TTrp rrVTV OT?TCOVTAV. POT?TT. 4 "CD. TVFCTnVFTR 13, 1914.
9
The Western spirit, by William Steward
Goruon. SI. 20. 157 pages. Illustrated
The Methodist Book Concern. New Yor.
City.
The pleasant tov-n of Astoria, Or.,
has a new Western poet as one of its
citizens. Rev. William Steward Gordon,
pastor of the First Methodist Epis
copal Church, of that city. His ad
dress is 527 Grand avenue, Astoria.
The dedication is significant of the
high literary value of this book of
modest poems: "To the pioneers of the
Old West, who made the New West
possible."
In a foreword by our author, this
frank explanation is made: "Most of
the verses have been written in self
defense. At the close of many a busy
day they went galloping through the
mind until rest was sought in writing
them. You will find considerable
variety in the 'menu.' If the first
dish served does not suit your taste,
kindly try another."
It is much to the credit of our author
that he has found time, apart from his
duties in preparing for the ministry,
and apart also from his work as a
minister of tne gospel, to write such
lyrical, excellent and helpful verse.
The poems number nearly 7) and are
of the safe, admirable kind that can
be sent anywhere without misgiving
or mental reservation. The book will
make an ideal Christmas present, from
the West to the East or anywhere
else wherever English is spoken.
In one notable poem, "The Western
Spirit," a compliment is paid to this
city, "as she clutches at the reins of
progress at 100 miles an hour." Read
this other verse:
Ifs the tram-D of herds of cattle
And the war whoop of the battle
It's a sort of mastic microbe in the blood.
It's the patriotic passion
Runnln wild In western fashion
And expanded with the wideneas of the
wood.
Find the de'mocracy, tenderness, and
trong action of these other selections:
0 Astoria, my pride.
On Columbia's heavln tide.
With the balmy ocean breath on your breast.
May your purpose point as high
As vour cedars in the sky.
While you safely guard the gateway of the
West.
Rethinks I see a cattle team
Crawl qd the Rockj-'e crest.
And with Its freight a wife and child
And the future of the West.
And suns they rise and suns they set.
But westward still and on.
Till the road fades into a winding trail.
And the trail itself is none.
Throueh bristling forest dense and dim
They hew a path to the sea.
And blaze a way for the march of men '
And the millions yet to be.
The lake Is all the world to him.
The world Itself a dream;
But Instinct paints within his breast.
Some placid Southern stream.
And braver crown, he cleaves the sons.
In Autumn's glint and gleam.
With kindling eye and pinion strong,
At league on league laughs he;
Th mountain air is wine to him.
And wine the heaving sea:
Until ttie southland of hla dream
Becomes reality.
1 sing for the East, I sing for the West.
I sing for the Nation God had blessed:
But mv horizon Is the race
Its radius great as heavenly grace.
Hurrah for the race with Its rich red blood
That throbs its way to the throne of God.
X challenge the heresy hunters!
Let them make of it what they mar,
But the God I worship Is Just,
And iustice will find a way.
Xwe Christmas Stories, by Robert W. Cham,
bers. Illustrated. D. Appleton & Co., New
York City.
"Anne's Bridge" Is a charming, sym
pathetic novel of pure-gold quality.
It Is fashioned in emotion and pure
(sentiment, as the sparkle of a diamond.
It reflects the tear, and preaches a
powerful sermon.
The hero is James Dean, Jr.. a rich
young man who, through an adver
tisement in Rod-and-Reel, secured
tooard with an "A. Allende," to fish at
a village called Anne's Bridge. Dean,
with bis two dogs, finds on bis arri
val at the shabby little railroad station
that the "Allende" named in the ad
vertisement is Miss Angelina Allende,
who lives alone. She is a young wom
an of marvtlous beauty, who appar
ently wished to cook for and house a
boarder to secure money with which to
help her support herself. She owns
8000 acres of worn-out land, for which
there is no purchaser. Her father and
mother are dead. Dean and she fish
together, and she Insists on being em
ployed as a professional guide at $1
per day. Dean loves her, but she is re
pellant and bitter. Dean discovers that
she served "time at a girls' reforma
tory for technical "assault" of a man.
"What should Dean do? The story has
a Christmas ending.
"Between Friends" Is an artists'
novel and pictures sacrifice and love.
It is not so strong as "Anne's Bridge."
but worth reading, all the same. The
scenes hover around artistic and dissi
pated circles in New York. Drene,
sculptor, is the principal figure in the
tale. He is a man with an unhappy
matrimonial past and his wife is dead.
Be Is blase and careless of health. His
artists' model is -Miss Ceclle White, and
she works out his reformation.
The two novels are sold side by side
fn a green-covered paper box.
The War. Week by Week. As Seen From
flew York, by Edward 8. Martin. 1.
E. P. Dutton A Co.. New York City.
There are many editorials. They are
as the sands by the seashore in num
ber and variety, and each individual
editorial has crowds of supporters who
ewear by it.
