Heppner gazette., November 18, 1909, Image 2

"he ffcdemptiot?
By CHARLES FREDERIC GOSS
Corvisht. 1W by Thr Hnwcn-Mp-rill Company.
CHAPTEH VI.
Knrly the next mornln tha two sd-f-enturers
took their departure. The
Jovial quack lavished his good-byes
t.pon the landlord and the "riff-raff"
w ho Fathered to welcome, the coming
or speed the parting guest at the door
of the country tavern, lie drove a
pair of beautiful, spirited horses, and
had the satisfaction of knowing that
l.e excited the envy of every beholder,
s he took the ribbons In his hand,
iwiinj! out his long whip and started.
If her husband's heart was swell
ing with pride, Pepeetas was bursting
with anxiety. An Instinct which she
did not understand had prevented her
from telling the doctor of her Inter
view with the Quaker. Long before
he farmhouse came In sight she be
iran to scan the landscape for the fig
ure which had been so vividly Im
pressed upon her mind.
The swift horses, well fed and well
irroomed, whirled the light wagon
nlong the road at a rapid pace and as
they passed the humble home of the
Quaker. Pepeeta saw a little child
driving the cows down the long lane,
nd a v oman moving quietly among
the ('oners in the garden; but David
himself was not to be seen.
A tear fell from her eye, and her
shir, quivered. With the utmost effort
rf her will she could not repress these
evidences of her disappointment, and
with a spasmodic motion she clutched
the arm of the driver as If It were
that of Destiny and she could hold It
t ack. So sudden and so powerful was
the prasp of her young hand, that It
turned the horses out of the road and
all but upset the carriage. With a
violent jerk of the reins.' the astonish
ed driver-pulled them back, and ev
tlaimed with an oath:
"You little wild cat, if you ever d-d-Co
that again, I will throw you Into
the d-d-ditch:"
".Excuse me:" she answered humbly,
cowering under his angry glances.
"What is the matter?" he asked,
more kindly, seeing the tears In her
yes.
"I do not know. I am nervous, I
guess." she answered,, sadly.
"Nervous? P-p-peeta Aesculapius
HeTous? I thought her nerves were
made of steel? What is the m-m-mat-ter?"
he asked, looking at her anx
iously. His gentleness calmed her, and she
answered: "I am sorry to leave a place
fvhere I have been so happy! Oh!
Why cannot we settle down somewhere
iinl stay? I get so tired of being al
ways on the wing. Even the birds
thave nests to rest In for a little while.
As jve never going to have a home?"
"Nonsense, child! What do we want
with a h-h-home? It Is better to be
always on the go. I want my liberty.
It suits me best to fly through the
heavens like a hawk or swim the deep
ea like a shark. A home would be a
p-p-prlson. I should tramp back and
forth in it like a polar bear in a c-c-eage.
B-b-be gay! Be happy! How
tan you be sad on a morning like this?
Iosk at the play of the muscles under
the smooth skins of the horses? Re
member the b-b-bright shining dollars
thst we coaxed out of the tightly b-b-buttoned
breeches pockets of the gray
backed Q-Q-Quakers. What more do
j'o;i ask of life? What else can it g-g-glve?"
"It does not make me happy! I shall
never be happy until I have a home."
he said, still sobbing, and trying to
conceal the cause of her grief from
herself fis well as from hr husband.
She had divined the cause of her
disappointment with an unerring In
stinct. It was exactly as she thought.
At th last instant, David's hiart had
failed him.
On the preceding evening, he had
hurried through his "chores." excused
fcirr.self from giving an account of the
adventures of the day on the ground
tf fatigue, and retired to his room to
cherish in his heart the memories of
that beautiful face and the prospects
Of the future. He could not sleep. For
hours he tossed on his bed or sat in
the window looking out Into the ntefht,
ind when fit last he fell into an uneasy
lumber his dreams were haunted by
two faces which struggled ceaselessly
lo crowd -a, h other from his mind.
One was the young and passionate
tojntenar.ee of the gypsy, and the oth
r v. as that of his beautiful mother
with her pale, carven features, her
r.ow-white hair, her pensive and un
earthly expression. They both looked
t h:m. and then gazed at each other.
Now or. et below the horizon like a
war., white moon, ar.d the other rose
above it l.ke the Rowing star of love.
