davidaulloa/AmericanStories huggingface dataset:
The Barre daily times. (Barre, Vt.) 1897-1959, 1919-11-03

4oc Lord Baltimore Writing Paper .a for 41c
1oc Old Colony Glue .................a for nc
2oc Powder Puffs .................,.2 for 2Ic
2sc Klenzo Tar Shampoo Soap ....,.,,a for 26c
25c Rexali Medcated Skin Soap. ......,a for acc
6oc Harmony Massage Cream. .....,. for 6Ic
The Barre daily times. (Barre, Vt.) 1897-1959, 1919-11-03
For Every
House
keeper

Ballardville Blackberry Grape
Jam, a delicious combination;
Standard Price, ! can 45c; in this
sale ..........2 cans for 46c
soc Ballardyale Grape Jam, a5-oz.
size ............a for SIC
s5c Liggett's 0peko Tea, 400 cup
size ............2 for soc
The Barre daily times. (Barre, Vt.) 1897-1959, 1919-11-03
Good Things
to Eat

3oc Symonds Inn Chocolate Bar,
a cooking Chocolate, q for arc
3oc Symonds Inn Breakfast Co
Goa, ...7 1z-fb. cans for arc
Symonds Inn FlavOring Extracts
4oc Vanilla ........a for 41c
4oc Lemon .........,...2 for 4Ic
The Bridgeport times and evening farmer., 1919-04-08

poor.
 Mother stood in the doorway whim- pering and talking without an "h. ;" Shes an Essex lady, and the best fam flies there soften the "h,' but in Lon don it sounds common, and Peters young woman must have thought 1t low. She was smart, with a hat as big as an umbrella, and hardly an ex- cuse of 8 skirt.
 She peered over the matters shou1- der while they said. Poor Peter!" and all that sort of tosh.
 Of course, we had been perfectly right throughout. What business had Peter to go off to the South African war, leaving me to tend shop? Then he came home in sort of glory, and swaggered round as drill-instructor to some confounded battalion of slackers like himself. I was left to do all the work while he spent his time and our money inventtng a fash-light rife cartridge for lighting up an enemy's lines at night. If he'd gone under, who was to blame but himself?
 But mother stood there bIubbering g about the 'appy 'ome which was a durned sight too good for Peter. She'd got to making saints and angels of him, and his young woman backing her up, when suddenly she went white as a corpse, pointing at the foot of the little door which leads to Peter's bed room. Look" she said, under her breath. Look"
 And, as I live, there was pool of blood creeping and spreading out from under the bedroom door. I'd been standing there to light the gas, and, of I course, my tracks were all over the l boards.
 That's when father arrived in pur- 1 suit of mother, clustering up the stairs. "All bosh and nonsense!" just as usual. 'I tell you I won't stand 1t Maria. What does this"
 At that he looked to where the ma ter pointed, and it crumpled him LII on a packing case in the corner, hif red face all struck yellow, his eye: bulging out of his head.
 I'd been in that bedroom once o1 twice before-a poky hole, eight fee
The Bridgeport times and evening farmer., 1919-04-08

floor. It's all right to be thrifty, and fn this world money is easer to throw than to catch, but father has plenty of oof A few hundreds invested with Peter then would have made cent per cent, but the old fool had turned fortune from his door.
 When I read that letter I rounded on the old man and told him just what thought of him for being SO blind with meanness, that he couldn't see wealth when it stared him in the face. He read the letter himself and swore that if the Lord would give him back his eldest son he would dig up money enough for a million cartridges.
 "If the Lord would give me back my son." said mother, "I'd die for h11!"
 "'And I'd marry him!" sobbed the girl.
 But reminded the three sof them that if he had committed suicide and left any last dying words about his family, we'd better get hold of the mes- sage before the police were called. So I took the poker and let drive at tho lock of the door again and again until at last it smashed.
 hauled the door wide open, caught my breath, and forced myself to lock-
 And there was Peter, seated on the bed. grinning at us.
 Father bolted, mother shrtekeds tho girl went down flop on the floor. AS for newell, I've had nasty jar, and it keeps me awake at night
 "Sixpence," said Peter. Thy last sir~ pence, invested in blood. bu1Iock'a blood from the butchers shop round the corner"
 "In cheating us," said. "In waking the dead family cons science" said Peter. 50 father~s go~ ing to finance me, mother will die for me. Sally will marry me. "I won't trouble any of, you I've found you out, all of you. long ago1 l but I thought I'd just have 8 little ! family party before I leave this awful 1 hole, this horrible life, this ten years' 1 hell. I've a cheQue here from the War l Office. for the sum of 220.0o0. Now i you can all beat it!"
The Bridgeport times and evening farmer., 1919-04-08