What appears between the covers of
this bright little book of 217 pages,
consists of 21 editorials in which the
causes of the present war in Europe
are stated. The writing is bright and
Illuming. Mr. Martin thinks that Ger
many Is clearly In the wrong in en
gaging in this war. and that America
may yet be called to enter the con
flict as policeman.
Here is Mr. Martin's summing up:
"When the French went mad and
purged Europe, they had a great
leader. . But the Germans have no
great leader. They have a sublime
delusion and a magnificent machine.
Their leaders, it would seem, are Von
Freitschke and Nietzsche both dead.
Their Kaiser is a gallant but not a
wise man: their whole leadership,
spiritual and political, seems touched
with madness and inevitably destined
to disaster."
This book will be In demand in de
bating societies, as a step In the work
o hear both sides of the case.
Betty's Virginia ChrUtma. by Molly Elli
ott Seawell (I. Ait. Illuj'rated In color.
J. B. Uiopincott Co.. Philadelphia, Pa
Bewitching. tender and romantic
enough to please the most critical,
this novel of Virginia In Christmas
time, with Miss Betty Beverley as the
interesting heroine, makes a bid for
favor and ought to win.
Colonel Beverley, an aged veteran
of the Civil War. where he fought on
the side of the Confederates, lives in
Holly Lodge, with bis pretty grand
daughter. Betty, on a piece of land
saved from the financial wreck that
made bleak his old age. He had sold
bis once valuable and large estate to
a Mr. Fortescue. and calmly waited
what fate had in store for him. Two
old servants remain with him. Aunt
Tulip and Uncle Caesar, part ot the
ToSeeA7oS'ljv-e
-7nfbute. To Cc3pc
JCc
it
on
Sc
old regime befo the war, and a casta
way negro boy, Solomon, who runs
away from his own people to live with
the Colonel's folks.
Prince Charming arives in the person
of Philip Fortescue, a young Federal
officer in the army of the United States.
Lieutenant Fortescue was detailed by
his superior officer for military duty
In the neighborhood, and at a Christ
mas dance he and Miss Betty fall in
love with each other. The young
Lieutenant wishes her to marry him
immediately, but Bettie demurs and
pleads that she "can't leave granpa."
The young folks quarrell. They make
up again in a tearful way and the
novel finishes with a pretty surprise
for the old Colonel.
The story has Christmas tide all the
way.
Abroad at Home, by Julian Street. Illus
trated. m.oO. The Century Co., New York
City.
One of the smart, gossipy gift
books of the year for a young man of
experience and observation.
Mr. Street is a trained story-teller,
and In these 617 pages he writes in his
frankest, most cheerful style of men.
women and cities of this country. His
book is a review of his travel experi
ences from New York across country
en route to San Francisco and return.
Sometimes be utters surprising and
even too-frank statements, but he is
never dull. Wallace Morgan's pictures
are boldly drawn and unusually inter
esting;
Mr. Street says that for some time
he desired to travel over the United
States to ramble and obBerve and seek
adventure here, at home, not as a tour
ist, with a short vacation and a round
trip ticket, but as a kind of privateer,
with a roving commission. Some of
his work appeared serially In maga
zines. This book, which is one long.
nearty laugh, is the ultimate result of
the excursion begun on such original
lines.
Here are a few of Mr. Street's obser
vations regarding various cities:
We Americans, though we are the most
restless race in the world, with tbe nossible
exception of tho Bedouins, almost never per-
" ourselves to travel, either at borne or
abroad, as the "guests of Chance." We al
ways go from one place to another with a
definite purpose. We never amble. On the
boat, going to Burooe. we talk of Uesureiy
trios awav from the "beaten track," but we
never take them. After we land we rush
about obsessed by "sights." seeing with the
eyes of guides and thinking the "canned"
thoughts of guidebooks.
If you ask a Buffalo (N. Y. man what is
the matter with his city, he will, very like
ly, sit down wltb great solemnity and try
to tell vou. and even call a friend to help
him. so as to be sure that nothing is over
looked. He may tell you that the city lacks
one great big dominating man to lead it
into action: or that there bas been, until
recently, lack of co-operation between the
baaks: or that there are nluet or a hun
dred thousand Poles In the city and only
about the same number ot people springing
from what mil he called "old American
stock." Or he may tell you something else.
The St. Louis paradox is that she is a
fashionable citv without style. But that is
not. In realltv. the paradox. It seems. It
only means that being an old. aristocratic
city, with a wealthy and cosmopolitan pop
ulation ana an extraordinarily cultivated so
cial life. St. l.ou!s vet lacks municipal dis
tinction. It is a dowdy city. It needs to
be takan hv the band and led around to
some municipal Improvement tailor, some
civic haberdasher, who will dress It like tbe
gentleman It really Is. It Is, indeed, on
rhis side the side of cultivation that St.
Louis Is most trulv charming. She has an
old, exclusive and delightful society, and a
widespread and pleas ntly unostentatious In
terest in esthetic things, in tact. 1 do not
know of anv Amer! an city to which St.
louls mav with lustice be compared, poa--essing
a larger body of collectors, nor col
lections showing more individual taste.
