The Saturday Evening Post 1919-03-15: Vol 191 Iss 37

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Vol. 191, No. 37. Published Weekly at Philadelphia Entered as Second-Class Mat- ter, November 18, 1879, at the Post Office at Philadelphia, Under the Act of March 3,1879 In This Number Henry Watterson — Nina Wilcox Putnam Joseph Hergesheimer —Josephine DasKam Bacon — Meyer Bloomfield — Nalbro Bartley

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Ne ee ZT “My! How Valspar Varnish brightens that old linoleum!” \\ THERENVI leum or oil In halls and vestibules Valspar will protect linoleum th against scuffing feet and dripping umbrellas. i ly ’ ‘ 1 le! | ! ‘ . * . | ) vill by ited with the resu Phe Valspar will Try it! Give your linoleum two coats of Valspar, allowing the first coat to harden at least a week before K you have linoleum, conge r home, varnish it with Valspar after it we floor thi or four months ’ ¢ . . ° 4 ; Valspar ts easy to apply and it dries over night. , " nten it up, but will make it /as¢ « vreal dea I if will t ike much of the surface wear and applying the second. prevent th vnetration of moisture. ; . ° 5 . ° , ; And beware of this: Don’t be led into using any ordi \ part leur in be washed with soapand warm © nary varnish on linoleum. You must have the ishable, int ,evel { é has no« Hecton Valspar. wale proof varnish that will not turn hite Valspar! Hlot wrea n spatter or spill on Valsparred kitchen VALENTINE & COMPANY, 458 Fourth Ave., N.Y. njuring the finish or soaking in. Largest Manufacturers of High-grade Varnishes in the World—Established 18 New York Chicago LE N loront 8 andon ls, such as vinegar, ammonia and alcohol, on VAR ISHS eee re Valspar. W. P. Furter & Co., San Francisco and Principal Pacific Coast Citi - sinning ee ae Special Offer: 1) . I ¢ x ; VALENTINE S | uy L/ D j 4 . , * . : The Varnish That Won’t Turn White Copyriz 1919, V nine & Company

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Westclox ERE they are: the four top- notchers in the Westclox line. Big Ben heads the family. He’s a good, substantial timekeeper and a loyal call-clock. At his right, America: trim, alert, competent. Then Sleep- Meter, a close second to Big Ben; refined, neighborly, watchful. Last but least only in size comes little brother, Baby Ben, who tucks cozily into places where Big Ben might feel out of place. They’re all faithful timekeepers and punctual alarms. They all have that same good Westclox construction. They all wear our quality-pledge, Westclox. Western Clock Co. - makers of @estclox La Salle & Peru, Illinois, U. S. A..

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2 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST March 15,1919 HOLE? ©

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Company Hi. D. Walker, E. Dinsmore, Cyrus H. HK. Curtis, President uovaclanp EGtaek C,H. Ludington, Vice-President and Treasurer Walter H. Dower, Art Editor P.S. Collins, Generel Business Manager Walter D. Fuller, Secretary William Boyd, Advertising Director Entered as Second-Class Matter, November 15 . - 1579. at the Post Office ot Philadelphia, Independence Square, Philadelphia Founded AD! 1728 by Benj. Franklin Under the Aer (March ; 1679 Published Weekly George Horace Lorimer = 3 a EDITOR The Curtis Publishing FS. Bigelow, A.W. Neall, London: 0. Henrietta Street Entered as Second-Class Matier at the ovent Garden, W.C Copyright, 1919, by the Curtis Publishing Company in the United States end Great Britain Post-Office Department, Ottawa, Caneda | | Volume 191 poy he need PHILADELPHIA, MARCH 15, 1919 $2.00 THE YEAR Number 37 by Subscription Tile BLOOMING ANGEL S THIS is but a reporter’s record of that hard ] ““So you have, dear.”” Her large face softened contested case The Immortal Gods vs. The VY to a look of maternal pride. ‘‘Ches, it’s high time Red Tam-o’-Shanter it might be simplest you was going with some girls— nice girls, | mean to begin near the point of contact between ILLUSTRATED BY MAY WILSON PRESTON None o’ them highty-tighty fly-away red Tam-o’- Olympus and a headpiece more disturbing than Shanters, smoking cigareets on the sly, what with fair Helen’s hank of hair. paint and powder and loud behavior with men In the easy-going babyhood of the twentieth But I believe in marrying young; your father and century—I then being an unkempt sophomore me was married when we was picking hops on a there stood upon the museum of Dyak I niversity farm up in Napa But you re educated, Che four tall, stark ancients, sixteen-footers by actual , / And Carlotta Beam, being a professor's daughter measurement; and these figures, like many another E and serious , unattainable ideal, repelled the average ‘ \t , “I’m not married yet,”’ declared her son as he imagination and cast afrost upon the youth- iN Ban's . fussed with the stringy black cravat, which when ful passer-by. In the last sunset rays of one lovely California evening this pompous four presided abstractedly over the huddle human scene and, for all I know, focusec their blind marble gaze upon a small build ing in the outskirts of Dyak, a poor little house loudly labeled Bon Ton I tundry The ancient four were, as you have by now guessed, statues; but he who was at that moment putting a finishing touch on his shave somewhere behind the Bon Tor sign was quiveringly human. The statues were supposed to be of Carrara marble, though the smallest freshman in the world who had risked his foolish neck to decorate their togaed chests with the numerals 1900 testified unofficially that they were nothing but cast iron enameled white and treated with a coat of waterproof varnish. As you counted them, left to right, they were intended likenesse¢ of Phidias, A’schylus, Demosthene and Homer. The cigarette-whiffing multitude who passed below, daily flowing toward History 5-B, learned long since to address them rather familiarly as Hideous, Er; Gazabo and Jeff. The average boy is a realist; but Chester A. Framm, during his three and a fraction years of college life, had been too self supporting and self-sufficient to tied accentuated his parliamentary appearance “No, but you must look round. She's got ambitions, that Beam girl. And not only that she’s the sort that'll put ambition into any **T don’t know as I want to ber ome a profes or, exactly,”” he demurred ‘You don’t need to, Ches. But I don't , you shall go into the laundry business And you shan’t be one of them society sport intend vot what with giggling yellow-haired chits ar dancing all night . “Where's my coat?” interrupted herhear treasure Mrs. Framm brought the greenish thing ou of a closet. They called them Prince Alber* in those days, and this example had belonged to the late Mr. Framm. It hung loosely over Chester’s rangy form, but combined with hi halo of blond hair and his senatorial count: nance the ensemble was imposing “Oh, Chester!” erjed his mother, “if y could become a great orator I'd die happy. | would indeed. Are you going to take M Carlotta to the dee bate “*Why—ah’’— he had slipped on his shabb brown hat and stood wincing to be off —‘'] promised to escort her to the hall. She the (i | y principal for the negative What’s it all about—this dee-bate?"’ ‘Resolved: That Application is more us« ful than Genius.” ‘It is,’ decreed his Spartan mother. ‘‘ And catch the spirit of the crowd Le good night, deari« And make a good peech and his mother had come all the way And just follow Miss Carlotta’s advice in from Napa County to thi ¢ nd-rate but everything —she’s the wt of girl that riving institution. Being a few years older She encircled his neck with the strong arn than the average student had helped him to finance his mother from a washerwoman which for as long as he could remember had been bare up to the elbow nto a laundry. Life had been real, earnest . After a dutiful kiss he was speeding into the and unsocial with him, as it is apt to be with rN. dusk when she called after him: ‘ Ches-ter! » young man who gains his college degree eect He came back into the light of the doorwa the sweat of his brow. area and saw she holding out to hin ( i Chester was rubbing that brow with a th f he ag «(objects—a brown book and a disk of tir lamp towel as, on the eve of great possibili- é —— , **Here’s your Platform Elegance he told ties, he came out of the washroom and con- him. “You might need it to lool mething fronted his mother in the neat itting room, “You've Lost Your Notes, Mr. Cicero," Came a Naive Treble uD il which despite its detachment from business “Thank you always reeked of hot irons upon starchy muslin. He was a tall young man with rather “And you'd better take this can of Ajax Hay Fever Bal You knov r ha 1 magnificent head; a size too magnificent, perhaps, for his destiny. Some remote fever—excuse me. I forgot you never liked to have it mentioned. But t time of Scandinavian ancestor who had given him his name had substituted a sense of sublimity year when everything's gone to seed and it’s sort of dry and the greasewood begins blow for a sense of humor —or possibly this is unfair ing--I thought you looked sort o’ red round the nostrils this mort “Ches,” said the square, red-elbowed woman, who sat near the oilclothed table and ““T won't need it, thank you.” raised her steel-framed spectacles, ‘‘are you going to be the principal speaker in this And Chester A. Framm stalked away toward higher thing dee-bate at Adelphi Hall?” “No, ma,” he confessed, blushing a northern blush. ‘‘I was only admitted to the A great orange-colored moon was rising in the east, gilding the dry tattered stall debating society last week. Carlotta says that I ought to begin in a small way.” of eucalyptus trees along the walk toward Faculty Row; oc: he conical nu “Oh!"’ Mrs. Framm was plainly disappointed. Then her rock-bound old face would fall among dry leaves, giving forth the crackle of fa wrinkled to a grim smile as she soliloquized: “So you're calling her Carlotta now!"’ distance Chester could see the white facade of the museu f top-hea “‘There’s no crime in that,”’ he grunted, well aware that the blush was encroaching brethren guarding the roof. Fame, immortality, disdain of compromise! Why had ¢ upon his shoulder blades. “I’ve known her over a month.” “lotta Beam souvht him out from the mass and chosen him for the high peaks of destir

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4 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Chester A. Framm had just turned twenty-five He was r early in his senior year at Dyak, and though the col- lege could not rank with Leland Stanford or the University f California, three years of constant application at his { pal study, econon had convinced him that he had ficient ability to lead a class of several hundred in a race for } r . Alwa hy of young women he had carefully avoided the or |e alluring glances of the coeducational half, istered in lecture halls or round the Quad His mother had been ambitious for him in a general way; her dreams had never gone beyond the state which she 1 educated Chester had started colle we life late; yet wspirations had been as fluid and nebulous as any cher- i by the ightest-minded Gamma Gamma on the impus—until erystallization had come through contact th Carlotta Beam. Professor Cyrus Beam, who conducted the English Department, had asked him with the rest of the senior iss to a reception on Faculty Row. That was early in the emester. On that occasion Chester had been all feet and inds, treading on toes, knocking over bric-a-brac in the rush of distinguished educators at the Beam cottage. Mr Beam—popularly known as Hissing Hattie—had en hands clammily and all but seared him to death le had been wondering, as bashful men do, if he could ‘ ipe without attracting too much attention, when Carlotta herself, a vision in flowing white, had come swim- iing toward him out of the intellectual mob It had been tremendously confusing, uplifting, inspiring. Carlotta, who was stately and rather tall, had fixed him with a tragic look of interest on her serious face; she was mandsome in a Slavic way, though somewhat inclined to allowness. Chester's first thought had been that here was in anchor to which he could tie his seasick craft; eVery viece of furniture in the room contained a plaster cast and had already knocked down two. Carlotta had seemed is anxious to learn about him as though he had been some vaulting celebrity already arrived “Why don't you try for the William H. Barbour prize he had asked him over her lemonade later in the evening 9" 1 entrancement, (Chester had stuttered something to the effect that he id never made a speech in his life, that he didn’t even elong to the debating society. ‘Not be long to the debating society !"’ The fair Car- otta showed just a trace of resemblance to Hissing Hattie that shocked exclamation. ‘“‘ You must join to-morrow. | owe more to the debating society than to any other one } ng Then he had remembered that Carlotta’s oration had won the prize the year before. Did she think he had even i slight chance? Carlotta was sure of it. Chester had been faint with emotion as he poured forth confessions such as he had never made to any man or woman; #ons f space, chasms of ambitious distance he had leaped in that first revealing conversation. Walking along to-night in California’s winter moon- light, the Mighty Four looming closer in the distance, Chester thrilled again to think of that high purpose to which she had roused him. America needs orators,” she had said, regarding him with the look of a muse about to burst into a tragic song. “Our statesmen to- day are little business men quarreling over petty fig- ures, Where are our Web- ters and Clays and Patrick Henrys Where, oh where? “Do you think you could make an orator out of me?” He should have been stricken dead for the im piety, but she had rewarded him with a smile ‘“*With guidance you could accomplish anything. But you must take a vow néver to lower your stand irds, never to make any cheap conce ions to life ‘ He had vowed it thrice before the close of the eve ning; and ere he had hunted up the hat which was to cover his whirling intellect she had promised to tutor him in forensics, to teach him the rudiments of the Demosthenean art. And as they shook hands in that exalted first good-by she had presented him with the text- book which was to be his ne testament Its title in full was Platform Elegance; or First Steps in Forensics. It was written about 1873 by a genius of Dyak University who had spent his life classifying all the human emotions and framing them in a series of complicated charts. The emotions, it seems, were seven, but each of the seven had from nine to ninety subemotions. There was a right-hand and left-hand gesture for each emotion, with a set of attitudes and grimaces attached thereto. For instance, if one wished to express hatred one clenched the right fist Gesture Twelve—and while lifting the elbow to an angle of forty-five degrees, advanced the right foot, slightly bending the knee, at the same time retarding the left shoulder and tightening the facial muscles to the dia- bolical expression illustrated in Cut Forty-six. Platform Elegance was enriched by numerous steel engravings show- ing the model orator—a young man with side whiskers, abundant hair, and a face quite pallid with all the emotions and subemotions mentioned in the charts. He had gone to Carlotta almost daily during this en- chanted month; they had sat together in her father’s smugly classic library, where under an enlarged photograph of the ruined Parthenon she had gracefully demonstrated her art—the all but forgotten art of public speaking. He learned to handle his “‘a’s”’ broadly, not to squeak them out as uncultured persons do; he learned that “duty” should be pronounced “‘dyeuty”’; but principally he learned that the very breath of greatness came, well-poised, from those finely turned lips. She sometimes looked at him in such a way—it was as though a marble goddess had leaned from her pedestal and whispered: ‘‘ Mortal, thou shalt be mine!” “*Wednesday night you must be at the debating society,” she had commanded a few sessions ago. He had been saying good afternoon in the little hallway and there had been something lingeringly significant about it. Chester knew next to nothing about these girl things. Sometimes she made him quite nervous. ‘‘I am to lead in the negative. After the regular debate there will be fifteen minutes of informal discussion for beginners.” “‘I—I've got to have something to talk about, haven't I?” he had asked falteringly. “Not necessarily. It’s the drill you need—thinking on your feet.” “Of course.’ “Surely it will not be hard for you to formulate deductions from the ideas you will hear.” “Surely it will not,’’ had parroted the candidate for rostrum honors. His thumb had brushed her fingers as she was reaching out for the doorknob. ‘Could I have the honor of escorting you there to the oh, you know—Adelphi Hall on Wednesday?” “IT should be delighted, I am sure.”’ And here it was, Wednesday. His moonlit walk toward Faculty Row had now taken him as far as the broad concrete walk facing the sawed-off Doric beauties of the museum. Above him the four tall statues loomed in the elf light. Chester A. Framm paused and permitted his fame-aspiring eyes to linger upon the bearded, metallic, thin-robed gentle- man whom history called Demos- thenes and whom the student body miscalled Gazabo. Demosthenes! He Learned to Handie His ‘‘a's'’' Broadty; But Principally He Learned That the Very Breath of Greatness Came From Those Finely Turned Lips March 15,1919 How the white hero shimmered under the glimpses of the moon, fingering a sculptured scroll—doubtless the notes from which he spoke—the while his long, spare forearm forever extended itself into an imitation of Gesture Eight- een, Platform Elegance. “Immortality !”’ Chester A. Framm said this aloud, and blushed at the sound of his own voice. Little clouds were flying across the moon; flying souls, they seemed, hymning together the greatness of the spirit. Starkly stood Demosthenes upon his dizzy roof edge, poised as though just about to make a few choice remarks in behalf of the people of Megalopolis; which would have benefited little an under- graduate who had barely struggled through that paragraph in Xenophon which confesses that of Darius and Parysatis gignontai paides duo. ““Speak!”’ whispered Chester A. Framm. But the father of all spellbinders responded not to the invitation. The divine lips were stony, the divine throat was never cleared. Possibly the lofty Demosthenes was waiting to be introduced by Homer, who stood at his right in an attitude which was distinctly presidential. Still the immortals held their peace. Under the electric lamp which spot-lighted the walk leading from Syle’s Dormitory for Ladies a distinctly feminine giggle insulted the rich silence. Three figures sauntered into the radiance. Two of them were swagger- ingly male, but the center one, which was slight, short and female, was topped by a red tam-o’-shanter from under which many light sounds like thrush notes and parrot calls rippled, squawked, annoyed. “Regular candy pig!” she trilled; and her hand was seen to snatch, catlike, at a confectionery box which her right-side escort held. ‘‘Old sugar gobbler!” “Haw, Floss!’’ bawled a large booby, whom Chester, disgustedly huddled among the foliage, recognized as an athlete of no account. ‘‘ Wait till I send you a real box from San Francisco.” “It would nev-er, nev-er be the same,”’ she was drawling in her baby voice. Birdlike she perked her small head from side to side, and under the artificial light her eyes sparkled like mischievous jewels. **Nev-er, nev-er the same. Would it, Spig?” He whom she addressed as Spig proved to be one Ramon de Silva, a Californian of Spanish ancestry, who idled and frivoled with the Gamma Gammas and sometimes wrote athletic notes for the papers. Undergraduate usage had tagged him The Spiggoty. The Spiggoty seemed far less cheerful than the candy pig, for as the group swung closer to Chester’s leafy ambush the Spaniard’s somber eyes with the lampblack fringes and single line of hairy brow re- vealed themselves as melancholy in the extreme. **Would it ev-er be the same?” she persisted, turning her red tam toward The Spiggoty’s total eclipse. “‘Candy’s never quite the same after you've eaten it.” “T believe he’s mad at me,”’ chirped she whom they called Floss. By now the three were passing so close that Chester was obliged to step into the damp weeds to permit their transit. He could not disregard the pompon on her red tam-o’- shanter, that trifle being level with his nose. “Oh!” Red Tam-o’-Shanter had caught a glimpse of his pallid face among the leaves. ‘‘Did you see what I saw? Somebody’s looking at the Iron Men. I hope he doesn’t steal anything. If he should walk away with poor old Gazabo fg The rest was drowned in booby roars of admiration. Chester’s last impression was of clacking French heels that seemed to dance as they went. She was a dancing creature, this interloper. “Rats!” growled fame’s acolyte, and took a round- about lane toward Faculty Row. Chester A. Framm, dreaming of the gods, had stumbled into a comedy of insect life. It was seven-thirty when he reached the bleak gentil- ity of Faculty Row and called for Miss Carlotta Beam. Hewasa little early, it turned out, and Professor eam as he came out of the dining room was chewing. For the first time it was manifest that the faculty, like mortals, eat food. The professor offered a ceremo- nious hand and with the (Continued on Page 85)

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IFI’S Sara. it. I name was, I think, Not that I ever heard suppose the bi hop must have, when he baptized her. She wore her father’s stening robe, grandmother’s wedding veil made into a chri on that occasion, and when the bishop parents if they, therefore, renounced in her name the flesh and the devil, Fifi gave a clear, distinct which rang out through the Gothie arches. One of her godmothers, her Aunt Popsy her real name is, never hears it shocked and blushed violently at this, everybody joked her mercilessly about it said no wonder the child had laughed; wonder was, they said, that she had blushed! Fifi’s family was very } and very fashionable chuckle I forget what looked Ve ry but and too, one ne only well known, very ri You will readily clude, having doubtless read a great many els and seen a great many plays, that they were stupid and cold-hearted. I cannot blame you for this conclusion, which does you credit, in a way, but I must stop you before you go any further and tell you that you are quit« The Amorys were distinctly clever, as a family, and far from cold- hearted. Quite the contrary, in fact, il contemporary in error. records are to be trusted. Stuyvesant Amory, her father, said so many witty things that people never left the club until he did, for fear of nissing one—and perhaps, a little, so as to be sure that the next clever ti y wouldn’t be them Louise Schuyler ¢ —_ about rownlander, hi ‘ ter, would make the dullest dinner party bearable, and his married daugh- ter Patsy not only made the most audaciously laughable remarks imag inable, but was wonderfully pretty and utterly well-dressed into the bargain. It is too bac to have to shatter all the illusions of the real certainly ought to have the monopoly of brains and cl to them by the of the nicest, met were quite wealthy. That was the real would have been easier to m much competition. Her brother Stuy was the best dancer in New Y older sister Patsy the wittiest young matron; her younge: sister Pips was considered by 1 many people the most beau- tiful girl—-though that was really mostly hair, some other people thought. Fifi had only her undoubted gift for am- ateur dramatics, and they rather, for some time now. In any other family she would have handsome, but the Amorys too much for her, and in self-defense she herself a little odd. She bobbed her dark hair, whi ( irl, | ly poor peo] “4 who arms so obligingly har but it ist magazines, jolliest, most entertaining Fifi—her anage if rk; her have been “out,” been a noticeably clever girl, were made h didn’t and wore unusual frocks all in one piece with no waistline, and long, dangly chains. She read strange novels and stranger poetry, and had her room done in purple tapestry with ebony furni- ture. She walked in the park, very early, with a Russian wolfhound, and had an a once of learning to play the harp, but found it too hard on the hands. Once she almost a sensation by insisting that she had be and this really bothered her mother for created come a Mohammedan, but the bishop said not to mind at all, tha there were many worthy Mol e in partic a great friend of his, who rey Oriental rugs. He would for Fifi t« i then, as the bishop a few days, , ammedans ilar, aired » meet him, ane arrange i pointed out, she needn’t be confined to books her re- ous researches. After that, of course, there wa no good ng on with it had actually, the year before she wa clever littl ums. They were done for a and her friends insisted on their being Patsy married, ritten some Halloween party lished. Stuy bluff at playir ¥ yme picture wire Laurie to his own Pips, at fifteen, V for modeling and made a table- exhibited “‘merely as a study.” school infirmary after the measles So that Fifi scorned the Arts, and read, and walked with the wolfhound, and wore crisser sandals like i Miss Austen’s bool instrument and make a fora bet, strun ing pan and sang Annie coul Ip something on it. He once, up any across a fry accompa! mer 1 what was apparently a gift yuntain that her teacher (She took it up in the devel ] Dp ( mebody asked her god- the world, ILLUSTRATED BY CHARLES D. MITCHELI “Of Course, Being a Woman, You Couldn't Understand,’ Was One of His Most Characteristic Sentences She did write some poems, but they were discovers d, on the eve of publication, she always insisted, and violently suppressed. Even the bishop was staggered by the poems. He suggested that as he had baptized her and confirmed her he would appreciate the privilege of marrying her, and hinted that it had better be as he was growing old and many more poems like that would certainly more than he could stand. Sut here again Fifi just missed things. Between Pat who gobbled all the young men—she liked her own hu band so much, her father said, that she had a sort of claim on everybody else’s—and Pips, whom older men adored to the point of extravagance one of those young girls whose mothers are begged by every man to keep her for his son, if he can’t have her—Fifi more or less faded out. She was neither as daring as Patsy nor as magnetic a: Pips, and her cleverness began to turn a little sharp, which frightened the men terribly. At twenty-two she looked three years older. Then the inevitable happened. Having had every opp tunity to meet the most eligible young men in the cour try—and many of other countries—what does Miss Fif fall in love with a man twenty years older thar herself, ikem nobody had ever heard of. This might } been put up with, but, unfortunately, the man had a per fec tly own; a wif I intention of losing him to an “‘unprin the fast set,’’ as she called Fifi It was all very messy complicated, and poor Mr Amory had a bad six months of it. Patsy had skated more than once on very thin ic n them ¢ amount of anxiety, but under standable, more normal, so to say soon, prove she was do but ave good wife of h ®, moreover, who |} i = iple d socie ty gir and e and Stuy had give their vagari more A short-haired martyr, werTe languishing in a purple bedroom, insisting that she must have a middle-aged professor of English literature from some fresh-water college, was a little too much for the Amory - they had no system to oppose to the conditi By Josephine Daskam Bacon ° really eight tuy tl her schooln oon outgrew Avenue wit! efficiently did the your amused their families very Madison their collect Only Fifir maelstrom 1 litt skinned li it either. The war hadn’t in the pz t] ugh ipremely that the a t ald, t A rer "' VM a matte { te gv ) dra ‘Dor ‘e Amory ey Now we }t through a v sand coffee, liste tented wom of destru attached to his wife ummage sy became the first secret lashed back ie fir Amory reorganization of the tes started a « sessinahendie vutside I don't Onl ! er e sald in her dollars The professor, however, saw rea ,and never meant to let things yo as far as they did. He was and children, and had been and a social type all over before it had and Mrs. Amory took onvenience to her body proceeded to forget it ’ but Fifi. She had very much while it lasted, as it st time in her life since her n the family, wh dazzled by a personality vn to Bim It wa id painful, road, at great in arrival n for a few weeks she had naged to hold the ¢ r of the stage, that upied everybody's attention very fond of the they had spent at tea where there was no proba- them had been interesting hours of her life ed to think how his horrid, stupid understood him— which wasn’t en- and how immensely happy made him—which is pos- I think, certain. So that the though it accomplished ‘ente he had o« She had been really pro- fessor, and the in odd place 3 bility of hours time anyone's meeting quite the most t She lo wile mi tirely accurate; she could have but not, sible, ropean summer, its purpose, practically speaking, left her dreamy and superior. Events, as she wrote her diary, didn’t interest her; too much was going on in her heart. The summer of 1914, which sent them cuttling home in a steamer packed like a ardine box, meant to Fifi only the disgust- ingly crowded decks and the difficulty of getting American money quickly. The Amorys, like most of the rich and fashion- New York, got into the war tofthecountry. Strangely ead of exercising their Pekinese ting new tango steps, they experi- with war breads, encouraged the English men-servants to go home and enlist ves with pageants and tableaux recitals to send the that flowed to pe yple of iore there mented sied themsel ales and sor 4 tream of American dollars ) relief Amer ary for the ican ind for French Wounded and worked all day at it; r before the Lusi hunare comfort tania was sunk she had sent her “dth bale of clothes and bandages and wickedly dangerous Atlantic. into Squadron A and was one of t the new aviation units. Mrs hes of the great practical Red Cross Pips and three of igarette and chocolate fund that their homes and ended in a vacant shop on a paid secretary and an auditor; so ig ladies manage an experiment which h till the published totals of began torouse atter tion in the daily papers , unswept intothe great r self-centered, thin- ‘ondemn her for And the ig hound She across tne t workers a vas k in the me mut admire attitude, only you m girl simply hadn’ with the t French yme! new craze for unif nd pointed it out to her friends verse rming themselves so clearly them he was going, for the few females left who 1 at the club d that we een init. Stu and loan¢ r temper detache Knitting in , her father turned 1e to the day when fill ing wear to bring ten thou rkers’ dinner that wa ir gone edye o Mrs. Amory after the 1 to a chance remark of a clever, discon from her own malad

