Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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SYNOPSIS. . CHAPTER I.?Lonely and almost friendless, Tonnibel Devon, living on a canal boat, child of a brutal father and a worn- l out, discouraged mother, wanders into a Salvation army hall at Ithaca, N. Y. There she meets a young Salvation army captain, Philip MacCauley. CHAPTER IL?Uriah Devon, Tony's fa- j ther, returns to the boat from a pro- ; tracted "spree," and announces he has arranged for Tony to marry a worthless companion of his, Reginald Brown. Mrs. Devon objects, and Uriah beats her. She intimates there is a secret connected with TonnibeL CHAPTER III.?In clothes that Uriah I has brought Tony finds a baby's picture , with a notification of a reward for its return to a Doctor Pendlehaven. She goes to return the picture. CHAPTER IV.?With the Pendlehavens, a family of wealth, live Mrs. Curtis, a cousin, her son and daughter, Katherine j Curtis and Reginald Brown. Katherine is j deeply in love with Philip MacCauley. CHAPTER V. Doctor John Has a Visitor. After remaining hidden in the for- j est for some time. Tonnibel stole along toward Ithaca in the gathering gloom, her heart filled with hopd. To get some medicine for Edith, and to take back the picture to the father who had offered money for it, were the two things she wanted to do now. Her young mind was busy with plans frw nCsr- mAthor Tf ch a. nonld find snmp work to do, and Edith would go with her, she would get well again. That evening, just after dinner. Dr. John Pendlehaven was sitting in his office, his mind disturbed, his heart aching for the sick brother upstairs, and he remembered that the first three or four years after the disappearance of Paul's daughter had been spent in a frantic search. All those working on the case had finally decided that Edith Mindil, a young nurse who had cared for the child most of the time since her mother had died and was devoted to her. had left home with the baby. He sat up suddenly, for distinctly 4 there came to him from the wide front porch the patter of feet like the soft footpads of some stealthy night-animal. Rz- turned his eyes on the open door that led to the porch?and then lie rose. There before him otood a ffivl. a silent girl looking at him beseechingly?a curious demanding expression in her -eyes, and she was barefooted, too. He didn't speak, nor did he move forward. She wa.s not a patient, that he knew, for only the rich came to him for treatment Suddenly she smiled and took two steps toward him. "Good evening," he managed to say. "Paul Pendlehaven?" came in a There Before Him Stood a Glrf?a Silent Girl. * breath, and Doctor John shook his head. "Oh! I hoped you were!" was the swift reply. "I want to see the doctor." The voice was filled with touching pathos, and the young face had grown suddenly grave. "I'm one Doctor Pendlehaven," tie said. "Won't you sit down?" Tonnibei shook her head. She couldn't sit down in all this royal splendor, she who had been used to | canal boats and rough benches to sit | on. "I'm kinrta mussed up," she said in i excuse. "I've come to make a dicker with?with Dr. Paul Pendlehaven." "Ten me what you want of my i brother?" he said gently. "Do you wa4nt him to help you?" "Yep, a hull lot," she responded, * a ! great lot. My mother's awful sick, j But I can't tell how she got that way, so don't ask me. But?but I thought mebbe if I brought Doctor Paul's baby j back?" She paused, drew out of her i blouse the picture and handed it out, ' "I thought if I didn't take any money j for itv^e'd hots* me, and mebbe.wouldn't ' F 'Qte | Shadow j t of the helferirvd ,Pii\es J by GRACE MILLER WHITE C0pyp/67r & &X+ ATA'.Ar-HZWH/fr tho Storm Coutvtvia I make me tell where I got it." John Pendlehaven made no move to touch the little card she was holding out to him, and Tonnibel came nearer. Her fingers let go their hold on the picture, and it fell to the floor. And there before the startled man'i eyes, she dropped down and began to sob, long bitter sobs such as John Pendlehaven had never heard from any of his own women kind. "I want some one to help my mummy so bad," came to him from among the curls. Then he shook himself, deep sympathy striking at him. "Listen to me, my dear; you've done my brother the greatest favor in the world by bringing back this picture." He stooped and picked it up. "He loved it dearly; no money could have bought it" Tonnibel's eyes, filled with tears, gazed up at him, and the red lips trembled. "I don't want money," she faltered. "But my poor little mummy # *ick. So I said to myself if the picture was worth cash, then mebbe I could get some medicine as a change off." "We'll go to" her instantly," said Pendlehaven. "Wait until I get my hat and coat, and I'll tell