Galveston Tribune. (Galveston, Tex.), Vol. 38, No. 218, Ed. 1 Wednesday, August 7, 1918 Page: 4 of 10
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FOUR
GALVESTON TRIBUNE.
WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 7, 191S.
GALVESTON TRIBUNE
=============================== ESTABLISHED 1880 ===================
Published Evenings Except Sunday at the Tribune Building.
Entered at the Postoffice in Galveston as Second-Class Mall Matter. -
mo TPHANEG Business Office and Adv. Dept, S3, Circulation Dept. 1386.
1 LLEIIONE Editorial Rooms 49 and 1395, Society Editor 2534.
GHIDGADIDTIAAN P AT S By Carrier or Mnil, Postage Prepaid. Per
SUBSCRIE 1 ION 1 ED Week, 10e: Per Month, 45e; Per Year, st.
Member American Newspaper Publishers’ Ass’n, Southern Newspaper Publishers’
Ass’n. and Audit Bureau of Circulations.
Member of the Associated Press.
, The Associated Press is exclusively entitled to
the use for republication of all news dispatches
credited to it or net otherwise credited In this
paper, and also the local news published herein.
PORT OF GALVESTON.
Eastern Offices.
New York Office, 341 Fifth Ave.
D. J. Randall.
Chicago, St. Louis and Detroit Offices,
The S. C. Beckwith Agency.
DIAMOND
■ DIAMOND
by
JANE BUNKER
Copyright 1913, The Bobbs - Merrill Company.
For the past several years Galveston
has not been permitted to add to any
appreciable extent to her reputation as
a real seaport. Other places with less
extensive facilities than are located
: here have come into prominence as
• ports and have prospered largely be-
cause of the fortuity of location. Gal-
' veston did not murmur when she was
told that because of a lack of tonnage
the ports located nearer European
gateways would be favored for the
shipment of freight across the Atlantic,
because Galveston recognized the ap-
parent logic of conditions, but when it
became evident that such, ports as had
been selected as embarkation points
were congested because the railroads
were delivering the material faster than
it could be loaded, it was mildly sug-
gested that the facilities of Galveston
might be utilized to relieve the
crowded condition along the north At-
lantic.
When it was decided that it would
not be expedient to divert any of this
traffic to Gulf ports, although it was
pointed out that length of voyage was
offset by shortening of lay days for
the ships, Galveston accepted the ver-
dict and made the best of a bad condi-
tion, and Galveston has continued to
get along as well as possible while her
people, sought out more prosperous lo-
cations and left the resolute few to
hold fast to what was known to be a
port which must eventually be recog-
nized.
By an Associated Press dispatch pub-
lished in Monday’s Tribune it is an-
nounced that Galveston is to be uti-
lized by the national government in
the forwarding of needed material
across the ocean, and very soon a com-
mission. is to visit this city to deter-
mine just how much of an investment
will be required from the government
to make the port available as an aid in
carrying on the war and in handling
the big foreign business being built up
and which will undergo tremendous ex-
pansion when the war will have come
to an end.
Based upon the tests to which the
port has been subjected in the past,
the government officials will find that
our facilities will compare favorably
with those of ports twice the size of
Galveston, and while the men who have
helped in earning the splendid reputa-
tion enjoyed by this port have been
called to other fields of usefulness, the
material facilities are still unimpaired
and the assurance of steady employ -
menu will soon bring into service a
well trained corps of operatives capa-
ble of obtaining the maximum of
utility from the plant built up through
years of study and backed by a deter-
mination to meet every possible con-
tingency. .
Galveston people are not surprised
that the government has awakened to
the knowledge that here is located a
port of no small significance to the
commercial world, it having been so
recognized in past days, and the faith
of the people who claim this city as
their home is not to be shaken by in-
cidents such as even a great war in
Europe, for in due course of time it is
felt that commerce will demand the
use of facilities we have here estab-
lished and commerce is not to e
denied.
