{ title: 'The Endicott times. (Endicott, N.Y.) 1930-1940, December 18, 1930, Page 6, Image 6', download_links: [ { link: 'http://www.loc.gov/rss/ndnp/ndnp.xml', label: 'application/rss+xml', meta: 'News about NYS Historic Newspapers - RSS Feed', }, { link: '/lccn/sn89071103/1930-12-18/ed-1/seq-6/png/', label: 'image/png', meta: '', }, { link: '/lccn/sn89071103/1930-12-18/ed-1/seq-6.pdf', label: 'application/pdf', meta: '', }, { link: '/lccn/sn89071103/1930-12-18/ed-1/seq-6/ocr.xml', label: 'application/xml', meta: '', }, { link: '/lccn/sn89071103/1930-12-18/ed-1/seq-6/ocr.txt', label: 'text/plain', meta: '', }, ] }
Image provided by: George F Johnson Memorial Library
THE END1CQTT TIMES,- -THURSDAY, DE&-4&, W30- THE ENDICOTT TIMES ESTABLISHED 1851 Published every Thursday a t 124 Nantlcoke Avenue. Endicott, N. Y. by J. M. Lloyd Subscription Rate—In New York an d Pennsylvania, $2.00 a year in advance. All other territory in O. S., Canada and Foreign, S3.00 per year in advance. ' Entered a s second class matter at the Post Office at Union, N. Y., under the Act of March 8, 1879. Rhone: Endicott 1371 THEODORE H. P. MORSE — Editor an d Manager WEEK ENDING THURSDAY, DECEMBER 18, 1930 PROPHECY One great philosopher has said, \Man's greatest joy comes from feeling sorry for himself.\ In i$te Hght off- present events we are almost tempted to believe him. The days of hair-shirts and men lying on beds of spikes are gone but we have their analogy in the man who gets pleasure out of whining about how hard times are and then lays back in the harness waiting for business to pick up. You'll find at least one of them on every street, one in every gathering, \I don't know what I'm going to do, business is terrible, there ain't nobody buyin' nothin' atall, faon't believe we'll ever see good times again. The shoe factories are all down to one or two days a week, there's going to be another cut in the pay of everybody; the L B. M. i s going on the rocks; I heard a rumor that another bank was going smash. Gosh, it looks as though we would never get out of this depression, it's the worst- the country has ever known.\ And with this same chap who i s so thoroughly en joying his misery are a thousand others in this same lo cality, heartily \enjoying\ life. Pessimists we call them, or dcrwe perhaps share their \enjoyment\?. - ~ In the midst of those stampeded b^he seeming de plorable condi£jons„ we find., one^ JEW two students of hu man nature. One o r twoWr^tnoKTrarities in men who are really utilizing the brains that God gave them, and drawing on their vast fund of experience and wisdom •for a fojerr glimpse into the future t)f the country, and more narrowly, to Endicott Men who sit; calmly dpwn, weighing the situation from all angles, comparing it with, other situations which they have experienced or of which \they have read. Men who know the inevitable laws of nature, that for every action there must be an equal and opposite reaction, that for every wave of pros perity there must be a wave of depression and vice versa. And what conclusion do they reach ? That the coun try is headed for bankruptcy? For ruin? No! We find them quietly making purchases, if they are finan cially able. - We fmd~themnuyingjranch repairing-- old} run-down houses, gradually making 1 improvements and at a. cost of nearly Half what the same iinproy^menjEaj would have aggregated jBve years ago o r will five\ years' hence. And five years hence when thgy enjoy the wealth and plrestige they have earned by their foresight we who were B ^ni^iededinto, Belf-pity and stinginess will point thenx owt as €i\e ,t racKy J 4Dgs w who had a lucky break and' sold something for \treree or four times/what; they paid for it white we silently berate ourselves for not taking advantage of the same opportunity. So much for those who can afford it How about those of us struggling along on a few days pay a month, barely to eke out a Kving7- \What of us?\ you say. To you we say only, \We believe in Endicott and its future and we predict that within the next year prosperity will be well on its way back.