Honey Grove Signal. (Honey Grove, Tex.), Vol. 19, No. 37, Ed. 1 Friday, October 15, 1909 Page: 2 of 6
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To all persons subject to Bilious Attacks, Sour Stomach, Indiges-
tion, Constipation, Headache, Dizziness, Heartburn, Vertigo,
(blind staggers), Foul-Breath, SaUow Complexion or other
symptoms of a Torpid Liver, WE SAY,
TSKE
It is the Surest, the Safest, the most Speedy and Complete
Liver Tonic and Regulator in the Whole Field cf Medicine
It is a marvelous remedy. Its invigorating effect on a Torpid Liver is little less than marvelous.
It acts instantly. The first dose brings improvement, a few days’ use cures the most obstinate case.
Tired, weak, despondent victims of a Torpid Liver are restored almost in a day.
• *
A Brilliant Record in Malaria Xt c^res Chills and Ague by destroying the disease germs in the
system and driving them out of the body. Where Malaria is prevalent it is a
faithful guardian of health. It puts the stomach, liver and bowels in such fine condition that the ma-
larial germ cannot exist.
Every home should have a bottle of this great Liver Tonic and Regulator. It stands for health for
the whole family. The chill season is here and all those who are constipated, who have a Torpid Liver
or digestive disorders, will surely have trouble with this arch enemy of the race. BE PREPARED!!
Get in condition at once by taking HERBINE and you can defy the disease.
J^x*i.Ge9 SO Cents Bottle
Ballard Snow Liniment Company, Sole Proprietors, St. Louis Mo.
A SERVICE OF LOVE,
Story of Two Art Students Who
Toiled For Each Other.
HONEY GROVE SIGNAL
PUBLISHED every
FRIDAY.
Signal Pub. Co. - Publishers
J. H. Lowry - - -
Editor
THE PASSING OF CAMPBELL.
Gov. Campbell has purchased
a plug hat and will wear the
tall, shiny beaver to-morrow when
he greets President Taft. Now,
my countrymen, isn’t this the
limit? He who will appear to-
morrow crowned with a beaver
tile that glistens and glitters in
the sunlight like the petticoat of
a Fifth Avenue belle is the same
“plain Tom Campbell” I once
introduced to the people of Hon-
ey Grove as “the man of the peo-
ple, the defender of the constitu-
tion, the Jack who would cut
down the bean stalk in which the
trust giants lived.” That was an
honest conviction, boldly ex-
pressed, for verily Tom looked it.
Sartorially he was the pink of
perfection and every garment
was eloquent of the “man of the
people.” There was the plain
alapaca coat, already faded to a
dun brown, and one of the pock-
ets was ripped 90 per cent off;
there was the slouch hat, the neg-
ligee shirt front which was not
immaculate; the harness strap
girt which held his striped trous-
ers in place, and last, but not
least important, there was the
Woodman pin which had already
lent its metallic coloring to a
goodly portion of his coat—all
these bespoke the man to be
trusted with the affairs of state.
I was deceived, my countrymen.
I admit it, but 1 plead in extenu-
ation of my crime against the
people the perfect disguise of the
wolf. As I gazed upon “plain
Tom” that day, when his demo-
cratic person was free from even
the suspicion of the garb of cor-
ruption and effetensss, the ex-
uberance of my spirit knew no
bounds, and I cried aloud, “Be-
hold the Moses who is to lead his
people to political righteousness.”
I thought of the poem written by
a Missouri poet when William
Joel Stone ran for Congress,
which runs like this
“When Governor Stone for Congress
ran
And got there with a will
He dressed so Democratic that
They called him ‘Shirttail Bill.”
But the good book says “even
our eyes will deceive us,” and so
have I been deceived. Early
during his administration “plain
Tom” wore a claw-hammer coat,
but with tears in his eyes he told
me that it was all the fault of his
wife and that he would don it no
more forever. He even tried to
give the thing to me in order to
get it away from Austin and out
of his sight, but I had sins
enough to answer for and did not
care to face other temptations.