The recognition of the value o the
port of. Galveston by the national gov-
ernment at this time is very likely to
have an effect that will reach out into
the future, for there is to be a future
in which the ways of peace will suc-
ceed the ways of war, and when that
desirable hour shall arrive it will very
likely find that Galveston is splendidly
located for handling a very large por-
tion of the business that will be trans-
acted between this country and the
Latin-American republics. It is to be
borne in mind that the present war is
going to change the current of many
ambitions besides the military aspira-
tions of the German kaiser, and that
this same kaiser is liable to lose for his
empire a great trade with this conti-
nent which he had expected to hold
•with his mailed fist; but that fist is
weakening its hold upon the sword
and the hoped-for commercial advan-
tage which was to have been one of
the spoils of victory is going to pass
to America, and American ports lo-
cated nearest the trading ports of
these countries are very likely to enjoy
the bulk of this great traffic. An in-
vestigation of the facilities of the port
of Galveston will soon make known the
fact that war material can be ade-
quately, handled through Galveston,
and when war material shall have
ceased to be the major part of cargoes
destined to European ports then will
Galveston have indicated that her
claim to being a port was well founded,
earned, through tests ample to verify
this claim.
dents of that city. From this time
on it may be expected that activity
will mark the movement of the revo-
lution now operating in Russia to ovci -
throw the so-called bolshevik govern-
ment and in its stead to give the Rus-
sian people a system that will afford
them opportunity for expansion and
growth, and incidentally, to free them-
selves from the. vassalage which Ger-
many is endeavoring to fasten upon
them.
What a splendid tribute to the ad-
vancement of the science of medicine
and surgery is contained in the state-
ment that four-fifths of the American
soldiers wounded in action will re-
turn to get a second chance at the
kaiser. While war ravenously hungers
for human life, war also offers oppor-
tunity for the trying out of a number
of partially proven- medical theories
which, in the long run, will doubtless
save as many lives as it has cost the
world to establish the efficacy of the
theory. If the world must have wars
it should obtain from these experiences
every compensating good they may af-
ford.
has
the
rep-
A German U-boat commander
added another black smirch to
reputation of the government lie
resents by the cowardly sinking of
a British hospital ship loaded with
wounded and helpless soldiers. It is
not to be hoped that any protest filed
against this inhuman style of warfare
will be heeded by the underwater rep-
resentatives of the imperial navy, but
these acts of savagery will make the
terms of settlement all the more se-
vere in the end and will place a bar
sinister across the name of Germany
that will not be effaced for centuries
to come.
The financial institutions of the land
are formulating plans for the han-
dling of the fourth liberty loan and
their example of farsightedness should
be communicated to the masses in or-
der that the campaign may be handled
with true American celerity. If the
people could only be induced to use
their foresight in connection with the
liberty loans, it would not be neces-
sary to stretch the canvass over three
weeks of time. It ought to be done in
in one.week and it can be done if the
people will only determine that time
is as valuable as sugar.
I
CLAIRE.
I’ve always thought this adventure
might credibly have happened to any-
body else but me. Since it did hap-
pen to me, I've come to the incredible
conclusion that it’s your staid proper
spinsters who get into some of the
bluggiest adventures, only the world,
just because of the bred-in-the-bone
propriety of the people involved, never
hears about the adventures. To go
back to first causes, I go into mine
through what I call “our white um-
brella, trip.”
Ann Preswick and I had spent the
summer casually roving through Hol-
land and Belgium, accompanied by two
large suitcases, a bunch of extra soft
lead pencils—mine—and a large paint-
box and a white umbrella—Ann’s—
searching such adventures, literary and
artistic, as two rather staid and pro-
saic women would be likely to find,
which adventures we hoped to con-
vert into cash through the American
magazines. .
At the end of three months, Ann
thought she saw two real live books as
the offspring of our joint, labors, so
with my typewriter I went down to
Vevay for the winter to work. How-
ever, I had hardly found myself nicely
settled and Belgian Byways spurting
along, when I was cabled for to come
home on family business, and I had
to write Ann that I’d be in Paris by a
certain train and to have her draw-
ings ready on the dot.
While I was having the portier buy
my Paris ticket for me and the hotel
maids were folding my wardrobe and
getting packed in two suitcases what
should by rights have occupied a Sara-
toga trunk, a lady’s card was brought
to my room by the proprietor himself,
telling me that the madame below
stairs was the highly respected prin-
cipal of a young ladies’ school.
