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About The Sunday Oregonian. (Portland, Ore.) 1881-current | View Entire Issue (July 9, 1922)
- THE. STJ3TDAX OEEGfOJTLSJS, ; POETLASDr 3JTLT 9, 1922 N V K CURRENT HAPPENINGS - PICTORI ALLY PRESENTED BY DARLING EPEAKIXG Or DIVESTING THE COURTS OF THEIR AUTHORITY. THE FENCE THAT BOUNDS OUR FIELD OF JUSTICE, WHO THEK IS GOING TO lfc) THE DECIDINtrf BOW WfflC XVOUD BASEBALL LIVE IV THE UMPIRE'S DECISIONS WERE SUBJECT TO REVIEW BT , THE PLAYERS! AJISWEUr ABOUT TWICE) AS LONG AS THE REPUBLIC IP THE V. S. COURTS .WERE MADE Sl'BJECT TO THE WHIMS OF POLITICAL FACTIONS. . 1 - l I TAKE ALL THE EVIDENCE AND7 . 3IooRREPWJeNTA-nveS -SSAILROAB " - ' . ' $ ' J 1 . I BEEN ABVNCEO 181 y0URINC THE I WA. SHOULD NOW COME COVWN TO V J frs I coieiP0N0yiT jSyivLiv ' " HAVING HIMSELF PAGED. AND WE HAD BEEN SO.IN HOPES THAT WE HAD REACHED A SAFE AND SANE PERIOD. THE YOOTGESTOT IN THE CLASS. NOW WHAT LITTLE BOY WAS LEARNED THE IGOLTjfeN TETT IN TODAYS THOU SHALT HOT COMMIT AGtVRESS'ON FOR. AGGRESSION-O.U.SS MJKC TENTHS Of THE WARS 1 1 I ' " " . Real Love Stories! CARISSIMA: Most beloved yes. everywhere, at all times! The world can never be so wide but that my thoughts are with you. My dearest, my darlingest, be patient and brave, trustful and reliant. The days shall pass and in time the heartaches of our present parting will be forgotten and we shall only recall the magic of our dreams. The yearning year will soon pass, will it not, dearest? And the forces that take me away from my only one will later but hold us stronger to gether. Asleep or awake, in darkness or liroad day, I dream of you. I am thrilled, by your voice, my wonder goddess. I shall read no romance hereafter; I have you all the ro mance man could wish.. Tour telegram came to me yes terday morning. It was lovely of you to remember me so. I am sure J vnnr nrtp-el Hnirir shall Tint Tn 11 ytia jy' In any trial, with your soul so in- icivwiiicu ill nunc, as ii la; j, lu make myself ever worthier and worthier of your love! The ship sails steadily and none has as yet missed answering the bugle call to refreshment.' There are good books in the library, dancing in the lounge room, et cetera. I still promenade alone or. with my table companion, Mr. Wells. This is to the astonishment of the steward, who reminded me there are many young women aboard "tons of them, tons of them," as he says. But when I walk alone you are with me ever. Daughter of the angels! My dar ling love, how I yearn for thee! When time at last brings us together It shall hold us so closely her recom pense for the days of waiting. Tet I am not now without recompense. My faith in my dearest, sweetest love inspires and guides me though she is miles away. And miles away, though she is I am nearer to her than to the myriads of beings about me. v A hundred hugs and a thousand kisses to my dearest love. Adoringly, . DONALD. IN HIGH SCHOOL he had fallen in love with Martha. Her shy manner and round eyes lured hhn to carve her initials all over the desks. With the gle club quartet he would serenade his beloved under her window. Then Martha's family moved to the city1. On the eve of parting War ren wildly declared his love and was i told by a tired father to wait until he was able to support a wife. The i youthful sweethearts tearfully prom ised each other faithfulness, and Warren gave Martha a ring, set with tiny pearls and inscribed "For ever." ' Time passed. Warren was poor and left college, to support his mother. He was a clever musician and formed an orchestra in the little town. Soon his music was famous and the orchestra was called for many society occasions out of the city. In Chicago Martha had grown quiet and delicate. Her parents, thinking to amuse her, sent her to a dramatic school in New Tork. From the beginning she blossomed in dramatics and at the end of the term was offered a small part in a New York cast She wrote her -parents for permission and was told to return home immediately. Poor little Martha, always too obedient, came back to Chicago, her spirit broken. Warren's letters had stopped suddenly. At first Martha wrote ask ing the reason.' bqf there never came an answer, and at last her bubble was broken. One day a suitor, a great favorite of the family, pro posed to Martha and was accepted. The marriage was a happy one in a practical way. Martha's husband adored her and encouraged every whim. On their honeymoon in Cali fornia they -went to a dinner party one evening, given in a fashiftnable hotel. At the end of a dance, Martha stood talking to tier partner and laughing. She was standing near the orches tra, and her gaze wandered to the man at the piano. For a moment she stood breathless, staring at Warren. His eyes -met her. and he bowed, but Martha, astonished, only stared and then her partner carried her off in the encore. , During an intermission she pleaded a headache and slipped out into the garden. Her old love was burning Tier, and once outside her control gave way and she wept. Warren found her there. He had seen her leave the dance hall and had followed her. He took her into his arms and dried her tears. Then came the explanation of the unanswered letters. . His mother, thinking to cure the love affair, had burned Martha's ' letters. Warren never knew and was