Now the moon parsed over the glowing
tar in a long e.ljpsj and then disap
pearing behind a cloud left the bril
liant star to thine alone.
When he awoke the gray dawn re
cealed in vag'i" o -it lire the realities of
the world, ind warned him that he had
hut a few moment to execute his
plans. He Kprar.g from his couch
strong in his purpose to depart, for
th- fever of ad.enture was still burn
ing in his ei:.s. and the rapturous
look with which Pepeeta had received
his promise to be her companion still
made his pulses bound. He hurriedly
put a few things Into a bundle and
tole out of the house.
As he moved quietly but swiftly
way from the familiar scenes, his
heart which had been beating so high
from ho.ie and excitement be;;in to
ink in his bosom. He had never
dreamed of the force of his attach
ment to this dear place, and he turned
hit face toward the old gray house
gxtn &nd ugain. Every step away from
It e?med more difficult than the last.
and his feet became heavy as lead. But
tie premie! on. ashamed to acknowl
edge his inability to execute his pur
fwa. lie CSTT to the last fern which
All Rights Rrcrrvrd
lay between him and the bridge where
he had agreed to await the adventur
ers, and then paused.
He was early. There wag still time
to reflect. Had the carriage arrive
at that moment he would have gone
but it tarried, and the tide of love and
regret lore back to the old famil
iar life. "I cannot go. I cannot give
it up. ' he murmured to himself.
Torn by conflicting emotions, Inclin
ing to first one course and then anoth
er, he finally turned his face away
from the bridge and fled, impelled by
weakness rather than desire. He did
not once look back, but ran at the top
or his speed straight to the old barn
and hid himself rom sight. There,
breathless and miserable, he watched.
He had not long to wait. The dazzling
"turn-out" dashed into view. On th-s
high seat he beheld Pepeeta saw the
eager glance she cast at the farm
house, followed her until they arrived
at the bridge, beheld her disappoint
ment, raved at his own weakness,
rushed to the door, halted, returned.
rusnect Pack again, returned, threw
himself upon the sweet smelling hay,
cursed his weakness and indecision
and finally surrendered himself to mis
ery.
From the utter wretchedness of that
bitter hour, he was roused by the ring
ins or tne breakfast bell. Springing
to nis reet, he hastened to the spring
uamea nas race, assumed a cheerful
look and entered the house.'
For the first time in his life he at
tempted the practice of deception, and
experienced the bitterness of carrying
a guilty secret in his bosom. How he
worried through the morning meal and
the prayer at the family altar, he never
knew, and he escaped with inexpressi
ble relief to the stable and the field to
take up the duties of his daily life. He
found it plodding work, for the old in
spirations to endeavor had utterly van
ished. He w ho had hitherto found toll
a beatitude now moved behind the
plow like a common drudge.
Tired of the pain which he endured.'
he tried again and again to forget the
whole experience and to persuade him
self that he was glad the adventure
had ended; but he knew in his heart
of hearts that he had failed to follow
the gypsy, not because he did not real
ly wish to, but because he did not
wholly dare. The consciousness that
he was not only a bad man but a cow
ard, added a new element to the bit
terness of the cup he was drinking.
Each succeeding day was a repeti
tion of the first, and became a painrful
unrest. The very world in which he
lived seemed to have undergone a
transformation. The sunlight had lost
Its glory, the flowers had become pale
and odorless, the songs of the birds
dull and dispiriting.
Some men pass their lives in the
midst of environments where insincer
ity would not have been so painful;
but In a home and a community where
sham and hypocrisy were almost un
known these perpetual deceptions be
came more and more intolerable with
every passing hour. Nothing could
be more certain than that In a short
time, like some foreign substance In a
healthy body, his nature would force
him out of this uncongenial environ
ment. With some natures the experi
ence would have been a slow and pro
tracted one, but with him the termina
tion could not be long delayed.
It came in a tragedy at the close of
the next Sabbath. The day had been
dreary, painful and exasperating be
yond all endurance, and he felt that he
could never stand the strain of anoth
er. And so. having detained his moth
er in the sitting room after the rest of
the family had retired, he paced the
floor for a few moments, and after
several unsuccessful attempts to intro
duce the subject gently, said bluntly:
"Mother, I am chafing myself to
death against the limitations of this
narrow life."
"My son," she said, calmly, "this has
not come to me as a surprise."
He moved uneasily and looked as If
he would ask her "Why?"