The madame turned out to be a
pudgy self-important person, speaking
voluble and understandable English,
word, she didn’t make me the least
trouble and she saved me a great deal
at the frontier, for she spoke both
French and German fluently—which I
don’t—and when a dingy villainous-
looking customs official eviscerated our
compartment, I was only too thankful
I had the child with me.
An American simply doesn't know
how insulting the French men can be
to a lone woman until she’s dumped
out on a railway platform in the dead
of night with a herd of them. Some of
these lighted cigarettes and blew the
smoke in our direction—almost in our
faces—to attract our attention; several
touched their hats to us.
Then a second dingy person in uni-
form began pointing an accusing finger
at me and calling out something harsh
and rapid that fairly clanked of prison
bars; and number one, who’d emptied
the compartment, came up on the run,
crying out that “those were the ladies.”
My uneasiness began to turn to alarm
when Claire took me by the hand and
said she’d talk to them. Which she did
—glibly and charmingly, though I only
here and there made out a word she
said.
Immediately all the dingy uniforms
relaxed and began to smile at once and
twirl mustaches, and when I forced my
baggage key into the hand of one and
Claire offered hers to another, they
really didn’t seem to know what use
those objects served, but between
smiles and twirls they recalled, indi-
tinctly, that keys had some connection
with luggage, and with obsequious,
apologetic bows, opened my suitcase
and Claire’s trunk, stuck a forefinger
that as I’d been overridden once within
the last twenty-four hours to serve his
interests, I’d stand my ground now.
Looking back over that meal, I believe
he was not intentionally forcing on me
unwelcome hospitality, he was trying
to get me in good humor in order to
broach a matter of his own. -
When he was about to dismiss the
waiter, I remarked coldly, “Ah, pardon,
monsier, have him wait just a moment
—you have forgotten my breakfast.”
“Garcon!”
Garcon hopped over to my side of
the table.
“Garcon, pour moi, cafe-au-lait avec
petites pains et avec le beurre et avec
une soft-boiled egg, cooked three min-
utes.”
With that I turned to Claire—and
winked. It’s just one of those things
I can’t explain, but I did it; and in
spite of herself she tittered, possibly at
my French, but I've always had a
sneaking suspicion it was joy at seeing
her father come up with for once in
his bossiness. Then she said very rap-
idly in German—she didn’t mean me to
hear—that I was sot in my ways, and
he'd better not stir me up.
Monsieur grunted, apologized profuse-
ly for “misunderstanding,” counter-
manded the order and told garcon to
bring coffee and rolls for all three of
us; and garcon hopped off nimbly, and
he came back with the coffee and rolls.
It was when I was biting into my
second roll that monsieur came out
plop with the thing I now believe the
elaborate meal had been meant to pave
the way for-—no less, than that I was
to take Claire cn the steamer with me
and let her share my stateroom!
Oh, it was more than a favor he was
Poetry and Persiflage
---------------------------users OBBMW»M^mB^m4WBM«ww«»^™«™mBww^™MM*«?^e:
THE SEEKERS.
Friends and loves we have none, nor
wealth, nor blest abode.
But the hope, the burning hope, and the
road, the lonely road.
Not for us are content and quiet, and
peace of mind,
For we go seeking cities that we shall
never find.
There is no solace on earth for us—for
such as we—
Who search for the hidden beauty that
eyes may never see. .
Only the road and the dawn, the sun,
the wind, the rain,
And the watch-fire under stars, and
sleep, and the road again.
We seek the city of God, and the haunt
where beauty dwells,
And we find the noisy mart, and the
sound of burial bells.
Never the' golden city, where radiant
people meet,
But the dolorous, town where mourners
are going about the street.
We travel the dusty road till the light
of day is dim
And sunset shows us spires away on
the world's rim.
We travel from dawn till dusk, till the
day is past and by,
Seeking the Holy City beyond the rim
of the sky.
down into one
corner as if afraid of
being caught by an
infuriated crab,
locked the luggage and
turned the keys.
