Newspaper Page Text
Fined for Running Into Malm Car. Jmms Stanley, of Wilton, N. D., arrested Wednesday, charged with reckless driving. He was driv ing in a reckless manner south of the city and attempted to pass a car driv en by Mrs. 0. A. Malm, when the two machines collided. Stanley was on the wrsng side of the road. He pleaded gvilty before Judge Murray wno fined •im $10.00 jwfth $9.00 costs, which were paid. Mrs. E. C. Malm was rid ing with Mrs. 0. A. Malm, and both women were painfully bruised. The car was smashed considerably. IN FLANDERS' FIELDS. 4 S •$ S 8 (The poem appearing below was taken from The Journal of the Am erican Meaicar Association. The writer, Captain John McOrae, after ward a lieutenant-colonel, was attach ed to the Canadian Medical service in Does Your Life Work Mean Anything to You? You farmers who have worked hard—and no one works harder, to get tog-ether your property, what does it mean to you Are you enjoying all the comforts of life, is your home comfortable and furnished with modern conveniences or are you just getting along any old way? You owe it to your family and yourself to have a comfortable home with all the modern conveniences you can afford. You have worked hard and now you deserve a little pleasure by being able to enjoy the coming long, cold winter days in a well furnished home. The McCoy Furniture Co. make a specialty of the farm and ranch business this firm enjoys a larger business among the farmers and ranchers than any other store of its kind in North Dakota. Good sensible furniture, the kind that is inexpensive and yet will be as good twenty years from now as it is today, is the kind of household fur nishings you will find at this store. McCOY FURNITURE CO. 225-228-228-231 So. Main Street MINOT, NO. DAK. France, and had a most promising fu ture. He died, however, of pneumon ia, in France, February 28, 1918. The poem has been widely copied by the press thruout the English speaking W'.:nd. The poem follows: In Flanders' Fields. In Flanders' fields the poppios blow Between the crosses, row on row, That mark our place, and in the sky The larks still bravely singing fly. Scarce heard amidst the guns below. We are the dead. Short days ago Manufacturers Surplus Tube and Tire Co. 25 W. Central Avenue Regular My Regular -My Price Price Price Price 30x3 $15.20 $11.90 34x4 _$32.90 $26.25 30x3 19.60 15.70 35x4 34.75 26.95 32x3± 22.95 19.15 36x4 35.50 28.00 31x4 30.25 24.25 34x4£. 43.90 35.15 32x4 30.75 24.95 35x4£. 46.25 37.35 33x4 32.00 25.70 36x4£. 46.90 Have a Few Seconds in Non -Skids Closing Out Prices 30x3 Non Skids _$ 9.90 32x4 Non Skids -$21.00 j.. 14.90 33x4 Non Skids 22.00 34x4 Non Skids $23.00 Ford Bumpers, only feiw left $2.50 Each Spark Plugs, regular price, $1.00—_ 40c Each Spark Plug Pumps, regular price, $10, my price. ___ $3.50 Each Sun-Ray Lense, all siz^s $1.80 Job-lot'of Tubes, all sizes, while they last $1.50 Buy now and save 25% and tnat big war tax the government in* tends to put on all tires and besides, Mr. Auto Owner, don't forget the Manufacturers in 60 days, will not be able to supply all the tires needed, so at these prices you had better put in your tire supply. Read very carefully, because this lasts only until the government war tax goes into effect. Every tire on this sale is guaranteed for 4,000 miles and will be adjusted on that basis. Mail Orders Filled Same Day Received THE LAST WEEK We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, Loved and were loved and now we lie In Flanders' fields. Take up our quarrel with the foe, 'io you from falling hands we throw The torch—be yours to hold it high. If ye break faith with us who die, We shall not sleep though poppies grow In Flanders' fields. Dr. Charles MacLachlan, a New Rockford practitioner of medicine, a brother-in-law of Atty.* F. B. Lam bert of Minot, in response to the ap peal of the martyred Lieut.-Col. Mc Crae, has composed a reply. Both writers were graduates of the same medical college and both were natives of Wellington county, Ontario, Can. The reply follows: A Memorial lUnpawe to Lieutenant- Colonel MeCrae and the Cause on Flinltn' Fields. While poppies blow on Flanders' sward, The Maple Leaf mourns her war bard His far-flung torch lights Freedom's plea To watchful eyes beyond the sea. The lark in joyous note acclaims The Eagle's hosts,—their pledged aims Attune with thine, that Peace may! reign On Flanders' fields. While prairie slopes their fullness yield, While Southern sun gilds cotton field While ingots coined by Mother Earth!' Of copper, steel, and coal, give birth To armored ships that breast the leaj To myriad wasps of air and sea, From Freedom's heai*th their answer bear To Flanders' fields. From out New England's forest shade, From coral reef and Everglade, From southwest mesa's dazzling sweep Where Rockies' peaks lone vigils keep, From glacier's chill to southern charm, From inland valley, city, farm, A hundred million hearts combine To bring thee peace or share thy shrine On Flanders' fields. From Porto Rica's sea-girt shore Where Cuba Libre grieves no more, From far Hawaii's Isles of Pest, Where Sitka guards Alaska's breast Spring loyal hearts and outstretched hands Bearing the treasures of their lands To aid the cause and prove their zeal "For Cod and our Right" on Flander'sj fields. Rest, sacred dead, where poppies! Blow, Of broken faith, or dimmed torch I glow, 'We have no ken. May restful sleep be ours with thine When Freedom's flag enfolds thy shrine— With Brotherhood of Man, divine, On Flanders' fields. I 37.80 THE TRUE FRIEND BY WALTER J. DELANEY. 