The Daily Transcript (Norman, Okla.), Vol. 4, No. 178, Ed. 1 Saturday, February 3, 1917 Page: 2 of 4
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THE NOR MAN DAILY TRANSCRIPT
OUR FAMILY STORY PAGE
6y RANDALL PARRI5H
A Romance of Early Days,
in the Middle West
Author of "Keith of the Border,""My Lady I
of Doubt," "The Maid of the Forest," etc. I
OPVmCHJVY <. H,
Adele ia Chesnayne. a belle of New
France, Is Among conspirators at her un-
cle a house. CuBnlon, the t'onimlsnalre.
nas enlisted her Uncle Chevet's fild
attains t La Salle. D'Artlgny, La Salle'n
friend, offers his services us KUlde to Chs-
slon s party on the Journey to the wilder-
ness The uncle Informs Adele that he
has betrothed her to Cusslon and forbids
,'° 8ee D'Artlgny again. In Quebec
Adele visits her friend. Sister Celeste,
ut .hr,nKs D'ArtlKny to her. She tells
him her story ahd he vows to release her
from the bargain with CasHlon. D'Artlg-
ny leaves promising to see her nt the
dance. Casslon escorts Adele to the hall.
She meets the governor, La Harre. and
h*ars him warn the commlssalrt? against
D Artlgny. D'Artlgny's ticket to the hall
has been recalled, but he Rains entrance
by the window. Adele Informs him of the
governor's words to Casslon. For her
eavesdropping at the ball Adele Is ordered
by the governor to marry Casslon at once
and to accompany him to the Illinois
country. lie summons Chevet and directs
that he atttend them on the Journey. They
leave In the boats. Adele's future depend-
ing on the decision of D'Artlgny whom
she now knows she loves. CaHslon and
D Artlgny have words. Uncle Chevet for
the first time hears that his niece Ib an
heiress, and begins to suspect Casslon'■
motives. Adele refuses to permit her hus-
band to share her sleeping quarters.
Chevet agreen to help her. She talks se-
cretly to D'Artlgny, but he declines to
give he*- active a!<! against her husband
J Bad luck frequently comes In J
• bunches. Adele has been buf- e
J feted by fate for months, nay for J
• several years. In this fight •
J against Commissaire Casslon J
• she needs dlrely every aid she •
J can muster, yet one after Hn- 2
• other her sources of help fall •
J away. This is a thrilling install- «
• ment, which describes how she •
J receives two serious shocks. •
J One of them blackens her love J
• affair. The other frightens her. •
Cassion finds his wife alone on the
hill and discovers a man's footprints.
He accuses her angrily.
"The print is fresh, not ancient, and
none of the men from my camp have
come this way."
He strode forward across the nar-
row opeu space and disappeared Into
the fringe of trees bordering the edge
of the bluff. It would have been easy
for me to depart, to escape to the se-
curity of the tent below, but curiosity
held me motionless. I knew what he
would discover, aud preferred to face
the consequences where I was free to
answer him face to face. I wished
him to be suspicious, to feel that he
had a rival; I would fan his Jealousy
to the very danger point Nor had I
long to wait Forth from the shade
of the trees be burst and came toward
me, his face white, his eyes blazing.
" 'Tls the fellow I thought," he burst
forth, "and he went down the face of
the bluff yonder. So you dared to have
tryst with him?"
"With whom, monsieur?"
"D'Artlgny, the youug fool! Do you
think me blind? Did I not know you
were together in Quebec? What are
you laughing at?"
L "I was not laughing, monsieur. Yonr
ridiculous charge does not amuse me.
I am a woman; you Insult me; I am
your wife: you charge me with indis-
cretion. If you ihlnk to win me with
such cowardly insinuations yon know
little of my nature. I will not talk
with you, nor discuss the matter. 1
return to the cam'p."
His hands clinched as though he
had the throat of an enemy between
them, but angry as he was, some
vague doubt restrained him.
"Mon dleu! I'll flght the dog!"