Now while Claire was
hastily re-
explaining to
We have committed ourselves to the
task of aiding Russia to find herself.
American troops have been landed at
Archangel and the Associated Press
report informs us that they were
greeted with enthusiasm by the resi-
Premier Lloyd-George has seen fit
to employ the fragment of an old saw
in his latest message to the British peo-
ple, in which he bids them to “hold
fast.” The phrase is one peculiarly
suited to the Brtish temperament, for
it has become a proverb that the Brit-
ish army fights best when it is being
whipped, a statement proven more than
once since Great Britain came/to the
succor of the victims of Germany’s in-
ordinate ambition. “Brag is a good
dog, but hold-fast is better,” runs the
old saying that it would appear that so
far as the British army is concerned,
hold fast is being practiced to the dis-
comfiture of the kaiser and his six
sons. Some day the order will come
for the British army to quit holding
fast and to march forward fast, and
then will be demonstrated another
phase of character of the Briton, one
that has carried them through many
trying experiences making up the his-
tory of that people.
SANCTUM SIFTINGS
HANDS OFF!
Fort Worth Star-Telegram.
Into the category of luxuries listed
as taxable possibilities in connection
with the billion-dollar revenue bill
goes women’s hats. Ten dollars repre-
sents the deadline where wartime
economy ends and taxation begins.
Poetic fancy has long since established
the notion that a woman’s hair is her
crowning glory. But plain, everyday
observation of the passing show de-
cides that the hat is the crowning
glory. Woman topped by a ten-dollar
hat! May the honorable ways and,
means committee sensibly ′ forbid!
Women have given most in this war—
sons of the firing line, long hours in
Red Cross work, overtime for whatever
additional war bit comes to hand—and
the knitting needles busy always. Be-
sides, woman has popularized flour sub-
stitutes, camouflaged them so well by
applied domestic science that man has
been kept in reasonable good humor.
Woman has fetched to the food admin-
istration a loyalty as steadfast as the
heroic soldier’s obedience to orders to
hold the line. And now woman is to
be crowned with a ten-dollar hat!
Where is the chivalry of financier and
tax expert? Hands off women’s hats.
■Whether they cost a dollar or half a
hundred or even $99.98—the men won’t
miss the money and the women will
be happy. And the war will be financed
just the same.
NO PEACE SHORT OF VICTORY.
Waco Times-Herald.
President Wilson did all that mor-
tal man could do to keep this country
out of war. “He kept us out of war”
-was the slogan of the women of Cali-
fornia, and their votes elected him. He
wished for peace. But the day came
when it was either fight or accept an-
other’s dictation. He chose to fight.
He could not do otherwise and look
the world in the face. Keep it in mind;
this is not a war of Wilson's choosing
—it was forced on him. That’s why he
now says there can be no peace short
of victory.
who dived without waste of oppor-
tunity into her reason for visiting me:
The portier had that morning bought
tickets for me to Paris on the night
train—one of the young ladies of her
school had just been telegraphed by
monsieur le pere, to meet him in 1 aris
in the morning and must go up by
the night train—of a necessity, made-
moiselle must be chaperoned upon the
journey—and madame had electea me
to the privilege of doing it.
She put her case in the most self- |
possessed, of-course-you-will-do-it-
gladly way I ever heard. To make my
answer excusable I must digress. About
three years before, I had “a young
lady going north to join her mother"
thrust into my chaperonage on a south-
ern trip. The "young’lady" whom I
accepted “sight unseen,” after heirs
told she was “a mere child,” wired
ahead to every station where we stop-
ped, and was there met by a young man
whom she presented as a "cousin" or
a friend of her mother's. On the sec-
ond night I found her on the rear plat-
form, tenderly embracing one of these
young men. I said not one word-sim-
ply took my young lady with an icy
hand and led her back to bed, where
I ordered her to undress. Then I put
her shoes under my mattress.
“Never let yourself get bit twice by
the same dog." Here was “the same
dog,” only much worse—a French girl.
I positively snapped at madame the
principal. ,
“That is something I never do, mad-
ame—chaperon strange young ladies.
Then I bowed frigidly, added, “Good
morning,” and started for the door.
