The Saturday Evening Post 1906-06-02: Vol 178 Iss 49

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ds Ngee ‘ ~~ .

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tinding that self-same a ROXBORO Invincibl n New y ork, ot Bost mn, or Chicagi > V same Cigars, Same price, same securfit ROXBORO (Invincible) CIGAR The largest good cigar ever sold for 5 cents the photo shows it. Measure it and you'll ‘he picture is as true a portrait as photography can make. j 1 of genuine Havana and thoroughly ripened broad-leaf is Sumatra. of the highest grade, and the photograph shows the workmanship. £ & era} rapper BOX of 25 ROXBORO INVINCIBLES $1.25 in UNITED CIGAR STORES anywhere — one for Look up the handiest UNITED CIGAR STORE in your town and ask for a ROXBORO. DO IT TO-DAY. This ROXBORO >of UNITED CIGAR STORES values. t the price through cutting out the intermediate pronts t come out of quality at your expense just suits vou in any one of our hundreds of f-same quality and self-same value, in every other UNITED CIGAR STORE to-day and see what you've been missing. ~All over the United States of America UNITED CIGAR STORES bring smokers close to the source of supply—hundreds of stores in the bigger cities. os Angeles or Portland, Oregon five inc hes long. stores, you Can reiy upon | THE [ chs MAN ois WHO “xi: SMOKES than price ane caeamenae a we 20,000,000 cig UNITED CIGAR STORES C The largest Cigar Retailers in the world. HUNDREDS OF STORES IN OPERATION FROM COAST TO COAST. New York---150 Stores. Chicago, Ill.---37 Stores. Boston, Mass.---16 Stores. Phila., Pa.---16 Stores. San Francisco, Cal. (10 stores destroyed 20 to be established.) Kansas City, Mo. Buffalo, N. Y. Pittsburg, Pa. Providence, R. I. New Haven, Ct. Fall River, Mass. Jersey City, N. J. Newark, N. J. Paterson, N. J. Albany, N. Y. Rochester, N. Y. Baltimore, Md. Washington, D. C. Cincinnati, O. Cleveland, O. Toledo, O. Indianapolis, Ind. Louisville, Ky. Fort Wayne, Ind. Erie, Pa. Grand Rapids, Mich. Saginaw, Mich. Minneapolis, Minn. St. Paul, Minn. Milwaukee, Wis.” Houston, Tex. Dallas, Tex. San Antonio, Tex. Galveston, Tex. Seattle, Wash. Los Angeles, Cal. Portiand, Ore. Etc., Etc. Because we serve you best.

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Sz SHOE Look for Name on Shoe The Pique **Cheral’’ Patent Colt Blucher Oxford Narrow Extension Sole, High Heel. (i @ Your next pair a “FLORSHEIM” and convince yourself of its superior qualities. You never have to “break in” a Florsheim. It gives genuine comfort from the start. Florsheim & Company CHICAGO, U.S. A. Style Book shows ‘‘ a fit for every foot.’’ Send for it. Most styles sell for $5.00 - Every Boy and Girl xes FREE a paint dealer can have one of our paint bo by telling us the name of and whether Opal-Gloss t he has Opa!-Gloas shines like a new dollar ind costs but a quarter THE DAVID B. CROCKETT CO. a 21st St., Bridgeport, Conn. YJ There's Nothing «Just as Good" sanisi oget ” O. kK PAPE R ‘ PASTENERS 8 “9. ¢.° advantage «{ . tiny! ut mighty ine testructible piercing point goes ¢ every sheet. co-acting rotecting sleeve, bind old wit bull-dog grip. No slipping Handsome Y Easily put on taken off finger ec used repeatedly they always work Mace of brass. Three sizes brass boxes t 100 ers¢ At Aa assorted sizes Liberal discount to the trade Send 10c for sample box of 50, Booklet free JAMES V. WASHBURNE, Mir., Syracuse, N.Y. [ramets reese itera ie an Bower & Co. 40-42 Bank St ,Phila.,Pa —————————— THE EDITOR’S COLUMN THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 423 to 427 Arch Street, Philadelphia By Subscription $1.50 the Year Five Cents the Copy of All Newsdealers Foreign Subscriptions: For Countries in the Postal Union oO 74 «2 Single Subscriptions, Remittances to be Made by International Postal Money Order When Your A Brief History Subscription Expires = Sa ay Eva P \ Three weeks before a subscription : ‘ Ihe expires we inclose a renewal blank on printe ‘ i ‘ which you may write your order for : , the renewal, and in the last copy sent 8 on the old subscription we again inclose . . a similar blank. Dur ( t eek, 1728 nN ‘ ‘ t When we first notify yo" tha of the t sal Inst il A Ne : r > t efore Tue I f ¢ hr ‘ I € é « I) Ht t e We 5 D i « WwW ! ‘ post e CLA ‘ eX} t I Alex P € A \ ' ! The New Young Man The lie that a young man has no chance in th ( of vast combinations of capital is nailed every time another ( appear If there’s any one thing that is not listed amor antique S itis opportunity A dozen young men—in no immediate danger of the dead-line are to-day in the glare of the lime-light 1] started under circumstances as widely separated as the | None has achieved his goal yet, for none has finished his lif But all have had enough success to make peop! it ask questions It is these questions that Tu will answer in a series of brilliant interviews and Alfred Henry Lewis Mr. Lewis is tourt t] looking into the work of this pictures by country He will discover what they stand for, vhat thev are tr a brilliant and inspirin Joseph Conrad’s New Story A dull fellow was Ga pat Rui - «od vit ane 1 I { understanding Merely childlike and simple and of tra dinary physical strength He was shot as a ade t he was shot Did not the little sergeant see him lving thet among the huddled forms of the other dead deserters, a not the little ser int ma rl ish a the unt neck with his sword to make sure of that strong man’s death ? Yet the adventures that afterward bet Gaspar t] most amazing that have be publi d fora tim \ in the hands of that incomparab irtist, Jose ( t storv must be ranked as the best fiction of the year We shall begin the publication of Gaspar R ! and those of our readers who have not read Joseph Conrae novels will, we feel sure, owe us i debt of ratit I i them acquainted with Mr. Conrad through the medium of t remarkable story. Plate Face Volo ‘Sewi ing Machine Valuable Book Pree SIMMONS HARDWARE COMPANY Be Sure to bet the Book For Men Who Seek Collar Comfort London Town BRAND Linen Collars English Styles Irish Linen American Make Free MORRISON Stew co Giens Falls FOR Careful Investors 5% Industrial Savings and Loan Co 1 Times Bidg.. Broadway, New York rs

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST June 2, 1906 It is a mistake to suppose that you can buy good soap ‘‘anywhere in Europe.”’ The fact is, that outside of the big cities, it is almost impossible to obtain it. A few of the hotels furnish individual cakes of soap for the use of guests. But, as a rule, it is not satisfactory. Gy THE PROCTER @ GAMBLE CO. CINCINNATY The thing to do is to take a plentiful supply of Ivory Soap with you. How many cakes should you take? That depends. If you expect to be gone a month, four cakes are enough. Two months, eight cakes. Three months, twelve cakes. staV-at-nome 1 shampooing purposes das ec average iaunal Ivory Soap -~It Floats.

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| | | j | | | THE SATURDAY in the United States and Great Britain. Copyright..906, by THe Curtis PusLisninc Company, Founded A°D’ 1728 by Benj.Franklin Entered at the Philadelphia Post-Office Published Weekly at 425 Arch Street by THE Curtis PUBLISHING COMPANY London: Hastings House.10, Norfolk Street. Strand,W.C. a EVENING POST as Second~Class Matter Volume 178 PHILADELPHIA, JUNE 2, 1900 Number 49 MOR T ! IR PENNISTON CRISP was a man cf some sixty active years, whose ruddy ; cheeks, twinkling blue -_— eyes and convincingly in- , nocent smile suggested forty. At thirty he had been accounted the most promising young surgeon in London; at forty he had become one of the three leading members of his profession; at fifty he had amassed a fortune and had begun to accept only those cases which in- volved complications of true scientific interest, or which came to him on the personal application of other distinguished phy- sicians. Like many another in the medical world whose material wants are guar- anteed, he found solace and amusement only in experimentation along new lines of his peculiar hobbies. His days were spent between his book- lined study with its cheery sea-coal fire and his adja- cent laboratory, where three assistants, all trained Bachelors of Science, conducted exper- iments under his personal direction. His daily life was as well ordered as his career had been. Rising at seven, Sir Penniston partook of a meagre breakfast, attended to his trifling personal affairs, read his newspaper, dictated his letters, and by nine was ready to don his uniform and receive his sterilized instruments from his young associate, Sealscope Jermyn, a capable and cheerful soul after Crisp’s own heart. An operating- theatre adjoined the laboratory, and here the baronet made it a point to perform once each week, in the presence of various surgeons who attended by invitation, a few difficult and dangerous operations upon patients sent to him from the City Hospital When Jermyn was with his familiars he was wont to refer to his master as the ‘*howlingist cheeze in surgery.”” This was putting it mildly, for, although Sir Penniston was indubitably, if you choose, quite the ‘‘howlingist cheeze”’ in surgery, he was also a pathfinder, an explorer into the mysteries of the body and the essence of vitality in bone and tissue. He could do more things to a cat in twenty minutes than would naturally oecur in the combined history of a thousand felines. He could handle the hidden arteries and vessels of the body as confidently and accurately as you or I would tie a shoestring. He had housed a tramp for thirteen months and inserted a plate-glass window in that gentleman’s exterior in order that he might with the greater certainty study the complicated processes of a digestion stimulated after a hitherto chronic lack of food. "de experimented on men, women, children, elephants, apes, ostriches, guinea- pigs, rabbits, turtles, frogs and golefish. He could alter the shape of a nose, or perfect an irregular ear in the twinkling of an instrument; remove a human heart and insert it still beating without inconvenience to its owner: and was as much at home among the vessels of Thebesius as he was on Piccadilly Circus. He was single, kept but one servant —a Jap —neither smoked nor drank, attended the worst play he could find every Saturday night, and gave ponderous dinners to his pro- fessional brethren on Wednesdays. He was the dean of his order, and bade fair to remain so for a long time to come—a calm, passionless craftsman in flesh and bone His rivals frequently were heard to say that there was nothing surgical in Heaven or earth that Crisp would not undertake. A faint odor of chloroform followed his well-regulated progress through existence. On the morning upon which this narrative opens Sir Penniston had entered his laboratory with that urbanity so characteristic of him. A white frock hung jauntily upon his well-filled, if slenderly-nourished, proportions, his blue eyes sparkled with good-natured activity, and his long, muscular hands rubbed themselves together in a manner which signified that they were anxious to be at the skilled work in which their owner took so keen a pleasure. Scalscope was already on hand, and with a bundle of By ARTHUR TRAIN A Nondescript, Undersized Man Cringingly Entered the Room MA IN dripping instruments his grasp met his masts half-way between the rating-table and ic Ah, good-morning Sealscope! How is the Marchioness of Cheshir morning ope smiled defer at the little joke l presume You mean Lady Tabitha He minor oper the antisey bath hip is doing spler 1 didly — better, | fans Excellent htful! Delig he?” At that moment a large Maltese cat, cognizant by some unknown instinct that she was the subject this matutinal conver sation, stalked slowly out of a patch of sunshine and rubbed herself bet we Sir Penniston's cloth-covered calves. TI surgeon bent over and fel earefully of her foreleg but the feline did not flinch; on the contrary she screwed round he broad the doctor's hand Ps rte ct ! Sir Penniston, his facs exclaimed lighting with a smile of scientific satisfaction Absolutely perfect ment of modern surgery ' Scalscope, you have lived to participate in the highest achieve Is the patient in the operating-room? Very good. The gentlemen assembled? Excel lent! While vou are administé« ring the somni-chloride | will announce our success.’ He bowed to the other assistants and, followed by the Marchioness of Cheshir opened the door which led to the platform of the operating-theatre. Some dozen or fifteer professional-looking gentlemen rose as he made his appearance and bowed. A young woman with her arm in a sling sat by the table attended by a couple of women nurses **(;ood-morning gentlemen! (,ood-morning! remarked Sir Penniston Mr Jermyn, will you kindly prepare the patient? My friends, | have the pleasure of being able to announce to you, and thus in a measure to permit you to share in, what | regard as the most extraordinary achievement of our profession 4 murmur of interest and appreciation made itself audible from the physicians who had resumed their seats upon the benches. If Sir Penniston regarded anything as remarkable, it must indeed be so, and they awaited his next words expectantly “The proble m, gentlemer The assembled surgeons gazed at one another in amazement. You may perhaps recall particular hobby, or, I should more properly say, theory, that there was no reason of limb-grafting has been solved!"’ he announced modest] continued the baronet, ‘‘that it has for years been m) the world why, if a severed finger or a nose could be replaced by surgery, the sar should not be true of a major part, such as a hand or leg ind that if a limb once severed could be replaced upon its stump, wl inother person's might not be used ‘*‘Many gentlemen eminent in our profession, some of whom I believe | see before n gave it as their opinion that such an operation was impossibl A few ind most of these, I regret to say, were upon the other je of the Atlantic —agreed with me that could and would ultimately be accomplished I studied the problem for vear Wa it our inabilitv to nourish a part once severed or so to reénervate it as to unite tendor muscles or bone? The latter surely gave no troublk lendons were sutured ¢ day, and under favorable circur ces their functions were restored; nerve frequently sutured and functional restoration recorded “The question, therefore, seemed to narrow itself down to whether or not it wa impossible to restore an arterial supply once cut off. Veins, of course, were frequent}; cut and sutured, and performed perfectly afterward Was there no wav to restore ar artery? In other words, could a limb once severed be sufficiently nou it? This, then, became my did the possibilities of untold benefit to mankind rished to restore special study —a fascinating study indeed, involvitig as it head and thrust it into

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Sir Penniston paused and glanced toward the table upon which was extended the now almost unconscious form of the patient. There was still plenty of time for him to conclude his remarks. ‘“‘With a view, therefore, to observing whether a thin glass tube wou!d be tolerated in a sterilized state within an artery (the only possible means I could devise to allow acontinued flow of blood and contemporaneous restoration) I made a number of half-inch pieces to suit the calibre of a dog’s femoral, constricted them very slightly to an hour-glass shape, and smoothed their ends by heat, so that no surface roughness should induce clotting. Cutting the femorals across, I tied each end on the tube by a fine silk thread, and tied the thread ends together. Primary union resulted, and the dog’s legs were as good asever! The first step had been successfully accomplished.” The assembled surgeons clapped their hands faintly in token of appreciation, and one or two murmured, “My word! — Extraordinary! — Marvelous!” Sir Penniston bowed slightly and resumed: “IT now added one more step to my experiments. I dissected out the trachial artery and vein near the axilla of a dog's fore-limb, and, holding these apart, amputated the limb through the shoulder muscles and sawed through the bone, leaving the limb attached only by the vessels. I then sutured the bone with a silver wire and the nerves with fine silk. Each muscle I sutured by itself with catgut, making a separate series of continuous suturing of the jascia lata and skin. The leg was then enveloped in sterilized dressing, a liberal use of iodoform gauze being the essential part. Over all, cotton and a plaster jacket were placed, leaving him three legs to walk on. The dog’s leg united perfectly.” The assembled gentlemen broke intoloud applause. The patient was lying motionless, her deep inspirations showing that she was under the anesthetic. But Sir Penniston was now lost in the enthusiasm of his subject. “Thus, gentlemen, I demonstrated that, if in an ampu- tated limb an artery could be left, the limb would survive the division and reuniting of everything else, and had good ground for the belief that if an arterial supply could be restored to a completely amputated limb, that limb also might be grafted back to its original er to a corresponding stump “The final experiment only remained amputation of a limb and its restoration—a combination of all the others —difficult, dangerous, delicate—and re- quiring much preparation, assistance and time. I finally selected a healthy cat, amputated its foreleg, inserted a glass tube in the artery, and sutured bone, muscles, nerves and skin. Complete restoration occurred! And after four months you have here before you this morning the cat herself, fat, well and strong, and as good as ever! —Here kitty, kitty, kitty!” The Marchioness of Cheshire ran quickly to Sir Penniston and leapt into his lap, while the gentlemen left the benches and hastened forward to seize the master’s hand and to examine the cat in wonder ‘There is nothing, therefore, in the way of grafting which cannot be successfully undertaken. A human arm or leg crushed at thigh or shoulder, and requiring amputation, would admit of Esmarch’s bandage being applied to expel its blood and of being used after amputation. Why not another man’s blood as well as its owner's? No reason in the world! .Had we here a suitable forearm ready to be applied I have no doubt but that I could successfully replace it upon the stump of the one I am now about to remove. Hereafter so long as there are limbs enough to go round—so long as the demand does not transcend the supply —none of our patients need fear the permanent loss of a member!’ The surgeons overwhelmed him with their congratu- lations, but Sir Penniston modestly waived them aside. His triumph was the triumph of science —and its purity was not marred by any thought of personal glorification. “The Crispan operation,” The others caught it up. ‘The Crispan operation,” they repeated. A slight look of gratification made itself ap- parent upon Sir Penniston’s rosy countenance. Thank you, gentlemen! Thank you! Mr. is the patient quite ready? Yes? We will gentlemen. My instruments, if you please.” Among those who left the operating theatre later was Sir Richard Mortmain. the complete some one whispered. Jermyn, proceed, an hour ul HE opalescent light from the bronze electric lamp onthe mahogany writing-table disclosed two gentlemen, whose attitudes and expressions left no doubt as to the serious import of their discussion. At the same time the memhbra lisjecta of afternoon tea which remained upon the teak tabaret, together with the still smoking butt of an Egyp- tian cigarette distilling its incense in a steadily perpendicu- lar gray column toward the ceiling from a jade jar used as an ash receiver, showed that for one of them at least the situation had admitted of physical amelioration. The THE SATURDAY EVENING POST “ The Problem, Gentlemen, of Limb Grafting has Been Solved! "’ He Announced Modestly gentleman beside the table had rested his high, narrow forehead upon the delicate fingers of his left hand, and with contracted eyebrows was gazing in a baffled manner toward his companion, who had extended his limbs at length before the heavy chair in which he reclined, and with his elbows upon its arms was holding his finger-tips lightly against each other before his face. To those who knew Ashley Flynt of the Inner Temple this meant that the last word had been spoken and that nothing remained but to accept the situation as he stated it and follow his advice. His heavy yet shrewd countenance, whose florid hue bespoke a modern adjustment of golf to a more traditional use of port, had that cold, vacant look which it displayed when the mind behind the mask had recorded Q. E. D. be- neath its unseen demonstration. The gentleman at the table twitched his shoulders nervously, slowly raised his head and leaned back into his chair. ‘*And you say that there is absolutely nothing which can be done?”’ he repeated mechanically. “T have already told you, Sir Richard,” replied Flynt in even, incisive tones, ‘‘that the last day of grace expires to-morrow. Unless the three notes are immediately taken up you will be forced into bankruptcy. Your property and expectations are already mortgaged for more than they are worth. Your assets of every sort will not return your creditors—-I should say your creditor—fifteen per cent. Seventy-nine thousand pounds, principal and interest —can you raise it or even a substantial part of it? No, not five thousand! You have no choice, so far as I can see, but to go into bankruptcy, unless——”’ he hesi- tated rather deprecatingly. “Well!” cried Sir Richard impatiently, ‘‘ unless?” **Unless you marry.” The other drew himself up and a flush crept into his cheeks and across his forehead. ‘As your legal adviser,”’ continued Flynt unperturbed, “T give it as my opinion that your only alternative to bankruptcy is a suitable marriage. Of course, for a man of your position in society a mere engagement might be enough to Sir Richard sprang quickly to his feet and stepped in front of his solicitor. “To induce the money-lenders to advance the amount necessary to put me on my feet? Bah! Flynt, how dare you make such a suggestion! If you were not my solicitor ! Good Heavens, that I should ever be brought to this!”’ Flynt shrugged his shoulders. “If you come to that, bankruptcy is the cheapest way to pay one’s debts.” His client uttered an ejaculation of disgust. Then suddenly the red deepened in his cheeks and he clenched his white hand until the thin blue veins stood out like cords. “Curse him!” he cried in a voice shaken by anger. “Curse him now and hereafter! Why did I ever take advantage of his pretended generosity? He meant to ruinme! Why was I ever born with tastes that I could not afford to gratify? Why must I surround myself with music and flowers and marbles? He saw his chance, stimulated my extravagance, seduced my intellect, and now he casts me into the street a beggar! I hate him, hate him, hate him! I believe I could kill him!”’ Sir Richard turned quickly. The door had opened to admit the silent, deferential figure of Joyce, the butler. “Pardon me, Sir Richard. A clerk from Mr. Flynt’s office, sir, with a package. Shall I let him in?” June 2, 1906 Mortmain still stood with his fist trembling in mid- air, and it was a moment before he regained sufficient control of himself to reply: **Yes, yes; let him in.” The butler nodded to some one just behind him, and a nondescript, undersized man cringingly entered the room and stood hesitatingly by the threshold. “Have you the papers, Flaggs?’’ inquired Flynt. ‘Here, sir,” replied the other, drawing forth a bundle tied in red tape and handing it to his employer. “Very good. You need not return to the office again. Good-night.” ‘“‘Good-night, sir. Thank you, sir,” mumbled Flaggs, and, casting a furtive, beetling glance in the direction of Sir Richard, he shambled out. The solicitor followed him with his eye until the door had closed behind him and then shrugged his shoulders for the second time. ‘My dear Sir Richard,” he remarked, ‘‘many of our most distinguished peers have gone through bank- ruptcy. It will all be the same a year hence. Society will be as glad as ever to receive you. Your name will command the same respect and likely enough the same credit. Bankruptcy is still eminently respectable. As for Lord Russell —try to forget him. It is enough that you owe him the money.” Mortmain’s anger had been followed by the reaction of despair. Now he groped for a cigarette and, drawing a jeweled match-box from his pocket, lit it with trembling fingers. Flynt arose. ‘*That’s right,” he exclaimed; ‘‘ just be sensible about it. Meet me to-morrow at my office at ten o’clock and we will call in Lord Russell’s solicitors,for a consultation. It will be amicable enough, I assure you. Well, I must be off. Good-night.” He extended his hand, but Mortmain had thrust his own into his trousers’ pockets. ‘‘And you say nothing can prevent.this?”’ “Why, yes,” returned Flynt in a sarcastic tone; believe two things can do so.” “Indeed,” remarked Sir Richard. be?”’ Flynt had stepped impatiently to the door, which he now held half open. Sir Richard had failed to send him a draft for his last bill. ‘A fire from Heaven to consume the notes— coupled with the death of Lord Russell—or your own. Good-night!” The door closed abruptly and Sir Richard Mortmain was left alone. “The death of Lord Russell or my own!” he repeated with a harsh laugh. ‘‘Agreeable fellow, Flynt!’”? Then the bitter smile died out of his face and the lines hardened. Over on the heavy onyx mantel, between two grotesque bronze Chinese vases from whose ponderous sides dragons with bristling teeth and claws writhed to escape, a Sévres clock chimed six, and was echoed by a dim booming from the outer hall. Mortmain glanced with regret about the little den that typified so perfectly the futility of his luxurious existence. The deadened walls admitted hardly a suggestion of the traffic outside. By a flower-set window the open piano still held the score of La Giaconda, the opening performance of which he was to attend that evening with Lady Bella Forsythe. A bunch of lilies-of-the-valley stood at his elbow upon the massive table that never bore anything upon its polished surface save an ancient manuscript, an etching, or a vase of flowers. Delicate cabinets showed row upon row of grotesque Capodimonte, rare Sévres, porcelains, jade and Dresden, and other examples of ceramic art. Two Rembrandts, a Coré, and a profile by Whistler occupied the wall space. The mantel was given over to a few choice antique bronzes, covered with verdi- gris. The only concession to modern utilitarianism was an extension telephone standing upon a bracket in the corner behind the fireplace. The only surviving member of his family, Mortmain had inherited from his father, Sir Mortimer, a discriminating intellect and artistic tastes, united with a gentle, engaging and unambitious disposition, derived from his Italian mother. Carelessly indifferent to his social inferiors, or those whom he regarded as such, he was brilliantly entertaining with his equals—a man of moods, keenly sensitive to public opinion, conservative in habit, yet devoted to society, expensive in his mode of life, given to hospitality —and a spendthrift. These qualities combined to make him caviare to the general, an enigma to the ma- jority, and the favorite of the few, whose favorite he desired to be. He had never married, for his calculation and his laziness had jumped together to convince him that he could be more comfortable, more independent, and more free to pursue his music and kindred tastes, if single. Altogether, Sir Richard, though perhaps a trifle selfish, and entirely a sensualist, was by no means a bad fellow, and one whose temperament fitted him to be what he was—a leader in matters of taste, a connoisseur, and an esteemed member of the gay world. No doubt, as Flynt had suggested, he could have liberated himself financially by donning the golden shackles of an ‘“‘What may they