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6 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST * All this is very well,”’ said the woman, who was divided het ween isfaction at actually dining with the Stuy Amorys and dissatisfaction because she knew full well why she had been invited ‘All this is very well, but your precious ‘Sammie’ is being stuffed with chocolate and fags and musical records ind mufflers, while his poor wife is doing his work. It’s ist like women to pet the men and neglect their wives and Idren, isn’t it?” “That's a wonderful idea,’””’ Mrs. Amory cried enthu- astically, ‘‘and you're just the woman to remedy that, my dear! Why don’t you take it up?” Everybody applauded, and the woman found herself she left the table As Fifi had agreed vith her first remark, and was notoriously disengaged, 1 chairman before he accepted with amused condescension a place on the Executive Committee, and Mr. Amory’s airy g restion of “‘The Little Sisters of Uncle Sam” was adopted unanimously Well, there you have it: On Tuesday, an idea; on Wednesday, a committee; on Thursday, a head stamped letter paper. ‘The juarter on Friday, Little Sisters’’ was booming in a fortnight ‘You must take the Publicity, Miss Amory; you're aid the chairman, and Fifi, ig slightly, deprecating, but really very much ir only literary light,” blushir ised, consented Chey had their pictures taken, in the picturesque ipes with terra-cotta lining evolved by New York’ neipal sporting tailor for the occasions of their ammie’s relatives— Fifi quite forgot her feeling in the matter of superfluous uniforms! ind they were interviewed by the Sunday Times and After that, really novel publicity iterly visits tos the Saturday Sun roved difficult People must take this more seriously,”’ the chair If they only knew what practical, vi man mused tal work we were doing. We must get it across to them somehow. What can we do, Miss Amory? Think of something, you're so clever!” “Why not,” said Fifi sardonically, for the Little Sisters were beginning to bore her—‘“‘why not get it into the movies? That will put it across—like the other war pictures.’ To her surprise they caught at the suggestion wildly ‘Wonderful!” they cried. “‘My dear, you are simply too wonderful! Who shall we have do it?” And then in the next breath ‘Why, you, of course, Mi do it, won't you?” “Me”? But I never wrote a And all your dramatics! Why, you're practically a professional, everybody says! You're just the one! You'll Amory! You write. You'll know just how to make it effective and . . . and plenty of go, you know ‘Il might try,” said Fifi slowly. ‘You could show the idier going away, and the house running down, and the mother sick and everything; and then the girls could show the home nursing and the first aid and the recreation there’s our junior camp, you know—and all the other tunts “Oh, my dear! How perfectly wonderful!” they cried “What will it cost, do you think?” he war had caught Fifi at last. The next day but one she found herself sitting opposite a keen, polite gentleman at the Little Sisters’ headquarters, explaining some what nervously her idea of a moving picture. She talked a great deal and very fast “Of course I don't know anything about this,’’ she con- cluded breathlessly . ‘but I've written out a little plot of of — a sort of scenario, isn’t it?” ‘Give it here,” said the dark gentleman abruptly. “Got the ‘script here? I s’pose you want about two thousand feet? First twenty minutes to get the thing across Regular rule. All worked out. Gets em warmed up. I spose you can put your hand You gotta have two thousand feet on the cast for this’ “Oh!” Fifi gasped, for he appeared to be reading her manuscript with one hand and talking to her with the ther, so to speak “Oh! There isn’t any cast really, you see—just the Little Sisters themselves.” ‘Your sisters? I see. Young ladies in the League amatures., All the better. Can't act, but the public likes it Good title, ve ry good! We'll get you the soldier and Not practical, staging indoor outa the studio. Not enough voltage. Can be done, of course — we can run wires anywhere Studio scenes at a hundred a family up at the studio stuff, as a rule but costs like thunder in the end day A hundred?” Fifi queried confusedly. “Dollars. Five hundred a reel, outside. Four hundred, really, but allow one studio day to each. A thousand for the two cover everything. Transportation mostly. Ma- chine very delicate. Fine effects here for the children in camp, l see.” Fifi perceived that the marvelous man had really read the manuscript and seen what she had intended to convey. “er Then you think you could do something with it— make it over, | mean?” she asked humbly. “Very good ‘script, indeed,” he answered briskly, “practically no suggestions, myself. Good captions, too may have to add to ’em a little, here and there. Average house perfect fools, you know. Minds travel slow.” **You mean it will do as it is?” *’Course it'll do. Very good ’script. Much better’n I expected,’ he snapped. ““My goodness gracious!” ‘ she breathed, and rushed into ae the committee room to re- port. In five minutes she had Pifi Bobbed Her Dark Hair, Which Didn't Curt, and Wore Unusual Frocks All in One Piece With No Waistline, and Long, Dangly Chains raised the money required; two of the finance committee agreed to underwrite the film. Now I may have given you a lower idea of Fifi’s powers than is quite just to the child; she had done the Little Sisters’ film very cleverly. She had a really dramatic mind, you see, and instead of presenting a series of pictures of the activities of her particular organization, she had selected one little girl in a poor soldier’s family to be the object of all the direct and indirect advantages flowing from the Little Sisters of Uncle Sam. This made a more or less connected narrative and centered the interest in the child in ques- tion, whom she hoped to pick from the vacation camp sup- ported by the Little Sisters, where happy relays of two weeks’ guests swam and drilled and cooked and slept in the open. Fifi had instinctively realized that this camp, though only one of their activities, would make the best showing on the screen, and had laid many of her scenes there, building up the pictures from the prospectus of the Committee on Activities and the glowing reports of the camp directress, an experienced social worker. “I s’pose there’s no doubt the kids can do all these stunts?” suggested Mr. Ficken on the occasion of his second visit to headquarters, to arrange for his sleeping and eating accommodations during the camp days ahead of them “Oh, I don’t believe so,”’ Fifi answered vaguely; ‘‘that’s what they’re there for, isn’t it?” “All right up to you,” he said briefly. ‘Take us five days. Only three really, but allow for bad weather. My assistant and a camera man. And a chauffeur. Your camp-lady says tea house’ll do for us, three miles from her outfit. You going up by train?” “| suppose so,”’ she answered vaguely, wondering if her father would let her have the small car for that length of time, and perhaps the second chauffeur, who was rather stupid and liable to be drafted any day into the bargain. “We can take you up,” he added suddenly; “‘stick you in, I dare say. If you don’t mind cameras. Car’s a seven passenger.”’ So that Miss Fifi Amory found herself battened down on the back seat of a dingy but powerful car, under a pile of blankets and tripods, between Mr. Ficken and his photog- rapher, a mild, shortsighted little man with a pointed beard and an apologetic manner. Beside the chauffeur, a headstrong New York cockney in a flannel shirt, sat the assistant, a taciturn young man with a scornful expression March 15,1919 and a tendency to disagree with everybody as to their exact whereabouts at any given time, the likelihood of their arriving at the camp at all and the possibility of get- ting any pictures that week, as he had read in the only paper he ever perused, a Western publication, that the next seven days would be cloudy. Fifi thought them all immensely amusing; that they thought of her at all is extremely doubtful. For, you see, they had no idea who she was. Mr. Ficken had been summoned to their first interview by a pompous lady with a rope of pearls too big not to be real. The other ladies in the office called each other by their first names, but they called her Miss Amory. He saw aslender, odd-looking girl with bobbed hair, a queer-looking velvet frock and a jet chain down to her knees. Her shoes were different from other people’s; an excited spot of car- mine on each cheek bone he mistook for rouge; her cold- ness when addressed by the lady with the pearls he took for shyness. He placed her somewhere between a news- paper woman and an actress and gave the matter no fur- ther thought; the little scenario was a pleasant surprise for him. He usually had to write them over. Mrs. Amory had no idea that Fifi was to be the only woman of the party. She knew that the directress of the camp was a perfectly capable matron and that Fifi would be in her tent during her stay. There were only girls and young women there, and men were all she feared in her daughter’s case, ever since the episode of the professor of English. Naturally, she didn’t count the picture-taking persons as men at all. She gave her daughter blankets and bed boots and a trench mirror she had bought at a bazaar for a soldier, and told her maid to see that Miss Fifi’s maid put in a pair of high boots and plenty of woolen sport stockings. Then she went back to the Red Cross. If she had seen her daughter eating lunch at a Yonkers tea house with a taciturn young man who smoked ciga- rettes steadily through the meal, she might have been considerably more disturbed than she was that day. “‘T guess you and the young lady better grab a table, Loot, and the boss and I'll eat out here and keep an eye ‘4 on the car. Henry has to chase out for some distilled water—or so he says,”’ the little photographer remarked, and the young man answered indifferently: “Allright. Anything suits me.” “This is great fun, isn’t it, Mr. Loote,” Fifi gurgled, stuffing tea-house chicken pie with gusto. ““Anything’s fun, if you think so, I suppose,” he an- swered absently, pulling out an old envelope and jotting down figures on it while he ate. She flushed a little, but decided to take it humorously. ““What do you think is fun?” she said good-naturedly “Oh, well,” he replied vaguely, and drank a great cup of coffee in two gulps, his eye on his figures. She bit her lip and ate in silence, which evidently im- pressed him as little as her speech. He was no more a ladies’ man than his boss. Once at the camp events moved fast. A lot of excitable little girls of uneven sizes and dispositions were lined up before Fifi and Director Ficken, from which wriggling mass they were to select a heroine for their melodrama. “I'll pick "em out for screen types, and you find out if they’re good for the stunts,” he said hastily. ‘‘Get all this camp stuff out of the way first, then take ’em to the village for street scenes. How about your young society-girl stuff? Forgot to bring one, didn’t we? Wasn't she to come in the village part?” He looked annoyed. An able man, considering all things in their proper place and order, he had been neglectful. “Oh, I'll do that,” said Fifi easily; ‘‘she doesn’t come in much, you know.” He scratched his head thoughtfully. “‘Um, yes, I guess we'll have to let it go at that,’’ he agreed. ‘‘Too bad we didn’t think of it, though. You couldn’t have got one of the regular members—a real Astorbilt or something? We must try to for the studio scenes. Make a note of it, both of us. Public likes it.” Fifi was honestly puzzled. Why wouldn’t she do? She had been one of the principal features of the Débutantes’ League film and much in demand for it. Did he think her too old, perhaps, or not enough of a novelty? She decided that he feared she couldn’t act and manage at the same time. “That tall girl with the big blue eyes would be awfully good, I think,”’ she suggested, but he shook a decided head. “‘Looks sixteen. Nineteen in the picture. No point in it—might be an actress. Want to be convincing. How about the dark, wavy-haired one, three from the end? Always laughing. Fine eyes.” “And that clever-looking short one just behind—she’s very graceful.” They collected five promising young ladies and reported to the directress, but Mrs. Compton shook her neat- braided head with fatal displeasure. “Oh, dear me, Miss Amory, that will never do. You -an’t pick out the pretty ones like that very well. They’re jealous enough already. Two girls left last night because I told them they couldn't be in the drill scenes.” — ——

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST “But we must have them good-looking, Mrs. Compton; they’re to be the principal ones!” “* All the more reason for picking them out for some good reason,”’ said Mrs. Compton firmly. ‘‘ Now all those girls you have selected would be the very worst ones possible. morn Helen Priestley gets a bad mark for her tent every night, laughing and talking. Alma is self-conscious and affected enough ithout having her head turned by this sort of thing.” Fifi gazed at her in dumb despair. Her plump and placid bulk, her sweet reasona f matronly readiness for every juve nile emergen Vor d the reach of argument. “Who asked meekly. “Well,” said Mrs. Compton judicially, ‘‘there is a fine girl here who’s made a lot of I'm much inter- ested in her, Miss Amory, and I’m sure that all the young ladies who have done so much to make oa iI] Beatrice is regularly late for reveille each blene > have then?” the impresario which ones can we progress. the camp possible too. will be She swims well and does excellent First Aid and really understands camp cool That sandy-haired girl, the second from the right on the third Sadie Rautenkind. She’s not pretty, of course, but she has a >, SE rious face, whe n you ag “Tl ask Mr. Ficken,” Fif glance at Sadie. Mr. Ficken threw up his hands and yelped nervously. “Good God!” he cried. ‘*‘What’s the y? What'd we come up here for? To make ire or give rewards of merit? That’s not up to us, g over! How She'd screen row fine matter with the oman anyv a pict somethnir there? r we're here to get Dack tell her; tell he about that fat little blond one in first-rate.”” Fifi inquired and came back sadly. ‘No? What's her trouble?” he queried sour! “She only came last night got the real camp yet.’ got atmos- enough for me,” e answered obstinately r i}. + “Tell her to can that ay ; Sadie stuff Start "em on some games ind marching, to begin We'll never get vhere this way.” Fifi was to remember ose four days in camp atmos- hasn’t phere of the one ‘She’s pnere how any any- is the strangest of her lie From half past six, vVnen the uncertain notes of Sadie Rauter nd’s somewhat ama teurish reveille waked her to a sketchy toilet in an agate basin, anda variable cup of coffee ir mess tent, to nine at the last giggling infant had beer suppressed by Compton’s awful Lhe yht, when sterniy Mrs Visit In a over her nightgown, Fit and hustled protesting little from drill ground to lakeside, from the manufacture of flap- jacks to the splints and f theatrical mackintos! bustled those girls ar rang the perpetual In one matron’s piaint: “This is going to be very bad for these girl Miss Amory. All my discipline is being steadily undone!” In the other, Mr. Ficker grumbled in a nerve-racked Lenor: ‘**Look here! Tell her thi is a motion-picture act, will you? Nota Y. W. C. A.! We gotta get some pep into thie!” And poor plain pacifically to him: ‘I know, but you see after all, that’s what the children are here for really and she’s so good to them! While to the ucator of youth Fifi would ex- raged e she out would inks of is the murmur deprecatingly: ‘‘ You see, all he tl effect—and after all, that’s what we’re here for, isn’t Both of them found her decidedly weak and inefficient. “The only one that gets a thing out of these kids is me,” said Mr. Loote. llas Hunt Kansas or Bill. “Because you stuff them with those dreadful, stic] Fifi answered severely. ‘‘I do wish, Mr. Lox you wouldn’t doit. Mrs. Compton is furious about it. you'd only give them to the good ones, she says.” **I wouldn't spend much in that case,’’ he me, that lady. She He answered to that name as we lollipops,”’ vouchsafed. “She earns her money, if you ask surely does!”’ Fifi could not make him out. He was like no one she had Far less clever than Mr. Ficken, he was, He knew less about little assistant, ever seen before. in his odd way, more of a gentleman. the motion-picture technic than the shy who nevertheless treated him with marked respect. A solitary young man, he ate mostly alone or took a sand wich with the chauffeur, with whom he held interminable arguments as to the conduct and condition of the big, dusty car. “Oh, all right, gen’ral, all right,’ you § the chauffeur would y, of course!”’ d abruptly on id baked beans o1 reply disgustedly; ‘‘any way “Why does he call you general?’ the third day as they sat bank of the lake, out of sight ar eating c d sound of the children, who were recovering their various tempers after a trying morning of touching picnic poses In Any Other Family She Would Have Been a Noticeably Handsome, But the Amorys Were Too Much for Her, and in Self-Defense She Made Herseifa Little Odd Clever Girt, Same rea answered, I'n or mi) aid. ‘‘ What Hunt? I sup; “Yes’m. H yu ed The d get indoors 1 ke lI ‘Gassed? Y« ‘No. ma’ ill Mhe and some of u lo get bad, t spring, and I’: and then t! “W h al al 0 } when one knew “Oh, well,” | and fell to figur That mor hower blew up immoned f ' mp a) \ lor tne re pours r ime tre I bored, blue and al t once bana and I t idlir posing, the cou nervous hecklir ( is of the fac ill e | i heute he Art ess! It ‘ ) i here [he Ka i i ther! k in I Hu eplied sid | t keep out fect sir fe Y ’ jy I ul Of VW Inde of } 1 ‘ er Lad don't Wi le t ed | f yra ! prof } } H , ‘ ¢ +} | (; | ‘ ‘ ! hie > Continued on Page 60 ] Fra i hat i» fe + {T; f he ex! ul } { } » th Ippose ee] 1 ] ; ! e?! He nd ¢ { kine eemed ‘ hat he had é | ! racte gag ‘ ! ever! id ¢ nad been a vray one ind d spoiled alter I ( e damp a 1} esting cl ! fered ppe he big i { he dow i i { nt H ! condit { ! ( uddenly hopeless. tt toad ré e] é t I en the ! ire? ‘ { | tle lectures fro M ( of Dire Ficker I ! +} ‘ elleve t ) r fevered r ms asto lil ind rese their plain incredulit gnoral I these things estle | uld stop asking me } ed } ¢ t it ’ ’ tr | yu Tir like Ma in é ” he l allowed hir All g i} }

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8 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Raising Money by the people ha e learned ‘ Mw r I tor e money from each other on a scale so staggering I e rea t ypped t think about the size of the job e should sit down and weep in discouragement. Selling erty Bonds to one another and persuading each other e up painie ly for the Red Cross, the Y and count yood works has almost supplanted baseball as he vreat American nat na port A year or two before he war people gaped in open-mouthed wonder at the illed whirlwind campaig! which three or four were ‘occasionally obtained for some good e. N i single church denomination sets out to col ‘ eg! ! ion a i for it missionary endeavors, i the announcement in the papers doe not cause the fan eyelasl If anyon ipposed that the peculiar methods em } ed d r e war to raise mone topped automat- ill when the armistice a gned he is doomed to a delightful disap] ntmetr | i delightful because the ist bod f KI vledge . edu tne ia t le v. years on the hbject of how to separate other people from their money for good es wast | when the fighting ceased. It is eing applied at this moment to all manner of laudable pu es, and the po bilities in the Way of getting mone both for philanthrophy and business, are almost fizzying int! exter ‘Why, we haven't seratched the surface yet,” said a t-known professional money ubject the other man who is perhaps the be n the country, in discussing the He has been connected with drives and campaigns yi h have raised five hundred million dollars for charity, | he says he is just beginning [he real test,’’ he went ! is that practically no one has yet given enough really to hurt. Ask yourself whom you know that has injured him ell g ng. There are only a few here and there who have even approached the limit \ few rich men exceeded their uc Chertt y—By Albert W. Atwood practically all of the so-called middle classes, financially peaking eve rybody who would not be considered actu- ally rich or well off. Our policy as a people was to let George do it—meaning by George an insignificant fraction of us ‘I am ashamed of myself when I think how little I used to give away,” said the manager of one of the largest money-raising campaigns in the last few years, ‘“‘and I believe the American people as a whole feel the same way Do not suppose for a moment that this new attitude of generosity on the part of the American people will be allowed to remain neglected and uncultivated just because there is a Peace Conference at Versailles. Plans without end are now being hatched to raise vast sums for churches, educational institutions, hospitals and all manner of charitable, relief, welfare, municipal and social objects The intensive, coéperative, organized methods which gath- ered in the money during the war can be applied with some modifications to all manner of objects of public interest. If a town needs money for a new hotel much the same machinery and organization that put it over the top for the Liberty Loan and Red Cross, with slight change in argu- ments, will do the trick for the much-desired hotel. Even private business run for a profit may learn some exceed- ingly valuable lessons in advertising and salesmanship from these recent gigantic money-raising activities. Per- haps as much has been learned about publicity campaigns since 1917 as in all the years of business enterprise that went before, or even more. Already two of the largest of the universities are getting ready to launch drives for funds upon the scale and man- ner of the war drives. Far larger and more significant enterprises, however, are looming up. A national group ing together of the federations of charities in sixteen of the largest cities, another grouping toge ther of the more than March 15,1919 Billion for three hundred war chests, and a union of all the churches to raise funds to ex- tend their work these are some of the possibilities that may make perma- nent the important gains of the war and substitute codperation for competition among causes that should not be thrown into conflict That steadily increasing sums will be gathered in seems impossible but it is almost certainly true. The successful money-raising campaign has always been an accomplish- ment of the so-called impossible. “‘It is too big an under- taking,’’ people always said. ‘‘Times are bad and we cannot possibly win out.’’ So it was with the First, Second, Third, Fourth, and so it will be with the Fifth Liberty Loan. So it has always been with the Y and Red Cross drives. As methods and organizations are perfected an ever- widening circle of givers or subscribers is reached and the impossible becomes the commonplace with a steady breaking of records Reaping in Whirlwinds N ONE of the largest cities in the South the first really large-scale drive for money was greeted with dismal pre- dictions of failure. “‘This city was ruined by the Civil War; you can’t get any money here,” the campaign man- agers were told. But they got the money, and then the same crowd of business men that had volunteered for the work, realizing for the first time the possibilities of their city, conducted drive after drive, raising money for many different purposes. The remarkable, the truly significant point is that one successful drive seems to make the next one easier. Not only does each successive organization have the benefit of the experience, methods and technic of all previous cam- paigns, but the people of the community or country are aroused, stirred, stimulated, educated and united. They are taught to give They learn the ad- t into their capital, but most of the will make it up tt eur ' 7 yave awa more that } income, but he told me that he expected to make five million dol lars thi year, and that would more than make up for his 1918 gift 4 ‘But even if it doesn’t quite make up the deficit, what of it? Mr isa very ger erous man but we all know that even if he pouvie ies has given away more 2 \ than his income he will not be in want. Very thew people give a much as would be yood for them.” Tidy Sums gee pla millions A of us anyway, are wtonished at how lit tle we formerly gave \ tidy little sum, vari isly estimated a three to five hundred nillion dollars, wa yiven away each year It may look small in com before the war parison with what was ruised during the war but the smallest thing out it Was not so much the amount a the fewness of the con tributors Formerly only a few people gave money in sums that amounted to anything We left it to the ric and well-to-do By ‘we’ I mean not only the wage earners but a e U.S. DE-LOUSING |) STATION |) vantages of giving. Marvelous progress in civic matters often follows a big money- raising campaign. One city had two hospital, two general church and a local university campaign in quite rapid succession. It was the first drive that made the others pos- sible. It was the im- pulse, the new spirit of the first effort, that carried all the others through. Moreover, the very size, the apparent dif- ficulty or even impos- sibility of raising a given sum of money, appeals to the fighting blood, the sporting in- stinct it really is, of the biggest men in the country. “This amount must be one hundred million dollars or it is not worth our time at all,” said Henry P. Davison when he called his as- sociates about him to organize for the first relief campaign in his- tory that ever under- took to raise such a sum. The war developed almost beyond recog- nition two great exist- ing ideas or methods of money raising —the charity federation and the whirlwind cam- : paign. And it evolved S| largely from these two (Continued on Page 65)

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tlt, ) Ql lesmeau Somehow, as Tom McGuire Sat There Taiking to Her About the Winter Garden Show, I Began to Feet Curiously Upset OW that the war is over—at least by inference—it is certainly to be hoped that people’s minds will take a turn in some more vital and important direction; par erample, obtaining permission to go abroad and to bring back things. I mean not only } 4 though le bon Dieu knows no decent silk socks or handker- chiefs have been procurable here in an age When I think of the present depleted condition shop, owing to the enormous influx of new contr v roper clot! but antiques! of my 1oisseurs, whom the munition plants have coined and who have posi tively swept us clean, and then dwell upon the enormous number of antiques, objets d'art, and so forth, which must now be available in France and Belgium at most satisfac- torily low prices; and of the things which were at the begin- ning of the war new, have been in point of fact antiqued by the German Army—I confess | become For why should such dull things as army supplies machinery and soldiers, in which any reé vital interest, those gorgeous new ships of ours, is positively they occupy ? In point of fact were it not for a or comparatively so, but which positively cross with our Government. and have now, of course, we lost al be given the preferment on when the antique business going to rack and ruin for lack of the space of under- self and a perfect brute months ago, and ertain lac standing which arose between my of a man on our local draft boa inherent dislike of renewing hips with officials of such low intellectual caliber, I would the Government at Washington ré some my any unpleasant relation- myself communicate with and see if something could not be done about at once open- ing up this important branch of American industry. But my position being rather a peculiar one owing to my having n positive knowledge of my delicate physique against the bull-headed judgment of that nasty government doctor, and consequently being obliged sisted upon acting on my own to remain in seclusion for a considerable period in order to preserve myself for the continuance of my art work, I feel a sort of hesitancy about bringing myself into public agitation at this time. Later, peace is definitely established, we shall see what wes ! Art isthe bacl bone of any country, and art dealers cannot indefinitely be kept from the pursuance of the industry —or dear knows what will become of America! Then such shocking and nerve-racking incidents as that of the Benjamin West portrait can be avoided—indeed must be avoided! Ca va sans dire! In point of fact I for one should suffer a complete nervous breakdown should such an occurrence be repeated. Once we can get to France and Belgium and even to those parts of London where the air raids occurred most frequently, the possibility of such calamities will be practically nil. For the moment all I can do is to make a record of the West incident in order that at ar when see ILLUSTRATED BY MAY WILSOWN the proper moment, when all questions concerning the draft have been quite, quite forgotten, I can allow the matter to become public; and the record will have been made while it is fresh in my mind It is unfortunately true that the pressure of circum- stances beyond one’s control often leads one into actions that are not really nice. In point of fact one may be pressed by them into doing things that are, to say the least of it, difficult to explain when discovered; and the West picture was one of those. Not that we lied about it, rous savez, but I admit the inference was there. Indeed infer- ence is one of the most essential qualities that a man in my profession has to acquire; and it was the power of inferring the genuineness of a thing which made Tom McGuire so inestimably valuable to me; indeed made him the most valuable salesman—or curator, as we call them—that the Kentt Galleries ever had. This quality of his was doubt- less due in part to his Celtic ancestry, though it had prob- ably been developed by the work he did as a salesman for his father’s patent-medicine factory in Oleo, Illinois, before he came to me. But ¢a ne fait rien! He had the gift and had it strongly. I met him in a curious manner; indeed one usually meet the people one goes on with in a curious manner. I had made an excursion into Bohemia. In point of fact I had gone downtown to a famous French café in the neighborhood of Washington Square—a portion of the Quartier that I occasionally visit by reason of its being so accessible by the Fifth Avenue bus, which runs there directly from my door. I had Mr Cartiea, as she was then called, a charming young widow to whom I was just about to sella tiny Blakelock. At least, we had almost agreed it was a Blakelock, and I felt confi- dent that after a good dinner she would be entirely of my mind about it. Mrs. Cartiea was a curiously independent woman, even then, but, I confess, utterly charming to me, though she spoke but little and had a curiously aloof manner ! Well, at any rate, we were at the end of our meal and Mrs. Cartiea had decided to buy, and ordered a liqueur while I made out an informal memorandum of the She did not take the liqueur, but she did sign the agreement, when to my surprise she asked for a witness to it. This request struck me with amazement, for in point of fact my own conviction about the Blakelock being a Blake- lock was— well, I had bought it of a lodging-house keeper in Seventeenth Street, and | had steeled myself against But, of cour when Mrs. ¢ the bargain legally b does with me a client save tres piquant, vou: so | sale, possible questioning. 1, artiea showed willingness to make By Nina Wilcox Putnam PRESTON Now as a rule thi and from her lit for evel an at capacity with acquaintance though for the most one woul d wish whi to er ut bag, I quaintance frequent the galleries, rm But this night there was no one I knew; However, ' a soul ti ive a Ww part inter elsewhere or young man was seated a table ac I she are ez ros a tk no at ) particular café is small checl once looker act in the filled, the the room a most successful portrait painter, slumming like myself been watching us all evening not directly , but by the mirrored wall; and-I had been noticing him, for of a type that is hard indeed to find He was tall, and if exposed toaro ment charm ' ing! well cut i might |} health which would « As it was, his His clothes were a dream the n at ay if Wa ] 1 t narrow developed in ' t izh out of-d \ strengtl ind a crude re d attr I simply fil absolutely wuld have thought hin he 1 a 2 1 uld have answered the purpose the sort of persor encourage t ror nm wu, ) extreme, yet exceedingly quiet, except for his tie, which Was a du color At ll t once purnt orange—a witl my effects pictured him in my asset woman ¢ at my ust« band w acquaintance Excusing m) Greek god and addresse doing His shi from mie “That depends ning | to Mr a mer could the nort Tf) } of inestimable value to Kentt’ elf to my guest | approaches jlond he modulated voice I explained about the « Carti on a little favor for me 1d a ‘I know it is a bit Mrs. Cartiea is a ne close though ] Ippose to y yul”’ “A customer!”’ he excl I understand! I'm a tra oblige He rose the ome of ‘9 you and accompani way | saw his what ime wondertiul those smiles tl buy anything from a man wi “| was hoping “Tl had heard of this place ev now House, at it didn’t seen home!” some! an) mor e have utterly destroyed | Pr was most artistic, éngag so unusual yet so smart; houldered, elegant and most subtly chosen note I unerring enstinct for getting gallery He would make ar In point of fact not a t such a salesman! And here unit of at least makir ! 1 th I ! Would iwf mind I asked — abl v ; ; he replic j , yell u 1 added in apolog but me und I ar inxious t ) ol thing infan a nstal Ller Of course alesman myself. Glad t me without furcher ado. Or mile for the I mi It 4 le and contuse One wouid th a smile e that! would spea yme!" } aid en in Ole line ind up to bb miar \ aun

