The San Antonio Light (San Antonio, Tex.), Vol. 39, No. 342, Ed. 1 Saturday, December 27, 1919 Page: 5 of 10
ten pages : ill. ; page 20 x 17 in. Digitized from 35 mm. microfilm.View a full description of this newspaper.
Extracted Text
The following text was automatically extracted from the image on this page using optical character recognition software:
The Revolt
' of
Susan Hyde
By Carol/b Beecher
Chapter CII.
"e were at breakfast when Nancy
b^maht in the mail and laid it down
by Annville's plate. I noticed a thick
oblong enveloi>e and watched him cu-
riously as he opened it. We had been
talking quite chumily. Eluine bad left
mother's for California the night before.
Lawaon McKee hud been quite obvious
in his attentions to her toward the last.
She said he bad been at the train to bid
her good-bye bis arms laden with mag-
azines candy and fruit. We hud been
discussing them when the mail came.
“I’ve been expecting it” Mauville
Raid. Then; "He’s just the man for her.
They will nrnke a fine couple?”
"See for yourself.” He handed me
the enclosure. It was a wedding invi-
tation Huth Markham and Hunter
Chase. I never shall be able to explain
my action if 1 live to be a hundred years
old. I dropped my bead on my arms and
commenced to sob almost hysterically.
She didn't love Manville after all she
Couldn't if she were going to marry
Chase.
"Susan what w it?” Manvilled rushed
to me. “Are you in pain?”
"No" I sobbed and unable to control
myself in the least 1 burst into a per-
fect passion of weening.
"Susan dear—what is it?” his voice
full of distress.
“Why—l—thought you—oh Man-
ville!”
“Come come Susan." He raised me
from my chair aud half carried half
led me into the library where he laid
me down I sobbing convulsively he
trying to quiet me. "Now dear tell
me what you are crying so about.”
I raised myself aud with an effort
I said once more:
"I thought—you—loved her.”
“Loved her?” He told me afterward
y rnd entirely forgotten the wedding
iffvitation.
"Huth Markham ! I thought that was
the reason you didn't love me like I
wanted you to. You couldn’t you see.
if you loved her.”
“But she is going to be married to
Chase."
“Yes—that is why I am crying—I
am so happy.” Then: “And you called
me 'dear. 11 '
“What has that got to do with it?
Come Susan you are hysterical first
tell me I am in love with Ruth then
talking about calling you dear. Why
shouldn't I?” (
"But you see that was one reason 1
was so unhappy. Even lately I thought
you—loved her. And you never called
me dear like Alfred does June and oh
I wanted you to so much 1”
“You really mean that you thought I
was in love with Ruth Markham—had
been all the time?”
"Yes every one said you were be-
fore you married me. And you went to
sec her aud wouldn’t take me and 1
was so unhappy about other things aud
that made me unhappier and oh—and
everything.” I knew 1 was talking in-
coherently and that I was acting in a
terribly childish manner but I could not
control myself once I had let go.
“You poor child.” He sat down be-
side me. Taking my hand in. a close
clasp he added more to himself than to
me: "You - have been thinking that I
was in love with another woman all
these years. No wonder you were un-
happy. Why didn’t you tell me this be-
fore?” His voice was stern?; tan he
he looked at me with a half smile.
“I couldn't! I wanted you to love me
better than any one. but I didn’t want to
try to compel you to notice me. 1
wanted you to do it well—just because
you w anted to. I hated her most of the
time.”
“Ruth Markham and I have been
friends all our lives practically. I never
once thought of marrying her uor did
she ever think of -me in that way. I am
sure. You were younger than our act:
our club was an old one. I never
dreamed that I was giving you the im-
pression I was in love with Ruth or any
one else because I kept on going. I
fuess 1 have been a pretty bud husband.
haven’t meant to be.”
"Oh you haven't—not lately!
have been wonderful in lots of ways
more wonderful than 1 really cxpect-
*»
“When you wrote that letter” he
interrupted. ~ .
