McCormick messenger. (McCormick, S.C.) 1902-current, September 01, 1932, Image 3

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I September 1, 1932 McCORMICK MESSENGER, McCORMICK, SOUTH CAROLINA ^ PAGE NUMBER TB }\iA © uabgourt 68ACt £.0> FELIX PIESENBER6 V V ’V V EIGHTH INSTALLMENT SYNOPSIS: Johnny Hreen, 16 years old, who had spent all of his life aboard a Hudson river tugboat plying near New York, is tossed in to the river in a terrific collision which sinks the tug, drowns his mother and the man he called fa ther. Ignorant, unschooled, and fear driven, he drags himself ash ore, hides in the friendly darkness of a htfge covered truck—only to be kicked out at dawn—and into the midst of a tough gang of boys who beat and chase him. He escapes into a basement doorway where he j hides. The next day he is rescued and taken into the home of a Jew ish family living in the rear of their second-hand clothing store. He works in the sweatshop store—and is openly courted by Becka—the young daughter .. . The scene shifts to the home of the wealthy Van Horns—on 5th Avenue, where lives the bachelor—Gilbert Van Horn— in whose life there is a hidden chapter . That chapter was an af fair with his mother’s maid, who left the house when he was accused. The lives of Johnny Breen and Gil bert Van Horn first cross when Van Horn sees Breen win his first im portant ring battle. Pug Malone, fight trainer, rescues young Breen from a crooked manager, takes him in hand, finds Breen cannot read and starts him t6 night school, and the world commences to open for Johnny Breen . - . Malone, an old- timer, is backed in a health-farm venture—taking Breen with him. There they meet and come to know Gilbert Van Horn. NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY “I’m getting ready to go back to the city. I don’t know, it seems to me as if my life was to be there, doing something for the city, not just helping Pug pound money out of fat slobs who come up here.” John and Van Horn were then resting on a fence rail, finder ihe shade of an oak, looking across the valley that separated them by a mile or.more from Greenbough. They talked idly. Van Horn pull ed out a brunt briar and filled it. He drew a'few puffs of smoke. “You’ve studied a lot.” The oldei^man had a very wholesome regard for John’s extraordinary researches. “Well, yes. I have, Gil. But Pug tells me I’m off the road. He’s right. But I want your slant on this. I’m going in for engineer ing. Mr. Rantoul has sort of set i my mind that way, not by saying anything to me direct, but by the way he talks when he’s up here. I never saw a more certain man in my life. He’s a big man, Gil, as big as his bridges, and now he’s go ing to swing another one over the river.” “A civil engineer?” Van Horn looked sidewise at John. “It’s a The boy started to dogtrot ahead of him, but he did not follow as was their custom at the end of a hike. “Hey, Jack.” Pug pounded at John’s door a few days later. “Charlie’s brought up a letter from Van Horn. A special on it, for you.” Pug burst into John’s room. “Well?” Pug was expectant, as full of curiosity as Eve. “Read it, Pug.” “What tha—say, John, I don’t know. What’s it about?” “Here, let me read it. ‘Dear John.’ It’s about a talk we had the day be fore he left. ‘Dear John, I have been thinking about what you said. I won a lot on you in those scraps, and have been trying to figure a way in which I could use the money. If you will enter Columbia this fall, I’ll see you through en gineering. You can pass the en trance, perhaps with a few condit ions. I’m placing a credit in Pug’s name for five thousand, to pay the way. Don’t hesitate to take this. You really earned every cent of it. Merely a little speculation of mine. “ ‘I’m sailing on the St. Louis to morrow. Will be at sea when you get the letter. Going abroad for a few months with my niece Jose phine.’ ” Josephine looked at her white glove, soiled by the fingers of John Breen. They were silent on the ride home; Gilbert Van Horn looked out of the window of the car. Josephine still felt the tingling grip of the young man in rags. His smile, his tousled yellow hair and white teeth, and his confusion, and his superb arms and body, seemed to flit across her memory, a vivid picture. He was not at all like the John Breen she had expected to see. That night Gilbert Van Horn sat in the library until long after mid night. Josephine had played for him that evening, she too was in a reflective mood, a romantic girl, a young woman of eighteen. He smoked and dreamed and planned. Gilbert Van Horn was determined upon a course of