"D'Artlgny. you mean? 'Tls his
trade. I hear, and he's good at It"
"Bah' a bungler of the woods. I
doubt If he ever crossed blades with
a swordsman. But mark you this,
madame. the lad feels my steel if ever
you so much as speak to him again."
There was contempt In my eyes, nor
did 1 strive to disguise it
"Am I your wife, monsieur, or your
"My wife, and I know how to hold
you! Mon dleu! but you shall learn
that lesson. I vas a fool to ever yl?e
the brat plac#v <• the boats. La Barre
warued me that he would make trou-
ble. Now I tell you what will occur
If you play false with me."
"You may spare your threats—they
weigh nothing. The Sleur d'Artl^uy
Is my friend, and I shall address him
when It pleases me. With whatever
quarrel may arise between you I have
do Interest i#et that suffice, aud now
I bid r~'* «oo4 bight, monsieur."
He made no effort to halt me, nor
to follow, ami I made my way dowfe
the darkening path, without so much
as turning my head to observe his
movements. It was almost like a play
to me. and I was reckless of the con
sequences. Intent only on my purpose.
In the early dawu we broke camp
as usual, except that chosen boatmen
guided the emptied canoes through the
rapids, while the others of the party
made portage along the rough shore.
In the smooth water above we all em-
barked again, and won slow way
against the current. The advance com-
pany had departed before our arrival,
nor did I again obtain glimpse of
D'Artlgny for many days.
I would not say that Casslon pur
posely kept us apart, for the arrange-
ment might have been the same had
I not been of the party, yet the only
communication between the two divi-
sions occurred when some messenger
brought back warning of dangerous
water ahead. Usually this messenger
was an Indian, but once D'Artlgny
himself came and guided our canoes
through a torrent of white, raging wa-
ter, amid a maze of murderous rocks.
During these days and weeks Casslon
treated me with consideration and out-
ward respect Not that he failed to
talk freely, and to boast of his ex-
ploits and adventures, yet he refrained
from laying hand on me, nor did he
once refer to the Incident of the bluff.
Nor was the Journey lacking lu in-
terest or adventure. Never shall 1
forget the charm of those days and
nights, amid which we made slow and
toilsome passage through the desolate
wilderness, ever gaining new leagues
to the westward. Only twice In weeks
did we encounter human beings—once
a camp of Indians on the shore of a
lake, aud once a Capuchin monk, alone
but for a single voyageur as com-
panion, passed us upon the river. And
when, at last, we made the long por-
tage, tramping through the dark for-
est aisles, bearing on our shoulders
heavy loads, scarcely able to see the
sun even at midday through the leafy
screen of leaves, and came forth at
twilight on the shores of the mighty
lake, no words can express the rap-
tures with which I stood and gazed
across that expanse of heaving, rest-
less water. The men launched their
canoes upon the surface and made
camp In the edge of the forest, but
I could not move, could not restrain
my eyes, until darkness descended and
left all before me a void.
It was scarcely more than daybreak
when we broke camp and headed our
canoes out Into the lake. With the
dawn, and the glint of sunlight over
the waters, much of my dread depart-
ed. and I could appreciate the wild
song of delight with which our Indian
paddlers bent to their work. The
sharp-pro wed canoes swept through
the waters swiftly, no longer battling
against a current, and the shore line
ever In view was fascinating in Its
green foliage. We kept close to the
northern shore, aud soon found pas
sage amid numerous Islands, forest
covered, but with high, rocky outlines.
For four days we coasted thus, never
out of sight of shore, and usually with
Islands between us and the main body
of water. In all that time we had no
sign of man—not even a wisp of
smoke, nor heard the crack of distant
rifle. About us extended loneliness
and desolation, great waters never
still, vast forests grim and somber,
tall, menacing rocks, bright-colored In
As last we left the chain of Islands
behind, and one mornlug struck out
from the shore Into the waste of wa-
ters, the prows of the canoes turned
westward, the steersman guiding our
course by the sun. For several hours
we were beyond view of land, with
naught to rest the eye upon save the
gray sea, and then, when it was nearly
night, we reached the shore and
beached our canoes at St. Ignace.