But to-morrow “plain Tom”
appears in a plug hat! And as
the sable, shiny tile which covers
the Governor’s dome of thought
is kissed by the sunlight on the
Mexican border, so will pass for-
ever the ancient, uncorruptible
simplicity in the garb of a man
who was once the pride of the
people, but has fallen from his
high estate.
Dr. Elliot, late President of
Harvard University, is exploiting
a new religion. His religion is
such a departure from the reli-
gion of the Bible that few people
understand what it is; so far as
we are able to understand it,
however, it appears that the
learned doctor has the frame
work for a pretty fair secret so-
ciety, but not something that will
satisfy the soul that worships and
trusts its Maker. In a recent ad-
dress, outlining the religion for
which he stands sponsor, Dr. El-
liott said:
“The fear of hell has not proved
effective to deter men from wrong-
doing, and heaven has never yet
been described in terms very at-
tractive to the modern man or wo-
man. The prevailing conception
of heaven and hell has hardly any
more influence with educated peo-
ple in these days than Olympus and
Hades have.”
The doctor, then, would strike
out the hope of heaven and fear
of hell and build his religion up-
on another foundation, robbing
the pious man of the comforts of
religion and removing the conse-
quences of sin from the gaze of
the unrighteous. The new re-
ligion may do fairly well for the
sinner who is determined to re-
main a sinner.but it will never sat-
isfy the righteous person whose
hopes are anchored to a better
world beyond—a house not made
with hands,eternal in the heavens.
The public squares of towns
were made for the convenience of
the general public, not for wan-
dering orators or agents. If a
man wants to speak on political
questions there is a good hall
here that can be had free of
charge; if he wants to preach,
and is worthy, there is a good
tabernacle he can use, and half
a dozen churches that will open
their doors to him; if he wants to
merchandise there are houses he
can rent, and in all fairness he
ought to do so, just as other
merchants do. The fellow who
bawls and cavorts on the square,
for any purpose, is a nuisance
and we trust the day is not far
distant when he will be sup-
pressed.
The undertakers say there have
been fewer deaths this summer
and fall than ever before in the
country’s history. The same re-
port is made by the undertakers
of surrounding towns. The con-
tention of those who say the
health of the people is best during
dry years seems to have been
proved.
Men’s Meeting.
The day was a pleasant one
and a very good crowd was pres-
ent to hear Rev. O. S. Thomas
open the subject of “Every Man
at His trade.” Many good anc
practical thoughts were brought
out by the leader. He was fol-
lowed by Rev. Mr. Grimes, the
new pastor of the Baptist church,
in a responsive talk applicable to
the occasion. Mrs. Fred Taylor
sang us a sweet solo with Mrs.
Russell as an accompanist.
Next Sunday the meeting wil
be held at the Baptist church, 3
to 4 p. m. Subject, “Choosing a
Good Name.” Come and bring
some one with you.
The Executive Committee.
If you have anything to sell ad
vertise it in The Signal. It pays.
mm
m
L
$|§
1,4
—the greater number of Men and
Young Men in this city realize that
New York is the style center of the
country; they know that the smart
styles originate there and that the
most perfectly tailored and cor-
rectly modeled clothes are made
there. Discriminating dressers ev-
erywhere know that “Benjamin
Clothes” are made in New York
and their style is identical with
that affected by the best and most
tastefully dressed New Yorkers.
—we must impress you with the fact that the “Ben-
jamin Clothes” which we have here are, and which we
will be happy to have you see are of a quality and style
which these smart New Yorkers are wearing to-day, and
the tailoring is the very highest grade, which the most
skilled tailors in the world can accomplish. “Benjamin
%
Clothes” are moderately priced, but they are the most
correctly styled and finely finished “ready-to-wear”
clothes obtainable.
Wilkins, Wood & Patteson
By O. HENRY.
[Copyright, 1906, by McClure, Phillips &
Co.J
When one loves one’s art no service
seems too hard.