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10 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Oleo, Tilinoi Thi exquisite beau! He looked the per- fection of good or rather of ultra good form. And he was a hick! I could scarcely believe it! He had a little drink with us, and then another, and then onfined conversation aimost exclusively to Mrs Cartiea. | will confs that up to this point, though I had recognized her cold quiet beauty, I had regarded her primarily as a customer. But somehow, as Tom McGuire at there talking to her il it the Winter Garden show and moking gold-tipped cigarette n a thin ivory holder, I began to feel curiously upset. In point of fact | began to realize that she was more than a mere customer to me an attitude which | have, in the course of the hateful events that followed, quite recovered from, Dieu remercié! In point of fact when I look back upon that meeting I can cely realize that I actually thought the whole situation irming. Theenakes! Hh bien, that was Tom MeGuire’s ntroduction to me and to Mrs. Cartiea. A week later he is the head irator of my establishment Of course I had a serious talk with him first, and found out many things concerning him. It seems that his father, out in that unspeakable little town, was engaged in the manufacturing of a substance called Oleoil, which had a great vogue among the lower classes, purporting as it did to cure, as I believe the term is, both man and beast. Mr. MeGuire insisted upon my inhaling its odor, and I must confess its strength was stupendous. | positively refused to taste it. Mr. MeGuire, Senior, was making a pretty good thing of it, but had refused to let his son depart from the parental foot tep In point of fact he had sent him on the road with this abominable stuff, supplemented the boy's commissions with a handsome allowance, and had threatened to cut him off without a penny if Tom should diverge one inch from the path set for him. In other words, unless he did exactly as he was told his allowance would be stopped, and the same would hold good if he abandoned Oleoil for any other profes ion “It's rotten, but what could I do?” said Tom in telling it. “I haven't been trained in anything except lying pleasingly to prospective customers; and until I met you I didn’t know what I wanted todo anyhow! I have always omething corking and fine and pic but somehow, though I could feel a wanted something turesque out of life; whole lot, I couldn't express it in any way And the Old Boy would have thrown a royal fit if I'd suggested such a thing. And now you come like painting or writing, you know along and give me fifty a week to stand round and talk up beautiful stuff and sell it to lovely ladic good to be true. So the Old Boy can take back his sample well, it seems too cases and I'll show him | can stand on my own—to say nothing of doing it in New York!” Eh bien, it was not quite the spirit or the language in which to approach the handling of rare paintings and antiques! At least that sort of talk was all right enough between ourselves but I saw at once that he would In point of fact he had been with me only one week after the receipt of an angry and need very little training disowning letter from that bourgeois parent of his when | had practically transformed him. His ele- gance of voice and manner needed .no cor recting, and his beautiful wardrobe seemed inexhaustible But his name! Of course in our profession such a name was impossible After long and careful consideration I offered Lionel LaFarge, which he finally luctance. The Lionel was what he principally objected to, but I accepted with some re think in the end, sans doule, the alliteration won him No one with the most elementary know!l- edge of the arts needs a description of my little place yet its elegant ordered con- fusion is a thing I love to dwell upon. It might cem a mere shop to some people; yet to me and to others of discernment it is—well, what shall I ay —a symbol of the finer things? At first Lionel could not entirely comprehend itsrare objects. One set of candlesticks in ormolu and marble with a pair of Indians shaking hands with Daniel Boone, and the crystals in perfect con- c.tion, particularly offended him, though they were exquisite specimens of the late Victorian period, now so much in vogue. He called them hideous “Late Victorian or early Pullman, I think they are the limit!"’ he exclaimed “There is no such period as early Pullman, mon ami!”’ | replied. ‘ But the colonial market having becn exhausted and it being impossible to obtain anythi:s from abroad we have created a vogue for the Victorian era; the horsehair and the majolica and the worsted work of that time, if presented to a client with the proper air of reverence—if the correct atmosphere of assumed understanding is created —why, at once we have anew field! I assure you I cannot find enough wax flowers under glass to meet the demand! We may even have to secure reproductions!" “‘Well, mushrooms under glass have been more in my line up todate!” the newly christened curator responded cheerfully. ‘‘ And as for the Victorian error, I suppose they couldn't help making it! But I'll get the dope on selling it, never fear! Just give me a week or two to work up the proper line of talk. After three years of Oleoil I ought to be able to sell hair restorer to a Mexican dog!” And he was correct. This was the last of his crudities A calla lily could not have been more delicately graceful, perfumed and intriguing than Lionel. In point of fact only a week later I overheard him displaying a set of crewelwork chair seats in magenta and black to Mrs. Whitely Went- worth “About 1840, don’t you think them?” he was cooing. “And do look at the way the cross-stitches are put in, my dear!” I was truly proud of him. As proud almost as when I found that complete set of Sheraton chairs which Morgen- thawl gave the museum. In a way Lionel was as perfect and as rare; and Wescott, who has been with me for years, was a trifle jealous. Indeed he was rather nasty and refused to divulge the name of his tailor to Lionel when the latter admired a remarkably good-looking small-waisted overcoat he had just acquired. Then came what I may term the breaking into the purchasing end of the game. JI etait bien compris that in the antique business a certain amount of padding to the stock is absolutely necessary. If everything in every dealer's shop or gallery were real the supposition that our ancestors ran enormously productive factories would be necessary. So it is of course occasionally necessary to well not to fake nobody but the lowest branch of the trade would do that—but to secure something—say, a chair, a table, a mirror or an objet de vertu—and with a few deft touches create, as | may express it, a new atmos- phere about it. Sometimes this can be done purely psy- chologically, as with the Victorian stuff. Sometimes a little cabinetwork is necessary. But in the end atmosphere is what one sells—n'est-ce-pas? Of course a first-class gallery like my own never does quite the latter. When in need of reple nishment we occasionally visit one or two well-known districts downtown, where secondhand articles are handled, and make a careful selection It isa perfect alibi, you see, And really Lionel was quite wonderful on his first visit to Smith Brothers’ junk and secondhand furniture place. He made two wonderful discoveries —a quite splendid tool chest in oak, which polished beautifully and looked like and indeed may very likely have been an early Eng- lish piece; and a set of carved corals. Suchatalent! Suchexquisite taste! “Rather Amusing Littie Thing, Ien't 1t?, Not in Blakelock's Best Manner; but Not Bad, Not Bad!"’ March 15,1919 The chest, for which we paid three dollars, brought ninety; and as for the corals—modesty forbids my bragging of what he did with them! But it was magnifique! There was an old painting offered for our consideration at the time, which we rejected, though it was delightfully dirty and vague and might have been almost anything from a Rembrandt down. It was only two dollars and seventy-five cents. Lionel wouldn’t let me buy it. “It’s so damn ugly nobody but a nut would take it from us!” was the verdict to which I agreed. And it was not the last time that I accepted his judgment by any means. For the dear lad began to build up our clientele in the most amazing manner. Things had been a trifle slack owing to the war, for at this time we had not as yet entered it, and, though} munitions connoisseurs had not as yet developed, things began going so well that we were seri- ously talking of taking the old Van Lippe house across the avenue from us, a stately mansion which had been vacant for some months. Of course it would be a serious step, involving as it did a definite transformation from an antique shop to a real gallery where only one or two objects of art could be displayed at a time—where sales would be in terms of many thousands instead of mere hundreds, and where a sale or two a year would mean a fortune and a consequently greater risk. But with Lionel’s genius, I was at length determined to chance it. We made our decision one morning after a particularly good bit of work, and Lionel had gone out to lunch, looking utterly charming and pale. I was cogitating the situation when he returned, flushed and breathless—quite upset, pauvre enfant! **T just met Mrs. Cartiea outside!”’ he said. “And I rushed back to tell you that she’s taken the Van Lippe house!”’ “The devil she has!” I exclaimed. ‘‘Then that cans our little plan forthe moment! It’s absolutely the only decent place vacant on the avenue.” “Well, I suppose we can furnish it for her at least!"’ he said, delicately touching his heated face with a lavender silk handkerchief. “Did she say so?” I asked, brightening. ‘‘She has never bought anything here except that sup- posed Blakelock!”’ “‘No, she didn’t say so, buf she asked me to come in soon and see the place,”’ he answered. **She said she thought we'd be interested in what she was going to do with it.” “‘Sounds promising!’’ Lremarked. ‘‘I had been just a trifle uneasy about that little picture.” “And she’s such a charming woman!” we remarked simultaneously. “‘Well, we'll be interested sans doute!’’ re- marked Lionel. And we were. We watched that house faithfully from afar, and the first thing that met our incredulous observation was the appearance of a name on the cornerstone. Two workmen came one day and spent the afternoon at it. When they left, the words Cartiea, Inc. in bronze were imbedded in the granite. Cartiea, Inc.! Figurez vous our amazement! And even as we watched, all unnerved, from behind the screen of our own window display, there appeared in the lowest and largest window of the Van Lippe house black velvet hangings, against which presently was placed a single small painting heavily framed in gold. Nothing else. A truly beautiful arrangement in the most con- servative and exclusive manner. Lionel and I exchanged glances and gasped. ‘What is it?’’ I said, nearly stunned. ‘*Let’s go and see!” said he, all a-tremor. | And so, scarcely able to veil our haste and | give our errand the appearance of accident, we took our hats and canes, walked round the corner in the opposite direction, crossed the avenue a block above, and came down on the opposite side, pausing as casually as might be in front of our new neighbor’s. And then we saw what was in the heavy gold frame. It was the Blakelock! Eh bien, that was only the beginning! The de- ceitfulness of women! Here I had supposed that Mrs. Cartiea, being the widow of the well-known banker, was wealthy and the possible source of a steady customer. Nay more, I had toward her a most kindly, warm feeling, which was in no way traceable to her supposed riches, though the five hundred she had paid without protest for that wretched little painting was enough to warrant me in supposing her a woman of means. Y But her clear blond beauty and slender figure, charmingly accentuated by her weeds, were in itself quite enough to—enough to—well, enough! And here she was setting up as a dealer under my very nose in the very house I had desired

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and with my own fake picture as her piece dé rtnership And not a word of any p: THE SATURDAY EVENING POST resistance ! Well, all I can say i that men in my line are seldom so deceived. “Well, what are you going to do about it, my dear boy?” id Lionel. ‘*You can’t very well throw aspersions on that picture; you sold it to her!” ““Pour amour de Dieu, find out what she ng for it at any rate!” I snapped “You ask her!” suggested Lionel “Ask her—I wouldn’t speak to her!” Ir ed. ‘* What he has done is positively unethical.” “Well, rather!”’ he agreed But he took her to luncheon the next d and re rned with the interest ng new that the B eloc | authentic: picture and that Morgenthaw had offered four ind Ito ! And to thir 1 had not had the courage ig 1t t their atter mr elf! “You ought to see her place!’’ Lione vel yn ‘It’ 1 wonder, Do you know she has invested her last cer nit? And that picture, the sale th the reputatior it bring I is going to put the pro ion over!”’ *““And I suppose she'll } almost unable to control 1 “Not a chance ame do think I ought to rt oceasional lunch and ill that—for pure pusine reasol He patted the white irnat or I Dd { hole and ai Kea i himself in one t} Chinese mir t most irritating manne “Doa 1} e! I 1. “I’m sure nothing to me!’ ‘*Now | nt ( ro i aid Lione ‘*“You upset me so when our 49° ‘**Well, don’t torment ind have a swissess, Owe were ine And iends once more, But he continued Oo ee a lot of Mr : +t had dropped L } ' nel I might have se For a Long Time NK: and Then at Last Olid Man McGuire Gave a Low Whistle. body And even if she ed down into a mere he came back from friendly rivalry. But when one day nch two hours late and told me he had proposed to her bitter feeling toward the woman ing up in me. “But she wouldn’t have me!” Lionel continued. “She there was something all wrong with me—that I was a good salesman, but what she wanted was a husband; and she wasn’t so sure she even wanted that.” Eh bien, it would be difficult to whether this more red me pleased or embitt relieved that they had quarreled, « straitened terms, for without Lionel n tige. A suffered both in tr: furiously indignant that , , de and pr 14e and pre I wa ciate him. However, it was not imp« needed was a master—a superior int in time to show her that I— well, that how her. Comprenez-vous ? And ir the end, at least 1 would find some us both. fins Fortunately, and yet un Lionel’s unhappiness wi dwell as lightly as possible on for it was painful as it wa feelings for a situation to engender, n’e considers, life is full of then At ar y ri cause of his going. Cnowing that we were both delicate our frailty had been enc ously in hours our work necessitated through and so forth, and never getting any e wise for us both to take a little t ip draft announced; for, of cour neither of us could possibly pass the so what earthly need was t Wescott was a married man perfectly healthy, so \ n in while we took a trip to South Ameri was Of « ourse | yssibl was immensely come to r at least ly place would have nd at the yuld so little appr that what she ellect; and I my mina ame time le nope d malt 4 well, to hould I fail to win her method of revenging ctacie of I shall removal, a curious s of t-ce pas? But if one ate the draft was the > by nature and that reased by the ] late entertaining clients, xercise, I had felt it at the time the fir e, I was cor d al examination, is to stay in town? children, though harge of the gallery Ip a few ca to picK up a Spanish things and restore our health. Unfortunately, it restored Lionel’s to such an extent that, business obliging me to send him back to New York, he was at once seized upon by the local board and thrust into a most unbecom- ill-fitting uniform he dear boy immediately cabled me to stay where } I was, and I did so until it seemed reasonably safe, when I returned unobtrusively and invited Aunt Jane to visit me. Aunt Jane being seventy and having hitherto made her home in a sort of institution especially ranged for such persons as she is, I was able once having removed her from it, to claim * her as a dependent in case of emergency. t . Eh bien, let us pass over the painf itt ation ast iefly as po ible Lionel was gor ’ re ce Lr ee R Spoke, “It's a Wonder!"" He Said. and the place was désolé wit The very candelabra and Venetian and embroideries in the buhl cabinet appeared to droop hout him. mirrors seemed to m } ] m, and the old laces more sadly because of his absence. The best salesman in the art world was gone, perhaps never to return; or to return with something missing—who could know? And then the difficulty of filling his place at it ! Not tl sut the plain difficulty could ever be actually filled. finding anyone who could even approximate his work anyone to just stand round in the shop and show things! Talk about the labor shortage, it is nothing, absolutel nothing, compared to our difficulties! However, this did not eem to affect our neighbor, Cartiea, Inc., who apparent! j icceeded in hiring all the presentable young married men n the city. But as for me, it ended in my actually having to engage a female a you oman who had studied art and so could talk fairly inte t hough, of course, she not t 0 valuable with the women clier a ] nel lbeen. Eh bien! C'est la querre! Iwi ay, though, that in time she learned to do rather well; 1d she Was So prett that when the munitions connoisseurs began to pour in she was possibly even more valuable than Lionel would have way, and her She was very smart-looking in a quiet peen, name was Eloise Dubois. She came from my own home town of Dallas, Texas, and in point of fact we had been at chool together. This had its but it had disadvantages too her re was not quite what a stranger's really had too much humor for the I didn’t care much for her myself— she knew me so ill, as I way she had of smiling did did it fail when old man McGuire came in for the first time il etait dréle, cet homme! Funny! And no least bit ashamed of his absurdity. He red face and his accent still bore a trace of his native I land. r six feet, I Say thick, in a hard crimson v udvarl tages, of cour e Par example for me when we were alone pect would have been, and she wort St ay, her smooth black hair omething to the men « lient Comme in the was Very I Ymerald He was a great big fellow— ove hould and as heavy and ay, a ised ( the ni bu and his lather how the wor Of course v once and m Eloise hover ments and t! not be kept or I said noth to discuss “But What is , DUSINeS it? And how he SH] ill clie I t bag be ' t ime more of giving the { heef I ( the were evidently hi een hi a despair, and he wor ' le him like a sort of Hiber ™ t ‘ ‘ ‘ ne bellowed ¢ ' i |} ¢ **Come in! he door behind him anc y ve that » iid. “Only I want to be ‘ None of the cheay er ore elle te ror l rephed ‘ hile Weseott and | re ned the background ed th ent mirt} Wi | yu ‘ { . ‘ te t _ = ail i t tu ait { t Obiect f rt us re I ne iid ‘ r None of dur naked pair ngs forme, young lady! | n hone man working on a ment and vetting big mone fe t, and Hing to pay tl ime for the furnishing of n big new house on Fifth So virtuous is right!" as 1 make munitior nerhap tid Eloise in her We 1 a way, yes!” 1 he it ma be you wl al Thomas P. Me re, makes Oleoil, best for mar { beast! Oils machinery both T ind mechanical; or did the Government found inge n the receipt w yuld é ! yx on gas and he plant at me ow ¢ And now I'm feedin’ the imn thing to the Dutehmer 2 , obiect of virtus ly P for me Fifth Avenur acd j " ve figure irself how t innouncemer nded ty ' ’ Hlere " é lather t hop itt ‘ , est | m ol he ‘ i lo you see? Tr , t fact mel had neve > + i} father of hisemployme } , nas ’ ‘ ’ ‘ e Old B l ' ‘ irrel over Lione en \ } it ! it the | ! nit , ‘ Deu dear es! ( ne ny ¢ f I rea i the it I } ed it at ‘ urge if the ‘ eepiny Se a ait t hie y ser act nat M MeGuire . nh could = ifter sl iy fron f Lionel, t] gh Il wa | iyit ne ne ! ‘ | ha , t tir ind eaded ‘ re ‘ tical m. fuss ‘ | I Hal if ai ray, e 1] went to P r—and 4 eal . we D ot t 1 treasu ‘ “Dar ‘ Rather ar ‘ ‘ . n Blakeloct | } ifter nearly a year of ( u igenius ina way, Continued on Page 53

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12 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST OL OF TH By Meyer Bloomfield MOORE CONTR HAT that the war is over? a slump in British initiative?"’ You hear juestions like this wherever you go, and wherever British business men or manufacturers forgather. What they have in mind is not the volume of their future ill British industry look like, now Does the war mean ve rade will no doubt be good, given the tonnage. Amer- in competition is something to think about, but it isn’t that which gives much concern just at present. Reconstruction is what men are thinking of, and by this they mean the kind of team play and sense of common terest that may or may not obtain in the relation of employer and employed, and in the task of restoring the economic life of the nation to a sound peace footing. Industrial policy is the topic of chief interest An early inderstanding of what it i to be is urgently sought. What ever else may be put off, an agreement on this question } iament or any other public body that men are looking for a solution. The answer, all agree, 1 each trade and business embraced under this general head. In the hands of the men whe carry on the industrial life of the country —own- ers, managers and the rank and file—rests the fate finally of any industrial policy If they reach a working basis for the forwarding of their common business, with other than their own, all will be ii with industr tself, wit adopt« d 1e regard for interest vell If they do not, reconstruction will halt and stagger, ind well-being, prosperity, opportunity—call it what you ease — will take wing In these circumstances the wrecker alone has his innings; ready to hand. There is no occasion for any For all the strain of four years’ night- mare neither workmen nor managers show any signs of Quite the other way; they are nis ax | panic of course having lost their head umazingly sound in their headwork, and their zeal is far from winded Che spirit and the nation were expressed exactly the other day by the Min ter of Labor, who in a talk on this very live topic of new industrial policy told a group of manu unshaken common sense of the facturers and labor representatives “Iti go about this business in a sane and your duty to see to it that we British way. Our people are not easily lured away by the fanaticism whose have dreary and blood-stained doing © often led simple men to disaster and disillusionment, as in the case of un happy Russia. We must find something firm—to guide us against corrupting doctrines. Our new problems are much more intricate and diflicult than were those we had to face during the war. No tate department can do things so well as those who are engaged in a particular trade can do for themselves. I am sup posed to be a bureaucrat, being a min ister of the Crown. I realize the limita tions of office. Greater efficiency lies with those employers and employed who work out together the problems of their common. busines There must be good, all-round organization in every trade. We need a representative indus trial council in every business, which can speak with an authoritative voice for the whole indu try. The govern- ment will refer to such councils for the purpose of guidance.” The Whitley Reports i keystone of our country *s in dustrial future is in the getting to gether of employer and employee. For the period we have ahead we need the most active and the closest coéperation between them. We have recommended to both sides the scheme of the W hitley report, which scheme is now in success- ful operation in a number of industries We do not ask you to swallow this plan or use it if you have something as good or better which does the work in your own particular trade. Only we point out the need of some such basic princi- ple and organization for every industry; 1 body which can speak for it in a rep resentative way. Such a plan is typi cally British. It does not make for DECORATION ar GUERNSEY revolution. Ready-made Utopia is the will-o’-the-wisp which has lured men in all ages. We possess intelligence enough to distinguish what is possible and practicable from the glamour of magic vistas.” So industrial Britain is going in for a tryout, a fair experi- menting with the suggestions and the proposals outlined in the famous Whitley reports. The campaign has been sufficiently promising to wring this acknowledgment from the Munchner Neuesten Nachrichten: ‘‘The attempts made by the English to reform industry deserve consider- ation by us, also, since in the great struggle after the war that nation will certainly come off best which carries over unimpaired from the war period into peace the ideal of work for the common good, and which takes due account, not only in politics but in the organization of industry, of the self-consciousness of the people which has grown so immensely during the war. Without losing sight of our own special circumstances we have every reason to follow with the greatest attention the development of the situa- tion in England.” “Whitley” has become a sort of slogan in the British industrial world to-day. The Right Honorable J. H. Whitley, deputy speaker of the House of Commons, is a member of a large firm of Yorkshire cotton spinners. In 1916 the Cabinet Reconstruction Committee set up by Mr. Asquith appointed him chairman of a special com- mittee charged with going into the whole question of the future relations between employer and employed. This committee was made up of twelve members, and included trade-union officials like J. R. Clynes, who later became Food Controller; economists like J. A. Hobson and Prof. S. J. Chapman; employers like Sir Gilbert Claughton, general manager of the London and North Western Rail- way; two women, and other well-known specialists. The appointment of this committee was most opportune, and it was obviously necessary. Considering the industrial &> March 15,1919 situation at the time, the committee appeared if anything somewhat belated. For more than two years before the Whitley group started its work unrest had been rife and threatened to spread, how far no one could guess. Industry was in a fer- ment; what showed on the surface of things was only less disconcerting than what could be surmised from the under- current. Only the declaration of war averted the immi- nent total paralysis of the country’s transportation system, with the coal miners and the building-trades work- men ready to join in. In London the building industry was completely tied up by both strike and lockout. To bring matters to a head the national body of building-trades employers had decided on a nation-wide lockout in support of the London employ- ers. Only the outbreak of war put a stop to such a suicidal move. With local civil wars threatening in all directions, with irresponsible groups of men possessed of the power to bring about all sorts of industrial dislocation and inflicting untold misery upon the public—the situation was about as bad as it could be. All through the early stages of war bitter passions were smoldering; mutual distrust and ill will agitated employer and employed. Whatever the outward unity which Britain manifested in going to the rescue of France and Belgium, at home and in the daily intimate contacts of men in industry there was little sign of it. The curious thing is that everybody stoutly maintained his unswerving loyalty to the nation in her peril, and resented all and sundry imputations as to his particular brand of patriotism. Disquieting Episodes at Home T WAS a case of the double life, inconsistent to a tragic degree. The very men who were so keenly anxious to ward off the danger that threatened from without, who were sending out their own sons or kinsmen to the trenches these same men were making a vain attempt to carry on at home, with a shattered morale, along the industrial front. War considerations suppressed the news of certain disquieting episodes of this home struggle. In the Clyde Valley, for example, the men, going over the heads of their constituted offi- cials, and led by a small group of shop stewards, began a movement which attained no little momentum before it was headed off, and which was known as the Withdrawal of Labor Committee No word of it got abroad. This com- mittee represented the very negation of the ideas and method of collective bar- gaining. It made for anarchy in the industrial world, and was naturally exposed to destruction by the same method it sought to use against the or- derly course of negotiation and binding agreement. Obviously the war could not be won while such a situation continued, nor could industry readily recover even after victory on the battlefield, were it ever so glorious. Recrimination was useless; both sides could play that game, and did with zest. Nor could a resort to force avail. Conflagrations are not quenched by violent emotions, nor states of mind corrected by the use of the bobby’s truncheon. The public at large was clamoring for a truce, if not a healing, in this dark situation. Bales of printed matter show how much public interest was agitated, what fears were felt for the boys across the Channel Letters to the Times are the normal safety valve in ordinary emergencies, but at this particular juncture that in- stitution failed to work. So the Whitley Committee set out in troubled waters to find a binding prin- ciple and program; a program which, whatever modifications might be im- posed by local conditions, should at least point a way to industrial peace. Among her other familiar abhorrences Nature abhors an industrial vacuum. Laissez faire is impossible. The com- mittee wisely spent no time on causes of unrest; it was not an investigating body set up to probe into the past; it took unrest for granted and proceeded to find out what could be done about it. (Centinued on Page 134)