English
 Now, Julia generally managed mat ters so that he should avoid meeting other friends until he could be intro duced as her future husband, for then his Sir Galahad style of gallantry would be excused. One evening, how ever. an old lover called; he was a bank clerk with a divine mustache. He was also deeply in debt.
 Julia was in 8 radiant humor, and simply could not resist the temptation to firt. She cooed and languished and rather neglected Mir. Laurelle, who was puzzled at first and finally took refuge in deep thought
 He made no allowances fur the civilities due to 8 fellow-guest He re- minded himself that he was an author, and therefore possible celebrity. ard ! yet My Lady of Dreams" left him | out in the cold while she fIrted au- i daciously with @ man who probably ! could not think succinctly for five 1 consecutive minutes. He did not | understand the persifage of his com~ 1 panicns. and felt that he was being | made to look foolish.
 Julia was not an alert observer and i saw nothing of the turmoil that was tearing MT. Laudelle's delicate nerves | to shreds. He fancied that the other | i enjoying tt.
 This infuriated him, and he a6rupts l Iy bade them goodnight with 8 chill4 ing politeness which prevented her from saving the situation.
 She felt very crestfa11en and sad as the detonation of his angry feet on the pavement died away, and no so- phistry of the bank clerk could reas<
 sure her. He tried to persuade her
 that the poets exhibition of Jealousy
 was common to all men, and would be for gotten in the morning.
 The next day came and the next
 and the author made no sign. Then
 she wrote him a cajo1ing little note,
 saying how dreadfully she missed his
 visits: but he was master of the
 epistoIary napier, and replied with a
 caustio courtesy that caused her
 poignant anguish
 A year later she heard that he was married, and then some one sent her , a small sheet of notepaper bearing the typewriter legend, ''A bird in the l hand should be held"
The Bridgeport times and evening farmer., 1919-04-08
A BfOthef GeW1&1 s

|, to believe there was anything wrong in the house. Lots of people talk suicide just for the sake of effect, to work on ones feelings. The whole affair might be some dirty trick, and even now, with the appalling truth staring me in the face, can't blame myself for hay ing been suspicious.
 Then. as I stood on the dark land ing, fumbling for matches, somebody rushed into the hall below and darted up the stairs. It might have been Peter, but for the swish of the skirts, but this was a woman. She panted as | if she had been running hard, and she was sobbing horribly. Then she ran right into me and screamed.
 70, Peter! Peter! You're still alive! Tell me you've not done it!" I told her I was Peters brother. and our voices were much alike. Then" she gasped, "he's dead! He's killed himself!"
 How do you know7" I asked, and | banged on the door again.
 His letter. He said goodby forever. He said I'd tilted him. and he couldnt t 1 bear any more; this was the finish. He said it would serve me right if I mar ried Mir. Launcelot. O, open the doori 1 He was going to shoot himself!"
 I put my whole strength into 1t, un- til the hasp of the lock gave way, and I fell into the room. It was dark, pitch-dark, inside, with queer smell, like I don't know what. The place was horrible. Even the floor felt | sticky.
 Beside that the girl on the landing was making noise enough to fetch the fire brigade. As soon as l found her mouth I clapped my hand on 1t and told her to shut up or clear out
 There was the fourth-foor family leaning over the banfster, wanting to
 know what was wrong. I asked for ,. the loan of a match box, said the lady
 was nervous at being in the dark. 4 little girl was sent down with the
 matches, then the people went back tc their supper-good riddance, too. Well, 1t seems incredible when ont l writes it down in cold blood, but ever
The Bridgeport times and evening farmer., 1919-04-08

came their way, why they were caught and saved for the spiders dinner.
 Over where a bubbling spring trim kled and fed some beautiful ferns and water flowers, they found quite num- Der of lizards. They live on beetles and insects, but the minute they saw Robbie, my. how they did go scamper- ing back into wet wall and nothing would coax them out.
 Over in bed of blue forget-me-nots. the dearest little flowers that we just know must be fairy footstools. why a great big hornet was found. Tony said hornets were fine gardeners, that they killed many destroying bugs, so he never disturbed the hornets. 4 tree cricket sat up, looked at Robbie, then scurried away. for it was his dinner time. and every fly, beetle, spider and cricket was as busy as could be. A big velvety bee, handsome and so lazy, tumbled into red rose, and Tony closed the petals over the bee and how he did roar. He did not like it at all. and Robbie held his ear to the rose and heard the bee sQuealing to get out.
 Well" exclaimed Robbie the next
The Bridgeport times and evening farmer., 1919-04-08
By~Elsie Endicott