\ Prophecy can be based only on the past, no one can actually peer into the future. We know that the coun try has pulled out of far worse slumps than the present There is no reason to believe that it cannot repeat Orchestra Group Bears No Mark of Identification Another of those old cuts from the files in the basement of The Endicott Times appears on this page today. This is apparently one of a n orchestra but ha d no t the slightest mark of identified tion on it. Whether it i s of some church, school or other organiza tion w e do not know. However, many of our readers will no doubt be able t o identify i t and many of those here pictured probably still reside in Endicott It is expected that many inter esting, letters from local: residents Old Cut Taken From Piles of The Endicott Times will be received in explanation of this old photograph. These will be printed in an early issue of Tho T&ies. Address all letters to 'th o Editor, Th e Endicott Times,- Endicott. N. V. ^4; RUBY M.AYRIS, Sixteenth Installment WHAT HAS GONE BEFORE Giles Chittcniiam KU out to make Julie Farrow love him. intending to throw her over in revenge for the suicide ol bis brother Rodney, whom Julie hid cut oft. He succeeds, hut Ends thu he has fallen desperately in lore With her himself. Then he discovers that it wis not this Julie Far- l7 married, to an American girl named the nurse shook her head. \I „ ^t ^ ... . i.. .— . i: i .... » r /—* •.. i i if Sadie Barrow, with whom he has not Jived for a loos time. Sadie oncxpcctedJy turns up in London, at a party at Giles' mother's house, but both keep silent shout their mar- n ^jutie, disiUuslanea, enters Into the wild night- life ol London to try to drown her anguish.\ Lawrence Seho6eId want* to marry her. Lombard, who had first introduced her —ittenham. demand* *nney from Giles ward to seeing you to-day. We are sure it must\ have been an accident.\ Chittcnham made \nC answer, and presently Bim drew the nurse aside ti whisper : \Would she do > oil think she; would ever have recovered her sight ?' There was a little silence before the answer came. the threat that will tell Schofield thai spent the night .togett *s not paia ae .ham and Julie ae St .Bernard LateT~Jnlie~coni t to Chittenhsm that she lores jaim. At a spiritnaUstr^eanct at Giles' mother's house Sadie Barrow, his wiie, s«ddcnly goes bund. She calls to; him and he. responds, revealing the fact that she it his. wife. Julie, who has-sent Schofield away because of her lore frit*,CMtttnham,'goes home, ta'despair. Chitteiilra-.&Uovs her, but the sends him •way .a^oWdes'Sle'wfll accept Schofield. She goes, to Schofi eld's boteli. He is out. bet .sirs-'leaves' a^nitey'far htm. SchoEeld-sYeply is to retartf.Julie'i note fsrropeBed. Ijter-iie calls\ 'on'Xhirrenhnn of the don't think. Mrs. Chittcnham herself ever had any real hope.\ Bim walked to the window and looked ou t The sun was shining?| and the air was soft and warm. She closed her own eyes and tried to im- agine what ^die had suffered^ To or. the flowers, or a beloved face eyes that held her against her will. \But there is still Chittenharn,\ he said wry quietly. Julie tried to speak but no words would come, and before she could re sist he had drawn her down to sit beside him on one of the seats over looking the sea, and' was holding her hand m both his. \We've been searching • lui -yon-day and night, Julie—it seems a lifetime since you went away—\ Her lip curled scornfully. . \A lifetime I only two weeks)—\ \Sometimes two days can be an eternity,\ he told her with unusual eloquence. He did not heed when joe tried to interrupt him, he went on «r«dly+ Laughing Around the World With IRVIN S. COBB The Handiwork of a Master By IRVIN S. COBB F RED KELLY went back to the scenes o f his Ohio boyhood and Hired a horse and buggy to drive 'round an d visit familiar spots. As he was about t o climb into the buggy a negro came trotting across a lot, calling Kelly by name. Kelly couldn't remember him at first, but the negro identified himself as a boyhood playmate, an d insisted. Ketejftould drive him to, a n>M .whets he.had a.Job-cutting com, s^aining*that, if Kelly refused to do this he -would lose his Job. &efo» hatch**.' ot Julie. GOes threw* SehoStid out. Set that b what the world believes about the girl he loves!— \ '£ ~ - - — 'A? Utti»ilat«r-,Scao£«ld saeets a taan who tt0i.hlK4hai^e. toe. was at the St. Bern-, l5e ^e»lu^St ^»1l ^s?Saiaat*»^tne« • w *t ;aj va^t'reoa^I^mbard's story was a lie. But Julie has disappeared, having a sate taring she Is not earning back again. NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY \When 1 get well TO start all over again and show you. now nice I can be,\ she told him. \You've been so good to roe—far better than^l ever deserved, m pay yon bade some day; Gars.