Identifier: lincolncentenni00newy (find matches)
Title: Lincoln centennial number
Year: 1909 (1900s)
Authors:
Subjects: Lincoln, Abraham, 1809-1865 Lincoln, Abraham, 1809-1865 Trumbull, Lyman, 1813-1896 Presidents
Publisher: New York
Contributing Library: Lincoln Financial Foundation Collection
Digitizing Sponsor: The Institute of Museum and Library Services through an Indiana State Library LSTA Grant

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ether for months. Hildegarde! The mother tried toappear shocked. Well, we have, Mama, Hildegardedeclared. It was the least Max and Icould do for you, and it s a shame wedid nt think of it before. You ve stayedunmarried so long—and father was ntworthy of you, anyway. Mrs. Penrose gasped, and Hughlettlooked quickly at her. That s true, Pet, said Max. Hil-degarde ought nt to have said anythingabout it, for we know how it hurts you;but you had to stand so much from ourfather that we want you to be just ashappy as you can now. The young mansface was very serious. We 11 all three tryto make you so, he said, and turned away. Hughlett walked past the two andstood in front of Mrs. Penrose. Heturned her white face up to his own.You see! he said. It is as I said—thetide of time—it goes and comes, it wipesout all that was written on the sands. Ithas its ebb, but it has its flood, too! She smiled up at him, tremulously, andhe kissed her on the lips. When theyturned, the children had gone in.
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Drawn by Charles S. Chapman. Half-tone plate engraved by H. C. Merrill HER THUNDER BLENDED WITH THE ROAR FROM BELOW ORIENTED BY W. ALBERT HICKMAN Author of Overproof THIS is a poor story, for it has noplot, and all stories written inAmerica are supposed to have a plot.Nothing else matters. This story has agirl and a man and a chief event. Ofthese the chief event happened only in theordinary course of things, and if the girlhad not had one straight, white streak inher internal construction, probably itwould not have affected her in the properway, and there would have been no excusefor writing this at all. It may still be aquestion whether the girl was worthy ofthe event and so worth our valuable con-sideration. But whether she was worthit at the time or not, — and it seems im-probable,—she doubtless became so in theend. Under the drilling of love and lifemany of this sort do when you neverwould have suspected it. The chief eventitself was an artistic performance, andevery artistic

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