knightly chivalry and offered a devo- tton of such ardor that no caprite of Julia's could chill it.
 This fanfare of adulaticn wound up with an imprOmptu ode to her eyes, which so correctly catalogued the glories of those orbs that it might have been written by an ocu1ist with a gift for rhyme.
 When this avalanche of sentiment fell on Julia she gasped with amaze ment, and soon got hopelessly out of her depth in the welter of unfamiliar words in which he expressed his adoration.
 Among other high-hown comph- ments, he called her his Egeria, which she did not understand, and feared to look up in the encyclopedia, lest Egeria should prove to be a god i dess whose gowns were made on the model of Atalanta's and other ladies of the allegorical smart set. Julia wisely refrained from answer ing it, and he called in some trepida- l ton Q few days later. He had never i been so wildly in love before, and feared that he might have overdone i it. She, however, put him at his ease on that point, and he became a ire l Quent guest at the house
 l Nature had denied him the sense of ! humor; he pranced and posed with 1 bewildering gusto, without the slight l est idea that he was ridiculous. He was madly in love with her. and she was dattered, of course, though often ! confused. He ought to have beer born in the middle ages. and careered over the meads on 8 gay1y capar1soneC palfrey.
 It was hard work living up to the legendary loveIiness of mind and body
 with which he recklessly endowed
 her. But why didn't he propose? This though worried Julia intensely. Hac he already done it in his knightly
 way, and she had missed her cue?
 She was waiting for the old-fash
 toned formula, and it never occurre,
 to her that, as a minor poet he migh
 be too fastidious to use such an ordi
 nary word as wife" He called her
 so she inferred from a madrigal in al
 evening paper, "ATy Lady of Dreams.
 In an indirect way, she was undoubt , edly his f1ancee, but she hearth wished he would come off his frenzie ! Pegasus and confirm 1t in plai
The Bridgeport times and evening farmer., 1919-04-08

rapturous periods, but she dramatized all the outward and visible signs of listening till her ears ached.
 As he said good night on the steps, he felt like one in dream. The sky was a turquoise blue and sparkled with stars. He pointed out a few of the more fashionable planets, and also drew her admiring eye to some mid dleclass asteroids, and asked her if she liked astronomy.
 Julia declared she dotted on 1t. She thought it was a safe dote, for to most girls the word astronomy covers a multitude of science
The Bridgeport times and evening farmer., 1919-04-08

dandies and thinks of something else"
 "What?"
 The refreshmentsy. probably"
 The brutei"
 Exactly; he likes to be fed, and 1t gives him chance of gazing your form as a hostess. A wise man all ways asks himself howaa future wife will treat his guests" -
 "I never thought of that"
 Few girls do Julia Their vanity makes them imagine that man would deem it sacrilege to worry about food when his divinity was warbling melo- dious moonshine about love and fow-wOw-werrs"
 Do tell me what you mean in 8 way I can understand"
 Well, all things considered, and especially having regard to your CT ratio past, I strongly recommend the role of the ingenue for you"
 "Why?"
 Because it deceives the most ex- perienced bachelor and gives a neo- phyte in love no chance at all"
 "I don't quite like that; but tell me what l have to do without any more fippancies."
 Listen. Ask the predestined per son to lend you 9 book or something g and tell him to bring 1t in the after noon. When he comes, receive him 1 in a pretty apron and have your hands all over four. Say you are sure he is . laughing at you, but you take a de- light in domestic duties and were making cakes for tea. Tell him you would ask him to stay. but, unfortu- 1 nately, everything is homemade, as you were not expecting anybody. He will think you naive and natural, and when a man makes that mistake his days of blessed singleness are draw 1 ing to a close" 1 "But I cant make cakes or cook 1 anything, although most girls. swear they can make puddings. can learn ! of course"
 There is no need to wait for that 1 Just buy a nice one and ~ insinuate l that it is yours. You can manage the | apron and the flour. Tell him yor ! are awfully untidy, and that it was mean of him to force bis way il when you looked a perfect fright" That sounds rather deceitfuI l doesn't it.
 ] 70, Heaven excuses such things fl
The Bridgeport times and evening farmer., 1919-04-08