\ . , \Get well and strong, and I shall want nothing else,\ be.told her. The reports of the specialists were encouraging. They bad every hope, they said—it might be a long time naturally, but Mrs. Chittenharn was such an.excellent patient.. .\ Giles'wmocd arid turned away. One Saturday Be and Bim went down into Gloucester to follow up a clue which they hoped might lead to news of Julie. Chittenham ha d told Sadie he \was going tway oo business. She turned ImpatJently away when he would hare Mssed her. \You treat me like a child Nobody would think I am your wife,\ Chittcnham frowned. \Don't be unreavmable, Sadie. I ruiul tpenrt alt my urn? wrth you.\ Her drawn face flushed. \Yo would want t .i, u' y«/u tn\ed me, she accused lnm \If you would rather i did not gu—\ be began hupele»sl> bu she broke in .•ffendedl) 'Oh, go I go' I '.ic> jll sa> >.iu bt - ha\c like an anx-l lhr\ all tlimk th^t I am a beast to ynu. Oh. I knuw the) don't &ay s<>, but I know what they think.\ - Then as- she - Ml him move to leave her she caught at his arm with her thin, nervous liands Tm sorry, Giles. I didn't mean it. 1 do try to be reasonable, but it you were in my place—\ Her voice broke, and she controlled it with an effort \I'll do anything in the world to make you happy, Sadie,\ Giles *ai<L but in his heart he despised himself for a coward and a traitor to the woman he loved. He could do noth ing for Sadie if it was only his love the wanted, that was already in the keeping of Julie, who had gone out of his life perhaps for ever He lasted Sadie rrarriedly, anxious to be gone, but she clung to him. \Ki*s my tips—loss my lips—\ \Sadie r He held back from her for a mo ment, then gave way He kissed her lips kindly enough, but with no warmth or passion, and she pushed him from her petulantly\ \Go away You don't love me. YDrrhaTf taagTWtuYm** And a storm of tears came, and bit ter sobbing. Chittcnham went out to Bim, who was waiting for him, his face set and white, and his eyes miserable \I can't stand this much longer, 1 he told her as they drove away. It's an impossible situation. God only knows what the end will be.\ But the whole world knew the end when, on Monday morning, after a hopeless search along a chain of false clues which led them nowhere, Bim and Chittenharn returned to town. There was an urgent telephone call from Sadie's nursing home. Would Mr Chittenharn please come immedi ately \111 go with you/\ Bim said at once, and looking at Chittenham's white face, she hated herself for saying: \Perhaps it's good news. Perhaps she is recovering her sight.\ \I hope so. God knows, I hope to.\ Chittenharn answered. But it was something very differ ent. Early that morning, just as it 'SfiS ;tuTned7ahd \crossc3'uie'\ room tdTitnce Chittenharn. She understood so well what he was feeling, bow his 'heart, must be torn with remorse and grief, and yet through it all she knew he must be conscious of a great and over whelming relief. .. -» She slipped a hand into his. \At.aw: r wherever^lbe is, the can iic the suhMtiife 'again.'' \ There bi d been no definite plan in Julie's mind when she ran away from London. > She had no idea where she meant to to, but she had taken a ticket to Folkestone because it was the first place that occurred to her, and be cause she had once spent a happy holiday mere. It was only at mid-day when she reached Folkestone that the idea oc curred since you and I parted. You know—'* he stopped abruptly, only to g o on again with quiet detiber-' •tion. Chittenham's .wife is dead— Chittenharn If tree.\ Julie tried to (peak, but ber Hps felt too cold to frame any words. She sat staring before ber a t the fading sunset with a sense of numbed reality. OuttenbanTs wife was deadi Sadie deadt Sadie 1 \Sadie to have died like the butterfly she had been, after a few short hours of vain fluttering in the sunshine. Like a voice In a dream she heard Schofield speaking again. \We've searched for you where—Miss Lermox—\ Oh.