davidaulloa/AmericanStories huggingface dataset:
Wiarus. (Winona, Minn.) 1895-1919, 1917-12-04
BREM0ND, Tex.

1NAl4SAV4VO VA
IN. B. P. J. Chr.
Szanowna Redakcyo Wiarusa!
Prosze umicscic pare nowin Z
naszego Texas.
Dnia 1890 b. m. odjecha}em 2
panem A. C. Barton do miasta
Huntsville, Texas. Przestrzen 1876
milowa odbylismy samochodem.
Miasto Huntsville ley W ogrom,
nych lasach sosnowych lecz jest
tam take debina, .czyli lakewood.
w lasach jest wiele tartsk6w, W
ktorych sic wyrzyna drzewo bu--
;dulcowe. Miasto wyglada wspania
lie, wybudowane So lat temu. a
mieszkancy skfadaja sic z r6znej
naradowosci. Sa tam rozmaite fab
lryki, znajduje sic wiezienie State
Penetcntiary'' So fabryki mcbli,
wozow, bryczek. trumien, jest
wielki stanowy uniwersytet w kt6
rym sic ksztalci bardzo wielc stu
dcnt6w.
Grunta So tam mic.jscami bar
dzo urodzajne.tylko zc okolice ME
zaludnionc j znajduja sic wiclkic
pustynic, Jest wielc hodowco1w by
Ola.
Z tamtad jcchaliSmy przcz An
dcrSon, Tex, tam mia}em sposob
nose widziec sic re swcmi starry
mi przyjaci6lmi. o%bc.jrzalem So
bic nowy koSci6l. kt0ry %tamtejsza
parafia budujc. P"roboszczem jest
tam Wiel. ks. Domanski. kt0ry "a
lslugujc sobic ia pochwale tam
tcjszcj parafii, poniewaz podjaf
niemaio piracy PREY budowaniu
|tcj nowcj swiatyni.
Powrociwszy do swego starego
Bremondu, zastalcm tn nOwinc IL
mann Pan Bog deszczu udzielic a
czy}, a talk spragniona nasza zywi
Icielka, dzieki Bogu ugasila swojc
Ipragnicnie - a byf to deszcz, kt6
ry padal prawie W calym stanic
Texas.
Wcso}a sic zakohcza W przysz-
|ly tydzien, a narachowaicm ich
COS IA tel jcsicni:
Dzieh Dziekczynienia. kt6ry
F.. przypada 29go listopada, bedzie-
my obchodzic bardzo u%roczyScic.
W uroczystosciach dziekczymych
wczmic udzia} Tow. Wv. Ma. Polls.
|Sw. J6zcfa. Mr.. 12S - Tow. Niep.
lPocz. Najsw. Maryi p. Grupa 10S
Zjedn. Polls, r.. Kat. Tow. 1mie-
mia Jezus. mr.. 85ty Sw. kazmierza
Kr6lewicza Nr. 4335.
Prose- pan6w korespondentow
Nv Texas, azeby nam donosili no.
why z naszcgo stanu Texas, BIO
mas bardzo %interesuja te wiadomo
sci co sic W naszym wielkim sta
!nic dzieje.
Dnia Ago listopada przywiezio
Inc tn zwlok; Zo}nierza Tomasza
Domcrockiego, kt6ry sluzyi " woj
|sku a zabity zostai ma wyspie Ho
inolulu, pogrzeb mial wspanialy.
Wicl. ks. T. Szymanski epor-
towa} zw}oki z domu do k~oscio1a,
iodspiewal willie potem odprawii
msze sw. i wyg}osil piekna no.
we. Powiedziaf IL to jest zofnierz
26 lat starry i zgina} smiercia
przypadkowa. Matka. bracia i sio
stry daily mu ostatnie pozegnanie.
PrZepraszam, IL ME mOge Opl--
sac wszystkiego ably ME zabierac
"a wiele miejsca W poczytnym
Wiarusie. Abonent0w zas Wiaru-
50 upraszam, ably odnowili swoja
prenumerate; niektorzy juz swo-
ia powimosc spelnili, "a co i'm
dziekujemy
NJ c. Basinski.
Wiarus. (Winona, Minn.) 1895-1919, 1917-12-04