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aristocratic marital slavery. But his soul revolted at the thought of marrying for money, not so much at the moral aspect of it as because a certain individual tranquillity had become necessary to his mode of life. He was forty anda creature of habit. A conventional marriage would have been as intolerable as earning his living. On the other hand, the odium of a bankruptcy proceeding, the pub- licity, the vulgarity of it, and the loss of prestige and posi- tion which it would necessarily involve brought him face to face with the only alternative which Flynt had flung at him in parting —the death of Lord Russell or his own. He had known that without being told. Months before, the silver-mounted pistol which was to round out his con- sistently inconsistent existence had been concealed among the linen inthe bureau of his Louis XI V bedroom, but it was to be invoked only when no other course remained. That nothing else did remain was clear. Flynt had read his client’s sentence in that brutally unconscious jest. On the day of his interview with Flynt he was one of the most highly-regarded critics of music and art in London, and his own brilliant accomplishments as a virtuoso had been supplemented by a lavish generosity toward strug- gling painters and musicians who found easy access to his purse and table, if not to his heart. He had introduced Hauptmann, the Austrian pianist, to the musical world at a heavy financial loss and had made several costly donations to the British Museum, in addition to which his collection of scarabs was one of the most com- plete on record and required constant replenishing to keep it up to date. His expensive habits had required money and plenty of it, and when his patrimony had been ex- hausted he had mortgaged his expectations in his uncle's estate to launch the Austrian genius. It had been alamen- table failure. Mortmain’s friends had said plainly enough that Hauptmann could play no better than his patron. This of itself implied no mean talent, but the public had resolutely refused to pay five shillings a ticket to hear the pianist, and the money was gone. Sir Richard had found him- self in the hollow position of playing Mzcenas without the price, and rather than change his pose and his manner of life had borrowed twenty-five thousand pounds four years before from an elderly peer, who combined philanthropy and what some declared to be usury with a high degree of success. There were those who hinted that this eminently respectable aristocrat robbed Peter more than he paid Paul, but Lord Gordon Russell was a man with whose reputation it was not safe to take liberties. The next year Mortmain had renewed his note, and, in order to save his famous collection from being knocked down at Christie’s, had borrowed twenty-five thousand pounds more. The same thing happened the year after, and now all three notes were three days overdue. Sir Richard responded to the an- nouncement of the little Sévres clock by pressing a button at the side of his desk,

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST It was dark already and the street lamps glowed nebu- lously through the gathering fog. The air was chilly, and a thick mealy paste, half sleet, half water, formed a sort of icing upon the sidewalk which made walking slippery and uncomfortable. Few people were abroad, for fashion able London was in its clubs and boudoirs, and the workers thronged in an entirely different direction The club was but a few streets away and it was only ten minutes after the hour when he entered it and strolled carelessly through the roon No one whom he cared particularly to see was there, and the fresh, if bitter December air outside seemed vastly stuffy atmosphere of the smoke-filled card and readit rooms. Therefore, as he had nearly an hour before it would be time to dress, he left the club, and with t of extending his evening r:

preferable Oo the } abdi n <

Vague idea turned northward

Unconsciously he ke pt re peauit hy Flynt's words The death of Lord Russell or your owr Then, without heed to where he was going, he fell into a reverie in which he saw the emptiness and uselessness of his lift Presently he entered a large square, and found himself asking what was so familiar in the picket fence and broad flight of steps that led up to the main entrance of the mansion on the corner. A wing of the house made out into a side street and presented three brilliantly-lighted windows to the night. Two were empty, but on the whit shade of the third only a few feet above the sidewalk w fixed the sharp shadow of a man’s head bending over a table. Now and then the lips moved as if their owner were addressing some other occupant of the chamber. It was the head of an old man, bald and shrunken Mortmain uttered a short curse. What tricks was Fat trying to play with him by leading his footsteps to the house of the very man who on the following morning would ruin him as inevitably and inexorably as the sun would rise! A wave of anger surged through him and he shook his fist

him by the collar and had jerked him to his feet lhe fa had so dazed the clerk that he made no resistance ‘I ope ¢ didn't hoffer you ho viorence Sir Richard remarked the bobby, touching his helmet with his occupied hand. “‘ Hit’s disgraceful —right in front of I Russell s, too! No, he was merely offensive,’ replied Mortmain, rec nizing the policeman as an old timer on the beat Thank Good-night rhe baronet turned away as the wobby started toward t station-ho e conduc rh bewilders tim by } nape of the ne Without heedir n Mortmaiu ode trving t I i ke ys and the littl bald head in the window rh is had creat in |} a feeling of a lal nausea » that a pers] it ‘ tut a er h i and f va 1 uncertaini After covering half a1 r so, the air ived him, and laVINg lake t bea ner e a Wide circle 80 a avoid Farringham Square again and at the same time ti approach his house from the opposite direction in which h had started He still felt shocked and ill —the same sensa tion which he had once experienced on se« r two navvie hghting outsideot amu hall He remembered afterward hat there seemed bn e people on th treets as he neared his home and that a patrol wagon passed at a galop n the same direction A hundred vards farther on he saw a long envelope lying in the slush upon the sidewalk and

mechanically he picked it up and thrust it in the pocket of his coat Joyce came to the door Just as the hall clock boomed seven, Sir Richard had been gone exactly an hour Fetch me a brandy and xia,”’ ordered the baronet huskily and stepped into the study without removing hi furs. The fire had been replenished and was cracking merrily, but it sent no answering glow through Sir Richard frame The shadow of the little bald head still rested like a weight upon his brain, and his hands were moist and clamt He thrust them into his pockets and came into contact with the wet manila cover of the envelope, and he drew it forth and tossed it upon the as Joyce entered with the table just brandy The valet removed his master's coat and noiselessly left the room, whilk Mortmain drained the glass and then carelessly examined the env lope Th names of ‘‘Flynt, Steele & Burnham printed in the upper left-hand corner caught his eye The names of his own solicitors! That was a peculiar thing Perhaps Flynt had dropped it or Flagg He turned it over curiousl It wa unsealed as if it had formed one of a package of papers The baronet lifted the envelope to the lamp and peeped within it here were three thin sheet of paper co ered with writing, and ur consciously he drew them forth and ey amined them At the foot of each ir delicate, firm characters appeared his own name Laring hin fan il arly im the face In the corner were the unmis which summons was speedily answered takable figures £25,000. He rubbed hi by the stolid Joyce. forehead and read all three carefully “‘My fur coat, if you please, Joyce.”’ \ There could be no doubt of it —they ” Very good, sir.”’ Joy ce combined the The Little Sevres Clock Ticked off Forty Seconds and Then Softly Chimed the Quarter, were his own three notes of hand to Lord eye of an eagle with the stolidity of an While the Blood from the Baronet’s Hand Spurted in a Tiny Stream upon the Rug Gordon Russell Fate was playir Egyptian mummy. Mortmain arose, stepped to the fire, rubbed his thin, carefully-kept fingers together, then seated himself at the piano and played a few chords from the overture. As he sat there he looked anything but a bankrupt peer upon the eve of suicide —rather one would have said, a young Italian musician, just ready to receive and enjoy the crowning pleasures of life. The thin light of the heavily- shaded lamps brought out the ivory paleness of his face and hands, and the delicate, sensitive outline of his form, as with eyes half closed and head thrown back he ran his fingers with facile skill across the keyboard. “Your coat is here, sir,’’ said Joyce. Mortmain arose and presented his arms while the servant deftly threw on the seal-lined garment, ‘and handed his master his silk hat, gloves and gold-headed stick. “‘T am going for a short walk, Joyce. I shall be back by seven. You can reach me at the club, if necessary."’ Joyce held open the door of the study and then hurried ahead through the luxuriously furnished hall to push open the heavy door at the entrance. On the threshold Mort- main turned and, looking Joyce in the eye, said sharply ‘Why did you let that fellow Flaggs follow you to the door of my study, instead of leaving him in the hall?” “I beg pardon, sir,” replied the servant, ‘‘ but he slipped behind me afore I knew it, sir. He wasarum one, anyway, sir—a bit in liquor, I fancy, sir.” Mortmain turned and passed out without reply. He hated intruders and had not liked the way in which Flynt had calmly received the clerk in his private study. On the whole, he regarded the solicitor as presuming. at the shadow on the curtain, exclaiming as he had done in his study half an hour before: ‘‘Curse him!” “Ain't got much bloomin’ ‘air, ‘as 'e, guv’nor?”’ said a thick voice at his elbow. Sir Richard started back and beheld by the indistinct light of the street lamp the leering face of Flaggs, the clerk “Tha’sh yer frien’ Russell,’’ continued the other with easy familiarity. ‘‘A bloomin’ bad un, says I. ‘Orrid li'l bald ‘ead! Got'sh notes, too. Your notes, Sir Richard Don’t like ‘im myself!” Mortmain turned faint. This wretched scrivener had stumbled upon or overheard his secret. That he was drunk was obvious, but that only made him the more dangerous “Take yourse¢ lf off, my man It’s too cold out here for you,”’ ordered the baronet, slipping a couple of shilling into his hand. “Than’ you, Sir Richard,’"” mumbled Flaggs, leanir heavily in Mortmain’s direction. ‘I accept this as a ‘refresher.’ Lemme tell you somethin Like to kill ‘im,’ says you? Kill ‘im, says I. Le’s kill 'im together "Ere an’ now!. Eh?” ‘Leave me, do you hear ?”’ cried the baronet.‘ You're in no condition to be on the street.” Flaggs grinned a sickly grin. “Same errand as you, your worship. Both ‘ere lookin’ at li'l old bald ‘ead. Look at 'im now——”" He raised his finger and pointed at the window, then staggered backward, lost his balance, and fell over the curb along the gutter. In another instant a policeman had tricks with him again A fire from Heaven to consume the note ‘Iynt had said Here were the notes—there was the fire Had Heaven perhaps really interposed to save him! Was this chance or Providence With a short breath the baronet grasped the note ind took a step toward the hearth As he did so the extension telephone by the mantel began His heart thumped loudly as, with a feel

ring excite dly ing of guilt, he relaid the notes upon the table and se 1 the telephone Yes Ves th Mortmain! Richard,”’ came the voice of a friend at the clul anxious tones, ‘‘are you there? Are you at hom«

Yes—yes!"’ repeated the baronet breathlessly What is it?’ Have you heard tl new the news about Lord Russell ? Mortmain’s head swam with a wl f pret No he replied, trying to aster [ wi t perspirat yn agair b t er | Wh new What has Nappene Lord Russell was murdered in his library at half-after IX this evening Some one gained access to the room a killed the old man at h tud abi Killed Lord Russell!"’ gasped Sir Richard Ha they caught the murderer ? **No,”’ continued his friend rhe assassin d one of the windows into the street Phe police al possession There is nothing to indicate who did the deed There was blood everywhere H secretary, &2 man named i fl

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6 THE FIRE-EATERS ‘Gentlemen's Battles’””» Under the Code of Honor OMETIMES, when I sit and reflect on the views of sub- stantially everybody nowadays upon cer- tain subjects, and con- trast them with those prevailing when I wasa child, | wonder whether it is really the same world I lived in fifty years ago. A half-century has sufficed to effect a com- plete revolution in public sentiment upon many questions per- taining to the social life of Americans. Take, for example, the sub- ject of attendance upon divine worship. When I was a child the failure of the head of the family to attend religious worship on the Sabbath day raised the presumption that there was something wrong in his mental or moral make-up. This observance was as much a part of the habit of a gentleman as that of shaving and changing his linen daily. Then, too, blasphemy, scoffing or speaking irreverently of religious things was sufficient to expel any man from good society. Profanity was, perhaps, more prevalent then than it is to-day, but a distinction between profanity and blasphemy was not enly drawn with care but carefully observed. One may call it a distinction without a differ- ence, but it was nevertheless observed with nicety. Swearing was a princely habit; blasphemy was only indulged in by heretics and vulgarians. Queen Elizabeth herself indulged in all sorts of oaths, as is testified by her language to her favorites, Leicester, Raleigh and others. With such a distinguished example, it is no wonder that “‘our army swore terribly in Flanders.” The practice of profanity was at its height among the English soldiers who were battling for religious liberty in the Low Countries about the time Jamestown was settled, and the habit was unquestionably transplanted to Virginia, where it appears to have thrived, for even the good and great Geofge Washington is reported to have expressed himself. mest forcibly at Monmouth, and I have often heard my father tell a very good story, told to him by one of the Carys, of a certain Sunday when in his vouth he was Visiting at-Mount Vernon. Of course, everybody went to church, and young Cary was allowed to ride a favorite mare of General Washington’s. On the way home the mare ran away with Cary. As he dashed by the Washing- ton coach, the General, who thought it was a boyish freak, stuck his head out of the window and cursed him furiously as long as he was within hearing. Drinking was another of our inherited accomplishments, and that was not confined to the English colonists. It appears to have been as much a Dutch as an English accomplishment, and perhaps it has retained more of its vigor in the Dutch colony of New York than anywhere else at the present day. The particular accomplishment of which I purpose to speak is that of dueling, which was more prevalent in the Southern cotonies than in any other section of the United States. This practice had a distinct origin in the days of chivalry and was not confined to any European country. In Germany, France, Spain, England, and even in the plebeian Netherlands during the so-called days of chivalry, what was known as the wager of battle was so well recognized that even a person charged with a social offense, but incapacitated by sex or condition from bearing arms, had the right recognized in courts of justice to call for and accept a champion to engage in mortal combat in defense of the accused under rules prescribed by the court The triumph or defeat of the champion so elected deter- mined the question of guilt or innocence Education in the law of single combat was an essential part of the training of every youth whose rank entitled r's Note amous Amer Edit This is the firet of two papers by Mr. Wise on me can duels By JOHN S. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST him to wear coat armor. It is hard to realize that it is but a little over three hundred years since Henry of Navarre made formal proffer to settle the rivai claims of himself and Henry, Duke of Guise, to the French succession by single combat. It is not difficult to perceive, with such precedents, how the custom of settling disputes, by what was called private battle, became, as it were, hereditary among gentlemen, and continued long after the use of armor had ceased. In my boyhood and up to within twenty years ago not only did the practice of dueling survive in the South, but it was believed in by a number of people, who, on the whole, were just as respectable and just as sensible as people anywhere else. The times have changed greatly and we have changed with them. Nowadays attendance on public worship by men has fallen away until anybody looking into a church may almost fancy that only women regard attendance upon divine worship as essential to salvation. Views upon the subject of the Divinity and salvation, no matter how blas- phemous or skeptical they may be, are regarded simply as venial idiosyncrasies of the individual; profanity is frowned upon and denounced as evidence of low association. The men of our day have undoubtedly greatly improved in the matter of drinking. Old-time drunkenness is rare in the country, and although in large cities there is a great deal of drinking done, it is certainly injurious to the stand- ing in business life of those indulging in it. Dueling has so passed out of vogue that any man any- where who would fight a duel at the present time is looked upon as little better than a sentimental lunatic. It is concerning this last extinct practice that I purpose to give some reminiscences. The reader must pardon the “At the Word ‘Fire,’ as He Pushed His Gun Forward. it was Discharged into the Ground Not Three Feet from His Toes" introduction of the members of my own family. It is not through egotism, but because all my reminiscences were derived from their experiences, and for the further reason that, in order to put myself in touch with those who care to read these reminiscences, I must put them in the atmos- phere by which my own youth was surrounded and under the influence of which I accepted doctrines expounded to me by two of the best men I ever knew; doctrines which, at the present day, seem absurd to everybody. WISE June 2, 1906 My father was not only one of the bravest and most eloquent men I ever knew, but he had the most infallible in- stinct of honesty, prac- ticed it with Roman fortitude, and was one of the best husbands, fathers and masters that ever lived. I believe this will be the universal testimony of the great number of people who knew him. He was born in 1806 and, being an orphan, much of his youth was spent in the home of his grandfather, of whom Mr. Custis in his me- moirs says: ‘‘General Cropper had but one toast which he de- livered in all compa- nies, to wit, ‘God bless yoo George Washington! The family were Episcopalians, and, although my father never joined the church publicly, he was reared to a pro- found reverence for holy things, carefully and thoroughly versed in the Bible, attended Episcopal service regularly and required his family to do so; treated trifling with sacred things as evidence of degeneracy; was scrupulous] abstemious about liquor; refrained from gambling as a matter of principle, and was true to every family relation But he swore with almost poetic fluency, as his old grand- father did before him, and he was a disciple of the code of dueling. His advocacy of dueling could not be put upon the score of ignorance, for he was an unusually intelligent and educated man. Moreover, he was a man so courageous and independent that he often defied public opinion con- cerning things about which he had his own convictions. If he had, for a moment, believed that dueling was wrong, he would have refused to fight, and would have been utterly indifferent to any aspersion coming from anybody who doubted his motives. But concerning a fairly-conducted duel it would have been the veriest folly to argue with him that it was wrong. He believed that it was the only prac- tical method of maintaining in a community of gentlemen the courtesy and deference and mutual consideration which was essential to such society. He believed it was the of adjusting differences which were irreconcilabl between gentlemen, and looked upon fist-fights and bowie- knife encounters as the practices of vulgarians who were little better than animals. It was idle to talk with him about the consequences of dueling —the death or wounds of the principals, the vicari- ous sufferings entailed upon their families in consequence. To all such suggestions he would reply that in urging these you were sacrificing a high principle to the arguments of inconvenience; that of course dueling was dangerous, and that if it was not it would not make men cautions about provoking a duel. He argued that its very danger was its strength, because it tended to preserve social courtesy, and that, when its utility was admitted and one began to calculate the cost, he was rapidly falling into the category of a Bob Acres and becoming a coward. He delighted to tell the story of the interview between Felix Grundy and Andrew Jackson. Grundy consulted Jackson and sought his advice whether, in a certain matter, he ought to senda manachallenge. After hearing the case, Old Hickory thundered forth: ‘‘By the eternal gods, sir, challenge him!”’ Grundy began to explain to General Jackson the condition of his private affairs, which made it very undesirable that he should challenge. Jackson indig- nantly replied: ‘‘Then, sir, if your family affairs are mors important than your honor, don’t challenge him.” The moral aspect of dueling did not seem to repel him atall. In fact, he looked upon the sending or accepting of a challenge to fight a duel as entirely consistent with loving and serving and fearing God in other respects. The mental and moral absolution taken to himself by the duelist of that day would seem to have rested upon the notion that the right to demand respect and courtesy with absolute fearlessness, and to kill anybody who denied those inherent way

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orem,

rights, was God-given, and that the enforcement of those rights was not offensive to the Deity. I have not the slightest idea that he thought God would punish him for the offense of dueling. Many years after his own dueling experiences I witnessed his death, and it was sublime, God-fearing and conscience-clear. His participation in duels apparently gave him not the slightest concern for his future happiness, and there is the puzzle of it, for he was neither a fool nor a hypocrite. At the very beginning of his political career my father fought a duel with the Honorable Richard Coke. Mr. Coke represented the First Congressional District of Virginia and was a Nullifier. My father announced his independent candidacy, and in opposition to Coke’s views. He was then only about twenty-five years old. Coke was a popular man, and it looked like another David and Goliath fight. It was not long before a challenge passed, and, in the ver- nacular of the day, Mr. Coke was ‘‘winged.”’ That is to say, he was wounded and disabled by a ball in his pistol- arm. Did it injure my father’s prospects? Not much! The community voted it a fair fight, and although the good religious women, then as now, rolled up their eyes and shud- dered and denounced the sin of such conflicts, the men thought my father had served Coke right and elected him over Coke. Coke did not seem to think so badly of it, for he and my father were reconciled. Coke accepted his defeat gracefully, never opposed my father again, and the two were friendly ever afterward. In Congress my father became much attached to Sargent S. Prentiss, that brilliant Yankee, who went South and out-Heroded all the great Herods in his wild, Southern ways. I have often heard my father laugh over Prentiss’ description of his duel with Foote in Mississippi. In those days a duel was a delightful diversion to a Mississippi community. The whole town turned out to witness it. On the occasion described a number of little boys had climbed the neighboring trees that they might better witness the shooting. ‘Little boys, you had better get down from there,”’ said Prentiss, as he walked to his position with a laughing face. ‘‘Mr. Foote is very careless in his use of firearms.”’ Another favorite story illustrating the coolness of com- batants on the field was that of the duel between Henry Clay and John Randolph, in which, after exchanging shots and being reconciled, Mr. Randolph, in his thin, piping voice, pointed to a furrow in his clothing made by Mr Clay’s bullet and said: ‘Mr. Clay, you owe me a new coat.” The most serious of my father’s experiences in dueling was that in the famous Graves and Cilley duel, into which he was dragged, against his will, to act as second for a man he knew but slightly and for whom he really cared nothing. The Honorable Jonathan Cilley, a gallant, impetuous, high-tempered man, entered Congress from Maine with the oft-avowed feeling that the members of Congress from the North allowed the Southern members to hector and lord it over them too freely —that they ought to respond to such attacks in kind, and that, when they had done so a few times, such arrogance would cease. Cilley was said to be a capital shot himself and it was not long before he found the fight he was looking for. Unfortunately, the adversary whom he aroused to chal- lenge him was a Northern man, James Watson Webb, editor of a Whig newspaper in New York named the Courier and Enquirer. Cilley had denounced him for his zeal in the Whig-Clay cause. Webb appealed to Repre- sentative Graves, of Kentucky, to bear his challenge, and Graves, being a devoted follower of Mr. Clay, in whose service Webb had been attacked, consented. The following account of my father’s connection with the affair is copied from an original manuscript drawn up by him and, as late as 1875, submitted to and approved by his lifelong friend, the Honorable George W. Jones, of Iowa, who was Mr. Cilley’s second. It is valuable because it has never before been published, and is instructive because it shows some of the points of finesse in the science of dueling. It is not published in full because of sundry strictures upon James Watson Webb, which would only tend to revive bitterness ‘** According to my recoflection I was not at Washington, but at home in Accomac, Virginia, when the speech of Cilley was made and published. I returned to Washington after the time when Webb engaged Mr. Graves’ services as a second and put the challenge into Graves’ hands, and he, Graves, had delivered it. At no time did I ever confer with Webb about the matter, either alone or with Mr. Graves, or others. He knew nothing of my advice or counsel to Mr. Graves. **But whether I had returned to Washington or not, | positively aver that the challenge was delivered to Graves and by him delivered to Cilley, without any knowledge or information of the fact on my part. It was only after the challenge was tendered that I was informed by Mr. Graves or any one else of its existence. I learned from Mr. Graves himself, who sought my counsel, all I ever knew, or was in formed of before the fight, of what occurred between him,

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Graves, and Mr. Cilley on the presentation of the challenge Mr. Graves’ statement to me was in brief and in substance as follows: He said, as soon as he obtained a private inter view with Mr. Cilley, he announced the object of his visit He (Mr. Cilley) showed no surprise and seemed to be pre- pared for the call. He immediately declined to accept the challenge, on the sole ground that he would not admit } ehate én the H “se Mr. Graves asked him to say whether he declined on the ground that his principal, James Watson Webb, was not a gentleman. Mr. Cilley replied that he would not affirm or disclaim any reason other than that he was not respon- sible for words spoken by him in debate in the House. Mr. Graves then inquired whether that was his only ground of declining. Mr. Cilley replied that the only ground he chose to stand upon was his irresponsibility to an editor for words responsibility jor word poken by him ar

