South Bend News-Times, Volume 38, Number 247, South Bend, St. Joseph County, 4 September 1921 — Page 26

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,-,7; - - ' . -. ' - v . r . . 7-' ' "r t .. M 3Irs. Ralph Lee 'WTiite, Who Returned from Her Honeymoon Tour and Found Her New Home Had Been Wrecked by Vandals. By Joseph H. Appelgate THE wholft situation can be described by tbat war-coinrd word frifitf ulnss. That's just what happened tc- tho love nest of Mr. and Mrs. Ralph Leo White, at Malba, L. I. No other term would quite fit it. For it was outvandalizinc tho Vandals. Thexfl ar twtj supremely rublime 5ipht3 in nature a mating bird building its net and a prospective bride appoinrinc: her love cote. In each instance there is tho thought of motherhood. Out cf the brrast of tho winced builder comes the plucked down to mako the nest soft; out of the breast of tha woman come3 the pentlo thoughts that pive the infinitely tender touch. It is Labor, but the kind of labor that i3 accompanied by the song of heart and tfiroat. Follows the occupancy. It Is the realization of the lon-lookcd-fbr thin?. The home has been realized. Th effort to maintain it then LefTin. The silent battlo against enemies fortign and domestic And If , in tho end, the homo is broken, the solitary one lifta the oppression of orrow by the thought of tbo rapture that was. But when the nest Is torn asunder before its tenancy, It is a different situation. There has been no fruition to the labor spent. The happy chance3 which discovered this dove-tailin combination of twij, that necessary leaf or bit of cotton, have been wasted. Perhaps the loss cannot be met. This irretrievable loss is the terrible toll that vandalism levies. The reward of the vandals is the unhealthy reflex of satisfaction, spite, prompted nost oftotiby envy. It was so with the original Vandals who burned the famous Alexandrian library. Because they could not understand, they destroyed. And it was so with tho modern vandals of Malba, L. I , who descended in the nijrht on the love nest of the Whites. In the little community of beautiful homes the deed still fosters. It is as if someone had shut off the sunlight cn that particular dwelling, the only habitation with a shadow in that "spotl?ss" town, built on the slope which rises pently up from the point where New York's East River becomes Long Island Sound. An Architectural Jewel The dwelling was presented to the bride by her father. I. J. Merritt, head cf the MerrittChapman Wrecking Company. It was one of the architectural jewels in nature's setting of green lawns, shady maples and century-living oaks. But now the lustre seems to have prone from it and there is an involuntary shudder from other newlyweds when they pass the place and point to it as the love r.cst that was wrecked because some person or persons entertained a sorry spite. The police are searching- for- the vandals. But even though they are caught and punished a3 the law sees fit, no punitive ac: could be severe enough for such a crime nor begin to undo the damage that was wrought. Mrs. White's only consolation is the thought of the happy moments the passed in putting her r.cst in order. Mrs. White, who was Miss Dorothy Merritt, a

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: ,-7-;.v7 77.-v '- t . , , . . ' . ( J - : 7.::7--;ir '::, " a- . to 77 4w '.v".-X. :7: ;;7-t mi -v- . .7-.' 7 The $20,000 "Love Nest" of the Whites at Malba, L.I., a Gift from the Bride's Father. society beauty of Whitestone, L. I., and New ork, would not permit any hands but her own to put that house in order She had a corps of servants at call. She would not think of them. Moreover, the house is the servantless type. She wanted to keep it so, absolutely. She placed this chair just "here," she draped this curtain just "so," she laid this ru? "like this." The result was perfect. She was obeying the instincts that Eve originated. In this place, after their return, she and hubby would continue the fine ecstasies of the honeymoon tour through Yellowstone Park. The Toll That Spite Took But when, a few days ago, the couple arrived home and turned the key, the in-swinging- door revealed to the shocked sight the mischief which had been done. In the centre of the living room floor was her pretty tabouret, overturned and broken. Reflected in its cracked polished top was a great brown hole burnt in tho beautiful rug by the cigarette stub that had bten permitted to burn just long enough to ruin the priceless covering before it was stamped ojt underfoot. The electric lamp was also smashed, its bulb, intact, mocking the ruined shade. One gossamer curtain at the window had been torn down, another was half-ripped, pitifully hiding its gaping wound in the drapery in which it once was so beautifully framed. Paintings were punctured and askew, molding was broken, a great liquid stain marred the tint of the ceilin?, and china and bric-a-brac, smashed to- smithereens, were strewn all about, as if it were a china cet that the bull had visited. The newjyweds stood aghast. "Burglars!" he exclaimed. ."Vandals, villains, you mean!" she ejaculated, her eyes blazing with righteous anger. Throughout the house they found the same condition. And when they reached her room they found that every bit of her linen and lingerie had been stolen, while articles of value such as silverware, in plain sight, were undisturbed. Chiffonier fronts were scratched and ripped, her dressing table mirror was shivered, even the mattress of the bed had been laid open by a razor-like stroke of a knife. The chisel that had teen used to mar the chiffonier showed its identifying mark as plainly as a mad dog's bite. The two sat down on the ruined bed and looked at each other. For a long time neither spoke. Then she said: "Someone with a spite." Ar.d he answered: "Ye?, and the way to defeat their object is to laugh at them!"