action in which every atom of cleverness he possess ed would be required. At last he had achieved an absorbing occupa tion. Gilbert Van Horn, wiser than most men in some matters, left ! John very much to himself, except at holiday periods when the two friends met at Greenbough. As for his ward, he arranged things so she saw but little of John Breen. jThe boy was in training, so Van J\^ m the litter, “what are you going to do?” For a while the two friends sat in silence. John had tossed his eye shade aside and searched for a pipe. He had no particular answer for the question. He was going to get through, he was getting through to, well, to do something, but just what he did not exactly know. “Well, Breen, if the things you are doing are a fair example of the work of our schools of technology, our highest schools of industrial training, driving you at constant overload, I don’t wonder at some of the things we see about us. You don’t mind me saying this, do you?” “No.” John thought a moment. He had an intense admiration for a great many of his teachers, earnest hard-working men, just, and often woefully underpaid. “You said something about the things we see. What, for instance?” “Well, if you wish, failure is what we see—the costliest failure in the world. We see prime youth dumped into a machine and sweat ed and ground and pounded until every original impulse and idea is packed down under a concentrated layer of stupidity. I’ve made a study of education and have prac ticed it on others with some re sults, but what I see here is a farce. The brain i§ intended for use, not for the stowage of freight. The structure of the mind needs ! development through action, in ! thought and reason. Why, dam mit, man, they seem to be stuffing you with the accumulated facts of the ages, regardless of how, or why, they were discovered.” Harboard paused, filled and relit his pip- while John sat in silence. “The worst of the whole thing is the awful hopelessness after you are through here. You are sweat ed, you are driven and you survive. But what do you survive for? Well, in the course of time your strained technical brain has to do with the work of men. (CONTINUED NEXT WEEK) txx <3* Mi II mm John suddenly realized that his attire was not only scanty, but scandalous. “John this is my ward Josephine,” said Van Horn. Pug sat on the cot, looked around | Horn argued, and to break training the room, the rickety book shelves, was nothing short of bad sportman- the familiar figure of his assistant, ship. Long trips, visits to Newport, the social activities of a select few in the great city—these, occupied Josephine, and at times she pleased herself by a long look at the full length photograph of Fighting Breen, in ring togs, taken just be fore his battle with the Quaker. NEW “Great goodness John, I knew them books would take you, some day.” “Never, Pug, never.” Tears stood in the boy’s eyes. He rose, put his stiff profession; if you go through arm over shoulders of the the schools.” traiiier; the gray head was down. “I guess it’s part of that fight, p ug at the rag carpet, his in the city.” j 0 wn eyes moist. John bent down This stood on the dresser in Van “You’ve been thinking about this ant j ^lie gray hairs of Mai- Horn’s room. But the John Breen a long time?” It was a question. one Th a t tough citizen rose sud- of the cold eyes, looking straight 1 “Off and on for a year, I guess, ^enly to make a swipe at him as he ahead, his pompadour as stiff as a I’ve been worrying, Gil. I m not ran ou ^. an( j ^ own the corridor to shoe brush, was of the past, satisfied. I’d hate to say it, es- growers. “Breen, you’re looking stale.” pecially to Pug, after all he’s done several weeks following his Harboard of the graduate schools for v me ;” f lftt ahout thR adm“to the sch o roT engfn dropped into the room of the stu- “You ve told me a lot about-the after hig bQut ^ the en _ dent It was close to midni g ht and tm uL ^ i trance examiners, John Breen mov- John bent over his work table, his ed in a strange, imponderable | tired eyes scanning a maze of for- wor i d mulae in theoretical mechanics. Then came the great day of the “ What are you dlgglng at? ” “Usual stuff.” John took off his East Side. It’s the river I’d like to hear about.” Van Horn spoke, haltingly. “Well, Gil, there’s not much to 4.