my brother you brought this to him." In a few minutes he was back, finding her standing where he had left her. Without a word they walked out into the night. As they passed the Salvation army mmrt-orc tho .onrl turned her head and ! looked at it But she made no remark, and so rapid did she walk that Pendlehaven found himself taking long strides to keep up with her. To say he was surprised when they turned from the boulevard road to a path leading to the west shore of the lake would be putting it lightly. But he didn't ask where they were going; somehow It made no difference to him. His strong, warm hand held the small brown one, and something in the touch of the girl's fingers made him thrill with pleasure. He found himself vowing that anything this strange child should ask of him, he'd do. no matter what it might be. They passed over a culvert through which water, in tumbling roars, took its way d<Wn the hill. Just on 'the north side the girl stopped. "Here we are to the ragged rocks," she said. "There's the boat where my mummy is. See that little light? Stand here a minute till I come back and get you." It had suddenly occurred to Tonnibel that perhaps her father might have ventured home. If so, then she must prepare him for the doctor's coming. She went immediate-v to her mother and looked down upon her. The swollen lids were still closed and the wan white face brought a rush of tears to the girl's eyes. "I've brung some one to help you, darlin'," she whispered, but the woman made no move, if by chance she heard. Olaic-.ering up the sreps, Tonnibel vras back at the doctor's side before j he scarcely realized it. "Mummy's alone," she said. "Come on." Pendlehaven stooped over Edith Devon, gently taking her wrist in his fingers. For some time he sat beside her, then mixing a draxight, succeeded in pouring it down her throat. The weary lids didn't lift, but one thin arm came rigidly upward, then fell back limply. "Some one struck her, eh?" asked the doctor. "Yep," replied the girl, and that was all. Pendlehaven didn't ask anything more. In accepting the picture he had tacitly promised not to question her. 1 "** * * ~ ? *? v* /\ttt a Waal aid it matter 10 mm uu? woman had come into her present condition? He would do his utmost, his very best for the sake of the trembling child who had brought back the baby's picture which might bring a new desire to live in his nrother, Paul. "Come outside," he said at length, rising. "I want to talk to you. She'll sleep a long time, perhaps until morning." "She'll get well, huh?" demanded Tonnibel, in a whisker. "Surely," he responded. "Of course." The thought of her father coming home drunk flashed across the girl's mind. "I don't wavt you to stay if she's all right," she said with a back- ! ward bend of her head. "You said ' she'd get well, didn't you?" At the doctor's affirmative nod she went on: "Then I'll take you back up the hill, so you'll be safe." "No," said Pendlehaven, firmly. ; "No, I won't let you. I can find my 1 way all right, but I can't leave you like this." Tonnibel extended her hand. *T said I was going with you," she answered crisply. "Come on, it'll be all hours before you get home now. I ain't say- j in' I would loye to have you in the ! Dirty ^Mary with mummy and me, but you might get killed if you stay." "And what about you?" demanded Pendlehaven. "Oh. I'm used to It" she responded "Somebody might give me a swat or two on ray bean, but that won't count for nothin'!" When they reached the boulevard, he dropped her hand. "Now go back," he said gently, "I can find my way. Will you come toj morrow at two, and let me know how j she is? Or shall I come down?" | "I'll hike to you," answered Tonni' bel. "If you're sure now you won't get lost, I'll run back to mummy. But?" "T shnTT fet hftmp nerfectlv safe, child," came in quick interruption, and "Good-night. Thank you for bringing me the picture and allowing me to come to your mother." CHAPTER VI. "Tony" Swears an Oath. When Tonnibel bent over the bunk, she saw her mother's eyes were open. She smiled sadly down upon her, sat on a stool and took one of the woman's thin hands in hers. "Where's your daddy?" murmured | Mrs. Devon. "He's gone, mummy dear," breathed Tony. "I guess he thought some one was after him. You're feelin' a lot better, huh, honey?" "Yep, but I'm thirsty, awful thirsty, baby dear." Tonnibel gave her a drink, and reseated herself. , "You're goin' to get well," she ejaculated. "I brought a awful nice doctor here when you were so sick. He's just gone, and he left you them pills and that medicine In the glass." The woman stared at the speaker as if she hadn't heard rightly. "A doctor?" she whined. "What doctor?" "Doctor Pendlehaven," replied Tonnibel. "He's a real nice man?John Pendlehaven." Edith struggled up on her elbow. "What'd you bring him here for?" she cried. "I hate the Pendlehavens. Uriah hates 'em?" "I know that, mummy^" Tony cut her off with, "but ycta was too sick to j tell me what to do, and daddy wasn't j here, so I just went and got-the doctor myself. . . . Here! You mustn't sit up." "I will! I will! Now tell me all he said from the beginning to end." In silence Tonnibel helped her moth- j er to a sitting position and wrapped j the blankets around her. Then she began to tell her what had happened. The only thing she omitted speaking of was the baby's picture. 