The Nocona News. (Nocona, Tex.), Vol. 9, No. 20, Ed. 1 Friday, October 24, 1913 Page: 3 of 8
This newspaper is part of the collection entitled: Montague County Area Newspaper Collection and was provided to The Portal to Texas History by the Friends of the Nocona Public Library.
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BY
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SYNOPSIS.
~>
it
“Up, Samson.
serenely:
superlative? I
“Down
the
ex
to
Fran
’■
I
you.
about his
SHOW
>
A
i
==
Mr
IV
“Up, Samson, Upl"
CHAPTER XXIV.
I never saw any-
lookins
hill* (
• hoar*.
' : ..
MSilNIW
r
OUCH! BACKACHE,
RUB LAME BACK
Mr* Wlnale*** Boo*kla* Syrae tar OVtMraa*
twtklB*. *ofMM Ik* raaa, radar** IsAmub*-
M*e,*l ley ■ paia^ara* wia* *•>!• JB* * kesttsto
Rub pain away with a small
trial bottle of old
“St. Jacobs Oil”
■ < ■ ■
nJ prove
and soft
;lected or
nt—that'a
wling So-
Istnbuteil
ith you."
nly about
sand my-
men who
., ■
Make It
t—Try
IR
RUFF
onderful
Hu-
But oh, I am ao (lad, so glad—and
God answered my prayer and saved
you. Fran—my daughter!”
never
been
He
me
Men
Norfolk, Vs., Seek Satisfaction
From Authorities.
(COPyQlGHI 1912
BOBBS-MEPCILL CO.)
The Roeth A fries ones are eisd Is
"troseers" is ward st Use rsvs*Mi to
the issue fly.
In a year Turkey produce* approx!
maiely 100,000 Salsa of wool of tM
pounds each
Look Yearn Youngerl Try Grandma's
- Recipe of Sage and Sulphur
and Nobody Will Know.
Financial.
Knlcker—Think the treasury dopes
Its will cause credit Inflation?
Docker—Nope; 1 struck Smith tor s
flver yesterday and didn't get IL
SAGE TEA AND SULPHUR
DARKENS YOUR GRAY HAIR
.man »i*
ibout his
ihow her
emi-rural
On vlslt-
le enrap-
ally well
oman ei
bat beau-
as a cat
after loa-
□ rling up
ig to the
chicken.
its featb-
i noise it
sanda of
ilth and
It is ef
ng else
Igestion.
!i. ner
I Kidney
> by It.
invite.'.
n be ole
einediea
louatoa.
he
was
his
“I was strong
"Yes, that’s It.
friends
grow
said
liven tn
n to be
display
nown as
No. 123
ing. has
A ca-
answer
Crude
t of the
• will be
t opera
K-ess by
d is ex-
would
us,"
LIKE PIRATE DAYS OF OLD °n
i
//„
iseum)—
wned by
"Pshaw!
of our
the lead
to check
e out of
VT-. -' ,
across a
gainst a
ed to go
died the
.. better
w ln-r>
E- ELLIS
JOHNBREC
ii
A
I
Una farmer, and Ebert Cocran. son of
a former Pittsburg banker, told how .
they had been chaughaied at the point
of a pistol and ftirced to work their
way as seamen to Hamburg when they
thought that they were going to ship
to Boston, says the Philadelphia Times.
The Immigration authoritiee are hand-
ling the case and a deputy United
States marshal, accompanied by the
two men, Is on the wey to Norfolk
to arrest the agent who chipped them.
The two young men met last Nov-
ember in Norfolk, Va. Both were out
of employment and sought work about
the docks They were met, according
to their story, by an alleged crew ship-
ping agent, who oflersd to book them
ulusteations by"
O-IKWIN-MYE&S
A laxative today eaves a sick child
tomorrow. Children almply will not
take the time from play to empty their
bowels, which become clogged up with,
waste, liver get* eluggiah; stomach
aour.