That is our premise. This story shall
draw a conclusion from it and show at
the same time that the premise is in
correct. That will be a new thing in
logic and a feat in story telling some-
what older than the great wall of
China. /
Joe Larrabee came out of the post
oak flats of the middle west pulsing
with a genius for pictorial art. At six
he drew a picture of the town pump
with a prominent citizen passing
hastily. This effort was framed and
hung in the drug store window by the
side of the ear of corn with an uneven
number of rows. At twenty he left
for New York with a flowing necktie
and a capital tied up somewhat
closer.
Delia Caruthers did things in six
octaves so promisingly in a pine tree
village in the south that her relatives
chipped in enough in her chip hat for
her to go “north” and “finish.” They
could not see her f— But that is our
story.
Joe and Delia met in an atelier
where a number of art and music stu-
dents had gathered to discuss chiaros-
curo, Wagner, music, Rembrandt’s
works, pictures, Waldteufel, wall pa-
per, Chopin and oolong.
Joe and Delia became enamored one
of the other or each of the other, as
you please, and in a short time were
married, for (see above) when one
loves one’s art no service seems too
hard.
Mr. and Mrs. Larrabee began house-
keeping in a flat. It was a lonesome
flat—something like the A sharp way
down at the left hand end of the key-
board. And they were happy, for they
had their art, and they had each other.
And my advice to the rich young man
would be—sell all thou hast and give
it to the poor—janitor for the privilege
of living in a flat with your art and
your Delia.
Flat dwellers shall indorse my dic-
tum that theirs is the only true happi-
ness. If a home is happy it cannot fit
too close. Let the dre^er collapse
and become a billiard table; let the
mantel turn to a rowing machine, the
escritoire to a spare bedchamber, the
washstand to an upright piano; let the
four walls come together, if they will,
so you and your Delia are between.
But if home be the other kind let it be
wide and long—enter you at the Gold-
en Gate, hang your hat on Hatteras,
your cape on Cape Horn and go out
by the Labrador.
Joe was painting in the class of the
great Magister—you know his fame.
His fees are high, his lessons are light,
his high lights have brought him re-
nown. Delia was studying under Ro-
senstock—you know his repute as a
disturber of the piano keys.
They were mighty happy as long as
their money lasted. So is every— But
I will not be cynical. Their aims were
very clear and defined. Joe was to be-
come capable very soon of turning out
pictures'that old gentlemen with thin
side whiskers and thick pocketbooks
would sandbag one another in his stu-
dio for the privilege of buying. Delia
was to become familiar and then con-
temptuous with music, so that when
she saw the orchestra seats and boxes
unsold she could have sore throat and
lobster in a private dining room and
refuse to go on the stage.
But the best, in my opinion, was the
home life in the little flat—the ardent
voluble chats after the day’s study
DELIA CAME AND HUNG ABOUT HIS NECK,
the cozy dinners and fresh, light
breakfasts, the interchange of ambi-
tions—ambitions interwoven each with
the other’s or else inconsiderable—the
mutual help and inspiration, and—
overlook my artlessness—stuffed olives
and cheese sandwiches at 11 p. m.
But after awhile art flagged. It
sometimes does, even if some switch-
man doesn’t flag it—everything going
out and nothing coming in, as the vul-
garians say. Money was lacking to
pay Mr. Magister and Herr Rosenstock
their prices. When one loves one’s art
no service seems too hard. So Delia
said she must give music lessons to
keep the chafing dish bubbling.
For two or three days she went out
canvassing for pupils. One evening
she came home elated.
“Joe, dear,” she said gleefully, “I’ve
a pupil, and, oh, the loveliest people—
General—General A. B. Pinkney’s
daughter, on Seventy-flrst street. Such
a splendid house, Joe. You ought to
see the front door! Byzantine I think
you would sail it. And inside—oh,
Joe, I never saw anything like it be-
fore!
