davidaulloa/AmericanStories huggingface dataset:
New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1922-08-20
Hill. r. !. The couple will sail for
Europe on August 20.

Hill. r.. /. The couple will sail for
Europe on August 20.
B Mr.. Daniel Kirkwood vallingforti,
married Miss Margaret Twins Greene,
Of RI Park Avenuc, IN tho Marble Col
leaifte Church yesterday afternoon.
Mr. WaIiingforsf Ia the Son OF Mr..
Charles A. Waliiugfof,i. HE was di-
yorssd from his first wife, Mrs Eta
Wallingford, al Sort Worth, Texas, on
May 4, 1920.
5 Mr.. and Mrs. G. nj. Clark. OF South
Orange. N. 81, have announced the en-
gagemenf of their daughter, Miss Alma
Isabel Clark. to Mr.. Nelson Barrett
Grove, also OF South Orange. Mr.. tirove
ID the son of Dir. and Mrs. Wellington
g. Grove, Of Buffalo.
Announcement has been made of che
marriage Of Miss Dorothy Grummere
kimber, daughter OF the Rev. and Mrs
Robert Bootman Kimber, Of Chicago,
70 Mr.. Albert A. Goessling, son Of Mr..
ard Mrs. Albert j. H. Goessling, Of
Bronxville. Mrs. johnson Titus Wat
kins, Of White Plains, was matron Of
honor. The groom's father acted as
best man. The wedding was in st.
James's Church, Chicago, last Tuesday,
the brides father officiating.
Mrs. Florence c.. Rock, Of Rock
Haven. Oyster Bay, was married last
night at her home to Mr.. John III. Berk.
The bridesmaids were Miss Pauline
Berk, daughter OF the bridegroom. and
Miss Fannie Samuels, niece of the
bride. Mr.. Harry Farson was best
man. The bride was given away by
her brother, Mr.. Charles H. Wood, Of
Watervliet, N. Y.
Mr.. and Mrs. Anthony j. Drexel Bid
die, who have been touring in northern
New England, arrived in the city from
Stockbridge and are stopping at the
Lorraine.
Mrs. Kermit Roosevelt entertained
at luncheon yesterday at Sherry's for
her mother. Mrs. Joseph E. Willard.
Mrs. Charles E. Pettinos also enter
tanned at luncheon yesterday,
New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1922-08-20
Fire Record

a, ~. DAMAGE
20: ......s........ Considerable
l2:4b-l5s H. ssth ST.; Redman &
1:2o-S4S 2. 1Ath st.; unknown. Mona
!:so--246 ". ssth ST.; unknown .Trifiing
l:so-bo ". 28th st.; Queens Dress
... mLH. 70. ........ Trtfing
t:45-234o Belmont ay.. the Bronx.
Is. Manila, New York s. Unknown
z:l0--ln front of $50 w. oath ST..
Taxicab: Joseph Renr. Trif1inr
S'io-5l7 y. I'D ST.; Modern Brass
rar o9 70. .5.i.s., Triffnp
a:oe-5s W. l25th st.; unknown. :. !. Triiins
s:4o--176 Lewis St.: rubbish In yard :-
Herman Weisberger ..... unisnown
~ .zo--'Ayenue A and 7th st; 14th st. =.
....'s Nina
l:2o-4ss LIST av.; Goldberg Bros iIn,tnows
z'is---lao W. SD ST.; Charles stilka ]
a.16 ene uy Unknown
4:9e-as W; 10th ST.: unknown. Unknown
81. 5e-asS ". 10th st.; unknown {. !. None
4e.ss--a42 W, l25th st.; unknown. Unknnwn
s.as-soa H. 7ad Ct, Rosenthai Bros roe :" )
Unknewn
New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1922-08-20
German Girls Work Month
Now for Pair of Stocking,

CHICAGO, Aug. 19.--German work
ing girls are forced to labor a month
to earn sufficient to buy a pair Of
stockings they cost 500 marks a pair
while the wealthy classes ar spending
money with the abandon of the DAYS
that marked Germany's most prosper
Gus period.
This is the report brought hack to-
day by Mrs. Frank Schaedler. former
leader in the work Of the German
War Relief Association and for several
months an observer abroad.
New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1922-08-20

companying DR.. Gertrude R. Brigham,
Of George Washington University, on
a visit to the art centers abroad. A
series of parties will be given next
week in honor of Miss Smiths return.
Miss Byrd Mock, who is leaving
Washington next week for New York,
where she will remain indefinitely, will
give farewell musical tomorrow eve-
ming at her studio in the Old Brick
Capitol, which she is closing next
week,
New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1922-08-20
DIR. SAMUEL MAXWELL JOHNSON