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST “Hannah Was Dog Poor When She Died, That's Certain. PTE maid, smart | urched ruffled muslin and bla . ho ad- mitted them to the somber luxury of tne rector ne ited 1 ncealed ilky oe eS a a “Doctor Gor ve has hardly arted dinner,” she i erted ** Just ask him to come out for a little,’’ the man repeated. He was pa middle age, with a gaunt, | igh-boned coun- tenance and clear blue eyes, aw ard in harsh, ill-fitting and formal clothes His companion, a wistfully pale girl under an absurd and expensive hat, laid her hand in an embroidered white e on his arm and said in a low tone: ‘‘We won't bother him, Calvin. There are pler nisters in Washingtor or we ould come ba later “There are, and we could,” he agreed; ‘‘but we won't I’m not going to wait a minute more for you, Lucy. Not , 1 have been waiti _ > GAUNT young man with clear blue eye at on the bank of a mountain road and gazed at the newly built house opposite. It was the dwelling visible. Behind the ra rose in a dark wv rainst the evening \ mn either hand the small greet ey W st In a blue haze of serried peal Phe is not l ng; iInreality small, but a ory anda i had a |e if three room with a kitchen forming an angle, invisible from where Calvin Stammark sat; an outside chimney at each end, and a narrow covered por » OVE e trot door An expiring clatter of hoofs marked the departure of the neighbor who had helped Calvin set the last flanged course It seemed incredible that it was finished, ready — when the furniture and bright rag carpet had been placed—fo Hannah. ‘The truck pat vill go in there on the right,” he told himself; ‘‘and gradua I'li get the slope cleared yut, corn and bDuckwhe plante He twisted about, facing the valk It wa lee} ! grass, watered W reams like tw ny Shining ribbor and held a sleek, slow-grazing herd of cattle The care of the latter, a part of Senator Alderwith’ wide possessions, was to form Calvin’s mair Lor for the present anyhow. ( n Stammark had larger plans for his future with Hannah. Some day he would ov the Alderwith pastures at his back and he'd be grazing hi own steers His thoughts returned to Hannah, and he rose and pro ceeded to where a saddled } was tied beside the road He ought to go back to Greenstream and fix up before seeing her; but with their home all built his impatience to ith her was greater thar s sense of propriety, and he put his horse at a sharp canter Calvin continued down the valley until the road tu into an opening through the range, which he followed into a steeper and narrower rift beyond. Here there were no clearings in the rocky underbrush until he reached Rich- mond Braley’s land. A long upturning sweep ended at the house, directly against the base of the mountain; and STRATE DO BY SaeaerTt RA Wichout dectr ing his gait he passed over the faintly traced way, by the triangular sheep washing and shearing ven, to the stabling shed Hannah’s mother was bending fretfully over the kitchen stove, and Richmond, her father, was drawing off sodden leather boots. He was a man tall and bowed, stiff but still powerful, with a face masked in an unkempt tangle of beard “Hy, Calvin,” he cried; ‘you're just here for spoor licking! Lucy was looking for company.” Mrs. Braley’s comment was below her breat corroboration of her husband's reassurance, ‘ You'll find Hannah in the front of the house,” Richmond added She was sitting on the stone steps at the side entran As usual Hannah had a bright bow in the ind her feet were graceful in " to the parlor hair streaming over her back, ippers wit ! " ‘ \ | ! i 1 thin black stocking she Kissed him willingly and studied him with wide There wasn’t another girl in Greenstream, in Virgin ned hazel-brown eye with Hannah's fetching appearance, he thought with a glow of adoration. She had a—a sort of beauty entir« her own; it was not exactly prettine but a quality fa more disturbing, something a man could never lorget +] She’s done,” he told her abrup “What?” Hannah gazed up at him with a dim sweetne in the gathering dusk “What!” he mocked her. ‘* You ought to be ashamed to ask. Why, the house—our home. We could move in by a week if we were called to. We can get married any time She now looked away mm him, her face still and dreaming ‘You don’t seem over! It’s just the idea,” in declared. e replied. “‘] never thought of it like this befor right on a perso! he sighed “Or course it will be nice, Cal er slim knee k patch; there’s a He sat below her with an arm a I'm going to dig right into the tr parcel of pole it Io he bean yon t be much the first year; but wait and we'll show people how to live He repeated his vision 1 con! tl with the present Alderwith holding “I wonder will we ever be rich like the senator?” “*Certainly,”’ wi nviction. “A man couldn't be outodof Hannah. He'd be obl ged 0 have ever nit e best It'll take a long while thoug he continued “We will have to put in some hard licks,”’ he admitte *‘But we are young; we've got a life todo it ir ‘**A man has, but I don’t know about gir It seer ike they get old faster; and then thing lk dresses don't do them any good. How would ma look in fashionable clothes!” “You won’t have to wait that long,” he assured her “Your father has never hurt himse! l there’s no money in sheep; and as for Hosmer—you know 1 pla h, but it was plainly no L Like Everything Eise I Can Lay Mind on She Came to a Bad End By Joseph Hergesheimer EIGH “i moved carele tM et ervals she ed by H dishes in a sile but perce Ca Star ed tl ( to ‘ mind tha l ‘ ive the He had « I | i! if \\ and maybe in tin r. ( for their bett 1 su of Har al t ne na thie YY tT? j ) He Pp Gree ‘ tau i a ‘ Hi } 1 I? I bra that H 13 Y VALLEYS oe i le if the Store clothe ‘ f m there ' e untidy tha he de ired ; ' , R nd and Hanna ¢ wed 1 ‘ At ra ! he ne ‘ f he ner 1] ité i ne nable na Gree 4 ( iH 1 he tte the f it ‘ é ‘ fa } f. ' *) }’ ‘ ‘ { T ‘ é

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14 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST After supper in view of the fact of their courtship Calvin ind Hannah were permitted to sit undisturbed in the formality of the parlor. The rest of the family congregated vith complete normality in the kitchen. The parlor was in uncomfortable chamber with uncomfortable elaborate hairs in orange plush upholstery, a narrow sofa, an organ f highly varnished light wood ornamented with scrolled fretwork, and a cannon stove with polished brass spires. Calvin sat with an arm about Hannah’s waist on the ofa, while she twisted round her finger the ring he had given her, a ring of warranted gold clasping a large red ye. Her throat was circled by a silver chain supporting a mounted polished Scotch pebble, his gift as well. Their position was conventional; Calvin’s arm was cramped from its unusual position, he had to brace his feet to keep place on the slippery plush, but he was dazed with delight. His heart throbs were perceptible in his wrists and throat, while a tenderness of pity actually wet his eyes. At times he spoke in a hushed voice, phrases meaningless in word but charged with inarticulate emotion; Hannah replied more coherently; but for the most they were silent. She accepted the situation with evident calm as an inevi- table part of life. Drawn against him she rested her head lightly on his shoulder, her gaze speculative and undis- ' turbed Once he exclaimed: “I don’t believe you love me! I don't believe you're interested in the things for the kitchen, or the bedroom suite I saw in a catalogue at Priest's store!” “Don’t be silly!’ she murmured. “Why shouldn’t I be when it's my own, when it’s all I'm going to have?” He cried bravely: “It’s only the beginning! Wait till j our cattle herded over the mountain to the rail- road; wait till you see a spur come up the Sugarloaf and haul away our hardwood. Just you wait There was the clip-clip of a horse outside and the you se creaking of wheels “IT believe that’s Hosmer.”’ Hannah rose. ‘It’s funny, too, because he said he'd have to stay at the hotel to-night, there was so much settling up at the bank.” It was, however, Hosmer Braley. He paused at the parlor door, a man in the vicinity of thirty, fat in body and carefully clad with a white starched collar and figured satin tie “I didn’t want to drive out,” he said, at once bland and aggrieved, “‘but it couldn't be helped Here's a piece of news for all of you Phebe is coming home to visit. She wrote me to say so, and the letter came on this evening's stage Whatever do you suppose took her?" Hannah at once flushed with excite- ment— like, Calvin Stammark thought, the parlor lamp with the pink shade, turned up suddenly. An instant vague depression settled over him; Hannah, only the minute before in his arms, seemed to draw away from him, remote and unconcerned by any- thing but Phebe’s extraordinary return. Hosmer made it clear that the event prom- ised nothing but annoyance for himself. ‘She's coming by to-morrow’s stage,” he went on, untouched by the sensation his information had wrought in the kitchen; “and it’s certain | can’t meet her. The bank's sending me into West Virginia.” Richmond Braley, it developed further, was bound to a day’s work on the public roads. They turned to Calvin “Take my buggy,’ Hosmer offered; *“T'll have to go from Durban by rail.” There was no reason why he shouldn't meet Phebe Braley, Calvin realized. He lingered, gazing with silent longing at Hannah, but it was evident that she had no intention of returning to the parlor mi \ AITING in Hosmer’s buggy for the ar- rival of the Greenstream stage and Phebe Braley, Calvin was conscious of the persistence of the depression that had invaded him at the an- nouncement of her visit. He resented, too, the new element thrust into the Braley household and dis- rupting the familiar course of his love. Hannah had been unreasonably distracted by the thought of seeing Phebe—the Phebe who had gone away from the mountains and become an actress The buggy was drawn to one side of the principal Greenstream road, at the post office. Before him the way crossed the valley and lifted abruptly to the slope of the eastern range. At his back the village—the brick Methodist church and the white painted Presbyterian church, the courthouse with its dignified col- umns, the steres and varied dwellings—was settling into the illusive May twilight. The highest peaks in the east were capped with dissolving rose by the lowering sun, and the sky was a dusty blue. “That's No Way to Answer a De: cent Man. Lucy and I Want to be Married. There's Noth: ing Wrong With That"’ Calvin Stammark heard the approaching stage before he saw it; then the long rigid surrey with its spare horses rapidly rolled up over the open road to the post office. He got down and moved diffidently forward, seeing and recognizing Phebe immediately. This was made possible by her resemblance to Hannah; and yet, Calvin added, no two women could be more utterly different. Phebe Braley had a full figure—she was almost stout a body of the frankest emphasized curves in a long purple coat with a collar of soiled white fur. A straw hat with the brim caught by a short purple-dyed ostrich feather was pinned to a dead-looking crinkled mass of greenish-gold hair, and her face—the memorable features of Hannah was loaded with pink powder. Calvin said: ‘‘ You must be Phebe Braley. Well, I’m Calvin Stammark. Your father or Hosmer couldn’t meet the stage and so they had to let me get you. Where’s your bag?”’ She adopted at once an air of comfortable familiarity. “I don’t remember your name,” she said, settling beside him in the buggy. He told her that he had come to this vicinity after she had gone and that he was about to marry her sister. “The hell you say!” she replied with cheerful surprise. “Who'd thought Hannah was old enough to have a fellow!” They were out of the village now and she produced a paper pack of cigarettes from a leather hand bag with a florid gilt top. Flooding her being with smoke she gazed at the mountain wall on either hand, the unbroken green- ery sweeping to the sky, with a shudder. “It’s worse than I remembered,” she confided, resting against him. “‘A person with any life to them would go dippy here. Say, it’s fierce! And yet, inside of me, I’m kind of glad to see it. I used to dream about the moun- tains, and this is like riding in the dream. I’m glad you came for me and let me down easy into things. I suppose they live in the kitchen home and pa’d lose a currycomb in his beard. Does Hosmer still beller if he gets the chicken neck? “Do you sit in the holy parlor for your courting, and ain’t that plush sofa a God-forsaken perch for two little love birds? It’s funny how I remem- ber this and that. I reckon ma’s temper don’t improve with age. They kid me something dreadful about say- ing ‘reckon,’ in the talent. But it’s as good and a damn sight better than ‘I guess.’ That’s all they get off me.” Calvin Stammark’s vague uneasiness changed to an acute dislike, even a fear of Phebe. Her freedom of dis- course and person, the pow- dered hard face close to his, the reek of scent—all rasped the delicacy of his love for Hannah. The sisters were utterly different, and yet he would have instantly recog- nized their relationship. Phebe, too, had the disturb- ing quality that made Hannah so appealing. In the former it was coarsened, almost lost; almost but not quite. “T’ll bet,” she continued, “that I'm the only female prodigal on the bills. Not that I’ve been feeding on husks. Not me. Milwaukee lager and raw beef sand- wiches. I have a passion for them after the show. We do two a day and I want solid refreshment. I wonder if you ever saw me. Of course you didn’t, but you might have. Ned Higmann’s Parisian Dainties. Rose Rayner’s what Igoby. That’sFrench, but spelled different, and means brightness. And I'm bright, Casper. ““My, what are you so glum about—the dump you live in or matrimony? There was a gentle- man in an orchestra in Harris- burg wanted to marry me—he played the oboe—but I declined. Too Bohemian. . . This is where we turn,” she cried in a different voice, and they swung into the valley where the Braleys had their clearing. Phebe crushed the cigarette in her fingers. Suddenly she was nervous. “It’s natural I have changed a lot,” she said. “If you hear me saying anything rough pinch me.” March 15,1919 Richmond Braley was standing beside his house in the muddy clothes in which he had labored on the roads, and Mrs. Braley and Hannah came eagerly forward. Behind them sounded Susan’s racking cough. Sentimental tears rolled dustily over Phebe’s cheeks as she kissed and embraced her mother and sisters. “‘H’y,”” Richmond Braley awkwardly saluted her; and **H’y” she answered in the local manner. “Well,” he commented, ‘‘you hain’t forgotten that, anyway.” Calvin was asked to stay for the supper that had been delayed for Phebe’s return, but when he declined uncer- tainly he wasn’t pressed. Putting up Hosmer’s rig and saddling his own horse he rode slowly and dejectedly on. Instead of going directly back to Greenstream he fol- lowed the way that led to his new house. ‘The evening was silvery with a full brilliant moon, and the fresh paint and bright woodwork were striking against a dark elevated background of trees. The truck patch would be dug on the right, the clearing widen rod by rod. From Alderwith’s meadows came the soft blowing of a steer’s nostrils, while the persistent piping of the frogs in the hollows fluctuated in his depressed consciousness. Calvin had drawn rein and sat his horse on the road. He was trying to picture Hannah standing in the door waiting for him, to hear her calling him from work; but always Phebe intervened with her travesty of Hannah’s clear loveliness. iv GAIN at the Braleys’ he found the family—in the kitchen—listening with absorbed interest to Phebe’s stories of life and the stage. Richmond Braley sat with an undisgui#¢d wonderment and frequent exclamations; there was a faint flush in Mrs. Braley’s dun cheeks; Susan tried without success to strangle her coughing. Only Hosmer was unmoved; at times he nodded in recognition of the realities of Phebe’s narratives; his attitude was one of complacent understanding. Calvin at last succeeding in catching Hannah’s atten- tion made a suggestive gesture toward the front of the house, but she ignored his desire. She, more than any of the others, was intent upon Phebe. And he realized Phebe paid her a special attention. ““My,” she exclaimed, ‘‘the healthy life has put you in the front row. Ned Higmann would rave about your shape and airs. It’s too bad to bury them here in the mountains. I reckon you love me for that ’’—she turned cheerfully to Calvin—‘“‘ but it’s the truth. If you could do anything at all, Hannah, you'd lead a chorus and go in the olio. And you would draw at the stage door better than you would on the front. Young and fresh as a daisy spells champagne and diamond garters. I don’t believe they'd let you stay in burlesque but sign you for comic opera.” The blood beat angrily in Calvin Stammark’s head. Whatever did Phebe mean by talking like that to Hannah just when she was to marry him! He cursed silently at Richmond Braley’s fatuous face, at Mrs. Braley’s indorse- ment of all that her adventurous daughter related, at Hosmer’s assumption of worldly experience. But Hannah’s manner filled him with apprehension. “It’s according to how you feel,” Phebe continued; “‘some like to get up of a black winter morning and fight the kitchen fire. I don’t. Some women are happy handing plates to their husband while he puts down a square feed. Not in mine.” “‘The loneliness is what I hate,’’ Hannah added. “Tt’s hell,” the other agreed. ‘‘ Excuse me, ma.”’ Hannah went on: ‘‘ And you get old without ever seeing things. There is all that you tell about going on—those crowds and the jewels and dresses, the parties and elegant times; but there is never a whisper of it in Greenstream; nothing but the frogs that I could fairly scream at—and maybe a church social,”’ As she talked Hannah avoided Calvin Stammark’s gaze. “*Me and you'll have a conversation,’”’ Phebe promised her recklessly. Choking with rage Calvin rose. “I might as well move along,” he asserted. “Don’t get heated,’”’ Phebe advised him. “I wouldn't break up your happy home, only I want Hannah to have an idea of what’s what. I don’t doubt you'll get her for a wife.” “There’s nothing but slaving for a woman round here, Mrs. Braley put in. “I’m right glad Phebe had so much spirit.” Richmond Braley evidently thought it was time for certain reservations. ‘‘You mustn’t come down so hard on Calvin and me,” he said practically. ‘‘We’re both likely young fellows.” “I'll be here evening after to-morrow,” Calvin told Hannah in a low voice. She nodded without interest. They must be married at once, he decided, his wise horse unerringly following the rocky road, stepping through splashing dark fords. If there was a repetition of the past visit he would have something to say. Hannah was his, she was promised to him. He felt the coolness of her cheeks, her bright mouth ” ¥ j ‘ y —-

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST against his. A tyranny of misery and desire flooded him at the sudden danger—it was as much as that—threatening his happiness and life. It was a danger founded on his entire ignorance of what he must combat. He couldn’t visualize it, but it never occurred to him that Hannah would actually go away leave him and Greenstream. No, it wasa quality in Hannah herself, a thing that had always lurked below the surface, beyond his knowledge until now. Yet he realized that it formed a part of her appeal, a part of her difference from the other girls of the He could see her relenting in the loss of the rigidity of her pose. Hannah’s head drooped and her fingers tapped faintly on the table. He moved closer, urging his advan- tage. “We're all but married, Hannah; our carpet is being wove and that suite of furniture ordered through Priest. You've been upset by this talk of theaters and such. You'd get tired of them and that fly-by-night life in a month.” “Phebe hasn’t,”’ she retorted. ‘* What suits one doesn’t suit all,” he said concisely. 15 “Tt isn’t what's right,” he corrected her, ‘but what you want. “‘There you go again at Pheb He replied grimly: In a dangerously calm voice rest, then?” **She’s a trouble maker,” he over which he seemed to have back to Greenstream and for no county. Maybe it was because he was never in his heart absolutely certain of her even when she was closest to him she seemed to slip away beyond his power to follow. His love, he real- ized for the first time, had never been easy or con- tented or happy. It had been dark, like the night about him now; it resem- bled a fire that he held in his bare hands. Hannah’s particularity, too, was allied to this strange, newly awaked peril. It was that, in a manner, which had carried Phebe out of the mountains. Now the re- semblance between them was far stronger than their difference. There was more than a touch of all this in the girls’ mother, in her bit- terness and discontent. He felt that he hated the elder as much as he did Phebe. If Phebe were a man He with the greatest care for his next evening with Hannah. Hosmer wore no stiffer or whiter collar, and Calvin’s necktie was a pure gay silk. He arrived just as the moon detached itself from the fringe of mountain peaks and the frogs started insistently. His heart was heavy but his manner calm, determined, he entered the Braley kitchen. No one was there but Susan; however, Phebe entered in an amaz- ing slovenly wrapper with a lace edge turned back from her ample throat; and Hannah followed. Phebe made a mocking reference to the sofa in the parlor, and Hannah’s ex pression was distasteful; but she slowly followed Calvin into the tional chamber. He made no attempt to embrace her, but said in- stead: ‘‘I came to fix the day for our wedding.” dressed as soon, conver “Phebe wants me to go with her for a little first,” she replied indirectly. ‘‘She says I can come back whenever I like.” “Your Phebe has no say in it.” He spoke harshly. ““We're honestly promised to each other and don’t need outside advice or interference.” “Don’t you go to call Phebe ‘outside,”” she a good thing she came when Perhaps I’m not retorted. *‘She’s my sister. Perhaps it’ he did, and saved me from being buried aiming to be married right off.” Vv ANNAH was standing, a hand on the table that held the pink-shaded lamp, and the light showed her petu ant and antagonistic. A flare of anger threatened to shut all else from Calvin’s thoughts; but suddenly he was con- cious of the necessity for care—care and patience. He forced back his justified sense of wrong “‘T wasn’t referring direct to Phebe,” he told her. “I meant that between us nobody else matters, no one in the world is of any importance to me but you. It’s all I think about. When I was building the house mered you into it with every nail you,” he floundered; ‘‘like our house—I ham- It is sort of made out of like I am.” Wicked, But I Can't Hetp It" “Tt would suit more girls than you know for,” she informed him. “Take it round here, there’s nothing to do but get married, and all the change is from one kitchen to another. You don’t even have a way to match up fellows Soon as you're out of short skirts one of them visits with you and the rest stay away like you had the smallpox. Qur courting lasted a week and you were here four times.” ““We haven’t much time, Hannah,”’ he reminded her. “Tt was right hard for me to see you that often. There was a smart of things you were doing too.” ‘The more fool!”’ Again his resentment threatened to leap beyond control. He clenched his hands and stared with contracted eyes at the floor. “Well,” he articulated finally, “we're promised anyhow; that can’t be denied. I have your word.” “Yes,” she admitted; “‘but chance that Phebe doesn’t mean I’d never come back.” “It would mean that you'd never come back,” he para- phrased her. **Maybe I would know better,” she answered quickly. “I’m sorry, Calvin. I didn’t go to be so sharp. Only I don’t know what’s right,”’ she went on unhappily. she exclaimed I went with I wish Phebe had stayed away a little longer. e!"’ she protested, “Not half what I feel.” she inquired: “What's the asserted in a shaking voice no commal d; “she came reason but her own slinked into our happiness. Your whole family—even Hosmer pretending to be so wise are blind as bat You can’teven see that Phebe’ “I Hate to Cook! And it Makes Me Sick to Put My Hands in Dishwater! I Suppose That's so acute, was numb. This, he voice within echoed that he wa Hannah; but he had no facult such a calamity. “Why, Hannah,” he said imp« His vision blurred so that he was as if, indistinct before him from his life ‘I never went t a curious detachment from |! everything I had.’ Calvin grew awkward nfu tures. At the same time Han: immeasurably. No other girl had ever seen, was like her: and Jose Hannah. At atically he been a man He was powerless not only ag but to combat what lay with Ha set her hands in hot dishwater to free his mind from so many u hard and unrelenting. He tried to mutter a phrase should but it perished return, Continued on hair is as dyed as her tor } ; ) tore She says she is on the stage, but it’s a pretty ! I've been to Stan and those Parisian Dainties and bur le que They're nothing but a lot of half luge wick seen shows naked women cavorting and singing fast song: And the show only be gins— with most of them when the curtain drops If I even try to think of you in that I get sick.” “Go on,” Hannah said, scarcely above her breath ‘*It’s bad,”’ Calvi Stammark went on. “‘ The women are bad; and a bad woman is something awful. I know about that too. I've been to the city as well as Phebe. Oh, Hannah,” he cried, “‘ can’t you see, can’t you!”” With a violent effort he regained the greater part of his composure, “‘ But it won't touch you,” he added; “we're going to be married right away.” ‘*We are?” Hannah echoed him thinly, in bit ter mockery. ‘I wouldn’ have you now if you wer the last with the way about Phebe! how you can stand thers and look at me. If I told pa or Hosmer they would You might as well know this as well man on you talked I don’t see earth, shoot you. I'm going back with her itll be gayer than these lonely old valle ys or your house stuck away all by itself with nothing to Alder- some set but Senator with’s steers.”’ There flashed into Cal- vin Stammark’s mind the memory of how he had planned to possess just uch cattle for Hannal and himself; he saw in the llusive lamplight the house he had built for Hannah. His feeling, that a second before had beet thought, wa trange u y ny to lose her, to ‘ cal ible of understanding tent] “Hannah couldr ee her clearly; he were already fading »y hurt you,” he yntinued i j thoughts and ge } le rabuilit ! eu | T ir eT tream, or t! il he } is about to lose her peated “If Phebe had inst exterior circumstance nnah. Phebe would never He shook f thoughts his head as i eles She stood about being here if she the of it Page 41 conviction