—Bun 1\ It was only a little i^bSA'!?' «L™*«'» the was something comforting in the HREE interesting and very different experiences oc- cured one Sunday last fall. In the morning we sat in the chapel of ah historic aca demy in New England and, while the preacher prayed, we peeked a little. Our eyes wandered over the bowed heads of the boys; our imaginations were busy with thoughts of what might be in store for them. Riding back to New York on the train we read an im pressive speech by the President of the United States. When the tram stopped at Hartford we looked out of the window to see a crowd filling the air with rice and con fetti, and presently an embarrassed but happy young couple hurried through the car and into a drawing room Of these events—the prayer in the academy chapel, the speech of Mr Hoover, the marriage of an unknown and apparently common-place young couple—which was the most important? Which wtH leave the most lasting impresstoU on history? No one can possibly tell If every child and every happening were labelled \This is important\ or \This is unimportant\ the business of living would soon lose its zest The eternal uncertainty of it keeps it exciting For example, a King of England, coming down from Scotland, stopped for refreshment at a little town called Scrooby The young man who waited on the table was so obscure that the king probably never noticed him Hut who is more important in the light of history, the weak King Tames I of England or the strong young man William Brewster who sailed on the Mayflower and became the first governor of Massachusetts' In 1704 occurred the Battle of Blenheim Most of us remember nothing about it except the last lines of Robert Southey's poem: \And what was the use of it all?\ asked little Tweedledee. \I don't know,\ the man said, \but 'twas a famous victory.\ Just one year before, not far from the battle-field, was born a red faced baby His name was John Wesley. Battles, kingdoms, fortunes—they are all part of the great human drama. But the thrill lies in the fact that a word drop ped into the fertile mind of a boy, or a young couple starting nave incu to open tne winqcjw— a new home or a helpless infant uttering its first cry—these the nurse had left her alone for a also may have undying significance {«* trrinutes-and we think she lost . i ' . ... , | her balance. Last night she was quite 1 ..... „ , And any one of us, quite unwittingly, may be a part of a cheerful and hopeful, and looking for- there was a haunting sadness In his famous victory. I was> getting light, they had found Sadie lying on the pavement below her win dow—quite dead. 'It must have been an accident—\ they told him for his comfort. \She must have tried to open the window- knowledge that she could so easily put the width of the sea. between herself and the things from which she desired to escape. She crossed to Ostend by the mid. day boat, and took a room in a cheap tittle pennon which at any rate had the merit of great cleanliness. And there Julie stayed Jor__a fortnight,.! sleeping and resting, and trying to forget. She never thought of Schofield—it was too bitter a memory He had been the rock in her sea of distress to which she ha always unconsciously clung, and he had failed her even at everythtng else had failed her And then one evening as she was walking along by the sea with the sun set light in her face, she met him. He looked ill, she thought, and old I And as her eyes searched his face, it seemed impossible that only a few days ago she had seen him and talked to him—surely months must have drag ged away since she told him he must go out of her life. And Schofield gripped her wrist with fingers that bruised, as be said hoarsely—\Thank God—I've found you.\ Julie managed a laugh. Do you know that you actually sound sincere?\ she taunted him. ™T was never more sincere in my life Where can we go to be alone? I have so much to say to you. . . .\ Julie glanced down the almost de serted sea-front 'Tf you have anything to say that must be said, I hardly think any_ one will overhear you. But I am, in* a hurry \ Her voice broke angrily. \Why are you here at all?\ \We have been hunting for you ever since you left London.\ His agita tion was unmistakable; she could feel how his hand shook as he held her wrist. Julie laughed again. \WtT\ she queried. \Yes—Giles Chittenharn and self\ Giles Chittcnham?\ The colour died from her face. \I am indeed honoured,\ she said with a bitter sneer lofield winced as if she had hurt him. Don't talk like that If you only knew . . . Oh, Julie, let m$ explain— ; let me try t o explain—\ \There is nothing to explain—noth ing I want to hear.\ \You don't mean that—it's not like\ you to be hard and cruel—\ She tried to free herself. \Let me go. You and I have fin ished with each other.\ \Yes.\ He released her wrist but now .she made no effort to leave, him; my- Bim had never failed her—the onh| friend who had no t interruption. \We've searched every where—Miss I^nnnx and Chittenharn and L It is pure chance that I came here to-day, varnrthing seemed to force me to come. . . . \Poor Lawrence I\ Julie whispered. He winced and turned his face away. Tve been a fool—all my own fault . . and yet—you never cared for me, yulit . A -always, knew that-you never cared.