"Because," she said, as if he had
really spoken, "a mother possesses th-!
power of divination, and can discern
the sorrows of her children, by a suf
fering in her own bosom."
The consciousness that he had
caused her pain rendered him incapa
ble of speech, and for a moment they
sat In silence.
"What is thy wish and purpose, my
son?" she asked at last, with an effort
which seemed to exhaust her strength.
"I wish to see the world," he an
swered, "tiia eye kindling as he spoke.
"I have seen it in my dreams. I have
heard its distant voices calling to me.
My spirit chafes to answer their sum
mons. I strain at my anchor like a
great ship caught by the tide."
"Shall I tell thee what this world of
which thee has dreamed such dreams
is really like, my son? I will," she
said, regarding him with a look which
seemed to devour him with yearnin?
love. "This world whose voices thee
hears calling Is a fiction of thine own
brain. That which thee thinks thee
beholds of glory and beauty thee hast
conjured up from the depths of a
youthful and disordered fancy, and
projected Into an unreal realm. That
world which thee has thus beheld in
thy dreams will burst like a pln-prlck-ed
bubble when thee tries to enter It
It Is not the real world, my son. How
shall I tell thee what that real world
is? It Is a snare, a pit-fall. It is a
flame Into which young moths are ever
plunging. It promises, only to de
ceive; it beckons, only to betray; Its
smiles are ambushes; It Is sunlight on
the surface, but ice at the heart; It
offers life, but It confers death. I bid
thee fear It, shun it, hate It!"
"Mother," he exclaimed, "what does
thee know of this world, thee wh's has
passed thy life in lonely places and
amongst a quiet people?"
She rose and paced the floor as If to
permit some of hor excitement to es
cape in physical activity, and pausing
before him, said; "My only and well
beloved son, thee does not know thy
mother. A veil has been drawn over
that portion of her life which preceded
thy birth, and its secrets are hidden in
her own heart. She has prayed God
that she might never have to bring
them into the light; but he has im
posed upon her the necessity of open
ing the grave In which they are burled,
in order that, seeing them, thee may
abandon thy desires to taste those
pleasures which once lured thy mother
along the flower-strewn pathway to
her sin and sorrow."
Her solemnity and her suffering pro
duced in the bosom of her son a name
less fear. He could not speak. He
could only look and listen.
"Thee sees before thee," she contin
ued, "the faded form and features of
a woman once young and beautiful.
Can thee believe it?"
He did not answer, for she had
seemed to him as mothers always do
to children, to have been always what
he had found her upon awakening to
consciousness. He could not remem
ber when her hair was not gray. Some
thing In her manner revealed to the
startled soul of the young Quaker that
he was about to come upon a discov
ery that would shake the very foun
dation of his life; for a moment he
could not speak.
"David," she said, In a voice that
sounded like an echo of a long-dead
past, "the fear that the sins of thy
parents should be visited upon thee
has tormented every hour of my life.
I have watched thee and prayed for
thee as no one but a mother who has
drunk the bitter cup to Its dregs could
ever do. I have trembled at every
childish sin. In every little fault 1
have beheld a miniature of the vices
of thy mother and thy father thy
father! Oh! David, my son my son!"
The white Hps parted, but no sound
Issued from them. She raised her
white hand and clutched at her throat
as if choking. Then she trembled,
gasped, reeled, and fell forward into
his arms.
In a moment more, the agitated
heart had ceased to beat, and the se
cret of her life was hidden in its mys
terious silence. The sudden, inexplica
ble and calamitous nature of this event
came near unsettling the mental bal
ance of the sensitive and highly or
ganized youth. Coming as it did upon
the very heels of the experiences which
had so thoroughly shaken his faith in
the old life, he felt himself to be the
target for every arrow in the Quiver
of misfortune.
(To be continued.)
Hot to Be Trapped.
"Concede nothing?' wa3 the advic
of a well-known politician concerning
a certain famous disputed election.
His policy was followed to the letter by
the man of whom the Chicago Trib
une tells. On the relief train that
had been rushed to the scene of the
railway wreck was a newspaper re
porter.
The first victim he saw was a man
whose eyes were blackened and whose
left arm was In a sling. With his hair
full of dirt, one end of his shirt collar
flying loose and his coat ripped up
the back, the victim was sitting on
the grass and serenely contemplating
the landscape.
'How many people are hurt?" asked
the reporter, hurrying up to him.