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16 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST NI rning a year and () i half ago a young man . I know left his home in } i bile lreased in clothes at wt five hundred dol- lu vith a couple of po f gem-incrusted gold oned into cigarette cases, and so on, disper ed about hi per- gon, a black pe irl in | tie that set | sdoring wife bacl i larg im at the preceding ( hristma , wrapped inatwo thousand-dollar fur-lined overcoat, and having enough hundred-dollar bills in his pocket to fill his imported } ier hat When he hopped into that itomobile, which had been brought by a liveried servant ler the porte-cochere of the pulace where he lived, in the nity of New York City, he was a rising, indeed quite an elevated millionaire, heavily upholstered with money, holding a place in the Street and married into a family that has it by the ton a gilded and golden youth to whom Fortune was opulently kind. When he returned to that palace a few hours later, still wearing all hissumptuou scenery, he was a private in the American Army; salary thirty dollars a month He had enlisted “In heaven’ name,’ came a protesting chorus when he told the folk what he had done, “what did you do that for? If you wanted to go into the Army why didn’t you let us try to get a commission for you?” rhe young man lighted a personally imported cigarette, took a reflective puff two and answered: Well, you see, I just thought I'd do something myself.” t off to camp and learned many things, in- cluding the vast difference between being awakened by a pussyfooted valet bringing in his coffee at ten-thirty in the morning, and the raucous bugle that hoisted him out of his blankets at five-forty-five A. M.; the contrast between dining at a Fifth Avenue restaurant and going- and-getting-it in an aluminum mess kit, which later he had to wash, himself; the change from telling a herd of ervants what he wanted to having everybody in the So he wen camp, except his buddie, telling him what he wanted, and doing that same at once— and many other things. He was liberally educated, that chap, in doing what other people told him to, and doing it at the drop of the hat. A Long Look From the Under Side PRESENTLY he went to France with his regiment. I came across him one day last October. At that time he was chauffeur for an officer, who, before the war, used to run an automobile-accessory place near where he lived and was a humble suppliant for hi “How are you?” | asked Fine!” he said. ‘* Don’t I look it He did He was lean and brown and hard. The little paunch he had had was gone, and so was the excess of ehin lis eve was clear, hi body erect, his overseas cap tuck jauntily on the side of his head, and his eve ry aspect was that of health and virility. We talked ‘This war,” he said, lighting a cigarette of a brand he wouldn't have allowed the third assistant garage man to smoke in the old days as done a lot of things for a lot of people, including me. I'm a Socialist now.” “Socialist?"’ I looked at him curiously. ‘‘You’re an odd sort of a bird to be a Socialist,”’ I said Well,” he replied, “perhaps I ain't, at that; but that is the only way I can define it. I mean that is the only comprehensive term which fits in with my changed views.’ 1 reckon I'll be able to define myself better later on; but whatever it is | am, I am not what I used to be, either in viewpoint or in practice. I've had a look at this game from the under side - and, believe me, it is the under side that I am going to string along with from now on!” I saw he had something to tell, but I did not press him. Instead, I gave him such news as I had that might interest him and produced some lk noisome cigarette SOLDII By SAMUEL G. R I March 15,1919 viewpoint and understand their thought and their com- plaint; and when I get this uniform off and get back home I am going to string along with them and see whether I can do anything to give them a fairer shake at life than they have! I know that military discipline is one thing and the alignment of the social order is another; but I know too that when you sum it all up it comes to class distinction, and there ought to be a way to even it up a little here and there. “T am no revolutionary, but this war has made me a democrat. I couldn’t have anything to eat at that place because I was a private and not an officer; and the tramp on the street can’t have any- thing to eat in my house because he is a private in or- dinary life and Iam an officer. That’s the long and the short of it! There must be a middle ground somewhere; but let me tell you that you'll never get it in a militaristic coun- try, and that all we men who are in this war know it. “The big lesson we have learned is that we don’t want militarism in our country; that the rigid class distine- The Men Who Returned to Philadeiphia on the Haverford “Say,” he began finally, “‘you know me, and you know how soft everything has been for me since I was born. Well, as I said, I’ve had a slant at the other side of it, and from now on I’m with the underdog.” He stopped and looked out toward the place where the big guns were thundering. “Were you ever hungry?” he asked—irrelevantly, it ‘I don’t mean just a little, but honest-to-God seemed. hungry? “Yes.” “Well, so have I been; so hungry I chewed bark off a tree. Listen here: When we made the big push up in the St.-Mihiel salient I was detailed as a stretcher bearer for my regiment. I worked seventy-two hours carrying out the boys who had been hit—seventy-two hours of heart- breaking labor bringing back those chaps that were wounded; and in those seventy-two hours I had only one meal and no sleep to speak about. It was tough, but it had to be done, and we did it. Finally, after the job was over, I was going back to try to get some food and some sleep. I was dirty, so tired I staggered, and so hungry I would have traded everything I owned for a chance at what we used to feed the dogs with back home. “I came to a place where someone was in a shack frying eggs and making coffee. I asked for something to eat. “““Who are you?’ ***T’'m a private of the th Infantry,’ I replied; ‘and | have been carrying stretchers for three days and have had only one meal. Please give me something to eat.’ “Well, sir, the smell of that coffee and those frying eggs almost made me crazy! I wanted to jump in there and grab that skillet. “*No,’ was the answer; ‘I can’t do it. I am cook- ing for the staff officers. There is a place seven kilo- meters farther along where privates can eat. This is for officers.’ “Well, I had to walk four miles more before I got a bite of food. Now while I was walking that four miles I got a new slant on things. Right there is where I shifted my gears. I knew then, and I know now, and I[’ll never forget, how the poor devils who slither past our winter house in New York— hungry, cold, miserable—feel when they look in the windows and see one of those big parties going on, with enough spent for flowers to feed a hundred of them; those bums and outcasts, maybe, but men just the same, who stand there on the walk with only a pane of glass between them and enough waste of food and waste of money to feed them and warm and strengthen a company of them. “I know how they feel. I know why they curse us and hate us, and what causes talk of revolution and protest against the present social order. I've got their tions of a big army must not be clamped on our country; that we have all been ready to go the limit in war, but while we have been going that limit we have learned both sides of it, and know that if our people allow the creation of a great military machine in our country because the professional military men want it we'll stand still instead of going ahead, and lose the very thing for which we have been fighting.” The Big Machine in Khaki “eae seen militarism from both sides—from the German side and from our own side; and we don’t want any of it of either brand. There are two million men in this country in American uniforms, and two million more over home in camps; and I'll bet you what you like that not ten per cent of those who were civilians before the war started have any other idea than to get out of their uniforms as quickly as they can and get back to their jobs. That’s what we think of this military business and that’s the big thing we have learned, along with an appreciation of the qualities which we never knew existed in the mass of the common men of our country, of the democracy that comes from the association and common cause we have had, and a mighty keen idea of the power we can exert when we do get back to our jobs and have a chance to take part in affairs again.” “What sort of power?” I asked. “Political power,” he answered. ‘‘Do you think for a minute that the four million Americans who went into this business intend to forget all the lessons they have learned? Intend to mix back in the old game in the old way? Intend to allow the old stuff to continue as it has continued, when by the simple keeping up of the solidarity the service in the Army has given them they can get things done their own way—the way their experiences and their new view- points indicate things should be done? If you do, guess again!” “You mean the Army is going into politics?’ “Sure thing! Gimme another cigarette.” That talk was but one of a hundred I had with American soldiers when I was in France, ranging in time from the days of Chateau-Thierry to the occupation of Germany after the armistice was signed. And I was well prepared to find, upon my return to the United States, in January of this year, that initial steps had already been taken toward welding these soldiers into an effective political machine. It was inevitable that this would be the case; for not only was the potential material at hand in these four million or more young American voters who had gone into khaki, but also in their corelated womenhood—most of them, or many of them, already with votes— and also because of the political precedent that exists in America. =

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 17 The Civil War veterans dominated the politics of the Eastern, Western and Northern United States for a genera- tion. The soldier was the greatest political asset the Republican Party had from the days of Grant to the days of McKinley; and in the South the Confederate veterans exerted the same political strength and demanded and received the same political preferment. There was carcely a community in this country where the soldier vote was not catered to or where the veteran did not have the call on the offices for many years. From 1868 to 1904 the Republicans nominated but one man for President was not a soldier—Blaine, in 1884—and he wa and all of them save Roosevelt, who served in the Spanish War, were soldiers in a war that ended early in 1865.’ Grant, Hayes, Garfield, Harrison and McKinley were all Civi! War veterans. Moreover, the political strength of the soldier was shown in the offices of lesser degree than the Presidency, down through the Senate, the House of Representatives, the yove rnorships, who beaten: the state offices and the city, county and village candi- dacies, The Grand Army of the Republic was not and is not specifically a political organization, but it always had and still has, to the degree of its diminished membership, a voting solidarity that it has been necessary to reckon with in determining both candidacies and elections. The men who fought and won the Civil War stood by one another in a comradeship that was as effective as it was extraordinary, not only in the civil affairs of life but in the political as well. And the roster of the elective offices in the Northern, Eastern and Western sections of this country from 1866 to the days, not so far gone, when the boys in blue became too old for office, if it could be compiled, would show that thousands upon thousands of former soldiers sought and obtained political pre lerment, Nonpartisan But Not Nonpolitical IKEWISE the Confederate veterans, with a similar or- ganization, exerted their powerful influence on the politics of the South. The political reasons for all these nominations and elections could not be obtained, but there can be no serious dispute of the statement that an essential qualification for the great majority of them was that the candidate had fought in the Civil War on one side or the other. These soldiers of the present know what has been done and they are quick to appreciate what may be done. Hence, we note the steps taken to organize the United American War Veterans and the Veterans of Foreign Wars, and the other stirrings in the direction of a com- pany of these soldiers that shall have for its incentive the well-being, rights, interests and ideas of the soldiers of the war now ended in victory for the Allied nations and the associated United States the soldiers of the United States had the glory of actually war, of finishing it, of putting in the punch t} to a ssful ter- mination. It will be some time, no doubt, be- fore an effective or- ganization is under way, because there } will be beginnings here and beginning there, and because the ideas of one set of men and the ideas of another set may not jibe. The first post of the G. A. R., for example, was or- ganized at Decatur, Illinois, in April, 1866, or about a year after the war ended, and the G. A. R. did get to its full flower as a fraternal organization until ome years later. It vas not a spontane- ous affair, but the well-considered con- ummation of a big idea, and though \ nonpartisan it was not nonpolitical, and played it part in the affairs of this country. However, taking it for granted that there will eventually be a great soldier or- es pec ially as winning the rought it succe not great the name and style of the United American War Veterans or under some other name and style, it may be interesting to set down here the results of talks I had with the men in France who will be the nucleus of this organization, and analyze their ideas as to purposes, grievances, reforms and incentives, for it is quite probable that some of the ideas I heard in France will be translated into action in this country, and certain that the basis for concerted political endeavor will be found not so much in the condi tions that exist in this country as in the new attitude toward those conditions that will be the result of army service, the outcome of changed views, of newer vision, of their experiences and of what they have learned, first hand, in field and in camp. The phase of it all that is most impressive is that these men, thrown into the great crucible of war, have had a great many ideas burned out of them, and a great many burned into them—that is, they see things from another and broader angle. They have learned the value of con certed effort. They have, in fine, been shown by experi- ence the value of organization and of discipline, and they are realizing that that organization and discipline need not necessarily apply only to military affairs but can be continued and perpetuated in civil affairs as well. I set down at some length at the beginning of this article a transcription of the new views of a young man who voluntarily changed his status from a millionaire to a doughboy getting thirty dollars a month for the hardest sort of labor. Let me illustrate again: Last September | was driven about France, all the way along the lines from Nieuport, in Belgium, to the Swiss border, through the Belgian, English, French and American Armies, by a private whose name was Jim. Jim was a quiet, efficient driver. He had little to say. Hie took orders and executed them intelligently. He was respectful, attentive, and one of the best hands with an automobile I ever had experience of. He never com- plained, was always on the job, bunked and ate where he could, and he drove that automobile into, across and through places where a goat would hesitate to go. He plugged along as steadily when the Germans were shelling the road as when we were on the Champs Elysées. One morning we had bad luck. We punctured three tires within the space of an hour. Jim got off, rolled up his sleeves and made the shifts expeditiously. It was heavy work, for we had a big car, and mostly we punctured in mud. As I stood watching him put on the third tire I heard him laughing. “‘What’s there to laugh at, Jim?” I asked him. “Or who? Let me in on it, for I can’t rake up a smile over this rotten luck.” **I’m laughing at myself,” he said, straightening up and wiping the sweat off his forehead. ‘‘ Before I enlisted in this war I owned the biggest garage in my home city, and it was a big one. When anything like this happened to me I used to have the driver do the dirty work, or leave the ir along the road if I was driving, and telephone in for another to « Now look at me!” he laughed again and leaned down to his job I pried a little into that young man’s mind to find out what he thought about it all, and this is what I discov- ered: “The reason ome out and get me And I enlisted in this war was because I w good and sore about the way the Kaiser was trying to pu it all over the rest of the world, and because I thought was up to the United States to step in and she hir where to get off. I didn’t to geta , or at thing like that because I figured that the quickest way to stop it was for a lot of fellows like myself to grab gur ' , and wallop the Heinies bac across the Rhine and chase them clear to know much about but I figured that the United tute was the biyyvest best country in the world, and that | an army in jig time are the biggest and be naturally would.” take it on the run for Frane¢ anything but my War Judged by Business Standards ” ELL, I took my training, and the ent me er here, Then they found out I knew all about cans and they set me driving them instead of letting me fight. That's all right. All these cars have to be driven, and I know how, It’s my part, Lreckon. But drive these army officers round this man’s army is run I began to do some thinking, and what I thought was this: I’m in the automobile bu and I know enough about it successful garage in my city, whic Now, the reason | have got the of its kind where I am is because after I quit school | learned that business, and all about it, and know how to run itas Also, because I get men to help me run i it too; men who have been trained to it l got he re and beg in to wher and to get wise to the way nes biggest and most h is considerable of a city. biggest and best business he¢ nuse l yade better than 1 vy about **Now, I can’t help comparing my automobile busine to the United States in this war. I run my business wit men trained to it, and the reason | icceed is because | handle my men right, know my c+ and overhead, watch my organization and utilize the knowledge of ployees. They are chaps who are trained to it. job. Now, take this war! I see that it isn’t much from my business in its general aspects, for the States is running the war, with the President as the bos and he is trying to utilize the men trained for war in the business of it. ‘‘Well, I see this war succeeding for us, that we are wir ning it, not because of the assistance of some of the met trained for it. I see the organization bi g down hers and busting down there, and bogging round, and machi ery not worked to it ighest efficiency, and blundering and fool regula and red tape, and a lot f stuff like that; and I think natunally that uur country, after and old-style stuff, and ant tions raining these men do tl job for I ind = thirty nd forty years, can’t produce a better lot f han hese are, in ‘ } nes hat ri ul ed for prote ! our ( intry probabl t doing any bette job in othe line publi ervice ome ot hese ‘ i ‘ } p de . i Tri 1 ! } ‘ ‘ i ‘ nen ' ‘ rt of ) ‘ it t ( profe nal soldier ganization in this oe ops country either under One of the First Returning Troopships, the Mauretania, in New York Harbor Continued on Page 79

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18 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST March 15,1919 Men, Women and Events During Eight Decades of [. MAY have earl Lou the I ! ILLUSTRATED BY i ivé been M I le P mi | | if A ) aid Alte me he del rl put hich ‘ { Wi eT h that thought Mr } j ; i! mind i 61 i e time for } ‘ from the Whité | e approached | he Nort ere 1d Dee! i pol il round ell; at the ith ece I half a ! hed he ¢ If ate iwned in the B ale tute | ur ous enough, very few believed that Nur Wa imminent As a reporter for the ites | met M Lit in immed ate n his arrival n Washington. He ime in unexpect edly ahead of the hour announced, to ipe is WAS given t, a well-laid plan to assassinate him he passed through Raltimore. [didnot believe at the time, 11 do not believe that there wa ny real ground for thi ipprehen ion All through the winter of 1860-61 there had been a deal of wild talk, One story had it that Mr. Buchanan was to be kidnaped and made off with so that Vice President Breck enridge might succeed and, acting as de facto President, throw the country into confusion and revolution, defeating the inauguration of Lincoln and the coming in of the Republicans, It was a figment of drink and fancy. There was never any such scheme, If there had been Brecken ridge would not have consented to be party toit. He wasa ronan of unusual mental as well as personal dignity and hoth temperamentally and intellectually a thorough conservative I had been engaged by Mr. L. A. Gobright, the agent of what became later the Associated Press, to help with the report of the inauguration ceremonies the 4th of March, 1861, and in the discharge of this duty I kept as close to Mr. Lincoln as I could get, following after him from the nate chamber to the east portico of the capitol and stand + by his side whilst he delivered his inaugural address, Perhaps I shall not be deemed prolix if I dwell with b me particularity upon an occasion so historic. I had first encountered the newly elected President the afternoon of the day in the early morning of which he had reached Washington. It was a Saturday, I think. He came to the capitol under Mr. Seward’s escort, and among the rest I 4 presented to him. His appearance did not impress me fantastically as it had impressed some others. I was familiar with the Western type, and while Mr. Lincoln is certainly not an Adonis, even after prairie ideals, there was about him a dignity that commanded respect. I met him again the next Monday forenoon in his apart- ment at Willard’s Hotel as he was preparing to start for his inauguration, and was struck by his unaffected kindness, for | came with a matter requiring his attention. This was to get from him a copy of the inauguration speech for the Associated Pre I turned it over to Ben Perley loore, who, like myself, was assisting Mr. Gobright. The resident that was about to be seemed entirely self- possessed; not a sign of nervousness, and very obliging. As | have said, I accompanied the cortége that passed ‘om the senate chamber to the east portico. When Mr. aneoln removed his hat to face the vast multitude in ront and below, I extended my hand to take it, but Judge Jouglas, just behind me, reached over my outstret« hed f I f l American History —By Henry Watterson JAMES mM. 4 # y FF os Neo Lunch for Us. We Got to Our Horses, Rode Away, and That Night I Was at Our Rendezvous to Teli the Tale arm and received it, holding it throughout the delivery of the inaugural address. I stood just near enough to the speaker’s elbow not to obstruct any gestures he might make, though he made but few; and then I began to get a suspicion of the power of the man. He delivered that inaugural address as if he had been delivering inaugural addresses all his life. Firm, resonant, earnest, it announced the coming of a man, of a leader of men; and in its ringing tones and elevated style the gentlemen whom he had invited to become members of his political family—each of whom thought himself a bigger man than his master—might have heard the voice and seen the hand of one born to rule. Whether they did or not, they very soon ascertained the fact. From the hour Abra- ham Lincoln crossed the threshold of the White House to the hour he went thence to his death, there was not a moment when he did not dominate the political and mili- tary situation and his official subordinates. The idea that he was overtopped at any time by anybody is contradicted by all that actually happened. I was a young Democrat and of course not in sympathy with Mr. Lincoln or his opinions. Judge Douglas, however, had taken the edge off my hostility. He had said to me on his return in triumph to Washington after the famous Illinois campaign of 1858: “Lincoln is a good man; in fact, a great man, and by far the ablest debater I have ever met,”’ and now the newcomer began to make good this opinion both in his private conversation and in his public acts, am HAD been an undoubting Union boy. Neither then nor afterward could I be fairly classified a Secessionist. Cir- cumstance rather than conviction or predilection threw me into the Confederate service, and, being in, I was in honor bound to go through with it. The Secession leaders I held in distrust; especially Yancey, Mason, Slidell, Benjamin and Iverson, Jefferson Davis and Isham G. Harris were not favorites of mine. Later along I came into familiar association with most of them, and relations were established which may be de- scribed as confidential and affectionate. Lamar and I were brought together oddly enough in 1869 by Carl Schurz, and thenceforward we were the most devoted of friends. Harris and I fell together in 1862 in the field, first with PRESTON Forrest and later with Johnston and Hood, and we re- mained as brothers to the end, when he closed a great career in the upper house of Congress, and by Republican votes, though he was a Democrat, was elected president of the Senate. Harris continued governor of Tennes- see through the war. He at no time lost touch with the Tennessee troops, and though not al- ways at the front, never missed a for- ward movement. In the early spring of 1864, just before the famous Johnston- Sherman campaign opened, General Johnston asked him to circulate among the boys and “‘stir "em up a bit.”” The governor invited me to ride with him. Together we visited every sector in the army. Threading the woods of North Georgia on this round, if I heard it ; e once I heard it fifty ——————————————— times shouted from a distant clearing: “Here comes Gov- *ner Harris, fellows; g’wine to be a fight.’’, His appearance at the front had always preceded and been long ago taken as a signal for battle. Being a Washington correspondent of the Philadelphia Press and having lived since childhood at Willard’s Hotel, where the Camerons also lived, will furnish the key to my becoming an actual and active rebel. A few days after the inauguration of Mr. Lincoin, Colonel Forney came to my quarters and, having passed the time of day, he said: ‘‘ The Secretary of War wishes you to be at the department to-morrow morning as near to nine o’clock as you can make it.” “What does he want, Colonel Forney?”’ I asked. “He is going to offer you the position of private secre- tary to the Secretary of War, with the rank of lieutenant colonel, and I am very desirous that you accept it.” He went away leaving me rather upset. I did not sleep overmuch that night. ‘‘So,’’ I argued to myself, “‘it has come to this that Forney and Cameron, lifelong enemies, have made friends and are going to rob the Government one Clerk of the House, the other Secretary of War—and I, a mutual choice, am to be the confidential middle man.” I still had a home in Tennessee and I rose from my bed, resolved to go there. I did not keep the proposed appointment for next day. As soon as I could make my arrangements I quitted Washington and went to Tennessee, still unchanged in my preconceptions. I may add, since they were verified by events, that I have not much modified them from that day to this. I could not wholly believe with either extreme. I had perpetrated no wrong, but in my small way had done my best for the Union and against Secession. I would go back to my books and my literary ambitions and let the storm blow over. It could not last very long; the odds against the South were too great. Vain hope! As well expect a chip on the surface of the ocean to lie quiet as a lad of twenty-one in those days to keep out of one or the other army. On reaching home I found myself alone. The boys were all gone to the front. The girls were—well, they were all crazy. My native country was about to be invaded. Propinquity. Sympathy. So, casting opinions to the winds, in I went on feeling. And that is how I became a rebel, a case of ‘first endure and then embrace,”’ because

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST I soon got to be a pretty good rebel and went the limit, changing my coat as it were, though not my better judg- ment, for with a gray jacket on my back and ready to do or die I retained my belief that secession was treason, that disunion was the height of folly and that the South wa bound to go down in the unequal strife. I think now, loctrine of secession the secession leaders had a debatable, that if the Gulf States as an academic proposition, that in the f not a logical, case; but I also think had been allowed to go out by tacit consent they would have soon been bac ivain seeking readm ion to tne Union We live in a world of sin, disease and death. The w of God to man are indeed mysterious and past finding out Why the long and dreadful the awful bloodshed and havoc of four long years, leay struggle of a kindred people, ing us at the close measurably where we were at the beginning, is one of the unsolved problems »> us that there is a world hereafter and beyond, since no great } } which should prove t h such dire inequal- pan of human life. creative principle could produce one wit through so shorta ities and contrast mi gems change of parties wrought by the presidential election of 1860 and completed by the coming in of the Republicans in ’ When Mr. Lincoln had finished his inaugural address and the crowd on the east portico began to dispe rse, I reéntered the rotunda between Mr. Reverdy Johnson, of Maryland, and Mr. John Bell, of Tennessee, two old friends of my family, and for a little we sat upon a bench, they discussing the ! 1861 was indeed revolutior r\ speech we had just heard Both were sure there would be All would be well, they tho of Mr. Lincoln. They were among the most boy of twenty-one; but Recalling the episode, I intuitions of youth outwit experience of age. I at Department and, closing my presently ready to turn my) adventure no war. ight, each speaking kin dly eminent men of the time, Ia certainty. the baffle the to me war seemed a often realized wisdom and have how the Interior sort, inecure in the accounts of every back upon Washington once resigned my snug Was and se »k elsewhere. They met me half Vay and came ir nty. I tried staff luty with General Polk, who was mak- ng an expedition nto Western Ken- In a few r Lucky. drove Nash- , where I passed next winter desultory newspaper Then Nash- fell, and, as I my way } 7 weeks Liness back to in the Work. ville was making out of and trudging wearily town afoot the Murfreesboro Pike, Forrest, with his squadron just é scaped from Fort Donelson, came thundering by, and I leaped empty saddle days later attached me to | staff, and the ix months it was mainly guerrilla service, very much to my liking. But Fate, if not Nature, had decided that I was a better writer than fighter, and the Bank of Tennessee aving newspaper outfit a Chattanooga, I was into an A few Forrest t nex bought a ent there to edit The Lebe ] my ow! naming estab- lished as the organ of the Tennesse¢ state government. I made it the organ of the army. It is not the pur- pose of these pages to retell the well- known story of the My life became a series of ups and downs—mainly the word being from day to day to fire and fall back; the Johnston-Sherman campaign, in which I served as chief of scouts; then as an aid to General Hood through the siege of Atlanta, sharing the beginning of the chapter of disasters that befell that gallant soldier and his army. I was spared the last and worst of these by a curious of special duty, taking me elsewhere, to which I was assigned in the autumn of 1864 by the Confederate ernment, This involved a foreign mission. It was no les go to England to sell to English buyers some hundred war. downs KZOV than to thousand bales of designated cotton to be thus rescued from spoliation, acting under the supervision and indeed the orders of the Confederate fiscal agency at Liverpool Of course I was ripe for such an adventure; but it proved a bigger job than I had conceived or dreamed. The initial step was to get out of the country. But how? That was the question. To run the blockade had been easy enough a few months earlier. All our ports were now sealed by Federal battleships and gunboats. There was nothing for it but in disguise to slip through the North and sail on either a New York or a Canadian boat. In West Tennessee, not far from Memphis, lived an aunt of mine. Thither I repaired. My plan was to get aboard a Mississippi steamer calling at one of the landings for wood This proved impracticable. I wandered many days and nights, rather ill mounted, in search of some kind—any kind—of exit, when one afternoon, quite worn out, I sat by a log heap in a comfortable farmhouse. It that I was at the end of my tether; I did not know what to do. Presently there was an arrival—a brisk gentleman right out of Memphis, which I then learned was only ten miles distant — bringing with him a morning paper. In this I saw appended to various army orders the name of “N. B. Dana, General Commanding.” That set me to thinking. Was not Dana the name of a certain captain, a stepson of Congressman Peaslee, of New Hampshire, who had lived with us at Willard’s Hotel—and were there not two children, Charley and Mamie, and a dear little mother, and I had been listening to the talk of the newcomer. He was a licensed cotton buyer with a seemed If Ever a Poor Devil Piayed for His Life, I Did. 1 pass to come and go at will through the lir and was M4 back next day. I turned to him and said ‘l want to get into Memph lam a nephew of M General Dana. Can you take me in?” After ome hesitation he ¢ ente I be agreed that my 1 ] ind outtit t ! ‘ me through; { he failed Clearly the way ahead was brightening. 1 ‘ tained that | was with friend yal Confederat Ihe I told them who I was, and all became « me nex da expe i lor We drove down to the Federa tpost. Cre i Was the name ol frie 1. the tton | } pa to tne eule na i me. “‘Captau 1 said 1 } e 1 I 1 nephew of Mrs. Gen Dana. ¢ i! without a pass’ He was very | It picket, he said; his orde Wer “Well,” I said, “suppose command and were run in here by guer think would be your dut o do? ‘‘In that case,”’ he answered, ‘‘] he adquarter s with a guard.” “Good!” said | “Cant you send n with a guard?” He moment thought a from the outpost Dana's | HN. ail I Crenshaw ‘Britton,”’ he said, ‘“‘show t} heady Crenshaw la voy thinks he is a guide, not a gua ight. We can easily This proved true. We vottle of wh dby asa aid, “‘Do you gentlemen want me ar iot. Then we gave him the bottle « lisappeared round the ¢ ‘Now Make track loon and bought a dquarters the lad more We did { wl y and he 1 are safe,”’ said But as I turned away and out of sight I began to con- sider the situation, Suppose that picket on the outpost reported to the provost marshal general that he had passed a relative of Mr Dana? What then? Provost guard. Drumbhead court-martial. Shot at daylight. It eemed best to pla out the hand as | had dea After I could make a f I faced it out A passing soldier rected me to the in i My Onty Fear Was That the Black Bombazine Cloth With Which My Aunt Had Covered My Gray Uniform Might Make a Breach Somewhere the drawing and asked Mrs. Dana conducted to I room d presently there } af , ‘ i" ( elf I | a 1 a gent ente ! Mr.W t t t ‘ ‘ loo f ( nel Me} ¥ Ge! l And ( nel Mehar Concluded on Page 60

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20 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST

FOUNDED A°D' 1728 PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY BY THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY INDEPENDENCE SQUARE PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA, U.S.A GEORGE HORACE LORIMER, EDITOR By Subscription $1.06 the Year Five Cents the Copy of All Newsdealers To Canada Uy Subscription $1.5@ the Year, Single Copies, Ten Cents Requests for changes of address must reach us at least two weeks before they can become effective. Be sure to give your old address as well as the new one Foreign Subscriptions: For Countries inthe Postal Union. Single Subscrip tions $4.54. Kemittances to be Made by International Postal Money Order PHILADELPHIA, MARCH 15, 1919 The Russian for Quitter W Kk AMERICANS find Bolshevism hard to understand This is not because the cult is so mysterious and recondite, nor because we are below par mentally; but for the simple reason that we have been misled in the matter of fundamental definition One afternoon the word Bolshevist cropped up in the news from Russia. Next morning every newspaper whose library boasted a Russian dictionary told us what it meant — or rather what the dictionary said it meant. Cer tain linguists of the telegraph desk defined Bolshevist as a wliever in the rule of the majority. Others said the word de ed those who favor broader opportunities for the down- odden. Soon enough came the day when the dictionary was degraded and stripped of its authority; for we were asked to link up the slogans of democracy with newspaper iccounts of assassination, arson, pillage, torture and whole ale execution Che lesson has not been lost upon us. When another new word of political import comes to us from overseas we shall not look it up in our dictionaries, but seek its definition We shall judge new cults not by their labels, but by their fruits. We shall base our definitions not upon the authority of linguists, not even upon creeds and platforms, but upon authentic records < In this simple manner we can compile forour own use a pocket political handbook, founded not upon shadowy theory but upon the firm rock of fact Already we have learned enough to define and discuss the word Bolshevist from day to day in the news di patches f actual performance. mmewhat as follow Bolshevist, in plain President’s American, means a quit ter. It signifies not only a quitter but a self-confessed and avowed quitter who has thrown up the game and admitted ir perhaps boasted to his fellows that he is not man enough All about him he has seen others no more favorably cir cumstanced than himself better their lot by the grit and pluck that are expressed by industry, thrift and dogged effort. But the quitter finds the gold coin of hard work and self-denial too precious to risk when the copper of alehouse Yet even the quitter winces economics | © abundant under the lash of self-accusation. If misery loves company shame craves it a thousandfold more. Quitters can hold up their heads only in the company of other quitters, and so they lose no chance to pread their infection and to swell the ranks that keep them in countenance. Like the fox who lost his brush they would urge the fashion of doing away with inherited decencies If the Bolshevist had a strong enough monkey wrench he bolt that holds civilization together He is against « verything that makes for stability. In his would unscrew every eyes every man who has managed his own affairs with sufficient prudence to rise in the world is by that very fact disqualified to bear the burdens of government. The rule of the unfit is his red Utopia He despises thrift, and he thinks his natural enemy any man who uses his head to save his heels or his brains to