\ \I don't care for any one,'' she, said) harshly. \I will never care for any one again. It hurts too much—iri not worth the little happiness one gets Sung to them in return.\ They were both silent for a moment then she broke out feverishly: \Why did you send my letter back to me? why were you so cruel?\ He told her unhesitatingly - \A man named Lombard ... a man named Lombard came to me with a lying story about you and . . . Giles Chit tenharn. He said that you and he spent the night together on the St. Bernard. . . * He turned his sad eyes to her \Forgive me, Julie—I must have been mad to have believed it\ \Forgive you? I don't understand —what do you mean?\ Then suddenly she knew, and the blood rushed in a burning tide to ber face. -\You thought -thatt* lhe whis pered. \Yes.\ The last streak of sunset warmth had faded, and there was a chill wind blowing in from the sea. Julie shiv ered and rose to her feet \It's cold. I must go.\ rLet me come with you, Julie. Now I've found yon—don't send me away like this—without saying you forgive roe.\ It cannot matter to you whether I forgive vou or not—\ \It matters everything in the world, Tulle, if there Is anything I can do for you—anything, anything—to make amends for the •past . .\ Julie half smiled as she looked at him, I t mattered so little to her that he had been unjust; he had never bad any real power'to hurt her; forgive; ness between then) would be a n easy thing. She touched his hand with sudden kindliness. 'Don't let us sty any more about it Lawrence. It's over and dom With. We'll part friends; shall We?\ \And you' will come' back with mi to England?\ bef asked eagerly. Her face\ grew cold.. \Gome hack to England . . . t never want to' go back again.\ \What makes you late?\ asked Kelly. \Oh. m y wife's sistsh is visitin' nt our house. She wasn't feelin' very Weil an' come over this mawnin'on-tho eight o'clock, car. They thought sho might get better at our house, but she died about half a n hoar after the come; so that .kept.me baefcfram geftin' to wuV \What was the matter?\ ask«d Kelly. nw wu tne numer: asuea neuy. Oh, eeems lak she went tq some,spr^ of a dan^ce, in ,E(ayton. night last an' some nigger over there got to, wulan on her'haid wM ft (AsMtteaA yews^lfaatsaraa, Ine.)^ Will Rogers* —A -4»fe By W^^|!R9 ; ^^^ S OMETIMES I. ^ondor/.yrh^iails^ hate to g}o ..to/Sundsy: School.'* Or maybe they aonVhate^.'.,3$$! always hcardrthey^dld,~-t*nyw»yi£ Looks liko'Suaa^yjSrAoDUougMHOfj be A right iriterMttasjktodiiofi amusement- otr :«:.hBlpful5Bdrt ^fdR: the klda. tBut-'th^feU'i^o^WdSjis haw'tobo'fdughtito K^p^nggo^ tag, wkrjfif Sunday. •»,\ i M;oyb«&thst,s aunt\ so;.with all Sunday* Schoblatf .but only;'where the* don!t/givo7 away candy or sriything. UkeSfliafc\ Anyhow, thero was a-kid .that' moved into a new ncighbbrSood, and he was just at tho: ag* 1 where, ktifwanted to^show foiwnthat^ef dldn't much approve of.-the '-vway/. things w «ia-being^ont^HB?a»gtl )r didn't want to go to Sunday School,, but his folks made him go.\ Yfy.,„ ^ ..... r^^'iv^.-i^tr- Very first dsy.ths tes^er;aske4;, him, \Herbert who >creabsd>'al|i these trees and flowers ana all this;; grass that we see when-welook'outj. St this big. window?\ ._ , \I dtmno,\ says the JddL.04;. reckon he was sore because' .the;, teacher^talkedr-so^sweet.\ '•• \J % ''My .goodnesSj -'-Herblert^ don't;-? yon know that? ,^G^w^, ? iteU \Ti»^ • • irln nir+WeartrMa inrT DraUv who made all'these'trees;*nd'flowy,\! ers. and tilings.'' ers. and all \the grMa|ai»jif'loyehj^ Geor jrge was a *eal'litUe';kid, sad^ he spoke right np and'told.' .The:- teacher thought that would shamer: the newjboy^snd.she turned tdhim.V; all ready to rub, it in.\ ~; £Zp$®> '•Well/'-he +s^^'\^zgtiia&*£ aasTTved here &-h&TBi*m&-$ffi ought to know. What.' 1 do.I,know^ about who mads this here neigk-, borhood, when I Just.niioved ^erS;- last week?\ ', \7 AroaricanKawaFratoiafcaae. - ' •• Otto-Kahn, the banker and pttla&F Thropist, _owns twenty-nve aiston -JoY'; Biles. And his chauffeur .stattsV tfiifc all of them are-constantly^'invus«y!^| —Just goes 'to /show I,tha@j5it 5 all anything else done whj^cverfiSV^^*^-. \Who's that new-girt I'leea-.-yoit: vith- hist-Tugnf? , '7-*— 1 .'