••Yes—than I thought you could be
to me.” .. . -i
“Dear don't you realize that 1
would not have asked you to be my
wife if I had not loved you ?'
"Perhaps. But I wanted so to be
told von loved me and—you never did
—hardly ever. And. oh. Manville I
love you so when you call me dear.
Susan is so horrid and cold.”
"That is very easy to do. I had not
thought- ”He stopped a pained look
on his face. I know he was blaming
himself. . _
"Come let’s go and see Annu. I want
her to know how happy I am.
She always knows when I am cither
happy or unhappy and" has comforted
me many ninny times when I thought
mv heart was breaking.”
’“All right dear but hurry. I must
get downtown.”
Chapter CHI.
k We want into the nursery together.
Anna was playing with her kitten now-
grown until the diminutive no longer
applied. I picked her up and amid
amil<'< nnd tears hugged her close.
“Don't 'ou cy. Mamma. 1 loves ou
she saiil! patting my cheek.
"Father loves me too” I laughed at
Mr. . . v
Do<« ’ou?” she asked turning a sob-
er little face to him.
“Of course I do.”
“Then I loves 'ou. too."
"It. is evidently a case of love mam-
ma or I won't love you.” Manville said
to me. I put Anna down nnd slipped
my hand through his arm. As we went
down the stairs together I said:
“I never shall be unhappy again as
long ns I live.”
"Oh yes. you will. Susan and many
times. The jeopard (meaning me) docs
not easily change his spots you know.
I shall be hard to manage often nnd
will still insist that my wny is best in
Another Story by Carolyn Beecher
Another interesting serial story by Carolyn Beecher
will begin in this newspaper on December 29 In “The
Awakening of Elaine Cadman” the author of “The Revolt
of Susan Hyde” and “A Successful Failure” has several
unusual characters. Although Elaine Cadman had been
reared in an atmosphere of wealth she knew little of the
world when her father’s death left her an orphan in abso-
lute control of his estate. Her experiences before she
learned that all men were not to be judged by the high
standards set by her father furnish material for a story
which never lags in interest.
' SATURDAY.
muny things and shall expect to be
obeyed.”
Manville spoke rather facetiously yet
I knew he meant what he said. If 1
have conveyed the impression that lie
was entirely cured of his dominating
ways was mildly acquiescent. 1 have
done him an injustice in a way. He
was the same masterful man I had mar-
ried in a great many ways. But he bud
not understood could hardly believe that
he had conveyed the idea to me; too
sensitive perhaps that be did not love
rnq and did love another—Ruth Murk-
ham.
He kissed me at the door then said :
"I shall not be at home for dinner.
Aunt is not very well ; nd I will stay
with her.”
I dreadfully wanted him to come
home. I wanted to make the most of
the softness engendered by my emotion
of the morning. But I remembered my
promise and said instead:
“Would you like me to go over?"
“Yes. Run over some time during
the day. Take her something to eat
and some flowers. I wouldn't take
Anna. She might disturb her.”
“Are you worried about Aunt Cyn-
thia Manville?"
“Yes. Sho seems to be growing feeble
very rapidly. I questioned Martha ami
she said she didn’t slbep at ail well
lately and had very little appetite."
"I'll fix her up somebting nice: some
wine jelly or something delicate and
run over before luncheon.”
I did as I had proposed. Aunt Cyuy
thia seemed rather pleased to see me.
She was sitting in a hyge chair by the
window writing materials on her lap.
"Is there anything I can do for you?"
I asked after we bad chatted for a
while and I had told her of Ruth
Markham’s announcement.
"Yes; I wish you would write to
this tiersou who has mv house. He
wants a payment delayed and I want
my money. Tell him so.”
I wrote exactly as she dictated aud
although it seemed a bar^r letter it was
thoroughly businesslike.