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er Whil MW.'I ',J - f ikÄ? "'il - i fA .i - s : -- 7 7 :f 7. 7 7 ';' 'J - 7- 7,' -7 : ,4 -V. 7 Mrs. C. Blackburn Miller, Sister to the Bride, Who Savs She Has an Idea as to the Identity of the "Love Nest" Wreckers. Thus it was that the heroic couple met tha situation. They laughed at the wrecker and the wreckage. And they tell their sympathizing friends that within a v?ry few days the house will be again, in order and that they, if such a thing is possible, will be drawn closer to each other because of the occurrence. So they are taking another instalment of honeymoon happiness while the plasterers and carpenters are at work. When they return from thrs second trip they will replace the broken furniture and restore the purloined trousseau. And it was this second trip that prevented m7 interviewing them after I had made the long trip to Malba. From New York City it is easily reached. The electric train fairly roars out of the Pennsylvania terminal at Thirty-third street, dives under the East River and lets you off just thirty minutes later at the beautiful little Malba station. It was a perfect morning when I arrived there and the East River, stretching forth its hand to the Sound, was as blue as the Mediterranean. A cooling breeze swept the slope and gently swayed the grand old trees.' The clean sidewalk's seemed like silver ribbens, so. brightly did they shine agamst the vfvitl greCn of the immaculate lawns. Before long I came upon 4 buxom housewife cutting plantain leaves out of her otherwise healthy grassplot. I apologized profusely for unceremoniously It aping over her hedje and walking across that world of clean green blades. NfwpnP" Ioitt;r rr!f. 1921.

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Terrible thing, that vandalism over at th White home," I said, by way of introduction. "Yes, it was terrible,' she replied, risrtng. "Anyone mean enough to do that would strike iis mother." We introduced each other and fell to tho pleasing task of hypsthetically solving the mystery. The question of a jilted ' man or woman was considered. "That r.eems most probable," she said, "except that no one seems ever to have heard of any broken engagement." "Perhaps you have a theory?" I angled. She looked at me quizzically and replied: "I know of a caso that happened not so very long ago where vandals wrecked a home similarly. There was much mystery about who did it, until it was found out that the furniture ruined had been the gift of her divorced husband to the 6ister of the bride, who had in turn given the furniture to help furnish the new love nest. When the investigators got that far they stopped." The Mystery' Deepena "Is there any such possibility in the White case?" "I don't know anything about their private affairs," she answered. I continued my inquiries, my wanderings eventually landing me at Beechurst, a town of beauties clad in one-piece bathing suits eclipsing all the other wonders of nature. Fearing the arrival of the village constable, I reluctantly discontinued catcchizin j a score or so of these and got down to business in the shape of a man who bore the name of Merritt and who was a brother to the bride's father. He seemed to be a regular chip of the block of Grandpa "Ike" Merritt, founder of the Merritt-Chapman Wrecking Company and up to his death the most picturesque figure from Cape Horn to Labrador. I found this individual atop his flat rear extension roof, laying tin a3 busily as a Trojan. He, surely, would know if there were any rumors current ::

Her Pretty Tabouret. Cherturned TTnd Rrokcn. A Great Brown Hole Burnt in the Beautiful Rue The Electric Lamp Wa Smaphrd. Painting Wcro Punctured and Askew. Molding Wan Broken, n Greai Liuuid Stafn Marred the Tint of th CeilineandChira and Bric-a-hrrr, Smashed to Smithereens. Were Strewn About." ! ff ! Mi v in the family! So I clamberd up the ladder, having in mind the consequences tnat might ensue if the connection between earth and shed were suddenly pushed over, smiled into his ruddy and weather-beaten countenance, and asked him what he knew. "Nothing," was his laconic answer. Then, eyeing me sharply a bit, he added: "I'm nothing but one of the poor relations." It might be well to interpolate here that when the old sea-wrecker died he willed about $750,000 to his namesake, who is the father of Mrs. White. I descended the ladder and rode shank's mare some more. Pretty soon I encountered another robust looking citizen, of whom I inquired the way to the Shore road. He. too, working garb and all, indicated that he earned his bread in the sweat of his brow and did not have an office electric fan to cool him. "I'm your man," he answered. "I can tell you. rm a Merritt. also. A poor relation, ycu know." "There seems to be quite a flack," I paid. "Oh, yes," he smiled. "If Grar.dpop had divided it all equally I guess it wouldn't have gono very far." I enjoyed a walk of a quarter-mile with this stout vtrtnbra of Uncle Sam's backbone of Americanism and next found myself talking with Mrs. C. Blackburn Miller, who was Miss Gladys Merritt, sister to the bride. I found her on th old-fashioned, 100-foot veranda about the Merritt mansion, shaded at the entrance wide by the nearest of a row of mighty maples that arched with another row above the driwway leading down to the Shore read, pea-shooter distance from th-; Sound. "All my sister's furniture came first-hand," the declared, when she had heard repeated the story told by the portly plaintain picker. Mrs. MilleT would not confirm or deny the gossip that cne of the Merritt daughters does not live with her husband. "You have suspicions ?" I asked. "Yes, quite clear," she replied, laughing. "An 1 while my sister is out of town I shall seo what I can make out of them. Too bad you could not see her. She might have told you something that would have helped you on your investigation." But until remorse or arrest brings from tho lips of the culprit or culprits the story first-hand, the mystery of the looted love rst will remain a mystery.

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