Ask a Kansas man what is wrong with
his town and he will probably attack you:
and as tor Los Angeles ! Such a question
in Los Anseles would mean the calling out
of the .National -Guard, the Chamber of
Commerce, the Rotary Club, anu all the
'Boosters" which Is to say the entire pop
ulation of the citv): the declaring of mar
lal law. a trial bv summarv court nartlal
and your Immediate execution. The man
.er of vour execution ,v.lu deind uion
:he phrasing of vour ouestion. If you asked
Is there anything wrong with Los An
geles?" they'd probably be content with
selling vou a citv lot and then hanging
.ou: but if von said "What is wrong with
Los Anseles?" tbev would burn you at tbe
take ani niekle vour remains In vitriol.
The Tabor Opera House In Denver is fa--nous
among theatrical people largely be
ause or the man who built It. Tabor was
no of Denver's most extraordinary mining
millionaires. After he bad struck It rich
tie determined to build as a monument to
himself the finest opera house In the United
States and "damn the expense."
While the building was under construc
tion ho was called away from the city.
The atorv la related that on his return be
went to see what orosress bad been made,
and found mural painters at work over
To fn
AncNo
Rolert
ion?, of
the Droscenluin arch. They were painting'
the portrait of a man.
"Who's that?" demanded Tabor.
"Shakespeare."- the decorator informed
him.
"Shakespeare shake h It" responded the
proprietor. "He never done nothing for
Denver. Paint him out and put mo there.'
Cleveland a municipal group plan is one
of the finest thlnus which any city In the
land haa contemplated for Its own beautln
cation. in this country it was. at the time
It originated, unique; ana tnough other
cities (such as Denver and San FrancUcoi
are now at work on similar improvements,
the Cleveland plan remains, 1 believe, the
most Imposing and the most complete of Its
kind.
When the transformation is complete
Cleveland wl'l not only have remade her
self, but will have set a magnificent ex
ample to other cities. By that time she
mav have ceased to call herself "sixth city"
for population changes. But If a hundred
other cities follow ber with group plans,
and whether those plans be of greater
magnitude or less, it must never be for
gotten that Cleveland had the appreciation
and the courage to begin the movement In
America, not merely on paper but In stone
and marble and that, without regard to
population, she therefore has a certain
right today to call herself "first city."
1 do not believe that any experience In
life can give the ordinary man the man
-vho is not a ral explorer ef new places
the sense of actual discovery and of great
achievement wnic-u be ma attain by labor
ing up a stooe and looking over tt at a
ast range of mountains glittering, peak
upon neak. Into the distance. Tbe sensa
tion is overwhelming. It fills a man wltn
a strange kind of exaltation, like that which
is produced bv great music played by a
splendid orchestra. The golden air, vibrat
ing and shimmering-. Is like tbe tremolo of
violins: the shadows in the abysses are like
the deep throbbing notes of violoncellos and
bass viols: while the great peaks, rising in
their mighty malesty. suggest the surge and
rumble of pipe organs echoing to the vault
of heaven.
The German Empire's floor of Destiny, by
Colonel H. Frohenlus. SI. McBrlde. Nast
a Co.. New Yo-k City.
In a consideration of the causes
which led to the present international
distrust between Germany and Great
Britain, and which causes are now
being debated on the battlefield, this
book, "The German Empire's Hour of
Destiny" will find, favor by reason of
the author's frank and courageous
presentation of facts, as seen from
the side of Germany. He argues that
the German Empire must grow, in
order to live, . and that as Great
Britain is the present obstacle, Ger
many must by military force crush
Great Britain
The book was written before the
present war began, and it stated to
have received the praise of the German
Crown Prince. Our author makes the
mistake, however, by hinting not
stating that Great Britain would not
flghL Praise is given one American
author. Homer Lea, In "The Day of the
Saxon," for the soundness of his
military views. The opinion Is ex
pressed by our author that it will be
in the Pacific Ocean that the future
battles for the domination of the world
will be decided between the European,
Asiatic and American nations.
Hernan-fo Do Soto, by Walter Valone. 93.
G. P. Putnam's Sons. New York City.
Here we have anenjcyable literary
curiosity in blank verse. In which the
travels and explorations of Hernando
De Soto, one of the greatest- of the
Spanish conquerors or explorers, in
subduing South America and part of
this country, are related in glorious
detail.
Mr. Malone thinks that De Soto Is
the king of pioneers and speaks of
this story of his life as "an epic of
civilization."
It is stated that De Soto was Gov
ernor of Cuba, and after Ponce de
Leon and Narva?, was the explorer
of Florida. So f-.r as known, he was
the first white man tc traverse the
states of Georgia. Tennessee, Alabama,
Mississippi, Arkansas, Oklahoma and
ilissouri.
Freitwhlte: Selections From Leetvrae on
t'olltlcs, by Helnrlch von Treltschkd. 7o
cents. Frederick A. Stokes Company, New
York City.
