Richmond Palladium (Daily), Volume 43, Number 226, 3 August 1918 — Page 16

PACE FOUR

RICHMOND PALLADIUM, AUQUST 3, 1918.

EXCHANGE COLUMN Open to All Beys and Girls. TheM Ada Cost You Nothing; Send In Your "Wants" to The Palladium Junior.

FOR SALE Boy's bicycle. Call Elmer Hurrel, 411 N. Eleventh street " FOR SALE OR TRADE Beagle Hound. Call 229 S. Seventh street FOR SALE Two Daisy air rifles, cheap if sold at one. Call 220 S. Second street - LOST A string of pearl beads on or near S. Third street. Finder please return to 28 S. Third street city. WANTED To buy about one dozen pigeons. Address Neola Ewing R. R. C. WANTED A bird cage. Call 2646. FOR SALE Canary birds. Phone 1007. FOR SALE Belgian Hares. Call 4669. LOST A black and white hound. Inquira Fosler'a Drug Store. WANTED Position by a girl aged twelve. Will take care of babies for the small sum of twenty-five cent a day. Phone 2828. j LOST Old fashioned gold pin with pear set June 24. Phone 1366. LOST A gold ring at Hibberd school, July 2. If found please return to Robert Jarvis, 426 South Sixth street. Reward. FOR SALE Rabbits at 2210 N. E street. WANTED Thirty-two boys from nine to twelve years old to organize a boys' soldier camp. See Leoline Klus, 915 North G street WANTED A bicycle.' See Nuncio Corsi, 615 North Twelfth street WANTED A book on aeroplanes. Call phone 1230. WANTED A small steel vise. See Frederick Weir, or call phone 1230. FOR SALE Boy's books, including Motor Boys, Rover Boys, Put nam Hall, Dick Prescott at Annapolls, Dave Darrim at Annapolis aeries, and 40 other books, costing form 50 cents to 1.50. The best of Juvenile literature for 15 cents each. Call at 114 Pearl Street RIDDLE8. "What kind of fencing is useless to keep stock from roaming? Fencing without toils. What song should bo the wheat farmer's favorite? "In the Sweet Bye and Bdes." ln this wheat by and by.) Why is a green persimmon artistic?' Because it draws well. What is the best thing for a run town farm? Wind it How are cold air and good debtors alike? Both descend into the pockets ad settle. Wby does a setting bantom ben remind one of George Washington? Because she is a little hatchet What is the difference between the stearily employed farm band and one without a job? Because one is a fireless hired nan, and the other is hirelesa fired 'nan. Wby may the years be said to be burst out? It has two embers, Nov-ember asd Dec-ember. Wby do potatoes grow better than any other vegetable? They have eyes to see what they aro doing. la a restaurant there were two fathers and two sons eating at 50 cents a head. What was the bill? $1.50. One man was the grandfather, oce the father and one a son. Juliet Smith. Greensfork, Ind. "O wad some power the gftie gie ns To see ourailves as others see us; It wad from mony a blunder free us And foolish notion."

SCENE 1UOM SILAS MANNER

Scene: In Silas Marner's cottage. Eppio is seated near Silas's knees and holding both his hands and looking up at him. A piia of money is beside a candle ou the table. Silas: (In a subdued tone.) At first I'd a sort o' feeling come across me now and then, as if you might be changed into gold agian; for sometimes, turn my head which way I would. I seemed to sec the gold and 1 thought I should be glad if I sould feel it and find it was come back. But that didn't last long. After a bit 1 Bhould have thought it was a curse come again, if it had drove you from me, for I'd got to feel the need o your looks and your voice and the touch o' your little fiingcrs. You didn't know what your old father Silas felt for you. Eppie: But I know now father, if it hadn't been for you they'd i have taken me to the work house, and there's have been nobody to love me. Silas:. Eh, my precious child, the blessing was mine. If you hadn't been sent to save me, I should ha' gone to the grave in my misery. The money was taken away from me in time; and you see it's been kept kept till it was wanted for you. It's wonderful our life is wonderful. (Silas looks at the money.) It takes no hold of me now, the money doesn't. I wonder if it ever could again; I doubt it might if I lost you Eppie. I might come to think I was forsaken again and lose the feeling that God was good to me. (Knock is heard at the door.) (Eppin flushes as she opens the door. Then she makes a curtsy and holds the door open. Enter Mr. and Mrs. Case.) Mrs. Cass: (Taking Eppie's hand and looking in her face, with ex pression of anxious interest ana aamiration. Nancy is pale and tremulous.) We're disturbing you very late, my dear. (Eppie places chairs for Mr. and Mrs. Cass, then goes and stands against Silas, opposite them.) Mr. Cass: (With firmness.) Well Marner, it's a great comfort to me to see you with your money again, that you've been deprived of so many years. It was one of family did you the wrong the more grief to me and I feel bound to make up to you for it in every way. Whatever I can do for you will be nothing but paying a debt, even if I looked to further than the robbery. But there are other things I'm beholden shall be beholden to you for, Marner. Silas: (With some constraint)