"Madame—if you please—one mo-
ment See tife message of the father."
She pulled out a long telegram in
French. "You see—he goes to America
at once with his daughter. She must
be in Paris in the morning—must, you
comprehend?”
“Madame, you really must excuse me
and allow me to say bonjour. 1 never
chaperon
strange young ladies."
With that I
sailed off and upstairs*
as fast as my legs could carry me.
After what I'd said to madame and
the way I’d treated her, it never occur-
red to me that she’d laugh at my re-
fusal. But it’s what she did.
brought the child to the
SILS * t
tion and put her in my hands.
She
sta-
And
I saw a pair of beautiful big round
eyes and a pair of beautiful big braids
behind—I'd seen the braids the moment
j entered the station and before mad-
ame had discovered me—and a charm-
ing, charming little creature about fif-
teen in short frocks, and she put her
little exquisitely gloved hand in mine
and said, “Oh, do let me go with you!
I'll not cause you a bit of trouble. You
make me fell so safe, and Im
scared.”
so
The last came out with a little gulp,
and silly old thing that I am about
children of just that age—where child-
hood's world is closing them out of its
innumerable protections and woman-
hood is opening the door to the world
of straying feet—I said, “Come on, my
dear,” and put my arm around her,
and away we went.
CHAPTER II.
Monsieur.
Claire—She asked me to call her by
her first name—was as good as her
dingy number three, and dingy number
two was trying to get it all and pass it
along to number one, I thought I heard
her say, "C’est ma mere,” and why she
should be telling them about her moth-
er, I couldn't make out. So I asked her.
The child blushed furiously and took
my hand.
“Don’t be angry with me, please. The
man insisted on knowing who you were
I and I told him you were my mother.”
And actually—that will show you the
old softy I am and the way I’d fallen
in love with the little thing—I wished
it were true.
“I was so frightened," she went on,
“that I hardly knew what to do. So
I told him that”—she was red as agrose
now—"I told him that you were the
i Duchess Ce Fauncefort—English, you
know—and were traveling incognita.
That’s why they were all so civil.”
"Why, my dear child,” I expostulated,
for T do hate unnecessary lies, “I don’t
think all that was called for. I had
nothing the officers might not have
seen in welcome.”
She hung her head and admitted, “I
was afraid you wouldn't like it, but
papa told me what to say in order to
escape indignity. You see there are
so many Russian spies passing the
frontier—some very important one
have been escaping with papers and
they are mostly women.”
She seemed reticent about her father,
saying he traveled most of the time
and was in the diplomatic service and
that she and her mother lived in Paris.
But last September, dear grandpa had
had a stroke and her mother had to
rush to America to a place called Cali-
fornia, and she—Claire—was sent for
safe-keeping to madame’s school. I
wondered how a mother could go off
and leave a charming child like that
and hugged her closer and—waked up
in Paris.
Monsier le pere met us at the station.
Claire saw him in the distance and
with a cry of joy, skimmed along the
platform and into his arms. I came up
sedately, just as her father set her
down, and was introduced and thanked.
Monsier de Ravenol had an air and a
way; and the way was as convincing as
the air. He gave me all the gratitude
for the favor rendered that it was
worth—and I thought father more, and
then immediately insisted on my break-
fasting with them.
Where monsieur took us, I don't to
this day know, but it was an expensive
obsequious place and he seemed to
be at home there.
Monsieur talked excellent English,
not idiomatic, but with only a slight
accent. He hardly had us seated when
he insisted on ordering for me what
he was pleased to call an “American
breakfast.”
Now as it happens, I had become
inured to the continental breakfast of
rolls and coffee, but it was in vain that
I protested rolls and coffee were all I
eVer ate even in America, with per-
haps a soft boiled egg, or a little fruit.
“Ah, I know you Americans,” he
laughed, flinging an order at the gar-
son for a beefsteak. “I know what you
are accustomed to consume at break-
fast.” and he flung another order at
garcon, and then several more.