"War is the only remedy for ailing
nations."
So wrote the great Treltschke. the
noted German college professor and
philosopher, and moulder of German
thought.
This book of his is the first chance
or one of the first cl.ancea to read
n English what Treltschke actually
wrote on the subjects of world poli
tics, the duties of the State, the rela
tion of his country to others, Ger
many's need for expansion. Germany's
ultimate triumph over all foes, his con
tempt for. small - nations, etc The
book will naturally cause great Inter
est Just now, especially among mem
bers of debating societies. 12S pages.
Japan to America, edited by Naolchi afasa
oka. S1.2S O. P. Putnam's Sons. New
York City.
Issued under the auspices of the
Japan Society of America, this sympo
sium of papers by political leaders and
representative citizens of Japan on
conditions in Japan and the United
states has as its text the furtherance
of continued friendly relations be
tween these two countries.
The book, of 235 pages, is valuable
as a means of reference on the sub-,
Ject. Tbe essays, or papers presented i
number 3o, and are written by repre
sentative, qualified Japanese author
ities who discuss the question at is
sue from many points of view. Pro
fessor Masaoka is a Japanese news
paper man.
JOSEPH MACQUEEN.
JTEW BOOKS RECEIVED.
Lichens From the Temple. by Robert
Restalrlg Logan, poems; and Time and
Thomas Waring, by Money Roberts. S1.33,
the clever story of a fundamental trans
formation of character resulting from a sur.
glcal operation tNutnam's, N. Y.).
Foreigners In Turkey, Their Juridical
Status, by Professor Pbilip Marshall Brown,
11.26. (Princeton University Press, Prince
ton, N. J.).
Etching, by George T. Plowman. 91.50, a
valuable treatise on etching and other
graphic arts, (John Lane Co., N. Y.
Self-Culture Through the Vocation, by Ed
ward Howar.l Orlggs, SO cents, a presenta
tion of the vocation as a way to culture
(Huebsch. N. Y.).
Destructive and Constructive Food Mix
tures, by Dr. Axel Emll Gibson, a valuable
and educative oook to help tnose wno are
seriously looking for light on the obscuri
ties of diet. 138 pages. Dr. Axel Emll Gib
son. Los Angeles, Cal.
May Iverson's Career, by Elisabeth Jor
dan, S1.25. a pleasant novel that will please
growing girls. It is aoout grown-up May
Iverson and . professional life in New York
(Harper's, N. Y.).
A Far Journey by Abraham Mitrle Rih
bany. illustrated. $1.7E, the remarkable bi
ography of a Syrian who came to this
country 20 years tago to seek his fortune
and who Is now an American clergyman,
occupying the pulpit made famous by
James Freeman Clarke (Houghton. Mifflin
Co., Boston).
Working Girls In Evening- Schools, by
Mary Van ftleeck, 258 pages. Illustrated.
$l.d0, a valuable statistical and economic
study: and Care and Education of Crippled
Children, by Edith Reeves, Illustrated (Sur
vey Association Inc.. N. Y. )
The Curly Haired Hen. by A. Vlraar, and
translated by Nora K. Hills, illustrated, an
admirable story-book for. children (Des
mond Fitzgerald, lnu, N. Y.).
The Chain Breakers, by Richard J. Tal
bot. $1.50, a striking, powerful nove: with
an appeal for social reform (The Roxbor
ough fuu. Co., Inc.. Uunon. ) .
Wild Honey. Cynthia Stockley, $1.33.
illustrated, stories ot South Africa, well
told; A Syrup of the Bees, by F. W. Bain,
a fanciful, skillfully told tale of India; the
Law of Faith, by Joseph F. Randolph. Sl-au,
a religious d.st-usslon as to faith and how it
leads men to God; and A Poet's Cabinet,
selected by Marion Mills Miller, Litt.D., be
ing passages, mainly poetical, from the
works of George Lancing Raymond, LH.D.
(Putnam's. N. Y.)
Ape's Face, by Marion Fox. $1.23, an Eng
lish novel (John Lane Co., N. Y.).
Midnight Feasts, by May E. Southworth.
$1, being 202 salads and chafing dish recipes
(Paul, Elder a Co., 8. F. ).
Tbe Three Arrows, by Edward S. Ellis.
60 cents, a story for boys, (Tbe John C.
Winston Co.. Phlla.).
Fremont and '4U. by Frederick S. Del
lenbaugh, with map and 50 llliustrations, an
Interesting biographical study as to Fre
mont, and the development of our Western
territory, especially of California (Putnam's,
N. Y.).
Via P. O., by Jane Stocking, (1. 257
pages, a delightfu love-story, - with a
Shanghai end to it (Dodd. Mead A Co., N.
Y.).
The Man Sings, by Roscoe Gllmore Stott,
$1. S3 pages. 67 first-class poems of merit
(Stewart & Kldd Co., Cincinnati, O.).