When I reached home I had a sur-
prise. It had been but a few weeks
since Elaine bad left us yet she wrote
that Lawson McKee was in California
and that when the year was up she was
going to marry him. I was perfectly
delighted. Even if 1 didn't want to run
away'with him. I liked him immense-
ly. Even though I did not want to mar-
ry him myself he would be a delightful
brother-in-law. Then too 1 felt that I
should see Elaine oftener. I had grown
more fond of her than I ever had been
at home during the time she had visited
me. I felt closer to her after her con-
fession about that "young man” than I
ever had before. It would be delightful
if she and Lawson married and lived in
Newtown or even in her beautiful home
in the country.
Somehow life looked very bright to
me very different. I met Ruth Mark-
ham on my way home and congratulat-
ed her heartily.
"I hope we may be better friends in
the future” she said. "I have always
felt that you did’nt like me although
I could think of nothing I had done.”
"I hope so too” 1 responded with
honesty. I couldn’t tell her that I had
been jealous of her ever since I bad
been married; that I relented her hav-
ing Manville’s pictures; that I had bated
her because I thought my husband in
love with her and that she returned it.
I could only promise myself to try and
make up to her in tbe future for my sus-
picions.
I stopped in at June's. Her baby boy
was just a week old and the very cutest
baby 1 ever had seen excepting Anna.
So j told her.
"Seeing that Anna is. according to
your own story the' only real young
iiaby you ever bad anything to.do with
I don't know as I consider it such a
great compliment for my boy" -She re-
torted.
Timo passed swiftly. The next few
months were busy ami mostly happy
ones. Manville was difficult at times
yet often vnu'd be so tender and so
kind I tried to forget the disagreeable
things which happened and remember
only tiie pleasant. We bad made n fly-
ing trip to the coast Manville Anna
aud 1. He would not stay because of
his anxiety over Aunt Cynthia who had
grown very feeble being confined to her
jied much of the time. She was exact-
ing querulous and it was hard to get
any one but Martha who took any in-
terest in her.
But while we were away we had n
glorious time. Elsa had a lovely home
a fine manly husband nnd two dear
children. She said she had been happy
always; that her busband had never
failed in his kindness toward her. She
said it before Mauville. Wlrn we were
alone he reverted to her praise of her
husband and added:
“You could not say the same could
you Susan?"
"She cun have her husband. I nm
satisfied with mine just as he is" 1
parried.
Aud I was. I loved him always
Lad. I was proud of him even when
he adopted the masterful air. which
sat so well upon him nnd which had
caused me so much unhappiness at
first. Elaine was still with Elsa aud
we had long talks about Lawson Mc-
kce. 1 told her how glad I was she wns
to marry a young man at last and !»•
happy. 1 also told her bow much I
thought of Lawson not. breathing a
word of the little sentimental episodes
between us. I was quite sure Lawson
would Hot.
Wo visited nil the places of interest in
Southern California then with many
regrots returned home. Elaine mill Law-
son wore to be married from our bouse.
Father was still an invalid and mother
too frnil to endure the excitement. They
were very comfortable financially. Hen-
ry had asked Elaine to allow them a
certain amount as long as they lived and
sho had respected his wishes even doing
more than lie suggested.
Even I could see bow appreciably
Aunt Cynthia had failed while we were
nway. Martha said she had missed
Manville terribly; had talked about him
constantly. Now he spent much of Ids
time with her. I also went over every
day. One dny as 1 sat beside her read-
ing to her n sudden impulse seized mo.
I was happy now. I could afford to
dispense happiness to others.
"Would you like to come over and live
in the littie suite Manville made Over
for baby nnd me?” I would not con-
Chapter CIV.
cede it had been for her. In fact 1
did not know if Manville had told her.
"Why Susan — what —do — you
mean?" Big slow tears fell ou her deli-
cate withered hands.
"Just what 1 say. If you would be
l.hppier over with us we will move
you over aud give Mauville a surprise.
Martha aud I can manage it."
"Oh but I never could come buck
here again.” The old spirit was nearly
broken. She was old am! sick. My
own tears almost blinded me as I ex-
plained that she never should go back.
We would move her effect# —things
she treasured —over too.
"1 thought you didn’t want me Su-
san. I don't want to go where I ain not
wanted” with a flare of the old indom-
itable.spirit.