Sir. I've a deal to thank you for a' ready. Ar for the robbery, I count it no loss to me. And if I did, you couldn't help it; you aren't answerable for it. Mr. Cass: Tou may look r.t it in that way, Marner, but I never can, and I hope you'll let me act: according to my own feeling of what's just. I know you're easily contented; you've been a hardworking man all your life. Silas: (Meditatively.) Yea, sir, yes, I should ha' been bad off without my work; it was what I held by when everything else was gon,e from me. Mr. Cass: Ah, it was a good trade for you in this country, because there's been a great deal of linen weaving to be done. But you're getting rather past such close work, Marner, it's time you laid by and had some rest You look a good deal pulled down, though you're not an old man, are you? Silas: Fifty-five, as near as I can say, sir. Mr. Cass: Oh, why, you may live thirty years longer look at old Macey! And that money on the table, after all, is but little. It won't go far either way whether it's put out to interest or you were to live on it aa long as it would last; it wouldn't go far if you'd nobody to keep but yourself, and you've had two to keep a good many years now. Silas: (Unaffected by Mr. Cass's words.) Eh, Sir, I'm in no fear o' want We shall do very well Eppie and me'll do well enough. There's few working folks have got so much laid by as that I don't know what it is to gentlefolks, but I look upon it as a deal, almost too much. And, as for us, it's little we want Eppie: (Looking embarrassed.) Only the garden, father (blushing up to her ears). J

Nancy: You love a garden, do you, my dear- We should agree in that; I give a deal of time to the garden. Mr. Cass: (Surprised.) Ah, there's plenty of gardening at the Red House. You've done a good part by Eppie, Marner, for sixteen years. It 'ud be a great pleasure to you to see her well provided for wouldn't it? She looks blooming and healthy, but not fit for any hardships; she doesn't look like a strapping girl come of working parents. You'd like to sea her taken care of by those who can leave her well off and make a lady of her; she's more fit for it than for a rough life, such as she might come to have in a few years' time. (Silas Marner flushes.) Silas: I don't take your moaning, sir. Mr. Cass: (Determined to come to his point) Well my meaning is this, Marner. Mrs. Cass and I, you know, have no children, no- j body to be the better for our good home and everything else we have j more than enough for ourselves. And we should like to have somebody in the place of a daughter to us we should like to have Eppie, and treat her in every way as our own child. It'ud be a great comfort to you in your old age, I hope, i to see her fortune made in that i way, after you've been at the trouble of bringing her up so well. And it's right you should havo every reward for that; and Eppie, I'm sure, will always love you and be grateful to you; she'd come and see you very often, and we. should all be on the lookout to de everything we could towards making you comfortable. Eppie passes her hand behind Silas's head and let her hand rest against it caressingly. ' Silas: Eppie, my child, speak. 1 won't stand in your way. Thank Mr. and Mrs. Cass. Eppie: (Takes her hand' from Silas's head and steps forward a step. Her cheeks blush as she drops a low curtsy first to Mrs. Cass, then to Mr. Cass.) Thank you, ma'am thank you, sir. But I can't leave my father, nor own anybody nearer than him. And I don't want to be a lady thank you all the same (drops another curtsy). I couldn't give up the folks I've been