Keystones of Thought, by Austin O'Mal
ley. M. D.. $1 a book of brilliant epigrams.
192 pages; and Those of His Own House
hold, by Rene Basin, $1.23. an exquisite
story of French Breton family life (Tbe
Devlln-Adalr Co., N. Y ).
REARING GEESE FOR MART
(Continued From Page 8.)
moved immediately acd Immersed in
cold water. This prevents the noodles
from sticking together and affords
more safety in handling, as breakage
is liable to happen.
Fattening Process Described.
Before feeding time a quantity suf
ficient for the feeding is placed in a
pail of warm water. This softens the
outside of tbe noodle sufficiently to
permit the goose to swallow It readily.
About Thanksgiving time, when the
special fattening' process begins, the
geese are confined in dry, clean quai
ters in flocks of 10 to 15 in pens aver
aging eight to 10 feet. Geese are some
what timid and shy when roaming at
large and when the special feeding be
gins the feeder should use every ef
fort to have them reconcile themselves
to his presence. In one corner ot tiie
pen a smaller pen of about three by
three feet is built and into this the
birds are driven at feeding time. The
feeder sits on a small stool alongside
of the pen and reaches back and leads
a goose out from the small pen. The
feeder places the goose between his
knees and opens the mouth with his
left hand, while inserting a noodle with
his right hand. A sufficient quantity
of noodles are inserted to fill the gul
let up to within two inches of the
throaL The goose then is allowed to
drink from a trough of warm water.
In which may be sprinkled a little corn
meaL A goose Is never noodled until she
has digested all the previous noodles
from the previous feeding. At first
they are fed four times a day, then the
number of feedings is increased until
the birds are fed every three or four
hours, day and night. No unnecessary
noise is permitted to frighten the birds,
otherwise they will stampede.
During this period of fattening the
gains made vary from 20 to 40 per cent
at a feed cost varying from 10 to 20
cents a pound.
World's Most Crooked River.
London Tit Bits.
The Jordan is the world's most
crooked river, wandering 213 miles to
cover 60.
MENUS OF THE WEEK
Tuesday.
Lentil soup.
Beef short ribs in casserole.
Potatoes. Minced carrots.
Celery and apple salad.
Caramel Junket.
Coffee.
Wednesday.
Noodle soup.
Lentil and celery loaf. Tomato sauce.
Candied sweet potatoes.
Lettuce Salad.
Open apple pie.
Coffee.
Thursday.
Clear vegetable' broth.
Breaded chops. - French potatoea
Cauliflower.
Apple and celery salad.
Rice cream.
Coffee.
Friday. "
Scotch barley broth. "
Halibut turbans. Lemon sauce.
Potatoes.
Cabbage and pepper salad.
Raisin pie.
x Coffee.
Saturday.
Split pea soup.
Corned beef with vegetablea
Potatoes.
Lettuce salad.
Jellied fruits.
Coffee.
Sunday.
Bouillon In cups.
Roast leg of lamb. Currant Jelly.
Brown potatoes. Cauliflower.
Apple and celery salad.
Chocolate whip.
Coffee.
Monday.
Creey soup.
Sliced mutton in casserole.
Potato crust- (canned i peaa
Cabbaae and nut
Orange Jelly.
. Coffee,
Dawn OHarasEsss
CHAPTER IV. (Continued.)
I "Name and address on this slip-. Take
a Greenfield car. Nice old maid bas
lived In nice old cottage all her ife.
Grandfather built It himself about a
hundred years ago. Whole family was
born in It, and married in it, and died
in it, see? It's crammed full ot spinning-wheels
and mahogany and stuff
that'll make your eyes stick out See?
Well, there's no one left now but the
nice old maid, all alone. She had a
sister who ran away with a scamp some
years aeo. Nice old maid has never
beard of her since, but she leaves the
gate ajar or the latch-string open, or i
a lamp in the window, or something.
so that if ever she wanders back to
the old home she'll know she's wel
come, see?"
"Sounds like a moving picture play,"
I remarked.
"Wait a minute. Here's the point.
The city wants to build a branch 11-
brary or something on her property. '
and the nice old party is so pinched I
for money that she 11 have to take their
offer. So the time has come when she 11
have to leave that old cottage, with
Lo rumance, ana its memories, ana us.
lamp In the window, and go to live in
a cheap little flat, see? Where the old
four-poster will choke up the bed
room '
"And the parlor will be done In red
and green," I put In, eagerly, "and
where there will be an Ingrowing side
board in the dining-room that won't
fit in with the quaint old dinner'-set at
all, and a kitchenette just off that, in
which the great iron pots and kettles
that used to hold the family dinners
will be monstrously out of place"
. "You're on," said Norberef,
Half an hour later I stood before
the cottage, set primly in the center
of a great lot that extended for half a
square on all sides. A Winter-sodden,
bare enough sight it was In the gray
of that March day. But it was not long
before Alma Pflugel, standing In the
midst of it, the March winds flapping
her neat skirts about her ankles, filled
it with a blaze of color. As she talked,
a row of stately hollyhocks, pink, and
scarlet, and saffron, reared their heads
against the cottage sides. The chill
March air became sweet with the scent
of heliotrope, and Sweet William, and
pansies, and bridal wreath. The naked
twigs of the rose bushes flowered into
wondrous bloom so that they bent to
the ground with their weight of crim
son and yellow, glory. The bare brick
paths were overrun with the green of
growing things. Gray mounds of dirt
grew vivid with the fire of poppies.