“ At the Count ‘ Two,” or a Moment Before, Mr. Cilley Fired" spoken in debate in the House. Mr. Graves asked him whether that meant to disclaim any other ground. Mr Cilley repeated that he meant not to affirm or disclaim any other ground. ‘“‘Mr. Graves informed me that, upon this, he reported to his principal that Mr. Cilley not put his refusal to accept on the ground that James Watson Webb was not a gentleman, but upon the sole ground stated. My advices to him was that the reason expressed was sufficient, but some one else advised (whom I| am not and never was informed) that he ought to require Mr. Cilley to put his reason for declining in writing. I told him that was regular and proper, but advised him to the preferable course to report his own statement and submit it to Mr. Cilley for affirmance or contradiction: that as Mr. Cilley put his declining on the ground solely of irresponsibility, he wa justifiable in saying that he did not put it on the ground of Webb’s character or any other ground, and tha had no right to demand of him a disclaimer of any other ground. Upon this Mr. Graves drew a paper in sub stance, reciting his statement, and adding that, upon that, he had reported and would publish, if necessary, that Mr. Cilley had not declined on the ground that Webb was not a gentleman. What he did with that paper I am not and never was informed; but he returned it to me say- ing that he could not prevail on Mr. Cilley to affirm or to deny his statement, or to put his only reason assigned for declining in writing ‘I told him neither was necessary, as he had only to make and publish his statement that Mr. Cilley did not pu himself on the ground that Webb was not a gentleman, and

leave the latter t quiesce in or contradict his statement If he acquiesced in it, well; if not, it would raise an issue veracity between him and Mr. Cilley, and | was sure that Mr. Cilley would disclaim any impeachment of his, Grav: veracity, whilst he could easily explain any reservat his right to « xpress any ther reason but the one assigned

fact drawnachaller the ground that impeached his veracity, but after conference with me alone he asked me to meet him at Mr. Clay's room early in the evening After tea, I called with Mr. Graves on Mr. Clay, and already assembled there were Mr. Clay, Mr. John J. Crit tenden and Mr. Richard Menefee. The y were all consulted Mr. Graves handed to Mr. Clay the challenge he had written Mr. Clay said immediately that the call was not based or the true issues. Mr. Cilley had refused to disclaim personal exceptions to Webb and by the Code of Dueling Graves was Mr. Graves had in ore Mr. Cilley’s course impliedly, at least bound to demand such disclaimer, or stand in the shoes of his principal He cast aside the challenge drawn by Graves, and with his « hand cn drew the challeng

which was handed to Mr. Ci I immediatel bjected to the form drawn by Mr. C for th en hat put the call upon a pun which never i be and me was settled without blood; that if Mr. Graves put |} all on the point of his own veracity, Mr. Cilley had but to disclair that, and I was sure he would, and that ild end Grave interposition in the affair. Mr. Crittenden and Mr. Menefec sided with Mr. Cla Mr. Graves immediatels pied the paper written by Mr. Cla I i roved the form of challenge writt } r ss bear the 1 ‘ awn by Mr. Cla ated objectior It left no room for explanation and the meeting would neces f Messrs. Clay, Crittenden and Menefee all three protested with n for declining to act as second; and I persisted until Mr. Graves with great feeling rose erect or his feet from his chair, and said: ‘Mr. Wise, can you expect me to be governed by your counsel alone agai that ot both the Senators of my State and colleague int House « Re presentatives, Mr. Menefee, after a full hearing of your objections to the ground of challenge, and after they have been overruled by older heads than vour ow) If vou do he continued, with his finger pointed to me, ‘I call these colleagues to remember that when vou were absent fron your seat in the House, and from the « of Washington, |

took up your defense against an attack upon you by Mr Cilley and was ready to stand in vour place to meet any and all respon ibilitv for you Andt v | here say to you tl | have more confidence in your skill as second than | have in any other person; and if you will not serve me anc brought dead or wounded from the field, I call these ¢ men to witness that I shall attribute any disaster to me t

the want or absence of your skill and experience I was touched deeply by this appeal and said at ones with emotion: ‘Mr. Graves, if you put : for you on that ground, I am left no election. I will carry the challenge I did so the next morning, and eful to keep Mr Clav's <« mpra ph } and it was well | did so, as after events proved. You promptly brought the acceptance | Mr. Cilley and the terms of the duel to me at my roon I was alone, with my case of new Eng h nine-inch dueling I istols ope n, examining their order and onditior \ 1 quietly tapped at my door. I answered, ‘Come in,’ and I can see your honest old face 1 a you entered brusquely, saying: ‘Ha! You'll have 1 e for then You looked at the 7 stols and then } ded 1 the accept ance and tern I reserved any reply then, and after little chat about the ritle as a lawf Veapon and! vn rance where to procure a reliable ons i retired I sought Mr. Gra ind told him that I sh« lot to the rifle. He again took me to Mr. Cla At once Mr Clay said He is a Kentuckian and can never back fron rifle ‘That question settled, I ther ght delay; went Dawson's, and informed i that | required time to procure the proper rifle. The fact is, I tried every expedient objection and delay to avoid the duel, hoping that a littl time gained would cause a mediation of some sort, or arrest through Webb. That hope was ended by ir ger erous assistance to procure a weapon. After a rifle and every appurtenance was tendered and laid on 1 tabie, | could delay no longer. I could not reveal to you my motive to take time for procuring a weapon, and you made the mistake of supposir illy needed assistance to procure one, and ingenuc tendered one, which compelled me at once to obtain the best rifle in the cit ‘What occurred afterward, on the field and elsewher our joint and sever tatements made immediately after the duel sho But there was one subject of reproact to you and! f, which neither could explain with damaging our pr pa Mr. Graves had three second Mr. Crittenden, Mr. Menefee and myself; and Mr. Cilley had two advisor econd Mr. Duncan and M Bynun besid« yoursell Now,! tep was taken by me tt consultation and agreement with Messrs. Crittenden and j

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8 OMEWHERE in the distance a steam whistle blew. Tom Dominick raised his lazy- sweet voice enough to call to the foreman to ‘‘shut down for grub.”’ The huge spool of wire cable stood still; the drill ceased its grunting whirl; the high pine derrick quit its long yellow shiver. Then Tom, and ‘‘the Prince,’’ and Jo, and the fireman wiped some of the black oil from their hands with bunches of greasy cotton waste; the finishing touches they made on the sides of their overalls. They rubbed the slime from their high-laced boots on patches of grass, and were off under the pines to the boarding-house, a quarter of a mile away They had not gone far when they met Banty Jones, who had been sent to a repair shop to get a broken “elevator” mended. He was toting it with some difficulty and needed no urging to drop the heavy iron spider on the ground and adjourn for dinner. He gave the others no more than a look, but he laid a cordial hand on the shoulder of the Prince. It made the Prince uneasy, for something had risen to trouble the old friendship with Bant —a friendship that was the wonder of the oil-field, since Bant was admitted to be the toughest nut that ever fell from a hickory-tree, whereas the Prince well, they called him ‘‘the Prince."” No one would ever have called Bant Jones by sucha name. At his best he was rather tolerated than liked by the other men~—-except, of course, the Prince. Bant, sober, was lacking in most of the traces. But Bant, drunk! When Bant was in liquor he was ugly as a bronco with hydrophobia; his language was slime from the slush-pit; his temper spread and caught fire like the gas in a blow-off. Almost everything is forgiven to whisky; but there is a limit even to its prerogatives. A dozen times Bant had close shaves from being killed outright by the men he insulted in some peculiarly odious fashion. There is just one small and highly unpopular animal that Banty drunk could be likened to. So when Bant was under the weather they called him by that name. And ‘yet it was Banty Jones whom Bill Abbott had accepted as his best friend, and it was Banty Jones that gave the name of Prince to the young-eyed stranger from the far North, who had known a home on a quiet farm in Ohio. It was strange that Abbott should have drifted to this ragged edge of civili- zation. But, however he arrived, he brought an aroma of good places, firm principles and gentle ideas into a region where the acrid sinell of crude oil and the sharp stink of its gas pervaded the very brains of the fortune-hunters There was little thought here but immediate money and the immediate spend- ing of it. They were gam- bling for life, for wealth, staking everything on what should come out of the big “A Nice Enough Fella When He's Soba, But ——" THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Where Life is Marked Down Mabel’s ~ o — «4 Choice of Cowards PY RUPERT HUGHES grab-bag a thousand feet or more under the turf. The churning drill might bring up at any moment a great fortune inaroaring black geyser of oil, or a quick death in a wild release of screaming gas; or, worst of all, it might bring up nothing but the proof of another bad guess. With their eyes eternally fastened on a drill that twirled like a roulette wheel, even the men who had nothing at stake, the day-laborers on the crews, lived under the spell and control of luck, and knew the pangs if not the profits of high play. They were like the employees in a great gambling-house. But the Prince had seemed immune to the disease of the trade. He had never acquired an important thirst, and it gave him no pleasure to drink his own legs out from under him. No more did card-play entice him. He was a good loser, but he looked sad when he quit winner, and always tried to pay back what he had gained. Which caused much surprise and some indignation. And then the Prince’s language was a bit more elegant than that of the other men. It was not that he was in any sense highly educated, but that he had either learned more or forgotten less than the others in the scant time fortune had allotted them all at school. The Abbott boy could not help being an influence ina still, small way. As Banty Jones once put it: ‘*Hearin’ that kid talk, out heah amongst this gang of pirates, is like hearin’ the band at a dance-hall strike up ‘Home, Sweet Home,’ all of a suddent.”’ It hurt the Prince, at first, to work on Sundays, but he was forced to it. Gam- blers, like generals, cannot put off their game till Monday. Then the possession of twenty-one dollars at the end of his first week as an unskilled helper was still more unsettling to the Prince. He felt like an American millionaire in an Italian village. He threw coin about lavishly, treating everybody to everything that was for sale in the pine-box shops of the field-town. But soon he learned that the big wages were, as usual, confronted with big ex- penses; so he reverted to the cautiousness of his early training. Much of his money went North—tucked in letters urging his mother to buy her a new calico for herself, or a new suit of store-clo’es for paw, or brass-toed shoes for the youngsters. Even in the summery winter of Texas, where roses climbed and broke into bloom in January, he remembered that, in Ohio, spine-searching winds prowled between the farmhouse and the school And yet the Abbott boy always had ready cash. If a man on another rig got burned or crushed, the subscription list always caught Abbott’s name for as large a sum as the best. His own crew or his acquaintances at the boarding- house could always borrow of him. Nobody knew that better than Banty Jones. And he knew it from experience. He always ‘‘ borrowed,” and hardly ever returned—except that, sometimes on a Tues- day, he would come to the Prince and nobly pay in a dollar, to save his face when he knew he was going to need five ona Wednesday. Though the Prince did not care for cards or the wheel, he was always paying Banty Jones’ losses. But he never gave advice with his loans. He laughed a little, and that was all. Bant seemed almost never to win. The boys com- forted him with the proverb: ‘‘Onlucky at cyards is sho’ lucky at love.’’ He had, indeed, cut out everybody else in the field in winning the attention of the daughter of Mrs. Glenny, who kept the only two-story boarding-house in the field. Miss Mabel Glenny would have been counted plain on the handsome streets of any of the cities of Texas; but she was easily the best-looking among the few white women in the field-town. Her eyes were shiny; her teeth in good repair; her hair stayed in its pins; and she had a plump- ness and a pinkness about her that were highly disturbing to the mob of bachelors. Beauty is, after all, a relative quality, and Phryne was no more effective among the fair women of Athens than Mabel was in the oil-field town. But Bant was not handsome even here. And yet, as often happens, though the men could not see him at all, he had a way with the women. He could say things that would bring the blush-roses to their cheeks and make them snicker. And sometimes they would reach over and pat him, with an ‘‘Aw, you go on, Mr. Jones!"’ that made the other men green with envy. Bant felt so certain of his preéminence as a lady-allurer that he dared to make the Prince join his boarding-crew He introduced him with a flourish as ‘‘the whitest white man that ever worked a bailer,’’ and he used to sit with Mabel in the gloaming on Mrs. Glenny’s front porch and talk of little else but the Prince’s virtues. And so what was bound to happen happened. Miss Glenny began to believe all that Bant told her, and to look for herself. She stared at the Prince till he could hardly eat, and went into hot flashes every time he met her encouraging eyes. It just happened that at this very time Bant began a series of evening trips to the nearest city, where gambling was easier. So the deserted Ariadne invited the Prince to share the bench on the porch. And then the trouble began -- very softly and sweetly, as trouble usually begins. The Texan moon, those nights, was so dazzling that it turned even the shacks and tents into little lamp-lit homes, June 2, 1906

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Strange at the very noon after the betrothal Bant should lay a cordial hand on his shoulder as they walked toward Mrs. Glenny's for dinner! The Prince felt doul uncomfortable. In the first place, he had cut out Ba the love-game and he could not feel q e eas a In the second place Bant manner was full of or had the condescending unction of man about to neg loan. And the Prince had begun to look upon his ea rt ol an i i ¢ re ta | tt e) ‘ | i ‘ i advance i tr i cence of the borrower, he told th 4 h ot he would be for the use of five di daa I Prince said, with all the meekness of the mone lender ‘I’m terrible sorry, Bant, but I can't spare a blamed cent. I’ve got to begin to save now —for reasons. Fact I'd be mighty obliged if you could let me have a little of what's comin’ to me.” Bant faded away as if he had been gassed. He had nothing to say at the table, and he did not see how out- rageously Miss Glenny was slighting him for the Prine« Just Grabbed Her and Hugged Her Till She Squealed the derricks into tall spires of beauty, and the mud-wallow roads and oil- streaked fields into a floor of porphyry. Just about this time, too, the Prince had begun to mope for Ohio, and the pretty girls he had known there. He had begun to think of sociables and straw-rides, of starry lanes after prayer- meeting, or of sunbonneted apple- cheeks driving cows home and calling, ‘*Hello, you!”’ in a way that sounded pleasant along toward supper-time. And here he was in the mischief- making tropical moonlight, close beside a pretty girl whose shadowy arm kept brushing his, who would emphasize her phrases by tapping his hard hand with her soft fingers, and who delighted in telling the Prince how fine everybody thought he was, including maw, and how kind of lonesome it must be living alone the way he done, and still it wasn’t no worse for a man living by hisself than for a girl—and—but~— after all such was life. The charm of the least ugly woman in the neighborhood was working its an- cient way. Fate is Proximity, and the ingenuous lad was undergoing all the torments that loneliness, fascination, and a virulent conscience could conspire to inflict. He knew that Bant had staked out a priorclaim on Miss Glenny’s heart. And yet Bant had done likewise with all of the unattached women in the region. Besides, Bant had gone away and left the claim deserted. And how could a man refuse when a girl insisted on his sitting on the porch with her ? Finally, he found in himself the H ‘ t d panté me ed m he It was like the th Hy Va a ipy ati neat ne " } h wh t Vas put awa B t t OSS t t r \ t . 6 n WY r ( i a AO! \ i N } he dra ! } I al Rar ina na i Ba 0) I he Prince wa to « 1 he Disable |} ared Tor Hul You war ll hin Whew ao ento me, ma be said Ton il i1evva have call tew la-a i man ote « heah, don't vou leave nothin’ f nobod I the ndataka Man that's just wounded 'll sh git well And soon’s he'll hunt fo’ you till he Ne I s he find u he li l ne th et said Bant Cre he Prin exe ed I don't much hanker after that rd | ' ‘ } here | me from we fig! with f ’ al na i il i peacea A orr sop WI at j i a au a Tt i a ‘ ee courage to demand of Mabel why, if she loved Banty Jones, she was so nice to another fellow. Miss Glenny laughed: ‘“What? Me love Banty Jo-ones? A trashy scrub like him! Well, I reckon hahdly. He’s no mo’ to me than the dust unda ma feet. A nice enough fella when he’s soba, but a bawn gambla, a hopeless drinka and a puffeck fiend when he’s in liquor— well, 1 reckon not.” Then the Prince sang Banty’s praises as loyally as Bant had sung his. But Miss Glenny only laughed, and mecked. When he grew too eloquent she said: ‘*Ef you say one mo’ wud abote that man, I declare I'll have to go in the ho’se and bid yuh good-evenin’.”’ And that was the end of the Prince’s resources. He sat tupefied at the clear field before him, and made no effort to claim it in place of the dispossessed. But the next even- ing Miss Glenny turned her witcheries on him again, and he had no defense. His love for her surged up like a gusher coming in. It tore away all obstacles, all valves, checks, stoppages——it caught fire and burned with a rage that suffocated him. He could find no words. He just grabbed her and hugged her till she squealed. He never dreamed of taking her kisses without a promise of marriage. So they agreed to be engaged, and resolved that as soon as he could save enough they would go to the city and call upon a minister. The Oklahoma Man Spat Contemplatively, and Murmured “ The Joke's on Bant, Boys” That afternoon as the crew stood about the derrick watching the everlasting eddy of the drill, and the milk) gruel of water and flint-dust that flowed out of the pips but showed no promising smooches of oil, the conversation turned to the latest killing that had lightened the monotor of the oil-field. Suddenly the Prince blurted out a direct “Say, Tom, did you ever kill a man? Tom threw him a look more of amazement than wrat} and answered: ‘‘That’s a subjeck we-all don’t discus Prince. When aman is crowded into a corna and cain't ¢ out except ova the daid body of a fellow-human, it’s a thing he tries to forgit —leastways, while he's awake.” **Oh, excuse me, Tom,” said the Prine: ‘Don't let that worry you, ma boy he went on discussing the brilliant mobility with whic victor in the duel under discussion had got out his gun and emptied it before the other man had finished his declaration of war. It reminded the Prince of the Japanese navy at Port Arthur, fastening its ultimatum on the nose of a tor- pedo. He had never seen a shooting-s« rape, orevena dead baby; and he felt the same bland academic interest in tragedy that a girl takes in the statistics of a St. Bartholo- mew’s Day or an Antietam. drawled Tor and The Contempt of a Sweetheart or the Grief of a Mother — Which Has Been the Harder for a Man to Bear, Since Time Was?

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10 ef he’s goin’ to perdooce a hankychef or a bottle of per- fumery. It’s yo’ business to unlimba an’ git into action.” The Prince grew even more serious. He broke out: ‘Why, I’ve been brought up to believe it’s almost better to be killed than to kill anybody!” Tom grinned at the grinning Bant, and said: ‘‘ Well, ef that’s yo’ pref’rence, Prince, they’s plenty o’ people daown heah that'll be willin’ tew consult yo’ idiotsinkersies. But don't git oneasy too premacho’. Most men in Texas grows gray an’ dies in they beds. But we-all air aout in the oil- fiel’. The Rangehs is few an’ fah apaht. Sometimes it’s up to aman to be his own jedge and his own cote, and take keer o’ his own seff. Most of what they call ‘bad men’ begun very innocent, and made their first killin’ very much against their will.” “TI suppose life is sort of cheap here, eh?”’ ‘No, it hain’t exackly cheap. But it’s kind of marked daown, eh, Bant?”’ ‘That's what!" said Bant. ‘A two-dolla’ life is wuth abote one-ninety-nine in the oil business. So paste Tom's advice in yo’ hat, Prince. Ef trouble comes yo’ way shoot.” Tom broke off the dispute: ‘‘ And naow, Prince, s’posin’ you rustle abote a bit an’ bring me a joint o’ thet fo’-inch pipe. We'll be needin’ it right soon.” The Prince, glad to escape from so much solemnity of thought, left the derrick and hurried, by a devious, slippery, oil-smeared path, to a pile of iron pipes of various sizes and degrees of rust. He was back in a moment, face flushed and eager. ‘Say, Tom, there's a puff adder about eleven yards long layin’ in a neat coil on top of those pipes. Lend me your gun, will you?” ‘*You'll find it in the shack, in the 'hind pocket o’ my good pants."’ The Prince was gone, and back, with the same limber zest that marked his every movement. Bant, always glad of agamble, sang out: *‘ Bet you a good fi’-cent seegah you kain't hit him from heah.”’ ‘Better not; you'll lose,’’ said the Prince. practicin’ a heap.” But Bant was game, and the Prince stepped to the edge of the derrick-floor, raised the automatic .38, and, with hardly a pause for aim, let fly. There wasasharp snap; he restored the revolver to the shack, then went ploughing through the slush and greasy mud to the heap of pipe, whence he called back: ‘‘I took his head off as clean as a whistle. He's kickin’ up an awful rumpus; but he don’t know it. You owe mea good five-center, Bant.” ‘He's willin’ to go right on owin’ it to you, ain't you, Bant?”’ laughed Tom, who had known Bant to his own cost. Bant only grunted, but the Prince said, ‘‘I’m not wor- yin’,"’and brought in the joint of pipe. When he returned Tom looked up with a twinkle in his little gray eyes ‘Thought you didn’t believe in killin’. Why didn't you take yo’ fist to Mista Adda?” ‘It’s different with snakes,”’ said the Prince with an orthodox earnestness. ‘‘The Bible says it’s our duty to kill ‘em. If it wasn't for snakes we wouldn't have been evicted from Paradise.” **And ef it wasn’t fer human snakes we-all'd be back in Pa'adise, ‘stid o’ gropin’ raound fer oil daown abote the chimbley-tops of the Old Hairy,’’ said Tom. The next day at dinner the red-headed teamster from Oklahoma remarked that Mabel’s right hand, as it passed a plate of fried catfish, was flourishing a solid gold ring with a real garnet in it. Mabel tittered and blushed and darted back into the kitchen. Tom wanted to know what fool had gone and blew his money in on joolery for Mabel Glenny. Everybody looked at everybody else, and everybody saw that one young man was red as blazes and was putting vinegar into his bow] of milk-and-cornbread with a hand that shook like the voice of a goat. The laugh that went up nearly took the roof off. Every- body joined in but two; for Banty Jones now learned for the first time that proverbs can lie and that a man can be versatile in bad luck. He left the table early. The next day everybody in the field was guying Banty Jones and the Prince indiscriminately. The Prince soon won mercy by the honest confusion in his manner, the sheer boyish delight that flamed in his eyes above the crimson of his blush. Bant, however, answered laughter with wrath and mirth with profanity. But public jokes are rare in the oil regions, and the men made the most of this morsel ‘“‘Bant, you remind me of old Cyunnel Clayborne,”’ said Tom. ‘He sunk forty-‘leven wildcat wells, ev’y one of 'em dryer ’n a bone. Yutha day he brought in a gusha that flowed ova the crown-block of the derrick began with abote twelve thousan’ barrels a day. lata, his next do’ neighbo’ brings in a fifteen-thousan’- barrel gusha, that takes ev’y drop of Cyunnel Clayborne’s oil not a drop could he git even with a pump. ’Pears like Banty Jones has had his gusha stole offen him. An’ there ain’t no use pumpin’, Bant.”’ Bant roared, ‘‘Tom Dominick, you can go plumb to ": but Tom only laughed the harder, and said: **Looks like I'd have to, befo’ I strike oil.”’ **T’ve been abote Two days THE SATURDAY EVENING POST It hurt the Prince to see his old chum making so bad a loser. He tried again and again to explain, but Bant choked him off with sneers and threats. Bant kept away from the boarding-house, too, but the jokes still flew from every derrick he passed. He stood it till the next pay-day ; then he announced his determination to leave the field. He bade his old crew a sardonic farewell. The Prince, with much embarrassment, asked Bant to come aside for a word in private. But Bant answered: ‘*What you gotta say to me, Abbott, you can say befo’ everybody. You went behin’ my back to steal my gyurl. Now tell me what you gotta say to my face.” The Prince remembered the text of the soft answer and the wrath, and said: ‘‘ You seem kind of set on thinking hard of me, Bant. You owe me a good deal, too, but I suppose I deserve to lose it and the friend that usually goes with borrowed money. I just want to remind you, though, that you owe Mrs. Glenny thirty-five dollars for board an’ keep. She’s getting along in years, Bant, and she’shad hardluck. Don’t forget to pay her before yougo.” Bant spat scurrilously, and sneered: ‘‘Mind yo’ own business, you white-livered Sunday-school hypocrite.” Before he could check his resentment the Prince had smashed the slander on Bant’s teeth. Bant’s head went against a post of the derrick, his feet slithered on the greasy floor, and he whirled over into the slush-pit. No hand reached to help him. He scrambled out, white-slimed to the waist. He looked wildly about and saw at his feet a big monkey-wrench; he picked it up and rushed toward the Prince, who found noth- ing better than a loose plank. He had just time and room to swing it round, and it caught Bant on the side of the head. There was a short nail in the plank. When Bant rose there was blood on his face. The Prince was overcome with regret, and, after the manner of his breed, came forward, helped the dazed Bant to his feet, and said: “Come, Bant, let’s call quits. Shake!” Bant glared at the outstretched hand, knocked it aside, and instinctively reached for his hip-pocket. The Priuce suffered all the anguish that the thought of a sudden death can bring to youth. He felt horribly unready. Then he saw that Bant had no revolver. Life came back to him, as if he had lost it and found it again. It was like pitching headlong over a cliff in a nightmare, and falling, falling —to unimaginable depths and calamity, only to wake in the familiar pillows, and slowly recover acquaintance with the dear old chromos on the wall and the sweet back-yard view through the dirty window. As the Prince realized that he was still alive the rapture of mere existence swept over him like a gush of music. He had only a vague notion of Banty Jones moving off in vain wrath, tripping on the rusty pipe-lines, stumbling through scummy gutters of mud, and turning to call back again and again: “T’ll fix you for this! this!”’ The aftermath of the storm was seasickness. The Prince, unused to rage, was so Weak that he would have fallen across the ratchet chain on the drum if Tom had not caught him and eased him to the floor. There was a while of silence among the crew. Nobody spoke. Only, the drill snored like a sleepy pig. At length Jo spoke anxiously: ‘‘Do you s’pose Bant means to shoot the Prince?” ‘‘They’s no tellin’,”’ said Tom with unnatural grimness. ‘*T wisht he’d say somethin’ to me so’s I could kill him. I reckon the coroner’s jury would plumb give me a vote o’ thanks.” An hour later the red-headed teamster from Oklahoma drove by. He checked his mules in the knee-deep mud of the scandalous road, and hailed the crew. **What’s all this heah row abote, Tom? Bant Jones is down to Daddy Moses’ place, liquorin’ up, an’ swearin’ he’s goin’ to have the Prince's life. He's got a .45, an’ every chamber is loaded. Nobody dast take it away; he’s power- ful ugly.” ‘Why don't one of the Rangehs nab him?” Jo asked. “Why, the Rangehs was called up to Hempstead this moanin’ where a Congressman and most of the prominent citizens had some gun-play, and air expectin’ mo’.” Tom rose and went toward his cabin, pausing to call back to the teamster: ‘‘Say, Nat, if you see Bant Jones again, you tell him, for me, that I got my old automatic .38 in my pants’ pocket, an’ any time he gits down by my derrick I'll be tickleder’n a boy with a tin top to fill him so full o’ soft-nosed bullets that he'll be wuth right smart at a junk shop. He ain't got half what's comin’ to him yit, Bant ain't. He'll find the rest waitin’ fer him heah!”’ The teamster laughed. ‘All right, Tom, I'll tell him. Git ap!"’ And he lashed his mules to their task. The crew went on with their business, all of them eying the Prince studiously. They were wondering what stuff he was made of. Now was the time to tell. He was back at his work, but his knees were wobbly and his look was queasy. Tom said, to give him a little brace, ‘‘ Bant ain't got you skeered, Prince, has he? I nevva knowed you to be skeered of nobody or nothin’ befo’.”’ See if I don’t. I'll fix you for June 2, 1906 “‘T ain’t afraid of Bant Jones the best day he ever walked. But he won’t fight fair. He packs a gun, and I haven't got one.” ‘Oh, is that all? I'll loan you this one.” ‘‘But I don’t want to shoot anybody, Tom! Scott! what’d my mother say if I killed a man?” Tom eyed the Prince narrowly, and said in a low tone: ‘‘What’d yo’ motha say ef a man killed you? Think of that.” But the Prince was only the more distracted. He flung his head wildly, and cried: ‘‘Oh, I don’t want to think! I guess I’d better go home, Tom. This place is too hot for me.” “Spoke like a brave man!” thundered Tom. ‘‘Home you go, young fella. Yo’ job stops right heah. I won't employ no lady’s maids round my rig. "Tain’t respect- able.” Under the acid of Tom’s contempt the Prince's face took on a look of such abject suffering that the old man’s heart was touched. He said: ‘‘Aw, I was only foolin,’ Prince. You're only a kid yet. We-all must he’p you through this streak of trouble. Next time you'll do us mo’ proud. Jo, you take the Prince ova to yo’ bodein’-ho’se for suppa and sleep to-night. Bant won’t look there for him, and, by to-morra, he’ll be ote o’ town, or else he’ll be soba an’ ashamed.” When they knocked off work the Prince went with Jo as he was told. The situation was full of strange menace. He was afraid of it, terribly afraid. He felt that Bant might step out from behind any of the numberless trees they passed and shoot him down like a dog. Every derrick was a perfect ambush for a murderer. Every footfall he heard back of him sent through him a feeling as if centipedes were running over his shoulder-blades. He knew that he was a coward, but this knowledge only added shame to his panic. He dared not speak to Jo for fear his teeth would chatter on him. When at last he reached Jo’s tent he felt sure that Bant would be within, waiting for him. Once safely inside he dreaded the place. It was a trap; he suffocated, ached with absolute fear. If he had had a gun he would have turned it on himself. But Jo neither carried nor owned a weapon, being more afraid of a revolver than of any other danger. Jo’s fellow-boarders watched the Prince askance and with thin-veiied contempt. After supper they all wandered off to the field-town to enjoy the eloquence of Banty Jones, who was ramping about like one of, Homer's heroes telling man and Heaven what he was going to do to his enemy when he found him. Jo remained to comfort the Prince. Jo was a weakling, a notorious victim of bullies; his com- panionship and sympathy shamed the Prince more than anything else. Better death than this ignominy. He leaped to his feet with sudden desperation. ‘“Wheah yo’ goin’ naow?”’ said Jo anxiously. “T’m goin’ out and kill that yeller dog!”’ the Prince declared; then his knees loosened on him again and he sank down on a box. ‘*What’ll they do at home when they get the news?” he cried. ‘‘Isaw my mother once, Jo, when they brought word that my oldest sister was killed in a train-wreck. Oh, I can hear her choke, and just double up and drop! And they’re trying to drive me to break her heart again. And I can hear the neighbors holler to each other as their wagons pass in the road: ‘Hear about old man Abbott’s boy?’ They'll say, ‘Why, he shot a man down in Texas in a drunken brawl over a woman.’ Think of that, Jo! That'll be my epitaph: ‘He was hung for killing a man in a drunken brawl over a woman.’ And I’m only twenty years old! I haven’t even voted, and I’ve got to hang—just because of a drunken dog. ‘*But why should this happen to me, Jo? To me of all people! I’ve always tried to do the square thing by every- body, Jo. And now I’ve got to kill or be killed — or what’s worse, sneak out like a dirty coward. What does God mean by doing such things? That’s what I want to know, what does He mean? What does God want me to do? What would God do in my place, do you think? If my getting killed would do anybody any good, why, I wouldn't mind; but just to be shot like a chipmunk, Jo —it’s awful! What ought a fellow to do?” Jo's poor brain could think of no comfort for such a prob- lem as this. He satin scupid misery. The Prince relapsed into silence, then fell to thinking aloud ‘*Wonder which is the biggest coward, Jo: a fellow that would rather stand anything, rather run off and hide any- where, than to bring disgrace on his home-folks, or a fellow that would rather commit murder than be called a coward? I guess I'd rather spare my mother’s feelings than my own or anybody else’s.”’ This thought, that he was enduring something for the sake of the one who had always been enduring for him, calmed the Prince profoundly and gave him the sense of contempt for public contempt that exalts a martyr. An hour or two later Tom strolled in with a budget of news. ‘‘Banty Jones was to the Glenny bodein’-ho’se for suppa. Bant has hunted high an’ low for you, Prince. I told him to keep away from my rig, or I'd takea hand. He (Continued on Page 1 Great