4M.ll|]HlfUlnilw.milllMiiti|iiiiliilliiiltliinimihllHiMiiiitrinimiiii (Copyright, l.y Wc-sii •rn Ninxpnpfr I'nlon.) He was humble to tin* point of sub serviency—a stranger in a strange land, banished, odd-appearing and ill most of the time. Wo Tsln felt the abnormal environment and allowed It to crush him. He seemed to cherish it as a blessing and a mercy that fate had awarded him the friendship of two noble souls, for Into that it grow, despite their widely separated social status. Wade Burton was a young and struggling physician and Wo Tsin was a refugee from the Samoan Islands. He looked neither kingly nor opu lent the day he drifted into Spring vllle In rags, fagged out, dusty and footsore from long travel. It was his good fortune to rest on the doorstep of the home of John Merle. He dozed there, hungry as he was. Alinn Merle, coming out of the house with a dish hi her hand, was somewhat startled at a sight of the forlorn figure. He was swarthy and almond-eyed, there was a certain oriental suggestion. Alma stole silently past the slnm berer and proceeded to gather the dish full of rfpe, luscious berries. She re entered the house by the kitchen door, to add a palatable dessert to the lunch she had prepared for herself. On a plate upon the little corner table she set forth a dainty but ample variety of edibles, carried a liasln of water, a towel and some soap to an ontslde bench, and went around to the front of the house again. The stranger roused up at lier foot steps. "I am sorry." he stammered with difficulty gaining his feet. "I was very tired." "And hungry?" Intimated Alma, sympathizing. "Come, you are my guest." The plaintive-eyed refugee viewed her with a sort of mute adoration as she sat opposite him at the table, the generous, welcoming hostess complete. In struggling, faulty words he made her clearly aware of his situation. "I loved a woman who betrayed me, plotted with an enemy, and was ban ished—I, a king!" he narrated. "It is death to go back, but still I am of the old proud race. I have learned your language. I can make coco nut ornaments, much valued, when I am well, but I have iieen ill and poor and homeless for a long time." "You shall be so no longer, I am sure," encouraged Alma. "When my brother comes liome he will surely feel helpful toward yon." And this was how it was that Wo Tsin, working about the place and at the little vil lage store Walter Merle operated, earned a quiet, comfortable harbor for his derelict spirit. He found a new friend In Wade Bur ton. The fiance of pretty Alma was a young doctor, just graduated and commencing life with only patients and courage as liis capital. Wade took sufficient interest in Alma's pensioner to start him on the way to health, and the responsive Wo Tsin was duly grateful. One day Wo was pottering about the garden while Alma and Wade were seated on the porch. He lingered with an intelligent and thoughtful face. "I see a long, arduous struggle to wards getting on my feet here." Wade was saying. "I fear my only resource is to establish myself in the city." "But that would part us!" remon strated Alma sorrowfully. "It may have to be," answered Wade. "Old Doctor Kline has offered his practice for sale." "Is the price high?" asked Alma. "Three thousand dollars, and I have less than three hundred," was the de sponding reply. Next day Wo Tsin vanished. He had left a brief note. "Dear Little Missy," it ran "for your sake and that of my good friend, Mr. Burton, I am gone. Some day I may return. The good fortune will come to you—be happy." At the end of that week a town law yer came»to Wade. He handed him a signed document from Doctor Kline, transferring to him his practice. "It is bought and paid for by a friend whose name I nm not at liberty to disclose," said the attorney, and left "Wade in wonderment. Two months later Wo Tsin reap peared. Accompanying him was a shrewd-faced little man, whose keen eyes proclaimed .the sharp bargainer. "Doctor Burton," he said, "I have a Strange story to tell. This friend of yours came to me in the city, asking for a loan of $3,000. I am a pawn broker. He showed me, under his clothing, rigidly riveted about his waist, a gold band studded with pre cious gems. It seems this is an in signia of his former kingship, from which he must never part, according to the tenets of his people. He offered to pawn himself, and It." "Because of love for the missy and her friend," murmured Wo Tsin, with a rapt look at both. "A week ago," proceeded the money loaner, "he saved the life of my little family and my wealth by outwitting a murderous burglar. He is happiest hWe. He says he can work out the debt." "Never!" cried Barton, strangely stirred. "I will become security for It. Blessed Wo Tsin! you are more than a king you are the truest man I ever knew!" And time repaid the