"I haven't heard of anybody being
hurt, young man," said the other.
"How did this wreck happen?"
"I haven't heard of any wreck."
"You haven't? Who are you, any
how?"
"I don't know that it's any of your
business, but I'm the claim agent of
the road."
A Man of III Word.
Tom Lend me $10. I'll pay you
next week.
Dick That's 'what you said last
week.
Tom Well, you don't want me go
ing around and telling you one thing
one week and another thing the next,
do you?
A Talking Machine,
Brother How did you like
mj
friend, Mr. Smith.
Sister Why, he yawned three times
while I was talking to him.
Brother Perhaps he wasn't yawn
ing. He may have been trying to say
something.
I p to Illm.
Stern Parent So you would be wili
ng to die for my daughter, would you?
Ardent Suitor I would, Indeed!
Stern Parent All right, then. Get
your life Insured for $20,000 and make
good.
A 1'nrtlntf Shot.
Doctor Your case is a very serious
one, sir, and I think a consultation
had better be held.
Patient Very well, doctor; have as
many accomplices as you like.
In Kaxlilon.
Crawford So your wife doesn'i
make mince pies any more?
Crabshaw No. She uses all the
odds and ends around the house ai
trimmings for her hat. Puck.
Generous Johnny.
Minister Johnny, do you kno
where little boys go tjiat go fishing on
Sunday?
Johnny Sure. Follow me an' I'll
show you.
A Foregone (onrlatloa.
"Everybody thinks that Amelia is
such a sweet girl, and I can't see it."
"You can't? Why, man, her father
made a big fortune In the sugar busi
ness." Headr for Trial.
"The charge Is desertion.
Whatll
be your defense?"
"Temporary insanity, or
I ntror
would have married her."
The Apple Barrel.
It stood in the cellar low and dim,
Where the cobwebs swept and sway
ed,
Holding the store from bough- and
limb
At the feet of autumn laid.
And oft, when the days were short
and drear
And the north wind shrieked and
roared,
We children sought in the corner h
And drew on the toothsome hoard
Foi thus through the long, long win
. ter-time
It answered our every call
With wine of the summer's golden
prime
Sealed by the hand of fall.
The best there was of the earth and
air.
Of rain and sun and breeze.
Changed to a pippin sweet and rare
By the art of the faithful trees.
A wonderful barrel was this, had we
Its message but rightly heard,
Filled with the tales of wind and bee,
Of cricket and moth and bird;
Rife with the bliss of the fragrant
June
When skies were soft and blue;
Thronged with the dreams of a har
vest moon
O'er fields drenched deep with dew.
Oh, homely barrel, I'd fain essay
Your marvelous skill again;
Take me back to the past, I pray,
As willingly now as then
Back to the tender morns and eves,
The noontides warm and still,
The fleecy clouds and the spangled
leaves
Of the orchard over the hill.
Edwin L. Sabln, in Llpplncott's.
Composition of Vegetable.
-PRCm 10.09
-OR80HY0RATE5 5
MINERAL" MATTER 0.063 X'
"WATER
rT O.VA
ctuLuose vi
tWWI. MATTE J lj)t
While vegetables are given a low
value as food for man or beast on
account of their large percentage of
water, the dry portion is highly nu
tritive. In the potato the 22 per cent
of solid matter Is nearly all available
for food. The protelds as flesh form
ers and the carbohydrates as fat pro
ducers are essential parts of food.
Keep the Itoad Draw Golnit.
Bad roads are an extravagance that
no farming community can afford.
Just what they cost In unnecessary
expenses it takes but a moment to de
termine. A team and driver are reasonably
worth $3 a day, and by the use of
these it is possible to deliver to mar
ket from your home 100 bushels of
corn. Hauling over good roads, the
cost of delivery Is 3 cents per bushel.
But If, in consequence of bad roads,
but fifty bushels can be delivered, the
cost is doubled and the difference Is
what the impassible roads cost you.
Continue this calculation, applying it
to the hauling of all your crops, and
it quickly becomes apparent that It
amounts to a very burdensome tax.
Good roads help in every way; they
promote sociability by making friends
and relatives accessible, and by means
of them it is easier to reach the
schools and churches and to generally
do and enjoy the things which make
life really worth living.
Sunflowers for Poultry.