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST He recognizes manual labor—though not much of it-—as a permissible necessity; but any work that can be done in a white collar must be part of the general plot to keep him down. Nothing so enrages him as to see others get ahead by sticking to their jobs and doing them well. Small tradesmen, toiling cobblers, little shopkeepers who work early and late—are the quitter’s pet abomina- better his lot tion. Their industry insults him and his sloth; and he retorts by calling them bourgeois, his supreme epithet of loathing and contempt! Such is the quitter’s attitude toward good citizenship Jeremiahs and Cassandras who know their Europe better than their native America are making dire prophecies as to what will happen when Bolshevism becomes firmly planted on our shores. But they need have no fear. America is not a land of quitters, and the temper of our soil and at- mosphere are not such as to permit the establishment of Bolshevism or quitterism We hear much nowadays of our opportunities in chan- nels of new trade; but not all of us know just where to begin garnering the harvest. Yet the starting line is obvi- ous. Let us push the export trade in Bolsheviki, quitters, anarchists and all such No other exports can begin to bring us such rich returns in peace, sanity and wholesome living Then let us by a stringent immigration law make it im- possible for European quitters to come to America. No Way to Help pic ercdaggede MENT was developing, munition plants / closing, war work stopping right and left, released soldiers looking for jobs. Every sensible person felt that this transition period from war to peace presented diffi culties and needed careful handling. The great object was to prevent a big backwater of idle labor, which would be bad for that labor, bad for all labor, bad for industry because idle labor, by restricting its consumption, tends to make more idle labor. A special effort was needed with energetic coéperation all along the line to set up defenses against a possible ac- cumulation of idle labor by making ready with public works, and so on, to absorb the slack if slack developed in a large way. In that juncture some labor in the Northwest—under leadership inspired by the syndicalist notion of always seizing a favorable opportunity to make as much trouble as possible—engaged in a series of irresponsible strikes. When labor particularly needed intelligent, sympathetic codéperation, that leadership chose to toss a bunch of hand grenades into the meeting and announce: ‘To hell with you!”’ The natural reaction on the part of many spec tators of the exploit was to reply: ‘‘ Well, in that case, the and to leave off bothering as to whether labor was employed or not. That leadership is the worst enemy to labor. It does not want peace or cojperation or understanding. It wants trouble, utterly careless how greatly the trouble reacts upon labor itself. Nobody can do labor a greater service than labor can do itself by throwing out its traitors. The Fight for Peace HAT would you think of an engineer who, after a head-on collision, said: “‘ Well, let’s back up and try that over again?’’ Some of your engineers are saying that. The great war brought civilization to the brink. The wreckage of lives and means of livelihood strews a quarter of the globe. Some of it is in your town—in the gold stars and crippled figures in khaki. Reactionaries want to back up to 1914, set the scene all over again as it was then, and see what will happen. They are purblind men, mole-eyed from long habitua- tion in legalistic dust; shut in by the narrow life of profes sional politics; unable to understand what has happened or what the country feels, They utter learned words that have no meaning—about entangling alliances, Washington; anything but to the main point. The United States risked all to fight a war for democ- racy. It can risk much to give permanence to the objects for which it fought. It is ready and eager to risk much. It knows that in a human world some chances must be taken. It will take its chances on the League-of-Nations side that promises stable peace and order; not on the Balance-of- Power side that promises only a repetition of 1914. same to you!” Dakota Experimenting S' )UTH DAKOTA became a state less than thirty years WJ ago and adopted a constitution in consonance with liberal political thinking at that time. A main feature consisted of the strict limitations it placed upon the powers and activities of the state. Taxes must be uniform on all kinds of property. The state must not engage in works of internal improvement or any industrial enter- prise. It must not expend money except for certain pur- poses or incur indebtedness beyond certain fixed bounds March 15,1919 It is easy to see what the constitution makers of that comparatively prehistoric day were thinking of. They proposed that the state should stick strictly to its conven- tional business of maintaining order, assisting education, and soon. They put it in astrait-jacket because they were afraid it might abuse unlimited powers to tax, incur indebtedness, carry on works of internal improvement. The sister state of North Dakota, admitted to the Union at the same time, fell under control of the Nonpartisan League, which has removed constitutional restrictions and launched upon an extensive experiment in State Socialism, including a state bank, terminal elevators and flour mills financed by state bonds and managed by the governor. South Dakota is still more or less nominally Republican. That party indorsed and voters last fall adopted a dozen or so constitutional amendments which also set aside the old restrictions, and under which the Republican governor has recommended classifying property to be taxed at differ- ent rates, a state cement plant, state hail insurance, and consideration by the legislature of state packing houses, flour mills and terminal elevators. All of which we are often invited to view with alarm. We believe Dakota farmers would have secured every tangible object they aimed at with less friction, less cost and greater benefit to themselves, the state and the nation, if they had resorted to voluntary cooperation instead of using the coercive political machinery of the state. Bankrupting a Nation | ge ‘ORDED public obligations issued abroad and held in the United States amount to nine and a half billion dollars. The greater part of them are British, French and Italian. But the list includes twenty-five countries, and as to only one of them is there grave doubt of repayment That one is Russia. You hear often nowadays that half of Europe, or-all Europe, is bankrupt. Only Russia is positively bankrupt, having lost her common honesty and her industrial organ ization. Probably Germany will have to write off her self held debts incurred in a crazy attempt to subjugat« Europe. Next day, if she keeps her industrial organizatior and skill, her will to work and to pay, she will be solvent again and entitled to credit. The Chicago fire broke a good many men. All their tangible property was swept away and insurance com- panies were unable to pay. Most of them—those who kept their courage, their ability, their will to work and to pay immediately started up again and were soon as prosperous as ever. There is no country in Europe that cannot find a solid road out of its present fiscal difficulties—the plain old road. Their wealth is in their spirit and their brains— ir their practiced skill at organized codperative effort for industrial production An able, sober, industrious man never stayed broke; nor an able, sober, industrious nation Spring Wheat VERY bushel of wheat raised in the United States this —4 year will be worth two dollars and twenty-six cents or a price based on that figure. An immense area was seeded to wheat last fall and has come through the winter in very good condition. Meantime wheat in free inter national markets is selling for about a dollar a bushel under the American guaranteed base price. By sowing wheat this spring, with good luck in the growing, an American farmer may get a large, sure, quick profit. He may also contribute to the creation of a huge American surplus, which will knock the bottom out of wheat prices for a year or two following. A restricted wheat area this spring tactics for American agriculture. s good long-run Settling the Question pe a winter month December was uncommonly favor- able to railroad operation. The Pennsylvania, Chicago and Northwestern, Illinois Central, Great Northern, St. Paul, and about eighty other roads, failed to earn operat ing expenses and taxes in that month—to say nothing of earning bond interest or dividends. Those mentioned have long been known as strong roads. Others in that category, like the New York Central, barely met expenses and taxes. In spite of the twenty-five-per-cent advance in freight rates and a greater advance in passenger fares, and of maximum business, only the Government’s guaranty stands between the rail system and bankruptcy—so greatly have wages and other expenses risen. Return to private management, with adequate safe guards both for the public and the railroads, and govern- ment guaranty of a minimum return upon the capital invested, looks more necessary as each monthly report comes in. We expect that when the record is made up the question of government ownership and operation will have been definitely settled for many years.

SS

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XXI from HEN Sall returned the Plummer country cll siadlimabioanonan ttentmanian By Nealbro Bartley her the pin she found her mother lhand going over the flat and making notations of articles and prices After the man left, Densie said briefly: * nove into the King’s Court Apartment the flat and I have no time to take care “Those are wide oper ‘I know, but I've leader and it pays a fair wage. manage the rent myself.” stone gave sapphire and a seconé man I’ve decided to I cannot neyvlect horribly expensive places!”’ Sally’s eyes were suffrage appointed district With my exchange I can been ““How in the world will you have time for the ex- change?” “I’ve a manager, a woman who needed the work.” Densie could have added: ‘‘A woman such as I was a few years ago—with cabin fever.’’ But she only explained: **She will take complete charge I've come to see that I cannot have a flat and a busine too. Harriet is never with us, and you and daddy are much of the time.” “Will you sell everything?” “Yes, I want mind I’ve tment tor me; a decorator in he did my le, YOu see, new somet!

an do the ap: who < exchange. I shall be er Sally was rather amazed eemed a and strange mummy

She did not know that Densie expected John to ask for a divorce, and she pianned on the apartment a her per- manent home “*How many rooms are there?” “Five—and a kitchenette We « get our dinners where we like; I shall have a1 t breakla in the living room Densie was businesslike a Sally if she approv but recall the day they moved She did not ask Sally could not flat and Densie ryone else first and herself he spoke ed or as to her views into the had been so eager t last of all “I’m sure it will be he mentioned meekly. She lingered about as her mother looked through a pile of books. “I’m said wistfully; come between them. “Why don’t you do something?’’ Densie asked hope- fully. ‘‘It is not too late to forget Rex. I had a let Dean this morning; he sent you his love and he is o please eve very nice, of not doing something,”’ she that had I’m ve ry tired she was regretting the breach ter from doing very well.” Sally shook her head. ‘I can’t forget Rex. He isn’t the sort that lets himself be forgotten. Mummy, what got into me five years ago? ‘I don’t know, dear; I tried to find out, but your heart seemed to just lock itself up and we were strangers.” Sally came and laid her head on her mother’s shoulder. ““Do you think Rex will ever marry me? disconsolate child. she Was like a

ILLUSTRATED BY HENRY bewildered these To her horrified surprise Densie felt a impatience as John used to feel when “woman” things strayed jpto his path. wanted to take her hat an@go downtown! “‘T don’t know,” she repeated; ‘I have hardly seen Rex, and I have steeled myself to indifference.””. Vaguely she patted Sally’s hair. “‘Why don't you go away—go visit Harriet? She might be good for you at this time. Harriet has the poise and power you need, and she needs your with her a few weeks and find some of Like John she sweetness and gayety. yourself.” It seemed to Densie this was the best way out of the Yet underneath the coating of ice flowed the swift only she had kept the ice as a Stay matter. warm current of her heart shield against any further assaults! I do need someone. Would you mind There’s the moving ss said Densie “T shan’t do any work about the movy- } “Perhaps I will if I went now, mummy? “Go to-night,” as unconcerned as John n ight have been. ing. It is being done for me.” Sally hesitated still further. “‘Of course, I haven’t been doing much work lately—not so much as I ought to have done, and ag “Is it money?” Densie smiled. She had learned that money was the easiest thing in the world both to earn and to give, She and wrote a check. “Now, run and get your and don’t come home until you have found how wrong it is to waste yourself on a man to her desk ticket went along who neither wants nor deserves you.” The sensible advice might have been snapped out by a bank president to his erring cashier. They seemed foreign words coming from Densie’s small, gentle self. Inspired by the idea, Sally obeyed, and after a little more of things Densie went down to the decorator’s establishment. Before Sally left for New York—she did not go for three days because she could not resist telling Rex that it was to be a farewell and then accepting his good-by dinner—the flat had been rented and the decorators were busy at the new apartment. It was known as Mrs. Densie Plummer’s apartment, which John noted in grim but helpless dis- approval. Iris noted it and took to impress on him his extreme manliness and her dependency. While Sally was away the Plummers moved into the smart, expensive apartment—one of the best in the city, and renting for a hundred a month. It consisted of a living room in old rose and gray with French prints and silvered firedogs and floor cushions of black velvet. It was not at all homelike but distinctly clever. There was no denying sorting out Starr also pains extreme RALEIGH

om } ‘

‘We are Boy and Girt, Fifty:Four and Forty-Bight, Finished With Noonday and Watching the Sunset Together!"’ that. A baby grand playe r re placed the old ebonized upright, and Densie’s desk, a curlicue-legged, rose- wood affair, was the busiest-looking spot in the room, heaped with correspondence and all manner of memoranda, while a rose-shaded lamp The only live thing in the room was reading stood ( lose at hand a globe of goldfish, oO Kenneth mournfully remarked The bedrooms were equally clever—Sally’s in pink, and John’s and Kenneth’s in severe arts-and-crafts, wh Densie’s blossomed forth in French blue and gold with Empire furniture finished in dull ivory. The arrangements ithered the kite during the brief respi as nha henette and te of coffee , ly rolled janitor’s wife doing the dishes for breakfast allowed to come forth or and over stray were mt In

toast-making, and a vacuum cleaner crumbs, the Nor did Densie’s moving end with a change of house and furnishings. Smart wearing apparel her next step in advance. She saw that a president of the federation and suffrage leader she must be properly gowned. As owner of Dut that

the exchange a q would no longer do pari th her mother’ ing, fell behind in con

wardrobe on Wi

Trim rows of boots and lipper stocking ind underwear, very short and fluffy gowr hats with French labe ls, and a good brooch ind a tring of white oral, with the constant aid of curling rons and Madame Somebody’s astringent cream and vanishing powder soon transformed John Plumm« fe into Mr Densie Plummer, one of our most prominent clubwomen, as tl papers graciously began to call her When Kenneth came into the apartment fron Kating one day after the removal, and saw | mother dressed for some evening affair, in a Chinese blue-satin creation wit l petunia-colored cape for contrast and gold-tinss pper the pretty brown hair prope T 1 he A ul cured hands buttoning long white 4 es, he fe nto a chair and let | kates drop reckle n the ne e rug “All you need a new husband,” he said in irreverer praise. At which Densie Jaughed and thought with a quick pat that the leaven had been » ng, but the lu he She kissed him good-t i lor dinner, leaving a memorandum f John that she ! not be home until late 4 ew about to turn off the lights of the moderr lon she iw her charming retle n in a mirror and felt the goodness of having ‘ OSt al undergarments, a proper modern I , the strange of having earned it herself he began to feel young, as young as John Plummer felt when I arr called him her misunderstood ! ind far vunge than Sally, Who wa trying to find herself th the aid of Harriet’s statistical self **A new husband” e laughed out loud as she passed down the hall W! ( ! ( f to-day have! Then she ‘ ed t disn as he wel yut ol the ga | he evening

Page 24

22 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST iffair is one of importance and she expected to accom- lish a great deal more t was suspected for the time ng. Densie was the politician of the family these days! XXII CVALLY t twenty-five, dispirited and sad of heart, and Harriet at twenty-seven, successful and impersonal 1 all mankind vere a strange contrast Sally ed f d eeing Harriet; she hoped the latter’s ens 1 1 help her through the period of ng from giving up Rex. Like most of her n search of a crutch upon which t i 4 t ! of a bad situation. She did not yet realize that er people cannot act as crutches in serious matters, and he ild have to stand on her ! mall feet and | ! ‘ j ted | meone ra li or Harri as kind to ill , ( ri how to be. She had ed apart from love affair it to go to her for the is like asking her to decide re ad al y of the south of (hina’s compelling the north of ( hina to become a repub and have all their males’ cus ul Tinstanter! It was interesting d different, and she took an npersonal plea ure in hearing ally imbled little story Leila Cochrane had been s only human element | Leila, who was nothing but nane clinging vine “with a il blue amile,” as Sally told her mother, had never had an rinal idea in her life Sally id also deseribed the situation Harriet foots the bills and Leila do as she like Harriet Leila mends her stocking in_d makes nice cinnamon toast that is as far as their attrac goes And Leila pretend to understand all Harriet’s big leas and to copy her in her thes but underneath it all he a little freckle-faced fraud!"" Needless to say, Leila ind Sally did not grow fond of ich other, hence Sally’s uncom pliomentary but truthfulanaly Sally found Harriet had a enh { vray in her bla } hair, premature gray from exet ve tudy and lack of nourishment he wore an attractive ort of clothes, the exclusive, evere, imple ort made “for people vno appreciate the satires of Horace wa ally’s wa ol ae r ng her siste wardrot To Sally surprise her ister owned a showy little 1 zreat fire opal se Harriet’ ell in spite of her Vanity was asserting “THlow did youcome to buy ; illy demanded Itarriet almost blushed Extra money | earned from “I'm Sure I Don't committee wort it appealed to me. I don’t know wl . Sally shook her finger at her. “You will be frivolous in apite of yourself; I remember when you wouldn't have worn a gold safety pin ‘We change you've changed. You're not as gay and allov omething has happened to your eye Let me ee,’ Harriet studied her ter’s face for a long time. then all she 1d wa i brutal They look stabbed.” Saily’s chin quivered. “‘I want to tell you all about it: mummy o busy and different | can’t tell her as I would Tell me after supper.” Harriet frowned. She had not learned to give of herself l On it some incident or happening or re ilt of a hap- t ng was interesting; she mmediately analyzed it and 1 te deduction as to its effect’s being good or id. But to be a sympathizing, consoling element was not within her possibilities. However, Sally was her sister and it was her duty, so she steeled herself for the ordeal. Harriet and Leila had an attractive apartment in its way, strewn with articles of good taste and quality. Har- riet had decidedly patrician ideas as to her surroundings. She spent: her large salary as fast as she earned it, and out of all her earnings she had saved but a paltry five hundred dollars. She paid more for her clothes than Sally did. Lars aa Sally would go to a remnant sale, select odds and ends, clean, repaint even, or twist and turn—and lo, she had a creation. Harriet could not wield a needle, her fingers were always clasped about a book or a pen, and she bought lavishly of what she wished and took no heed for the morrow. She knew she had unusual ability in the direction of her work and her advancement would be steady. Saving was something that had never interested her. After a formal supper, with Leila doing the dishes and trying to catch a whisper as she passed in and out, Harriet and Sally sat down to talk, Harriet like a judge impartially awaiting the evidence! It did not take Sally long to tell Harriet--one of Harriet’s charms was her keen way of grasping a situation; it was like Aunt Sally. March 15,1919 little voice. Or else you could have been quite impossible what we call a ‘borderland’ girl, lacking in moral percep- tions.”’ She spoke so calmly that Sally felt as a butterfly on a pin, having some scientist clumsily point out the spots on the wings. She did not answer. “I’m sure I don’t know what to say—I’m not up on romance. It seems to me you are to blame and you ought to buck up and never see or think of him any more.” “That would be easy for you to do,” ventured Sally, quite discouraged. “Why marry, anyway? An inane maze in which you have an awful time wandering about!” “Because it was what I was meant for,’ said little Sally simply. “I had my foolish ideas when I was twenty, but I know myself now “9 She was thinking of Dean Laddbarry and the time he asked her to marry him; not that she loved him, but she wished she had never known this sinister fascinating Rex. Perhaps she might have cared for Dean instead, and everyone been happy. She saw that Harriet could not understand, just as Sally could not under- stand why Harriet wanted to write an economic history of the United States. “Anyway, Sally, you ought to do something—you must not be dependent on father.” Sally laughed. “‘My dear Harriet, father and mother are changing places. “‘Mummy is the man of the family; she tends to paying the bills and father spends his money on himself.” “That’s an inducement to come home,’’ Harriet said crisply. “We've aswagger apartment, and mummy has ordered enough clothes to go round the world in.” Harriet folded her arms across her chest in an approving ju- dicial manner. “Good work! So poor old father goes his own way, eh?” “He is rather gone on Iris Starr. An amusing person—we call her mutton dressed as spring lamb; she isan elocutionist who would like to marry father only father shies at a divorce.” The two modern daughters giggled wickedly over the situa- tion. “Won't mummy say the word release?”’ “I thinkso; itisfather. After all, they’re of the old régime. They can go just so far and that is all—but mummy has come on considerably.” “Why not a divorce?” Know What to Say —I'm Not Up on Romance. It Seems to Me You are to Biame and You Ought to Buck Up and Never See or Think of Him Any More" Brietly Sally confessed the whole wretched affair, ending with the craving for a home and children, to be like other girls, stretching out her small fingers, the diamond ring sparkling away in triumph. “*He is too old for you,” began Harriet shrewdly. At which Sally interrupted to say that she did not care about age, she loved him, he made her love him, but he had stolen her girlhood and caused her to become old before her time. No boy would ever love her now, nor could she love any boy. “And you don’t think you've enough talent to come to New York as an artist?" Harriet asked unwillingly, think- ng that if Sally should come it would be her—Harriet’s luty to say to Leila that her sister must be her comrade instead of Leila. This Harriet did not want to do. Sally shook her head. “I’ve lost my chance at ever working. I've wasted my time trying to tempt and please Rex. He's a way of making you stay concert pitch when he is about. I can’t do anything but love someone, Harriet.” Harriet frowned. “You are weak.’ She looked at her sister with char- acteristic disapproval. “If your environment had been different you could have been a model Victorian wife—like mummy; all bows and ruffles, and singing hymns in a meek “Harriet, it wouldn’t seem right.” Sally was undecided as to just why it would not. **Nonsense! Everyone would be better off. I believe in marriage contracts.” “How far we’ve gotten from the old ways of the Little House,” said Sally pensively. “It is an odd thing, but whenever I’ve been unhappy about Rex I’ve always thought back to those days. Do you remember the library with hundreds of books no one read, the piano, the picture—that little one of the Christ Child that we had to stand underneath while we said our Bible verses every Sunday morning?” “No, I don’t.” Harriet was beginning to be bored. Was Sally going to develop a sentimental strain? Sally saw her chauge in attitude. She rose, saying, “Poor Leila has been scullery maid all alone.” “I hope you find plenty to do and see here—and just don’t think of him is the best advice I know,” Harriet added. “If you can’t paint good pictures, learn to trim hats or do something so as to make a living and be independent. By the way, how is young Ken?” “Smokes openly, and still plans to be Captain Jinks of the Horse Marines— Ken is a side issue nowadays with the folks.” (Continued on Page 24)