“My pupil is his daughter, Clemen-
tina. I dearly love her already. She’s
a delicate thing—dresses always in
white, and the sweetest, simplest man-
ners! Only eighteen years old. I’m
to give three lessons a week, and just
think, Joe, $5 a lesson! I don’t mind
it a bit, for when I get two or three
more pupils I can resume my lessons
with Herr Rosenstock. Now, smooth
out that wrinkle between your brows,
dear, and let’s have a nice supper.”
“That’s all right for you, Dele,” said
Joe, attacking a can of peas with a
carving knife and a hatchet, “but how
about me? Do you think I’m going to
let you hustle for wages while I phi-
lander in the regions of high art? Not
by the bones of Benvenuto Cellini! I
guess I can sell papers or lay cobble-
stones and bring in a dollar or two.”
Delia came and hung about his neck.
“Joe, dear, you are silly. You must
keep on at your studies. It is not as
if I had quit my music and gone to
work at something else. While I teach
I learn. I am always with my music.
And we can live as happily as million-
aires on $15 a week. You mustn’t think
of leaving Mr. Magister.”
“All right,” said Joe, reaching for
the blue Scalloped vegetable dish. “But
I hate for you to be giving lessons. It
isn’t art. But you’re a trump and a
dear to do it.”
"When one loves one’s art no serv-
ice seems too hard,” said Delia.
"Magister praised the sky in that
sketch I made in the park,” said Joe.
“And Tinkle gave me permission to
hang two of them in his window. 1
may sell one if the right kind of
moneyed idiot sees them.”
“I’m sure you will,” said Delia
sweetly. “And now let’s be thankful
for General Pinkney and this veal
roast.”
During all of the next week the
Larrabees had early breakfasts. Joe
was enthusiastic about some morning
effect sketches he was doing in Central
park, and Delia packed him off break-
fasted, coddled, praised and kissed at
7 o’clock. Art is an engaging mis-
tress. It was most times 7 o’clock
when he returned in the evening.
At the end of the week Delia, sweet-
ly proud, but languid, triumphantly
tossed three five-dollar bills on the
8 by 10 (inches) center table of the
8 by 10 (feet) flat parlor.
“Sometimes,” she said, a little weari-
ly, “Clementina tries me. I’m afraid
she doesn’t practice enough, and I
have to tell her the same things so
often. And then she always dresses
entirely in white, and that does get
monotonous. But General Pinkney is
the dearest old man! I wish you could
know him, Joe. He comes in some-
times when I am with Clementina at
the piano—he is a widower, you know
—and stands there pulling his white
goatee. ‘And how are the semiquavers
and the demisemiquavers progress-
ing?’ he always asks.
“I wish you could see the wainscot-
ing in that drawing room, Joe, and
those astrakhan rug portieres. And
Clementina has such a funny little
cough. I hope she is stronger than
she looks. Oh, I really am getting at-
tached to her, she is so gentle and high
bred. General Pinkney’s brother was
once minister to Bolivia.”
And then Joe, with the air of a
Monte Cristo, drew forth a ten, a five,
a two and a one—all legal tender notes
—and laid them beside Delia’s earn-
ings.
“Sold that water color of the obelisk
to a man from Peoria,” he announced
overwhelmingly.
“Don’t joke with me,” said Delia—
“not from Peoria.”
All the way. I wish you could see
him, Dele. Fat man with a woolen
muffler and a quill toothpick. He saw
the sketch in Tinkle’s window and
thought it was a windmill at first. He
was game, though, and bought it any-
how. He ordered another — an oil
sketch of the Lackawanna freight de-
pot—to take back with him. Music
lessons! Oh, I guess art is still in it.”
“I’m so glad you’ve kept on,” said
Delia heartily. “You’re bound to win,
dear. Thirty-three dollars! We never
had so much to spend before. We’ll
have oysters tonight.”
“And filet mignon with champi;
gnons,” said Joe. “Where is the olive
fork?”
On the next Saturday evening Joe
reached home first. He spread his
$18 on the parlor table and washed
what seemed to be a great deal of
dark paint from his hands.