a woman. After you are married, and he has some experience of your culi- nary eccentricities, he will me as mad as St. George and the Dragon mixed, but it will avail him naught. Now, Julia, where are we going to find the fatted-I mean the victim?"
 q know the man I want already"
 Thanks. You have removed a ton of remorse from my mind. Who Is the person for whom you project this halcyon doom?"
 He is an author-Mr. Laurelle.
 That makes 1t eaBy-no knowledge of stagecraft necessary"
 "Eh?"
 "A man like that can be lured into the tolls without trouble. It will only require little diplomacy to make him believe that you are the woman he has been waiting for all these | weary years"
 T want him to feel that" said | Julia, rather hurt by Jacks cynicism. No doubt; but when he Is en- 1 grossed in his work you will have to i show him your marriage lines to re- i mind him that you are his wife"
 He is a bit fond of me, but hates l flirts."
 If you can avoid that virtuous form of indiscretion he will be as plastic as clay in your accomplished 1 hands"
 q should like to say something ex- tremely unpleasant to you, Jack"
 Don't consider my feelings, Julia impunity in insult, you know. is the l privilege of your sex 1 Julia set about the seize of the l author on the lines laid down by Jack Homebird.
 Mir Laurelle was, among other things, a poet, and sought inspiration in a public park in the evenings. He was madly fond of flowers and hs could not grow them at home. for yor could not swing a cat in his garden l at least not with any degree of com fort to the cat.
 Julia met him quite accidentally, O | course, and asked him about his work He gave her a voluble bibliography O all he had written since 8 child. She told him she had nothing tC read worth reading, and he immedi
 ately pressed her to accept copy O his poetic drama, "The Startled Ga
The Bridgeport times and evening farmer., 1919-04-08

behaved so Censib1y and charmingly that he metaphoricaIly smote himself for not having seen long ago that life was a bowling wilderness without a wife.
 She sang to him, and he liked her songs because they were not too sac charine in sentiment
 Then Julia drew him out on the poets. He was entranced, and drilled poetry like a nightingale. Julia was obliged to admit that she had not found time to read The Startled Ga zeIle," and he repaired the urfortun- ate omission by reading out reams of that regal ba1derdash. The poor girl could not follow his
The Bridgeport times and evening farmer., 1919-04-08
AND THE POET WAS so pRACr1 GAL.

Julia was agreeably surprised. She had heard that poets were "gey i'll to live with,'' but he seemed a charm ing man and so simple. No doubt he was touchy when at work; still, she would keep out of the way in those hours.
 Mir. LaurelIe felt that he was walk ing on air as he went home, and his whole being throbbed with bliss. An / ordinary man in love is bad enough, in all conscience, but a poet in the tolls of cupid becomes a tumultuous imbecile.
 MT. Laurel1e's conception of love was august, and glittered with Ar l thurian rectitude. He professed g
The Bridgeport times and evening farmer., 1919-04-08

that, possibly, they carried the lights to keep away from the lions over in the big flower yard.
 Now, Grandpa laughed the little fellow, "I just know you are fooling me this time. Sure are there lions in your flower garden?" He sat up and looked nervously around him, at the firefiies, the crescent of a tiny golden moon swinging above them, and at the tall lady hollyhocks by the fence who bowed gracefully in the evening breezes. T guess you are fooling me, sure" he repeated, then snuggled back into the little love nest nth old mans arm.
 But, no, it seemed to be just as true
The Bridgeport times and evening farmer., 1919-04-08
0 Alter a Man

zeIle" It was really an alIegory, he explained. without illuminating Julia's mind much, though she smiled at him as if she thoroughly understood the esthetic value of the qualification.
 He walked home with her and glad Iy promised to come to tea some even ing.
 Mir. Laurelle was a very simple man, and quite unused to society. His idea of perfect bliss involved a couple of cats, barricades of books and a chaos of crockery in every stage of fragility. He went to Julia's to tea. and she
The Bridgeport times and evening farmer., 1919-04-08