1 "He were the only doctor I knew about," she offered finally, flushing, "and he's the beautifulest man I ever saw. Mebbe he'll come down tomorrow to see you." Edith dropped" back on the bed, shivering in desperation. "Get your clothes off, baby," she' whispered. "Crawl in beside me. You're all wet" '"Take your medicine first, then I will," said Tonnibel. "Here?" She! picked up the j?lass and then stood staring at the. place she'd taken it j from. "Why, the doctor must have ! ' this money," she exclaimed, tak-: ing up a roll of bills. "Look, EdieJ look!" "Get off your clothes," repeated the j woman, impassively. "Come on to bed. and go to sleep." In another moment the girl had stripped off her wet clothes, had blown out the light and was in bed beside her mother. j When Edith was assured the girl j slept, she crawled out of the bed and; lighted the lamp. She tried to collect her thoughts, to lay a plan for the fu- j ture for herself and husband. John i Pendlehaven had been there! Pendle- \ haven, the one man in the world she ! dreaded che mention of I And Tony \ had said he would come back tomo* rowl I * She turned and looked at the sleeping Sfa^e, half-hidden in the blankets. She had stolen this child from hev father, and now she had to escape the consequences of her wicked deed. She | had to go away, and that quickly. If she had dared to face her husband's wrath, she would have, then and there, communicated with Paul Pendlehaven. She reached out and touched Tonnibel's face. "Baby, darlin', wake up," she said. "I want to ask you something!" Tony opened her slumber-laden eyes and smiled. "Don't go to sleep again," exclaimed Mrs. Devon, hoarsely. "Tell me this. Do you honest believe what you said about that thing on the card? About It bein' holy?" "Yep," asserted Tony, with drooping eyelids. "You don't wTant to hurt Uriah and me, do you, honey?" rnv ~ Viar> ftlrtwlv. and I -Lilt; giii &1IUUIV iiti uvuu ~ a doubtful shadow settling in her eyes, seemed to make her wider awake. "I wouldn't hurt you, darlin'," she replied at length, "but sometimes, when daddy's beatin' you, I feel like whack in' the life out of him. Why, today.?" Edith stopped her by a tug at her sleeve. "If you swore by that card you brought, I mean if you took an oath, would you keep it?" she asked hoarsely. "You bet I would." There was amazement, surprise and eagerness In the young voice. "Didn't you tell me the feller said Jesus was a holy bird?" Tony nodded. Mrs. Devon gripped her fingers about the girl's arm. "Mebbe he's in the Dirty Mary here, only you can't see him, baby dear?^' * ? ? ~ !? TH? womai?s voice was "slyly tone<l but she shivered in superstition. "He's right .here," affirmed the girl, thinking of a hoy's earnest uplifted face and vibrant assurances. "Then say after me what Tm ! thinkin' of."* said Edith. Tony lifted her eyes to her mother's, hut drew back when she discovered how terrible she looked, white like a dead person. "I swear by the livin' Jesus," began Edith, and then she paused. "Say It* she hissed. "I swear by the llvln' Jesus," Tony repeated fearfully. "I swear to my mummy never to say nothin' mean against Uriah Devon, my daddy," went on Mrs. Devon. Tony repeated this; too, almost frightened Into fits. She had never seen her mother look and act so mysteriously. "Now say this, keepln' In your mind you'll be blasted to hell If you break your word, 'I won't never tell that my father beat my poor mummy, or that he's a thief and a liar? '" A thick tearless sob burst from the woman's tips and brought an ejaculation from the girl. "I swear to It all, honey mummy," she cried. "You believe me, Edie. darlin', don't you?" "Yes, I believe you," replied Edith, dully. "Crawl into bed, and go to sleep, baby dear." Shiveringly Tony Devon got back under the blanket. Then for more than an hour there was silence on the canal boat, silence that was broken only by the night noises outside. Then, extremely weak, the woman prepared herself to go out. It took her a long time to write a note she had to leave for Tony, and when that was finished, she divided the money the doctor had left and stole softly from the boat. ******* It was in the full blaze of a morning sun that