I was annoyed. It wasn’t only that
he was forcing on me food I could not
eat after an all-night journey—it was
the cool superiority of his manner—(it
doesn’t show up in print)—the mag-
nificent l asculine attitude, assuming
I had no will. In that one moment I
began disliking him, and I determined
asking-—madame and himself and
Claire would be forever in my debt. He
himself had expected to sail in two
days and join madame in New York,
but he was “recalled to court" (what
court he didn’t trouble to tell me) and
he could neither take Claire with him
nor yet leave her alone in Paris.
Madame de Ravenol would be awaiting
her child in New York, hence, if I
could continue to keep the girl under
my so estimable care until I delivered
her on the other side, monsieur would
retain for me an everlasting gratitude.
• Claire started and exclaimed, “Papa!”
when she heard he was not sailing,
and was meaning to send her on alone,
but he gave her a hard look and a
sharp sentence in what sounded Ger-
man, but I’ve since learned was a
dialect I couldn’t be supposed to un-
derstand. All I got of it was a stern
“Du must,” which silenced the girl
completely.
It was that—the callous rudeness to-
ward me, though at the moment he
was in the very act of asking a great
favor—that nailed my resolution to
have nothing whatever to do with him
or his affairs. I replied, the moment
I got the, chance, “It is quite impossi-
ble, 1 monsieur. I never share a state-
room with any one.”
Monsieur didn’t give up at my curt
refusal any more than madame the
principal had—I suspected that some
of her persistence was due- to his in-
fection.
“Ah, madame—a child—a little child,
alone,” he looked at me reproachfully.
“What shall she make alone on zat
long voyage? And coming to your
customs house in New York—I hear zat
zey are terrible—zat ladies receive in-
dignities beyond belief, being stripped
to ze skin to be searched by monsters
in human form.”
I flared up at this—our customs
house isn’t anything to give one par-
ticular pride, but it's nothing indecent,
and I told him very flatly what he
said wasn't so.
He began asking me how I managed.
I answered flippantly, “Well, in the
first place I declare everything I have,
and in the second place I never have
anything to declare.”
Monsieur laughed at this—said I'd
made a mot—and then asked me to ex-
plain it! I remember saying that in
my flying trips I carried only a couple
of good-sized suit cases, and that the
customs officials didn't expect to con-
jure forty Paris dresses out of those.
In an instant of unreserve I mentioned
that I had a fourth cousin in the
service w ho always met me and saw
that I got through—he was in charge
of the inspectors who examined bag-
gage on the line I always took.
“Ah, how excellent it would be for
Claire to accompany you,” monsieur
exclaimed with feeling’. “All her anx-
iety would zen be set at rest by your
so estimable cousin. Surely you will
not refuse her to share your state-
room?”
I was exasperated again in a min-
ute. I’ve got Quaker blood in me and
come from a people whose yea is yea
and whose nay means “that settles it.”
I snapped out that my stateroom was
too small even for me, in comfort.
“But I shall most gladly engage
ze largest on board for you and my
daughter,” he cried, brightening. “In-
deed, it is no more zan right zat I pay
ze entire passage.”
Claire started and turned furiously
red. Child as she was, she had a breed-
ing and a delicacy of feeling that her
father lacked. As for me, my eyes
were popping. I threw my napkin on
the table and let this icicle slide off
my tongue. “Monsieur, I am perfectly
able to pay my way through the world
without the help of strangers,” and
with that I rose, adding, “I must say
farewell to you and your daughter. I
have many things to attend to and my
friends are expecting me.”
Monsieur and Claire immediately fol-
lowed my example in rising, monsieur
calling the garcon to bring the bill
and telling Claire to go with me to the
saloon. As she was leaving, he called
her back for another communication
not meant for me to understand. She,
poor child, wasn’t equal to the task
he set, for she blurted out, very red
in the face, “Papa wants me to beg
you to take me with you—” and then
stopped and looked at the floor, for the
smile she saw in my face.
(To Be Continued.)
Friends and loves we have none, nor
wealth, nor blest abode,
But the hope, the burning hope, and the
road, the lonely road.
, —John Masefield.
It may not be a coincidence, but
since prohibition went into effect in
Texas a large increase in the number
of tanks in France has been reported.
Obedience,
Samuel Grindstone was a hustler of
the modern school. He believed in the
gospel of speeding-up.