DR.. Samuel Maxwell johnson s;x+v
six years old, retired police surgson
died at the Hotel st. George, Clark ana
henry streets, Brooklyn, at 10 O'clock
Friday night. WV"
The funeral services, which will bs
private, will be held tomorrow morn
ing at the Hotel St. George. The body
Will be taken to Johnstown, N. Y. for
burial. DR.. Johnson was appointed a
police surgeon on January 8, 1896. and
retired December 81. 1913.
New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1922-08-20
Edward w. Cooper Buried

Funeral services Of the late Edward
W. Cooper. assistant District Attor-
ney, who died at his home, iIss Bed.
ford Avenue, Brooklyn, on "wednesday
were held at st. Marks Methodist
episcopal Church, Beverly Road and
oSean Avenue, Flatoush, yesterday
ss1sernoon. The Rev. DR.. Robert NJ.
MMoose' pastor OF the church, oficiated.
Many members Of the District Attor.
ney's staff, and many prominent law.
gers were present. Interment was In
Kensfco Cemetery. ""s ih
New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1922-08-20
Girl Hurt i'm Air Smash D;ea

: BlRATTLEBoRo, VT, Aug. 1e--
Evelyn Harris, who was severely i'm
1urea ana burned yesterday in the air.
pane crash in which James Trahan
Anu d;ad ms y lave-year- old son were killed,
u sr N 2 hospital here to-day. she
OF this city. treasurer Of the Hra atrls'
boro Savings Bank. - Ass's :
New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1922-08-20
Going On To-day
DAY

DAY
American Museum of Natural History. IA.
mission free.
Metropolitan Museum of Art. Admission
free.
Aquarium Admission free,
Brooklyn Museum. Admission free.
New York Historical Society Admission
free sSeson
Van cortlands Park Museum. Admission
free ss'on
Geological Park. Admission free
Hall of Fame at New York IJntvera,.,
University Heights Admission frsa S'ss'
Park, O'clock.
NIGHT
Department OF Parks concert Ya.r,ru..
Square Park. 8 o,cleok. : @s-A''is son
New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1922-08-20
MRS. ELvIRA ADAMS ATyyoon

Z, CONCORD, N. f., Aug. ls.-Mrs.
Elvira Adams Atwood. president and
contributing editor Of aThe Eastern
star Journal" died in hospital here
yesterday. She was grand chaplain Of
the Grand Chapter Of the Eastern Star
in Michigan.
New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1922-08-20
CHARLES p. UyccTNo

ST. LOUIS. No., Aug. 1e.--Charlex
F. Higgins, former sergeant-at-ar,ns 'i Il
the United States Senate, is dead ut
his home here after an illness of sew
eral weeks. He was sixty-four wears
old. se"ss
New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1922-08-20

Birth . Engagements, msrrs.ss.
Death and In Mesuerism va,iss.
n'ap Be fsisehonsd % The T, ,ss,sss
amp tina ue 10 midnight 81 &
sestion In TIE nest dan. ~ -. 9
Tefephene Bsetnsan 1908
Williams news., 1922-10-27
CHAPTER iiI-continued.

"And why have you been so long tn telling me?"
 When Daves chief asked questions fin this tone, answers always came quickly. They rolled so fast from the mouth that they blurred and ran to- gether. 'tWhy. Simon-you ain't been where I could see you. Anyway, there was nothin'. we, could have done.''
 There wasn't, eh? I don't suppose you ever thought that there's yet two months before we can cliEch this thing for good, and young Folger might-I say might-have kicking about somewhere in his Belongings the very document we've all of us been worrying about for twenty years" Simon cursed-a single. fiery oath. :-"But we are yelling before we're hurt It isn't worth a cussWOrd. Like as not. this Wegan will never take the trouble to hunt him up. And If he does-well, it's nothing to worry about. either. There is one back door that has been opened many times to let his people go through. and 1t may easily be opened again."
 Dave's eyes filled with admiration. Then he turned and gazed out through the window. Against the eastern sky. already wan and pale from the en- croaching dawn, the long ridge of a mountain stood in vivid and startling silhouette. The edge of 1t was curi- ousiy jagged with many little upright points.
 There was only one person who would have been greatly amazed by that outline of the ridge; and the years and distance had obscured her long ago. This was a teacher at an or phanage in distant city, who once had taken a crude drawing from the hands of child. Here was the original at last. It was the same ridge, covered with pines. that little Bruce had drawn
Williams news., 1922-10-27
CHAPTER V