used too. Eppie's lips begin to tremble. She goes to her father's chair and holds him around the neck. Silas 3obs as he puts his hands out to jrasp Eppie s. Nancy's eyes fill with tears.) Mr. Cass: (A little angrily.) But I've a claim on you, Eppie, the strongest of all claims. It's my luty, Marner, to own Eppie as my shild and provide for her. She's my own child, her mother was my wife. I've a natural claim on her that must stand before every other. (Eppie gives a violent start and turns pale.) Silas: (With accent of bitterness.) Then, sir, then, sir, why didn't you say so sixteen years ago, and claim her before I'd come to love her," i'stead of coming to take her away from me now, when you might as well take the heart out of my body? God gave her to me because you turned your back upon her, and He looks upon her as mine. You've no right to her! When a man turns a blessing from his door it falls to them as tafce it In. Mr. Cass: I know that, Marner. I was wrong. I've repented of my conduct in that manner. Silas: (With gathering excitement) I'm glad to hear that, sir, but repentence doesn't alter what's been going on for sixteen years. Your coming now and saying I'm her father doesn't alter the feelings inside us. It's me she's been calling her father ever since she could say the word. Mr. Cass: (Awed by Silas's direct truth speaking.) It isn't as if she was to be taken quite away from you, so that you'd never see her again. She'll be very near you and come to see you very often. Shell feel just the same toward you. Silas: (More biiierly than ever.) Just the same? How'U she feel just the same for me aa she does now, when we eat o' the same bit, and drink o' the same cup and think o' the same things from one day's end to another? Just the same? That's idle talk. You'd act us i' two. Mr. Cass: (Severely.) I should have thought Marner, I should have thought your affection for Eppie would make you rejoice in what : was for her good, even if it did call

upon you to give up something. You ought to remember your own life's uncertain, and she's at an age now when her lot may soon be fixed in a way very different from what it would be in her father's home; she may marry some low working man, and then, whatever I might do for her, I couldn't make well off. You're putting yourself in the way of her welfare; and though I'm sorry to hurt you after what you've dene and what I've left undone, I feel now it's my duty to insist on taking care of my own daughter. I want to do my duty. Silas: (Tremulously.) I'll say no more. Let it be as you will. Speak to the child. I'll hinder nothing. Mr. Cass: (Looks at Eppie with embarrassment.) Eppie, my dear, it'll always be our wish that you should show your love and gratitude to one who's been a father to you so many years, and we shall want to help you to make him comfortable in every way. But we hope you'll come to love us as well; and, though I haven't been what a father should ha' been to you all these years, I wish to do the utmost in my power for you for the rest of my life and provide for you as my only child., and you'll have the beBt of mothers in my wife. That'll bo a blessing you haven't known since you were old enough to know it. Mrs. CasB: (Gentle voice.) My dear, you'll be a treasure to me. We shall want for nothing when we have our daughter. Eppie: (With a cold decision.) , Thank you ma'am thank you, sir, for your offers; they're very great and far above my wish. For I should have no delight i life any more if I was forced to go away from my father and knew he was sitting at home a thinking of me and feeling lonely. We've been used to being happy together every day, and I can't think o' no happiness without him. And he says he'd took care of me and loved me from