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4 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Continued from Page 22) ‘Don't think about him” ended any counsel and advice f ' Harriet She had a scorn for Sally’ weakness in the ter, because she could not understand it. She took her ently to the theater and dinner, with Leila tagging slong he tried to interest her in her work ntroduced her to me coworkers. But Sally was too it them or be suited by them. the intense longing for Rex, the fear that | be angry at her for having gone away and saying d not write, the same servile adoration for him: neither healthy nor normal. That fear of all en born to love and be loved had gripped hea the fear of becoming an old maid! An ed or, worse still, a rejected spinster! She fought e phantom nightly when she tried to sleep in Harriet’s After all, finally argued Sally with her usual sophistry, better to have Kex’s love cruelly repressed and ' ple as it was, than to have nothing, as Harriet’s e seemed to de flat and devoid of interest? Everyone ipled their names together; no one else dreamed of Plummer's looking at another man nor could she here was only Rex, no matter how much older he was how lacking in fulfilling his obligations. At least everyone thought she was engaged—she could say it was or that which prevented marriage, and try, try irder than ever to make Rex want to marry her, and it the same time try to find some satisfying work. So the old strand of deceit, for which Rex was sponsor, ume unworthily to her rescue he wrote Rex a contrite and appealing letter th a few smart sayings purporting to be original but h she had copied from a short story. Rex liked He despised the old homely method of bromidic conversation such as “I love you”’ It must be dished up d la brochette her to say clever things r ‘I miss you iit his jaded humor lo her great joy Rex wired he was coming to New York on busine ind he was making the business en- gement suit her visit there; he would arrive the next rning. She told Harriet with as much gladness as if were going to be married. The effect of the old nulus was surprising. Harriet’s thin scarlet mouth edu rt You are as weak asa child! It is just as well you don’t irry and have children, for you could not give them proper mental or moral inheritance. I believe you mmned thi isit all along Now didn't you ‘ts \W } o angered Sally that she carcely spoke to Harriet during the remainder of her stay. Rex arrived cle nair and attentive as ever He said New York ed Sally he needed a city with its beautiful women prove how wonderful she wa He met Harriet with over] ering politene and veiled contempt Harriet egvarded |} as “‘a strong character— no wonder a jelly { like Sally can’t have her way with him.”” That ended Harriet affair. In her quiet fashion Leila ( " yusly of Sally that she was a lucky b " uch a generous handsome man of the dd if ul -been engaged a long time and vt ely to continue in the same state, and cafés and had a general good tir et did not offer to participate. il ‘ anything except Ibsen or an i ! y cert After a week of riotous ne ‘ went home ahead of Rex, knowing that she had defeated the very purpose of the vacation her mother d given her - that she was even more dependent on Rex hefore Densit aw the trutl f this at once—she had heard Rex Humbe ne had gone to New York. Whereas a few ears agi w would have packed her bag and followed argue with Sally, now she only smiled bitterly and reminded herself that modern children permit no inter- rence in their affairs; one must let them alone and watch them grapple unaided with the brambles. “Oh, so Rex came, did he?" was all she said. Yes, he had busine ind I wanted him,” Sally told her honestly. ‘‘ How lovely this room is, mummy, and what harming negligée. You seem a girl in it. How in the rid did you hit on this scheme — doesn’t daddy approve?” lle is fairly comfortable. Tell me about Harriet.” ‘S} oming up to see you. She thinks you’re a won- Sally was watching her mother discreetly powder ‘You have been suc- nose and slip on some rings essful, haven't you?” A little. There is a letter from Dean. He sent you rie spe ” : Densie pointed out the envelope. Underneath the ice coating the warm current of her mother heart was fairly rushing out to Sally! Sally picked it up unwillingly; she dreaded reading the frank, earnest sentences. She was beginning to shrink from contrasts. ‘Odd that he writes to you, isn’t it?” “I'm next best to Sally, is Dean's logic. Here is my gown for the luncheon—like it? Help me fasten the side.” Densie had slipped on something that was like a gray cloud with sunset showing underneath. Obediently Sally laid the letter aside and hooked the frock. **It is lovely,”” was all she said. Densie found her outer wraps. “I shan’t be in all afternoon—and I’m having my committee on the penny- luncheon fund in for coffee this evening. Your father will not be at home.”’ She smiled faintly. “I’ve a theater ticket for Kenneth. If you would like to help serve I'll be glad to have you.” She spoke easily, as if it mattered very little whether or not Sally stayed. ‘I think I’ll go to my room, mummy; I'm tired.” “All right—as you wish. Now I’m off.’’ She took up her silver purse. ‘“‘So you've not decided anything new as to Rex,” she could not keep from adding. “Sally, you've the lines about your eyes that be long to my age 999 ‘I’ve decided to make the best of it. I'd rather be Rex Was No Longer the Adoring Cavalier Rejoicing in JSatly's Youth and Beauty unhappy loving Rex than be unhappy not loving him and he has his good qualities. I can’t seem to say what they are, but he has. It's a modern sort of arrangement; perhaps it isn’t so wicked, after all. Anyway, I cannot give him up—and I tried.” “For three weeks,’’ Densie supplemented. “I tried!”’ Sally cried out shrilly. “It is just my form of a cross, perhaps, to love the wrong man; and I won't hear another word about it.” “Very well.’”” Densie was the impersonal, successful business and club woman. It was she who closed a door in one’s face. ‘As for your expenses, I'll pay them until you decide what you want to do. But you shall not be a slug, even if you do love the wrong man.” “I'll earn my living!”’ her child told her, white with anger—not at her mother, though it seemed so, but at her own wayward self. ‘I'll earn it by doing something that won’t disgrace Mrs. Densie Plummer, president of the state federation!” Left to herself Sally did read Dean's jolly whole-souled letter breathing of activity and success and ending with “Tell Sally I’ve no other girl’s picture in my watch, but when she decides the date of her wedding I'll send her the best set of baskets the Washoe tribe can make. I won't promise to take the picture out of my watch—unless she says I must. She’s a good-hearted little tyrant and will allow me that much even if I did lose the original!” She crumpled up the letter, wishing she had not read it. She hated herself—the new artificial way of living; the apartment seemed stuffy and inadequate. She felt if she were a little girl in proper white aprons over tartan- plaid wool frocks, saying her Bible verses underneath the picture of the Child, if she could turn back the hourglass until then—that she would grow up loving Dean. Men like Rex never find the way to Little Houses; their feet choose other trails. Xx URING the next year John and Densie came to the understanding that when Kenneth was twenty-one they would get a divorce so John could marry Iris. Each March 15,1919 felt a reticency to do so beforehand., When the boy was of age their joint responsibility as parents would be ended, according to law. That would be five more years And though John thought of Iris and waxed impatient as he did so, and Densie thought of her own plan to live abroad, each found a certain relief in delaying the evil day. ““When people marry in love and harmony in the sight of God and man, and that harmony disappears,’’ John had argued, “‘the marriage has disappeared, and the legal contract alone remains in the sight of man.” Densie had agreed. She was sitting in the living room waiting for a cab to take her to a meeting. “I appreciate your viewpoint; we are no longer essential to each other or to the children. “Our lives are in different channels. I have no quarrel with you”’—here the undercurrent flowed very swiftly, so much so that it caused a flush to show in her face; “I could never bear to have an ugly, inharmonious ending.” “‘Densie,”’ he said softly, ‘“‘that could never be. I shall always respect you—always. You are the children’s mother. And you were my little sister before you were my wife. I could never think of you with anything but the same love I had for you when we were children. I don’t understand how it has all come about; I truly wish it had not. But I am no longer the man for you “ “Which always means ‘I am not the woman for you!’ Well, perhaps it is better as it is. I could never return to the old drudgery of a home. You were im- patient with it long before I was. And so we have outlived our usefulness to each other.” “You have been generous about expenses,”’ he said almost shamedly. *‘And so I should be. I wished for certain things clothes, furniture, club positions; I made my own money my own way, and you never questioned my right todoso. I could not think of asking you to bear my expenses from now on. Use y you.” ““Mighty decent,”” he mumbled, the old method of one purse in the household occurring to him for some damnable reason. ‘‘What do you think will become of our children? We shall always have that common interest.” “Harriet will never marry. She is not the problem. It is Sally who has given her heart to a worthless man. our salary as it pleases Unless she reclaims it she is doomed.” “And Kenneth?” he asked. “I’ve never grown close enough to him to read the handwriting on the wall.” “I want Kenneth to be in the Army,” she said proudly. ‘He must make up for his sisters’ lacks.” “Captain Jinks—is that the idea?”’ The bell rang and John answered. “Tt is your cab,” he said politely. “Oh, thank you.” She put on her coat. ‘“‘Have you ever thought,” he asked gently, “what Aunt Sally and Uncle Herbert would say if they had been here just now as eavesdroppers?”’ Densie’s face dimpled. “‘I know what they would do the old remedy they used when you copied Barney's swearing and I contradicted Ellen Porch—a good mouth wash of quinine!” John chuckled. ‘About right,” he answered, opening the door politely. After she had gone, never asking as to his plans, he sat for a long time and wondered whether people these days were bigger fools than they looked or looked bigger fools than they were! Iris was enraged over the delay, but too clever to be anything but purportedly shy and grieved about it and to make John regard her as a sprite which would vanish if anything was said or done to hurt her feelings. Besides, John could lend her money—particularly now that his wife had agreed to free him after Kenneth was of age. And money was Mrs. Starr’s large idea of happiness. After a few pensive tears and sighs upon hearing the news, and the mournfully counting off the years, she borrowed another hundred and made John a club sandwich while they talked about their future like two eloping school children. At the club meeting that evening Densie read two brief but cleveralittle papers. One was called The Passing of the Woodshed and the Fence, a slightly satirical skit on changing conditions with a sting of truthful reproach in it. The other she named Cabin Fever, after the West- erners’ method of expressing mental malady resulting from continued isolation. Housewives, she explained, all had spells of cabin fever; clubs were an antidote; the women of America had long been a prey to cabin fever; and she ended with an appeal for women to step outside their thresholds and become attuned with the present genera- tion. At the conclusion of the meeting someone touched her on the arm. “Senator James Gleason wishes to meet you. He was our honor guest to-night, but he came late and you did not notice him.” (Continued on Page 26)

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i‘? (Centinued from Page 24) Densie crossed the room to the small boyish-looking an in immaculate evening dress. He had wavy white hair, combed pompadour fashion, and dark eyes with a Altogether he was a refined little person, He held out his een expression 3 too big for his body nd cordially as she came near ‘I want to tell you , rr is well,” he begar mply; that cabin fever happens to sena- “but I think you ought cures for i: don’t you?” He just natur lly led the way to an isolated corner; ame President and the senator the others have another paper His keen eyes kept studying her face. She liked him he had a gentle, firm voice and his movements indicated i He made her feel at ease instantly and the only thing that puzzled her was how with his endowment of qualities and his rather visionary ideas he had ever foug} t } way up U politic S She had heard of him before a philanthropic reforms, and she recalled a rumor that he was a very rich widower. As he talked she began to feel he found herself telling him ved during her presidency. being interested in women’s clubs and a direct interest in him, and informal ideas that she had ev« “You own the Woman’s Exchange, don’t you?” he asked; ‘“‘where one can buy homemade things?” “Yes, but I have it I haven't the time. The homemade things are the work of cabin-fever victims!” “I'm going to lunch there to-morrow,” he continued eagerly ou couldn't manage to drop in at the exchange toward one o'clock? I want to talk to you about some matters— first, business matters; and then I'd sanaged for me “I wonder if y » like to talk to you va his would have sounded rather impudent in anyone else. Densie did not realize its personal significance. She merely thought him a friendly little man, who had great nfluence with the President, so eve ryone said, ‘I can try,” she promised “Then we'll see each other there. Good night, Mrs Densie Plummer— you've a homemade name too!” Bowing gracefully the great-little man left her. Densie could not think of anyone else the rest of the She wondered what he wanted to talk to her evening ibout at luncheon XXIV Sept eg: world opened for Densie after her luncheon £ at the exchange At first it bewildered her, for there vas still the old reticence about meeting some tranger without her husband by her side. She had not known how very different men can be when he had been married, and a mother a twenty! She had heard of other men only through Life was In that re ad long since considered herse If ar John's lips or seen them with his eye ended for her as regarded romance aspect Densie } Che pl asure that busine ss and social old woman success had given her had been large ly a solitary sort of contentment at substituting something el for the duties that her family considered obsol The enator had been at the exchange ahead of time, and when Densie ca n dressed in her gray gown he smiled in approval and said some pret easy thing, which both confused and lelighted her Densie had had a idea of telling John about the iny tation and including him in it. But she reconsidered that. John ha been brutally frank concerning It Starr — why should she refuse a diy matic invitation to meet a man of ational importance? She did not ell either of the children—Sally wa too preoccupied with her own tangle and she felt that K th would lave wanted to come along. **You don’t know how ue od it was o hear you say those quaint thing ast night,’ the senator began as they at down at their table The manager of the exchange, re ering from cabin fever, thanks to ensie, smiled approvingly as she wked at them They were a well matched couple the senator’ woyish figure, his white hair, his i maculate suit, and yood-appearing self Densie’s trig in gray tulle I was almost afraid to say what thought,” she admitted. “It is the first time I have ever Why did you like it?” strayed into original lines. “Because it was sincere. And if a person is sincere everything about her—her life, her associates, her achieve- That was why I I’ve been tremendously interested in club work for years, and theoretically | am heart and soul with the movement. I sce the tice and need for it. ments-—-must of necessity be the same wanted to know you I'm Down ond Out, I've Lost Everything I Have" THE SATURDAY EVENING POST But when I descend from the clouds of theories and walk on earth and really see things as they are done I lose my ideals—for I find very few sincere persons.” “T wonder if that is always so!” “You probably do not discern the fact, due to your own worth. I wish you'd tell me of yourself and your family. I like to know about the people I like. “Perhaps I ought first to tell you of myself,”” he added, “for if you have read all that is printed about me you have a strangely wrong idea.” He briefly outlined his life man with independent means, thus saved with the world to gain from s only by cheating or He described hi chool life, his trips abroad; he mentioned his ideal mar- riage with a sentiment pleasing to Densie, for it was as Uncle Herbert would have spoken. He told of his entrance into pol tices; the help } wife had been; the grief at the loss of their only chil’, a daushtecr; his wife’s death a year later; the resolve always to help women in whatsoever a dreamer, yet endowed with common sense; a from the necessity of grappling it bare necessiti« and to win luxurié cleverly laid and not too ethical plan manner he could, because of her blessed memory. As Densie listened she felt she knew him as she knew Dean Laddbarry. He seemed to her old-fashioned yet strangely new-fashioned; to have combined the virtues of both the eras and discarded the vices of each. She must have shown her admiration, for he paused to say: “‘Quite enough about myself. Your turn, please.’ Densie faltered. ‘‘There is so little to tell—a middle- aged woman with a grown-up family. I own the exchange. I am president of the federation. When I married I never dreamed this would beso; circumstances brought it about.”’ At which the senator read between her words and ad- mired the modesty which refused to repeat details. All he said was “‘ Your husband is John Plummer; used to be Plummer & Plummer, Warehouse, didn’t it?” a one of the oldest firms, But my husband felt he could not battle alone with new methods. The firm was absorbed by this new corporation. Since then I have known nothing of the business. I could never bear to see the old place torn inside out and painted like a caravan to I do not hint my husband is happy to have it so, either; but he had no choice.”’ “You have a daughter— Harriet,”’ he remarked quickly. “How do you know?” ‘[ remember the young woman. She was investigating attract passers-by. child labor in the canneries, wasn’t I was the chair- man of the committee that he | her report. li dark eyes twinkled with amusement, and Densie found herself laughing. She would do it—I was itterly shocked at the time. But she assured me it was part of her mission in life. I was taking my family seri- ously at that tim Now I : am a mere spectator and I can see the humorous lining to all the serious clouds “Excellent! We all need These ne bag of ” your spectacles. youngsters play a fi tricks on us. I have never been able to forget her—a clever girl but a trifle in- human. I think she would like the world to run ona time clock, an institutional system for families. I war- rant she never quilted a bedspread.” Densie shook her head. “No; and my other girl never did anything but be a pretty, sentimental Her voice grave ned. “‘T must know said goose. And have you any sons?” “One.” Her face lighted with pride. ‘‘ He is my great comfort. Ken and I have weathered the changing of fashions together, neither of us finding tke other impossible in so doing. Daughters do find you im- possible, you know—if your bon- nets are not correct or you want to chaperon them!” “How old are you, Densie Plummer?” he demanded. You've never lost ” goose, “Just now you seem twenty-one. youth, have you?” “Why, I’m positively ancient!’’ Densie was amused at the reticence she found herself experiencing, now that her age was demanded. “Fifty,”’ said the senator brutally so there!” “I'm fifty-four March 15,1919 Densie pouted; she did it quite as well as Sally might have done. “I’ve two more years before I reach the great divide forty-eight.” “Isn't it splendid to be done with middle age?”’ he de manded boyishly. ‘‘ Youth and old age are really the only times in the world. Middle age finds you taking yourself and everyone connected with you with utmost seriousness. You are bent on reforming the universe, achieving the height of perfection. You scold the young, pity the aged; you are narrow, orthodox in your conceit. Romance has no place in your scheme of things—that belongs to youth; youth and senile old chaps,’’ he chuckled mischievously. “But after you blossom into Indian summer you learn that the sunset is more glowing and beautiful than the sunrise. Who can really enjoy life in a glaring noonday? I’m glad to be fifty-four; from now on | expect to be the gladdest, most sentimental old idiot who ever ate Densie Plummer’s brown bread.” He saluted her across the table. “Do say some more—it is just like a play!” she ap- plauded. “T’m beginning to recall the things of youth—now that the awful stress and battle of noonday are done! Why, I shouldn’t be surprised if I just naturally hunted up my guitar and went serenading! My white hair excuses me anything, you see; and I’ve done some things in Washing- ton that make the people call me their friend—and so I could go a long way before I was censored. Do enjoy sun- set, Densie Plummer. You've a tired look in your eyes that tells me the noonday must have been quite glaring and unromantic!” At which he deftly changed the subject so as not to em- barrass her. Before he left the exchange, loaded with pur- ases which he declared were just the sort of thing for which he had been looking, he asked Densie if she would care to be one of a national committee to inspect certair institutions. It paid a stipend, he explained—Densi thought it a generous wage—and she would have to travel She said she hardly felt fitted for the post, at which he assured her that she was more fitted than any of the pres- ent committee, since she had the intuition of a homemaker and could spy out defects which no set of well-written reports could hide. ( XXV HE senator left town the next day, but he sent Densie a farewell note renewing his promise to come to her tea- room and that he would see she was appointed on the com mittee. And a week later the appointment came. It wa quite impressive to receive the envelope without a stamp o1 it and read in formal terms the fact that she was a national committee woman and her district was such and such a place. She told John the news and asked him if he knew Senator Gleason and what was his opinion of him. “*He’s the idealistic chap, I guess,’ John told her. “I never heard anything but good of him—only if he hadn't a fortune he could never have made his mark. That doesn’t go in politics—I mean ideals. I can remember.” Densie was shocked at herself, for as John brought him- self into the conversation she felt it was distinctly bad taste, and she was not interested in the subject. She also recalled finding several peculiar bills in the old secretary, bills payable to men of questionable occupation and char- acter. But she did not mention it. “We had lunch together at the exchange,” she contin- ued. “I never saw anyone like brown bread any better than he did. It was then he offered me the position. I found him delightful—with a boy’s heart and the mind of a mellowed, wise man. He told me of his wife,”’ she added quickly—she did not know just why. “His heart broke when she died.”’ “Ah,” commented John, “but his appetite stayed in- tact—is that it?” Densie flushed. She was going to ask John if he did not want to reduce his share of expenses still further, now that she had this extra income. She wanted to be fair to him, as fair as an ice-coated river with a deep current of love and loyalty can be. But she refrained. She studied him as he sat uncomfortably in his chair It was not a particularly comfortable chair—but for that matter none of the chairs had been designed for lounging or comfort. John's face had changed; he was too fat to be good-looking—almost sleek. His smooth-shaven face had a wasted, lazy expression;.she could not have told just what designated it, but it was paramount—perhaps it was the absence of any line round his eyes or on his forehead. When he was a young man he had every indication of becoming one of those splendid, lean, elderly men who bespeak muscle and achievement, who have neither spared nor wasted their energies. He would have well-defined lines across his fore- head, telling of battles for the right; his eyes would be slightly crisscrossed, as eyes should be at fifty; and he would be someone whom a portrait painter would take a delight to have as a subject. But the lines were not there. Instead was a discontented expression about his mouth. Novelists always attribute to women these discontented mou‘hs, but men have them (Centinued on Page 48) oe

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UST a Bolt, but up to Cad- illac specifications. Every Bolt and Nut is tested on a thread gauge to make sure that each fits the other prop- erly, and will not work loose, even after years of severe usage. The dimensions of the threads are held to limits as fine as the finest hair No Cadillac part is too small or seemingly insignificant to receive minute accuracy bes CADILLAC x WoaRd oF tHe HERE are many ‘definite reasons for the soothing restfulness of the Cadillac. Not the least of these is the element of physical and mental ease. The Cadillac V-type engine is so free from sound and shock that those 1n the car are actually unmindful of its mechanism. The power impulses, merging one into another, result only in a smooth glide or a swift spurt, depending upon the mood of “the driver. Everything in the Cadillac contributes to make its passengers feel pleasantly remote from mechanical operation. They are freed from any harsh and nerve-racking reminders of machinery—and are conscious only of an exhilarating sense’ of motion. To ride and be unconscious of the power which bears you forward is one of the great joys of Cadillac ownership. This is one of the qualities for which the Cadillac has come to be known as the standard of the world. CA DIL LAC MOTOR, CAI. COMPANY= DETIROIT, MICH

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TTAVUE last of the twe Ive slow rokes that had boomed solemnly from some great clock died lingeringly, and then all sound ceased. In the great council chamber of the palace, curtained heavily from the night, brilliantly luminated from the painted ceiling, reigned so complete a hush that the immobile figures seated in opposing rows down the long table seemed a conclave fixed uncannily for- ever in the moment of their decision. Their last word had been spoken The eves of all were turned to the figure who at, immobile also, in presidence That figure, old and small, in a great gilded chair, stared tonily in front of him as though in some awful trance wherein terrestrial time and space were not. The muscles of its deeply ravaged face were set in an agonized fixity that could not quiver. The pouched eyes were red-rimmed, ellow and bleared; their light guttered out after unnum- The dark mustache, upbrushed in , seemed to have grown in the bered feverish vigils front of the hollow cheek night like that of a dead man; blazing diamond star, the crowned and sceptered order, pon the rich uniform rose not nor fell in any heaving of the breast. Yet was it a living agony that sat enthroned A corp its roots were white. The and motionle e would have been less terrible Thus they sat—the long rows of brilliant uniforms, en here and there by the black garb of civilians, incon gruous and funereal in their contrast with the arrogant eries of power and yet striking the dominant note in this mute assemblage in a hush that had become timeless Ihe lence was the more impressive in that it had followed upon a hideous uproar from that unseen night beyond the curtain Argument and counter argument had been suddenly paralyzed by a tumult of angry human voices, Their accent was unmistakable. In that long room pale faces had blanched yet paler. Out there in the night a nation was flocking together, maddened in the despair of its betrayal. The fierce cries grew louder, nearer. The An anxious whisper had passed along the table even as a general rose quietly rash of glass was a violent emphasis from his seat and left the room \ few more minutes and then the shattering detonations of rifle volleys shook the windows. The human voices shrieked in a bloodcurdling screech, manifold repeated, that overpowered the clamor of wild yells and angry shouts. The merciless detonations followed quickly, endlessly upon one another had died away, after fitful spasms of renewal, into an unbroken silence. The conference had been resumed, but in brief words. Curt opinions, collected in succession, unanimous like a reiterated dirge, had ceased with the booming of the mid- night hour. The moment was pregnant with fate on the stroke of its fulfillment. They sat awaiting it like person- ages in some inexorable Greek tragedy arrested at the penultimate strophe. The final antistrophe yet remained unuttered. All gazed toward that haggard stony figure enthroned in the gilded chair. shrieked again in answer The surge of voices had at last receded 8 THE SATURDAY EVENING ¥Y FE. Britten Austin DECORATIONS BY W. S. RICHTER The chamber was as soundless as a tomb. Suddenly an ear-piercing scream rent the night, broke down into an unceasing sobbing wail that, despite the heavy curtains, filled the silent room. In the absence of all other sounds it came charged with an immense significance, that voice of heartbroken womanhood wailing for her dead. Figures along the table stirred restlessly. That in the gilded chair turned its dreadful eyes toward an officer standing rigid by the curtained door. “Silence that woman!” it said, in a voice that Dante would have recognized. The officer saluted stiffly, with a click of spurs. “Zu Befehl, Majestét!”’ he answered, and went out. The council waited. For a little longer that agonized wail rose and fell, compelling a fascinated attention—and then it hushed abruptly. The figure in the gilded chair looked slowly toward a long-faced, long-nosed man in early middle age who sat at his right hand. For a moment two haggard, accusatory glances met in an agony of mutual recrimination—and then the younger turned away his head. Old men at that table shuddered. By contrast the senior’s face was human and kindly. From the other looked out the devil who has lost. The figure in the chair rose, one arm stiff against his side. ** Meine Herren,”” he said, “you can prepare the docu- ment.”’ He made a gesture which declined all escort, went heavily to a small curtained door, and passed through it to a room beyond. A gorgeously liveried Kammerdiener, the only figure in this private apartment, bent suddenly from the waist at his entrance, like an automaton whose spring is touched, into an immobile posture of profound respect. The old man stared at him with glazed eyes, the brain behind them evidently slow to apprehend. Then with an impatient wave of the hand he signaled a dismissal. The attendant vanished like a shadow. He was alone. No sound from the whispering conclave at the other side of the massy curtain penetrated into this sanctum. The stillness was complete. Such a hush as suggests an indefinable presence, an eye that sees all things, filled the room. Petty and shrunken for all his gorgeous uniform this old and ravaged man stood within it. He hesitated upon the threshold, still held in that trancelike fixity of limb and feature which had stirred his councilors to a pitying horror. At last he seemed to wake. One arm rose slowly, fingers griping like claws, into the air above his head; descended in a blind gesture of immense despair, to clutch and hold his brow. The facial muscles on either side of that up- brushed mustache began to quiver. He shuddered; dropped the hand that covered his eyes. His head turned in one long slow stare round the walls of the room, as though his brain were emphasizing that they were not trange to him. An impulse stirred in him, the first of those vital instincts now beginning to revive. He walked straight across to a large mirror upon the wall and contemplated himself in it. Obviously he surrendered to a primary demand of his innermost being. He stood staring at himself, and the eyes of an insane man looked back at him from that lined mask of grayish pallor. A faint satisfaction stole into his face, a satisfaction that mingled with the anguish a rival part of himself immediately emphasized. It was that inti- mate satisfaction of the born histrion, seeing himself in the role. Thus, surely, should look a man who had lost the empery of the world! A second instinct shattered his complacency in a spasm of annoyance. The whitened roots of the carefully dyed mustache, suddenly perceived, startled him like a betrayal of the personality he had so long paraded before his fellow men. For the moment in which he turned away from the mirror he forgot the vast agony of his soul in a bitter little exasperation. He stood once more in the center of the room, irresolute. He felt himself solitary all at once, like a prisoner just shut in his cell. Something in him rebelled violently against this isolation that he had been wont to cherish and that was now curiously terrible to him. His eyes sought the cur- tained door. Should he call? What were they agreeing upon, out there in the silence? He glared at those heavy folds which shut him off as though measuring his power to pluck them aside—to break through more than that mere cloth of velvet which symbolized his seclusion. POST March 15,1919 Was there a chance—a faint little glimmer of a chance— even yet? Should he, even now, stride in among them and with an imperial hand tear to shreds that document which was now shaping itself for the eternal perpetuation of his shame? He made a movement toward the door, an impul- sive movement in which his eyes participated with a sud- den gleam. Then he stopped—stayed by a sense of the inexorable. He had already fought and been vanquished. There was no hope. The only thing possible was being done. If it did not suffice? He shuddered at a sudden little vision of a lonely, terrified emperor, a man he had known, dragged out of a humble house far away in the depths of what had been his empire, and laughingly pistoled by a coarse, jeering peasant. He himself —his thought stopped, his eyes sought the drawer of the great writing table in the middle of the room. No—not yet. He could do nothing meanwhile. Presently they would bring the thing to him for signature. He commenced to pace up and down the room. Presently. Until then he was still an emperor, could—and something stirred in him at the thought—still command. Command what? The response “‘Zu Befehl, Majestdt!"’ echoed in his ears as though uttered by a ghost, though no behest had even shaped itself in his mind. What was there to command? What was there that was not futility? He had commanded, though, only a few moments since. He recognized that ghostly ‘Zu Befehl”’ as an auditional memory of the tone of the officer at the door. He had silenced that woman. He remembered it with a little glow of triumph. What had happened to her? He listened, ears acute to catch any murmur from the outside night. There was no sound. This memory brought back a predecessor. His mind dwelt for an instant on that affrighting angry clamor of the mob his soldiers had so ruthlessly dispersed. Did any of them still lurk round his palace? He tried to fix a flitting mental image of faces set in a vengeful determination, and lost it. He was safe here, though. Who could clamber to this room, high on a lofty first floor? Besides, there were guards at the palace gates. Something within him revolted at these paltry appre- hensions. He was an emperor; an old man, a broken, despairing man—but still an emperor. The mental habits of a lifetin-e asserted themselves. He wouid have no thoughts and feelings not commensurate with the colossal tragedy in which his place was yet the center of the stage. The mummer instinct recalled him to the dignity of unpar- alleled ruin. He reénforced it with conscious thought. He alone, by his own sole will—he remembered a secret coun- cil long ago, the ironic complement of that now sitting in the adjoining room— he alone had plunged the world intoa furnace which had obliterated its ancient society. He vis- ualized his future fame, saw it tinged with an immense pathos. Me had gambled for so much! He flung his head back on shoulders more erect and scowled as though at a posterity that might dare to dispute it. (Continued on Page 30)

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29 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST _ Le eA tT la te ] IRES of long endurance without interrupted running Tires that ensure safety in slippery going and make sure the quick, ea their full eficiency must w t : : ; ey: . , sudden stop in congested trathe- atime scheduie. Such men todav n = than ever are dependent on motor cars a P ° | ] Withoar sued tires 06 car lo -dependable fires that lend an appearance of quality and ubstantial stability los keeping with the car they carry if yee SUCH ESSENTIALS as these, and a fundamental manufacturing, selling 1] : y : i Ay and service policy exceptional in plan and scope, make Fisk Non-skid 1) r “* . a . . . oy Tires a satisfaction in use and an attractive investment value. ress te Re stir FISK Nonsxm TIRES |