Over every desk in his office he
placed a large printed notice reading:
“Do it now!”
But a week later, with tired fingers
and exhausted air, he tore them all
down.
"Hallo!", said a friend, dashing in on
the ceremony of destruction. “What’s
up! Doesn’t hustling pay? Going back
to the old leisurely methods?”
“Yes, I am,” snorted Grindstone.
“Hustling doesn’t pay. I gave sixpence
each for these notices, thinking they’d
spur my staff on to hard work.”
“Well?”
“Well, the net result is that they’ve
all acted on the motto. The chief
cashier has bolted with the contents of
the safe; my typist has eloped with my
youngest son; four juniors came in yes-
terday to ask for a raise, and the office
boy has found a better job and gone
off to it.”—Answers.
Merely a Suggestion.
The tramcar was very crowded when
the rural couple got aboard. At the
door the young man looked down
doubtfully into the pretty eyes of the
blushing bride.
“Do you think you can squeeze in
here?” he asked dubiously.
Whereupon she put her lips to his
ear and whispered very softly:
“Don’t you think, dearie, we’d better
wait until we get to the hotel?”—Pear-
son’s Weekly.
Lived Too Soon.
But for the anachronism Lady Circe
might have been a millionairess, with
pork at 40 cents a pound.—Brooklyn
Eagle,
Trift.
The commercial traveler met Sandy,
the canny one, emerging from the post-
office.'
“Ah! Sandy!” cried the commercial,
“it is good to see a prosperous farmer
as yourself—not forgetful of his coun-
try! You have been in the postoffice
to purchase war bonds?”
“Nay,” said Sandy easily. ■
“Oh! Then perhaps you have put a
little money in the savings bank that
it may help the country?”
“Nay!”
"Well," said the traveler as a last re-
sort, "I suppose that you have bought
a postal order to send to some poor
acquaintance?”
“Nay, I’ve been in to fill my fountain
pen?”—Ideas.
Through Holland comes the report
that Germany is about to make an-
other peace offer: well, there’s plenty
of space in Uncle Sam’s waste basket.
w
Second Sight.
An old gypsy woman boarded a Mar-
ket street car and seated herself beside
a fashionably dressed matron. Respect-
ability shifted its skirts and edged
away.
“Don’t put on airs,” said the gypsy
woman. “You have only 15 cents in
your pocket.”
Her victim flushed and the crowd
grinned. It may have been kindness of
heart that prompted one man to cause
diversion. “Maybe you can tell how
much money I've got in my pockets,” he
suggested.
“Twenty dollars and eleven cents,”
said the gypsy without hesitation.
“I admit the twenty,” said the man.
“I have a twenty-dollar bill; but I
haven’t the eleven cents.”
“Oh, yes, you have,” replied the
gypsy. “Feel in your right hand vest
pocket.”
So the man felt there and pulled out
a dime and a penny he had forgotten.
Everybody was “sitting up and tak-
ing notice” by this time. “Perhaps
you can tell us when the war will
end?” said one man.
“In six months," said the gypsy; “and
the kaiser will commit suicide.”
A true story? I don’t know. I only
know, it was told by a reliable man
who “heard it” from somebody else.
And I am willing to confess that it
sounds too “good” to be true.—London
Press.
It must make iron cross to be made
into an ornament to be worn by Hun
brutes.
Beyond the Pale.
“What did he do when he got the
gate?”
“Why he took offense."—The Purple
Cow.
The Achievement.
A few strong turns of hand and wrist,
Andlo! the thing was done:
My name inscribed upon the list
Of those whose palm is won.
Almost surpassing man’s belief
This deed achieved by me:
I found a tin of bully beef
That opened with its key.
Civilians may not know it, but
To soldiers ’twill be plain,
That thus I have contrived to cut
A niche within the fane.
When and wherever soldiers meet
They shall not fail to speak
Of me and my astounded feat—
Unparalleled, unique.
There may, where legions clash and
break,
Be braver heroes far.
(In point of fact, for England’s sake,
I’m glad to think there are.)
They rouse in me no envious grief;
I am content to be
The Man Who Opened Bully Beef
With Its Appointed Key.