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ce Mm HE first person he en- countered in the gun- room was Quarrier, who favored him with an expressionless stare, then with a bow, quite perfunctory and non-committal. It was plain enough that he had not expected to meet Siward at Shotover House. Kemp Ferrall, a dark, stocky, active man of forty, was in the act of draining a glass, when, through the bottom, he caught sight of Siward. He finished in a gulp, and ad- vanced, one muscular hand outstretched: ‘‘ Hello, Stephen! Heard you'd arrived and bolted with Sylvia Landis! That's all right, too, but you should have come for the opening day. Lots of native woodcock—eh, Blinky?’’ turning to Lord Alderdene; and again to Siward: ‘You know all these fellows -Mortimer yonder * There was the slightest ring in his voice; and Leroy Mortimer, red-necked, bulky and heavy-eyed, emptied his glass and came over, followed by Lord Alderdene blinking madly through his shooting-goggles and showing all his teeth like a pointer witha ‘‘tic.’’ Captain Voucher, a gentleman with the vivid coloring of a healthy groom on a cold day, came up, fol- lowed by the Page boys, Willie and Gordon, who shook hands shyly, enchanted to be on easy terms with the noto- rious Mr. Siward. And last of all Tom O’Hara arrived, reeking of the saddle and clinking a pair of trooper’s spurs over the floor — relics of his bloodless Porto Rico campaign with Squadron A. It was patent to every man present that the Kemp Ferralls had determined to ignore Siward’'s recent foolish- ness, which indicated that he might reasonably expect the continued good-will of several sets the orbits of which inter- sected in the social system of his native city. Indeed, the few qualified to snub him cared nothing about the matter, and it was not likely that anybody else would take the ini- tiative in being disagreeable to a young man the fortunes and misfortunes of whose race were part of the history of Manhattan Island. Siwards, good or bad, were a matter of course in New York. “This salt air keeps one thirsty,’’ he observed to Ferrall ; then something in his host's expression arrested the glass at his lips. He had already been using the decanter a good deal ; except Mortimer nobody was doing that sort of thing as freely ashe. He set his glass on the table thoughtfully; a tinge of color had crept into his lean cheeks. Ferrall, too, suddenly uncomfortable, stood up saying something about dressing; several men arose a trifle stiffly, feeling in every joint the result of the first day's shooting after all those idle months. Mortimer got up with an un- feigned groan; Siward followed, leaving his glass untouched. One or two other men came in from the billiard-room. All greeted Siward amiably— all excepting one who may not have seen him—an elderly, pink, soft gentleman with white downy chop-whiskers and the profile of a benevolent buck rabbit. ‘*How do you do, Major Belwether?”’ low voice, without offering his hand Then Major Belwether saw him, bless you! yes indeed! And though Siward continued not to offer his hand, Major Belwether meant to have it, bless your heart! And he fussed and fussed and beamed cordiality until he secured it in his plump white fingers and pressed it effusively. said Siward ina THE SATURDAY EVENING POST i THE FIGHTING CHANCE Shotover House AUTHOR OF 704 £2. ETC. There was something about his soft, warm hands which had always reminded Siward of the temperature and tex- ture of a newly -hatched bird. It had been some time since he had shaken hands with Major Belwether; it was appar- ent that the bird had not aged any. ‘‘And now for the shooting!"’ said the Major with an arch smile. ‘‘Now for the stag at bay and the winding horn Where sleeps the moon On Mona’s rill Eh, Siward? And here’s to the hound With his nose upon the ground Eh, my boy? That reminds me of a story He chuckled and chuckled, his lambent eyes suffused with mirth; and slipping his arm through the pivot-sleeve of Lord Alderdene’s shooting-jacket, hooking the other in Siward’s reluctant elbow, and driving Mortimer ahead of him, he went garrulously away up the stairs, his lordship’s bandy little legs trotting beside him, the soaking gaiter and shoes slopping at every step Mortimer, his mottled skin now sufficiently distended, greeted the story with a vawn from ear to ear; his lordship blinking madly, burst into that remarkable laugh which seemed to reveal the absence of certain vocal chords re qui site to perfect harmony; and Siward smiled in his listless, pleasant way, and turned off down his corridor, unaware that the Sagamore pup was following close at his heels until he heard Quarrier’s even, colorless voice Ferrall,v you be good enough to send Sagamore to your kennels “Oh—he’s your dog! I forgot,” said Siward, turning around. Quarrier looked at him, pausing a moment “*Yes,”’ he said coldly; ‘he’s my dog.” For a fraction of a second the two men’s eyes encoun tered; then Siward glanced at the dog, and turned on } heel with the slightest shrug And that is all there was to the incident —an anxious, perplexed puppy lugged of a servant, turning, jerking, twisting, resisting, loo piteously back as his unwilling feet slid over the* polished floor. So Siward walked on alone wing to his room overlooking the sea. He sat down on the edge of his bed, glancing at the clothing laid out for hir He felt tired and disinclined for the exertion of undressing The shades were up; night quicksilvered the window through the long eastern panes so that they were like a dark mirror reflecting his face He inspected his darkened features curiously net rred and sombre-tinted visage returned the staré ‘*‘Not a man at all— the shadow of a man,” he said aloud “‘with no will, no courage always avoiding conclusions, alway chance is there for a man like that ? As one who raises a glass to drink wine and unexpectedly finds water, he shrugged his shoulders di always putting off the batth skulking What rustedly and got By ROBERT W. CHAMBERS © ittuitcnensres knocked and entered, finding a seat on the bed Stephen,” he said bluntly | haven't seen you since that break of vours at the club.” Rotten, wasn’t it commented Siward. tying his ti ‘Perfectly. Of course it doesn't make any difference to Grace or to me, but | faney vou've already heard from it **Oh, yes. All I care about is how my mother took it ‘Of course: she was cut up, i suppose Yes, you know how she would lo it a thing of that sort not that any of the nine-and-seventy jarring s« would care, but those few thousands invading the edge butting in half or three-quarters inside ire the people who can't afford to overlook the ictim of a fashionable club’s displeasure those, and a woman like 1 mother and several other decent-minded people who happen to count In town Ferrall, his legs swinging busily, thought again; then iW was the girl, Stepher I don't think the papers mentioned her nami said Siward gravel Oh — I beg your pardon; | thought she was some not« mous actress every bod sald so Who were those callow fools who put you up to it Never mind if you don’t care to tell But it strike me the ire candidates for club discipline as well as you. It was up to them to face the governors, | think No, I think not Ferrall, legs swinging busily, considered hin Too bad he mused the need not have dropped 1 Oh. thev had t But as long the Lenox " . uti l car e that dow Ferrall nodde I came , , , | (race ( nd ( efore dint t } f | ‘Why, ve if M | He wal 10 >the dest i dow rew a blank sheet of paper t } } pen, drew ca ‘ } rd } y iu tu J ‘ al I ha the addest of 1 Put Vand | } } : } } ler ( | } P |’ at isa } , } Wi I D 1 to | s ard, | But ‘‘Wa } ed | } ‘ cr i | i rT r Sj j } it} , ! , » i ! line hree we le t Mr La M ( ! th he , eap-li} ' ack ha } lanted er ig? Rena I | ‘ hbiond, and rathe t " Mi Cait ‘ pa ’ ‘ ! the Page | W ‘ ( } } j

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12 interested, and having a splendid time with any woman who could afford the intellectual leisure. Siward spoke pleasantly to them all. Other people drifted down-—-Marion Page, who looked like a schoolmarm and rode like a demon; Eileen Shannon, pink and white as a thorn blossom, with the deuce to pay lurking in her gray eyes; Kathryn Tassel and Mrs. Vendenning, whom he did not know, and finally his hostess, Grace Ferrall, with her piquant, almost boyish, freckied face, and sweet, frank eyes, and the figure of an adolescent. She gave Siward one pretty sun-browned hand and laid the other above his, holding it a moment in her light clasp. “Stephen! Stephen!’ she said under her breath, ‘‘it’s because I’ve a few things to scold you about that I’ve asked you to Shotover.”’ ‘IT suppose I know,” he said. ‘‘T should hope you do. I'vea letter to-night from your mother.” ‘From my mother?” “I want you to go over it—with me—if we can find a minute afterdinner.”” She released his hand, turning partly around: ‘“‘Kemp, dinner’s been announced, so cut that dog story in two! Will you give me your arm, Major Bel- wether? Howard!’’—to her cousin, Mr. Quarrier, who turned from Miss Landis to listen—‘‘ will you please try to recollect whom you are to take in—and do it?” And, as she passed Siward, in a low voice, mischievous and slangy : “Sylvia Landis for yours—as she says she didn’t have enough of vou on the cliffs.” The others appeared to know how to pair according to some previous notice. Siward turned to Sylvia Landis with the pleasure of his good fortune so plainly visible in his face that her own brightened in response. “You see,” she said gayly, ‘‘you cannot escape me. There is no use in looking wildly at Agatha Caithness” he wasn’t—‘‘or pretending you’re pleased,” slipping her rounded, bare arm through the arm he offered. ‘‘ You can’t jruess what I've done to-night — nobody can guess except Grace Ferrall and one other person. And if you try to look happy beside me, I may tell you -oh, yes; I’ve done two things: I have your dog for you!”’ ‘‘Not Sagamore?’’ he said incredulously as he was seating her ‘‘Certainly Sagamore. I said to Mr. Quarrier, ‘I want Sagamore,’ and when he tried to give him to me I made him take my check. Now you may draw another for me at your eisure, Mr. Siward. Tell me, are you pleased ?’’~ for she was looking for the troubled hesitation in his face and she saw it dawning. ‘Mr. Quarrier doesn't like me, you knew ‘‘But J do,” she said coolly. ‘‘I told him how much pleasure it would give me. That is sufficient —is it not? for every body concerned.” ‘*He knew that you meant to *‘No, that concerns only youand me. Are you trying to spoil niy pleasure in what I have done?”’ *‘T can’t take the dog, Miss Landis “Oh,” she said, vexed; ‘‘I had no idea you were vin- dictive!"’ There was a silence; he bent forward a trifle, gravely scrutinizing a ‘‘hand-painted’”’ name-card, though it might not have astonished him to learn that somebody's foot had held the brush. Somewhere in the vicinity Grace Ferrall had discovered a woman who supported dozens of relatives by painting that sort of thing for the summer resi- dents at Vermilion Point down the coast. So being chari- table she left an order, and being thrifty, insisted on using the cards in spite of her husband's gibes. People were now inspecting them with more or less curi- osity; Siward found his “‘ hand-painting”’ so unattractive that he had just tipped it over to avoid seeing it when a burst of laughter from Lord Alderdene made everybody turn. Mrs. Vendenning was laughing; so was Rena Bon- nesdel, looking over Quarrier’s shoulder at a card he was holding — not one of the “‘hand'’-decorated, but a sheet of notepaper containing a drawing of a man rushing after a gun-shy dog The extraordinary cackling laughter of his lordship obliterated other sounds for a while; Rena Bonnesdel possessed herself of the drawing and held it up amid a shout f laughter. And, to his excessive annoyance, Siward saw that, unconsciously, he had caricatured Quarrier-—Fer- rall's malicious request for a Vandyke beard making the -aricature dreadfully apparent Quarrier had at first flushed up; then he forced a smile; but his symmetrical features were never cordial when he smiled “Who ‘on earth did that whispered Sylvia Landis apprehensively. ‘‘ Mr. Quarrier dislikes that sort of thing but of course he'll take it well.”’ ** Did he ever chase his own dog?"’ his lip ‘*Yes—so asked Siward, biting Blinky says—in the Carolinas last It’s Blinky —that’'s his notion of humor. Did you ever hear such a laugh? No wonder Mr. Quarrier is annoyed.” The gay uproar had partly subsided, renewed here and there as the sketch was passed along, and finally, making the circle, returned like a bad penny to Quarrier. He season THE SATURDAY EVENING POST smiled again, symmetrically, as he received it, nodding his compliments to Alderdene. *‘Oh, no,” cackled his lordship; ‘‘I didn’t draw it, old chap!” “Nor I! “Nor I table. *“‘T didn’t do it!” said Sylvia gravely, looking across at Quarrier. And suddenly Quarrier’s large, handsome eyes met Siward’s for the briefest fraction of a second, then were averted. But into his face there crept an expressionless pallor that did not escape Siward—no, nor Sylvia Landis. Presently under cover of a rapid fire of chatter she said: ** Did you draw that?” “*Yes; I had no idea it was meant for him. You may imagine how likely I'd be to take any liberty with a man who already dislikes me.” ** But it resembles him —in a very dreadful way.” “I know it. You must take my word for what I have told you.” She looked up at him: “Ido.” Then: “It’sa pity; Mr. Quarrier does not consider such things humorous. He—he is very sensitive. . . . Oh, I wish that fool English- man had been in Ballyhoo!”’ *‘But he didn’t do it!” “No, but he put you up to it—or Grace Ferrall did. I wish Grace would let Mr. Quarrier alone; she has always been perfectly possessed to plague him; she seems unable to take him serious!y, and he simply hates it. I don’t think he’d tolerate her if she were not his cousin.” “I’m awfully sorry,” was all Siward said; and for a while he gloomily busied himself with whatever was brought to him. ** Don’t look that way,’ came a low voice beside him. “‘Do I show everything as plainly as that?” he asked curiously. “I seem to read you—-sometimes.” “It’s very nice of you,” he said. “Nice?” “To look at me—now and then.” ‘Oh,” she cried resentfully, ‘don’t be grateful!” **T—really am not, you know,” he said, laughing. “That,’’ she rejoined slowly, ‘‘is the truth. You say conventional things in a manner —in an agreeably personal manner that interests women. But you are not grateful to anybody for anything; you are indifferent, and you can’t help being nice to people, so—some day—some girl will think you are grateful, and will have a miserable time of it.”’ ‘Miserable time?” “Waiting for you to say what never will enter your head to say.” You mean I —I 2 “Flirt? No, I mean that you don’t flirt; that you are always dreamily occupied with your own affairs, from which listlessly congenial occupation, when drawn, you are so unexpectedly nice that a girl immediately desires to see how nice you can be.”’ ‘‘What a charming indictment you draw!” “It’s a grave one, I assure you. I've been talking about you to Grace Ferrall; I asked to be placed beside you at dinner; I told her I hadn't had half enough of you on the cliff. Now what do you think of yourself for being too nice to a susceptible girl?” They both were laughing now; several people glanced at them, smiling in sympathy. Alderdene took that oppor- tunity to revert to the sketch, furnishing a specimen of his own inimitable laughter as a running accompaniment to the story of Quarrier and his dog in North Carolina, until he had everybody, as usual, laughing, not at the story but at him—all of which demonstration was bitterly offensive to Quarrier. He turned his eyes once on Miss Landis and on Siward, then dropped them. The hostess arose; a rustle and flurry of silk and lace and the scraping of chairs, a lingering word or laugh, and the color vanished from the room, leaving a circle of men in black standing around the table. Here and there a man bolted his coffee and strolled out to the gun-room. Ferrall, gesticulating vigorously, re- sumed his dog story to Captain Voucher; Belwether buttonholed Alderdene and bored him with an intermi- nably facetious taie until that nobleman, threatened with maxillary dislocation, fairly wrenched himself loose. ‘‘Ass!"’ muttered Alderdene, pattering about the room in his big, shiny pumps Bridge, Captain?" asked Mortiiner. **Certainly,”’ said Captain Voucher briskly. “T'll go and shoo the Major into the gun-room,”’ ob- served Ferrall—‘' unless woking questioningly at Siward ‘“T've a date with vour wife,” strolling toward the hall. About the rooms were distributed girls en téte-a-téte, girls eating bonbons and watching the cards—-among them Sylvia Landis, hands loosely clasped behind her, standing at Quarrier’s elbow to observe and profit by an expert performance. As Siward strolled in she raised her dainty head for an instant, smiled in silence, and resumed a study of her fiancé’s game. I only wish I could,’’ added Captain Voucher. nor 1—who did it?” ran the chorus along the ‘ observed that young man, June 2, 1906 A moment later, when Quarrier had emerged brilliantly from the mélée, she looked up again, triumphantly, sup- posing Siward was lingering somewhere waiting to join her; and she was just a trifle surprised and disappointed to find him nowhere in sight. She had wished him to observe the brilliancy of Mr. Quarrier’s game. But Siward, outside on the veranda, was saying at that moment to his hostess: ‘‘I shall be very glad to read my mother’s letter at any time you choose.” “It must be later, Stephen. I’m to cut in when Kemp sends forme. He has a lot of letters to attend to. Tell me, what do you think of Sylvia Landis?” ‘*‘T like her, of course,’’ he replied pleasantly. Grace Ferrall stood thinking a moment: ‘‘That sketch you made proved a great success, didn’t it?’’ And she laughed under her breath. “Didit? Ithought Mr. Quarrier seemed annoyed ae ‘‘Really? What a muff that cousin of mine is! He's such a muff, you know, that the very sight of his pointed beard and pompadour hair and his complacency sets me in fidgets to stir him up.” “T don’t think you’d best use me for the stick next time,” said Siward. *‘He’s not my cousin, you know.” Mrs. Ferrall shrugged her boyish shoulders: ‘‘By the way,” she said curiously, ‘‘who was that girl?”’ ‘‘What girl?”’ he asked coolly, looking at his hostess, now the very incarnation of delicate mockery with her pretty, laughing mouth, her boyish sunburn and freckles. ‘‘Nonsense! Do you think I’m going to let you off without some sort of confession? If I had time now—but I haven’t. Kemp has business letters: he’ll be furious, so I’ve got to take his cards.” She retreated backward with a gay nod of malice; turned to enter the house, and met Sylvia Landis face to face in the hallway. ‘**You minx!”’ she whispered; ‘‘aren’t you ashamed ?”’ “‘Very much, dear. What for?” And catching sight of Siward outside in the starlight, Sylvia divined perhaps something of her hostess’ meaning, for she laughed uneasily, like a child who winces under a stern eye. ‘*You don’t suppose for a moment,” she began, ‘‘that I have = ‘Yes, Ido. You always do.” ‘Not with that sort of man,” “he won't.” Mrs. Ferrall regarded her suspiciously: pick out exactly the wrong man to play with They had moved back side by side into the hall, the hostess’ arm linked in the arm of the younger girl. ‘‘The wrong man?” repeated Sylvia, instinctively free- ing her arm, her straight brows beginning to bend inward. “IT didn’t mean that—exactly. You know how much I care for his mother—and for him.” The obstinate downward trend of the brows, the narrowing blue gaze signaled mutiny to the woman who knew her so well. ‘‘What is so wrong with Mr. Siward?”’ she asked. ‘‘Nothing. There was an affair “This spring intown? I knowit. Is that all?’ ‘‘Yes—for the present,” replied Grace Ferrall uncom- fortably; then: ‘‘ For goodness’ sake, Sylvia, don’t cross- examine me that way! I care a great deal for that boy she returned naively; ‘You always “So do I. I’ve made him take my dog.” There was an abrupt pause, and presently Mrs. Ferrall began to laugh. ‘**] mean it immensely.” ‘‘Dearest, you mean it generously really,” said Sylvia quietly; ‘‘I like him with your usual exaggeration. You have heard that he has been foolish, and because he’s so young, so likable, every instinct, every impulse in you is aroused to—to be nice to him ——”’ ‘‘And if that were true--—”’ ‘There is no harm, dear Mrs. Ferrall hesitated, her gray eyes softening to a graverrevery. Then, look- ing up: ‘‘It’s rather pathetic,’”’ she said in a low voice. ‘Kemp thinks he’s foredoomed-—like all the Siwards. It’s an hereditary failing with him—no, it’s hereditary damnation. Siward after Siward, generation after genera- tion, you know She bit her lip, thinking a moment. ‘‘ His grandfather was a friend of my grandparents, brilliant, handsome, generous, and+-doomed! His own father was found dying in a dreadful place in London where he had wandered when stupefiec—a Siward! Think of it! So you see what that outbreak of Stephen’s means to those whose families have been New Yorkers since New York was. It is ominous, it is more than ominous—it means that the master-vice has seized on one more Siward. But I shall never, never admit it to his mother.” The younger girl sat wide-eyed, silent; the elder’s gaze was upon her, but her thoughts, remote, centred on the hapless mother of such a son. ‘‘Such indulgence was once fashionable; moderation is the present fashion. Perhaps he will fall into line,’’ said Mrs. Ferrall thoughtfully. ‘‘The main thing is to keep him among people, not to drop him. The gregarious may be ashamed, but if anything, any incident, happens to drive him outside by himself, if he should become solitary, there’s not a chance in the world for him. . . . It’s