So much had been said of St Ignace,
and so long bad the name been fa-
miliar throughout New France, that
my first view of the place brought
me bitter disappointment
The miserable little village was upon
a point of land, originally covered with
heavy growth of forest A bit of this
had been rudely cut the rotting
stumps still standing, and from the
timber a dozen rough log houses had
been constructed facing the lake. A
few rod* back, on slightly higher land,
was a log chapel and a bouse, some-
what more pretentious than the others,
In which the priests lodged. The whole
aspect of the place was peculiarly
desolate and depressing, facing that
vast waste of water, the black forest
shadows behind, and those rotting
stumps in the foreground.
Nor was our welcome one to rrnke
the heart rejoice. Scarce a dozen per-
sous gathered at the beach to aid us
In making landing, rough engages
mostly, and not among them all a face
familiar. It was only later, when
two priests from the mission came
hurrying forward, that we were greet-
ed by cordial speech. These Invited a
few of us to become guests at the
mission house, aud assigned the re-
mainder of our party to vacant huts.
Casslon, Chevet and Pere Alloues
accompanied me as I walked beside a
young priest up the beaten path, but
D'Artlgny was left behind with the
men. I overheard Casslon order him
to remain, but he added some word
In lower voice, which brought a tlush
of anger Into the younger man's face,
although he merely turned on his heel
We remained at St Ignace three
days, busily engaged In repairing our
canoes and rendering them tit for the
long voyage yet before us. From this
point we were to venture on treacher-
ous waters, as yet scarcely explored,
the shores Inhabited by savage, un-
known tribes, with not a white man
In all the long distance from Green
Bay to the Chicago portage. Once I
got out the map and traced the dis-
tance, feeling sick at heart as I thus
resized more clearly the weary jour-
Those were dull, lonely days I
passed In the desolate mission house,
while the others were busy at their
various tasks. Only at night time, or
as they straggled lu to their meals, did
I see anyone but Pere Alloues. who
was always close at hand, a silent
shadow from whose presence I could
not escape. I visited the priest's gar-
den. climbed the rocks overlooking
the water and eveu ventured Into the
dark forest, but he was ever beside
me, suave but Insistent on doing his
master's will. The only glimpse I had
of D'Artlgny was at a distance, for
not once did he approach the mission
house. So I was glad enough when
the canoes were ready, and all prep-
arations made for departure.
Yet we were not destined to escape
thus easily from St Ignace. Of what
occurred I must write as It happened
to me then, and not as Its full signi-
ficance became later clear to my un-
derstanding. It was after nightfall
when Casslon returned to the mission
house. The lights were burning on
the table, and the three priests were
rather impatiently waiting their even-
ing meal, occasionally exchanging
brief sentences, or peering out through
the open window toward the dark
Casslon came In alone, yet I ob-
served nothing strange about his ap-
pearance, except that he failed to
greet me with the usual attempt at
gallantry, although his sharp eyes
swept our faces as he closed the door,
and stared about the room.
"What! not eaten yet?" he ex-
claimed. "I anticipated my fate to
be a lonely meal, for the rascals
worked like snails, and I would not
leave them rest until all was finished.
Faith, the odor Is appetizing, and 1 am
hungry as a bear."
The younger priest waved his hand
to the servant yet asked softly:
"Mousleur Chevet —he Is delayed
"He will sup with his men tonight,"
returned Casslon shortly, seating him-
self on the bench. "The sergeant
keeps guard of the canoes, and Chevet
will be useful with those off duty."
The man ate as though nearly fam-
ished, his ready tongue unusually si-
lent, and at the conclusion of the meal,
appeared so fatigued that I made early
exeflse to withdraw so he might rest
In comfort climbing the ladder In one
corner to my own bed beueath the
eaves. This apartment, whose only
advantage was privacy, was no more
than a narrow space between the slop-
ing rafters of the roof, unfurnished,
but with a small window In the end.
closed by a wooden shutter. A parti-
tion of axe-hewn planks divided this
attic into two compartments, thus com-
posing the priests' sleeping chambers.