Look at the tongue, mother! If eoto
ed, or your child la llstleaa, cross, fev-
erish. breath bad, restless, doesn't eat
heartily, full of cold or has sore throat
or any other children's ailment give a
teaspoonful of “California Syrup of
Figs,” then don't worry, because it is
perfectly harmless, and in a few hours
all this constipation polaon, aour bile
and fermenting waste will gently
move out of the bowels, and you have
a well, playful child again. A thor-
ough “Inside cleansing” is oftlmes all
that is necessary. It should be th*
first treatment given in any sickness.
Beware of counterfeit fig syrups.
Ask at the store for a 50-cent bottle of
“California Syrup of Figs,” which has
full directions for babies, children of
all ages and for grown-ups plainly
printed on the bottle. Adv.
When your back is sore and lame
or lumbago, sciatica o> rheumatism
has you stiffened don’t suffer! Get
a small trial bottle of old, honest “St.
Jacobs Oil” at any store, pour a little
in your hand and rub it right
back, and by the time you count fifty,
the soreness is gone.
Don’t stay crippled! This soothing,
penetrating oil takes the ache and
pain right out and ends the misery.
It is magical, yet absolutely harmless
and doesn't burn the skin.
Nothing else stops lumbago, sciatica
and lame back misery go promptly and
surely. It never disappoints!
Almost everyone knows that Sagw
Tea and Sulphur, properly compound-
ed, brings back the natural color and
lustre to the hair when faded, streaked
or gray; also ends dandruff itching
scalp and stops falling hair. Years
ago the only way to get this mixture
was to make It at home, which is
mussy and troublesome.
Nowadays we simply ask at any
drug store for "Wyeth's Sage and Sul-
phur Hair Remedy." You will get a
large bottle for about 50 cents. Every-
body uses this old, famous recipe, be-
cause no one can possibly tell that
you darkened your hair, ae It doea it
so naturally and evenly. Yon dampen
a sponge or soft brush with it and
draw this through your hair, taking
one email strand at a time; by morn-
ing the gray hair disappears, and
after another application or two, your
hair becomes beautifully dark, thick
and glossy and you look years young*
CHIUrSJONGHE
If cross, feverish, constipated,
give “California Syrup
of Figs” (
Oil From Tree*.
The Chinese wood-oil tree is the
subject of a circular by David Fair-
child, recently published by the U. fl-
bureau of plant Industry, the purpose
of the publication being to advocate
an extensive cultivation of the tree
in this country, where it has been
grown in a small way since 1908.
The Importance of this recommenda-
tion is shown by the fact that five
million gallons of wood oil (also
known as tung oil), made from the
seeds of this plant, was Imported from
China last year, and the product la
said to have had a revolutionary ef-
fect on the varnish industry of the
United States.
thrusting
her hands.
Even now, the bars divide us.
SHSESSB '
MOTHER! LOOK AT
B« rar* that you uk for Wright'* lodlaa
Vi>irel*l>l« 1'111*, *n<i look for th* line
lur* of Win. Wrlgbt on wrapper *n<t bos.
For Conallpndun, Bllloussass Nid Imllgea
Uuo. Adv.
ers. The
es in the
dos. have
ac.-d zeal
co.-s rep-
nent and
parable,
je to the
d his tig-
our first
•ri?
CHAPTER XXIII.—Continued.
He met her eyes unfalteringly. “It’s
already nine o’clock.” he said with sin-
gular composure. “Don’t forget nine-
thirty.”
Then he disappeared In the crowd.
Then, to her amazement, she beheld
Hamilton Gregory stumbling toward
ber, looking neither to right nor left,
seeing none but her—Hamilton Greg-
ory at a show! Hamilton Gregory
here, ef all places, his eyes wide, his
head thrown back as if to bare his
face to her startled gaze.
“Fran!" cried Gregory,
Torth his arms to take
•Fran!
aa
just big
I rented
it at once—of course, it oughn’t to be
standing there idle—there’s such a
fragrant flower garden—I spent some
time arranging the grounds as I think
you’ll like them,
cottage, though.
[,plication
i a single
hair and
what will
ter a few
new hair,
but real-
over the
heard
somebody.”