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ee _ ~ | | | | a pity. I know he meant to make himself the exception to the rule—and look! Already one carouse of his has landed him in the daily papers!”’ Sylvia flushed and looked up: ‘‘Grace, may I ask you a plain question?” “Yes, child,’’ she answered absently ‘*Has it occurred to you that what you have said about this boy touches me very closely?” Mrs. Ferrall’s wits returned nimbly from wool-gathering, and she shot a startled, inquiring glance at the girl beside her. ‘“You—you mean the matter of heredity, Sylvia?”’ “Yes, I think my uncle Major Belwether chose you as his august mouthpiece for that little sermon on the dangers of heredity—the danger of being ignorant concerning what women of my race had done before I came THE SATURDAY EVENING POST murmured to herself, as her hostess calmly dropped care like a mantle from her shoulders **Go and be good to this poor young man, then; I ador rows~—and you'll have a few on your hands, I'll warrant Let me remind you that your uncle can make it unpleasant for you yet, and that your amiable fiancé has a will of hi own under his pompadour and silky beard ‘What a pity to have it clash with mine,” said the girl Mrs. Ferrall looked at her: ‘‘Merey on us! Howard's pompadour would stick up straight with horror if he could hear you! Don’t be silly! Don't, for an impulse, for a caprice, break off anything desirable on account of a man for whom you really care nothing — whose amiable exterior and prospective misfortune merely enlist a very natural and generous sympathy in you.” into the world they found so amusing.”’ “T told you several things,” returned Mrs. Ferrall composedly. “Your uncle thought it best for you to know.”’ The girl lifted her pretty, bare shoulders. ‘I’m sorry, but could J help it? Very well; all I can do is to prove a decent excep- tion. Very well; I’m doing it, am I not ?— prac- tically scared into the first solidly suitable marriage offered — seizing the un- fortunate Howard with both hands for fear he'd get away and leave me alone with only a queer family record for com- pany! Very well! Now then, I want to ask you why everybody, in my case, didn’t go about with sanctimonious faces and dolorous mien repeating ‘Her grandmother eloped! Her mother ran away. Poor child, she’s doomed! doomed!’”’ “Sylvia, I-—”’ ‘*Yes—why didn’t they ? That’s the way they talk about that boy out there!”’ She swept a rounded arm toward the veranda. “Yes, but he has al- ready broken loose, while you——”’ ‘*So did I—nearly! Had it not been for you, you know well enough I might have run away with that dreadful Englishman at Newport! For I adored him—I did! I did! and you know it. And look at my endless escapes from compromising myself! Can you count them? all those indiscretions when mere living seemed to intoxicate me that first winter-—-and only my uncle and you to break me in!” ‘In other words,”’ said Mrs. Ferrall slowly, ‘you don’t think Mr. Siward is getting what is known as a square deal?’’ “No, I don’t. Major — -_ Belwether has already hinted—no, not even that but has somehow managed to dampen my pleasure in Mr. Siward.” Mrs. Ferrall considered the girl beside her--now very lovely and flushed in her suppressed excitement. ‘* After all,’ she said, ‘‘ you are going to marry somebody else. So why become quite so animated about a man you may never again see?”’ ‘“‘T shall see him if I desire to!’ “Oh!” ‘‘l am not taking the black veil, am 1?”’ asked the girl. ‘‘Only the wedding veil, dear. But, afterall, your hus- band ought to have something to suggest concerning a common visiting-list did ‘‘He may suggest—certainly. In the mean time | shall be loyal to my own friends—and afterward, too,’’ she She was Standing Beside the Fire with Quarrier, One Foot on the Fender ‘*Do you suppose that I shall endure interference from anybody?—from my uncle, from Howard?”’ ‘‘Dear, you are making a mountain out of a molehill Don’t be emotional; don’t let loose impulses that you and | know about, knew about in our school years, know all about now, and which we have decided must be eliminated . ‘You mean subdued; they'll always be there ‘Very well; who cares, as long as you have them in leash?” Looking at one another, the excited color cooling in the younger girl's cheeks, they laughed, one with relief, the other a little ashamed. ‘‘Kemp will be furious; I simply must cut in!”’ said Mrs. Ferrall, hastily turning toward the gun-room. Miss Landis looked after her, subdued, vaguely repentant, the consciousness dawning upon her tha e had pr al Very fine and very relentles he laughed in unfriendly crea and ther rh perfume f the mi nting ea saturat the night h wild fra gran lew lav hea " the law! he lifted her kirts enough to clear the ra heed hat } lk-st fe vere Nn oaking bhet it ft cliffs’ ed as she k dow into the white fur ot the 1, the tunnit cras} the ocean i ( her For a long while they watched it lence; once he leaned a tritle too far over the tar-lit gulf and ré coiling inve luntarily teadied herself on his art | Uppose he ara no swimmer could er dure that batterir Not long Would there 1 t hance Ni me ’ t t larthe vard, I inated r I th plendid fret ur breakers 1 — think he be- gan quiet! then a firn hand fell over her left hand and, half-encireled — ne elf dr n bac Neither pa pol two thing he wa cool i int ol that urged, dra I I il rre ble he had leaned too fa from the cliff, and « Id have leaned fart he n ! ike matte nt ! own keep without al ' gv ar it? il tne pres ire of hi hand “ eT hers remained a sensatiot |—astrong, st masterful im} rint, lacking he tation or vVaciiatior she Va a conscious of it as though her hand still tightened der his—and she was conscious, t tha ott f } touch had offended; that there had arisen in her no tremor of instinctive recoil. For never before had she touched or suffered a touch from a man, even ag ed greeting, t! had not subtly repelled her, nor, for that matter, a ¢ from a woman without a reaction of faint discamfort Wa I in ar actual danger she asked curiou ( J

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14 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST REG. U. 8. PAT. OFF FOUNDED A°D' 1728 PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY BY THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY 421 TO 427 ARCH STREET GEORGE HORACE LORIMER, EDITOR PHILADELPHIA, JUNE 2, 1906 Poor Richard Junior's Philosophy € If you would be thought a fool, play with a loaded pistol ; if a knave, with loaded dice. € Beware of the man who never buys a gold brick. The chances are that he sells them. @ When angry count ten before you speak. touched”’ count 1000 before you lend. When © When in a hurry to get to the poorhouse take the road that leads through the bucket-shop and passes the race- track. The Law and the Fact | a ERLY puts and calls were sold on the Chicago Board of Trade. They are an excellent speculative device, invented by no less moral and conservative a genius than Uncle Russell Sage. They serve a twofold purpose. First, they provide a different manner of betting for those who, haply, have grown weary of losing their money in the old way. We can see no reasonable objection to this. On the contrary, when a gentleman’s nervous system has become deranged by the successive jolts of his wheat losses it seems decidedly humane to give him an opportunity to receive the shocks in a different spot, by trading in puts and calls. Second, they afford the speculator a kind of insurance by limiting his losses on each transaction, thus enabling him to reach bottom by a good smooth road with a uniform grade of about thirty- five instead of going over a series of ragged precipices. Also, if he takes the road he lasts longer, and this helps the commission trade. But the legislature, with its usual grasp of the merely superficial aspects, banned puts and calls as gambling and forbade trading in them. It did not ban wheat speculation in other forms, and such peculation has continued so flourishingly that a Federal court has held the vast bulk of all the Board’s transactions The law against puts and calls amounted simply to this: That one might bet on the ace, king and queen, but not on the jack. Naturally, taking that card out of the pack caused considerable annoyance For a good while the Chicago trade in puts and calls at Milwaukee by But the wonderful advances in al science could scarcely obviate the inconveniences of he across the Stats Now, we pe r cent in wheat to he pure gambling. was carned on wire. even ‘ le etri aving to keep the jack line understand, counsel for the Board has devised a “contract of indemnity” which will in no wise conflict with the statute, yet which the non-legal observer could scarcely distinguish from that forbidden jack. Whenalaw is not founded in common-sense and public need it is pretty sure to be evaded or A Great Debate fas Senate debate on the railroad rate bill consumed - some two months. It was an exceedingly brilliant obse rvers ignored ‘vbody says s able g tha of the upper house as palmiest Probably ypercritical to incidental fault in an exhibition of such sur- passing excellence The facts remain, however, that this great debate left the subject exactly where it found it Prodigies of learning and eloquence were displayed, and the display was highly gratifying in everything excepting pe rformance lonstratir has been no decline ¢ . al «ly ive intellectual calibre e compared with its point out an days THE SATURDAY EVENING POST the particular that it shed no light worth mentioning upon the principal question under discussion. This principal question— with which, in fact, the debate almost wholly concerned itself—was as to what view the Supreme Court would take of an attempt to limit the in- junctional powers of the lower courts. Mr. Bailey upheld a certain opinion with great profundity and acumen. Mr. Spooner was fairly dazzling in contending for an opposite opinion. Of course neither Mr. Spooner nor Mr. Bailey could possibly say anything in the least conclusive on the subject. All they can possibly know is that Mr. Tillman, whom they called a corn-fed lawyer, is exactly as apt as any of the rest of them to guess what the court's decision will be. The debate very brilliantly illuminated its own practical futility. The light that it shed simply disclosed the darkness of the way. The great law argu- ments by the great lawyers served only to make more clear the hopelessness of trying to discover what the law, in certain constitutional cases, actually is—or actually will be when the Supreme Court has declared it. As a display of learning that might as well have been ignorance the debate was a tremendous success—and, of course, it pleased the chief participants. The Conservative President HE President is a sounder conservative than he is given credit for being by many of the leaders of his own party. For example, the paragraph on great fortunes in his‘ muck- rake”’ speech was denounced as ‘‘rank Socialism’”’ by an excited Republican Senator. We think all Socialists however lamentably they may fail to get together on any other proposition — will agree that as an exposition of their doctrine the President’s suggestion was certainly rank. What Mr. Roosevelt said was that we might ultimately have to consider the levying of a progressive Federal in- heritance tax, aimed at the ‘transmission in their entirety of fortunes swollen beyond all healthy limits.” It seems impossible that the most ingrained conservative soul could really, on sober second thought, find anything very shock- inginthat. Perhaps the workings of the plutocratie mind are beyond any mere lay comprehension. Nevertheless, we venture the opinien that the unhealthily swollen ones would adopt this suggestion with the greatest enthusiasm as a final settlement of the case between them and the public. Evasion of such a tax, by distributing the estate before death, foreign residence and the like, would be easy. Undistributed lifelong possession of a huge fortune would seem a sufficient prize to most predatory minds, even if the Government decimated the accumulation at the posses- sor’s death. Thanks to recent journalistic enterprise, the public now knows how unhealthily swollen fortunes are acquired. With the rare exceptions of the bonanza miner, like Mackay, or the lucky speculator in city real estate, like Astor and Marshall Field, practically all the vast fortunes originate in some unjust special privilege either given or tolerated by the Government. Practically every one of them is due to unjust law, or to the evasion of law. The old fable that the enormous accretions were won by superior ability in a fair field has been very thoroughly exploded. Radical, or progressive, persons would like to change the conditions which produce the unhealthy swellings. Post-mortem alleviation is generally of the essence of conservatism. The Culture Craze SA PEOPLE we are terribly busy getting culture—at least the women are. There was a time when the Browning class was a joke; but we have long passed that simple stage. Purely literary culture is a commonplace in the face of economics, sociology, physical culture, domestie science, art, music, and the rest. It is a poor crossroads that can’t boast at least a university extension lecture, and the woman who isn’t preparing a paper in the social science class, or on child-life, or on the drama of the future, is a rare barbarian luxury that is kept carefully concealed by her husband and male friends. rhe net product of all this culture process ought to begin to be evident. Apparently it shows itself on the news- stands in the multitude of magazines about all sorts of things; but perhaps that is cause rather than effect. These are the culture germs to breed culture that the busy pub- lishers put forth. All this devotion to culture hasn’t made any appreciable influence upon our manners or our voices; the one remains fresh and the other loud, we must admit. Nor can any great boom in national taste be perceived by the most delicate culture-recording machine: we still like cheap and silly plays and read probably the thinnest lot of rubbish that the printing press ever put out. And as a people we still prefer vulgar hotels to a decent domestic privacy. Evidently culture is meant to give us something to talk about rather than something to be. We have lots to talk about. But our foreign guests say very pretty things about our women as they leave our shores. They vary the words, but their bread-and-butter notes read much alike: ‘‘ Yours is a wonderful country”’ (and so on according to space). June 2, 1906 But they They let the women And your women are wonderful. They are stars! There’s nothing just like them elsewhere on the earth. They can speak French and know what is doing in London. They play golf and drive automobiles They have views on art and Egyptian exploration. They are wonderful!”’ Culture does it. ‘“Your men are great workers, good providers. haven't much to say for themselves. do the talking. An Indestructible Fiction HEN a great calamity visits a modern city Galveston, Baltimore, San Francisco — it that the most artificial thing is the most enduring. may be called natural property —that which is valuable because it is intrinsically useful—may be completely destroyed; and the only large asset that remains consists of the titles to the real estate. In the business districts of every large city little plots of ground bring enormous prices, not for any productive power in themselves, but because they happen to be focal points for the energies of a vast number of people. A great calamity wipes out this artificial value actually; yet it persists indestructibly, although it is, in fact, immediately after the disaster, a pure fiction. The best retail site is actually worthless. There are no crowds of shoppers to come to it, no modern transportation facilities to bring them. It may even be, as in San Francisco, that whatever people are within reach have no money to shop with. But the fictive value remains after the real value in buildings and goods has been destroyed. Indeed, this pure fiction of an immense value in the real estate-—as though it still lay in the centre of a rich, populous city instead of a waste heap of ruins furnishes the foundation for the rebuilding of the city. The man with the best retail site, though it be only a rubbish pile, can mortgage it for money to put up another store with. The modern city, being destroyed, rises in the same spot and substantially the same proportions because it must build mostly upon real-estate values which, although entirely artificial, survive after the rest is wiped out. There is no particular moral to this; but the next time the business-district real-estate owner yammers to you that his taxes amount to sheer robbery, say to him: ‘‘Go to! We not only make you rich by walking past your corner, without effort or virtue on your part; but you alone are placed beyond the reach of chance and mis- fortune. You have a cinch that not even an earthquake can loosen. Be content.” What Hind of an Animal is Man? R. BRYAN hasstated, in a recent article, the difference between the Individualist and the Socialist with remarkable clearness. When all the froth of discussion is pushed aside, the fundamental difference between the ordinary well-meaning citizen of to-day, who is generally an Individualist, and the average Socialist comes down to a guess about the real nature of the animal man. The con- servative person, who believes that society must develop on pretty much the same lines that exist to-day, thinks that man is a predatory animal who has evolved whatever good characteristics there may be in him through a fierce competitive struggle, and he can see no reason why man should change his nature in any practical reach of time by any change in the social system. Therefore he looks with suspicion on all Utopian plans according to which man would be expected to work without the competitive spur The Socialist, on the other hand, no matter what fringe of further opinion he may have, thinks that the competitive struggle is responsible for the evil in the world, and looks for an improvement in man, and hence in society, only when competition is eliminated. He thinks better of the nature of man than the Individualist; he believes that the best results may be got out of him without the stern discipline of competition. So the matter rests with psychology will man relieved from industrial competition lie down and wallow, or will he continue to hustle for all he is worth? All of us answer that question according to our individual experience of life and our own temperaments. Older men who have had most experience with life, who have observed men of all classes and over a considerable period, are rarely Socialists. They know too well the weaknesses of human nature, and they know the need there is of the spur to get the average man to exert himself. Young men, who have faith in place of knowledge, who think from theory rather than experience, become Socialists. Strong men, so placed in the struggle that they have a good point of attack, usually enjoy the fight and ask nothing better than a tolerably fair chance. But men who have been un- favorably placed in the fight, men who are idealists or tender of heart, and who hate the struggle—such are attracted by the visions of the Socialist. And no one can deny that the latter class is gaining rapidly in numbers, and also that many men of the other, more conservative, class now accept without question much of the Socialist’s beliefs. We imagine that even Mr. Bryan's article would make Thomas Jefferson turn over in his grave and weep. Chicago, appears What

Page 17

The Pride of Tennessee S' JME Representatives were in the workshop of the official stenographers in the Capitol, watching the reporters with their phonographs and the copyists with their phonographs put into manuscript the oratory spilled a few minutes before on the floor. Their guide showed them the various labor-saving devices, including the rubber stamps that are used for the set phrases that occur in the Congressional Record, such as ‘‘and so the bill was passed"’ and ‘‘The House being in the Committee of the Whole House on the State of the Union.” “Very interesting,” said one of the party, ‘‘ but I do not see here the rubber stamp reading: ‘MR. GAINES (of Tenn.): Mr. Speaker, I rise to so-and-so.’ ”’ John Wesley Gaines is the word Vesuvius of Washington. He is always in eruption, spouting language made molten by the fires that burn within him. He has ideas on every known subject and on a choice assortment unknown to anybody but him. He sits on the Democratic side, eag and intent, watching for a chance. He sees an opening. Siss—boom! away he goes, tum-te-te-tum-te-te-tump, protesting, asserting, denying, claiming, casting back into theirteeth, viewing with alarm and pointing with pride. He is as universal as kerosene. He is as permeating as gasoline. Stop him? Go turn off the waters of Niagara. Go sweep back the tide. Undaunted and unabashed, no puny debater of th majority can bring him to his oratorical knees. He is the inventor and sole proprietor of the Gaines System of Serving One’s Constituents. It is a simple system, but none other than a Gaines can use it, although John Wesley has exploited it for these ten years in full view of his audiences. It is this: No matter what is under discus- sion, no matter where the debate leads, GET IN. He is no shrinking violet. He proclaims. His idea of publie service is to get his name in the Record. Hence the inquiry: Where is the John Wesley Gaines rubber stamp? He can scent an opportunity for a parliamentary inquiry before the proposition is half formed by the conditions on the floor. He can say: ‘‘Mr. Speaker, I move to strike out the last word,”’ quicker than any man in the House and thus get his minute’s talk. He will take any spare time any bill captain has to yield, whether it is one minute or one hour, and he will plug it full of resounding language. If all ease fails, if there is no other course, he can always figure out a personal privilege plea and then no one can say him nay. “You keep out of my speech!” shouted the testy Grosvenor at him one day, when John Wesley was asking questions of that doughty warrior. ‘‘ You keep out of my speech!’ many another has shouted at him, but all for naught. John Wesley never = —— keeps out. Not he. His motto is, ‘Get in!” He is scarred from head to foot by thrusts and jabs. He bears the bruises of bludgeons, blunder- busses and big sticks, but he laughs at his own marks as if he never felt a wound. They can’t whip him. They can’t stop him. They can’t put the soft pedal on him. John Wesley is always on tap, the spigot open and the words running free. John Wesley always has his picture taken with his profile showing. It is a fine profile. That masterful nose, that dom- inating chin, that broad forehead sloping back to the tangled mass of iron-gray hair, that eagle’s eye—perhaps you think John r Senator Elkins Wesley isn’t cognizant of the of West Virginia, Who ample beauties of that profile. hes Made Money end The galleries see it. He sits Knows How to Get swung in his chair so that all who the Worth of It come to gaze at the busy hive of statesmanship in the House cannot fail to note those classic outlines, standing in sharp relief against the ruddy mahogany of the desks. And they do gaze, lost in admi- ration. ‘Whois that man—that man there with the gray hair and the handsome face?’ ask the tourists. ‘‘That, madam, is John Wesley Gaines, of Tennessee,’’ the guide replies. They like him down in Tennessee, for they have sent him to five Congresses and, no doubt, will continue to send him as long as he cares to come. They like him in the House, THE SATURDAY mace N US EVENING POST WOMEN he station, he said { 1 ™ i rs Wt isked the S« I here a a} he ‘ Y ‘ l ar t i hir " he shop and teac read and rt are the only requireme ou haven't demar i Elkins laughed and bought the machine John Wesley Gaines, of Tennessee That Masterful Nose, that Dominating Chin, that Broad Forehead Sloping Back to the Tangled Mass of lron-gray Hair, that Eagle's Eye They like his nerve and his no attention to him, but **Pete’”’ Hepburn, of Iowa, wl himself a warrior makes himself so obnoxious began filing a saw lariff Bill, and the the author of the Protectionists, to James C He had nothing to do that ni; is no wilderness in w knew his business John Wesley Gain ! All He Wanted stration, up hills, through sar the son to return and the agent took the fs to the railroad station. Presidential Prejudice \ THEN President Roosevelt was running a ranch in the West he absorbed many of the contentio le the cattlemen. One is that a man who raises beef is a real man, but a man who rais« } pi ; a \ short time ago a Montana { 4 fora in Who was applicant fi . 7 N I iid the President I cant simone: Si I have promised the place to So-a S But, Mr. President,” insisted the Montana that man you inter appoint is a sheep mat Now, see her ! i the I} = . to appeai to n pre ices that wav! The Voice that was Mute Wit N Charles P. Norcross, now a well-known Wash- ington correspondent, began his newspaper career he was sent to ‘‘cover”’ one of the court H business was to look at the docket and find the facts about any case that seemed to him to warrant riting abou One afternoon he discovered an entr hat said one William Burns had been arrested and fined ter dollars for stealing a martingale from James Jon i neignh He recit a these fact it at Introd it ry paragraph ind then went on This criminal wa ust D hed. f the pretty little martingale he stok us the ind comfor of the wife of James Jone he kept it in a ca in her parlor and when, tired with the work of the day, the martingale be, to pour fort! esti fr “ly for which our Pitts ry mal i ait are la 4 it ! id great pleasure Such miscreants as this man Burns should not be allowed at large, especially when they descend s« low as to steal harmless and melodi martingals Too Popular PREPRESENTATIVE SAMUEL W. McCALL, of Ma every da ac l i Hy ‘ against ething. Het eves ther iWwa\ rig! 1 alwa } wor A short t I k } " T the Republican orga tion re ‘ He } in amer ment to a pendit iit ‘ Aft the te ‘ i MeCa cloa room walking up ¢ par r the What's the matt he asked ‘*Matter?”’ hou } } na re is th matter! I am getting too blamed popular: seventeen people voted with me on that endmet The Hall of Fame @ One of Senator Burrows’ favorite luncheon di glass of milk with an appl ! and dropped in it Ire Kansa ha urtl ur Cong ' | ’ i © J. Pierpor Vl } ; Cl a ‘ i I ’ Havana ‘ } ! ‘ i Pent he 1 T m Cor ‘ and > } ré of } life ha iW 1 il e record H ( rib ‘ Representative McCall I nth Cx rr der ; . of Massachusetts, Who ocrat ar was elected to the Fift is Afraid of Becoming eighth as a Republicar Too Popular

Page 18

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Where Life is Marked Down

(Continued from Page 10) wa'n't so awful drunk that he couldn't say: ‘I ain’t lookin’ for no trouble with you, Tom; I’m _ just ransackin’ this town for one——’ Well, he used some rather shopwo’ne expressions. He give Mabel Glenny some sass, and she slapped his face for him, and said she'd take his g gun off him ef he distubbed her bo’ders. So he just laughed and said: ‘Well, you’re goin’ to lose yo’ star bo’der, Mabel—that Little Lord Fauntieroy of yo’ne. Betta kiss him good-by.’ Then he went stumblin’ off. But Mabel on’y culled up her lip and says: ‘You-all notic e that I don’t wea he no gahnet ring no mo’. The Prince hid his face in his hands. The contempt of a sweetheart or the grief of a mother—which has been the harder for a man to bear, since time was? And now the red-headed teamster stopped in to report the situation. He had fol- lowed Bant from saloon to saloon, from defiance to defiance, until the joy lost its edge. He glanced toward the Prince with a quick, slant look that brought no solace. He said: ‘‘Somebody ought sho’ to plug up Bant Jones’ windpipe, Tom. His mouth ain’t nevva been no prayer-book, but when he gits to tearin’ down a lady’s tg ap ween in bah-rooms, somethin’ ought to be done. It ain’t my quarrel, and I don’t know Miss Glenny well enough to persume to defend her, but the fust wuds I evva heard ag’in’ her characta was from Bant Jones; and he claims to know Hullo, Prince! what’s the matta?”’ ‘Tom, lend me your gun. I've got to put an end to that rattlesnake. He's lived too long.” The boy’s face looked like marble, hard and white and set; but the teamster said: ‘I reckon you be tta postpone that piece o’ street-cleanin’, Prince. Some of the fellas has pussu: uded Bant to go to bed some- wheres. He's sleepin’ the peaceful sleep of the drunk. You couldn't shoot him now.’ And Tom, holding the boy back forcibly, tried to quiet his growing fre nzy: “ Best let it res’ for to-night, boy. You've stood it this long. A little mo’ won’t hurt you. To- morra Bant may be soba and remawseful. Ef he ain't —well, you can aim straighta by daylight. Heah’s ma gun, though.” He stared hard at the Prince, then contin- ued : *‘ But looka heah, Prince, just start this thing right. Don’t you make no woman's quarrel ote o’ this. In the fust place it ain’t polite; in the second, no lady on earth is wuth killin’ a man fer. I don’t believe in the sect maseff. The way I'd feel in yo’ place, Prince, is abote like this: Heah I am settled down earnin’ a fair livin’ and satis- fied for the time bein’ with job an’ locality. Along comes a man that says: ‘I don't like yo' way o’ doin’ things. Yo’ face gives mea pain. I don’t want to see yo’ roun’ the place no mo’. Git upan git!" If a man talked thataway to me, an’ if he was ma boss and payin’ ma wages, I'd bow low an’ take ma firin’ peaceable. If he was a Rangeh, or a constable, and I was plumb soba, I'd say: ‘I take off ma hat to old Mr. Law and Orda’.’ But ef he was only a com- mon man like me, I'd say: ‘I’m an Ame - ican citizen, I am, an’ one ‘of us is goin’ to leave heah feet fust.’ No, I wouldn't stop tosay it. I'd just think it ‘and shoot. “Take ma advice, Prince; don’t you go fightin’ nobody for no piece o’ bombazine. You stand solely on yo’ inalienearable rights as an Ame’ican citizen tew life, libutty, and the pussuit o’ good wages. And whatevva you do, don't forgit ma wuds; Don’t draw exceptin’ to shoot, and don’t shoot exceptin’—well, you know.’ Tom wrung the Prince’s limp hand, laid his revolver on a box and took the teamster away with him. Jo blew out the light and began to snore the moment he fell over on his cot. How could the Prince sleep? He had a whole life to livethrough. Herein his very boyhood he was brought close against the climax and crisis of his days on earth. He made and unmade decisions at shuttle- speed, and every decision had some-element of wrong in it, some guaranty of regret. It had been easy to say, ** It’s better to be killed than to kill,” but it looked different asareality. It was a beautiful theory that a man should prefer his mother’s comfort to all other aaietn but the word “ coward” that hideous word — was eating through his heart like a rotary drill.