"I do waut you. Aunt Cynthia. Will
you come? 1 am older now. I have learn-
ed many things. You wanted me differ-
ent ; I wanted to change you. We both
Struggled along blindly miserable uheu
if we had made the very best of each
other given in to each other we might
never have been separated."
Martha and I arranged everything.
One night when Manville came in to
dinner I called to him to come upstairs
a moment. I opened the door of the lit-
tle dressing room now Aunt Cynthia's
sitting room just as Manville jiad in-
tended it to be when he altered the
rooms. Aunt was sitting in a big easy
chair by the south window a look of
perfect peace on her handsome aristo-
cratic face. By her side ou a stool
was Anna and the cat was purring at
her side
“.Susan—Aunt —what does it all
mean?” Then as it broke in upon him
that I had done this for him. he gath-
ered me into his arms and held me dose
while be whispered the love words I al-
ways had longed to hear and which he so
seldom used.
There was little explanation little
was needed. Aunt Cynthia would have
her chair in the south window as long
ns she lived. I might have many vexa-
tious days because of the invalid but I
was wiling to even suffer because of the
trust and love which Manville gave me
so freely.
“We have bad our urls and downs
haven't we Susan?” Moville said to
me one night after we had been watch-
ing Aunt Cynthia through one of her
bad spells. But perhaps if We live long
enough we will hit it off together M
well as the average.”
“Isn't riiaeriage a sort of give and
take agreement at beat?” I replied. “I
expected too much gave too little for
the value I desired to receive. Didn’t
you likewise? I believe as June says
that the sunny days always seem sun-
nier after those of gloom. Don’t you
think she is right?”
“Yes dear. I hope yours may now
be all sunshine.”
THE END.
A Bedtime Story
JERRY MUSKRAT NURSES A
SORE TAIL.
By Thornton W. Burgess.
(Copyright 1919 by T. W. Burgess.)
Jerry Muskrat was caught in a cruel
steel trap. He was caught by his tail.
It was a fortunate thing for him that
it was by his tail and not by a leg.
But right nt this time Jerry couldn’t
see anything fortunate in it. In fact
to Jerry’s way of thinking it was un-
fortunate.
Now Jern Muskrat is much more
at home in the water than on land
So He Pulled and Pulled and Pulled
nnd his first impulse in time of danger
is to get into the water at once if he
is not already th°ie. So when that cruel
steel trap caught him .by the tail in its
wicked jaws Jerry plunged back off
the old log into the water -and tried to
swim away.
If ho had only known it this was
just what the. trapper hud expected
him to do nnd hoped he would do.
That trap had been fastened with a
chain in such a way that Jerry could
get into deep water. You see the
trapper hoped that Jerry would drown
himself and Jerry did come pretty
near doing just tlmt thing. He swam
with all his might bpt the trap held
him. and ns he struggled ho lost his
breath and water got up his nose in
such a wav that he choked.
It didn't take him very long to real-
ize that he couldn't pull himseif free
in the water. At first he was in such
a panic of fright that ho didn't use
his wits at all. But after he began
to realize that by struggling in the
water he would simply diown himself
.lorry’s wits began to work. He turned
about and swam back to that old log
and climbed out ou it. There he squat-
ted down and rested to regaiu bis
strength and get his breath.
*‘lt of no use for mo to try to
pull myself free by swimming’* thwnght
Jerry. ••I'm a pretty strong swimmer
hut not strong enough to do that.
Pei haps 1 can pull myself free up
here.”
Ho when he had rested Jerry dug
his claws into the old Ing and pulled
aud pulled. It seemed to him that be
certainly was pulling his tail out by
the roots. But it would be better to
do that and have no tail at nil than
to lose his life. So he putted and
pulled and pulled. By aud by it seem-
ed to him that he felt bis tail slip a
little. That gave him courage and he
pulled harder than ever.
Suddenly he pitched right over ou
bis head and at tbe same time there
was a little snap behind him. He bad
pulled Mis tail free and the jaws of tbe
trap had come together. You see
Jerry’s tail tapers and he bad bceu
caught uot very far from tbe end of
it. It was this which had saved him.