Fran slipped her
neck,
long to you.
home is our home.
Abbott, frith a sober sense of his
unworthiness, embraced her silently.
From far below came a sudden
sound, making its way through the
continuity of the street-uproar. It was
the chugging of the engine.
The wheel began to revolve.
Down they came—down—down—
Fran looked up at the moon. "Good-
by," she called, gaily. "The world is
good enough for me!”
(THE END.)
arms
"And what a somebody! To be-
And to know that my
face with her hands and bent her head
instinctively.
“Up!” cried Abbott,
up!"
Fran laughed hilariously, and lifted
her head. She looked at him through
her fingers. Her face was a garden of
blush-roses. She pretended to roar
but the result was tot terrifying; then
she obediently held up her mouth.
“After all,” said Fran, speaking
somewhat Indistinctly, “you haven’t
told why you ran away to leave poor
Fran guessing where you’d gone. Do
you know how I love you. Abbott?”
"I think I know.”
It was a good while later that Ab-
bott said: "As to why I left Little-
burg: Bob knew of a private school
that has just been Incorporated as a
college. A teacher’s needed, one with
ideas of the new education—the edu-
cation that teaches us how to make
books useful to life, and not life to
books—the education that teachSs
happiness as well as words and fig-
ures; just the kind that you didn’t find
at my school, little rebel! Bob was an
old chum of the man who owns the
property so he recommended me. and
It’s a great chance, a magnlfl
tory—poor Bob!
he was trying to get religion?
afraid he'll conclude that religion
isn’t what he thought it was, living so
close to it from now on."
"All this interests me greatly, dear,
because it interests you. Still, it
doesn’t bear upon the main question.”
“Abbott, you don’t know why I went
to that show to act. You thought I
was caring for a sick friend. What do
you think of such deceptions?”
“I think I understand. Simon Jef-
ferson told me of a girl falling from a
trapeze; it was possibiy La Gonizetti’s
daughter. Mrs. Jefferson told me that
Mrs. Gregory Is nursing some
The same one, I imagine. And La Goff- | . . . as Mr. Smookins;
izettl was a friend of yours, and you j enough for a girl like Fran,
took her place, so the mother could
stay with the injured daughter."
“You’re a wonder, yourself!"
declared, dropping her hands to stare
at him. “Yes, that's it. All these
show-people are friends of mine.
When the mayor was trying to decldg
what carnival company they’d have
for the street fair, I told him about
this show, and that’s why it’s here.
Poor La Gonizetti needs the money
dreadfully—for they spend it as fast
as it’s paid in. The little darling will
have to go to a hospital, and there’s
nothing laid by. The boys all tbrew
in, but they didn’t have much, them-
selves. Nobody has. Everybody’s poor
in this old world—except you and me.
I’ve taken La Gonizetti’s place in the
cage all day to keep her from losing
out; and if this wasn't the last day,
I don't know whether I'd have prom-
ised you or not . . . Samson was
pretty good, but that mask annoyed
him. So you see—but honestly, Ab-
bott, doesn’t ail this make you feel just
a wee bit different about me?"
“It makes me want to kiss
Fran.”
"It makes you”—she gasped—"want
to do—-that? Why, Abbott! Nothing
can save you."
"I'm afraid not,” he agreed.
The car was swinging at the highest
reach of the wheel. The engine
stopped.
She opened her eyes very wide. "I’d
think you'd be afraid of such a world-
famous lion-trainer,” she declared,
drawing back. “Some have been, I
assure you.”
"I’m not afraid," Abbott declared,
drawing her toward him. He would
have kissed her. but she covered her
I need
Fran arrive* at Hamilton Gregory**
Borne in Littleburg, but find* him absent
•conducting the choir at a camp meeting.
She repair* thither In search of hlm.MS
laughs during the service and 1* asked toto
leave. Abbott Ashton, superintendent of
school*, escort* Fran from the tent. He
tells her Gregory 1* a wealthy man.
