The Bismarck tribune. [volume], August 01, 1923, Image 4

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PAGE FOUR
THE BISMARCK TRIBUNE
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SMALLEST MAN
The smallest matured man in the world is Peppino Magro.
In the big circus the barker points him out as Baron Paucci.
\ iiis show-business name.
Magro is 29 years old, but he is only 27 inches tall and
* weighs only 26 pounds.
Born in Sicily, at the age of 15 he went* through the great
Messina earthquake. They dug him out from under a pile of
: bricks and plaster that would have killed any normal man.
His-small'size saved him. Handicaps frequently are
Lle«? ; ngs at critical moments.
The man who is afraid of the water because he can’t
swim is not apt to be drowned. It is the accomplished
swimmer, lured by overconfidence, who takes the dangerous
chaffi’es.
We know a one-armed man who views his handicap so
philosophically that in his bluest moments he cheers up and
says: “O well, one thing, I can never get my right arm
cut off.” •
Peppino Magro, world’s smallest man, has about as great
a handicap as any living. And yet his very handicap
is his means of livelinood, a sort of blessing in disguise. In
September he will become an American citizen, and in apply
ing for naturalization papers he gave his occupation as “ex
hibiting myself.”
Few of us would care to trade places with him and be only
27 inches tall. Many of us consider a shortage of a few
inches in our height a misfortune or even an outright
handicap.
Peppino, hcwcu r, takes life jovially. His latest observa
tion—comparing himself with the world about him—is that
he will fight Dempsey if Jack will train down to his weight.
Let’s keep Peppino in mind and not take our troubles too
seriously.
It would be, to most of us, a handicap to bo the world’s
smallest man, Peppino Magro. And we would consider it a
similar handicap to be Antonin, the French giant, 7 feet 4
inches tall in his bare feet..
In a world of midgets, Peppino would be on equal footing
with all. So would Antonin, in a world of giants.
Handicaps, physically, are handicaps only by comparison
with the average of humanity.
It is so with intellect, to some extent. The extremes
genius and sub-normal mentality—simultaneously are of this
world and yet not of it. Possibly life is happier when we
are normal, just average people. Brilliancy, like inferiority,
is born into miseries that the rank and file escape.
In a world of monkeys, better to be a monkey than
a superman.
RED MEN
The American Indians have stopped “becoming extinct.”
There are about 341,000 of them in the United States now,
an increase of 13,500 in 10 years. And their death rate has
been declining in the last decade.
Now and then you read about Indians who have become
Extremely rich by oil royalties. Others are plodding along
like the rest of us, the business system gradually getting
them irt its clutches. Indians own 35 million dollars worth
of livestock, including over a million sheep, a quarter of a
million head of cattle and about the same number of horses
and mules.
Forty-four thousand Indian families live in permanent
houses. Indian farmers number 41,000. Uncle Sam esti
mates that Indian property is worth a billion dollars, or
around S3OOO apiece.
Not a very romantic situation, you’ll reflect as you read
these figures about the condition of the Indians. A Red
Man tilling irrigated soil, dickering in oil leases, shipping
ffteers to the Chicago market or engaged in the wool indus
try seems rather out of place in popular imagination.
Most of us prefer the* open-country life of the Indians in
the old days before the white men hunted down the majority
<ft them and cooped the rest in reservations.
In a great many ways the old-time Indians, lived an ideal
existence, close to nature. Would you trade places with
Diem?
£ Well, it’s too late. They are rapidly becoming “civilized,”
and are even adopting our religion 48,000 Indians are
Protestants and 59,000 Catholics.
WEATHER
~ Holland has been sweltering in the hottest weather it has
Bad since 1887. The heat wave struck other European coun
tries at about the same time.
~ Only a few months ago many scientists were predicting
tha|l923 would be “a year without a summer.” It certainly
lodkoi that way during the cold, late spring.
But summer is on the job, as usual. It is typical of con
ditions and situations generally in our nervously apprehen
sive world. We are constantly fearing a calamity or crisis
that never arrives.
j Most of our troubles are imaginary—nightmares of fear.
} PRICES
Retail prices in Germany double in one month: If we
piad a similar situation you can imagine the time you'd have,
forcing your income to keep pace with mounting prices. „ ( It
wouldn't*
, We haven’t toured Germany lately, but we'll wager that
the price situation is THE THING to the average German,
rather than revenge, indemnity or the occupation of the Ruhr.