The next morning at six o’clock the Glenny dining-room was nearly full. All the men were conspicuously clean-handed and clean-faced; the comb-grooves were still in their wet hair. The only empty places were Bant’s at the head of the table, and the Prince’s at the end of the bench, nearest the kitchen. But everybody was too drowsy or too full of morning-grouch to say anything. This sensation was already ancient history. Even Miss Glenny had slept over her romance, and was decid- ing that the Oklahoma man was rather likely, and his hair a nicer red than she had thought at first. And then the Prince came in. Every- body stared at him. Food-laden knives and coffee-swimming saucers paused before gaping mouths. They noticed that the Prince held his head very high for a man who had taken a dare and dodged a direct challenge. And there was a curt vigor to his nod that was surprising. He looked at Mabel with ana oualing gaze. She smiled back at him with a look of motherly pity and landlady-like tolerance. He felt the ce hange, but gave nosign except fora certain hardening of the jaw-muscles. The Olishenn’ man asked with a little sting of raillery: ‘‘Have you seen Bant Jones to-day?” “Shut up, you Indian,” growled Tom, or I'll break a plate ova yo’ haid!” “Well, I thought the Prince might lak to know that I seen Bant this moanin’, and he says he won't leave town till he finds him.” “‘T won’t be hard to find,” said the Prince. Everybody started; it seemed that a stranger’s voice had spoken. Miss Glenny Noe che at the Prince with new eyes. She asked him if he wouldn't like some more condensed milk in his coffee. As he poured it from the gash in the can a figure passed the window: The others did not notice. But«very muscle in the Prince’s body turned to stone. His eyes went up till only the whites showed. He set the can down hard. Tom, who sat opposite, stared in dismay, thinking the boy was paralyzed. There was a sound of a man scraping his boots on the edge of the front pore The outer door squeaked and slammed. There was a muddy tread on the uncarpeted hall. The screen door opened and a man stepped in. His black hat was low over his eyes. His right hand was in his coat-pocket. He peered round the half-lighted room. Nobody troubled to turn and see who was entering. Miss Glenny had recognized the step. She fastened her critical, waiting eyes on the Prince. She saw him make a quick motion to his pocket, rise to full height, raise both clasped hands slowly and steadily, as if pointing at the newcomer. Just as she heard the screen door flap she heard a sound like its echo; saw a flash of light at the end of the Prince's finger; saw his hands recoil; heard a click; saw the Prince ready again, and waiting. She looked at Bant. There was a sudden hole in his hat. He was trying to speak and could not. On his face there was a look of utter amazement. Then he went to the floor allina bunch. Out of his coat-pocket fell a loaded revolver, and around it pat- tered, like hail, a dozen loose cartridges. The Oklahoma man bent down over him, then looked up, spat contemplatively, and murmured : “The joke’s on Bant, boys.” Tom was thinking of some one else: Gen’lemen,” he said, ‘‘I want you-all to take a good look at that gun of Bant’s every chamber full, an’ a pocket-load of loose cattridges. I want you-all to rememba them impawtant details when we-all goes befo’ the jury. Mrs. ( Gheaxy and Mabel were thinking still of a tertium quid. Mrs. Glenny wailed: “TL always uster say that you couldn’t nevva down no Christian; but I’m beginnin’ to distrus’ ma luck.’”” And Mabel added: “Worst is, it'll likely give our bodein’-ho’se a bad name, though nobody can’t say that I and maw ain't always been puffect ladies.” Tom turned to the Prince, who was cow- ering on his bench like a whipped dog, his skin shivering over him everywhere. His one feeling was nausea. Tom laid a hand on his shoulder, but the Prince stared fixedly at his mao foe, the man who had tried torun him out of town. It seemed now that it had been too small an offense to merit such punishment. The Prince whispered to Tom: I'd give a million dollars if it was me instead of him.’ “ June 2, 1906 WOMAN’S FIRST ORDER GIVES US AN OPPORTUNITY TO DE- MONSTRATE THAT WE MAKE PERFECT-FITTING GARMENTS FROM MEASUREMENTS SENT BY MAIL. HER FOLLOWING ORDERS ARE PROOF OF HER SATISFACTION. We have thousands of reg sul ar customers who order from us year after year. Some of them live near you, to: whom we can refer by perinissi You risk nothing, for we puaseditee to fit you or refund your money. Summer Suits Made to Order $4 to $25 New York Styles. SHIRT- mvt vs ITS, to $20. TAILOR- abe SUITS, ) to $25. SILK SL +1 Fi $9.75 to $25. WASH SL -, to $15 $4 SEPARATE SKIN $3.50 to $15. SILK coats, 75 to $20. RAIN om, $8.00 to $20. 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Page 19

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Lighter, more Punct re-pre cm s alle a i er y revela ion t construction. Can | Vher € fold =p into a pack- ( e 10¢ engra | age King Folding Boat Co., 672 W ‘North 8t., Kalamazoo, ‘Mich | WE TEACH TELEGRAPHY QUICKLY 2" pet» t

r graduates at Railro ids write us daily for operators and furnish RAIL- ROAD PASSES TO DESTIN ATION Expenses very low and studet earn their board. 40- i book , eer about it yay railroad fare. . Valentine’s School of Telegraphy Established 34 years. Janesville, Wis Tom sniffed: *‘ Don’t make any mo’ of a fool of yo’seff than you can he'p. I'll see you through if you'll only put on long pants and be a man.” ‘** But he was a friend of mine!”’ the Prince gasped, **and now —look at him!" Tom did look at him, for Bant had begun to move, to mumble and toss like a man frowsy with sleep. He opened his eyes, looked round in bewilderment, and growled ‘Did I fail ote of bed, or what ? Everybody stared in silent wonder at the miracle and Bant had time to realize every- thing, to drawl out one long ‘‘Oh-h!"’ and explain: ‘Blamed ef I didn't think I was daid He glowered at the Prince and began to fumble in his pocket. Tom pe up “Prince, you'd betta clean up this job now for good and all.”” The Prince wan give Bant a royal welcome back to earth He loved him for being kind enough to live But Tom’s eyes quelled his enthusiasm, so he took his automatic .38 out of his poe! ket and carelessly fingered it as he said with a feeble effort at severity ‘ Bant, you said you was a-goin’ to run me out of town. I think you'd better take a little run yourself. What do you think?"’ “IT think I better had,” said Bant, eying the glittering nickel-p slate d surface of the 38. Then he added, to do the thing handsomely : “And I reckon I owe you an apology, Prince.” “*T guess you owe Mrs. Glenny thirty-five dollars,’’ was the Prince’s answer. Bant got to his feet, and found in his pocket just thirty-three dollars, mostly in silver badly tarnished by the gas of the region. He looked at it sheepishly. ‘Would any gent trus’ me fer two dollas?’’ he asked. There was a silence that paid eloquent tribute to Bant’s com- mercial standing in the community Then the Prince, with some uneasiness, volunteered: ‘I'll make it ten so that you can pay your fare out of town.” “That's right handsome of vou, Prince,” said Bant; “I'll return it to you befo’ long.” ‘T'll expect it when I get it,” said the Prince. Bant clumsily turned over to Mrs. Glenny the sum he owed her, and stooped to pick up his hat. A lock of his hair fell through the hole in it. He looked at it, and a glimmer of his old impudence came over his face: Say, Mabel,”’ he said, this to rememba me by.” And Mabel took it. Bant sure had a way with the women. But the men glared at him the more contemptuousl) and he knew better than to offer his hand to any of them. He rubbed his scalp, found a drop or two of blood on his finger from a little scratch made by the grazing bullet. This sear of conflict gave him a little more self-respect, and he turned with his old swagger, winked at the Prince, slapped the screen door shut after him and strode off through the mud toward the station. The Prince looked after him with all the affection one feels for one’s vanquished enemies; and he said: ‘‘Gosh, but I'm glad I missed him. And, say, Mabel —I mean, Miss Glenny—I guess | could stand another cup of coffee before the whist blows.” The other boarders sat down again to finish their interrupted breakfast. As Mabel returned with a cup of steaming coffee for the Prince, Tom let out a wild guilaw: “T'll be goldurned ef Mabel ain't went and put on that gahnet ring once mo’.”’

*“you can keep What's in a Name {ae the least of the troubles of authors AN and composers is to find suitable and catchy titles for their productions “I once knew a young musician,” says John Philip Sousa, ‘‘who went one day on an excursion with a party to view a new tubular bridge that had been thrown over the Susquehanna River. He was much impressed. When he returned he wrote a schottische in honor of the event. ‘**Mr. Sousa,’ he said to me, ‘I have written a fine schottische about this and I want to ask you if you don’t think this is just the name for it?’ ‘What is the name?’ I asked. ““*Why, I intend to call it ‘The Tubular Bridge | Over the Susquehanna Schot- tische.’ THE SATURDAY

EVENING POST

Wanted— Men to Fill liood Positions The INTERNA Al OR} i ‘ tion that has don yn » in t | minute lor workit men a womer one \ .< ect ‘ w to help yo elf to a most desirable position t tl |

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Here is a List of Good Positions Rox + +}

ees hneneenbeul Secsssnnbtenes Schools 171, Scranton, Pa., ¢ ¢ ita

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18 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST TFLEATER FOLA Adele Ritchie The Long Lest Sovanoff A’: LE RITCHIE tells this story of a nage 1 musician whom it is kindest, pe rhaps, to call Gaston Mrs. Clarence Mack: a was at one of his concerts with Mr. Mackay, and in an intermission he came up to their box to see them. During the con- versation, which was in French, the only language Gaston understood, she saw Sovan- off, the great Russian conductor, sitting be- low in the aisle seat of the seventh row. She yointed him out, and asked if Gaston knew iim. Six years ago in the Latin Quarter, Gaston said, they had been brothers, and he was overcome at the honor Sovanoff had paid him in coming to his concert. He excused himself to go down to speak to him, and Mrs. Mackay said she ds be glad if Sovanoff would come up and let them meet him. When Gaston had left she suggested that it would be more hospitable for Mr. Mackay to go down and bring the great conductor up in person When Gaston reached the aisle seat he laid his hand with hearty affection upon Sovanoff's shoulder, who thereupon sprang up and faced him. Gaston threw himself upon his friend's neck, embraced him with both arms, and seemed about to kiss him on the cheek, after the Continental custom, when Sovanoff planted both hands on Gaston's chest and thrust him off with violence By this time Mr. Mackay had reached them. He found Gaston protesting eternal friendship and gratitude in French, while his victim, who only understood one word of what he was saying, shouted back in English: ‘‘I am not Sovanoff! I am a Broatway merchant, and my name is Finckiestein! Mr. Mackay separated the belligerents, and, explaining the situation, led Gaston back to the box Having partly calmed himself, Gaston departed to finish nis concert Fer some moments they waited, and no Gaston appeared on the stage Then there was a smothered cry in the aisle outside the box. Mr. Mackay rushed out, and, follow- ing the noise, found that Gaston had shut hit iself inside a closet which, in his per- turbation, he had mistaken for the stage aoor A Tragic Gottschalk ( NE of the hardships in the life of the character-actor is that, however great his abilities, he can get nothing unless it so happens that play s are produced with parts iutable to his ez pat llities Few actors have made a more elias? mpression than Mr. Ferdinand Gottschalk as Lord Tween- wayes in The Amazons and Johnny Trotter who was ‘‘no dodo bird” in The Climbers But for months past he has had nothing but small parts in plays that have been failur His last venture, in Rupert Hughes’ The Triangle, promised to mark a turning point in his career, for it gave him an opportunity for acting that was essentially tragic and yet lay well within his scope. His part was, as usual, that of an absurdly foppish and degenerate little man, Willie Enslee, a mem- er of an old New York family. Discover- ing that his wife is unfaithful to him, Enslee as she s himself into a fury which ends in his killin g her with a knife , an d then falling into a fit of abject fear at what he has done. Mr. Gottschalk played the part with his unfail- ing ability, touching out the grotesque phases with his familiar humor, and rising to a really imaginative effect of horror at the close. If the actress who played the oppo- site part had been equal to it, there is little doubt that Mr. Gottschalk would have made a profound impression. But Miss Charlotte Walker, delightful as she is to look at, and competent in portraying the softer feminine moods, was quite unequal to the tragic climax of the play, which requires the authority and skill of Mrs. Fiske or Mrs. Patrick Campbell. So, again, Mr. Gott- schalk is waiting. Napoleon and the Fairies NHE largeness and boldness of Mr. Charles Frohman’'s theatrical ambi- tions have led his enemies to dub him the Napoleon of the Drama; but to those who know him intimately (and, owing to his retiring disposition, these are so few that you could count them on the fingers of one hand) he is said to be sympathetic and quietly genial. About the last play any one would have expected him to like is Barrie’s fairy phantasy, Peter Pan; but his devotion to it amounts almost to a passion. The theatrical reporter of one of the great New York dailies happens to be of a similar mind, and in his trips up and down Broad- way in search of news seldom fails to stop in at the Empire for at least an act. Now Mr. Frohman’s modesty is such that he never takes a seat where he can be seen by the audience, so as it happened the two en- countered each other almost nightly in the stamping ground of the standee. When Barrie’s Pantaloon and Alice Sit-by-the- Fire were produced the reporter trans- ferred his alle giance for one night, and so did the dramatic Napoleon. Mr. Frohman smiled, and for the first time addressed the reporter ‘‘Where were you last Wednesday?” he inquired. ‘‘I missed you at Peter Pan.” The Verdant Girardot FTER the first run of Charley's Aunt, Etienne Girardot was looking for a new vehicle, and, reasoning after the manner of player folk, he determined to get a second piece that was exactly the same. Like many another comedian who has made a continent roar, he is in private life one of the most earnest and intent of men. While lunching at The Players, where he lives while-in New York, he once fell in with a young writer who has a round face, big round spectacles, a small nose and long hair. ‘Do you know,” said Girardot, eyeing him fixedly, ‘‘ you remind me of somebody somebody I am very much interested in and for the life of me I can’t tell who it is.”’ The scribe smiled. ‘Willard Metcalf over there,”’ he said, pointing to the painter, ‘always calls me Makepeace because I re- mind him of Thackeray.” Girardot reflected. ‘‘No!"’ he said, ‘‘it isn't Thackeray. I must say I don't see any likeness there. Isn't there any one ¢ lse you resemble?" Iranaeus Stevenson, the musical critic, says I'm the living image of Anton Seidl. It's not Seidl,”’ said Girardot. ‘‘ How extraordinary! I seem to have seen the man only yesterday, and yet I can’t remem- ber where!’’ He fell into an abstracted silence, and the conversation about the table drifted into other channels. Some minutes later Girardot’s face lighted up, and raising his hand to command silence he exclaimed, ‘‘I have it! I've gotit! You're the living image of Verdant Green!’ There was a roar of laughter, and Girardot looked nonplused ‘What nem I said?’’ the comedian asked. ‘‘I meanit—seriously. And I want to ask you—don’t you think if Verdant Green were dramatized it would make me just the play I'm after?” Nothing came of the idea, but when Mr Hopkinson was produced some months ago, one of the critics proclaimed it as the best farce since Charley's Aunt, and the phrase was quoted on all the bill-boards Girardot took advantage of this windfall of advertisement to revive that classic, thus achieving his ideal as to the successor of his first triumph June 2, 1906 Stein-Bloch Smart Clothes The foundation of Stein-Bloch Smart Clothes is merit. Through- out the great organization of the Stein- Bloch Shops the sole test of craftsmanship Is merit. Stein- Bloch merit has been developing for gi years. This labe n every OOOOH KR KKK KH OF pio ' Wicbsal Laslorg REGISTER 139 IID QDVIODVD WDD h ** Smartne method nd Main Office N. Y PF ae ENJOYMENT OF THE PEOPLE. rains Daily including “North iL gs GARDINER GATEWAY AND THE _ i ha PACIFIC RAILWA » GENERAL PASSENGER AGENT, ST. PAU } Storied Northwest" ”

Page 21

Correct Methods and Perfect Organization A great tailor shop, equipped with every improved labor saving device, employing a thousand of the best cutters and tailors, trained to move and work like one man, means the production of a better article at less cost than can be produced by those who continue to use the old fashioned methods and who have no idea of organization. Such is our organization and our reasons for stating that you can for $25 to $35 about the price of ready-made clothing have made expressly for you, from the best fabrics, a suit or overcoat of as good value as you can get from the local tailor 4 for 100% more. | . i if Merchant Tailors Dept. D, Chicago i Ask your dealer to show you our woolens, and iY wear clothes made expressly for yo ) ti YY? it: Capital and ecsiees of s| 20 THOUSAND ‘eae if deposited with Se oe Our Mail Certificates of De posit Afford | the Safest and Most Convenient | PLAN OF BANKING BY MAIL Send for Booklet ‘‘J’’ ASSETS OVER ONE MILLION DOLLARS, n5% TRADE | NVEL MARK Amateur Photographers should know all about the new * Envelo Devices for exposing and developing plates Applied to the ordinary camera ata smaller cost than usual outfit of plate holders—DAYLIGHT LOADING | CAPACITY UNLIMITED H Write to-day fe rHE UNIT SYS PEM APPLIED TO PHOTOG RAPHY.” | ; Lyon Camera Specialty Company, Pittsburg, Pa / — | No Bacteria in THIS Bed i 8 a mitminme ~ Sanitaire a 1 You Le NO taen Base 68 tm Soe FREE ) 1 to sleep well.’ re MARION TRON & BRASS BED ‘co meee Sanitaire Be. ‘Nevin Ind., U.8.A ATENTS ree ney i SECURED OR \ ln E Oia LA RNEE I EVANS, ‘WILKENS & co. * Wesbingt: on, ‘D. c. SENSE AND NONSENSE Eternal Feminine Ladies should not wear garden hose ex- cept at garden parties. When alone in Paris behave as if all the world were your mother-in-law Compliments paid a woman behind her back go farthest and are remembered longest. Cure your wife of bargain-shopping and you will have more money for bucket- shopping Remember that your wife's wardrobe is the Bradstreet in which women look for your rating. ter Field, J1 Not Running Amuck NEWSPAPER editor in a certain Western town was expressing his pleasure over the latest exposure. “Oh, it’s fine the way newspapers are showing up all the dark places —fine fine!’ he exclaimed to a friend at lunch “IT sincerely hope that when they've finished with secret rebates, beef trust, insurance and Standard Oil,”’ replied the latter, “that they'll finish the job by exposing the newspaper business." “*So do I!” assented the editor instantly. “So do I! Why, here’s our rival, the Citizen, right in this town. Its building stands on school land for which it pays one- fourth the rent anybody else pays, because it’s the Citizen. It gets its fire insurance cheaper than anybody else, and gas, and water. Why? Simply because it’s the Citizen.” “Have you facts?” “Facts that would convict in court.”’ “Well, why don’t you go ahead with an exposure on your own account It ought to be right in your line.” “Oh, fudge —we're on school land, too!” Puts and Calls Natural History Ah, here's a simple truth you may Rely upon, my friend A mule’s headquarters, as they say Are not his “ business ” end Sand in His Eves ‘Tis hardest, preachers all declare, Of all the sheep th: it str ay, To make the « ating g er see The error of h is weigh What's the Use? Shrouds have no pockets! If they had They'd be quite empty, we're afraid, Ere all the doctor's bills —how sad! And undertaker’s claims we > pa A Overdoing It It is wise to pr wide for the dark, rainy da Of which prudent p » persiste y But bad as improvicent spen re the Who waste all their es inco ting \ sea trip ne wring Rare mem 1 Lniess t ma S r t Cor ip t ar s plea — \ Wat A Long Weight Si NATOR ANKENY, of Washington, an enthusiastic fisherman. Senator Piles tells the following story on him When Senator Ankeny became a proud grandfather there was an immediate call for scales to weigh the infant. No other scales being available, it was decided to use grandpa’s fish-scales. So these were brought forth, and the surprise of those present was unbounded when it was found the little baby, but a few hours old, weighed twenty pounds. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST —_———— —_—_ ailroads’ | hrottling | Grip” Beginning with the Number, the Business he Magazine will ina | | campaign in the “Break the wurate a every man wh of transportation hips a pound of freight \ series of twelve articles by 4 ine ] I \ « id I m Micl in,w conclusive | { of existing i s€ hithe unp hed t ral ti | ult ! ly Read the June Number of the Business Man ~ Magazine The det rt il; t purp ad mat 1 u tt privat t th i | t i my tive K ! n t I ll w ‘ " 1 j The | ss Ma Maga | eq ire t rat ind nor flat tw ind 1 lote P rr} un w t fire 1 nu I 1 1 1 hi llow 1 t 1 thi t t " ) I list ave, aad elp apy the remedy that willl THE BUSINESS MAN’S MAGAZINE, Detroit, Mich. ( f \ ’ } ; / your chimney Overfeed turna i the che ape r le « than a hav ever t ! it Peck = W illiamson U ber-van Sener Furnace Saves Y to 3% on Coal Bills The Peck Williamson Co. 329 V W - Filth St., Cincinnati, 0. Dealers are¢ vited to ' write our ve; etterners fe | | TENTS ® 5 a FRANKLIN H. HOUG#, Atlantic Bidg., Washington, D.C Pathfinder, Wash Don't Suffer in Tlot \Weath WEAR LOOSI Fil LING ( ( tl t D B.V_D ERLANGEI Os s

Page 22

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST June 2, 1906 ODDITIES @ NOVELTIES Of Every-Day Science

HIGH-PRICED ANGEL CAKES— UNCLE SAM IS BAKING THEM RIGHT ALONG AT $25,000 A CAKE. HERE is a sort of angel food which Treasury experts are highly skilled in preparing. It is made, appropriately enough, of gold, or of silver, and has to be . : baked in an oven for eight hours before it is ‘cameos =< os = _|# 4 With one ribbon and its new properly cooked. You may see it in proc- Y ae G 1906 three-color device _ of manufacture at ed — baw any of : -. i ae 1 . the mints or assay offices. It looks just a The New Tri-Chrome lke saagel calee, sail Uae dhel in charge wit m , YE LLOW STON E Smith Premier Typewriter | tell you that each éake of gold is worth i about $25,000, and that the silver ones are Of all the world’s wonder-spots there is none so enchanting, so valued at $600 apiece. . : ; vast and varied, as Yellowstone National Park. Its steaming These cakes, which are twelve inches in : 3 ee ms oe caked a ee diameter and three inches thick, are of gold, Ph ee ee Leen meee Serene Seen armen or of silver, so pure as to contain hardly so thousands of visitors each vez = lo be sure of the most satisfactory much as a thousandth part of any foreign train service in going to the Park, take substance. Their material is the product of scientific refining —which, in the case of the silver, is accomplished by putting the crude stuff, as it comes from the mine or ’ ; from the dealer in old metal, into boiling nitricacid. The silver, treated in this way, instantly disappears, the acid looking like on the Chicago, so much water, but the addition of a little | common salt, later, causes it to fall to the . bottom of the tank in a fine white powder. ff Milw aukee & St. Paul Railway When the acid has been drawn off, the pow- der, which is chloride of silver, is moulded 1 this famous train the highest standar« 1 of comfort, convenience at under pressure into such cakes as those luxur hed It is brilliantly lighte the tricit sthe: above described. | nted train eve It is the same way with the gold, after it tation, Chicago, at 6.30 P. M has gone through similar processes. Freed he Overiand I appa from all impurities, it looks like nothing so id wrrans much as aa gravel of fine texture. If one saw a heap of it by the roadside, one would not, even after close examination, think it ‘ rtland rip from £0, N K P ‘ worth while to carry off a pailful. Moulded Yel t rk. Cost of side trip through ew ey urse under hydraulic pressure, however, it makes ations for five and a half days, $49.50. Descriptive actually long needed—a purse forkeys. | very pretty cakes, which, like the silver ones, 4 ‘i F. A. MILLER, : ” w. ™ HOWE ILL, ; prevents keys rusting saves ths are baked for several hours to get rid of the - : see Chica. Agee, oot Gee en wear and tear on trousers and pockets lie trifling amount of water they still contain. : & “he my offices and mints will buy old f t t . t Actual size,2', x4in. M f , Keal Imported Morocce leather ete with nickeled gold and silver from anybody, in lots worth tron fast e, with Your name and not less than $100, and, odd though it may D Vi W. t R li bl A t R + | age mgr dh ath god re ev dees seem, the raw material for our coins is ob- O YOU ant a eila c. ccura e evo ver ae saeael ements re tained largely from the thousands of dealers e A ‘ ey one in second-hand precious metals who are AT HALF THE COST ——— Price George L. Thompson @ Co., Drexel Building Philadelphia scattered overthecountry. Itis wonderful OTHER REVOLVERS ; 7, ain En i Bo how all the old scraps of such stuff, even to SELL FOR? $2.50 y, spectacle rims, are gathered up eventually a aes ‘ and utilized. The case of the watch you are The HOPKINS & ' The hammer cannot touch or reach now wearing will almost surely find its way ALLEN Double Ac- ee 4 aa the trigger is rs ‘ 7 mi. : a ‘es K ite eck . a pulied. t can be used as a single action into one of these Government workshoy 8, . Self Cocking, “as “ or target revolver by pulling the hammer back with and if you have a tooth pull d, you may wae iw = es 2 the finger to full cock, and then pulling the trigger be certain that the gold filling it contains = de and — cla in the came way a8 8 double acti ar volver r self : ‘ . r arr it has a salety re- 4 e frame is made of solid stec seautiful ly PHILADELPHIA will be ‘ xtract ted by the dentist and sold bounding hammer which . = K plated and has a sales stock or handle of —_— to Uncle Sam. 5 alusaue en tincealianan neat design The cylinder and iauka are both Grilled out of a solid piece of drop forged . =a Bae steel of the highest known tensile strength, and the cylinder has a safety device WORK FOR THE WARDENS— How THE Res Say Sees \: to prevent it from turning or revolving backward The barrel is octagon in SMELLERS-OUT OF GAME Go ABOUT —— shape, is well sighted for quick aim, and in every respect a thoroughly reliable ee oe " revolver for pocket or home protection. It is also made im long barrel for target shooting. THEIR TASKS. DESCRIPTION OF SIZES HE business of detecting violations of 22 and 32 calibre for Rim Fire Cartndge Regular length of barrel 2! inc ches, price $2.50 the laws which forbid the shipping of 32 and 38 Smith and Wesson Calibre rs Pa «ee Executive Offices in game from one State to another calls for ; Conte Fie viii —— adel desired ot ” Chamber of Commerce Building much cleverness and ingenuity on the part For sale by all dealers. If your dealer does not handle them, we will send the m ired on receipt of price, postpaid Buffalo, N.Y., U.S.A. of the officials known as ‘‘wardens,”’ some puny TOD Coc ae cares mgaatads demented of hdae eves Pe-adinn aotie aerial ets aisha eee of whom employ hunting-dogs to help them. gress as the It is said that such dogs can be trained to Dept. 15 HOPKINS & AL LEN ARMS co. Norwich, Conn. World’s Clearing House of ‘‘point’’ dead birds in a box as accurately as live ones in a bush. Much of the game thus unlawfully shipped is packed in trunks, the better to evade sus- ee picion. But a warden who understands his wen O nN ~ a : ‘ , moa to the work can detect the cheat by methods of his | ac formation Wor Where and own. In the first place, game is heavy, but st Consoitdated Chambers se etal erent a trunk filled with it does not “feel ike a By STEPHEN C. FOSTER Inveatmente Oppertent ties a { Sommarce, Law, Realty. trunk full of books. In most instances, by I:dited by N. Ciirrorp Pact Health, Travel and Publicity, ami will ix able t lifting and then shaking the trunk, the Twenty Songs i HOS! sites sacle: canted Meh Mmiaiiiee: Neen ay Relies talib, tlow To Get This Service Free officer is able to be reasonably sure. ea take into consideratior importance of Foster’s Melod ‘ ° . . © Ponter ‘ or ! by this cores are in ever er to enable us to start During the last twenty years, in thirty -aiel Ote gin as aia © sabi ae chon waned aes 1 States of the Union, the total volume of bird Liver,” is sung all the world over a token of the esteem i ans we wit Ne as s ‘ life has decreased about fifty per cent. Sh ye Rae Of Sioster, pete sor By pos PREE. After? er : Obviously, then, if we are to hope to have oe any birds at all in the future, it is important y spe that some effective measures should be pee taken for their protection. The develop- antayes ment of the great railroad systems and the oe 16 the modern plan perfecting of cold-storage facilities for ship- ve words and ic of Foster’s songs are most happily wedded both in meaning and spirit. Their ping game to market have had a pr gw d manent place in the hearts of the people. Price, Postpaid, 50 Cents to increase largely the number of birds eae A MAGAZINE IN YOUR rape sctanaliy biled’” Cuca te alleen eat aoe OLIVER DITSON COMPANY, 27 MASON STREET, BOSTON ag FNP ll ‘ we adays from one season to another, and, up idsome colo your own title, insert loca re ng and adver to the time of the passage of restrictive UDSON FREIGHT FORW ARDING co. ee oe laws, it was lereneded in enormous quan- emit Lr ier aes Cec. ~Adiivens tecrotaey tities from all parts of the United States to “ait ; Bide. Chicago ; 2005 : Free Lue BROOKS MAGAZINE SYNDICATE, St. Louis, Me. — supply the great centres of population. arle ldg.,St. 1 851 J'remont Bldg.,Bostoa eme Folding Canvas Boat Co., Miamisburg, Ohio___]

