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Newspaper Page Text
now a'nd then by some passing
liner. Some of them drift across
the Atlantic, some are beached on
the shores on-either side of the
Joseph marrington a
, . New York, April 17. Tramping-
nervously up and down the
corridors of the White Star of
fices, his eyes heavy from lack ot
sleep, his face white and strained,
Joseph ,Francis Marrington this
morning began the third day of a
' Marrington is a modern David,
waiting, hoping, praying, for
news of the life or death " of his
Jonathan, the Jonathan who sav
ed his life in days gone by.
Marrington was one of the
, first at the White Star offices aft
er the news of the Titanic dis
aster was flashed over a horrified
5e came not to ask for wife or
sweetheart, parent' or child. He
came for news of his chum, Will
iam Slocum Lambert, of Greens
There was no news at all then.
There has been no hews of Lam-
bert since. But Marrington will
not leave. He has not even eat
- ' nen since Monday morning.
: U Even when, at dawn today, the
worn officials of the line again
gently tdld him that there was
'no news," Marrington answer
ed sjmply: "I'll wait."
v . "He is my friend," he explain
edi simply today. "I cannot go
tm'til I kno'w if he be . alive or
. "He saved my life years ago.
Now I can do nothing save
watch and pray.
"Ten years ago, Will Lambert
and I started into the jungles vof
Ecuador for rubber. Sickness at
tacked our party. Our natives all
died, or deserted. They left us
without food just Lambert
"The jungle sickness came ov
er me. I wanted to die. I was
too sick to struggle for life.
"But Will Lambert would not
let me have my way. He kept me
going; kept me on my feet;
threatened to fight me if I -lay
down. I was delirious half the
time. I did fight him. But he
kept me going until at last we
reached civilization, and reason
returned to me.
"Our friendship was sealed in
those bitter days of horror. I
never can forget what he" did for,
me when it would have been so
easy for him to save himself.
"Now I am afraid he is gone.
But God'is good, and I will not
give up hope. I'll never give up
until they tell me in so many
words that Will Lambert is
And then the van, weary fig
ure turned away and resumed the
dreary march of hopelessness up
and down the corridors of death.
Even the climate is revolution
ary, these days. Late rains on
the Pacific coast, late snow in the
East, the Mississippi on the ram
page. May have to call out the
troops to suppress the, climate,
too ' " '