The dawn revealed a narrow road along the bank of Deer creek-a brown little wanderer which, winding here and there, did not seem to know exactly where 1t wished to go. Bruce didn't know which direction to take, whether up or down the creek. He gave the problem a moments thought. Take the road up the Divide" Barney Wegan had said and at once Bruce knew that the course lay up the creek, rather than down. A divide means simply the high places between one watershed and another, and of course Trails End lay some where beyond the source of the stream.
 The creek itself was apparently a sub-tributary of the Rogue, the great river to the south.
 Bruce was in a mood to be delighted, these early morning hours. He was on the way to Linda a dream was about to come true. The whole adventure was of the most thrilling and Joy Ous anticipations. He did not feel the load of his heavy suitcase. It was nothing to his magnificent young strength.
 The sun rose higher, and be began to feel it's power. The sweat came out on his bronze face, but he never felt better in his life. There was but one great need, and that was break fast.
 A man of his physique feels hunger quickly. The sensation increased in intensity, and the suitcase grew cor respondingly heavy. And all at once he stopped short in the road. The impulse along his nerves to his leg muscles was checked, like an cleo tric current at the closing of switch, and an instinct of unknown origin struggled for expression within him.
 In an instant he had it. He didn't know whence it came. 1t was noth- ing he had read or that any one had told him. It seemed to be rather the result of some experience in his own immediate life, occurrence of so long ago that he had forgotten 1t. He suddenly knew where he could find his breakfast. He set his suitcase down, and with the confidence of man who hears the dinner call in his own home, he struck off into the thickets beside the creek bed. In- stinct-and really, after all, instinct is nothing but memory-led his steps true.
 He glanced here and there, not even wondering at the singular fact that he did not know exactly what manner of food he was seeking. In a mo ment he came to a growth of thorn covered bushes, a thicket that only
Williams news., 1922-10-27

the she-bear knew how to penetrate. But it was enough for Bruce just to stand at its edges. The bushes were bent down with a load of de- .licfous berries.
 He wasn't in the least surprised. He had known that he would find them. Always, at this season of the year, the woods were rich with them; one only had to slip quickly through the back door-while the mothers eye was else where-to find enough of them not only to pack the stomach full but to stain and discolo< most of the face But it seemed to him that he reached them easier than he expected. Either the bushes were not so tall he re membered them, or-since his first knowledge of them-hiS own stature had increased.
 When he had eaten the last berry he could possibly hold. he went to the creek to drink. He lay down be side a still pool, and the water was cold to his lips. Then he rose at the sound of an approaching motor car behind him.
 The drfver-evidently a cattleman- stopped his car and looked at Bruce with some curiosity. He marked the perfectly fitting suit of dark flannel. the trim, expensive shoes that were already dust-stained, the silken shirt on which juicy berry had been crushed. "HOwdy," the man said after the western fashion.
 How do you do," Bruce replied. How far to Martins store?"
 The man filled his pipe with great care before he answered. Jump in the car," he replied at last, and I'll show you. I'm going up that way my self.' ,
Williams news., 1922-10-27
CHAPTER W

