; street improvements, $65 street sprinkling, $28.21; personal, $430.50, In the two-thirds of the fiscal vear which have passed, the collec- tor's office has handled $2,817,9 84, an increase of $75.309.49 ove the corresponding period in 19 the receipts of which were $2, 645.35. This year's report shows .903 collected as against .913 for last vear. The 1927 ratebook called for $2,833,201.22, while this year the collector is expected to bring in $2,965,638.73, an increasc of $1 l ¥rom all sources, Collector Loom- is has on his books a total of $439.- 800,53, itemized as follows: Prop- erty, $396,308.01; sewer, $19,22% 20; street improvements, street sprinkling, $585 sonal, $200.50. THANKSKIVING TRIP FATALTOW. A. COOK Dies From Strain of Journey In his anxiety to be with his brother and other relatives in therr annual Thanksgiving reunion. Wal- lace A. Cook, 56 years old, of Green- field, Mass., decided to pay a vis despite the fact that he had fully recovered from an attack of pneumonia. After arriving at the home of his brother, Harris J. Co of 74 Golf street, Maple Hill, suffered serious attacks from whicn he was not strong enough to rally. E died Saturday night. He was born in Haddam Neck, March 16, 1872, He w well known in Greenfield and wus active in the Republican Lodge of Masons and the Greenfield lodge, B. P. O. E. He was mechanical engineer of the Bay State Tap & Die Co. of Mansfield, Mass, Surviving him are his wife, a son, Alton W. Cook; two brothe Har- ris J. Cook, and Irving J. Cook, and two grandchildren. Funeral services were held this afternoon at 1:30 o'clock in the fu- neral parlors of B. C. Porter Sons funeral parlors at 19 Court streef. Rev. Walter Pickering of the Meth- odist church in Higganum will offi- ciate. Burial will be in Higganum. Search for Youths to Clear Up Murder Case Clinton, Mass., Dec. 3. (B—Two 18 year old boys, escaped inmates of the Shirley Industrial School, were the objects of a search yesterday by the state police and officers of Cli ton, Leominster and Fitchburg worl ing to solve the mystery surrounding the murder here Saturday night of Cosimo Milyaro, 63, proprietor of a fruit and confectionery store. The centering of the efforts of the police on the two young men fol- | | | Cougire from colis may icad to se. rious trouble. You can stop them now with Creomulsion, an emulsified creosote that is pleasant to take. Creomulsion is a medical discovery with two-fold action; it soothes and heals the inflamed membranes and in- hibits germ growth. Of all known drugs creosote is rec- ognized by high medical authorities as one of the greatest healing agencies for coughs from colds and bronchial irritations. Creomulsion contains, in addition to creosote, other healing Invest in Mutual Sys! GET 6%, AS SOON AS Gonvalescing From Pneumonia, : not | 11 s —————— |lowed a day-long scouring of een- tral Massachusetts, which saw every resource of local and state police brought into play. Believing that the mystery could be cleared up in com- paratively short time if they could find the automobile in which the two | slayers made good their escape after shooting Milyaro on the steps of his | store, the authorities checked up all | cars answering the description, but | eliminated practically all of these. |The car was of special design of | which there are but 30 in the state. JAPATHA LEADING - DEMOCRATS' CLUB New Polish Organization Starts i With Membership of 78 Alderman Frank Zapatka was | chosen chairman pro tem, of the new Polish Democratic club which was formed last night at a public meet- ing held at the Falcon hall on Broad street. The meeting sponsored by leaders of democratic circles was at- |tended by over 100 citizens of Polish extraction and the present roll call |includes 78 members, who registered {last night. No officers were chosen as yet the matter being left to a committes of 10, which will meet within a fort- night to draw up the constitution and by-laws, and the election of officers will take place at the next mecting, which will be after New Year's. Councilman Lucian Macora | was chosen secretary of the com- nittee and the other members are Paulin Nurczyk, Mrs, Wladyslawa {Duch, John Kulpa, Joseph | Stachowiak, Mrs. Sophie Cendrow- {ski, Selectman Casimir Majewicz, Mrs. M. Gorlawski and Joseph Kozikowski, Alderman Zapatka presided over s meeting and called upon O'Brien, local Americani- director, who outlined th work of that department and ex- tended his good wishes to the new- ly organized club. Dr. Walter Blogoslawski and Paulin Nurczyk were the other speakers of the eve- |ning. They dwelt chiefly on the |necessity of organizing a Polish | democratic club and outlined its pur- poses. | The formation of the new club {fills a need in the Fifth ward, it is said, as hitherto the Polish voters of democratic principles depended mainly on the leadership of & few and casual meetings. The formation of a Polish democratfe club will from !now on bring the individuals in closer contact and matters of greater |and vital importance to the voters lin that section of the city may be |discussed more freely and at closer intervals. No definite name for the newly organized club has been se- lected, that heing left to the com- | mittee to decide in the by-laws and the matter will be taken up and vot- ed upon at the next regular meeting. F reighters Report They Don’t Need Aid | St Johns, N. I, Dec. 3P— Two | freighters reported in distress yes- terday off the Newfoundland coast were on their way to safety last | night. < | The Norweigan freighter Gyva- dore, which had sent word she was drifting toward Allan Island with broken stecring gear, reported that repairs had been completed and she | was continuing on her way to Lon- | don. The Swedish steamer Kiruna, after springing a leak on her way from | Botwood to Rotterdam, was return- | ing to Botwood in tow of the steamer | Kyle, expecting to arrive in the early | today. | READ HERALD CLASSIFIED ADS " TOR Bl RESULTS A THREE DAYS’' COUGH IS YOUR DANGER SIGNAL elements which soothe and heal the inflamed membranes and ritation, while the creosote goes on to the stomach, is blood. attacks the seat and checks the growth Creomulsion i tem Thrift Bonds and INTEREST MUTUAL SYSTEM THRIFT BONDS may be bought on . the convenient weekly or monthly club payment plan. $1.00 a week for 50 weeks will pay for ten Thrift Bonds. ‘YOU HAVE $5.00 PAID IN, IT BEGINS TO DRAW INTEREST AT 6 PER CENT The MUTUAL SYSTEM Room 202—2nd Floor 300 MAIN ST., LEONARD BLDG. (Look for the red and white sign) TELEPHONE 4950 Hours—9 a. m. to 5 p. m., daily—Saturdays 9a.m.te 1 p. m. Open Monday Evenings Until 8 o'Cleck