Half an hour later Delia arrived,
her right hand tied up in a shapeless
bundle of wraps and bandages.
“How is this?” asked Joe after the
usual greetings. Delia laughed, but
not very joyously.
“Clementina,” she explained, “insist-
ed upon a Welsh rabbit after her les-
son. She is such a queer girl. Welsh
rabbits at 5 in the afternoon! The
general was there. You should have
seen him run for the chafing dish, Joe,
just as if there wasn’t a servant in
the house. I know Clementina isn’t In
good health. She’s so nervous. In
serving the rabbit she spilled a great
lot of It, boiling hot, over my hand
and wrist. It hurt awfully, Joe. And
the dear girl was so sorry! But Gen
eral Pinkney! Joe, that old man near
ly went distracted. He rushed down-
stairs and sent somebody—they said
the furnace man or somebody in the
basement—out to a drug store for
some oil and things to bind it up with
It doesn’t hurt so much now.”
“What’s this?” asked Joe, taking the
hand tenderly and pulling at some
white strands beneath the bandages.
“It’s something soft,” said Delia,
“that had oil on It. Oh, Joe, did you
sell another sketch?” She had seen
the money on the table.
Did I?” said Joe. “Just ask the
man from Peoria. He got his depot to-
Sunday School Rally.
Next Sunday, October 17th,
there will be a grand rally of all
the Sunday schools in Texas and
an effort is being made to have
one million people in Sunday
School in Texas on that day.
Brother Superintendent, teacher
and pupil, the success of that
day “may depend on you.” Will
you help us in this grand effort.
We especially want Fannin coun-
ty to be on the front seat on that
day and this can be done if you
will make a grand, concerted ef-
fort. Ask your neighbor and
your neighbor’s children to come
next Sunday without fail and
when you get them there treat
i;hem so nicely that they will want
to come again, and parents, you
who have your childrens’ good at
leart, be at Sunday school
day, and he isn’t sure but he thinks
he wants another parkscape and a
view on the Hudson. What time this
afternoon did you burn your hand,
Dele?”
“Five o’clock, I think,” said Delia
plaintively. “The iron—1 mean the
rabbit came off the fire about that
time. You ought to have seen General
Pinkney, Joe, when”—
“Sit down here a moment, Dele,”
said Joe. He drew her to the couch,
sat beside her and put his arm across
her shoulders.
“What have you been doing for the
last two weeks, Dele?” he asked.
She braved it for a moment or two
with an eye full of love and stubborn-
ness and murmured a phrase or tw©
vaguely of General Pinkney, but at
length down went her head and out
came the truth and tears.
“I couldn’t get any pupils,” she con-
fessed, “and I couldn’t bear to have
you give up your lessons, and I got a
place ironing shirts in that big Twen-
ty-fourth street laundry. And I think
I did very well to make up both Gen-
eral Finkney and Clementina, don’t
you, Joe? And when a girl in the laun-
dry set down a hot iron on my hand
this afternoon I was all the way home
making up that story about the Welsh
rabbit. You’re not angry, are you,
Joe? And if I hadn’t got the work you
mightn’t have sold your sketches to
that man from Peoria.”
“He wasn’t from Peoria,” said Joe
slowly.
“Well, it doesn’t matter where he
was from. Hdw clever you are, Joe—
and—kiss me, Joe—and what made you
ever suspect thatJL wasn’t giving mu-
sic lessons to Clementina?”
“I didn’t,” said Joe, “until tonight.
And I wouldn’t have then only I sent
up this cotton waste and oil from the
engine room this afternoon for a girl
upstairs who had her hand burned
with a smoothing iron. I’ve been fir-
ing the engine In that laundry for the
last two weeks.”
“And then you didn’t”—
“My purchaser from Peoria,” said
Joe, “and General Pinkney are both
creations of the same art, but you
wouldn’t call it either painting or mu-
sic.”