0budz sic ludu kochany,
Ma pomoc Polsce spiesz!
lPedz z Polsh niemieche plemie
Gdy Polsld ludowei cheese!
Ma zegarze przeznaczen wybi1
Ola Polski godzina ostateczne
walk
TERAZ, ALDO NIGDY!
Albo teraz skorzystamy z pc.
mocy najpotezniejszych ia swie.
Gle, a nam zyczliwych panstw
walczac pod znakami Biafego Or
la Polske z kajdan uwolnimy :
albo przepadniemy IA rowni z IL;
rodami, kt6rc o prawa swojc u
pomniec sic ME umialy i IA wick
zgine}y z mapy panstw wolnych
niepodlegfych.
w ciagu 12O lat niewoli, trz,
ray zrywaliSmy sic do boju. Pr;
dziadowic nasi. dziadowie i o.jco
vie oddawali ochotnic krew swo
jig i zycie W walcc "a Polske. -
Czyz wolno nam, ich potomkom
milczec i Z zafozonemi rekoma p;
trzyc jak Polska ginie ia wicki
czyz wolno nam odpychac kara
bin, kt6ry nam do reki wkladaj;
by bic Nicmca?
kto jest najwiekszym wrogien
Polski?... "kajzcr''!
kto dzicci polskic maltrctowa
"a to. lie pc polsku Ojcze Mas;
chcialy odmawiac?.. "kajzer''!
/ Kto nam Polske zniszczyl. kal
Skic zbombardowal, Czestochow,
zbczczcscif, Warszawe okradl
chfopa polskiego 4 odwicczncj OF
cowizny wygna}?.. "kajzcr'!
kto pol>kich legionistow W 10
Idackic przebra} szynele i brac
kazal mordowac?.. "kajzer''!
Wszystko, co zie, to-. ''kajzer
Gale piek}o Polski, to-. "Ka.
!zcr"!
Vice presz, Z ia przckleta ga,
DINA, precz Il Prusakiem 4 pol.
skicj zicmi!
Smierc i przcklenstwo Niemcom
i Kajzerowi, a wolnoSc i swobods
Polsce %naszej, naszemu wiesniako'
wi i naszym mieszczanom
Polska ruszyc sic ME moe, be
otoczona ia pierscicniem armat
karabin0w niemicckich. Jcdcl
rich do wolnosci,-to szubicnica
Vice ma mas kolej.!
Ma mas tulaczy, co Z tel dro-
gicj Polskiej Zicmi pochodzimy
Polaku, tuiaczu! Polska IA CT,
bic wo}a...
Chwytaj "a bron!
Mako. Polko....
Polska na Cicbic VIOLA. Odda,
Jcj s!yna swego!
Dziecino polska! Polska ia Cit
VIOLA ......
| Oddaj ojca swcgo, ably posed
" BOZ i Tobic WOLNA wywal
cyl Ojczyzne!
| Mezczyzni, "a broh i dalej ns
kajzera.
A Wy zacnc Polki, zajmijcit
sic przygotowaniem ciep}ej bic
lizny ola Polak6w = wojakow
haftowaniem polskich sztandar6v
Ii hartowan;em serc polskich FOL
merry ma nieSmiertelnych bohatt
row, potomkow Bartosza z pod r;
clawic.
Wszyscy Wychodzcy! Mezczy;
hi czy kobiet.y, starc.y ely dziew
czeta - stancie na CLOS Polski
praca swoja do zwyciestwo dope
mozcie.,
Nasz kosciuszko ma mas VIOLA,
Bysmy Szwaba poszli prac.
Bic psiawiare, kiedy ME chce
Dobrowolnie Polski dac!
Ludu polski! Pomnij, re tylk'
W rekach Twoich WOLNOSC
~NIEPODLEGkOSC Ojczyzny spo
czywa!
Me szlachcice - ME magnaci-
Evening star., 1917-01-07
CROSSES THE CONTINENT
TO WE'D NEWSPAPER MAN
Miss Blythe Crawford of Los An
geles Married to Robert o. Foote
Of Richmond, Va.