Even the rain-soaked wood of the pea
frames miraculously was hidden in a
hedge of green, over which ran riot
the butterfly beauty of the lavender,
and pink, and cerise blossoms. Oh,
she did marvelous things that dull
March day, did plain German Alma
Pflugel! And still more marvelous were
the things that were to come.
But of these things we knew nothing
oa ,i ,. 1 I A i 1
" . . ". .. "'i
another. Surprise waV'u'large on
her honest face as I disclosed my er-
rand. It was plain that the ways of
newspaper reporters were foreign to
the life of this plain German woman,
but she bade me enter with a sweet
graciousness of manner.
Wondering, but silent, she led the
way down the dim narrow hallway to
the sitting-room beyond. And there
I saw that Norberg had known whereof
he spoke. .
A stout, red-faced stove glowed cheer
fully In one corner of the room. Back
of the stove a sleepy cat opened one in
dolent eye, 'yawned shamelessly, and
rose to investigate, as is the way of
cats. The windows were aglow with
the sturdy potted plants that flower
loving German women coax into bloom.
The low-ceilinged room twinkled and
shone as the polished surfaces of tables
and chairs reflected the rosy glow from
the plethoric stove. I sank into the
depths of a huge rocker that must have
been built, for Grosspapa Pftugel's
generous curves. Alma Pflugel, in a
chair opposite, politely waited for this
new process of interviewing to begin,
but relaxed in the embrace of that
great armchair I suddenly realised that
1 was very tired and hungry, and talk
weary, and that here was a great peace.
The prima donna, with her French, and
her paint, and her pearls, and the prize
fighter with his slang, and his cauli
flower ear, and his diamonds, seemed
creatures of another planet. My eyes
closed. A delicious sensation of warmth
and drowsy contentment stole over me.
"Do listen to the purring of that cat!"
I murmured. "Oh, newspapers have no
place in this This Is peace and rest
Alma Pflugel leaned forward in her
chair. "You you like it?"
"Like it!" This is home. I feel as
though my mother were here in this
room, seated in one of those deep
chairs, with a bit of sewing In her
hand; so near that I could touch her
cheek with my fingers."
Alma Pflugel rose from her chair and
came over to me. She timidly placed
her band on my arm. "Ah, I am so
glad you are like that. You do not
laugh at the low ceilings, and the
sunken floors, and the old-fashioned
rooms. You do not raise your eyes In
horror and say: 'No conveniences; Ana
why don't you try striped wall paper?
It would make those dreadful ceilings
seem higher.' How nice you are to
understand like that!"
My -hand crept over to eover her own
that lay on my arm. "Indeed. inded 1
do . understand." I whispered- Which,
as the veriest cub reporter can testify,
is no- way to begin an Interview.
A hundred happy memories filled the
little low room as Alma Pflugel showed
me her treasures. The cat purred In
great content, and the stove cast a rosy
glow over the scene as the simple
woman told the story of each precious
relic, from the battered candle-dipper
on the shelf to the great mahogany
folding table, and sewing stand and
carved bed. Then there was the old
horn lantern that Jacob Pflugel had
used a century before, and In one cor
ner of the sitting-room stood Gross
mutter Pflugel's spinning-wheel. Be
hind cupboard doors were ranged the
carefully preserved blue - and - white
china dishes, and on the shelf below
stood the clumsy earthen set that
Grosspapa Pflugel himself had modeled
for his young bride in those days of
long ago. In the linen chest there still
lay. in neat, fragrant folds piles of the
linen that had been spun on -that time
yellowed spinning wheel. And because
of the tragedy in -the honest face bent
over these dear treasures, and because
she tried so bravely to hide her tears,
I knew in my heart that this could
never be a newspaper story.
"So," said Alma Pflugel at last, and
rose-a:td walked slowly to the window
and' stood looking out at the wind
swept garden. That window, with its
many tiny panes, once bad looked' out
across a wilderness, with an Indian
camp not far away. Grossmutter Pflugel
had sat at that window many a bitter
Winter night, with her baby in her
arms, watching and waiting for the
young husband who was urging his ox
team across the ice of Lake Michigan
in the teeth of a raging blizzard.
The little, low-ceilinged room was
very still. I looked at Alma Pflugel
standing there at the window in her
neat blue gown, and something about
the face and figure or was it the pose
of the sorrowful head? seemed
strangely familiar. Somewhere .in my
mind the resemblance baunted me. Re
semblance to what? Whom?