As soou as be felt himself free
Jerry plunged into the water and swam
over to his house. Not until he was«
safely in>idc his bedroom did be look
ut bin tail. The skin bad been torn
by tbe jaws of that trap and the end
of his tail was raw and bleeding. It
was dreadfully sore and ached. Jerry
began to lick it very gently. For the
rest of that day and the following
night Jerry stayed right in his house
and nursed that sore tail. But he had
haved his life so a sore tail didn't mat-
ter much.
Next Story—Jerry Is Filled With Dis-
trust.
THE SAN ANTONIO IJGHT.
The Dream
Cottage
(Copyright 1919 by W. Werner.)
Anne averted her eyes and kuitted in
silence.
“He told me last Sunday mother’*
continued Elizabeth kneading the bread
violently “if he only had not taken
such a dislike to father ’’ She broke
off and closed her lips resolutely.
She was too loyal to put into words
what she and her mother knew. It
was perfectly true that the cost of living
had soared until John’s salary was piti-
fully inadequate—that the extra bod-
room used by the old couple was actu-
ally needed for the children that—but
why go over old arguments that Eliza-
beth had been unsuccessfully refuting
for n month that had dragged its daily
length punctuated with wrangling:-.
John detest'd old Peter Brown nnd had
decided that he would no longer spare
a place for him in his overcrowded
John detested old Peter Brown.
home. He must go to the poor house.
There he could cough without disturb-
ing the family and have the benefit
of tbe country air away from the«smoky
city.
Anne Brown found herself knitting
her thought* into tbe nj cap aba wee
fashioning for little Daisy. In tbe yean
of plenty behind her she had never
guessed that she—proud carefree Anne
—would ever find herself in another’s
home rating the bread of dependence.
In the early years of married life her
brick house had been the center of
gaiety in the small town and she had
Lad everything from an electric range
to a girl to do the housework. Then
her husband had failed and after years
of struggling he was too feeble to work.
The bank account saved for a rainy
day had been cut into many times. First
fnr Elizabeth’s education and later f"s
doctors’ bills.
Now as the two women drearily
discussed the situation with frequent
pauses prompted by a kindliness un-
deserved by the implacable John there
was absolutely no money left for the
Browns.
•*T*II tell ynu. Elizabeth. Would
John be willing to let me go t » Pon-
tiac and leave father here. He can
easily sleep on the dining room couch
aud he can help* you a good deal with
the work “ the nld voice quavered
slightly then stopped. It was a bitter
thought this separating nt their age.
‘ and he doesn't cat nearly us much as
I do ”
•‘Mother.’* Elizabeth gave up and let
the tears have their way; although there
had been no trace of rancor in the
sweet voice she knew the poignant emo-
tions that were racking the motherly
heart. She knew also that. John would
not perm t this arrangement. Her
mother did a groat deal of the work
and took care of the children leaving
Elizabeth free to go out and give music
lessons.
‘‘l'm afraid” she hogan nnd the sil-
ver head nodded understandingly.
“Never mind daughter. Don’t put
it into words: John i* a good man oven
if he is stem and T know father’s pipe
itpaets him. I’ll think of something
nrettjr saon. You seo J cannot let
father gn alone to the noor farm. No
one else knows what to do for him when
ho gets those coughing fits.’*.
The kitchen wa* silent for u time.
A stray bit of sunshine filtered through
th° alley window of the roar flat and
lent a silver mistiness to t^e white
Lend bent over the bright wooT. Eliza-
beth put the bread in the oven and
then looked at her mother: “I hate to
nsk you. but T forgot completely about
John’s shoes. They are tn ho ready
tonight mid I have that pupil here in
ton minutes.**
“I’ll be glad to go nnd cot Jhcm.”
assented Anne pleasantly. althoucHi the
snow wns falling swiftly aid molting
ns it nettled in the March mud.