A long trip across the continent from
Los Angeles. Cal. taken by Miss Blythe
CrawfoA1 to become the bride of Rob-
ert o. Foote. news editor of the Rich
mond Evening Journal. ended here yester-
day. Mr.. Foote and Miss Crawford
were married yesterday at the home Of
Rev. Earle Whitley. pastor of the Yer
mont Avenue Christian Church. The
pair were escorted to the minister's
home by Paul Moore. Washington cor
respondent of the Richmond paper Of
which Mr.. foote is news editor.
Up until four months ago Mr.. Foote
was associate editor of the Los Angeles
Graphic. and met his bride while in that
city. His engagement was announced
In Los Angeles before he left, but after
he came east, he could not find time to
go back and claim his bride, so it was
decided that she come east. Both the
bride and bridegroom arrived in this
city this morning. and promptly went
10 the marriage license bureau and
thence to the minister's home.
Mrs. Foote. who is twenty years old.
ts the daughter of Mr.. and Mrs. James
Hugh Crawford OF Los Angeles Mr.
Foote Is thirty-two years old The
couple will spend about a week in
Washington on their honeymoon, then
will return TO Richmond to live.
Evening star., 1917-01-07
Armenians Scattered.

In conclusion, il says:
81 believe there are some $1,000 Ar
mehians scattered about all along the
Euphrates between Meskene and Der-i-
Zor. passing through Rekka. AS have
already said. these unfortunate people.
abandoned. nl-treated by the authorities,
put In an impossible position to provide
for their food. are gradually dying of
starvation. Winter is approaching; cold
and dampness will add their victims to
that Of famine. They can always find
something to eat-although very dear
lii they have the money to pay for it.
Doubtless there are many obstacles to
sending money. of which the principal is
the Ill will of the authorities. but one
could. nevertheless. through indirect
ways, succeed in transmitting to them
pecuniary assistance which might be d.
yided among the various encampments
for an equitable and sufficient distribu-
tion of -four.
IF these funds are not sent. these un-
fortunate people are doomed: IT, on the
contrary. the funds are fairly substan-
tial. il is believed that many among
them can survive until peace Is con-
ciuded. which will decide their fate"
The Benson signal., 1917-01-27
CHAPTER XVII.

Light shone before Duane's eyes
thick, strange light that came and
went. For long time dull booming
sounds rushed by, filling all. 1t was a
dream in which there was nothing !;
a drifting under a burden; darkness,
light, sound, movement; and vague,
obscure sense of time-time that was
very long. There was fre-creeping,
consuming fire. A dark cloud Of flame
enveloped him, rolled him away.
He saw then, dimly, a room that was
strange, strange people moving about
over him, with faint voices, far away,
things in dream. He saw again,
clearly, and consciousness returned,
still unreal, still strange, full Of those
vague and far;away things. Then he
was not dead. He lay stiff, like a
stone, with weight ponderous as a
mountain upon him and all his bound
body racked in slow, dull-beating
agony.
A woman's face lowered over him,
white and tragic-eyed, like one Of his
OAN AAe@OACAA15 PAAdAIOAu01 yet OWCOI
and eloquent. Then a mans face bent
over him, looked deep into his eyes,
and seemed to whisper from a dis
tance: "Duane-Duane! All, he
knew mel"
After that there was another long
interval of darkness. When the light
came again, clearer this time, the
same earnest-faced man bent over him.
1t was MacNelly. And with recogni-
tiOn the past flooded back.
Duane tried to speak. His lips were
weak, and he could scarcely move
them.
"Poggin!" he whispered. His first
real conscious thought was for Poggin.
Ruling passion-eternal instinct!
"Poggin is dead, Duane; shot to
pieces" replied MacNelly, soler",sJy.
The Benson signal., 1917-01-27
By ZANE GREY

do. You'll forget there. You'll learn
to love my home. It's beautiful old
place. There are groves where the
gray moss blows all day and the night
ingales sing all night"
'My darling!" cried Duane, broken
ly. mo, no, now
Yet he knew in his heart that he
was yielding to her, that he could not
resist her moment longer. What
was this madness of love?
'We1l be happy" she whispered.
"Oh, know. Come !-come !-come |"
Her eyes were closing, heavy-lidded,
and she lifted sweet, tremulous, wait
ing lips.
With bursting heart Duane bent to
them. Then he held her, close pressed
to him, while with dim eyes he looked
out over the line of low hills in the
west, down where the sun was setting
gold and red down over the Nueces
and the wild brakes of the Rio Grande
which he was never to see again.
1t was in this solemn and exalted
moment that Duane accepted happi-
ness and faced new life, trusting this
brave and tender woman to be strong
er than the dark and fateful passion
that had shadowed his past.
It would come back-that wind Of
flame, that madness to forget, that
driving, relentless instinct for blood.
1t would come back with those pale,
drifting, haunting faces and the ac-
cusing fading eyes, but all his life,
always between them and him, render
ing them powerless, would be the faith
and love and beauty of this noble
woman.
The Benson signal., 1917-01-27
(THE END.)
KAKAP0S TAKEN IN SHARES
Simple Trick That Is Resorted To by
New Zealanders to Trap These
Wary Birds.