•deeply Interested in charity work, and a
pillar of the church. Ashton become*
greatly interested in Fran and while tak-
ing leave of her. hold* her hand and 1*
•een by Sapphire Clinton, slater of Kob-
-art Clinton, chairman of the school board.
Fran tell* Gregory she wants a home
with him. Grace Noir, Gregory’* private
•ecretary. takes a violent dislike to Fran
and advise* her to go away at onca.
Fran hint* at a twenty-year-old *ecret.
and Gregory In agitation asks Grace to
laave the room. Fran relates the story
of how Gregory married a young girl at
Springfield while attending college and
then deserted her. Fran I* the child of
that marriage. Gregory had married hl*
present wife three years before the death
-of Fran'* mother. Fran takes a liking to
Mr*. Gregory. Gregory explain* that
Fran t* the daughter of a very dear friend
who I* dead. Fran agrees to the story.
Mrs. Gregory Insists on her making her
home with them and takes her to her
arm*. Fran declare* the secretary must
go. Grace begins nagging tactics In an
effort to drive Fran from the Gregory
from*. Abbott, while taking a walk alone
at midnight, finds Fran on a bridge tell-
ing her fortune by cards. She tells Ab-
t>ott that she Is the famous Hon tamer.
Fran Nonpareil, ifhe tired of circus life
and sought a home. Grace decides to ask
Bob Clinton to go to Springfield to inves-
tigate Fran’s »tory. Fran offers tfrr
services to Gregory as secretary during
the temporary absence of Grace. The lat-
ter, hearing of Fran's purpose, returns
and Interrupts a touching scene between
father and daughter. Grace tells Gregory
■he Intends to marry Clinton and quit hts
•srvlce. He declares that he cannot con-
tinue his work without her Carried away
by passion, he takes her In his arms.
Fran walks In on them, and declares that
Grace must leave the bouse at once. To
Gregory's consternation he learns of
Clinton's mission to Springfield. Clinton
returns from Springfield and. nt Fran's
request. Abbott urges him not to discuss
what he has learned On Abbott's assur-
ance that Grace will leave Gregorv at
once. Clinton agrees to keep silent Driv-
en Into a corner by the threat of ex-
posure. Gregorv Is forced to dlamls*
Grace. Grace Is offered the Job of book-
keeper In Clinton's grocery store Greg-
ory’s Infatuation leads him to seek Grace
at th* grocery. He finds her alone and
tells her the story of hl* past Grace
point* out that as he married the pres-
ent Mrs Gregory before the death of
Fran's mother, he Is not now legally mar-
ried. They decide to fie* at once. They
attempt to escape during the excitement
of a street fair and are forced to enter
the lion tent to avoid Clinton Abbott
wanders Into the Hon tent to pass the
time A young woman wearing a mask
is taking the place of th* regular trainer
One of the Hons rebels atvi the trainer re-
move* her mask revealing the features of
Fran. She finally overcomes the brute.
Gregory's eyes are opened to the real na-
ture of Grace a* he sees murder In h*r
eve* during Fran's contest with the Hon.
He tells her all is over between them.
Vindicated.
"I always knew John
up to be a great help to
the fond mother.
“I haven't seen him do any regular
work yet,” replied Farmer CorntosseL
"Well, If you’ll take notice, he’s th*
only person around the place who
knows how to teach the summer
boarders to do the tango and the tu*
key trot”
Near the Sky.
It was half-psst nine when Abbott
net Fran, according to appointment,
before the Snake Den. From her hands
ahe had removed the color of Italy,
and from her body, the glittering rai-
nent of La Ooniiettl.
Fran came up to the young man
from out the crowded street, all qulv-
•ring excitement In contrast with
the pulsing life that ceaselessly
ehangod hsr fees, ns from reflections
of dancing llgbt-pointo, his composure
■bowed ataUMt grotesque
"Hero 1 M*-" shooting n
qulMicftl glaaoe at bls face, “are you
ready for ess? Gone oa, then, aad
lUqiM to* to* rory fltoaa tor *a
itely don-
No dlffer-
Ittle and
oth with
draw it
me small
>ct is 1m-
bair will
1 have an
in incom-
d luxurl-
er of true
I didn't furnish the
Women always like
to select their own carpets and things,
and—”
Fran's face was a dimpled sea of
pink and crimson waves, with starry
lights in her black eyes for signal
lights. "Oh. you king of hearts!" she
exclaimed. “And shall we have a
church wedding, and just kill ’em?”