DANGER
Women, if you live 85 years you have in a sense passed
the danger mark. From about 15 to 86, in recent years, the
deatih rate has been higher among women than men* But
after 35 the mortality rate of men is higher than women's.
6 every year. *,
» Man's dissipation and lolly begin to collect their tolls at
ghont Die age of 95. vWild* oats yield a sure crop.' /
EDITORIAL REVIEW
Comments reproduced la this
column may or may not expreaa
the opinion of The Tribune. They
are preedited here la order that
otir render* may have both aldee
of Important (aaues which are
being dlacnaeed in the erees of
the day
TIIE PROFESSIONAL MAN’S
LIVING PROBLEM
A young professional man, in a let
ter Recently published in this col
umn, expressed a desire for an ex
pert budget for a man in his class
whose income ranges from SII,OOO to
$4,000 a year, showing “how he can
save enough in 100 years to bury him
self decently when ho dies." This
voung man at the age of 32, with an
income that has not averaged s3,f>oo n
year, is wondering if it “pays to ed
ucate oneself, to marry, to attempt
to establish and maintain a cultured
American home, to rear children, to
be an active member of one’s society,
working for better conditions and re
lations among one’s fellow men.’ -
Brushing aside for the moment fi
nancial considerations, we declare un
qualifiedly that such a life does pay
pays the man himself, pays society
and the country richly, even though
the man dies without a dollar's worth
of property to will to his family, ex
cept an insurance policy. The live*
of tens of thousands of professional
men whose useful careers are mnd n
possible only by closest economics
and continuous self-denial, amply
demonstrate this fact The influence
of the family whose life is intellect
ual and refined. 'Who keep abreast of
the best thought of the times, who
live always on a narrow cash margin,
and who stand for respectability and
honor and righteous principles, is all
important in the best American life.
The four leading professions—m
numbers and in influence—are those
followed by the lawyer, the doctor,
the clergyman and the teacher. In
almost any decade, except the most
recent, all of these professions have
been underpaid as a whole—as badly
underpaid, all things considered, as
ever was common labor or the trades
Now that wages have advanced be
yond all precedent, it is timely, as
our correspondent suggests, to give
consideration in an era of high living
costs to professional men who live
on fees and salaries, and who are
popularly regarded as highly pros
perous because their positions require
them to maintain at least the out
ward semblance of financial ease even
when sorely pinched for lack of
funds. The public judges the profes
sions by their leaders, and think;
them all fortunate—financially. But
the landlord, the grocer and the but
cher know better.
Take the lawyers first —not in the
big cities, but in the towns of from
| 30,000 down to the little county seats
j of two, three or four thousand poo
ulation, where their number totals
| largest, and what will one find? Two
i or three of a dozen, possibly half a
I dozen out of 30. with an income in
j excess of their necessities; and here
and there, one whose accumulations
compare favorably with those of suc
cessful business men in their com
munities. No wonder so many of them
seek to supplement their inadequate
incomes by following to their utter
J ruin the ignis fatuus of political of
i flee. Teaching is notoriously the
J poorest paid of the professions—-o
1 scandalously underpaid in many pub
! lie schools that the State has been
compelled to establish by law mini
mum salaries, small enough in all
conscience. In most colleges it is no
better when qualifications required
are considered: In one of the finest
small colleges in America, established
in 1835, now endowed with slightly
more than a million dollars, profes
sors were paid only $1,500 a year in
1910. In 1920 they got $2,000. Now
they are getting $3,000. But all around
them are business men earning much
more, even men in the trades, and
accumulating property rapidly while
they scrape along unable to save a
dollar, yet performing a service to
the sons and daughters of well-to-do
men, of incalculable value to society j
at large. We need not discuss the sac-1
rifices of clergymen here. They are
known to all; men from whom radi- j
ate the finest influences of life,!
working at the price of a mere ex-!
istence—laying jtp treasures in hea-1
ven, doubtless, but unable, many of i
them, to give their children even a !
college education. ,
Only the medical profession ha»
within the last decade advanced to a
business basis. The dreadful “flu”
years put them on their feet, econom
ically, but at heavy costs to tens of
thousands of bereaved families all
over the land, many of whom gave
up the savings of years to provide
medical attendance and save the lives
of loved ones during long periods of
ill health following that awful
scourge. Now the profession is well
organized. Its fees for service have
been greatly increased everywhere,
and the outward signs of its pros
perity are visible in improved home 3,
sound investments and many luxuries
the physician of 20 years ago never
dreamed of possessing.