And then they both laughed, and Joe
began:
“When one loves one’s art no service
seems”—
But Delia stopped him with her band
on his lips. “No,” she said. “Just
‘when one loves.’ ”
He Barred Newcastle.
When Edward VII. as prince of
Wales visited America in 1800. Can-
ada went wild over him, and in De-
troit and Chicago the crowds were so
dense that the party could scarcely
reach their hotel. So many were the
receptions, dinners and other social
functions in which the prince partici-
pated that he finally broke down
through sheer fatigue aud overexcite-
ment. The Duke of Newcastle, who
was the prince’s companion, decided,
therefore, to stop off on their way to
St. Louis at Dwight Station, a quiet
village famous for its shooting. The
prince brought down a bag of fourteen
brace of quail and four rabbits. But
the pleasure of the day was marred by
the following incident:
As the royal party approached a
farmhouse an unmistakably Britisb
settler appeared at the door and in-
vited every one except the Duke of
Newcastle to enter.
“Not you, Newcastle!” he shouted.
“I have been a tenant of yours and
have sworn that you shall never set a
foot on my land.”
Accordingly the party passed on, and
the farmer, though revenged on h.i
old landlord, had to forego the honor
of entertaining royalty under his roof.
promptly next Sunday. You will
not only help us in our effort, but
will help your children to a high-
er, holier life, and to a noble citi-
zenship, Yours for a purer,holier
life. L. C. Page,
D. F. Stewart,
Precinct Presidents.
Swept Over Niagara.
This terrible calamity often happens
because a careless boatman ignores
the river’s warnings. Growing ripples
and faster current. Nature’s warnings
are kind. That dull pain or ache in
back warns you the Kidneys need at-
tention if you would escape fatal mal-
adies—dropsy, diabetes or Bright’s
disease. Take Electric Bitters at once
and see backache fly and all your best
feelings return. “After long suffer-
ing from weak kidneys and lame back,
$1.00 bottle wholly cured me,’’ writes
J. R. Blankenship, of Belk, Tenn.
Only 50c at Black & Little’s,
The Conundrum Fiend. ,
The man with the red bald spot
came and hung over the desk of the
man with the corrugated brow and
observed:
“I’ve got a dandy. What is the dif-
ference between a man with a wooden
leg riding a bicycle on a tight rope on
a hot summer day and a woman 8,000
feet in the air over a county fair
ground swinging from a trapeze and
trying to mend a rip in a balloon with
a broken safety pin?”
“That’s easy,” quickly answered the
corrugated browed man. “Each of
them has to worry with a damaged
pin.” •
“No. The question is”—
“I know what the question is. The
answer is that the man is always one
foot less than the woman.”
“No. Not yet.”
“Then the woman is-- What i* the
answer anyhow?”
“One is quite a feat; the Other hasn’t;
feet.”
As the man with the red bald spot'
closed the door hurriedly on his way I
out two Inkwells, a paper weight and
a ledger crashed against it.—Chicago\
Post
“I’d Rather Die, Doctor,
than have"my feet cut off,” said M.L.
Bingham, of Princeville, 111. “But
you’ll die from gangrene (which had
eaten away eight toes) if you don’t”,
said all doctors. Instead he used Buek-
len’s Arnica Salve till wholly cured.
Its cures of eczema, fever sores,boils,
burns and Piles astound the world.
25jc at Black & Little’s.
Blank Books.
We call your attention to our
large line of blank books of every
kind. We have single and double
entry ledgers, journals, cash
books, day books, gin books,
record books, receipts, memo-
randums, in fact everything in
the blank book line, all at lowest
prices.—Black & Little.
We sell gasoline and would
ike to have your gasoline trade.
—Wilkins & Suttle.
'A
S-
■ri
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Lowry, J. H. Honey Grove Signal. (Honey Grove, Tex.), Vol. 19, No. 37, Ed. 1 Friday, October 15, 1909, newspaper, October 15, 1909; Honey Grove, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth633906/m1/2/: accessed April 24, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu; crediting Honey Grove Preservation League.