The train came to a sliding halt at Deer Creek. paused an infinitesimal fraction of a second. and roared on in its ceaseless journey. That inflnitesi- nal fraction was long enough for Bruce. poised on the bottom step of a sleeping car. to swing down on to the gravel right-of-way. His bag, hurled by sleepy porter, followed him.
 Duncan's next impression was one of infinite solitude. He hadn't read any guidebooks about Deer Creek, and he had expected some sort of town. But here was one little wooden struc- ture with only three sides,-the open ing facing the track. It was evidently the waiting room used by the noun tain men as they waited for their local trains.
 There were no porters to carry his bag. There were no shouting officials His only companions were the stars and the moon and, farther up the slope, certain tall trees that tapered to incredible points almost in the re- zion where the stars began.
 The whole scene, for causes deeper than any words may ever seek and re veal, moved him past any experience in his life. It was wholly new.
 He turned about until the wind was in his face. It was full of fragrances,- strange, fndescribable smells that seemed TO call up a forgotten world. They carried a message to him, but as yet he hadn't made out It's meaning. He only knew 1t was something mys- fertous and profound: great truths that f1ickered, like dim lights, in his consciousness, but whose outline he could not quite discern.
 Perhaps there were sounds, but they Snly seemed part of the silence. The fainteSt rustic in the world reached him from the forests above of many little winds playing a running game between the trunks, and the stir of the Little People, moving In their mid night occupations. Each of these sounds had it's message for Bruce. They all seemed to be trying to tell him something, to make clear some great truth that was dawning in his consciousness.
 He was not in the least afraid. He felt at peace as never before He picked up his bag, and with stealing steps approached the long slope be- hind. The moon showed him fallen on the ground beside 1t, his back against It's bark. Then he waited for the dawn to come out
 The night hours passed. The sense of peace seemed to deepen on the man. He sat relaxed, his brown face grave, his eyes lifted. The stars began to dim and draw back farther into the recesses of the sky. The round out line of the moon seemed less pro uounced. And faint ribbon of light
Williams news., 1922-10-27

more, either. But let me make one thing plain No man, told to go back by me, ever has chance to be told again. This ain't your cities-up here There ain't any policemen on every corner. The woods are big, and all kinds of things can happen in them and be swallowed up-as I swallow these leaves in my hand"
 His great arm reached out with incredible power and seized a hand ful of leaves off a nearby shrub. It seemed to Bruce that they crushed like fruit and stained the dark skin.
 i've already decided. I'm going on"
 Once more they stood, eyes meeting eyes on the trail, and Simon's face was darkening with passion. Bruce knew that his hands were clenching and his own muscles punched and made ready to resist any kind of attack.
 But Simon didn't strike. He laughed ihstead-a simple deep note of utter and depthless scorn. Then he drew back and let Bruce pass on up the road.
Williams news., 1922-10-27

now had began to grow in the east
 It wideneo. The light grew. The night wind played one more little game between the tree trunks and slipped away to the Home of Winds that lies somewhere above the noun tains. The little night sounds were slowly stilled.
 Bruce closed his eyes, not knowing why. His blood was leapfng In his veins. An unfamiliar excitement, al- most an exultation, had come upon him. He lowered his head nearly to his hands that rested in his lap, then waited a full five minutes more.
 Then he opened his eyes. The light had grown around him. His hands were quite plain. Slowly. as a man raises his eyes to miracle, he lifted lis face.
 The forest was no longer obscured in darkness. The great trees had emerged, and only the dusk as of twilight was left between. He saw them plainly.-their symmetrical forms, their declining limbs, their tall tops piercing the sky He saw them
Williams news., 1922-10-27

Needle Trail. It leads from behind the cabin"
 He tried to emerge from the dream like mists that had enveloped him. How far is it?'' he asked her steadily.
 ITO the end of Pine-Needle Trail, i" she rocked again. clutched for one Of his brown hands, and pressed it be- tween hers.
 Then she raised it to her dry lips. Bruce could not keep her from it And after an instant more he did not at. tempt to draw it from her embrace. In the darkness of that mountain cabin, in the shadow of the eternal pines, he knew that some great drama of human life and love and hatred was behind the action and he knew with know1- edge unimpeachable that 1t would be only insolence for him to try further to resist 1t. Its meaning went too deep for him to see; but 1t filled him with great and wondering awe.
 Then he turned away, up the Pine needle Trail. Clear until the deeper forest closed around him her voice still followed nina strange crcakfng in the afternoon silence. At last" he heard her crying. At last, at last"
Williams news., 1922-10-27
InfaIIibIe Weather Sian,