What shall the lawyer, the teach
er, and the clergyman do in the grip
of present living costs? It is easy to
say unite in demands for larger fees
and salaries, but that will not suf
fice for this week’s or this month’s
budget. With multitudes of men in
these three professions barely ‘‘Set
ting by” on their present incomes,
and in many cases dipping into the
small savings of foftner years, it is
little less than insulting for “the high
priests of thrift and economy” to
preach to them. It-is not the task cf
a business man’s paper to show them
the way. But we may In all sincerity
give them full credit for the nbbility
of their service to mankind and de
clare again what we said in the be
ginning, that they are among the most
useful of men, thnt their lives arc of
the greatest importance to the wel
fare of society u 4 of the state, and
that we are glad tb do what we can
to promote their financial interests
by trying to arouse public sentiment
in their behalf. It must not be'for
gotten that muscle, and mechanical
skill never £id and never can take the
place of intellect and education as
an asset of civilisation and enlighten
ed/government. Journal of
Commerce.
——i i i
Dancing! McKenzie Roof
Garden Tuesday, Thu***,
days and Saturdays. 10c
dracfi. Coolest spot in Bis
mayck.
THE BISMARCK TRIBUNE
LETTER FROM SYDNEY CAR
TON TO JOHN ALDEX
PRESCOTT.
DEAR JACK:
Glad to get your letter. Fm aw
fully sorry for you. :ld chap.
You are certainly getting you
share of trouble. My advice V
you, now that you know that Les
lie is getting every possible car'
! that could be given her and that i
\ is given with much better method
j than you cculd give it. is to sett!
i down to your work. Do not rta
jin the sick room too much. It wb
keep vou from think'ng abot
yourself, and help you to lay up :
| few dollars for Leslie’s benef
when the recovers, if yeu turn tr
, your work with a will.
Oh, yes, I know th't it j;atherl
hurts yaur pride to think that Les I
! lie’s father is putting up thousand
!of dollar.- to pay fer your wife’,
j illness, but it would hurt you
jheart worse if you ha 1 to depem
upon your own rescuro'is to reim
burse the no ses and * specialist
who are caring for Leslie now.
father, of caurse, woul
not see h r daughter want for th
slightest thing to make her com
fortable and I consider that you
are very fortunate in falling i?
.love with a gi:l whose father ha
as much money as Leslie’:, has.
By the way, I have had a letter
fro-m Pau’a Peri r -r. (Hate to in
ject P. P. into your life just at
present.) I .thought you might
perhaps be interested to know that
she is g ring out to Hollywood to
go into pictures. You rentemb'}
she always did photograph #>rett*
well and I think she will strike he
gait out there.
She has raid nothing to me
EVERETT TRUE
BREAKERS AHEAD?
\ .b*. ut the child . incc that first wire
syir.g one had been born. I
aren't the slightest idea whether
t »s alive or dead.
Life's a queer thing, isn’t it.
'ack? Here is Leslie who, if what
ou told me is correct, is slowly
ving because her child, born in
erpec lability and wedlock, was
akcn away firm her, and poor lit
e Paula, who probably did not
ant her child, to whom it was a
hame and disgrace, is saddled
ith with one.
Treat it with as much derision
s we may, after all, old chap, it
the woman who pays.
Honestly, Jack, I believe if I'
vere a woma/i I would start out to
rive every man I know as much
• rouble a;; possible. I hear you
''aughing as you read this and I
-now you a:e saying. "What an
Id scntlmentali t you are, Syd.’’
Perhaps I am. Jack, and it is be
ause I am that I have never felt
ike inflicting myself upon a wo
man. I have never seen a mm yet
vho was worthy the least worthy
woman and when I marry I want a
rood woman for my wife.
. Whenever i find myself falling
‘n love I find myself asking, "What
have you got to give a good wo- !
-man?” and I draw back immedi-;
ately.
We ask so much and give so lit
tle; we become bored so easily and j
all the while it never enters ouri
minds that by any possibility we are i
-tupid at times ourselves.
There, I'm going to stop writing, i
It isn’t like me to sermonize, you
know that, Jack. Neither do I set
myself up in a position a ; one of
those “better than thou” critics,:
but someway this blooming coin-!
BY CONDO
cidence of babies has got my goat
Yours,
SYD.
The thing seems to be spreading.
Mexico Will have a presidential
election next spring also.
“What,” asks a Los Angeles pro
fessor, “can the modern girl jdo?”