Sunflowers are grown by many
poultrymen and farmers. The seed
make an excellent feed for poultry
and can be easily and profitably pro
duced. The seeds can be sown in
rows and the crop cultivated the same
as corn. When ripe the seed is thrash
ed out and fed to the poultry either
whole or ground. If the sunflower
beads are thrown Into the chicken
yard, the birds will thresh the seeds
out themselves with no expense to the
grower. It is an excellent fattening
food, and when fed with cracked corn
gives good results.
It is too late this season to sow the
sunflower seeds, but it Is a good thing
to keep in mind for another year.
Farmers' Guide.
nrnavttw"
V-A -I. XS" -. f
1 -J
Hired Man and the Boms.
An exchange presents each of the
two sides of the farm labor question
in this somewhat homely but forcible
manner:
' He felt that he was working too
hard for the pay received; he knew
better than the boss how the work
should be laid out; he caroused on
Sunday and was dead to the world
Monday; he was jealous of the other
hired men he got fired!
"He had no regular hours; he
shifted teams from one man to anoth
er; he spent his time in town; he had
plenty of spare room in his house, but
gave the hired man the best in the
hay loft; he grumbled about trifles-'
his hired man quit."
A Troublesome Weed.
Reports come from Ontario that the
perennial sow thistle has gained a
firm foothold, making it the greatest
weed enemy with which the farmer
has to contend. It has been spread
fram one farm to another by the
threshing machines, the numerous
seeds being easily carried. One meth
od being advocated for its eradication
is to sow winter rye in September and
pasture It the folowlng spring. This
can be followed in June by rye, tur
nips or buckwheat. In this way crop3
are secured and the sow tnistie
fought at the same time.
Fowls and Esrir.
Farmers' Bulletin No. 128, United
States Department of Agriculture,
says: "The eggs of different kinds of
domestic poultry vary in size as well
as appearance, and there is also a con
siderable range in the size of eggs of
different breeds. Thus, hens' eggs
range from the small ones laid by ban
tams to the large ones laid by such
breeds as light Brahmas. On an av
erage a hep's egg Is 2.27 inches in
length, and 1.72 inches in diameter or
width at the broadest point, and
weighs about 2 ounces, or eight eggs
to the pound (l'i pounds per dozen).
Generally speaking, the eggs of pullets
are smaller than those of old hens;
those of ducks somewhat larger than
hens' eggs, while those of turkeys and
geese are considerably larger. Guinea
eggs, on an average, measure lxl!a
nches, are rather pointed at one end.
and weigh about 1.4 ounces each, or
17 ounces to the dozen. Goose eggs
weigh about 5.5 to 6.7 ounces each, or
about 5 pounds to the dozen that is.
more than three times as much as
hens' eggs. The eggs of wild birds are
said to be smaller than those of the
same species when domesticaeed. Wild
ducks' eggs are said to be, on an av
erage, 1.97 to 2.17 inches in diameter;
domestic ducks' eggs, 2.36 to 2.56
inches.
Woman In Chicken Yard.
September is a good month to look
about for stock, and if one has not al
ready settled upon a particular varie
ty, a hint in that direction may be of
some use. Unless a woman can afford
to keep plenty of help she should not
keep over fifty fowls. I feel that I am
writing for the woman who takes care
of her chickens herself, and to her
would say tha,t if she has the room it
is a good plan to keep a small flock of
two varieties one for broilers or
fricassees and one for laying eggs, and
when it comes to the genuine busi
ness, then give me the Black Mlnor-
as. The eggs are large and pure
white. The hens are almost perpetual
layers and do- not make good moth
ers. The eggs will command tne niga-
st fancy prices, and if your stock is
pure you can sell the eggs for sittings
at prices according to the stock you
keep.
The Plymouth Itocks or 'the Wyan-
dottes are suitable breeds for broil
ers or for home use. I think there is
more money in the selling of eggs to
private customers, or even in the mar
kets, than in broilers. There is less
work and less worry. The latter fowl
is a good layer if she does not get too
fat, but when this occurs make a pot
pie of her.
Hints on Dob' Raising;.
Salt buried a few inches in the
ground in certain spots will attract
the hogs and confine them pretty close
ly to such places.
It Is natural for a hog to root, but
If you want to prevent him from do
ing bo a simple ring In the snout will
answer the purpose.
It Is a great mistake to mark a hog
by mutilating his ears. Better use a
meUl tag. -
CHAIB TREASURED HEIRLOOM.