«n mothpr was evervthine on fla S rush between the freshmen .. iver Now that I know more, and sophomores and Breen’s great e y e shade, evidently with relief. He t realize she was not able to help stren S th and superb physique, had Plunged into the work of the ril she was beautiful.” John’s made him the hero of the school, schools with determined energy, ^es held a far-away look. “Her John caught a glimpse of Gilbert Feeling himself grow stale, he push- Cy me was Harriet Harriet Jones of Van Horn waving to him. He stood ed onward with the utmost vigor, hXSw Tunow now fr^m beside the goiden statue. ••Boys, actually working himself to des- what I can recall, from things I >"e down.” John kicked free and tr “'‘‘°b; „ heard Breen was not my father. ran across to Van Horn. A great I d like to tell you something. Tohn spoke i,!owly. He relit his pipe, man y people stood about. John Harboard drew a battered briar J d looked off over the dark a ning suddenly realized he was not on the from his pocket and tamped down vaUev it was late afternoon ^ and gym floor at Greenbough, that his a half-smoked charge of tobacco. •*’ attire was not only scanty, but He lit this and puffed contentedly. scandalous; he was practically in “Four years—” Harboard rolled the cloudy. Gilbert Van Horn looked off too, He dared not look at ra g s - ° ne shoe had disappeared in words over his tongue—“leading to than the battle; he had not noticed it knew more far away. John. Gilbert John Breen. “My mother was a good woman, Qil. I know that.” “Of course she was, and your father, John, he might be found,” the older man still looked away, his voice was very low. •>’ until his feet touched the stone steps. “Josephine, this is John Breen. John, my ward, Josephine.” “The degree of civil engineer,” John sensed a question and sup plied an answer. “Leading to a complete ossifica- John stood speechless. He held tion of the mind,” Harboard con- the hand extended to him. Blue tinued, ignoring John’s words. “I’ve ‘If I found him, Gil- ‘Yes, John ,” the words were s it ua tion as she felt the tense grip of teaching. eyes, laughing eyes, smiled at his watched you for some time, Breen, predicament. Miss Lambert was especially this last year. I’m study- completely aware of the striking ing, or am trying to study the art I came here from a expectant. The boy paused intense. h ero 0 f a college moment, small southern college, you and «I’d kill him!” John Breen rose Then freshmen rushed up to John ninety-nine per cent of those here abruptly, his fists clenched, his and hoisted him clear of his em- would not know the place if I face flaming. barrassment. He turned and wav- mentioned it; one horse all the way Then the two men stepped off, at ed at Josephine and Van Home, through, and poor. Poor, my boy, brisk pace down the hill toward They waved at him in return. The in money.” He smoked thoughtful- JUeenboUgh Farm. Van Hon* walk- crowd was scattering as GUbert ly for a few minutes. “What’s back 1 a pace or so behind John; tears Van Horn and his ward walked of all this junk,” he nodded at the 6 ere in his eyes, he could not speak, down the broad steps to the curb, few books, sweeping his pipe over Secretaries of 4-H clubs in Okla- hofna are provided with one of the most complete registers and guides sent out by the extension office of any state. This is one of the rea sons for the high records which the 4-H club members of that state have been making, according to State Leader B. A. Pratt of Still water. At the annual 4-H ach ievement program at Oklahoma City when all the national champ ions furnished by the state were rounded up they numbered 25. The secretary’s register numbers 92 pages and contains a constitu tion for a local club, a ritual, methods of carrying on projects, the value of various projects, how to keep minutes and make the monthly and more extended re ports, blanks for information and so on. Every help imaginable is included, making it simple for the secretary to keep complete records and make the reports, all of which are necessary if a club is to ac complish things. Farm boys and girls and their parents all over the country should be inspired by the records which have been made by 4-H club mem bers in the state of Arkansas. You know, this state has not always had the name of being one of the pro gressive units of the nation. Be that as it may, the state is one of the leaders today in the work of its boys and girls in 4-H projects. State club agent W. I. Jernigan tells us that there is the biggest call for club work this year of any in the many he has had charge of it. Most everywhere he goes the members are raising money in one way or another so that they can carry on their club program. One of their ambitions was to have enough money to attend the state camp this month. It now seems close to 2300 will register. And in these times! Eight