\^^U^l^w «H «?» my_old The Introduction \Butj' Jdlfr-yrjur'harjplness . . She laughed mirthlessly. CONTINUED NEXT WEEK SCIENCE F.instrin, the German mathemati- aan, acclaimed the greatest scientific nind since Newton, is coming t o America to do research work at the California Institute of Technology. There are DO national boundaries to knowledge. Science is international. The discoveries of every man of sci ence ar e at the disposal oi the whole srorld. Germany led the world in scientific research for nearly a century. Now the leadership has come to us. In another hundred years it may be the Japanese or the Australians who ire astonishing the world with their liscoveries. It makes no difference. Truth is truth, wherever found. SOUSA An old man stood on the White House steps the other day and waved Its' baton while the President of the United States stood by his side arid Irank in the music which John Philip Soosa drew from the band which h e sad made famous years ago. It used to be said of America that •re were not a musical nation, Nobody tan say that today, Sonsa came along it a tune when musical taste was at will never die, with wWei. his name and the fame of tb*J»^ih£§*nd will forever be associated? The* nation bailed him as its greaTatYcornpcuerj, That was never true,' but hey was the greatest popularizeivbf music, hack in the 1880s and lSIX/s, and h e was, without doubt, the greatest bandleader the world had ever ACC^I up to then. INDIA Manlana Muhammad Ali reminded the British Government the other day I that if England had listened to I Edmund\ Burke she never would have lost America, and warned the reaction aries of the British Empire that un less they listened to him and his as sociates they would lose India. For the first time in history, all castes, religions and factions of the complex civilization of India united to demand, without mincing words, that their country shall have the same right of self-government, the same status as members of the British Com monwealth of Nations, as Canada, Australia, South Africa and the rest of the former colonies now enjoy Representatives of India and of the Empire are sitting in on \round table\ conferences in London, trying to decide India's fate. The reports of this gathering read as if the pages of his tory had been turned back a hundred and fifty-five years, to the time when delegates from this side of the Atlantic informed the ministers of King George III of the temper of the American colonists. The ministers of George V are more likely to listen than did those of his great-great- great-grandfather. INHERITANCE The estate of Thomas Fortune Ryan will pay 417,379,291 to the State of New York and- $4,382,072 to the Federal Government. There will still be left somewhat more than a hun dred million dollars, which is enough No ta x can b% Jalrer. ttaM^ttst) tat on large inherited estates. AjLjitata hs lowest ebb in the United States _ ind wrote the stirring marches that I for severaThe1riTo %tniggle along \on. belongs to the state: The righti It on by will is a privilege grstf the state, and not aujinherent. Most states prescribe what a', man may do by will. The heirs are entitled, by custom, to reasonable pa^-dpa- tion, but have no right to cesapriln if the state steps in and takes a largi share—out-first-for the benefit of Mil - the people. For no great fortune is accumulated except by the participa tion, directly or indirectly, of all the people. SHIPS The keel was laid'the other day for the largest passenger ship ever con structed in the United States. It will be 705 feet long and will carry 1,300 passengers across the Atlantic in less than six days. I t is to be' followed by another ship of the same size. These new ships will not be the largest passenger craft carrying the American flag. Nor will our new first-class liners compare with, tht new ships which Germany, Franc* and Great Britain have just built oi are building. It is a shortsighted policy whicr lets our Government be contented tc build less magnificently than do out rivals on the sea. For these new craft, like those of other nations, an built with Government subsidies. Per haps the Shipping Board and tht officials at Washington thought they would not have public support if they spent too much money on the new ships. In that, as in almost every thing^ else the Shipping Board' has done, they are wrong. The American people will back any, really magnificent expenditure with prideful enthusiasm, but it has never been inte-c^ted in economy or in second-r t,- (ichieve- ments.