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Page 23

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rks Troy Chemical oe Binghamton N.Y. A CORNER ON HEAVEN N THE desert not far from Bagdad, the city whose name will always be familiar asthe home of Sinbad and Aladdin, isthe little village of Samarra, perched high upon the ruins of its former glory. Samarra is no longe r famous because of its beauty and its . size; it is little more than a collection o mud huts, yet it enjoys the distinction of counting among its inhabitants the greatest monopolist in the world. For years thi crafty old Moslem priest, Abdullah by name has sold building-lots and standing-room in Paradise to the faithful. His stock is ur limited, and to all who apply and are abl to pay the price he presents an imposing deed describing the little portion of Heaver to which the purchaser shall be entitle Priest Abdullah has no need to adver vale his wares, for his fame is spread far and wide throughout the desert by the thou sands of pilgrims who march annually to the sacred cities of Kerbela, Nejef and Mecea. Five Turkish liras, or twenty-two dollars, might purchase a corner lot; a might secure standing-room or even for both, for a much poorer man for one foot, ' smaller sum. rhe story is told, and believed among the Moslems, that a few years ago, when the trade in heavenly real estate was at its height, Ali, an influential Arab, aware of how the poor were being robbed of the little which they had, or seeing a deal which might result advantageously for himself, ing sg the priest with an offer to pur- chase the entire part of the future world known as Hades. The curiosity of the priest, who wondered how any one could desire to purchase any part of the pit of eternal fire, was overcome by the unusual offer of ten liras or forty-four dollars. The transaction was therefore readily com- pleted, and the deed conveying Hades to Ali was drawn up, witnessed, signed and impressively sealed. The proprietor of Hades withdrew with his deed. He had hardly left the prema of the priest when he met a party of pilgrims climbing the mound upon which the village is perched ‘Whither?”’ asked the owner of Hades ‘To the prie st’s house.” a hy ?” he asked. ‘To buy for us a place in Paradise.’ “It is no longer necessary,’’ volunteered the spec ulator. “Why?” asked the astonished pilgrims ‘You must go to Paradise, for I have pur- chased Hades, and I will not admit you there. There is no place but Paradise left for you.”’ Finally, after a long conference and fur- ther explanations, the band of pilgrims, rejoicing that they might taste of the pleas- ures of Paradise without parting from the little money which they possessed, retraced their steps down the hill The priest had lost a number of customers. The report that Ali had purchased Hades spread throughout the desert with amazing rapidity. No longer was it necessary to obtain entrance to Paradise, for now all must go there. Visitors to the house of Abdullah became fewer, and the priest was alarmed, for his source of revenue was rapidly diminishing. His daily sales were few, and finally they ceased altogether. Asa last resort he sought Ali, the possessor of the deed of Hades, and offered to repurchase it. *‘T will give you fifty liras,’’ he said “Fifty thousand,” interrupted Ali. At the mention of this vast sum Abdullah gasped. However, a price had been men- tioned, and in the land of bargaining thor was hope that he might regain the Hades which he had so carelessly rejected. It was a long, hard bargain that the two drove that day. The hours of the morning and after- noon wore away, and, save for brief pe when Abdullah paused to pray, the wran- gling continued. It was aly when the sun was sinking beneath the desert horizon that a conclusion was reached. Hades, which had been sold for ten liras, reverted to the original owner for twenty-five thousand. Once more it was announced to the pass- ing pilgrims that building-lots and standing- room in Paradise were for sale at the old stand. It was explained that Celestial real estate had increased in value on account of an unsuccessful attempt of a syndicate to secure a monopoly of Hades, yet the prices, if slightly advanced, were so low that all profits were eliminated. Edgar riods Banks James THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Our Sanitary and Dustless House Cleaning Mac hinery

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toes ee, Mees eee. ee; Leach. was discharged two days ago and a ge neral alarm has bee n sent out for him.’ ‘This is terrible,’’ groaned Sir Richard in horror. “Tt is, indeed know. I may see you at the opera. good-night.” The receiver fell from the baronet’s fin- gers and the room grew black as he clutched at the mantel with his other hand. Hestag- gered slightly, tried to regain his equilib- rium and struck one of the bronze dragon vases which grinned down upon him. The vase rocked and fell, while the bar- onet clutched at it in its descent. It was too late. The heavy vase crashed downward to the floor carrying Sir Richard with it, and one of the verdigris-covered dragon’s fangs crushed through his right hand. Mortmain uttered a groan and lay motion- less upon the fioor. The little Sévres clock ticked off forty seconds and then softly chimed the quarter, while the blood from the baronet’s hand spurted in a tiny stream upon the rug. V HEN Sir Richard Mortmain next opened his eyes after his fall he found himself in his bedchamber. The curtains were tightly drawn, allowing only a shim- mer of sunshine to creep in and play upon the ceiling; an unknown woman ina nurse's niform was sitting motionless at the foot of nis bed; the air was heavy with the pun- gent odor of iodoform, and his right arm, tightly bandaged and lying extended upon a wooden support before him, throbbed with burning pains. Too weak to move, unable to ——#F what had brought him to such a pass, he raised nis eyebrows inquir- ingly, and in reply the nurse laid her finger upon her lips and reaching toward a stand beside the bed held a tumbler containing a glass tube to the baronet’s lips. Mortmain ucked the contents from the tumbler and felt his pulse strengthen-—then weakness manifested itself and he sank back, his lips framing the unspoken question: “‘ What has happened = The nurse young I thought you ought to If not Mm smiled—she was a pretty, yerson—not the kind Sir (Burne Jones as his type), — > i; " tichard favorec and whispered ‘You have twelve hours had a bad jured.” In some str: ange and unaccountable way the statement called to Mortmain’s fuddle d senses a confused recollection of a scene in Sudermann’s ‘‘Die Versunkene Glécke,” and half-unconsciously he repeated the words fell. I—fe—]—l!” did, indeed! retorted the ‘But Sir Penniston will me if I let you talk. How been unconscious nearly You must lie still. You have fall and your hand is in- es, you pretty hurse. never forgiv e 18 your arm?”’ It burns baronet. That horrid vase crushed right through the palm. Rather a nasty wound. But you will be all right presently. Do you wish anyth ung ? Sudde i complete rushed back to him. The disagreeable scene with Flaggs, the finding of the the news of Russell's murder, and his accident. The murder! He must learn the details And the What had he done with them? He could not recollect, try hard as he would. Were they on the table? His head whirled and he grew suddenly faint The nurse poured out another tumbler from a bottle and again held the tube to his tips How delicious and stre Ravn A ning it was! ‘Please get me a newspaper!" said Si Richard. **A newspaper!”’ cried the nurse sense. I'l] do no such thing!” Then please see if there are some papers in an envelope lying on the writing- in my private study.” The nurse seemed puzz tocratic patients were concerned, particu- larly if they were in a weakened condition, she was accustomed to accommodate them. She hesitated At once!"’ added Sir Richard. The nurse tiptoed out of the room and in the course of a few moments returned “The butler says that Mr. Flynt’s clerk, a man named Faggs, or Flaggs, or some- thing of the sort, came back for them half an hour ago. He explained that he thought and burns!"’ answered the mental capacity notes, notes, Non- table led. Where aris- THE SATURDAY EVENING POST m Page Mr. Flynt might have left some papers by mistake, and the butler supposed it was all right and let him have them. The name of your solicitors was upon the envelope.’ Sir Richard stared at her stupidly. A queer feeling of horror and distrust per- vaded him, the very same feeling which his first sight of the clerk had inspired in him. What could Flaggs have known of the notes? The clerk himself could not have committed the ghastly deed, since he had been under arrest at the time—but might he not have been an accomplice? Were the notes part of some terrible plot to enmesh him, Sir Richard Mortmain, in the murder? Was itascheme of blackmail? The blood surged to his head and dimmed his eyesight. But why had Flaggs taken them away? Had he left them on the street hoping that Sir Richard would find them and bring them into the house, so that he could testify to having found them in the study? But, if so, why had he risked the possibility of their having been destroyed before he could regain them? Clearly, such a supposition was impossible. It must have been merely chance. The fellow had probably sneaked in simply to see what he could find. And what had he found! A shiver of terror quenched for an instant the burning of Mortmain’s body. A horrible vision of himself standing outside the window of Lord Gordon Russell took shape | /~* him. What if people should say ! ’ had been heard by Joyce and the clerk te express his hatred of the old man and his willingness to kill him. In addition there were the notes, overdue and about to be protested, which Flaggs had found in his study within twelve hours of Lord Russell's murder. Motive enough for any crime. Moreover, the policeman had seen him loitering there at almost the exact moment of the homicide! These momentous facts came crushing down upon his brain with the weight of stones, numbing for an instant his exquisite torture—then reason reasserted herself. Lord Russell was dead. If circumstances seemed to point in his direction, he had only to deny that the notes had been in his pos- session, and certainly a peer’s word would be taken as against that of the drunken clerk of asolicitor. Moreover, the notes were obvi- ously not in the possession of * ie executors. Should by any chance no memoranda of them remain he might never be called upon to honor them. At all events, his bank- ruptey had, for the time at least, been averted. Even were their existence known, legal procedure would intervene to give him time to evolve some means of escape perhaps, in default of aught else, a marriage of convenience. Sir Richard, in spite of the burning pain in his right arm, leaned back his head with a sensation of relief. 4 soft knock came at the door and he heard the nurse’s voice murmuring in low tones; then the curtain was partially raised and he recognized the figures of Sir Penniston Crisp and his young as- sistant. ‘Ah, my dear Mortmain! When you left me yesterday morning I hardly ex- pecte d to see you so soon again And how do you find yourself?’’ was the baronet’s cheery salutation. Sir Richard smiled faintly. “Rather a nasty wound,” continued the surgeon ‘Fickles, hand me those band- age scissors. Well, we must take a look atit."’ And he seated himself comfortably by the bedside. Miss Fickles, who had elevated Sir Richard to a sitting posture, now handed Sir Pennis- ton the scissors, and the great physician leisurely cut the bandage from the arm Mortmain winced with pain and closed his eyes. For an instant the outer air soothed the burning palm and forearm, then the blood crept into the veins and the pain became a veritable torture. “Hm!” remarked Sir Penniston. ‘‘I must open this up. It needs attending to.” He might well have said so, for the edges of the wound showed tinges of yellow and the hand itself was crushed pitifully. Sealscope, pass those instruments to Miss Fickles a open that bottle of somni- chloride. I shall have to give you a whiff of anzsthetic, Mortmain. These little exploring expeditions are apt to be painful, however gentle we try to be. Just enough to make you a mere spectator—you will not lose consciousness. Wonderful, isn't (Continued fro N it? I’m afraid I shall have to pick out some shivers of bone and trim off the edges a little. two. Then a nice bandage and you will ms ’ uite at ease. While Jermyn was emptying Sir Pennis- ton’s bag of its heterogeneous contents, Miss Fickles boiled the surgeon’s imple- ments in a tray of water over a tiny electric stove and then arranged them in order upon a soft bed of padded cotton. Scalscope pulled a table to the bedside and laid out with military precision rolls of linen, ab- sorbents, antiseptic gauze, scissors, tape, thread, needle »s, and finally the little bottle of somni-chloride. Richard back upon the pillow and quickly twisted a fresh towel into a cone. “How science leaps onward,” continued Sir Penniston, meditatively taking the cone in his left hand. ‘‘Anodyne, ether, chloroform, nitrous oxide, ethyl-chloride, and at last the greatest of all boons, somni- chloride! And all within my lifetime that is really the most extraordinary part of it. You were at the theatre yesterday morning. You observed how the patient, entirely conscious, felt no pain whatever. Ah, what are the miracles of art to the miracles of science? Think of being able at last, as you heard me announce, to feel sure of never permanently losing a limb!” He allowed a single drop from the bottle to fallinto the cone. Even as it descended it resolved itself into a lilac-colored volatile filling the cone like a horn of plenty. Sir Penniston held it with a smile just over Mortmain's head and suffered it to escape gently downward. At the first faint odor the baronet felt a perfect calm steal over his tired brain, at the second he seemed translated from his body and to be hovering above it, while retaining an almost super- natural acuteness of eye and ear. Of bodily pain he felt nothing. Then Crisp inverted the cone and poured out the lilac smoke in a faint iridescent cloud, which eddied round the baronet’s head and filled his nostrils with the sweet fragrance of an old-fashioned garden. Its perfume almost smothered him, and for a moment his eyes were blurred as if he had inhaled a breath of strong ammonia. Then his sight cleared and he no longer smelt the flowers. The surgeon laid down the and took up a small, thin knife. ‘Fickles, hold the wrist; you, Scalse ope, the fingers. Thank you, that will do nice iy.” Mortmain watched with fascinated ‘in- terest as Sir Penniston applied the point to his palm. Then the surgeon cadineads raised his head and looked pityingly at Sir Richard. At the same moment the effect of the somni-chloride began to wear off and the baronet felt a throbbing in his hand. Jermyn also cast a glance of com- passion at the patient, while Miss Fickles turned away her head as if unable to bear the sight of his suffering. ““My poor Mortmain,” said the surgeon “T fear you can never use this hand again.”’ Mortmain caught his breath and choked ‘*What do you mean?” he gasped, and the effort sent a sharp pain through his lungs. ‘‘Not use my hand again?” His words sounded like the roar of a waterfall. ‘Ifearyoucannot. It isan ugly-looking wound. I am sorry to say you will have to lose your hand. We shall be lucky if we can save the arm.” Mortmain felt an extraordinary pity for himself. He sobbed aloud. vaguely aware that certain unfortunate yersons in lowly circumstances occasionally fost their limbs. He was accustomed to contribute handsomely toward the homes for cripples and the blind, but he had never associated such an affliction with himself. He could not appreciate che proximity of it. There must be a mistake — or an alternative *‘No, no, no!” he exclaimed heavily “Surely, you can restore my hand by treatment. I do not care how painful or tedious it may be. Thy, I must have my hand. I have it now. Leave it as it is. I shall recover in time.”’ Sir Penniston smiled cheerfully. “Tamsorry,” he repeated, and Mortmain fancied that he detected a gleam of ex- ultation in his eye. ‘‘ Nothing can save it. Gangrene has already set in. The verdi- gris of the vase has poisoned the flesh. Do you think I would trifle with you? That isnot my business. Beaman. It is hard; true enough. But it might be much worse.” cone It will only take a moment or | The nurse lowered Sir | He had been | June 2, 1906 Did you ever walk 1 wooden shoes? 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“But my music!” cried Mortmain in agony. “TI shall be a miserable cripple! A fellow with an empty sleeve or a stuffed handinaglove! Horrible!’’ Hegroaned. “You have still another,’’ remarked the surgeon calmly. ‘‘Bind up this arm,” he ordered, turning sharply to Jermyn. ‘“‘Mortmain, I shall have to amputate your hand at the wrist within twelve hours Do you desire a consultation? I assure you any physician would unhesitatingly give the same opinion. Still, if you desire The room swam about him and for an instant the two surgeons seemed like two ogres hovering aloft with bloodthirsty faces glowering down at his helpless body Scalscope finished the bandage and tied the ends. Then he looked across at Crisp and remarked ‘How fortunate, Sir Penniston, that your experiments have been concluded in time to save Sir Richard. He will be the very first to benefit by your great discovery!” Crisp smiled responsively ‘What is that?" cried Mortmain. ‘Save me? What do you mean?” ‘Merely this, Mortmain. That if you are willing I may still give you a hand in place of this ruined on It is possib le, as | an- nounced yesterday, to graft another in its pli ice, Mortmain stared stupidly at Sir Pen- niston. A great weight seemed stifling him ‘Did you really mean it?” he gasped ‘Precisely,’ returned the surgeon. ‘‘It will be difficult, but not particularly dan- gerous ** Another's hand!" groaned the baronet. ‘“‘And why not?” eagerly continued the surgeon. Surely some one will be found who can be induced for a proper considera- tion to assist in an operation that will restore to usefulness so distinguished a member of ocety ‘But is it right?” gasped Mortmain Is it lawful to maim a feilow-creature merely to serve one elf?" The idea disgusted him As you please,’ remarked Crisp dryly If you are to avail yourself of this oppor- tunity, which has never yet been offered to another, you must say so at once. If you are indifferent to the loss of your hand or distrust my skill, there is nothing left but to amputate and be done with it It cannot be right! "’ moaned Mortmain ‘T know it is a wicked thing.” . Right ?”’ sneered = ( risp ‘Why, I alm ost believe that it would be a sin if I let this op portunity go by What is th: aL? cried Miss Fickles sharply There was a sharp knock at the door and Ashley Fly nt entered, with a strange look on his face Like a flash it occurred to Mort- main that the solicitor had called to see him about the bankruptcy. He looked again, and a terrible thought possessed him that it was for something else that the lawyer had come. Was it about the murder? Was he already suspected? Apprehension dwarfed the horror of Sir Penniston’s suggestion “Ah, Flynt,”’ said the surgeon, ‘I am glad you have come. You can advise our friend here. I have offered to give him a new hand in place of the one which he must lose. He’safraid that it isunlawful. Come, give us an opinion!” Flynt sank silently into an armchair and reste d his fi nger-tips lightly tog ther. ‘Flynt,” cried Mortmain, ‘ what a terri- ble thing it is to de prive a fellow-creature of alimb. Is it le egal ? Is it not criminal ?”’ Flynt gazed fixedly at Sir Richard for a moment without replying. ‘*Situations sometimes arise,’’ he re- marked in a toneless voice, ‘‘where the results desired, even if they do not justify the means employed, at least render legal opinions superfluous.” . do not understand you,” groaned Mortmain. ‘‘Do you mean that what Sir Penniston proposes is a crime ? mean that in a transaction of such moment the purely legal aspect of the case may be of slight importance.” “Exactly!” exclaimed Sir Penniston, whose face had assumed an expression of uneasiness. ‘‘To be sure! How plain he puts things, Mortmain. The law ews not concern us when the integrity of the human body is involved.’ ‘But if I require and insist upon your advice?" continued Mortmain “You know that you are my solicitor ‘In a matter of this kind I should refuse to give an opinion in a specific case touching the interest of a client,” returned Flynt ‘“‘T must know the law!” cried the baro- net

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST “Very well,” replied F lyvnt. “‘Thave ex- amined the statutes and find that a statut provides that the maiming of another (save where such maiming is necessary to pre- serve his life or health), even with his con- sent, is a felony. That is the law, if you = have it.” Well, well,”’ exclaimed Cris; rhere are so many laws that one can't help vio lating some of them every day. What an absurd statute! It only shows how ignorant our legislators used to be! I am sure ther were no scientific men in Parliament. It nonsensical.’ Flynt gave a short laugh and aros« ‘My dear Sir Richard,"’ he remarked dryly, ‘this is entirely a matter for your own conscience and that of your physician I trust that you will soon recover. I have an important engagement. I must beg you to excuse me.” “Gad, sir,’ cried Crisp, making a wry face toward the door as it closed be hind the solicitor, ‘“‘what a fellow that is! You might as well try to wring juice out of a paving stone I feel quite irritated by him If I consent,”’ said Mortmain, ‘‘do vou think you can find a proper person to— to “My dear Mortmain,”’ responded Sir Penniston eagerly, “leave that to us. You may be sure that we shall accept no hand that is not perfect in every way and adapted to your particular needs \ yourself not the slightest uneasiness upor that score, I assure you. Of course, you will have to pay for it, but I am convinced that in an affair of this kind a satisfactory ad justment can easily be mad ay, two hun- dred pounds down and an annuity of fifty pounds. How does that strike you? Why, it would be a Godsend to many a poor fellow Say a clerk. He earns a be erarly ive pounce amonth. You n two hur dred pe na Vvear for doing nothing as he was earning working ten hour a day The pains in Mortmain’s hand had beg again with renewed intensity and his whok arm throbbed in re sponse He felt excited and feverish, and his thoughts no longer came with the same clearness and consec\ tiveness as before. It was evident to hin that Crisp’s diagnosis was correct Sut shocking as was the realization that he, who had been in the prime of health but a few hours before, must now undergo a major operation, it was as nothing com \pare d with the moral difficulty in which he found hin self. All his inherited tendencies drew him back from a violation of the law, particu larly a violation which included the main ing of a fellow-being; and so, for that matter, did all his a + lired tastes and characteristics, On the other hand, his con- fidence in Crisp’s skill ar d knowledge was

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such that he never for an instant doubted us ab succe f ] to «il ! Wve that which he ‘he id proposed ‘But the law! The law! cried Mort main in a last and almost effort t

oppose that which he now in reality desired Crisp laughed almost sneeringly : ( hat is the law? The law is for the general good, not the individual. Are we to follow it blindly when to do so would be suicidal? Bah! The law never dares transgress the sacred circle of a physician’: discretion.”’ **T suppose that is quite true! "’ ex Sir Richard faintly I leave it to you Do as you think best. I will follo Ww your instructions. But I am suffering. My hand tortures me horribly) Let us have it over with as soon as possible He soon can you make your arrangements ‘By this afternoon, Sir Richard Maytmain sank back. I his eagernes he had half raised himself from the pillow, and now a sensation of nausea accom- yanied by dizziness took possession of him 1e saw things dimly and in distorted forms There was a strange roaring in his head a of a multitude of waters and he perceived that Crisp and Jermyn were talking eagerly together. He nected words muttered hurriedly in low tones They moved slowly 1 ard the door and he distinctly he ard Cris sp say a they passed out Yes, Flaggs is the very man! The words filled him with a nameles terror “Stop!” he cried, ‘stop! I will have nothing to do with that man— do you hear? Stop! Come back!"’ But the door closed, and Mortmain, helplessand trembling, again fell back and shut his eyes