\\ hile I was there they both occupied
the one to the south, Casslon, Chevet
and Pere Allouez resting In the main
As I lowered the trap In the floor,
shutting out the murmur of voices, 1
was conscious of no desire to sleep,
my mind fcuslly occupied with possi-
bilities of the morrow. I opened the
window and seated myself on the
floor gazing out at the night Below
extended the priests' garden, and be-
yond the dark gloom of forest depths.
The way of egress was easy—a mere
step to the flat roof of the kitchen,
the dovetailed logs of which afforded
a ladder to the ground. I had no ob-
ject In such adventure, but a restless
Impulse urged me, and, almost before
I realized my action, I was upon the
ground. Avoiding the gleam of light
which streamed from the open win-
dow of the room below, I crossed the
garden and reached the path leading
downward to the shore. From this
point I could perceive the wide sweep
of water, showing silvery in the dim
moonlight, aud detect the darker rim
of the land. There was fire on the
point below the huts, and Its red glare
nfforded glimpses of the canoes—mere
blurred outlines—and occasionally the
figure of a man, only recognizable as
I was still staring at this dim pic-
ture when some noise, other than the
wind, startled me and I drew silently
hack behind a great stuuip to avoid
discovery. My thought was that some-
one had left the mission house—Cas-
slon perhaps with final orders to those
on the beach—but a moment later I
realized my mistake, yet only crouched
lower In the shadow—n man was ad-
vancing from the black concealment
of the woods aud crossing the opeu
He moved cautiously, yet boldly
enough, and his movements were not
those of an Indian, although the low
hushes betweW us aud the house
shadow, prevented my distinguishing
more than his mere outline. It was
only when he lifted Ills head Into the
gleam of light, and took hasty survey
through the window of the sceue with-
in, that I recognized the face of
D'Artlgny. He lingered scarcely a
moment, evidently satisfied with what
he saw, and then drew silently back,
hesitating a brief space, as though de-
bating his next movement
I waited breathless, wondering what
his purpose could be. half lucllned to
Intercept aud question him. Was he
seeking to serve my cause? to learn
the truth of my relationship with Cas-
slon? or did he have some other ob-
ject, some personal feud In which he
sought revenge? The first thought
sent the warm blood leaping through
my veins; the second left me shiverlug
as If with sudden chill.
Even as I stood, hesitating, uncer-
tain, he turned and retraced his steps
along the same path of his approach,
passing me uot ten steps away and
vanishing into the wood. I thought
he paused at the edge and bent down,
yet before I found voice or determin-
ation to stop him, be had disappeared.
My courage returned, spurred by cur-
iosity. Why should he take so round-
about a way to reach the shore? What
was that black, shapeless tiling he had
paused to exainihe? I could see some-
thing there, dark and motionless,
though to my eyes no more than a
I ventured toward it creeping be-
hind the bushes bordering the path,
conscious of an odd fear as I drew
closer. Yet It was not until I emerged
from the fringe of shrubbery that even
the faintest conception of what the
object was I saw occurred to me.
Then I stopped, frozen by horror, for
I confronted a dead body.
For an instant I could not utter a
sound or move a muscle of my body.
My hands clung convulsively to a
nearby branch, thus supporting me
erect In spite of trembling limbs and
I stared at the gruesome object,
black and almost shapeless in the
moonlight Only part of the trunk
was revealed, the lower portion con-
cealed by bushes, yet I could no longer
doubt It was a man's body—a large,
heavily built man, his hat still crushed
on his head, but with face turned
What courage overcame my horror
and urged me forward I cannot tell;
I seemed Impelled by some power not
my own, a vague fear of recognition
tugging at my heart I crept nearer,
almost Inch by Inch, trembling at
every noise, dreading to discover the
truth. At last I could perceive the
ghastly features—the dead man was
I nerved myself to the effort and
turned the body sufficiently to enable
me to discover the wound—he had
been pierced by a knife from behind;
had fallen, no doubt, without uttering
a cry, dead ere he struck the ground.