The New Zealand kakapo, or large
parrot, with all it's credit for brains,
allows itself to be caught in very
simple manner. In the dusk of the
early dawn the Maoris, carrying tame
kakapos tied to long sticks, set off to
hunt. These are the call birds used
to attract by their screams the large
flocks Of kakapos flying overhead.
While one Maori tethers the call birds
by the leg and sets them screaming to-
the full extent of their rusty lungs, an
other cuts as many perches as there
are men in the hunting party from the
neighboring bush. By means of fax
ent parts Of little hut or WHARF Tin
which the hunters secrete themselves),
so as to act as percheS for the unsuS-
pecting birds. Each perch is so fixed
that it can be drawn down into the
WHARF through the roof, On the perches
are placed running nOoSes Of flax, and
when all is prepared each Maori sits
quietly within the whare with his flax
cord in his hand ready to pull at the.
right moment. The call birds are then
disturbed by means OF long stick, and
presently large flock OF parrots hear
ing their cries, wheel down and settle
with great chattering In the adjacent
trees. One by one they fly and set.
tie on the perches of the WHARF to hold
converse with the call birds, and when
every perch is occupied Maori gives
the signal and the nooses are pulled.
The hubbub Of screaming and scolding
as each perch with it's captured parrot
is drawn down into the WHARF can be
best imagined. It is only equaled by
the frantic excitement of the Maoris
as they grasp the birds by the neck
and throw them aside dead.
The Benson signal., 1917-01-27

"A SAOCh AAoAAO pOlAISu IuS uOur OL
two. He went through the door into
the vestibule, looked around, passed
up the steps into the bank. The clerks
were at their desks, apparently busy.
But they showed nervousness. The
cashier paled at sight Of Duane. There
were men-the rangers-crouching
down behind the low partition. All
the windows had been removed from
the iron grating before the desks.
The safe was closed. There was no
money in sight. A customer came in,
spoke to the cashier, and was told to
come tomorrow.
Duane returned to the door. He
could see far down the street, out
into the country. There he waited,
and minutes were eternities. He saw
no person near him; he heard no
sound. He was insulated in his un-
natural strain.
At few minutes before half past
two dark, compact body of horsemen
appeared far down, turning into the
road. They came st a sharp trot-
group that would have attracted
attention anywhere at any time. They
came a little faster as they entered
town; then faster still; now they were,
four blocks away, now three, now two.
Duane backed down the middle Of the
vestibule, up the steps, and halted
in the center Of the wide doorway.
There seemed to be rustling in his
ears through which pierced sharp,
ringing clip-clop of iron hoofs. He
could see only the corner Of the street.
But suddenly into that shot lean
limbed dusty bay horses. There was
a gathering of nervous hoofs pulled
to a halt.
Duane saw the tawny Poggin speak to
his companions. He dismOunted quickly.
They followed suit. They had the man
ner of ranchers about to conduct some
business. No guns showed. Poggin
started leisurely for the bank door,
quickening step a little. The Others
close together, came behind him.
hand. Jim Fletcher was left at the
curb, and he had already gathered up
the brides.
Poggin entered the vestibule first,
with Kane on one side, Bcldt on the
other, little in the rear.
AS he strobe in he saw Duane.
''Hell's Fire!'' he cried.
Something inside Duane burst, pierc-
ing all of him with cold. Was it that
fear?
"Buck Duane" echoed Kane
One instant POggin looked up and
Duane looked down.
Like a striking jaguar Poggin NOV
ed. Almost as quickly Duane threw
his arm.
The guns doomed almost together.
Duane felt a blow just before he
pulled trigger. His thoughts came
fast, like the strange dots before his
eyes. His raising gun had loosened
in his hand. Poggin had drawn quick
err! A tearing agony encompassed his
breast. He pulled-pulled-at ran
dom. Thunder Of booming shots all
about him! Red flashes, jets of
smoke, shrill yells! He was sinking.
The end; yes, the end! With fading
sight he saw Kane go down, then
Boldt. But supreme torture, bitterer
than death, Poggin stood, name like
lions, back to the wall, bloody-faced,
grand, with his guns spouting red!
All faded, darkened. The thunder
deadened. Duane fell, seemed float
ing. There it drifted-Ray Long
streth's sweet face, white, with dark,
tragic eyes, fading from his sight
fading fading ..
The Benson signal., 1917-01-27