Tonnibel opened her eyes and looked around the cabin. The other bunk was empty, and her mother was not in the cabin. In her night clothes, Tonnibel went to the deck, shouting the name, "Edith," her strong young voice repeating itself back from the woods in echoes. Then she went downstairs again and began to dress hastily, and every moment her fear was growing. She spied the note Dinned to the lamp handle and stared at It mutely as if dreading to know its contents, but she unpinned it with finders tfiat seemed to be all thumbs. Her legs were shaking so she had to sit dowD to read it "Tony dear," It began. "I'm going to look up Uriah. I took nont r\f til o m/vnOT7 Wo mirrht n P*41 1 VA tliVUVj ?? V UfcV/U some. Yon caD go to work somewheros It I don't come back. Maybe some day you'll see me. Leave the boat where she Is so your daddy can find her. I love you, darling. Remember about your swearing not to tell on your Pop, and don't tell I'm gone to find him.' MUMMY." Tonnibel gave a gasping sob. They had all gone and left her stranded In a land of strangers. Because it was no longer her home, she began to love the silent old canal boat, and to wish with all her soul that Uriah and Edith would come walking down the cabin steps. For a long time she sat thinking, looking out over the water, sometimes with tears flooding her lids, sometimes dry-eyed with fright. After a while she got up, took Gussie to the lake, where, much to the little animal's disgust, she washed her with a scrubbing brush and soap. . Then she carefully washed herself, letting her feet and legs hang over the end of the dock until they, too, were as clean as her little friend. It was while she was sitting there with the pig* in her arms that a canoe slipped under the overhanging trees and came toward the canal boat swiftly. She watched It coming with no show of Interest Directly In front of her the paddle remained suspended, and the boat came to a stop. Tonnibel's heart thumped, then seemed to fall to the pit of her stomach. Here, right before her, was the Salvation man. "How do you do?" he said, smiling at her. "I see you're having a nice time." Tonnibel shook her head. "No, I ain't, and Gussle aint, either," she replied almost sullenly. By a skillful twist of the paddle, Philip MacCauley drew the canoe close to the dock. "Is this the boat you told me you lived on?" he asked, climbing up beside her and holding the canoe fast by a rope. _JTes. the Dirtv Mary," answered Tonnibel,' with " a little catch lif fer voice. "Now I live on her, I mean today." "What do you mean by *now you live on her?*" he asked. "Isn't this your home? Didn't you tell me that?" The girl's dark head drooped, and the shower of curls almost covered Gussle to her short hind legs. Tears dropped silently. Philip touched her gently. "Where's your mother?" he questioned. She lifted her head and looked at him through her tears. She wanted to confide in some one?yes, she did want to tell him, but the oath she'd taken on the gentle Christ flashed into her mind. "She ain't home just at present," she replied in a low voice. Oh ,how she wanted to ask him If he knew of any work she could do! As if he had read her thoughts, he asked abruptly, "Can I do anything for you? I brought you this." She made a slight "movement with her head but acecpted the card he extended. Then there drifted over the quiet summer day the tolling of the chimes from the university clock on the ? s.jopop aq; 10; pa;.n*;s aqs aaqx *BOBq;i pjbaio; ja;ba\. aq; no ?bmb paonap ;j sb ;jbjd aq; snrqojb^ poo;s aqs sa;nnini Aiaj b joj pub 'aonBD aq; o;nj dmnC raiq aas o; qSnoaa gnoi pasnBd aqs naqjQ 'cnjq paJBp aqs SnjajBAi aq; ub sba^ sjqx 4/do;s ;4aop 'panojB aao j?ob s4ajaq; j\ ;nq? *;BOjq; 2u;ng q;iAi qaqjauojc pi^s ,/aaioa obd no? 'da^,, paSjn ?oq aq; 44?AiojJorao; anion j nBD?, ,/anioa nol naqM. acaoq aq ;4a;qSini j? -hub aao japan aissn$ Snp;nd 'paaaAisaB aqs 44'oaonp j? '\\B ;B Uljq 0AB91 o; jaq ;aBAi ;4upip aq paB 'ijjS nnia -los aq; aj ;seja;ai paA\anaj aappns b ;iaj an 'aaBj siq o; ^njpas Sarnnnj pooiq aq; 'dniqj papuBtnap 44?naq^? ulll* I aqqapi amp. auios qjbSb no? aas nj aqqan iia;sjoi 'uoj;baibs ajora anios ara SajSapiq ioj. paSqqo qonj^,, '?uB3gaS -oiodB pjBs aqs ,/ayou o2 05 }o3 j? *2pOptO OAl} }B 0OB[d U0A Bqaipnaj ;b aq 0; paspnojd pBq aqg da }o3 aqs *j0)bay aq; raojj ;aej jaq 3ap\Bjp pas 'euo 5pru;s ;i *ra;sn 0; piBAuoj ;uaq aqg 'naiLioo jo sndnnp (To be continued next week.) Let Truth Be Known About the New Greek Struggle /(From The Atlantis, National Greek Newspaper, New York.) The Greeks are fighting in Asia Minor. After thirty months of a futile and useless armistice, Turkey which laid down her arms in utter defeat on that fatal day of October 30th, 1918, is today battling against Greece with arms and ammunition