Then It was murder, foul murder, a
blow In the back. Why had the deed
been done? What spirit of revenge,
of hatred, of fear, could have led to
such an act? I got again to my feet,
staring about through the weird moon-
light every nerve throbbing, as I
thought to grip the fact and find Its
cause. Slowly I drew back, shrinking
In growing terror from the corpse,
until I was safely In the priest's gar-
den. There I paused Irresolute, my
dazed, benumbed brain beginning to
grasp the situation and assert Itself.
The Murder of Chevet
Who had killed him? What should
I do? These were the two questions
haunting my mind, and becoming more
and more Insistent The light still
burned In the mission house, and I
could picture the scene within — the
three priests reading, or talking softly
to each other, and Cassion asleep on
his bench In the corner, wearied with
I could not understand, could not
Imagine a cause, and yet the assassin
must have been D'Artlgny. How else
could I account for his presence there
in the night his effortc at conceal-
ment his bending over the dead body,
and then hurrying away without
sounding an alarm. The evidence
against the man seemed conclusive,
end jrat I would not condemn, Kbera
might be other reason# for hf* #V
lence. for his secret presence, and if
I rushed into the house, proclaiming
my discovery and confessing what I
had seen, he would be left without
Shrinking, shuddering at every
shadow, at every sound, my nerves
throbbing with agony, I managed to
drag ray body up the logs, and In
through the window. I was safe there,
but there was no banishing from mem-
ory what I had seen—what I knew
lay yonder In the wood shadow. I
sank to the floor, clutching the sill, my
eyes staring through the moonlight
Once I thought I saw a man's Indis-
tinct figure move across an open space,
and once I heard voices far away.
I do not know that I was called,
yet when I awoke a faint light pro-
claiming the dawn was In the iky,
and sounds of activity reached my
ears from the room below. I felt tired
and cramped from my unnatural posi-
tion, but hastened to Join the others.
1 he morning meal was already on the
table, and we ate as usual, no one
mentioning Chevet thus proving the
body had uot been discovered.* I could
scarcely choke the food down, antici-
pating every Instant the sounding of
an alarm. Casslon hurried, excited, no
doubt by the prospect of getting away
on our Journey, but seemed In excel-
lent humor. Pushing back the box on
which he sat he buckled his pistol belt,
seized his hat aud strode to the door.
"We depart at once1," he proclaimed
briefly. "So I will leave you here to
bring the lady."
Pere Allouez, still busily engaged,
murmured some Indistinct reply aud
Casslon's eyes met mine.
"You look pale and weary this morn-
ing," he said. "Not fear of the voy-
age, I hope?"
"No, monsieur," I managed to an-
swer quietly. "I slept ill, but shall be
better presently — shall I bear my
blaLkets to the boats?"
"Tue servant will see to that, only
let there be as little delay as possible.
Ah! here comes a messenger from
below—what is It my man?"
The fellow, one of the soldiers whose
face I did not recall, halted In the
open door, gasping for breath, his eyes
roving about the room.
"He Is dead—the big man." he stam-
mered. "He Is there by the woods.
"The big man—dead!" Casslon drew
back, as though struck a blow. "What
big man? Whom do you mean?'
"The one In the second canoe, moi>-
sleur; the one who roared."
"Chevet? Hugo Chevet? What has
happened to him? Come, speak up, or
I'll slit your tongue!"
The man gulped, gripping the door
with one hand, the other pointing out-
He Is there, monsieur, beyond ths
trail, at the edge of the wood. I saw
him with his face turned up — Mon
dleu! so white; I dare not touch him,
but there was blood where a knife
had entered his back."