Abbott laughed boyishly. “No—you
must remember that your connection
with show-life is at an end.”
"But—and then—and so,” cried
Fran rapturously, “I’m to have a home
after all, with flower gardens and
carpets and things—a sure-enough
home—Abbott, a home with you!
Don’t you know, it’s been the dream of
my life to—to—"
Abbott was inexpressibly touched.
“Yes, I was just thinking of what I
you say, once—to belong to
Who Were Shanghaied From <^o‘uli8
The days of the oyster pirates and ]
old wind jammers were recalled when j
could be supported. All in all, he is a
changed man.”
"Then will he acknowledge you?—
but no. no . .
"You see? He can't, on account of
Mrs. Gregory. There's no future for
him, or for her, except to go on living
as man and wife—without the secre-
tary. Me imagines it would be a sort
of reparation to present me to the
world as bis daughter, he thinks it
would give him happiness—but it can't
be. Grace Noir has found it all out—”
"Then she will tell!” Abbott
claimed, in dismay.
"She would have told but for one
thing. She doesn’t dare, and it's on
her own account—of course. She has
been terriblya-well, Indiscreet. You
can't think of what lengths she was
willing to go—not from coldly making
up her mind, but because she lost grip
on herself, from always thinking she
couldn't. So she went away with Bob
Clinton—she’ll marry him, and they’ll
go to Chicago, out of Littleburg his- .
Remember the night I I went.
I’m i cent opening. The man was so pleased
with the way I talked—he’s new to the
business, so that must he his excuse
—that I am to be the president.”
Fran’s voice came rather faintly—
"Hurrah! But you are to be far. far
above my reach, just as I prophesied
Don’t you remember what I said to
you during our drive through Sure-
Enough Country?”
“And that isn’t all," said Abbott,
looking straight before him, and pre-
tending that he had not heard. “In
that town—Tahlelah, Okla.,—I discov-
ered, out in the suburbs, a cottage—
* nursing some one. | the dearest little thing—as dear
imagine. And La Gofl- | ... as Mr.
the steamer Dortmund of the Ham-
burg-American line, which was lying
• The young men were
told that the ship was bound for Bos-
ton. They accompanied the agent to
an office.
They say that they met a Swede on
lit*5 way and he consented to go along.
Walter McGirth, son of a North Caro- The three were asked to sign ship-
ping papers, but the Swede refused to
I Sign until he had read them This
angered the agent, who I* alleged to
have drawn a revolver and knocked
the Swede unconscious.
The young men say that they were
given about $3 worth of clothing and
put aboard the ship. Then they
learned that they were bound tor Ham-
burg instead of Boston, but were
forced to work. When the steamer
reached the other side of the Lt Ian Un
the young men went to Consul Gen-
eral Skinner at Hamburg and
lodged their oomplaint Mr. Skinner
•eat them bark to Chis eoanlry to
make their complaint to th* totatero-
tiotl
unsteadily. "In
don’t see how you can. after that exhi-
bition behind the bars. Anyway, I
want you to talk about yourself. What
made you go away from town? But
that’s not the worst; what made you
stay away? And what were you doing
off there wherever It was, while poor
little girls were wondering themselves
sick about you? But wait!—the
wheel's going down—down—down.
. . . Good thing I have you to hold
to—poor Miss Sapphira, she can’t
come now! Listen at all the street
criers, getting closer, and the whistle
sounds—I wish we had whistles; the
squawky kind. See my element Ab-
bott, the air I’ve breathed all my life—
the carnival. Here we are, just above
the clouds of confetti. . . . Now
we’re riding through . . . pretty
damp, these clouds are, don’t you
think! Those ribbons of electric
lights have been the real world to me.