noble debt, and Wo Tsln no more longed for the empty bauble of kingly pride, as little children grew up in the happy house hold and loved and reverenced him as one of the family. THE PRODIGAL SON j!j By. AUGUSTUS G. SHERWIN. I '^i»nwnBiiiiinmHwnniniiiti'innmni»mitniiimtiiHiiintnnMiiniin (Copyright, u»i8, i»y Western Newspaper Union.) He was a man of whims and impulse apparently, for he wns almost child ishly engrossed In viewing a pretty picture, of which a bright, attractive looking girl was the center. She wm Just inside the fence of a clover field and was daintily picking the lucions red tops. Then she would go to the separating barbed wire fence, reaeh through and pet, converse with and feed a white-speckled calf, plump, friendly and spotless of grime or brier. "I've an idea—the fatted calf!" abruptly chuckled the onlooker. "Al most as pretty as the girl," and he ap proached the fence near which Hilda Strong stood. "Part of the big farm a bit back where they're selling out?" he asked. The girl, quite startled, flushed and fluttered and gave a confused assent. "I'll take that calf if the figure Is right," resumed the stranger. "But Whitey is not for sale," an nounced Hilda. "She does not belong to the farm. Mr. Warren gave her to me when she was the tiniest little thing and I have raised her." "You wouldn't sell her, then?" "Oh, no! Never! That Is—unless I had to. And maybe that may come," said Hilda, a mournful shadow cross ing her pretty face. "ifr. Warren Is breaking up and I must look for a new liome. I am an orphan and have only a few distant relatives." Her artlessness charmed Bart Mil ler and Irt'r simple ways aroused his sympathy and interest. "Heigho lie uttered "We're pretty near of a kind. I've been an orphan myself for ten years—that is, I ran away from home and haven't seen fa ther or mother since." "Oh, dear! how could you stay away from them?" eluded Hilda. "Well, I got going careless and rough and bad. Then in trouble, and finally I settled down to life among the hard est crowd a ranch ever knew. It was cards, drink and fighting most of the time." Hilda had shrunk a little at the con fession. "You don't look very careless, and rough, and bad," she said. He laughed quite boisterously at her In nocence. "I'm not—now. That's why I'm going back home." "Oh, are youV Are you?" cried Hil da, s]nightly. "How glad your folks will be to see you!" "Father is dead," said Bart, "but mother is living, and I've sort of spied out the land before I ventured to let her know I was around. As I said, I was a reckless one until a year ago. I had gone to prospecting. Bad as ever, I (rained with a ha I'd crowd. One day I took a drop too much, and a tum ble. I went into a pit—it must have been over fifty feet. How I escaped being killed I couldn't reckon out. When I landed it was on a soft bed of sand—on my knees." He spoke the last words solemnly. A .strange, spiritual expression came into his eyes and illumined his face, until Iliida was fascinated in an in tense, hypnotic way.. "Yes, on my knees," repeated Bart. "There I was—saved by the Almighty. I was, as I had been at my mother's side way back in childhood. All my bad life flashed upon me. The words of 'Now 1 lay me down to sleep' drift ed dreamily through my mind. I couldn't stir for over an hour. All the time some new spirit seemed to come over me. Young lady, I crawled out of that pit weak and broken—a new man." "Oh, how glad your dear old mother will lie when you tell her all this!" cried Hilda. "With good oeliavior came good luck," went on Bart tersely. "I struck a rich mine. I saved, instead of squandering. I'm going home a pretty rich man, and my money will do some good, for I found my mother poor and neglected. I'm still queer in my no tions, young lady. I know what moth er will say when she sees me coming back." "What?" urged Hilda breathlessly, as absorbed as though listening to some entrancing fairy story. "Well, mother is biblical, and it would be just like her to say, in her gentle, kindly, forgiving way: 'Prodi gal son, you are welcome, and for you shall be killed the fatted calf.' But, you see, poor old soul she has no fatted ca'f. And your Whitey struck my fancy. And I thought I'd buy her, lead her to the old home—it's only ten miles across the country—and say, 'Mother, I've brought the fatted calf, and a bag of gold, and my worthless self, all at once back home.'" "Oh, she won't think you worth less! And what a grand man you have been to stop—stop being rough and careless, and all that, and thinking so much of your dear old mother! And what a blessing you will be to'her, and I'm so glad I met you, for you can take Whitey, and you're welcome to her, and it's all like some beautiful story," and, overcome by her emotions, Hilda broke down in tears. It was with a pretty ribbon tied around her neck that Whitey was led away from her devoted young mis tress. Hilda had urged him to tell her the end of the charming story he, she, the. old mother and Whitey were acting out. "Mother says she must see you reported Bart two days later. "Hilda, we haven't known each other very long, but long enough for me to know that I love you. and want you to help me make mother happy."