All were on their feet their faces
picturing the sudden horror, yet Cas-
slon was first to recover his wits, and
lead the way without Grasping the
soldier's arm and bidding him show
where the, body lay, he thrust him
through the door. I lingered behind
shrinking from being again compelled
to view the sight of the dead man,
yet unable to keep entirely away. Cas-
slon stopped, looking down at the ob-
ject on the grass, but made no effort
to touch It with his hands. The sol-
dier bent and rolled the body over, and
one of the priests felt In the pockets
of the Jacket, bringing forth a paper
or two. Casslon took these, gripping
them In his fingers, his face appearing
gray in the early light
"Mon dleu! the man has been mur-
dered," he exclaimed, "a dastard blow
in the back. Look about and see If
you find a knife. Had he quarrel with
The soldier straightened up.
"No, monsieur; I heard of none,
though he was often rough and harsh
of tongue to the men. Ah! now I re-
call, he had words with Sleur d'Artl-
gny on the beach at dusk. I know not
the cause, yet the younger man left
him angrily and passed by where I
stood, with his hands clinched."
"D'Artlgny, hey!" Casslon's voice
had a ring of pleasure In It "Ay! he
Is a hothead. Know you where the
young cock Is now?"
'He, with the chief, left an hoar
ago. Was It not your order, mon-
Casslon made a swift gesture, but
what it might signify I could not de-
termine, as his face was turned away.
A moment there was silence, as he
shaded his eyes and peered out across
Street Railway Lines Must Keep Nickels Moving
Ml.W Tonic. If die nickels taken for fares on the traction lines of thl§
city were not collected at the end of each day and put Into circulation
again at once, New Yorkers would find that in two or three days at most
there would not be a nickel in the
city available to pay carfare or buy a
(oaf of bread. This remark was made
oy an official of the Interboroucii Ele-
Every visitor knows of the hun-
oreds of thousands of people who rush
hither and thither every day on ele-
vated and subway trains. But few
know what the stream of small change
flowing into the ticket offices in a
never-ceasing stream umounts to In
24 hours, nor how this money is col-
lected. Every night shortly after midnight the bank on wheels starts on its'
round of collecting the nickels from the subway and elevated stations. This
bunk on wheels is a curious car. One end looks like a bank. There are
screens, counters, pigeonholes and partitions used while paying off the sub-
way employees. At the other end are the quarters of the collectors. As soon
as the car arrives at the station the agent runs out of the ticket booth,
shoves through the window of the car two canvas bags of cash, one day and
the other night receipts.
It takes about five hours for the bank car to make the trip on the sub-
way and elevated. When It is completed, over $100,000 in nickels, dimes and
quarters and bills are reudy for the accountunts to paw over and fix up in
bags for the banks.
Mondays are the best days on the subway and elevated. The receipts
on those du.vs Jump about ten thousand above the other days. This Increase
Is due to the women shoppers, who have had time to read in the Sunday
papdrs the announcements of alluring bargains In the shops, and rush off the
first thing Monday morning to buy them.
City Efficiency Reducing Dayton's Death Rate
IVVYTOX, 0.—The telephone In the office of Henry M. Watte, Dayton's city
manager, rings. Wnite answers it. "My little boy came home from school
today with a bad sore throat-and we're afraid it's diphtheria," says a Dayton
mother. "Will you send one of your
doctors and nurses out to see
"Certainly," says Waite.
Wulte telephones his division of
health, and within a few minutea the
city government has taken churge of
An average of 1,000 persons a
month In Dnyton either telephone or
call at the office of their city manager
to tell their troubles.
If the commission manager gov-
ernment in Dayton Is working wonders in Increased efficiency and economy
In every department, it Is doing still greater wonders ulong social-service lines.
What is a human life worth? A thousand dollars? Then the commission
manager plan of government is saving nearly $300,000 n year in human lives.
In 1013 bad food, poor sanitation, unskillful care of babies, and indifferent
medical inspection of schoolchildren, had combined with other causes to give
the city a death rate of 15.7 per thousand.