the first, and I'll leave to him as long as he lives, and nobobdy shall ever come between him and me. Silas: (In a low voice.) But you must make sure, Eppie. You must make sure as you won't ever be sorry because you've made your choice to stay among poor folks, and with poor clothes and things, when you might ha' had everything o' the best. Eppie: I can never be sorry, father. I shouldn't know what to think on or to wish for with fine things about me as I haven't been used to. And it 'ud be poor work for me to put on things and ride in "a gig, and sit in a place in church as 'ud make 'era as I'm fond of thinking me unfitting company for 'tm. What should I care for then? (Mrs. Cass looks at Mrs. Cass, whose eyes are fixed on the floor, where he moves the end of his stick.) Mrs. Cass (Mildly.) What you say is natural, my dear child, it's natural you should cling to those who've brought you up, but there's a duty you owe to your lawful father. Ther's perhaps some things to be given up on more sides than one. When your father opens his home to you, I think it's right you shouldn't turn your back on it. Eppie: (Impetuously, while tears gather.) I can't feel as I've got any father but one. I've always thought or a little home where he'd sit i' the corner, and I should fend and do everything for ! him. I can't think o' no other home. I wasn't brought up to be a lady, and I can't turn my mind to it. I like the working folks and their victuals and their ways. And (passionately, while the tears fall), I promised to marry a workingman, as'll live with father and help me to take care of him. (Godfrey looks at Nancy with a flushed face.) Mr. Cass: (In an undertone.) Let us go. (Goes to the door.) Mrs. Cass: (Rising.) We won't talk of this any longer, now. We're your wellwlshers, my dear, and yours, too, Marner. We shall come and see you again. It's getting late now. (Mrs. Cass follows Mr. Cass to the door.) Benjamin Dallas Prooves Fins Sunday School Teacher. "Miss Scott the Second" (Benjamin Dallas) makes a very fine Sunday school teacher, according to reports from all the boys in the class. Candy was served to all the members of the class, but the teacher got the most A good time was enjoyed by all those present Frederick Weir.

Query Corner

The editor will try to answer questions readers of tho Junior submit to her. She will not iprouiise to answer all of them. The questions will be answered in rotation, so do not expect the 'answer to bo printed in (he same week in which you send It In. Dear Aunt Molly: Since I hear that you can answer almost any question, I wish you would help me with this one. When, where and why was Methuselah born; and when, where and under what conditions did he die? Richard A. Thornburg. Dear Dicky : Indeed I shall help you out, for although my own abstruse research into paleontology, entomology and histological ontogony falls to supply the information youdesire, I still have an unfailing sorceress known as Ima Gination, and she supplied me with the following data: According to her mystic records, Methuselah was born the seventh Wednesday after the seventh Monday following the seventh pascal phase of the new moon in the seventh century of the seventy-seventh hundred million years following the final recession of the last glacial drift His birthplace, as nearly as she could locate it, was 6' 35' 34" north latitude; 33 32' 31" east longitude. And the cause of great Methuselah entering this vale of tears and gum-chewing school boys was that all men of all nations might marvel that he endured this world so long. As to his death, the famous sorceress is mystic, quite mystic. "I see dark clouds gathering as for a mighty flood," she breathes. "I see years, many years, bending the shoulders of an old, old man under their weight Nine hundred years, with nine and sixty more, are added to his never equaled burden, and in the shadowy twilight of a life's dim close, I see the old man tottering, failing, vanishing. He is gone! Methuselah, great Methuselah, is no more." Does that suit you, Dick? Aunt M. Dear Aunt Molly: Why do we have April Fool Day? Ruby M. Moore. Because since all wise and learned people have holidays declared in their honor, it's only fair to have one day for the rest of us. Aunt M. Dear Aunt Molly: Do you have thrift stamps? Harry Murray. Dear Harry: Am I an American? Indeed yes! But if you mean to ask if we have them to sell, no. Aunt M. Dear Editor: Is it true that Indiana schools are second only to Ohio schools in standard of education? J. S. M., Lewlsburg, O. Yes, that is true, if you want to give the Buckeye state a rather black eye. For Indiana school are second to no school or school system in the whole universe. Editor. Say Aunt Molly did putatuh bugs come from Germany? Jimmie G. Dear Jimmie: I believe not. Since a careful study undeT the microscope fails to disclose any sign of the notorious trade mark, and since they merely are a rather slow clumsy land pest lacking "kultur", scientists are led to believe that they simply crawled over the top of a famous pit which is a rather mild sub-station to Germany proper. No doubt, had the potatoe bugs come from Hun-land itself, they would be equipped both with wings and fins, so that they not only could descend on our potato plants from the air, but spring from streams and water spouts as welL Aunt Molly. BOYS WORK ON FARM. Every healthy boy in Oklahoma fifteen years old or over is being called by the state council of defense to do two weeks of farm work at a time and place assigned by the council itself. "Teach me to feel another's woe. To bid the faults I see; That mercy I to others show. That Mercy shows to me."