"Would you like to see my garden?"
asked Alma Pflugel, turning from the
window. For a moment I stared in
wonderment But tbe honest, kindly
face was unsmiling. "These things that
I have shown you, I can take with me
when I go. But there." and she point
ed out over the bare, wind-swept lot.
"there Is something that I cannot take.
My flowers' You see that mound over
there, covered so snug and warm with
burlap and sacking? There my tulips
and hyacinths sleep. In a few weeks,
when the covering is whisked off ah.
you shall see! Then one can be quite
sure that the Spring is here. Who cau
look at a great bed of red and pink and
lavender and yellow tulips and hya
cinths, and doubt it? Come."
With a quick gesture she threw a
shawl over her head and beckoned me.
Together we stepped out into the chill
of the raw March afternoon. She stood
a moment, silent, gazing over the sod
den earth. Then she flitted swiftly
down the narrow path, and "halted be-
fora a queer little structure of brick.
covered with the skeleton of a creeping
vine. Stooping. Alma Pflugel pulled
open the rusty Iron door and smiled up
at me. v
.."This was my grandmother's oven.
All her bread she baked in this little
brick stove. Black bread it was, with
e-rxat thir-u . r,itr'tn.t
Bul lt was sweet, 'too. I have never
tasted any so good. I like to think of
RrnumntiA, ,v,n . h.i,i
baking her first batch of bread In thlH
oven that Grossvater built for her. And
because the old oven was so very dlfn
cult to manage, and because she was
such a young thing only IS! I like
to think that her first loaves were
perhaps not so successful, and that
Grosspapa joked about them, and that
the little bride wept, so that the young
husband had to kiss away the team's."
She shut the rusty, sagging door very
slowly and gently. "No doubt the work
men who will come to prepare the
ground for the new library will laugh
and joke among themselves when they
see the oven, and they will kick tt with
their heels, and wonder what the old
brick mound could have been."
There was a little twisted smile on
her face as she rose a smile that
brought a hot mist of tears to my eyes.
There was tragedy itself in that spare,
homely figure standing there in the
garden, the wind twining ber skirts
about ner.v
"You should but see the children
peering over the fence to see my flowers
in the Summer," she said. The blue
eyes wore a wistful, far-away look.
"All the children know my garden. It
blooms from April to October. There
I have my sweet peas; and here my
roses thousands of them! Some are as
red as a drop of blood, and some as
white as a bridal wreath. When they
are blossoming it makes the heartache,
it is so beautiful."
She had quite forgotten me now. For
her the garden was all abloom once
more. It was as though the Spirit of
the Flowers had touched the naked
twigs with fairy fingers, waking them
Into glowing life for ber who never
again was to "shower her love and care
upon them.
"These are my popples. Did you ever
come out in the morning to find a hun
dred poppy faces smiling at you, and
swaying and glistening and rippling in
the breeze? There they are. scarlet and
! D,ink' b " cn
i fh"- e" the ppies
lesson to the other. I call my pansies
little children with happy faces, fciee
how this great purple one winks his
yellow eye. and laughs!"
Her gray shawl had slipped back
from her face and lay about her shoul
ders, and the wind had tossed her hair
into a soft Huff about her head.
"We used to come out here in the
early morning, my little Schwester and
1. to see which rose had unfolded its
petals overnight, or whether this great
peony that had held Its white bead so
high only yesterday, was humbled to
L n3 ajruunu in a neap ot raggea leaves.
Oh, in the morning she loved it best.
And so every Summer I have made the
garden bloom again, so that when she
comes back she will see flowers greet
her.
"All tbe way up the path to the dour
she will walk in an aisle of fragrance,
and when she turns the handle of the
old door she will find it unlocked. Sum
mer and Winter, day and night, so that
she has only to turn the knob and
enter."
She stopped abruptly. The light died
out of her face. She glanced at me,
half defiantly, half timidly, as one who
is not quite sure of what she has said.
At that 1 went over to ber and took
her work-worn hands in mine, and
smiled down into the faded blue eyes
grown dim with tears and watching.
"Perhaps who knows? the little sis
ter may come yet. 1 feel it. She will
walk up the little path, and try the
handle of the 'door, and It will turn
beneath her fingers, and she will enter."
With my arm about her we walked
down the path toward the old-fashioned
arbor, bare now except for the tendrils
that twined about the lattice. The arbor
was fitted with a wooden floor, and
there were rustic chairs and a table.
I could picture the sisters sitting there
with their sewing during the - long,
peaceful Summer afternoons. . Alma
Pflugel would be wearing one of her
neat gingham gowns, very starched and
stiff, -with perhaps a snowy apron edged
with a border of heavy crochet done
by the wrinkled fingers of Grossmutter
Pflugel. On the rustic table there would
be a bowl of flowers, and a pot of
delicious Kaffee, and a plate of German
Kaffeekuchen, and tnrough the leafy
doorway the scent of the wonderful
garden would come stealing.