(To BE coNTINUED.)
Williams news., 1922-10-27

within him. The great calm that is.
 after all, the all-pervading quality of
 the big pines came over him. Bruce
 was rather tremulous and exultant as he crept softly up the trail. It was the last lap of his Journey.
 At the end of the trail he would find
 Lindai And 1t seemed quite fitting
 that she would be waiting there,
 where the trail began, in the widest
 heart of the pine woods. He was
 quite himself once more-carefree delighting in all the little manifesto tfons of the wild life that began to stir about him.
 His delight grew upon him. It was dream coming true. Always, 1t seemed to him, he had carried in his mind a picture of this very land. a sort of dream place that was real ity at last. He had known just how 1t would be. He had always known how the pine shadows would fall across the carpet of needles. The trees themselves were the same grave companions that he had expected, but his delight was all the more because of his expectations.
 As the trail climbed higher the sense of wilderness became more pronounced. Even the trees seemed larger and more majestic, and the glfmpses of the wild people were more frequent. The birds stopped their rattle-brained conversation and stared at him with frank curiosity. The grouse let him get closer before they took to cover.
 The hours passed. The trail grew dinner. Now it was just a brown serpent in the pine needles, coiling this way and that-but he loved every foot of it. It dipped down to a little stream, of which the blasting sun of summer had made only a succession of shallow pools. Yet the water was cold to his lips. And he knew that little brook trout-waiting until the fall rains should make a torrent of their tiny stream and thus deliver them-were gazing at him while he drank.
 By a queer pounding of his blood Bruce knew that he was in the high attitudes. He had already come six miles from the cabin. The hour was about siX-thirty; in two hours more It would be too dark to make his way at all
Williams news., 1922-10-27
CHAPTER VI

Martins was a typical little noun 1 tain store, containing small sample l of almost everything under the sun.
 and built at the forks in the road. 1 Bruce entered slowly, and the little | group of loungers gazed at him with | frank curiosity.
 Only one of them was of type sufficiently distinguished so that Bruce's own curiosity was aroused. This was a huge, dark man who stood alone almost at the rear of the build ing-a veritab1e giant with savage, bloodhound lips and deep-sunken eyes. There was a quality in his posture that attracted Bruces attention at once. No one could look at him and doubt that he was a power in these mountain realms. ~t
 He was dressed much aS the other mountain men who had assembled in the store He wore a flannel shirt over his gorilla chest, and corduroy trou- sers stuffed into high. many scanned riding boots.
 The dark eyes were full upon Bruce's face. He felt them-just as if they had the power of actual physic- al impact-the instant that he was inside the door. Nor was it the ordinary look of careless speculation or friendly interest. It was such that no man, to whom self-respect is dear, could possibly disregard. It spoke clearly as words.
 Bruce flushed, and his blood made a curious little leap. He slowly turned. His gaze moved until it rested full upon the mans eyes. It took all of Bruce's strength to hold that gaze. The moment was charged with q myS- terfouS suspense.
 The strangers face changed too. He did not flush, however. His lips curled ever so slightly, revealing an instant's glimpse of strong, rather well-kept teeth. His eyes were narrowing too; and they seemed to come to life with singular sparkles and glowings be- between the lids.
 "WelI?' he suddenly demanded. Every man in the room-except one started. The one exception was Bruce himself. He was holding hard on his nerve control, and he only con- tinued to stare coldly.
 Are you the merchant?" Bruce asked.
 'No, I ain't," the other replied. You usually look for the merchant behind the counter"
 There was no smile on the faces of the waiting mountain men, usually to be expected when one of their num- Der achieves repartee on tenderfoot. Nevertheless, the tension was broken. Bruce turned to the merchant.
 'I would like to have you tell me-" he said quite clearly, ''the way to Mrs. Ross cabin"
 The merchant seemed to wait a long ! time before replying. His eyes stole | to the giants face, found the lips curled in smile; then he flushed. l "Take the left-hand road" he said | with a trace of defiance in his tone. "It soon becomes a trail, but keep | right on going up it. At the fork in the trail you'll find her cabin"
 ''How far is it, please?"
 1.-TWO hours walk; you can make it ensy by four o'clock"
 Thank you" His eyes glanced over the stock of goods and he selected a few edibles to give him strength for the walk. 'I'll leave my suitcase here if may.' he said, land will call for it later." He turned to go.
 "Wait just minute" voice spoke behind him. It was a commanding tone-implyine the expectations of obedience. Bruce half turned "Simon wants to talk to you" <As merchant explained.
Williams news., 1922-10-27
CHAPTER VIII

In almost moment, Duncan was out of the thickets and into the big timber. As far as he could see there was nothing but the great pines climb ing up the long slope of the ridge. They stood straight and aloof. and they were very old.
 He fell into their spirit at once The misunderstood emotions that had flooded him in the cabin below died