Relifl Used for John Alden's Ilescond
nnts More than itOO Yurs.
In his office at 68 Essex street Wil
liam P. Church has a colonial high
chair more than 200 years old that
has held several generations of round
faced youngsters, all descendants of
John Alden of the Mayflower, a Now
York. Herald's Boston dispatch says.
Mr. Church is a direct descendant of
Alden. The chair was given to h'm
by his aunt, Mrs. Elizabeth Church
Stoddard, daughter of Lydla Alden,
who married Gamaliel Church. "I am
sure that It belonged to your great
grandfather," Mrs. Stoddard told him.
"It may have belonged to your great-great-grandfather."
Mr. Church feels assured that this
chair was used in the family of the
fifth John Alden, born In 1740, who
lived In Middleboro. It may have been
handed down to him by his father,
John Alden, born in 1718, who also
lived In Middleboro.
The chair bears evidence of its age.
Well it may, for the Alden children
grew up very much as children grow
up to-day. On the arms of the chair
are countless childish scratches. There
are also one or two generous jabs with
a knife or some other sharp instru
ment. The hickory footrung is im
pressed with the kickings of two and
possibly three generations of chubby
feet.
Fashioned in the days when house
hold furniture was homemade and
"made for keeps," this heirloom Is an
interesting bit of workmanship. A
friend of Mr. Church interested in
antiques came Into his office to glance
at it one day and found that he had
spent a half-hour before he had finish
ed turning it over.
There is not a nail in it. The join
ings.' which only show a fine seam,
and which have lasted for centuries,
were made with pegs. The small
pieces of wood at the back of the chair
were made from oak barrel staves. A
piece of homespun linen duck, sub
stantial and woven on an old-time
hand loom by the mother or sister In
the family, is stretched across the seat.
About an inch from the floor were
originally four cross pieces. Evident
ly the temptation of placing one's toes
on one of these rungs and rocking
backward and forward, irrespective of
whoever happened to be in the chair,
was too much for the small Aldens.
Three of the pieces have been rocked
away. Despite this the old chair wob
bles only sllgjilly.
The wasp can cut its way through
seashell.
The first motor exhibition was held
in England in 1895.
Of the 12,000,000 acres under culti
vation in Burma, 8,000,000 are devoted
to rice.
The London hansom seems to be on
the decline. Other types of convey
ance are taking its place.
Prince Edward of Wales, future King
of England, until -a few weeks ago re
ceived 21 cents pocket money each
week .while in residence at Osborne
Naval College.
Germany's top output for 1907 is es
timated at $25,000,000, of which $19,-
tX0,0M0 was exported, and of the total
the United States and Great Britain
took more than half.
Compulsory study of the ancient
Irish language in the new national
university at Dublin is expected to
meet some opposition. At Queen's Col
lege, in Cork, Irish classes were in
stituted four years ago. '1 he first year
four pupils appeared, only two of
whom stayed out the course; the sec
ond year there was a class of two, and
since then there have been no students
of Irish at all in the college.
There are practically no fire engines
in Japan, but the Yokohama City
Council has made an appropriation to
buy two In the old days of bam
boo houses, which the owners could
take apart and carry off under the
arms, fires caused little concern in the
land of the Mikado, but the Yankees
of the East have been constructing real
buildings in recent years. Some de
structive blazes, with heavy losses,
started the fire engine movement.
It beats all what odd questions
reach some of the departments of gov
ernment in Washington. Not long ago
the treasury received a letter from a
Pittsburg man who had made a bet.
asking "How many cents are there in
a bushel?" The answer was not easy
to offei. If the man had asked alout
pounds he might have received a def
inite answer. As it was, he got In re
ply a guess from a clerk, that "rough
ly there ore something like $320, or
32,000 pennies."
The .aL.-d Truth.
There is an ancient fable which tells
us that on a summer afternoon Truth
and Falsehood set out to bathe togeth
er. They found a crystal spring. They
bathed in the cool, fresh water, and
Falsehood, emerging first, clothed
herself in the garments of Truth and
went her way. But Truth, unwilling
to put on the garb of Falsehood, de
parted naked. And to this day False
hood wears Truth's fair white robes,
so that many persons mistake her for '
Truth's very self, but poor Truth still
goes naked.
Many people who have no time to
play are always clamoring for some
thing to play with.