Peter wns asleep nnd the qld lady
nulled the patchwork quilt up about
Jiis thin shoulders. A bit of scarlet silk
। outlined with feather stitching winked
up at hoi- through a mist nf tems re-
calling the lumpy time when sho had
worn that frock as ho«tosk to a grnun
of her daughter’s school friend*. Sho
nicked up the evenin'* nanor and folded
it thlily. to bo nb'ced in the rack in the
dining room. John wa< of to* annoyed
by Peter’s habit of taking the nnnor
to his room and forgetting to replace
it in the fUo. Her love for IMer wa*
nnrtly material• bn W ns lovin'* and
bnsfv nnd often did Indiscreet thin'*s:
that hnd boon one of the reasons for
his failure in the bnpd’vnrp ^fn^e. Anv-
• •np needing n friend found one in
Veter and his name was too froonehfly
found indorsing dubious nntos flint no*
’nfrcqucntly returned to him for pay-
mon*.
Rlinphig to her knees sh« folded her
tiny hands and made a short almost
incoherent nm^rr. Rhe could «tn»d
anything hut Peter—the rules nnd the
unceasing thou^bf of thp
n»e—that woui4k J H ’’ : m AVoadv.
enjv one month of life in th n crowds 1
oitv. a pensioner nor»n the bounty o r
bis children he hnd foiled pitiful^ pm]
the woman proved almost fiercely for
sojno light. “SurMy there ]« some
thin'* that T ran do tc keen him with
mp.” she said de*ermincdb' n« she nrn“«
a«d nut on her wrans. If the t’-or^i-*
of the cottage she h*d planned with
T’et n r crossed her mind d’d no*
waste time in broodin'*. She hnd s-wm*
her mnnor ungrudHn*lv anno ho- for
i’v and the dreams h^d vani-hc.] wit 1 ’
oyprvthlng c]rp : no wit w-s Ver ^vnrb
to build nfre«h. Pe*ev should never
march io fo mop T < with rows nf n*ho-
wpnry nld mo”. Sho was nnt vp*r p1o«»-
’n her idpes nf fhp nnor farm "nd do”bt-
Ipm imagined mn nv discomforts that
wnuld have nmocM thp nlrnsnnt un-tn-
date manager of the institution hot thn
deenlate picture was vprv rehl to hnr n r
-ho listened to the cough that disturbed
unoesy slumber.
As she fcM“d the nener her eve*
vou^b* the M heln waited” column "nd
h«r dim blue eves brightened pos-
sibly it was the new spectacles that
guided her but she always believed
it to be the prayer.
“Wanted—man and wife to act as
caretakers and take charge of
chickens. Apply at 720 U Harper Street.’
“Chickens; That would be in tbe
country.” sh* thought.
The number was within walking dis-
tance and Anne walked as swiftly aa tbe
slush would permit. In a short time a
whlte-cap|M*d maid admitted her to a
handsome living room where a mon sat
writing busily at a great table.
He rose courteously but in evident
surprise. Anne looked very small and
frail in her black frock and little old
fashioned bonnet but as his gaze swept
the fragile face with the pale rose tint
of excitement lending a fleeting resem-
blance of youth he started:
“Anne after all these years!”
And Anne settled cosily in a big. soft-
ly-cushioDcd chair beside the glowing
fire forgot in the pleasure of friend-
ship renewed her errand. o
“How did you know where we lived?
he queried presently ns he rang for ten.
The pretty pink color faded away. “I
forgot it was so like old times here.
You see ” she stopped hesitant. Sho
could not bring herself to mention a
poor farm in this beautiful homelike
place. Her shabby boot stirred uneasily
upon the orientnl rug and the man
watching her sensed her disquiet.
“You know. Anno” said the big
hearty voice. “I owe Peter more
I can ever nay in mere money. That
time he paid my note for me was the
time that counted big in my business.
Now I want to ”
Anno lifted her head. After all. there
were worse things than poverty. “Phil-
lip. you will perhaps be surprised but
1 called to answer your advertisement
about a caretaker’s position. l>o you
suppose that we would be suitable?'