counties were unable to carry on under club agents, but two have been added, and total en rollment in the counties remAining is ahead of last year. The state has been hard hit by disasters of one kind or another so this is a very good showing. txi A British official of East Africa says that African medicine men linked the mosquito with malaria when European scientists still thought the disease due to inhal ing gases from swampy lands. [Ready for Great Speedboat at Detroit 3 x 4% Kaye Don, famed Pnglish speedman. is back in the U S. and tuning up x new “Miss England” boat for the great Harmsworth Trophy race at Detroit, September 3. Photos show Gar Wood, left, champion American defender as host to Kaye Don aboard Miss America X. Inserts, Demon stration run of Gar Wood’s boat—and closc-up of Don the challenger /TV ty Rpv. Cliarles E. Dunn, ^ \ J w / i Rer Chat. E. Dana EVILS OF INTEMPERANCE Lesson for September 4 Isaiah 5:11-16, 22, 23 Golden Text: Leviticus 10:9 Isaiah’s sharp denunciation of drunkenness, hurled like a thund er-bolt long ago is thoroughly timely. The liquor problem has never been solved. Intemperance is still a serious challenge to the stab ility of society, auad its peril' is peculiarly intense in our machine age. v Unfortunately the clearly established facts concerning the menace of alcohol are obscured by the fierce controversy now raging over the merits and demerits of prohibition. Both sidfes are warring camps* and their psychology therefore tends to be that of military factions'- angrily circulating atrocity stories about one another. What is needed is more light and less heat. The failures and successes of prohibition must be studied dispassionately. Above all, the place of alcohol in our modern, complex civilization must be sci entifically approached. , < Now we may cherish reasonable doubts as to the wisdom of the eighteenth amendment. But certain it is that the arguments against the liquor traffic are as strong now as ever. Rigid tests have proven that alcohol is a food only in a very limit— ed sense, that it is not a stimulant, but a narcotic such as ether and chloroform, and that it is a habit / forming drug, a poison that lowers resistance to infection and physical injury, and may result in acute and chronic disease. Dr. Haven Emerson, of Columbia University sums up the case against it when he says. “Alcohol as commonly used by modern man here ararf abroad deteriorates the cells of the body; de grades the man; degenerates the race. To be sure, there are eminent authorities who hold that the modr- erate drinking of alcoholic beverages is harmless. v Yet the Life Ex tension Institute’s handbook, “How to Live,”' declares that “the judg ment of the majority of scientific men is against even the moderate use of alcohol.” The liquor issue is now entering a new phase. We have over- stressed the power of the law. While still employing the strong arm of legal coercion, our main reliance henceforth must be upon educationt and public opinion. ' „ , ' , . THE FAMILY I .DOCTOR! JOHN JOSEPH GAINES, M D. AFTER OPERATION An operation for dises -v. v- Removal of tumor? Of the ap pendix? Or, for hernia? Ii 1 ’ have had any of these operations, yours is a “surgical abdomen,” o*. na^ oeen. And, the nerves within that wonderful structure may not function for a good while as they did before you had the disease requiring the surgery. ’I often tell my patients that have had operations: “Let a mechanic stoop down before your piano and saw a hole in its “abdomen,” let him go inside the instrument and remove part of the wires, and twist the others here and there. Then let him fill the wound in the wood en wall and varnish it anew, so that all evidence of the job is hidden. Would you expect the piano to play, after the internal damage to its strings?” So it is with the surgical abdomen, whose nerves have been origin ally adjusted far more perfectly than any piano-strings. You may have had the best surgeon on earth, for a most malignant condition the operation may have been done in the highest skill of perfection,— yet the damaged nerves may not perform naturally for a long time, un til the parts have become adjusted to the new order of things. Give yourself a few months time to get over the effects of your, possibly, life saving operation. If you have had a capital operation and yet have a quarrelsome belly, for goodness sake let up on your carpet-tack diet of “roughage.” Eat soft, easily-assimilable, nourishing food—the kind that builds up wounded tissue and nerves. Let your bowel rest from the rough stuff; try smooth stuff. • .