Prof, you’d be surprised.
England -and France couldn’t get
much madder at each other if they
were baseball umpires.
In Paris, nine bakers were ar
rested and fined some dough.
Seattle man of 7G ha 3 married
again; the spirit of 76.
What the United States needs is
summer only every other day.
South Sea Island rivals end it .by
eating the girl. We have seen them
want to do it here.
Trouble with living in a big
house is you are more liable to
move to a sanitarium.
‘that’s in your telephone?”
asks an advertiser. Two* million
wrong numbers and a boiler shop.
K we ever learn how scarce
hen’s teeth are we can tell you how
scarce peace in in Europe.
What’;- in a name? Mr. Grinsav
afe of 1 Sioux City, la., has just
been arrested fior cruelty.
More bedtime stories by radio.
Presidential candidates will use it
for delivering speeches.
“Flapperitis,” says a Chicago
doctor, “is a disease.” But it
doesn’t keep them at home.
What tickles a biy more than
patsinjT the school during vaca
tion ?
When a woman gets all her bills
paid she thinks the neighbors are
not her kind of folks.
This is the montJi you are dirty
again before you get cleaned up.
Hair nets last much longer if
worn with perfect gentlemen.
Unscrambling eggs and reading
monograms are pbout the same.
Take'a bottle of lodine to the
woods to be used after opening
pickles or sardines. ' . f
Cold cream helps sunburn* but it
doesn’t help enough.
You can eliminate superfious
hair with lasting results by trying
to bite a wildcat. v
.\
Silk stockings will seldom , run
unless you do. V,
' y?■■» ±- f ’
It is getting w.arnf enough to
pose for soap advertisements.
People in just about every walk
of life are rising now. A v
• **—■*“— v
The hardest building to find in a
stiange town is *the library.
A calamity is when a lasy man
gets stung in the seat of the pants
so he can’t sit
A small town is whei)e they say
•Yes, we have no pajamas^*
IW speed of a swallow is about
65 miles an,houiv v
WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 1, 1923
y&u&v/
Bronze Jar (y
NBA Sml«. 1... 1121 »» S "'"-
BEGIN UERE TODAY
I’oter Pennington, known as "QV'
n«*se” Pennington, because o' nn
slant eyes, is detailed by the govern
ment to run to earth The Yellow
Seven, a gang of Chinese bandits, lit
suspects Chiu-liung, influential Chr
nese, of being leaner of the gang
Pennington is in lovg with Monica
Viney, sister qf Captain John Hewitt
t'oiiiinissioner of Police at Jesselton
British North Burnt o. Monica re
ceives a Siamese kitten for a present
ami names il Peter alter Pennington
NOW GO WITH TIIE STORY
Pennington held n roving commis
sion. The extraordinary accident ol
birth that had condemned him to gt
through life with two diagonal slit?
for eyes, had been mainly responsible
for the unusual career he had se
lected. When occasion demanded, he
assumed the guise of a half-casti
trnder, of a Chinese shop-keeper, s
coolie, or even , a mandarin. And ir
his jungle wandering*, the natives
who had dubbed him “h* who sees ir
the dark, had endo\f«<t him als<
with sundry other power*.
As far iv* was humanly possible
Pennington worked aloud, and the
Commissioner of Police was nevei
surprised when |)<- disappeared ;oi
weeks at n. time, nor bothered hi!
head about this extraordinary youth
until he turned up again. It was
shortly after his interview with Chi
nese Pennington, however, that cer
tain incidents occurred that gave
food for reflection. On visiting tin
shop of Lien-Yin —the agent of th«
notorious Chai-Hung—Hewitt founc
it closed, and none of the neighbor
ing traders appeared able to supply
him with the information he soughl
as to the where abouts of Lien-Yir
himself.
Hewitt returned to the bungalov
in search of Pennington, onVv t<
learn that he had gone out half ar
hour before, and had left no mes
sage. The Commissioner swore softlj
t. to himself and sent the boy for Moni
ca. It occurred to him that his sistei
might be of help. At any rate, she
was probably the last person wht
had seen Bennington.
The servant returned with a mes
sage that Monica was suffering Iron
a severe headache and that he was
not to wait lunch for her.
The Chinese servant shuffled ii
and placed a small tray on the tabl«
before him. The Commissionei
reached out for the glass, looking
down all the while at the man’s bar<
toes.
“What did you buy at the shop o
Lien-Yin this morning?” he demand
cd with sudden fierceness.