and money and no doubt, with the military advice of the selfsame powers that defeated her more than two years ago, and with the help of the most disgusting and most undignified propaganda, that ever was carried in favor of the unspeakable Turk. It is one of those tragedies of European politics, which to the average American are something of a mystery; to such an extent is the rascality of European diplomacy unfathomable. And yet what happens today in Asia > Minor is the. natural sequel of a policy common to most of the powers of Europe when deal ing with the Turk. Not all the butcheries of hundreds of thousands of innocent Christians, nor all the bloody record of Turkish history in Europe, have succeeded in the least in changing the attitude of the western powers toward these intruders who invaded the most beautiful lands of the Near East five hundred years ago, bringing tears and misery and servitude and death in their wake. The trouble with the Turk is that he occupied what the stragetists j love to call a "key position" in Europe. Established in Constantinople and just to the south of the erstwhile Russian Empire^ he not only was allowed to possess the seat of the ancient Byzantium, but [ he was strengthened there and fortified by the powers which dreaded him less than Russia. The Turkish problem was created because too many powers wanted to divide the Ottoman Empire, but always quarelled among themselves, so that it was found to be the interest of all to maintain the Statuquo, or to let things stay as they were. With the fall of Russia and the subsequent fall of Turkey it was thought that the Eastern problem would be settled in a way to satisfy the rightful aspirations of all those nationalities, which the Turks had ! oppressed for a period of five long centuries. A new Armenia and a new Mesopotamia and a new Palestine, would be the outcome of the partition of the Ottoman. Empire, while the Greek nation would reassert its claim on those lands that have been Greek from the dawn of history, and have maintained their traditional character and their undying allegiance to their Hellenic Motherland, from the time of their first colonization to the present day. In order to accomplish this, Turkey, following its defeat, was to be disarmed, shorn of all prestige, and placed under allied control. The allies were then to impose the dictates of justice and fair play to the vanquished, and the Near East would be ready to take its part in the I world, as reshaped by the Great War. For nearly two whole years, the | victorious allies kept the Turkish problem under discussion, and were; unable to reach an arrangement I which would be satisfactory to all. The same jealousies that had so much to do with the human catastrophe of the last five years, the same intrigues and mutual distrusts appeared in the councils of the allies when the Turkish problem came before them for settlement. The result is that not a single one of the nations freed from the I Turkish yoke, is today satisfied with the arrangement, with the possible exception of Arabia, and perhaps Palestine. Armenia is the greatest victim of these interallied jealousies; Syria is seething under the French, Mesopotamia is in a state of continuous revolt. The allied diplomats, entirely oblivious of the sacrifices made by millions of the. soldiers of'Europe and America, not only have turned 'their backs to the nations of the Xear East but they even went to the extent of again. befriending the: Turk, in an effort to bring matters! back where they were, before the1 war and their victory. The Treaty of Sevres was the outcome of this tendency on behalf of the allies toward Turkey. And the fact that this treaty was not ratified by the allies, and was even1 on the point of being radically I modified in favor of the Turk in J the recent London conference, is the j best proof of the desire of the allies to undo the greatest accomplishment of their victory, which was to do away with Turkish domination in Europe. Greece knows the working of the European diplomacy when dealing with Turkey. And because she had no faith in the promises of the allied diplomats, in the early days of the war, she avoided to enter the war prematurely, and destroy her forces which would be of vital importance in the final settlement of the Turkish problem. The Greek people for almost four years paid the penalty for disobeying the allied diplomats who wantof her to join the war at their bidding. It was thus, that Greece emerged from the wrar compartively safe, and with her forces almost intact, and ready to be used for her own interests alone. This fact permitted Greece to send an army to Smyrna and occupy the western portion of Asia Minor, pending the final solution of the Eastern Question by the allies. It