Council to say that the "hash-Hght rife cartridge" submitted on such a date had been the subject of a faYora- ble report and the department was now prepared to enter upon exhaustive tests as to it's safety and practical usefulness for military purposes. The inventor was therefore requested to furnish supply of his cartridges ade- Quate for the tests.
 A supply of the cartridges meant thousands of rounds, and they might as well have expected diamonds. know father sIanged him when be ask ed for the money to make his precious cartridges.
 And there was his blood on the
The Bridgeport times and evening farmer., 1919-04-08
BY WILL STATION

as anything. It did seem impossible to believe it, but the very next day Robbie and grandpa went into the gar den. a huge place where a sulky-look- ing Italian did all the work. and never smiled only when talking about flow trees, vines or fruit Then he was quite handsome, Robbie thought.
 After all, you see. they were not real lions. only they are called lions, for they are lace-wing flies, and Tony. the gardener. said some people called them Aphis lions, since they ate ever so many soft little bugs that destroyed leaves. and the lions were very useful. Then Robbie laughed, for he enjoyed a joke, and Tony went with the search
The Bridgeport times and evening farmer., 1919-04-08
Robbie In Wonderland

ing party and found a regular menag- erie.
 There was Mrs Lady-Bug. Her dress was very red, like silk, with polka dots on it. Grandpa looked at her and said:
 Lady Bug. Lady Bug, fly away home, Your house Is on fire and your chil-
 dren alone"
 Sure enough, she raised her little wings and just flew! There were any number of garden spiders. the busiest little gardeners imaginable. and they built wheels. bridges, little tents and the like, and when 6 bad bug or fy
The Bridgeport times and evening farmer., 1919-04-08

then I didn't get a light. A cab had dashed up to the front door, and I could hear the mater asking the way upstairs. I ran down and told her to go home, but she wouldn't
 Then the girl on the landing began to shriek again, so had to hurry back with mother at my heels. The whole neighborhood would be reused if I couldn't quiet those women.
 The only thing left for me was to prove that there was nothing wrong. so went into that room with match to light the gas. Of course there was no gas, but I found the meter and showed in my 7ortn instead of pen
The Bridgeport times and evening farmer., 1919-04-08
By-JOe Busche

by eight, enough for bed and wash
 stand, and a three-legged chair.
 The door seemed to be locked, and couldn't be forced because 1t opened
 outward. Besides, I didn't want to stand again on the sticky part of the floor
 Thinking I might break the lock with poker, looked in the fireplace and there was a letter lying in the ashes. It had a foolscap envelope printed "O.H.M.S." across the top, and addressed Peter Bulsom, Esq" a year ago.
 Of course I opened it-an official let ter from the War Office to say that some fellow was directed by the Army
The Bridgeport times and evening farmer., 1919-04-08

Gharge at his rooms.
 What dye mean?" I asked
 70, nothing, only I mean totg out, fhat's all"
 "WhatI The Colonies7"
 "No, he'll" and he rang of.
 I couldn't get a word in edgeways before I was rung off. I didn't know where he'd rung up from. and theFtele- phone girl couldn't say. She only told me she was off to catch her train.
 It was just like Peters beastly sell hshness. If he killed himself at his rooms, for all the difference it made to the family he might as well have done it on our doorsteps. or at the shop, or in chapel on a Sunday. The body was bound to be identifed-nice for our family, that, and good for the busi- ness.
 With Peter lying there dead we couldn't even tell the truth about him. 1t would be an awful smack in the eye for me just on the eve of a rather profitable marriage. Suiclde-why, it's as bad as a bankruptcy or divorce. and we'd tried to keep up respectable po- sition ever since we moved from the East End.
 Of course, 1t had got to be stopped. I'd got to be at Peters rooms before he had time to return from some pub lie telephone round the corner. So nipped upstairs three at time, flung on my clothes and bolted.
 Then, just in time, remembered that I'd only about twopence in my pocket. 1 had to go into the masters room for hairpin. then into fathers dressing room before I could hook some coin out of his savings box Mother wanted to know what all the row was about, but I'd only time tc
The Bridgeport times and evening farmer., 1919-04-08

Better sdll,

Said She-wouldn't itSbe- -grandsfH we could only see ourselves as others see us?
 Said He-Well, hardly; but it would be grand if we could make o1herE zeR us sG Es see -ourHelYsh
The Bridgeport times and evening farmer., 1919-04-08

The more I thought, the more cer- tain I was that Peter would do the thing with an eye to the gallery osten- tatious. with a humping big revolver and a heartrending letter to be read aloud in court, laying the blame on his people. Even If couldn't choke him off in time. I'd get that letter burned.
 Going up three flights of filthy stairs to Peter's landing, it was hard
The Bridgeport times and evening farmer., 1919-04-08
What Struck Him.

"Didsanyth1ng about the defendant strike you as being out of the ordt@ nary?" asked the judge of the plain- tiff in & case of assault and battery.
 Yes. your honor" was the reply.
 What was4t?" queried the judge
 %rHiAt6Et," answered tha plaintiff