—London Opinion.
Literal.
Recruiting Orator—And what mo-
tives are taking these brave young men
to the front?
Voice From Rear — Locomotives!—■
Cornell Widow.
The Trouble.
Waiter (watching customer who had
ordered boiled eggs)—Weren’t they
boiled long enough?
Customer—Yes, but not soon enough.
—Lehigh Burr.
Swat Him.
My temper most is serene,
For vulgar strife I’m keen;
And yet I yearn to swat the man
Who’s always saying “different than.”
—Kee Maxwell, in Akron Times.
I think he is the selfsame guy
Who makes me grit my teeth and cry
And doubt the spread of education—
He always calls it "Avv-iation."
—Ted Robinson, in Cleveland Plain-
Dealer.
The two descriptions make us think
You’ve landed on the selfsame gink
Who our angora always gets
Because he speaks cf “cabarets.”
—Charley Leedy, in Youngstown Tele-
gram.
We’ve met him on the dining car
When on vacations speeding far;
Our capricorns this duck gets
By ordering “egg omelettes.”
—Houston Post.
This doubtless is the selfsame dub
You meet in office and in club
Who merits Fate’s severist stings
By gabbing of “these kind of things.”
:—Philadelphia Evening Ledger.
fyandHis friend
6/ David Cory
One morning as Uncle Lucky, the old
gentleman rabbit you know, woke up
in his little white house in Rabbit-
ville, he heard a little bird singing
just outside his window. So he sat up
in bed to listen:
“There’s going to be a picnic
In the shady wood today,
So hurry, Uncle Lucky,
In your motor car away.
For if you're not there early
The ice cream will be gone,
And then you’ll wish you'd gotten up
Before the peep of dawn.”
“Well, I must hurry,” thought dear
Uncle Lucky, and he parted his haii-
down the middle of his back and tied
his blue silk polkadot handkerchief
around his neck and wound his gold
watch and chain. And then he almost
forgot to put his diamond horseshoe
pin in his bowknot, but he didn’t forget
to put on his old wedding stovepipe
let me tell you.
And as soon as he had finished
breakfast he went out to the barn
where the old red rooster was giving
the Luckymobile a drink of gasoline.
“Is everything in apple-pie order?
asked the nice old gentleman rabbit,
and the old red rooster said, “Yes,
sir!" just as plain as plain could be.
So Uncle Lucky hopped into the Lucky-
mobile and drove down, to the village,
for he wanted to buy some lollypops
at the Three-in-One-Cent Store.
“How many do you want?” asked
the lady clerk, who was an old maid
duck with black mitts on her feet.
“I’d like a pail full,” said the old
gentleman tabbit, “and maybe two
pails and a half, for I guess there’ll
be lots of children at the picnic.” So
the old maid saleslady duck hunted
around and pretty soon she found three
pails and a half full of yellow and pink
lollypops, and then she and Uncle
Lucky carried them out to the Lucky-
mobile and put them under the back
seat, where they wouldn’t joggle all
around till the sticks came out of the
candy part,"you see, for it wouldn’t be
any fun to eat a lollypop if it didn’t
have a little wooden handle to it, let
me tell you.
‘‘Now, let me see,” said Uncle Lucky
to’ himself, “I wonder which road I’ll
take,” for he had come to a part in
the road where it branched out just
like the letter Y.
“This way, that way,
Which shall it be?
One, two, one, two.
One, two, THREE!”
said Uncle Lucky, and then he turned
to the right and away he went as fast
as he could go, and after a while, not
so very long, he came to the wood.
So he drove in a little way and then
stopped to listen. And just then up
came Robbie Redbreast.
“I know what you’re looking for,”
said that dear little bird with a laugh.
“The picnic.”
“Show me the way," said the old
gentleman rabbit, and in the next story
you shall hear what Uncle Lucky did
with the lollypops.
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Galveston Tribune. (Galveston, Tex.), Vol. 38, No. 218, Ed. 1 Wednesday, August 7, 1918, newspaper, August 7, 1918; (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth1643564/m1/4/: accessed July 8, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu; crediting Rosenberg Library.