was during this Greek occupation of Smyrna that the allies changed their minds about Turkey, and warned Venizelos, the Greek dictator not to ratify the Turkish treaty last September. And the continuation of the same policy mad? the allies reopen the Turkish ques- \ \ tion five weeks ago in London, wjth the object of practically scrapping ' a Treaty which although they have signed they never ratified. French policy, objecting to British preponderance in the Near East and considering Greece a satellite of Great Britain, took the initiative of safeguarding the Turkish Empire from the consequences of the Sevres treaty. And Italian policy, always jealous of a strong Hellenic State in the Eastern Mediterranean, quickly forgot the anti-French explosions of Fiume, to side with Paris in the Turkish business. With the two allies openly declaring their friendship for the Turk Great Britain recalled her three hundred thousand dead of Gallipoli and became neutral in the controversy. There is however a nation, which no matter how things may turn cannot remain neutral in the Eastern Question, under its present aspect; and that nation is Greece, which has staked its all in her effort to liberate all the Greeks and unite them under the same Blue and White Banner. And thus abandoned and betrayed by her so called "protectors" she took up the fight against the Turk single-handed. * , This is the war that is going on v" -V? in Asia Minor, in which the entire Hellenic nation without distinction of party fights for the liberation of Hellenism, and for expulsion of the Turk from Europe. . * The allies who fought the greatest of all wars for the rights of the small peoples, and for the maintainance of the principle of selfdetermination have denied the Greeks the right to elect their rulers; and thus the present Gr^ek regime is still unrecognized by the Great Powers, and also, curiously enough, by America, which ought to show a better attitude towards the votes of a sovereign people. Greece while .struggling in Asia ViATTOrtff hv .iVlillur, IS ii nanuiaiiji uv/jvuticu u; the allies, and .. even hampered in her movements against Turkey. Her official allies are also the unofficial allies of the Turks; allied flags cover the contraband ammunition .that goes to Mustafa Kemal from Italy and France, while Greek destroyers are forbidden to patrol the shores of the Black sea and the Aegean. Allied money supplied by the heavyly burdened French and Italian taxpayer go to the support of the butchers of Armenia; French cannon supplied originally to Baron Wrangel are being passed to the -, /> Turkish armies, while Soviet Russia . .> / > congratulates France in the person of her protege Kemal Pasha the leader of Angora. Italian steamers by the score are unloading their cargoes in the harbors of New Ephesus and Pontoheracleia and Adalia while French ammunition until recently used by French troops against 'the Turk in Cilicia, is donated to the ex-enemy to strengthen him against the Hellenic army. A lying and slandering propaganda is working overtime in Constantinople and on the European continents in order to undermine the morale of the Greek nation, and to break the back bone of the army, and Turkish imaginary successes are given the character of great triumphs against Hellas, once more fighting for the liberty of her sons, and for the preservation of our civilization in the Near East. - -? i--- ~ C TJTrtl . Sucn is tne caarauter ui. ilie nciIenic campaign in Asia Minor. It is the fight of a gallant people who continues the struggle against the obscene and barbarous Turk, not only for the liberation of those territories and populations that are essentially Greek, but for the breaking of that dark power, whose downfall will mean a new day in the lives of all the peoples of the Levant. It is this fight that Greece is carrying alone while her own allies assist the bloodstained Turk. And it is these same allies who are aften the money of the American taxpayer . in order to give more encouragement and more arms to the most barbarous, and most inhuman, and most unspeakable race that ever cursed with its presence, and re- . . mains to the present day, as the greatest living insult to decency and , civilization.?adv. NOTICE TO DEBTORS AND CREDITORS. All persons having claims against the estate of Mrs. Elise B. Walker, flro herebv notified to file Li L/V/L/M WV y Mr ? v v the same duly verified, with the undersigned Administrator of the said estate, and those indebted to said estate will please make payment likewise. , 5-5 G. FRANK BAMBERG, Admr. of the Estate of Mrs. Elise B. Walker, deceased. Bamberg, S. C., Apr. 8th, 1921. S. G. MAYFIELD ATTORNEY AT LAW Practice in all courts, State and Federal. Office Opposite Southern Depot. BAMBERG, S. C. - - ... ' Y i ' ' i*