Abbott—they were home. . . . No,
Bill, we don’t want to get out. We In-
tend to ride unt|l you take this wheel
to pieces. And oh, by the way. Bill—
just stop this wheel, every once in a
while, will you?—when we’re up at the
very tiptop. All right—good-by."
And Abbott called gaily, "Good-by,
Mr. Smookins!"
"I'm glad you did that, Abbott You
think you’re somebody, when some-
body else thinks so, too. Now we’re
rising in the world.” Fran was so ex-
cited that she could not keep her body
from quivering. In spite of this, she
fastened her eyes upon Abbott
ask. suddenly: "'Most'—what?”
“Most adorable," Abbott answered,
as it ha had been waiting for the
prompting. "Most precious. Most be-
witchingly sweet. Most unanswerably
and eternally—Fran!”
“And you—” she whispered.
“And I," he told her, “am nothing
but most wantlng-to-be-loved.”
"It’s so queer,” Fran said, plaintive-
ly. "You know, Abbott, how long
you’ve fought against me. You know
it, and I don’t blame you, not in the
least. There's nothing about me to
make people. . . . But even now,
how can you think you understand me,
when I don’t understand myself?"
"I don’t," he said, promptly. "1’ve
given up trying to understand you
Since then. I’ve just loved. That's
easy.”
"What will people think of a super-
intendent of public schools caring for
a show girl, even If she Is Fran Non-
pareil. How would It affect your ca-
reer?"
"But you have promised never again
to engage tn a show, so you are not a
show-girl.”
"What about my mother who lived
and died as a lion-tamer? What will
you do about my life-history? I’d nev-
er speak to a man who could feel
ashamed of my mother. What about
my father who has never publicly
acknowledged me? I’d not want to
have anything to do with a man who
—who could be proud of him.”
"As to tho past, Fran, I have only
this to say: Whatever hardships it
contained, whatever wrongs or wretch-
edness—it evolved you, you, the Fran
of today—the Fran of this living
hour. And it’s the Fran of this living
hour that I want to marry?”
Fran covered her face with her
hands. For a while there was silence,
then she said:
“Father was there, tonight.”
“At the lion-show? Impossible!
Gregory go to a—a—to—a—”
"Yes, It Is possible for him even to
go to a show. But to do him justice,
he was forced under the tent, he had
no intention of doing anything so
wicked as that, he only meant to do
some little thing like running away—
But no. I can't speak of him with bit-
terness, now. Abbott, he seems all
changed.”
Abbott murmured, as if stupefied:
"Mr. Gregory at a show!"
“Yes, and a lion-show. When It was
over he came to me—he was so ex-
cited—"
“So was L” spoke up the other—
"rather!"
“You didn’t show it. 1 thought
maybe you wouldn't care if I had been
eaten up. • . . No, no, listen,
wanted to claim me—he called
'daughter' right there before the peo-
ple, but they thought it was just a sort
of —of church name. But he wa* won-
derfully moved. 1 left the tent with
him, and we had a tong talk—I came
from him to you.
body so changed."
"But why?"
“You see, he thought I was going to
be killed right there before his eyes,
and seeing It with bls very own eyas
made him feel responsible. Hs told
mo, afterwards, that when bo found
out wbo It was In the cage, be thought
of mother In a different way—ba saw
bow bla doaartlon bad drives bar to
•arsing bar Uviag ihsrstos, a» I
Abbott inquired
there in the Den?"
"No,” she returned, "not in the Den.
You’re no Daniel, if I am a Charmer.
No dens for us.”
"Nor lion cages?" inquired Abbott,
still inscrutable; “never again?”
“Never again.” came her response.
Fran stopped before the Ferris
Wheel.
"Let's take a ride," she said, a little
tremulously. “Won't need tickets. Bill,
stop the wheel; I want to go right up.
This is a friend of mine—Mr. Ashton.
And Abbott, this is an older friend
than you—Mr. Bill Smookins.”