hurt and brok en hearted over her' marriage. And here in a tropic garden they said good-bye again. Martha slipped the ring of pearls from her finger and gave it to Warren. He returned to his orchestra. Tears crept on. Martha, a widow, having no business knowledge, was lured into poor Investments and lost her (income. She taught a class in dramatic art her only way to make a living. Her delicate nature drooped under the strain. - One day while hurrying along a boulevard she felt faint, and stumbled into a hotel. Almost blind, she sank into a chair. She heard her name spoken in alarm it was Warren's "voice, the voice of her heart. The old fire soon brought back her strength, and soon they were flying home in a taxi, Martha too happy to speak. They are married now and the wedding ring is a little ring set in pearls, inscribed "Forever." J. D. ROSIB was told to play with her little sister while the maid finished t ironing. An ,hour later mother stole quietly into the room and was amazed to hear her older daughter lecturing the younger one. "Why are you so mean to little sister? She Isn't doing anything wrong." "I know her isn't, but if I don't told, her won't know who is boss; now her will be used to me and be dood when I tate care of her." B, K. I had not seen my friend and her small son for over a year, so when I saw him playing in his grand mother's yard I said, "Aren't you Charles Smith V . "Yes, I am," said Charles. . "My, how you have grown!" I said. "I was at your house the night the stork brought you to your mamma." "O, yes," he nodded, gravely, "and you staid all night. I can just berly remember it." H. R. R. "Dorothy went to visit her uncle, who lived, on a farm. The child had never before seen a peacock, and she came runnnig into the house calling, "Uncle, .do you know your chickens are in. bloom?" . H.H. Marietta, aged four and a half. was playing with her tricycle. "Alberta, do you know the. differ ence between . a tricycle- and a bicycle?" - What is the difference, I answered. "Why, a tricycle has two hind legs and a bicycle has only one." . Company came in at the last min ute and I was short two pieces of pie. . - I gave Dick and Bessie each a penny so they would do without their pie. When dessert was served Dick, hi big eyes on the pie, said, "Well, Bessie, I guess it's time for us to eat our pennies." G. S. Russell wanted to play cowboy and Indian with his brother and some of the neighbor boys. ' Think ing the larger boys would play too rough for such a little fellow, Rus sel's mother tried to persuade him to jjlay with Dorothy, the girl next door, who was playing on the front porch. Russel watched her place chairs about her toy table, bring out her doll carriage and dollies and care fully place them around in various ways. Then, turning to his mother, he said:. "Huh! See that? She's go ing to play too motherly for me." A. R. M. Joan wa3 curled up in the big arm chair reading. She read on and on, but never cricked a smile. Finally her father said to her: "Say, Honeykins, I thought that book was supposed to be funny. Why don't you laugh?" "Well, daddy," explained Joan, a bit disgustedly, "don't you know it's hard wor!- r ading? I can't be spected to read and laugh at the same t-me but I'm laughing inside cr my mind." E. C. B. Jack and Mary had just been to the adults' service at church for the first time. A day or two aft erwards they wer6v found playing and whispering out loud to each other. "What are you doing, children?" the mother asked. "We're playing church," replied Jack. "But you shouldn't whisper in church," said mother. "Oh, but we're the choir," said Jack. M. E. M. O warm evening 6-year-old Johnnie went with some friends to a neighborhood entertainment, (n which many of his acquaintances took part. The following day one who had taken a leading part asked him what he liked best the evening before. "The punch," was the gay re sponse. My son Alec, aged 2 years and 1 month, knows when letters come from my 'sister, so I said: "Here's a letter from Auntie Isabel." He said "auntie," so I said "You can't say . 'Isabel,' can you? He said: "No." So I said, "Say Auntie Bel" (we call .. her Bel). He said, "Auntie Ding Ding." I consider that rather good ; for one so young, don't you? Mother, with young Thomas near by, was telephoning to her sister about what seemed to be tun un- plea.sa.t task before her. She had . to spend the afternoon in company with a mutual friend's cousin, mak ing a sightseeing visit in the city. - "And I expect it to be thoroughly v dull all around," she finished ..i "Mother, you could take my Ever sharp," solaced little Tommy at her z elbow. . My little ne'ghbor came in quite often and asked for something to eat. His mother, wishing to break him of the habit, told me to refuse ' him. One day he came in and said, "Do any tookies?" "No," I said. "Dot any tafce?" "No," again. "Dot any nannos?" ' I said "No." He thought awhile. then said, "Well, give me a dink." M. C. S. It Can't Be Done. . The grammar school principal went from room to room explain iitg what to do in case of fire. The pu- pils listened with respectful atten tion until he came to final instruc tions, then smiles and giggles etf-:. turbed his serenits-. "Above all things," he paid, "if your clothing catches fire, remain cooL" N. K. V.