Wulte's efficiency experts took hold of the problem in 1914 and the rate
was reduced to 13.7; to 13 In 1915, nnd It will be less than 13 this year. This
means nearly 300 less persons are dying in Dayton each yeur now than a few
"Let It be said that Dayton Is the best city In America for a buby to be
born In," said Waite. His 12 city nurses and corps of district physicians
made it so.
Every mother In Dayton can have the free care nnd advice of the city's ,
nursing and medical department In the matter of feeding, dressing and caring
Sleight-of-Hand "Con" Men Infest Gotham Streets
NEW YORK.—In New York city there paowls around a band of men who
try to dispose of their wares upon the unsophisticated class who usually
iook for, bargains. Their specialty once was gold bricks, but now it includes
diamonds, gold watches and platinum
These prowlers usually purade
the busy sections where a little pros-
perity reigns, nnd there they work
their game upon the Innocent.
"Say, feller, do yer want to buy
Bomething good?" usually is their in-
Bargains everybody looks for.
"Let's see the article."
The faker then tukes from a knot-
ted handkerchief a highly polished
gold watch and chain, and after looking around to see if the "coust is clear,"
asks the purchaser to "Inspect the goods."
Of course the bargain seeker sees the genuine, but does he get that which
the faker shows?
These fakers have studied sleight-of-hand and have a duplicate of nearly
everything they sell.
The argument nnd examination take place In some quiet corner. The
faker tells the purchaser that Ills "mug" Is snapped in the gallery, and since
the article is a "copped" one the purchaser should not make much outward
display when somebody passes by.
Finally they come to terms, and when the purchaser Is ready to pass over
the money the faker says. "Just a minute," and whispers, "Walt till this guy
(who Is one of the band) passes. He looks like a detective." And In the
meantime they walk a few yards, while the faker slips the watch and chain
back into his pocket. When the deal is finally completed the faker hands
over an exact Imitation, which is much Inferior.
Milwaukee Ministers Must Be Jacks of All Trades
MILWAUKEE.—Ministerial duties, regarded by the general public as trivial,
are actually strenuous and comprise the occupations of clergyman, legal
adviser, employment agent, chauffeur, expressman nnd public orator. A
multitude of work Is required of the
It certainly looks bad for J
• D'Artlgny. Do you believe that •
J he has murdered Chevet In a flt J
• of temper? Is there a posqlbll- •
J ity that Cassion knows mora of J
• the tragedy than his manner In- •
2 dicates? J
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
They who lack self-control are all
their lives fighting with difficulties o/
their own Smiles,
modern minister, especially if the con-
gregation has provided him with an
Interviews with a number of Mil-
waukee pastors disclosed that they
are often called upon to rush a par-
ishioner to a train or tote some fur-
niture from one part of the city to
A short time ago a Milwaukee
minister, who was to have solemnized
n marriage that day, was called to
the phone by an excited woman, who said the bridegroom had disappeared,
and asked him to call on about 50 invited guests to notify them there would
be no wedding and no wedding dinner.
"If a minister Is seen on the tennis courts or at the bathing bench the
people say, 'Don't those preachers live easy,'" sighed Rev. It. S. Donaldson.
"Monday usually Is a preacher's off day, and because It is he schedules every-
thing for that day, and consequently does more work than on any other day,"
udded the clerygman.
In addition to their routine work, ministers must find time to visit tht
homes for the aged, hospitals, jail and other county institutions, and almost
every bankers', architects', old settlers' and bookkeepers' club wants to hav«
i nastor address them when they have a banquet.
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Burke, J. J. The Daily Transcript (Norman, Okla.), Vol. 4, No. 178, Ed. 1 Saturday, February 3, 1917, newspaper, February 3, 1917; Norman, Oklahoma. (gateway.okhistory.org/ark:/67531/metadc113397/m1/2/: accessed February 17, 2019), The Gateway to Oklahoma History, gateway.okhistory.org; crediting Oklahoma Historical Society.