I thought of. the cheap little flat,
with tbe ugly sideboard and the bit of
weedy yard in the rear, and the alley
beyond that, and the red and green
wall paper in the parlor. The next
moment, to my horror. Alma Pflugel had
; dropped to her knees before the table
in tne oamp little aroor, ner face in
her hands, her spare shoulders shaking.
Ich kann s nicht thun! she moaned.
"Ich kann nicht! Ach, kleine schwes
ter, wo bist du denn! Nachts und mor
gens bete ich, aber doch kommat du
nicht!"
A great dry sob shook her. Her hand
went to her breast, to her throat, to
her lips, with an odd, stifled gesture.
"Do that again!" I cried, and shook
Alma Pflugel sharply by the shoulder.
"Do that again!"
Her startled blue eyes looked into
mine. "What do you mean?" she asked.
"That that gesture. I've seen it
somewhere that trick of pressing the
hand to the breast, to the throat, to the
lips Oh!"
Suddenly I knew. I lifted the droop
ing head and rumpled Its neat braids
and laughted down Into the startled
face.
"She's here!" I shonted, and started
a dance of triumph on the shaky floor
of the old arbor. "I know her. From
the moment I saw you the resemblance
haunted me." And then as Alma Pflu
gel continued to stare, while the
stunned bewilderment grew in. her eyes,
"Why, I have one-fourth interest In
your own nephew this very . minute.
And his name is Bennie!"
Whereupon Alma . Pflugel fainted
quietly away in the chilly little grape
arbor, with her head on my srouider.
I called myself savage names as 1
chafed her hands and did all the fool
ish, futile things that distracted hu
mans think of at such times, wonder
ing, m'eanwhile. if I had been quite
mad to discern a resemblance between
this simple, clear-eyed gentle German
woman and the battered, ragged, sway
ing figure that bad stood at the Judge's
bench.
Suddenly Alma Pflugel opened her
eyes. Recognition dawned In them
slowly. Then, with a jerk, she sat up
right, her trembling hands clinging
to me.
"Where Is she? Take me to her.
Ach, you are sure sure?"
"Lordy. I hope so! Come, you must
let me help you Into the house. Ana
where is the nearest telephone? Never
i'ind: I'll find one."
When I had succeeded la- finding the
nearest drug store I spent a wild 10
minutes telephoning the surpised little
probation officer, then Frau Nirlanger,
and finally Blackle. for no particular
reason. I shrieked my story over the
wire in disconnected, incoherent sen
tences. Then I rushed back to the
little cottage, where Alma Pflugel and
I walled with what patience we could
summcn.
Blackie was the first to arrive. He
required few explanations. That is one
of the nicest things about Blackie. He
understands by leaps and bounds, while
others crawl to comprehension. But
n-hAn !.'- li Klr!in, amA with Ran.
nie in tow. there were tears and ex
clamations, followed by a little strick
en silence on the part of Frau Nir-'
langer when she saw Bennie snatched
to the breast of , this weeping woman
So lt was that In the midst of the con
fusion we did nit hear the approach of
the probation officer and her charge.
They came up the path to the door, and
there the little sister turned the knob,
and it yielded under her fingers and
the old door swung open: and so she
entered the house quite as Alma Pflugel
had planned she should, except that
the roses were not blooming along the
edge of the sunken brick walk.
She entered the room in silence and
no one could have recognized in this
pretty, fragile creature the pitiful
wreck of the juvenile court And when
Alma Pflugel saw the face of the little
sister the popr, marred, stricken face
her own face became terrible In Its
agony. She put Bennie down very
gently, rose and took the shaking little
figure In her strong arms and held it
as though never to let It go again.
There were little broken words of love
and pity. She called her "Lammchen"
and "little one." and so Frau Nirlanger
and B'ackle and I stole away, after a
whispered consultation with the little
probation officer.
Blackie had come In his red run
about, and now he tucked us into it,
feigning a deep disgust.
"I'd like to know where I enter Into
tMs little drayma." he growled. "Ain't
I got nothin' f do but run around town
unitln' long lost sisters an' orphans!"
"Now. Blackie. you know you would
never have' forgiven me If I had left
you out of this. Besides, you must
hustle around and see that they need
not move out of that dear little cot
tage. Now don't say a word! You'll
never have a greater chance to act the
fairy godmother."
Frau Ntrlanger's hand sought mine
and I squeezed It tn silent sympathy.
Poor little Frau Nirlanger, the happi
ness of another had brought her only
sorrow. And she had kissed Bennie
goodby with the knowledge that the
little blue-painted bed. with its faded
red roses, would again stand empty In
the gloom of the Knapf attic.
Norberg glanced up qtckly as I en
tered the city room. "Get something
good on that south' side story?' he
asked.
"Why. no." I answered. "You were
mistaken about that. The the nice
old maid is not going to move, after
all."
(To Be Continued.)
Of about 1. 400.C0O pounds of caviar ob
tained each year by 'he Astrakhan fisheries,
sriyi-. ti n .--l- - "r pent 'n xrrted.
' 'M .. . . . ... n , a B.
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