The Chinaman started violently,
’ “Nothing, tuan,” he stammered
evidently taken off his guard.
Hewitt's brows converged.
“What were you doing there—i:
. you bought nothing?”
>- The creature opened l his mouth
” but no sound came. He stood befori
the Englishmans twisting his finger
together; glancing from lone objoc
it to another as if in Bearch of in
y spiration.
“The shop of Lien-Yin is closed,’
he announced suddenly,
r- The Commissioner sprang to hii
feet. He crossed to the rail and callct
to an orderly on duty outside,
d “I am going to arrest you, mj
friend,” he said grimly.
The servant’s eyes dilated witi
t S terror and he shrank back agains
the wall, both hands outstretched ii
front of him.
y “But, why, tuan?”
n “Because I have seen a certaii
man who was in Lien-Yin’s shoj
when you went.” He paused to ob
~ serve the effect of this feat of imagi
G nation. “He heard you warn Lien
Yin that my men were coming t<
take him.” ,
n The features of the swarthy fac<
n hardened as the Chinaman’a eyes fel
upon the figure of the orderly whi
‘ lurkcji inquiringly on the threshold
“It is a lie, tuan,” the servant pro
tested sullenly, “because there wai
nobody in the shop when I went.”
Hewitt turned abruptly to concea
r the smile that played at the corner
7 of his mouth.
“Take him away,” he commanded
“and don’t let him out of your sight. 1
• • •
It was on the evening of the fourtl
” day after Pennington’s departur
that the new bay—engaged in plac
of the one who was'under arrest
’ came in with the announcement tha
" a deputation was waiting in the gar
den. , .
The Commissioner and Mrs. Vine:
1 were at dinner. Hewitt looked'ui
“Who are they ?” • ,
The boy shook his head.
“There are six of them ,tuan, am
1 they have come a long distance.”'
* The Commissioner shrugged hi
shoulders.
He passed a hand through his hai
r and vanished through the open door
way.
The night was unusually dark am
’ a cool breeze met him as he reachei
the open veranda. A broad rectangl
of light, coming from the house, fcl
’ upon the soft earth at the foot of th
steps, and, just beyond it, he sa\
■ the forms of six men, their whit
! garments contrasting weirdly witl
> the intense blackness without,
short, uniformed figure, in a roun<
hat and bare feet, came smartly t
• attention as he approached.
“Well, what is it?” inquire)
Hewitt.
> Before the, native non-commis
: stoned officer could reply, a tai
Chinaman pushed to the top of th<
steps and stood before the Commis
i sioner.
ho began, speakinj
rapidly jfa Malay, “* anq Lien-Yin
> the agent of the great Chal-Hung
who is dead,”
Hewitt looked up sharply.
: “Go on,” he commanded..“ Present
v. ly I shdll have something to say t<
you, LiencYin.” M .'
i “Chai-Hung, is dead,” pursued thi
other, unperturbed. ",
“So I believe/; put.in the English
1 man' coldly. He was gating towan
> a dimly-outlined case suspended fron
two poles the extremities of whid
rested oh the shooldeys of four men
r “How exactly did phai-Hung die?”
“He WXs poiponed, tuan. I canno
- tell you the thanner of hta death, be
t cause I was not thfcre.: You wil
understand.'fliat I whs the ag4ftt <r
Chai-Hung, paid to do his bidding. I<
is to further carry out his wishei
s that I have come to you tonight
* There is n boat leaving for Singa
,v pore tomorrow, tuan, and it is do
e sired that the remains of my la*-
'' master should be conveyed in it t.
j, - the tomb of his ancestors."
The Commissioner gasped. ’
i, “The remains of Chai-Hung?” hi
echoed.
* “Yah, tuan.”
' “Where are they?”
"There, tuan.” He pointed a lon«
* finger-nail toward the garden, indi
lf eating the case Hewitt had already
° seen.
s The Commissioner drummed oi
c the woodwork of the table with tin
'' tips of his fingers. Ho found it diffi
0 cult to reconcile the enormous figun
e of the Chinese bandit when alive
a with the ridiculous box that was sup
n posed to opntain all that was left o
s him when dead!
n “How do you moan—there?” h<
° demanded presently. “What dot
that case contain?”