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Every Dog has His Tree S A BOY I remember my mother was fond of telling the following story: An old Southern darky of ante-bellum days appeared before his master in a most wretched and dilapidated condition. ‘*What’'s the matter, Pompey?”’ inquired his master. ‘Oh, Mars’ John, I’s done had a awful time. I done took a shot at a big bear and he jes’ came right along after me, took my gun away and broke it up to nuffin’. Den I clumba tree and de dog he done clumb a tree, and —— Here his master broke in with, ‘‘Why, you old liar; Pompey, no dog could climb a tree!’’ Pompey answered, ‘‘Why, Mars’ John, de dog done had to climb de tree.”’ Fifteen years after my first recollection of this story I was in one of the smaller cities on the Mississippi Valley, twelve hundred miles from home, a stranger out with a heavy sample case, starting to call on my first customer. My goods were new to me, I'd never sold a bill before, and I guess I was about as green as they make ‘em. After calling on every jobber in town and | being turned down with great regularity, I went back to the hotel to hold council with myself. There I was, with not a soul I knew, thus far a failure for a new house and ‘‘skunked” in my first town. Worse yet, it was my first day. Suddenly the old story came to me, and I immediately de- cided that it was up to this dog to climb his tree. I went back to the best jobber I'd seen in the morning and asked him what he was in the habit of getting for goods such as I had from the retail trade. He told me. “But why?” he asked. ‘I’m going to sell some,” I replied. ‘‘T tell you they won't sell,’’ he answered. That afternoon I spent tramping the streets and by night I'd gathered together a good bunch of orders. It was a very different boy who again presented himself to Mr. Jobber. ‘Well,” said he, ‘‘I’ll just fill those orders oy you, young man.” ‘‘Not much,’’ I replied. I was up the tree and safe. ‘‘If you want those orders you must double them at the least.” When I finally closed with him it was for four times the amount of my sales. I never have been in the same fix or the same place since, but neither have I for- gotten that every dog can climb his tree when he has to. —R. T. B. Other People’s Money Y FIRST and last experience of being accused of being a dishonest man taught me a lesson which I will never forget. A few months after leaving a technical college I was offered the position of assist- ant engineer of construction with a large steel plant in the East. I accepted the osition because the chief engineer had loa one of my closest friends for many years. On the first pay-day the chief engineer was very busy superintending some construction work about one mile from the paymaster’s office, so he asked me to draw his month's wages for him. This I did, filled with gold pieces, the amount of which I did not know. I took the money straight to the engineer and he immediately opened the envelope, counted each piece, and found he was five dollars short. Naturally, suspicion was placed on me as having taken the five dollars, so I offered to give him the amount until I could see the paymaster, for I knew the money had been counted wrongly in the first place. This offer the engineer refused. Next, I went to the paymaster and explained the mat- ter; but he declined to do anything, with the excuse that he had worked for twenty years for the company in his present capacity and had never made a mistake After several days I went to an official of the company, who finally persuaded the paymaster to check over his accounts, and one month later I was notified that the books showed five dollars too much. Thus was I taught to receive no other man’s money, and that even those in the highest positions are liable to mistakes. —A.L.A., Jr. receiving a small yellow envelope | June 2, 1906 An Ideal On-Deck Smoke Phe yachtsman is discriminating in his choice of all good things — particularly in his choice of pipe tobacco and complete satisfaction in his tobacco ; a tobacco that will not blow out of the pipe. Van_BIBBER Sliced Plug Pipe Tobacco a perfect blend all the He must have genuine and above all ‘packs”’ well and

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Page 27

THE SATURDAY THE FIGHTING CHANCE (Continued from Page 13) EVENING POST ‘I think not. But it was too much responsibility for me.”’ I see. Any time I wish to break my neck I am to please do it alone in future.” “Exactly —if you don’t mind,” he said, smiling. They turned, shoulder to shoulder, and walked back through the drenched herbage, “That,” she said impulsively, “is not what / saidafew moments agotoa woman.” *“What did you say a few moments ago to a woman?” ‘I said, Mr. Siward, that I would not leave a—a certain man to go to the devil alone!” ‘““Do you know any man who is going to the devil? ‘Do you?” she asked, letting herself go COAT SH | RT yn 5 out upon a - of intimacy she never dreamed risking —nor had

INSIST ON TH I mM she the slightest idea whither the current FITNESS, WHITENESS A would carry her. $1.50 AND MORE They had stopped on the lawn, ankle- “ON AND OFF LIKE A COAT” deep in wet grass, the stars overhead sparkling magnificently, and in their ears BOOK OF STYLES AND 1 ' AME the outcrash of the sea. ‘You mean me,” he concluded. “ia ae” He looked up into the lovely face; her eyes were very sweet, very clear —clear with excitement — but very friendly. ‘* Let us sit here on the steps a little while, will you?” she asked. So he found a place beside i r, one step

1 WICK’S ADJUSTABLE lowe r, and she leaned forward, elbows on q eB Fancy Hat Bands knees, rounded white chin in "her palms, (The Band with Hooks all rights reserved) the starlight giving her bare arms and shoulders a marble lustre and tinting her Schools Uni versiti es Coll leges. Clubs, Et eyes a deeper amethyst. the hat t the J And now, innocently untethered, mission sehen aes leg woe and all, she laid her heart quite bare—one ; : a twinkling, chapter of it. And, like other women- HEN you buy your Outing Suit be sure to get one that - fete af and 2 ch | | errant who believe in the influence of their ! weight— one that not only looks cool and comfortable, but really Toth sex individually and collectively, she began is. See that it is made to hold its shape A Kuppenheimer wrong by telling him of her engagement perhaps to emphasize her pure disinter- estedness in a crusade for principle only. You will always t good com Which naturally dampened in him any nas- a a a WICK NARROW Len al & Outing Suit will keep you cool — not make you hot under the collar _ Dept. F, Philadelphia cent enthusiasm for being ministered to, A booklet, Styles for Men, \ 41, sent upon request and so preoccupied him that he turned deaf - . e a - ORIENT ‘oive” Backboard | tnicht otherwise have intpressed him as THE HOUSE OF KUPPENHEIMER Drive _ If ucKdOAar: might otherwise have impressed him as §f , 7 discoveries in philosophy. t MAKERS OF GENTLEMEN'S CLOTHES Officially her creed was the fashionable CHICAGO NEW YORK BOSTON one in town; privately she had her own religion, lacking some details truly enough, but shaped upon youthful notions of right and wrong. As she had not read very widely, she supposed that she had dis- covered this aes for herself; she was ne ‘ ; not aware that everybody else had passed Oil, one pint to Wn Power ratio 40 to 1 h that way. ' ‘ Fen eer Wee ; And the ripened fruit of all this philoso- mud. 25 speeds forward, also reve yhy she helpfully dispensed for Siward’s As noted e any sing oe SoRtng Car. 5 venefit as bearing directly on his case Sicaiisisie acces enestaeh tec tisinalaeal Geeulbors Had he not been immersed in the un- rite for free catalogue and agency pr t expected proposition of her impending i WAL SHAM MPS. CO.. Waimem, Mass..U-8. 4 a s might have been impressed, By the BROOKS SY stem for the spell of her beauty counted some- '

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THE SATURDAY

had scarcely expressed to himself; or her instincts had taken a shorter cut to forestall his own conclusion. “Don’t think the things you are think- ing!’’ she said in a fierce little voice, leaning toward him. ‘“What do you mean?” he asked, taken aback “You know! Don’t! It is unfair—it is—is faithless—to me. I am your friend; why not? Does it make any difference to you whom I marry? Cannot two people remain in accord anyway? Their friend- ship concerns one another and—nobody else!’’ She was letting herself go now; she was conscious of it, conscious that im- pulse and emotion were the currents unloosed and hurrying her onward. And with it all came exhilaration, a faint in- toxication, a delicate delight in daring to let go all and trust to impulse and emotions. “Why should you feel hurt because for a moment you let me see—gave me a glimpse of yourself —of life’s battle as you foresee it? What if there is always a reaction from al! confidences exchanged? What if that miserable French cynic did say that never was he more alone than after con- fessing toafriend? He died crazy, anyhow. Is not a rare moment of confidence worth the reaction—the subsidence into the armored shell of self? Teil me truly, Mr. Siward, isn’t it?” Breathless, confused, exhilarated by her own rapid voice, she bent her face, brilliant with color, and very sweet; and he looked up into it, expectant, uncertain. “If such a friendship as ours is to become worth anything to you—-to me, why should it trouble you that I know—and am thinking of things that concern you? Is it because the confidence is one-sided? Is it because you have given and I have listened and given nothing in return to balance the account? I do give—interest, deep inter- est, sympathy if you ask it; I give con- fidence in return-—if you desire it!”’ ‘*What can a girl like you need of sym- pathy ?”’ he said, smiling. “You don't know! You don’t know! If heredity is a dark vista, and if you must stare through it all your life, sword in hand, always on your guard, do you think you are the only one?” “Are you —one?”’ he said incredulously. ‘Yes"’—with an involuntary shudder “not that way. It is easier for me; I think it is—I know it is. But there are things to combat —-impulses, a recklessness, per- haps something almost ruthless. What else I do not know, for I have never ex- perienced violent emotions of any sort never even deep emotion.” “You are in a e!”’ ‘Yes, thoroughly,’ she added with con- viction, ‘‘but not violently. I-—-—” She hesitated, stopped short, leaning forward, peering at him through the dusk; and: “Mr. Siward! are you laughing?’’ She rose and he stood up instantly. There was lightning in her darkening eyes now; in his something that glimmered and danced. She watched it, fascinated, then of a sudden the storm broke and they were both laughing convulsively, face to face there under the stars. ‘*Mr. Siward,"’ she breathed, ‘‘I don’t know what I am laughing at; do you? Is itatyou? Atmyself? Atmy poor philos- ophy in shreds and tatters? Is it some infernal mirth that you seem to be able to kindle in me —for I never knew a man like you before?’ ‘*You don't know what you were laughing at?” he repeated. ‘It was something about love _ ‘No, I don't know why I laughed! I--I don't wish to, Mr. Siward. I do not desire to laugh at anything you have made me say -anything you may infer “3 I don’t infer ‘i Youdo! You made me say something about my being ignorant of deep, of violent emotion, when I had just informed you that I am thoroughly, thoroughly in love 7 “Did I make you say all that, Miss Landis?” “You did. Then you laughed and made me laugh, too. Then you . What did I do then?” he asked, far too humbly. ‘You you infer that I am either not in love or incapable of it, or too ignorant of it to know what I’m talking about. That, Mr. Siward, is what you have done to me to-night.” " I'm sorry “Are you?” “T ought to be, anyway,” he said.

EVENING POST June 2, 1906

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Schools and Colleges

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It was unfortunate; an utterly inex- cusable laughter seemed to bewitch them, hovering always close to his lips and hers “How can you laugh!”"’ she said. ‘‘ How dare you! I don't care for you nearly as violently asI did, Mr. Siward. A friendship between us would not be at all good for me. Things pass too swiftly —too inti- mately. There is too much mockery in you--—” She ceased suddenly, watching the sombre alteration of his face; and, “Have I hurt you?” she asked penitently 1.9 “Have I, Mr. Siward? I did not mean it.” The attitude, the words, slackening to a trailing sweetness, and then the mo- me ent's silence, stirred him. “I'm rather ignorant myself of violent emotion,”” he said. ‘I suspect normal people are. You know better than I do \“ hethe *r love is usually a sedative.’ ‘Am I normal—after what I have confessed?” she asked. “Can't love be well-bred ?”’ “ Perfectly, I should say—only perhaps you are not an expert r “In what?” “In self-analysis, for example.” There was a vague meaning in the gaze they v exchanged. “As for our friendship, we'll do the best we can for it, no matter what occurs,”’ he added, thinking of Quarrier —and, thinking of him, glanced up to see him within earshot and moving straight toward them from the veranda above There was a short silence; a tentative civil word from Siward; then Miss Landis took command of something that had a grotesque resemblance to a situation. A few minutes later they returned slowly to the house, the girl walking serenely between Siward and her preoccupied affianced “Tf your shoes are as wet as my skirts and ‘slippers you had better change, Mr Siward,”’ she said, pausing at the foot of the staircase. So he took his congé, leaving her standing there with Quarrier, and mounted to his room, In the corridor he passed Ferrall, who had finished his business correspondence and was returning to the card-room. ‘Here's a letter that Grace wants you to see,”’ he said. ‘Read it before you turn in, Stephen.” “All right; but I'll be down later,” replied Siward, passing on, the letter in his hand. Entering his room he kicked off his wet pumps and found dry ones; then moved A coe whistling a gay air from some recent vaudeville, busy with rough towels and silken footgear, until, reshod and dry, he was ready to descend once more. The encounter, the suddenly informal acquaintance with this young girl had stirred him agreeably, leaving a slight exhilaration. Even her engagement to Quarrier added a tinge of malice to his interests. Besides, he was young enough to feel the flattery of her concern for him of her rebuke, of her imprudence, her gen- erous emotional and childish philosophy Whistling under his breath the same gay, empty melody, he opened the top drawer of his dresser, dropped in his mother’s letter and locking the drawer, pocketed the ke y. He would have time enough to read the letter when he went to bed; he did not just now feel exactly like skimming through the fond, foolish sermon which he knew had been preached at him through his mother’s favorite missionary, Grace Ferrall. What was the use of dragging in the sad old questionsagain of repeating hisassurances of good behavior, of reiterating his prom- ises of moderation and watchfulness, of explaining his own self-confidence? Better that the letter await his bedtime— his prayers would be the sincerer the fresher the impression; for he was old-fashioned enough to say the vrayers that an immature philesephy proved superfluous. For, he thought, if prayer is of any use, it takes only a few minutes to be on the safe side So he went downstairs leisurely, prepared to acquiesce in any suggestion from any- body, but rather hoping to saunter across Sylvia Landis’ path before being com- mitted. She was standing beside the fire with Quarrier, one foot on the fender, apparently too preoccupied to notice him; so_ he strolled into the gun-room There were a few women there, and the majority of the men. Lord Alderdene, Major Belwether and Mortimer were at a table by themselves; stacks of ivory a and five cards spread in the centre of the

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST

But it is worth ten times that figure most of all er nver n the Ardrey Vehicle Washer t t rouble ird work , 1 disa tr t with “*The Ardre W ‘hat “The Ardrey” Will Do The Ardrey ; . What « The Ardrey *’ Won't Do Made in Solid Brass— Price $3.00 Solid braas, high polished, $4.00, Nickeled Silver finish $4.00 With patent leather leather case $3 00 extra The Ardrey roklet YOUR MONEY BACK IF YOU WANT fT Ardrey Vehicle Washer Co., Rochester, N.Y , | .S A, Sole Makers and Patentces

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and ¢ The teed Be | Lo. THAT DAINTY MINT COVERED CANDY COATED CHEWING GUM ee rey Them! utts en Your Laundry Bills in Hali LITHO! IN’ " Waterproote -d Linen will do it for you HNpervic minute to per pira ] with eeper FIVE CENTS THE OUNCE AND IN ee AND 25 PACKETS ies REALLY DELIGHTFUL AOA ROROR OER OER AORN ROO ORO OO Oe ST RIGHT AFTER DINNE ER t Chiclets n your ne t ‘ Chiclets. FRANK H. FLEER & COMPANY, Inc Philadelphia, U , and Toronto, Canada “Old Hickory’’ Andrew Jackson Chair Spee iat in troductory Ofte The Old Hi her at PREE ¢ Mark Z estQu ality kory Chair Co Martinevili e, Ind HOS { | | | SKINS 904-6 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia Greens Up the Lawn at Once *, CASS MPG. co., Detroit, (ioes on Garden Hose “23 Michigan | and Mortimer, raising his heavy, people THE SATURDAY EVENING POST inflamed eyes and seeing Siward unoccupied, said wheezily: ‘‘Cut out that ‘widow,’ and give Siward his stack! Anything above two pairs for a jack triples the ante. Come on, Siward, there’s a decent chap!” So he seated himself for a sacrifice to the blind goddess balanced upon her winged wheel; and the cards ran high—so hig that stacks dwindled or toppled within the half-hour, and Mortimer grew redder and redder, and Major Belwether blander and blander, and Alderdene’s face wore a continual nervous snicker showing every white hound’s tooth, and the ice in the tall glasses clinked ceaselessly. It was late when Quarrier “sat in,’’ with an expressionless acknowledgment of Si- ward's presence, and an emotionless raid upon his ne ighbor’ s resources with the first hand dealt in which he participated without drawing a card. And always Siward, eyes on his cards, seemed to see Quarrier before him, his overmanicured fingers caressing his silky beard, the symmetrical pompadour, dark and thick as the winter fur on a rat, tufting his smooth, blank forehead. It was very late when Siward first began to be aware of his increasing deafness, the difficulty, too, that he had in making hear, the annoying contempt in Quarrier’s womanlike eyes. he was making a fool of himself, very noiselessly somehow — but with more racket than he expected when he miscalculated the distance between his hand and a decanter. It was time for him to go—unless he chose to ask Quarrier for an explanation of that sneer which he found distasteful. But there was too much noise, too much laugh- ter. Besides, he had a matter to attend to the careful perusal of his mother’s letter to Mrs. Ferrall Very white, he rose. After an indeter- minate interval he found himself entering his room. The letter was in the dresser; several things seemed to fall and break, but he got the letter, sank down on the bed’s edge and strove to read —set his teeth grimly, forcing his blurred eyes to a focus. But he could make nothing of it—nor of his toilette either, nor of Ferrall, who came in on his way to bed, having noticed the lights still in full glare over the open transom, and who straightened out matters for the stunned man lying face downward across the bed, his mother’s letter crushed in his nerveless hand. (TO BE CONTINUED) THE FIRE-EATERS (Concluded from Page 7) Menefee; and I am confident that you acted with the consent and approval of Messrs. Duncan and Bynum. These four gentlemen were just as responsible for the whole conduct of the affair as you and I, yet you and I alone were ever assailed for the three exchanges of shots.’ Now you and | know that there was really but one deliberate exchange of shots; the third time after each party, in turn—Cilley in his first shot and Graves in his second had blundered in his fire, and they would not and could not leave the ground under the accidents which would have caused mis- apprehension and perhaps ridicule. the ‘re was no difficulty, dissension or complaint between you and myself from the first to the last of the affair. All fair- ness and every courtesy were observed. The preliminaries were settled without a jar; you won the word and the choice of position fell to me. You fronted me half- way the line of fire, held yourself in position ‘harbarous | to be equally heard, and delivered the word aloud, distinctly and fairly as prescribed. My eyes were turned upon Mr. Cilley to see if he observed the terms, and he fired first, nearly about the count ‘One,’ Graves last about the word ‘Two.’ “Mr. Cilley’s ball struck the ground between your position and mine, forty steps from his stand. Graves missed him the first shot. Mr. Cilley was evidently disturbed by losing his shot and firing too quick. You ran to him and something passed which showed Mr. Cilley was ex- cited and, I knew, would make no concession without another fire. ‘Then, in turn, Mr. Graves lost his shot at the second exchange. He had a large, coarse hand, and no sense of touch fine enough for a hair-trigger, and no experience with firearms. My orderstohim, therefore, were to hold his rifle cocked, hair-trigger set, according to terms, horizontal; at the word ‘Fire’ to push his gun forward, so as to bring the breech firmly to his shoulder and then level the sight on the vertical, covering his antagonist’s person, and to fire when he raised as high as the hip of his antagonist; and to insure deliberation and to prevent losing his shot to kee p his finger out of the spanner until the instant of pulling the trigger. This he did the first time, and he fired plenty quick enough. But the second shot, whilst I was forty yards off at my position, Mr. Menefee (he and Crittenden stood on either side of Graves, as Duncan and Bynum did on either side of Cilley), when he put the rifle in Graves’ hand, told him he fired too slow the first time, and upon Graves telling him of my orders, he, Menefee, objected to it and prevailed on him to put his finger in the spanner. ‘The result was as I had predicted. At the word ‘Fire,’ and as he pushed his gun forward and raised the breech to his shoul- der it was discharged into the ground not three feet from his toes. With his eye fixed on Cilley, seeing no smoke and feeling no recoil, he was unconscious that his gun was fired, and raised and stood pulling at his trigger when he received Cilley’s fire again about the count ‘Two.’ He stood still yulling at his trigger until the count was out. Thinking he was writhing from a wound, I ran to him and he dropped the breech of his rifle to the ground, thew in the muzzle and exclaimed: “**Why, this gun is discharged!’ “He and Menefee at once explained the cause. But he was very much mystified and nothing could have prevented him from demanding another exchange of shots. When you came up—as you did every time to inquire whether Graves was satisfied you could receive but one answer: not without some disclaimer—and Graves’ awkwardness caused me to give you the notice I did, so much denounced, that after the third fire I would demand a shortening of the distance. “By the time of the third exchange of shots both were well trained, were deliber- ate, and Graves strictly obeyed my orders. At the count ‘Two,’ or a moment before, Mr. Cilley fired, and about an instant after ‘Two’ Graves fired and made the vertical line shot just above the hip. Thus ended the fight. ‘* Both of Cilley’s last two shots were very fine; they passed through the fence logs just behind Graves, one at the elevation of is breast, the other in a line perpendicular to the first and at the elevation of the hip. If his coat had been unbuttoned both balls would have perforated its lapels. His life was saved by his position. The wind blew steadily fresh obliquely against Mr. Cilley’s ball. I was sure the aim would be at the centre of Graves’ body, and allowing about from four to six inches for the deflection to the left of Cilley and right of Graves, I selected the position I did, though disad- vantageous in other respects.”’ There was never a dispute about any facts between the representatives of Graves andCilley. Mr. Cilley fought with weapons of his own selection, and the duel was as nearly fair as any duel can be. He shot to kill; only missed his opponent’s vitals by miscalculating the force of the wind; was himself killed rather by chance than by the skill of his adversary; and, as he was unquestionably a brave man and had acce — that arbitrament, no reproach would ever have escaped his lips if he might have spoken. But the Graves-Cilley duel made a tremendous storm throughout the country. Nothing was done about it officially, for dueling was countenanced, more or less, but it was a long time before the bitterness and recrimination about the Graves-Cilley duel subsided. It was brought up against Clay in his next candidacy, and his attempts to shuffle off responsibility upon others caused a breach between him and my father, who charged him with selfishly seeking to re- lieve himself from the odium of a duel for which he, more than any living man, was responsible. He felt that | June 2, 1906 we ~~ wr | \ It Reads from the Seat . rhe big, plain figures of the Auto-Meter, shown actual size above) can be easily \ read for six feet or more Iry it your \ self. The dial stay teady, for sperd me mov t. Thereist ning: beek ane forth, \\ ak o little hand, intil y whether you re going if five then an Sih en, on ! ther your car i tippec he ‘aabe- Meter rate, dependable reliable a N actuated t the Situ no ge sf ayt : Auto. Meter’ is accura accurat “a nueedt St., Beloit, Wis. AutoMeter htning y reezer its Automat Twin Scrapers and famous wheel dasher shown above. Che scrapers press automati side of Cal let, “ Frozen Swee +, FREE North Bros. Mfg. Co., "Philadelphia ay Worth of Calling Cards $ 1. th and Fine Stationery Until July isth we offer a Co per Plate e raved in Black Old English or Roman am 0 finest quality Calling cards regular price $ und 1 2-quire box of apna? stati onery embossed th 2 r 3 letter dies, 6 kinds paper 1 ce $1 25. $3.00" in vaiue for only $1.75 de levered anywhere in the United States Send at once for descript cire ar Don’t dela Wenerne hay dimers ga and ANNOUNCEMENTS 53.0 with n une ART ISTIC ENGRAV ING COMPANY | 1626 Vine Street Philadelphia ——- The eg = _ fin cried vital ¢ the liams Telephone and & , 103 Central Ave., Cleveland, 0, LET ME SELL Your Patent | Booklet explainir ifteen years’ t ul x« ve a Patent for r write “WIL LIAM BE. HOYT Patent Sales Specialist 290 P Broadway, N.Y. 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Make your boy’s food tasty — Mother —for it has to do some big things. It has to make flesh, blood, bone and muscle and supply boundless Energy. Remember, the boy of to-day is the man of tomorrow. Don’t injure him physically and mentally with indigestible meats, pastries, rich puddings, etc., that act as a drain on his nervous energy. But feed him plenty of all there is in wheat — and he'll be your heart's joy — strong, healthy, bright, smart and quick at his studies. You won't have to coax him to eat it either, Mother, for its delicious rich flavor when eaten with cream and sugar Is just w hat he craves most for. Egg-O-See keeps the blood cool and is the ideal summer food. Give him some tomorrow —“ there won't be no leavin’s.” Prepared under conditions of scrupulous cleanliness. Every grocer in the country sells EGG-O-SEE —the whole wheat cereal. If your grocer has not received his supply, mail us 10 cents and his name (15 cents west of the Rocky Mountains) and we will send you a package of EGG-O-SEE and a copy of the book, “-back to nature.” Our 32-page book, “back to nature, outlines a plan of right living, including menus for 7 days and recipes for pre- paring the necessary dishes, based on a whole wheat diet, Ww ith suggestions for bathing, eating and exercise, illustrated trom 2 eo sore” life, exceedingly simple and attractive. By following its precepts, abounding and vigorous health is sure to result. Pr en het Published to sell at 25 cents a copy, this handsomely illustrated book will be mailed FREE to anyone who er "Cri . ee i ‘ — *. . 3 ; = is writes, as long as this edition lasts. Address Y ¢ Delicioan® EGG-O-SEE CEREAL COMPANY A yi tAMVPACTURED. x 458-508 Front Street Quincy, Illinois NCY ILLINOIS Usa