His big hand reached out and grasped
hers. “Anno that’s the best news I
could have. This cottage was n whim
of Betty’s.’* His gaze wandered to a
great painting that half filled the end
of the large room. ‘‘Before her death
she built it and furnished it hoping
that she would live to try a plan of
hers for young couples who hated the
city. It is really a little dream of a
place and the prettiest flock of white
chickens with rose pink combs and hoi
lyhJcks bordering the picket fence
andL ■■ ■
But Anne could listen no longer. Do
you mean that wo can go there nnd
Peter won’t have to go alone to the
poor farm?’’
The dark face cloudrd at the pitiful
little secret guiltlessly revealed but
he gave no sign of understanding. “It
will bo a great rH’ef to me to have it
off my hands. I haven't been able to
do anything with it and the girl who
hud lived there taking care of . Betty s
chickens is getting married this week
nnd going West so I advert ! se<l. It is
the other side of the Methodist Church
in Franklin ’*
But again th® excited tones inter-
rupted : ‘‘ln Franklin. Phillip?’*
“Yes I thought you knew of it. You
will be right there with your old neigh-
bors— handy for prayer meetings—and
if you caro about money you can have
more than you can spend from the eggs
for they are high this winter. Could
you go at once?’*
It was a radiant Peter who listened
with an incredulous ioyousness paint-
ing out the lines of pain: “It sounds
he said slowly “exactly like your dream
“Anne after all these years.”
cottage Ann". There will be lots of
fun for the children when they come out
jo stay with us."
And Anne agreed dreamily. Already
she saw those beautiful white chickens
with the rose-colored combs whose eggs
would make living a thing of joy-
Just Between Ourselves
By Della E. Stewart.
There are so many of us whose lives
must rgu perforce along the cpmniou
ways. For us uo thrills no special ex-
citemeuts. Work yes plenty of it;
money just enough to worry along ou if
wc use careful economy; cares many
of them. Sdf-tleuials patience endur-
ance—these conic to the thousand^
while tiie care-free existence is seldom
.observed. Ahead of us seems to be
a coining joy ; as wc near it it flees
before us like the miruge of the desert.
\Ve stretch cut our hands only to find
tiiviii clutching space.
What thru? Discouragement lack of
inspiration grumbling unhappiness?
How foolish! They get us nowhere
they make doily life all the harder
darkening it not only for ourselves but
for our families and all those with whom
we associate. What's the use? Tbe
stars are as clear to our eyes as they
are to those witli riches. For us. just
as many beauties of nature. Family
relations can be just as sweet aud sat-
ist^'ing. Never a friendship worth hav-
ing was won or held by money or pos-
ition. All these need not be lacking
however circumscribed our lives may
otherwise be.
Wc need to get over this way of
judging what life bolds for us through
the glass of other people's possessious.
What ueed it mutter to us what this
one or that one has? They in turn
may have lacks as great as ours. Wc
do not wear our hearts our sleeves
neither do they. Life for us bolds joy
of some kind as great as theirs. There
arc compensations for every lack every
loss. Why shut our eyes to them per-
sistently and just as persistently be-
wail our misfortune? How childish
and silly we prove ourselves if we
do!
Girls! Girls!!
Save Your Hair
With Cuticura
Soap nnd O'ntment to dear Da».drnff and itehinj. Be.
each. Saiaplesfreocf CsUcara.D«pt XIUIUb.Km.
The Side Flare
The frock bbuwn in the sketch while
designed (or present season wear really
is an intimation of the silhouette that
is now regarded as the dominant note
of »pring styles. In other words
Frock Featuring Moderate Side Flare.
frocks shbwing a side flare extreme
or moderate with distinctly flat front
and buck effects will hold the center
of th® sartorial stagt. The tendency
is to feature a side fullness rather than
a flare as there i a generoua us® of
material without wiring or other arti-
ficial reinforcement. The result is the
fullness described in many cases a sort
of bunching of the fabric by mean*
of pleats and gathers.