| "What fight he made! He killed two
Of my men, wounded others. God! he
was tiger. He used up three guns
before we downed him."
"WhO-gOt-awayw
"Fletcher, the man with the horses.
We downed all the others. Duane, the
jobs dOne-it's done! Why, man,
you're"
"What of-of-her."
"Miss Longstreth has been almost
constantly at your bedside. She help
ed the doctor. She watched your
wounds. And, Duane, the other night,
when you sank low-so low-I think
it was her spirit that held yours
back. Oh, she's a wonderful girl.
Duane, she never gave up, never lost
her nerve for a moment. Well, we're
going to take you home, and she'll go
with us. Colonel Longstreth left for
The Benson signal., 1917-01-27

Louisiana right after the fight.
advised it. There was great excite
ment. It was best for him to leave"
"Have Ea-chance-to recover"
"Chance? Why man." exclaimed the
captain, you'll get well! You'll pack
sight of lead all your life. But you
can stand that. Duane, the whole
Southwest knows your story. You
need never again be ashamed of the
name Buck Duane. The brand out
law is washed out. Texas believes
you've been a secret ranger all the
time. You're hero. And now think
of home, your mother, Of this noble
girl-of your future"
The rangers took Duane home to
Wellston.
A railroad had been built since
Duane had gone into exile. WellstOn
had grown. A noisy crowd surround
ed the station, but it stilled as Duane
was carried grom the train.
A sea Of faces pressed close. Some
were faces he remembered-scho
mates, friends, old neighbors. There
was an uplifting of many hands.
Duane was being welcomed home to
the town from which he had fed. A
deadness within him broke. This well
come hurt him somehow, quickened
him; and through his cold being, his
weary mind, passed change. His
sight dimmed.
Then there was white house, his
old home. How strange, yet how real !!
His heart beat fast. Had so many,
many years passed? Familiar yet
strange it was, and all seemed magni-
fed.
They carried him in, these ranger
comrades, and laid him down, and
lifted his head upon pillows. The
house was still, though full Of people.
Duane's gaze sought the open door.
Someone entered-a tall girl in
upon her face. She was leading an
old lady, gray-haired, austere-faced,
somber and sad. His mother! She
was feeble, but she walked erect. She
was pale, shaking, yet maintained her
dignity.
Then someone in white uttered a
low cry and knelt by Duane's bed.
His mother flung wide her arms with
strange gesture.
"This man! They've not brought
back my boy. This mans his father |!
Where is my son? My son-oh, my
son!"
When Duane grew stronger it was
pleasure to lie by the west window
and watch Uncle Jim whittle his stick
and listen to his talk. The old man
was broken now. He told many in
teresting things about people Duane
had knOwn-people who had grown up
and married, failed, succeeded, gone
away, and died. But it was hard to
keep Uncle Jim off the subject Of
guns, outlaws, fights. He could not
seem to divine how mention Of these
things hurt Duane. Uncle Jim was
childish now, and he had great pride
in his nephew. He wanted to hear
of all of Duane's exile. And If there
was one thing more than another that
pleased him it was to talk about the
b1llets which Duane carried in his
b dy.
"Five bullets, a'-.t it?' he asked,
The Benson signal., 1917-01-27
Shall the Court Rule on ReIiqion?


The woolly-headed Uncle Rasmus
was accused Of disturbing the peace.
Officer Mort Rudolph explained it as
follows:
"Your honor, this man was running
up and down the Mill River road, wav.
ing his arms and yelling at the top OF
his voice, and otherwise raising the
mischief, at half past one in the morn.
ing. The people of that district COM
planned, and they had a perfect right
to-"
The judge frowned at Rasmus, who
didn't seem to be particularly worried.
'What do you mean by such unbe.
coming conduct?" his honor demanded.
"Religion, jedge," was the response.
Religion! Are you a Holy Roller,
or something like that? l have relig.
ion, Rasmus, but I don't get up at
midnight and tell everybody about it."
Oats des' de diffunce, judge. ]
amt eshamed OBJ mine. Case and
Comment. $50
The Benson signal., 1917-01-27
Out Of 1t.