; < “It contains a bronze jar,” sail
c Licn-Yin calmly, “and in the jar ai
r the ashes of Chai-Hung.”
r Hewitt sprang to his feet and be
* gan pacing the veranda.
h “What nonsense is this?” h
8 jerked out over his shoulder. “Sine
'* when have you commenced burnini
your dead?"
c For the first ,tjipe.Lipn-Yin smiled
e His evil, pock-marked face puokcrei
e up into innumerable wrinkles .am
d he groped in the depths of a volumi
nous sleeve. He produced a yellov
y document, wound on a rod of hlael
it wood with tassels of red qilk at eithe
n end. / ( ,
“These are the last wishes of th
w great Chai-Hung,” he said,
o “State them briefly,” commandci
n Hewitt.
i- “That, because I have lived botl
y in the West and in the East and hay
i- seln customs that are bad and som
r that are good, I would wish my bod;
e to be disposed of in a manner that
o believe to be good. That, in th
event of my death in. any place out
i- side China, my body shall be burn
n and the ashes placed in an urn mad
is by my people and suitably inscribed
and shall be transported with as lit
n tie delay as possible to the home o
e my ancestors—.”
r "I see,” broke in the Commission
g er ,taking the scroll from his hand
c “You will come to me ip the morn
ing,_Lien-Yin, for my decision. In th
if meantime both this and the packag
I- must remain here. Do you under
stand?”
The Chinaman appeared to hesi
1, tate.
“They arc the ashes of the dead,
he reminded the Commissioner,
if “Precisely,” agreed Hewitt. “Bu
you forget, Mr. Lien-Yin, that I stil
i, hold a warrant for the arrest o
•e Chai-Hung—dead or alive!”
* * *
t He stuck thfe thing on the top of
- the safe in his office.
Captain John Hewitt had long ago
” given up collecting curios, and yet
this great bronze jar fascinated him.
s If indeed the ashes of the great Chai
d Hung reposed within, his own trou
bles were at an end, Pennington was
y free to return to Singapore, and the
whole of the scattered white com
h munity of the island were at liberty
t to retire tranquilly to rest. More
n over, it seemed as if within the
funeral urn of Chai-Hung lay the
key to Monica’s happiness,
a He rose presently and, lifting the
p jar from its perch, turned it round
- and round in his hands. The thing
- was a masterpiece of Oriciftal crafty
- manship, and the lettering that he
o had believed to be painted on the
bronze surface—was inlaid, a process
e that must have taken years of pa
-1 tient toil to accomplish. And yet
o Chai-Hung had only been dead for a
I. matter of days! He found himself
- wondering what the inscription irn
s plied, and wishing that Chinese
ningten—who could have speedily
,1 enlightened him—had chosen any
s other time but this to be away. For
some reason or other, he began to
t, feel dissatisfied with the way in
” Which the trophy had cpme .into his
possession. It was a perfectly ,na
l tural sequence of
e and perhaps it was that which wor
e ried him most.
Hewitt flicked the ash from his
t cigar. Turning abruptly, he saw
- Monica standing* in'tHc' doorway. She
was wearing tWi r, WWhc kimono as
y when Pennington had surprised them
i. in the office, and the Siamese kitten
was tucked snugly under one arm. It
seemed to the Commissioner that she
1 was unusually pale and there were
dark Tines under her eyes that he
s not had noticed before.
(Continued in Our .Next Issue)
INCORPORATIONS
1 Articles of incorporation filed with”
3 the Secretary of State follow:
1 Tappen Intermediate Credit Co.,
i Tappen; loans; capital stock $10,000;
t tors, D. D. McKee, E. H.
s Koehler, E. Kleiter Jr., all of
> Trustee Holding Company, Bottiiv*
L eau; capital stock $100,000; general
* finance; incorporators, F. W. Cathro,
* W. H. Mclntosh, R. R. Smith, Bottin
eau.
1 The Divide County Credit Com
pany, Qrosby; capital stock $10,000;
j incorporators, E. M. Rosseau, R. L. v
, Rosseau, J. C. Rosseau, Crosby; C.
' C. Rosseau, V. M. Rosseau, Minnea
polis.
[ (Manvel Elevator Company, Manvel;
, capital stpek $25,000; incorporators,
- J. P. Poupore, Grand Forks; Geo.
Udenby and C. E. Colosky, Manvel. r
C. H. Reimers and Sons, CarAng
- ton; merchandise; capital stock, $25,-
» 000; incorporators, C. H. Reimers, D.
H. Reimers, E. T. Reimers, Carring
i ton. ;
IRSseehl
c*» BISMARCK. NORTH DAKOTA %»
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