Th® frock sketched may b rt made to
Reflections—
After the Skidding Accident
Reflections that show Weed Tire Chains as the
only real dependable device for the prevention of
skidding do not come to motorists until their bare
rubber tires skid and carry them upon the rocks of
disaster.
How strange it is that some men are never
guided by the experience of others never take the
lesson home to themselves until too late.
They read the newspaper accounts of disastrous
skidding accidents caused by lack of M eed Tire
Chains but they do not heed the warning. >
They wait until the skidding of their own bare
tires results in death injury or car damage before
they realize that tires are safe on wet-slippery-skiddy
roads only when encased in Weed Tire Chains.
Weed Chains on Your Tires
Reflect Your Prudence and Intelligence
Weed Chains are also made to meet the demand for
“ If an efficient traction and anti-skid device fog trucks
t' equipped with single and dual solid tires or with the
M very large pneumatic tires. They are so constructed
that they satisfactorily meet the requirements of
^“-^3 heavy truck service in mud sand or snow.
’riF2Br; AMERICAN chain company inc.
’ - BRIDGEPORT \*/ CONNECTICUT
: v ZlMialiK
1 Largest Chain Manufacturers in the World \
S fl Th* ComrMe Chain Lint — AU Tupt*. Alt SUtt. AU Finitht* - f TT< 1
% ■UkL I From Ptumbm- Saftlu Chain to Ship' Anchor Chain I j^tx - J
gk General Sale. Ofice: Grand Central Terminal New York City \|
District Sales Offices:
7 Boaton Cbioago Philadel»hia AA
Pittsburg Portland. Ore. San Franoiwo ^a.
combine Katin or taffeta or even velvet
and 11 sheer material Much as Georg-
ette chiffon or net and it would be
quite smart for afternoon wear.
Present season frocks by Americana
generally show long sleeves —that is.
tin' froeka designat
ning or dressy afternoon wear. Accord-
ing to nil indicatioaif bowmr* tha prd
udice that has existed in the minds
of American women against the dis-
play of a lons expanse of bare arm. ex-
cept in the evening or in the privacy
of the home ha* Ht last been dispelled
and next spring will nee women wear-
ing w*ool frocka of the tailored or semi-
tuilcHMltype equipped with sleeves
that are well above the elbow.
It is also announced that plaids will
have a very strong run of favor in
tailored street apparel in the spring.
Many very smart and also very striking
plaid wool fabrics are being brought
out to meet this demand. Or iht-
hapN the demand ha < been created to
tike cwt ot the hindiKNne plaide that
have already been woven! In any
event plaids are to lie worn and they
will not at all as is usually the case
he confined to garments for the mem-
bers of the younger set.
Incidentally bolero and Eton jacket.*
are to be much in the limelight next
spring both for coats and frocks. For
southern resort wear some very smart
bolero effect! are belag broifht out*
1919-1920
l\eiu Year's Eve
To insure a table
to enjoy—th it
memorable occasion
DECEMBER 27. 1919
one .trlkinc exampta having a aklrt
and jacket of white blouse of vivid red.
and pantalettes of red which abow the
tiniest bit below the akirt bringing
about a sort of modified harem ail-
houette.
Look Into This
If you want your rimlest
glasses to last get Reel
Iwit-brealC
and save money and trouble.
11l ‘lllKlSS^
407 E Hcuslkv
407 E. Hourton St. Hick. Bldg.
SAN ANTONIO
Phont Crockett 3991
Gunter Hotel
5
Upcoming Pages
Here’s what’s next.
Search Inside
This issue can be searched. Note: Results may vary based on the legibility of text within the document.
Tools / Downloads
Get a copy of this page or view the extracted text.
Citing and Sharing
Basic information for referencing this web page. We also provide extended guidance on usage rights, references, copying or embedding.
Reference the current page of this Newspaper.
Diehl, Charles S. & Beach, Harrison L. The San Antonio Light (San Antonio, Tex.), Vol. 39, No. 342, Ed. 1 Saturday, December 27, 1919, newspaper, December 27, 1919; San Antonio, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth1615341/m1/5/: accessed July 17, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu; .