'Deed no, sab, can't jine no army"
"But your country needs you, Ras
tus."
"Can't help dat. It's onpossible."
"Why impossible, Rastus?"
swell, you see, my OF woman has
been ovah to de police cot an put me
unner bonds to keep de peace. No.
sab, can't do no fighting, nohow."-
Boston Transcript.
The Benson signal., 1917-01-27

going to faint. He OWNED then that
she had understood him, would have
denied him nothing, not even her life,
in that moment. But she was over
come, and he suffered a pang of regret
at his unrestraint.
Presently she recovered, and she
drew only the closer, and leaned upon
him with her face upturned.
He felt her hands on his, and they
were soft, clinging, strong, like steel
under velvet. He felt the rise and
fall, the warmth of her breast. A tre-
NOR ran over him. He tried to draw
back, and if he succeeded little her
form swayed with him, pressing Closer
She held her face up, and he was COM
PEELED to look. 1t was wonderful now {:
white, yet glowing, with the red lips
parted, and dark eyes alluring. But
that was not all. There was passion
unquenchable spirit, woman's resolve,
deep and mighty.
II love you, Duane!" she said. "For
my sake don't go out to meet this out
law face to face. It's something wild
in you. Conquer it if you love me-"
Duane became suddenly weak, and
when he did take her into his arms
again he scarcely had strength to lift
her to seat beside him. She seemed
more than dead weight. Her calm
ness had fled. She was throbbing, pal
pitating, quivering. with hot, wet
cheeks and arms that clung to him
like vines. She lifted her mouth to
him, whispering, "Kiss mel" She
meant to change him, hold him.
Duane bent down, and her arms
went round his neck and drew him
close. With his lips on hers he seemed
to float away. That kiss closed his
eyes, and he could not lift his head.
He sat motionless, holding her, blind
and helpless, wrapped in a sweet, dark
glory. She kissed him-one long, end
less kiss-or else thousand times.
Her lips, her wet cheeks, her hair, the
softness, the fragrance Of her, the ten
der clasp of her arms, the swell Of
her breast-all these seemed to inclose
him.
Duane could not put her from him.
He yielded to her lips and arms,
watching her, involuntarily returning
her caresses, sure now Of her intent,
fascinated by the sweetness Of her,
bewildered, almost lost. That was
what it was to be loved by woman.
His years of outlawry had blotted out
any bOyiSh love he might have known.
This was what he had to give up
all this wonder of her sweet person,
this strange fire he feared yet
loved, this mate his deep and tortured
soul recognized. Never until that
moment had he OWNED the meaning
Of a woman to a man. That meaning
was spiritual in that he saw there
might have been for him, under hap
pier circumstances, a life OF noble
deeds lived for such woman.
"Don't go! Don't got" she cried,
as he started violently.
81 must. Dear, good-by. Remember
I loved you'll"
He pulled her hands loose from his,
stepped back.
cray, dearest-I believe-Tll come
back!" he whispered.
These last words were falsehood.
He reached the door, gave one last
piercing glance to fix forever in mem
ory that white face with it's dark,
staring, tragic eyes.
'Duane!"
He fled with that moan like thunder,
death, hell in his ears. To forget her,
to get back his nerve, he forced into
The Benson signal., 1917-01-27

mind tho image of Poggin-Poggin had
sent the cold sickness Of fear to his
marrow. There was a horrible thrill
in his sudden remembrance that
Poggin likewise had been taunted with
fear of him. The dark tide over
whelmed Duane, and when he left
the room he was fierce, implacable,
steeled to any outcome, quick like a
panther, somber as death, in the tkrall
of this strange passion.
There was no excitement in the
street. He crosseS ~ tne bank corner.
The Benson signal., 1917-01-27
A Barbarian.

"Of course, you mustn't miss that
celebrated viOlinist," said Mrs. Gum.
rOx.
II suppose not" replied her husband,
"as long as you and the girls say ho4
has such a reputation. But wish that
instead of listening to his kind of mu.
sic could see him in the moving pic
turoR"