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Newspaper Page Text
Testimony taken in the Ballinger
Pinchot investigation showed that a
contract was actually executed be
tween the Cunningham claimants
and the Morgan-Guggenheim Syndi
cate, on the basis of .which the syn
dicate expected a profit of at least 50
cents a ton at the mine. Coal Ex
pert Kennedy estimated for the Cun
ningham claims alone a net market
able product of eighty million tons.
Thus the Guggenheim Syndicate ex
pected to make a profit of $40,000,000
out of the Cunningham claims alone.
They had designs also on other
groups aggregating, in addition, five
hundred million tons, which, with a
similar estimated profit, would have
netted them $250,000,000. The Cun
ningham group was only a spot in the
middle of the Behriag river field.
There was once a mother of young
boys who thought it her duty to in
struct them in what we know of the
mystery of life. So she took them
very carefully through a series of
talks in which she told the story of
births from the simplest forms up.
Into these talks she wove much of
poetry, philosophy, religion; but she
tried to be exact in her science.
Though she didn't use the scientists'
big words, she told the truth so far
as science has revealed it the beau
tiful truth. And perhaps, mother-like,
she idealized a bit as what good
Then she sat back, with fear and
trembling, to see what the harvest
One day the boys went to visit a
chum on a farm not far off. They
were to be gone all day.
Suddenly they came home.
"Why, what's the matter?" mother
"Oh, we dont' want to -play with
Edwin any more," came the reply.
"Had a quarrel, did you?"
"No, mother, no quarrel. You see,
it was this way: Edwin took us out
to see the cows. And there was a
mother cow that was soon to bring
a little baby cow into the world and
Edwin talked nasty about that moth
er cow and, mother, we thought of
you, and we just turned 'round and
Yes, the truth is best; the beautiful,
the saving truth!
One evening while dining at the
domicile of a friend, you know, we
were served a delicious soup. In
stantly I was disconcerted by the as
tounding noises made by the young
master of the household, and his em
barrassed father reproved him in this
"What do you think you are, Syl
vester Botts a fire, tug in action?.
Stop trying to drain that two-eared
consomme scuttle as if you were
flushing a duck pond! Hey, kid, nix
ton the patriotic and ragtime selec
tions every time you dip a shovel full
of canned broth into-your map. Gum
shoe, kid, gum-shoe!"