Mr. Bill Smookins was an exceed-
ingly hard-featured man. of no recog-
nizable age. Externally, he was blue
overalls and greasy tar.
Abbott grasped Bill's hand, and In-
quired about business.
“Awful pore, sense Fran lef* the
show,” was the answer, accompanied
by a grin that threatened to cut the
weather-beaten face wide open.
Fran beamed. “Mr. Smookins knew
my mother—didn't you, Bill? He was
awful good to me when I was a kid.
Mr. Smookins was a Human Nymph in
those days, and he smoked and talked,
he did, right down under the water—
remember. Bill? That was sure-enough
water—oh. he's a sure-enough Bill, let
me tell you!”
Bill intimated, as he slowed down
the engine, that the rheumatism
had acquired under the water,
sure-enough rjieumatism—hence
change of occupation,
enough to be a Human Nymph,” he
explained, “but not endurable. Nobody
can’t last many years as a Human
Nymph.”
Abbott Indicated his companion—
"Here’s one that'll last my time.”
The wheel stopped. He and Fran
were barred into a seat.
"And now," Fran exclaimed, "it’s all
ups and downs, just like a moving pic-
ture of life. Why don’t you say some-
thing, Mr. Ashton? But no, you can
keep still—I'm excited to death, and
wouldn't hear you anyway. I want to
do all the talking—I always do, after
I've been in the cage. My brain is
filled with air—so this is the time to
be soaring up into the sky, isn’t it!
What is your brain filled with?—but
never mind. We’ll be just two bal-
loons—my! aren’t you glad we haven’t
any strings on ub—suppose some peo-
ple had hold!—I, for one, would be
willing never to go down again. Where
are the clouds?—Wish we could meet
a few. See how I'm trembling—al-
ways do, after the lions. Now, Abbott,
I’ll leave a small opening for just one
word—”
"I’ll steady you.” said Abbott brief-
ly, and he took her hand. She did not
appear conlcious of his protecting
clasp.
"1 never see the moon so big,” she
went on, breathlessly, “without think-
ing of that night when It rolled along
the pasture as if it wanted to knock
us off the foot-bridge for being where
we oughtn’t. I never could understand
why you should stay on that bridge
with a perfect stranger, when your
duty was to be usher at the camp-meet-
ing! You weren’t ushering me, you
know, you were holding my hand—I
mean, I was holding your hand, as
Miss Sapphira says I shouldn't. What
a poor helpless man—as I'm holding
you now, I presume! But I laughed in
meeting People ought to go outdoors
to smile, and keep their religion in a
house, I guess. I'm going to tell you
why I laughed, for you've
guessed, and you've always
afraid to ask—”
"Afraid of you, Fran?”
“Awfully, 1’tn going to show you—
let go, so I can show you. No, I'm in
earnest—you can have me, afterwards
. . . Remember that evangelist?
There he stood, waving his hands—as
I’m doing now—moving his arms with
his eyes fastened upon the congrega-
tion—this way—look, Abbott.”
"Fran! As if I were not already
looking.”
“Look—just so; not saying a word-
only waving this way and that . . .
And it made me thing of our hypno-
tlser—the man that waves people into
our biggest tent—he seems to pick 'em
up bodily and carry them In his arms.
Well! And if the people are to be
waved Into a church. It won't take
much of a breese to blow them out.
I don't believe in soul waving. But
that doesn't mean that I don’t believe
In the church—doee it?—do you
think r
"You believe In convictions, Fran
And since you’ve come Into the church,
you don't have to say that you believe
In It ”
“Yes—there's nothing on the out-
side, and oh, eometlmee there's eo
little, so little under the roof—what
do you think of ma, Abbott?"
“Fra*, I tbiBk yos are th* moet-"
“flst do you I” she laterpoemL still
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Stump, T. R. The Nocona News. (Nocona, Tex.), Vol. 9, No. 20, Ed. 1 Friday, October 24, 1913, newspaper, October 24, 1913; Nocona, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth1265523/m1/3/?q=music: accessed July 18, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu; crediting Friends of the Nocona Public Library.