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30 THE SATURDAY Her favorite box of candy This diligent little maid, after the fashion of her day, has made a most excellent copy of the cover of her favorite candy-box, Whitman fe gotten Sampler And indeed it is a box not soon to be I dainty without and dainty within, appealing to the artistic eye, charming in the quality and originality of its sweets. You may have it of Whitman's agencies (usually the leading drug Ask for booklet } STEPHEN F. WHITMAN & SON, Inc., Philadelphia, U.S. A | } Maker wi , antane a wit sand Marshma Whip | ] t store) nearly everywhere —— TH Y are strikingly like woven rues In appearance hav a similar soft ness and lustre and warmth to the eve t And thev cost so little—-thev are BH] decidedly not like woven rugs in pric | As for car —they outwear all except the costly grades of woven rugs make But perhay best of all, they se rk easier —no hard weeping, no bye ating, no v rcuum-cle aninyg, 1 ever juired by a Blabon Ruy is a light ne rox n vour house where a rug } what you ve een The George W. Blabon Company kstablished O% years Philadelphia ~ obs important Notice: Floor-coverings made upon a felt paper base are not linoleums. Such felt paper Fe products have a black interior which is easily ¥ detected upon examining the edge of the fabric ema ca EVENING POST (Continued from Page 28) In this mood of exaltation he pulled down a large map from its spring roller high up near the ceiling. It covered a broad expanse of wall. He stood contem- plating it, and as he did so an old memory of gesture asserted itself automatically. He frowned, protruded his lips like a dis- dainful conqueror, twirled up the énds of his mustache with the fingertips of one hand. On that map Germany stretched far along the southern coast of the English Channel, embraced Holland, Belgium, Flanders, and thrust out its western fron- tier far into France. Germany and Austria- Hungary formed one great state that stretched down to the Augean at Saloniki. Its eastern frontier included Riga and the Baltic Provinces of Russia, and swallowed Poland. Right across it, in a great blue diagonal, ran a well-marked irregular line passing from Berlin through Europe to Turkey and then again across Mesopo- tamia to the Persian Gulf. The blue line was the Berlin-Bagdad Railway. The map was the map of 1914. He lost himself in the contemplation of this empire of his dreams. His lips moved. He heard his own voice in an awed murmur, though he had not been conscious of volition. It was like the secret spirit of his ambition speaking to him out of the silence. ‘‘India— India!” it said; and with the sound a vision of the imagination, already so often summoned that it was scarcely to be distinguished from a genuine memory, rose before his gaze. He saw himself upon a gorgeously eaparisoned elephant, surrounded by bar- baric magnificence crowded together under a tropic sun, swarmed round by innumera- ble multitudes who shouted the name of the conqueror. Europe was a small thing, far away, so long his that he almost despised it. Ile was in the very center of the riches of the earth, dominating their source. Here was where the lord of mankind could seat himself appropriately on a throne of solid gold and negligently trickle streams of precious stones through his fingers as a symbol of his all-possession. So would the mummer figure the mighty Alexander of Macedon. The wizened old man standing in front of that map raised his hand sol- | emnly and murmured again: “To the peoples of the earth . . the Emperor. . greeting. There was a mysterious rush and thud behind him. He jerked round, startled to the bottom of his soul—and stood trem- bling in every limb. On the opposing wall another large map had unrolled itself in a quick descent of the heavy batten at the bottom, and hung spread before his eyes. The springs, overstrained perhaps by much and violent use, had suddenly given way, as a picture long hung perilously falls unex- pectedly at the last. But the old man quivered in the pres- ence of the supernatural. That map, with its curve upon curve of concentric lines ever narrowing upon Central Europe, was the nightmare of his uneasy sleep. It was the symbol of that terrible reality too terrible to be grasped as real. It was the answer to the map of 1914. And now it had been brutally dragged open as by an invisible hand—could not be rolled up again. He stared at it like that other Emperor who saw part of the hand that wrote upon the wall Shaking in a panic fear of the uncanny he staggered across to the writing table, groped blindly for support. The hand that felt across its surface found itself fumbling upon a small object. Automatically he lifted it to his eyes. It was that Lusivania medal which he kept always upon his desk as a proud symbol of what had been a de- fiance to the world. He gasped as he recog- nized it. The suggestion of an invircible pgwer about him became a certainiy. The map—then this! The aptness of their con- junction was like a message. He flung the medal from him with such a curse as that with which the damned soul ratifies its doom. Then recoiling he waited in terror for the next manifestation, his palsied hand shaking the table on which it leaned. The room remained silent, undisturbed. On the two opposing walls the displayed maps confronted each other. There was no movement in the folds of the heavy curtain over the door. No sound penetrated. He who had planned the conquest of the world, superbly indifferent to its infinitely multi- plied screams of agony, crouched ready to shriek at a rustle. The minutes passed, and still the silence was unbroken. He waited, expectant of he March 15,1919 knew not what, in a suspense that became intolerable. A wild craving to shout at the top of his voice for help possessed him, and yet a dread—the strongest instinct he owned—of betraying himself as but an or- dinary man held him silent. In the pres- ence of the invisible power which had spoken so directly to his soul he began to plot stratagems to break this solitude with- out humbling himself in the sight of those he scarcely recognized as fellow mortals. He had been good at plotting. It was one of his vanities. He thought of the trick that had driven Russia to mobilize—there were others equally successful. He ban- ished the thought of those that had failed. He must plot again, quickly; must break this hush where he felt the circumambient power had him at its mercy. Project after project flitted through his brain. Ask if the document was ready? No—that undigni- fied contrast with his, he believed, stately exit was impossible. Send for food? But did one eat or drink at such a supreme hour? By an effort he rescued himself from puerilities. If only that woman were still wailing! It would be an act of complete reasonable- ness to send for the officer of his guard to silence her. He listened intently, with a sudden hope. There was no sound. He focused himself on that imagined voice of despair, with an unutterable longing to hear it again. The silence seemed to condemn him. Moved suddenly by an obscure impulse of escape he darted to the window, flung back the curtain and opened the glass door. He gazed out on a complete blackness where there was neither moon nor star. For some moments he remained thus, staring out into the night. Then mysteriously relieved, as though his action had broken a spell, he turned back into the room. A _ chance reflection of himself in the mirror as he passed he avoided with a scared jerk of the head. No longer did he feel shut in with a presence. Opening the window appeared to him like the decisive movement which frees from a dream. But still a sense of the imminence of something hung over him. What was it? He referred it to the im- minence of that irrevocable signature soon to be demanded of him, and found that it was not that. This that threatened was not the definite event which approached as cer- tainly as dawn to the prisoner awaiting execution, as terrible and yet as unimagi- nable in its complete finality. It was some- thing beyond his knowledge, something of which he was, so to speak, within the aura while yet the thing itself was hidden and remote. It was a relief to contemplate the fateful action he would presently be called upon to perform, to adjust himself to that proper pose for it which should preserve his dignity unimpaired. He sat down in his chair at the writing table and struck an attitude he felt to be appropriate—stern and sad, with just a twist up again of the mustache to show that his self-respect was still intact. An air of benevolent renunciation, of a great heart making a great—mein Gott, wie gross! sacrifice for his beloved people—he must get that. He stared at the two opposing maps without seeing them as he composed his countenance to a befitting expression. They were very long at the other side of that curtain! He despaired of maintaining the posture. [e sat facing the door, his back to the window, expectant at each instant of the entry that should bring a world epoch to a close, his one dominating thought to meet it so that men might afterward speak of him, the great protagonist, with an awed respect. As the minutes passed he felt the need of some occupation at which he might be found, some occupation worthy of the solemn moment. He could not sit biting his nails. His eyes roving round the room were held by an inscription he had had written up in letters of gold. The words, that had been the proud affirmation of what he had often felt to be a not alto- gether unequal alliance, blazed down upon him: “Gott mit Uns.” His brain avoided an implication, seized ona hint. “Der f ~ nme Kaiser’’—so had he once been called. Yes—that was the attitude—the pious Emperor! He stretched out his hand for the Bible always ostenta- tiously upon his table, opened it at hazard. So should his awe-struck people find him. He adjusted himself to the attitude of study, pretended to read. His attention Continued on Page 33)

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“Playing Politics on the Edge of Hell’— An editorial in the Montreal Star by A. R. Carman some years ago made histcry in Canada. One effect was an attempt to blow up the house of Lord Athelstan, the proprietor of the Star. MR. A. R. CARMAN is an unusual leader editorial writer, who can write strong and forceful English in good English—a very rare accomplishment. For more than a year he has been a leader editorial writer on THE PHILADELPHIA N PUBLIC MR. WM. H. TAFT former President of the United States, is another //, strong editorial writer on the PUBLIC LEDGER, who | for more than a year has delighted and surprised | | his friends by an unsuspected ability as an | editorial writer. THE PUBLIC LEDGER is more widely quoted than any other American newspaper, and absolutely dominates Metropolitan Philadelphia, with its five million people, by its strength of editorial and news service. 200,000 copies daily (morning and evenjng editions)—an enormous circulation for its extremely high grade—sell purely on its value, using no forcing methods such as premiums, contests, cut rates or free copies. THE PUBLIC LEDGER INDEPENDENCE SQUARE, PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST March 15,1919

. = All Praise the Essex—$1,395 A New Car That Men Have Long Wanted Thousands Ride In It—Will You? \ ana aaa Se Note what all are saying about the Essex. It is the new car announced January 16. In hundreds of cities it has awakened a greater motor car interest than anyone has seen in years. Close to a hundred thousand have ridden in the Essex. Ten times as many have been to see it, counting those who saw it at the New York and Chicago shows.

Advertised by What People Say— test ride. They are not prepared for such easy ti Not by What We Claimed riding qualities over rough cobble-stone streets 4 The qualities in the Essex which appeal and worn-out pavements. The Essex does not | most are those very qualities that are most pitch its passengers about. It remains rigid ie attractive in the light, cheap car and those of and firm and free from rattles and squeaks no 4] the large, costly one. They are comfort, matter how rough the service. & riding ease, endurance, and elegance at a The kssex is demonstrated on the boggy i moderate cost for purchase and operation. hills used to prove climbing ability by high- || Ask any motorist what he thinks about the powered and costly cars. Speed is shown over i Essex. His answer is sure to be more en- the same course that fast cars are demon- NY} thusiastic than anything we have said. We strated. Passengers are told to hold their PAY have te ray red all our claims. We knew how watches on the speedometer to note the quic k- i strongly the Essex would speak for itself. ness of essex acceleration. Every Essex Sales Room Now Buyers Being Placed H Holds Motordom’s Interest On Waiting List k-ssex popularity is not limited to any one Dealers have already booked orders for more city or locality cars than they are scheduled to receive before People instantly admire its beauty midsummer. ; ‘| hey yp ak of the detail and care (ur plan is to keep l-ssex interest sO iia with which it is finished. They high that there wilLalways be more ie note its lines and talk of features : Ai buvers than cars It will mean : they have never seen on any but _ the kind of dominance the Essex t. . costly car Such are their store F S > FX should have. It is doubtful i ah) room or automobile show ob- anyone will be able to get an f servations I:ssex as promptly as he may i Sut their real enthusiasm MOTO RS want it. But by ordering now 3 1

Cn a ae comes when they return from a the delay won't be quite so long. DETROIT USA

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(Continued from Page 30) wandered unfocused over the page. Sud- denly phrase after phrase leaped to the living center of his soul: “My glory wasfreshinme. . . . Unto me men gave ear, and waited, and kept silence at my counsel. I chose out their way, and sat chief, and dwelt as a king in the army —— He fled as though from a voice speaking to him out of the silence, from the only Voice that could speak thus, with this exquisite irony that left no hope of mercy. He turned hurriedly to the next chapter: “But now they that are younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.” His senses swam sickeningly. Was there no escape, no mitigation? His eyes flitted over verse after verse of despair chiseled austerely for eternity, seeking feverishly a sentence from this Voice that spoke as out of the very arcana of existence which should permit him the last poor consolation that he craved. The pitying respect of his people, awed before him for so long—surely that was not denied? “And nowamItheirsong ... byword. They abhor me és He stared at the words, fascinated and afraid. He pushed the book away from him, looked up to that arrogant inscription as though expecting to see it miraculously changed to a reversal of meaning. Behind him he thought he heard a sound. He twisted himself in his chair and looked toward the open window that framed black their night. His hand jumped to the drawer of his writing table. What was it? A com- plete silence reassured him. Nervously, afraid of he knew not what, he turned again to his table. “ Du, Kaiser, hire mich!” His soul seemed to leap out of his bédy at this clearly pronounced, solemn sum- mons. A frightened ejaculation died on his lips as he jerked round toward the window. A tall female figure stood within the room; such a figure as had never before desecrated the guarded propriety of the imperial palace. Gowned in unrelieved black, its dress was torn, draggled and bespattered with mud. The stuff was of threadbare poverty. So much he observed in the frac- tion of a second ere his eyes were held by her face. A sudden horror sickened him as he contemplated that sternly noble coun- tenance. Its ghastly pallor was intensified by a great smear of coagulated blood that had welled from a wound somewhere in the massy, disordered coils of the blond hair. It was a very figure from the tomb. His voice dried in his throat as he gazed at the apparition. Speechless, despairing of a sound, his hand sought the drawer. Yet he was certain that no shot could harm this specter The figure’s hand rose, “Stop, It used tion of it pointed at him, Kaiser! Or you die!”’ and he quaked at the recogni- the contemptuous du of a supe- rior being. Never in his life had such a tone been used to address him. His hand dropped in an obedience he recognized a moment later as portentous. Never before had another will dictated his actions. He cleared his throat with an immense effort. ““Who— who are you?” he asked quaver- ingly. The answer coincided terribly with that already in his scared mind. He recognized the inevitableness of it as it came in one stern word: ** Deutschland!” Prepared for it though he was, he almost fainted. The figure spoke again, mysterious knowledge the question he not been able to “n to utterance “T come to avenge!” The haggard old man slipped out of the c hair onto his knees. ‘Mercy! The eyes in that blazed like flames. “How many million shrieks for mercy, day after day, year after year, have been the echo of your voice when you said the one word—war?”’ He looked up, quick to justify himself in this instant when condemnation stayed for a question—might yet be averted. “TI said it for your glory—I said it that Germany might be great and honored among the nations. I swear that was the motive—I swear it—Herr Gott im Himmel, hire mich!” His voice was strangulated answering with had ghastly white face THE SATURDAY EVENING POST with terror. “Not for my own—but for your glory, Germany!’ “For my glory!”’ the figure repeated the words in bitter scorn. “Listen! I had men- folk. One was a philosopher who taught idealism to young men at college. He was shot in the act of outraging the wife of a Belgian soldier. One was a merchant in a foreign country where he was once re- spected. They shot him as a spy, and he was guilty. One was an artist. insane by the hideousness of the battlefield he killed the enemy surgeon who stayed to tend him—and he was bayoneted. One was a peaceful seaman who held a medal for saving a drowning man. His U-boat was sunk in the vortex of a shipful of women and children that he had torpedoed. One by one they have died in the midst of horrors; far away—in Russia, in Rumania, in Turkey, in France, in Italy, in Africa, upon the ocean; and everywhere they have for their memorial not glory but hatred. And their crimes are yours. But for you they would have lived guiltless.” The old man bowed his head. “I could not know when I decided,” he murmured. “You decided upon the crime that in- cludes all others,”’ said the implacable voice. “You have made us not great and honored among the nations but loat hed and hated in every corner of the world as no people ever was before.” The old man dared a glance up at her and was silent. “One other man I had,” she said. ‘He fought in defense of that Fatherland you had placed in jeopardy. He fought for it because it was his Fatherland—and yet he prayed for its defeat. If you have a con- science you know why. You, or those who are the instruments of your will, put him in prison because he would not make merry at the tidings of slaughtered innocents. You persecuted him because he represented a fragment of conscience yet alive in the Germany you had debauched. To-night, in your palace grounds, your soldiers shot him—shot him while he was in the very act of quelling the anarchy of a maddened people. In him you murdered the soul of that better Germany which the world might have allowed to resume its place among the nations.”” The figure paused for a moment in which its words seemed to echo about the silent room. “Prepare yourself, Kaiser— for I am the avenger!” The old man stared up at the dread phantom which confronted him. Funereal, blood-stained, defiled, sternly vengeful— it was the terrible similitude of the people he had ruined. His crazy brain had no doubt that it was supernatural. Suddenly an inspiration shot through him, the full com- pletion of despair. This was release escape! He rose to his feet with a wild and horrid laugh, flung his valid arm open from his breast. “Strike, then!” no better!” His laugh was like that of an ey who triumphs yet The phantom contemplated him with eyes that penetrated to his soul. He waited, superb in a final pose, glorying that he had found it. This way he cheated the only dishonor he had ever feared. They would find him dead. “Strike!”’ he you!” A terrible smile of unpitying comprehen- sion came into the blanched face of that somber figure. “No! I see your familiar devil looking from your eyes, mocking me. I will not release you. In your impotence is his punishment. You shall still live bound together, you and the devil to whom you opened your soul. Not from me comes death. I have a more certain vengeance!’ He waited, paralyzed with horror unable even to shrink as the figure ad- vanced upon him. Suddenly her hand stretched out and wrenched, one by one, the decorations from his coat. “See! Thus—and thus, the German people dishonors thee as a traitor is dishon- ored. These symbols of valor and virtue that thou hast bestowed upon thyself the German people takes from thee. Now, show thyself to those whose idolatry has been thy sole ambition—stripped and shamed forever!” He stood fixed, powerless to protect him- self. The figure retreated, its face still toward him, a double handful of glittering stars and crosses held close to its breast. It was already within the frame of the window when his body leaped as with a he cried. ‘‘Strike! | spirit cried again. “I implore | Driven | aroma and I ask | materials, skill in making and long aging. PURE MALT VINEGAR PE aMENTED Every drop awakens flavor NOOD vinegar improves food Poor vinegar harms every food. every it touches. That’s why you should make sure of the vinegar you use. Why you should buy bottled vinegar that bears a label stand- ing for purity and excellence. Heinz Vinegars have an Havor that come from the highest class They make foods taste better, and they more than comply with the pure food laws of the whole world. In bottles filled and sealed in the Heinz establishment Pints, quarts and half-gallons, Malt, Cider and White HEINZ Vine ars One of the All Heinz goods sold in Canada are packed in Canada

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EVENING POST demoniac possession. That black despair when the soul would annihilate the universe was thick upon him. Impelled by an over- mastering instinct he flung open the drawer, whipped out a revolver and fired. There was a wild cry. Where the black figure had been was only the window- framed black night, perceived through thinly wreathing smoke. In the council chamber a score of heads jerked up, startled at the detonation. A flunky summoned upon some errand main- tained his mask of impassivity. “Dank sei Gott!” said an eld general solemnly. ‘He has preserved his honor!” In the curtained room the old man looked slowly round in an appalling silence from which the deafening report o of the revolver had driven every hint of sound. His eyes sought the door. Surely someone would rush in? They would think —— He waited. The hangings upon the door re- mained unstirred. No one? Then —— A new terror, a terror of madness swept over him. Hallucination? Had he not fired, after all? Tremblingly he raised the revolver to his eyes. The barrel was clear | of smoke, but as his fingers fumbled over it he felt that it was still warm. He drew a long breath, coughed with the fumes of burned e xplosive. It was no hallucination, he had fired. And yet? He chilled to the bottom of his soul. Was he so utterly abandoned that none would even come to gaze upon his dead body? He tottered against the table, sick with the sheck of realization of this complete contempt. For a moment it obliterated the memory of the awful experience with which he was still quivering. His fellow men— fellow men: he felt that for the first time in his life—had finished with him, cared not whether he lived or died. He visualized averted faces, clear of all concern for him. He felt like one already dead—so long dead that the stream of life sweeps evenly on, the last eddy over him vanished—who is face to face with the impossibility of return. There was no place in this life for him. Then—he lifted the revolver again with a shaking hand, felt the metal of its muzzle against his brow. The finger that closed over the trigger seemed nerveless, scarcely belonging to him, curiously alien. He contemplated the enormous effort of his will required to enforce that one short, fateful pressure, told himself that a spasm would suffice, in a vague hope for an auto- matic contraction of the muscle, continued to hold the weapon laxly. His mind leaped to a picture of the moment after. He saw himself stretched out, waiting for them to find him. His little gush of self-pity was chilled by the memory that they had not come, by a sudden bitter hatred of all those who had fawned on him and could now let his body lie untended. His body—yes! But after that spurt of flame and stunning crash in the instant before his hand relaxed—what would hap- pen to him? He tried to — it, and failed. Black unconsciousness? If only he could be sure of it! He stood irresolute, tortured. If—if it only opened the door to—to something that comprised this life within its vaster scope—something where the soul still wandered, cheated of escape? That woman who had vanished before the crack of his revolver—where was she? She was suddenly vivid to him. He trembled, dread stirring in the depths of his Living or not when she stood in this she was certainly now a spirit of the soul. room, dead. An awful fear swept through him. To meet her—to meet those others! Her words rang in his brain as clearly as though again repeated to it by a ghostly power that could whisper to the center of his soul: they have died in the midst of horrors; far away—in Russia, in Rumania, in Turkey, in France, in Italy, in Africa, upon the ocean; and everywhere they have for their memorial not glory but hatred. And their crimes are yours!” How many millions of them? He shud- dered. How many millions of once-living souls awaited him—victims and execu- tioners? How many millions of them thronged that dark shore, united now, wronged and wrongdoer, in execration and implacable hate of him who was respon- sible? It suddenly seemed to him that the dead who had died through him outnum- bered those still upon this earth, so vast was the host. He shrank in the imagined blast of their hatred, dropped the revolver from his hand. No! he could not face it. And yet—his abandonment now was proof of it—life March 15,1919 here was impossible. Here also was hatred, overw helming hatred. . not great and honored among the nations but loathed and hated in every corner of the world as no people ever was before!” Curse that voice which haunted him, woman's or spirit’s! He could not shut it out from his inner ears; was forced to measure the full implication of its message. He trembled again in a new fear. He had abdicated—left himself powerless among his enemies. That country castle he had dreamed of these last months, what refuge was that? He would be dragged out of it amid the mocking exultation of the starv- ing herd who charged him with their mis- ery, would be handed over. He had a sudden, startling little vision of a French court-martial. His crazed eyes glared round the room, death and life equally impossible to him, in desperation. Then something seemed to open in him, in the innermost recesses of his soul, like the final unfolding of the essential germ of his life. An overpowering impulse welled up from it, flooding him, thrilling every nerve and fiber, filling him with a strange unholy triumph that was somehow not his and that yet mingled with every part of his being. It was as though a secret demon that had hitherto lurked, the concealed director of his life, revealed itself now in its full power, exultant and unashamed. Cheat them! Cheat them all! That people whom he hated-—those vengeful souls who clustered for his coming! Cheat them all—this world and the next! In the full surge of his demoniac exultation he had an obscure sense that he was but fulfilling himself completely to the end. His whole life had been a series of gilded petty cheats, culminating in the monstrous cheat that had bankrupted the world, rounded off now by this last Machiavellian deception which should rob it of its vengeance. He laughed horribly to himself as he strode toward the curtained door. He plucked aside the hangings, stood on the threshold of the council chamber. None remarked him. The members of that council clustered together in little groups round the table, utterly absorbed in a violent and bitter dispute, in which they shouted down each other’s voices. The old man caught a phrase, and a sardonic smile gathered on his haggard face. This was why none had come to ascertain his fate! They were quarreling over the régime which should succeed him. “* Meine Herren!” he said in maliciously quiet remonstrance. The loud voices hushed instantly, star- tled into appalled silence. A score of faces turned toward the door, remained staring. He recognized in their eyes the doubt of his reality, but yet he was puzzled by their horror. He could not see his own ghastly figure, threads hanging from the breast of a uniform that was strangely bare. Thus for a long timeless moment they contemplated each other in that soundless chamber. The old general stirred at last. He advanced toward his master with the solemn correctitude of a soldier on parade for an execution, saluted and said sternly: “ Majestit! the document awaits signa- ture!” The old man inclined his head, the eyes strangely alight in that corpselike face, and advanced unevenly to the table. The mem- bers of the council drew together in a group, watched him, awed and hushed. He picked up the document, scarcely glanced at it, and with an insanely violent gesture tore it in two and flung the pieces at them. “So! meine Herren!” he cried; and they shuddered at the evil exultation of his voice. “T cheat you all! Wait a little for your republic! I am still King and Emperor! I refuse to sign!” Before they could stir out of their paralyzed astonishment the old general had stepped once more to his sovereign. There was a new light in his eyes as he saluted, a new tone in his voice as he spoke. “T congratulate Majesty on his resolve to die with his still-faithful army. We have at least that pride left!” The old man swung round on him and laughed diabolically. “No, general,” he said emphasis, “I leave the army failed to its dishonor.” The general winced and paled as though a whip had lashed his face. A civilian moved out of the group, his face hard, his eyes angry. (Concluded on Page 37) with savage that has

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST The Question i there any- thing that adds quite so much to charm and grace of attire as good- looking, fault- lessly fitting hose ? Sie S/upe HOSIERY kor Men and Women has not only an irresistible quality that appeals to the eye, but a sturdy wearing worth that commends it strongly to one’s common sense. Are you one of the thousands who datly derive immeasurable satisfaction from 7RUE SHAPE or do you buy—yust hosiery? Look fer this trade If your dealer does not have TRUE mark on each pair SHA PE,we will gladly tell you of one who has. TRUE SHAPE HOSIERY COMPANY PHILADELPHIA

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36 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST The Ink That Absorbs Moisture From the Air O YOU buy just ‘‘ink’’— pallid liquids which write a sickly color—which soon corrode your pens—and which, worst of all, dry up in your inkwell quickly, leaving a thick, clotted residue and caked particles on the side of the well? Or do you insist on Stafford’s Commercial Writing Fluid—the ink that absorbs moisture from the air? This peculiar property of Stafford’s Commercial is the reason why it is so slow to evaporate in the inkwell, why it continues to flow smoothly after ordinary inks have become thick and unfit to write with. This is one of the most important discoveries in the history of ink making. It means a real saving for you. There’s another reason for using Stafford’s Commercial. It has a strength of color which inks have lacked since the dye situation became so involved. American color makers have at last solved the problem. For Stafford’s is brilliant blue when you write and turns permanent black in a few hours. Stafford’s Commercial comes in bottles having a special pouring device, the Dripless Pour Regulator, which enables you to fill your inkwell directly from the bottle, without wasting a drop, without soiling a finger. You can stop or start the flow instantly with your finger tip. If you are tired of pale, unsatisfactory, quickly evaporating inks, go to the store where you usually trade and order a bottle of Stafford’s Commercial Writing Fluid for the office—and one for your home, too. It comes in various sizes, from two ounce to one quart bottles. S..S. STAFFORD, Inc., Established 1858, 603-9 Washington St., New York Canadian Factory: 9 Davenport Koad, Toronto Makers of Stafferd’s Inks and Writing Fluid Phasta Liquid Paste Typewriter Ribbons Carbon Papers March 15,1919 — = = EEE A A I At Me

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(Concluded from Page 34) “What does Majestdt then command?” he asked, an undertone of irony perceptible in the obsequious voice. The old man’s eyes met his, conquered. “Motor cars for myself and suite—at once!” T he minister bowed. | ** Majestdt goes “To Holland!” ‘To Holland?” the old man blazed. “‘Have you never heard of the inviola- bility of a neutral nation? Telephone the Dutch Ambassador that I claim the right of asylum. So!” he exulted. ‘I cheat you all—the whole world! Make the best of we we laug! ied. “I leave everything behind me The old ge neral took a long breath. “Ja, Majestéit!” In his voice was an ine xpre ssibly bitter contempt. ‘Even honor!’ The words, in their awful daring, seemed to echo and reécho endlessly —endlessly endlessly. ** Majestdt, the document awaits signa- ture!” The words rang with a strange famil- iarity as he opened his eyes, stared round the small and exclusively military council Sense and Some Service ff peewee is the place where I worked before they told me I'd have to go; I'd climbed along to a pretty fair job no difference though ; They needed me—or the nation did didn’t make no excuse. “Come on,” they said, “‘and we'll show where you'll be of the greatest use.” So they sized me up for a khaki suit and showed me the bunk I drew, And they taught me to hate the German brute, which wasn't so hard to do. it made and they you And they hung a beautiful service flag up here where I worked before ; I’ve just been told that there ain’t no job left open for me no more! 1] wish that I could have seen it wave uv been mighty fine; There’s many a boy who is in his grave whose star was on there with mine. They hung it high on the outer wall, a won- derful thing to see, And because I went when I got my call they sewed on a star for me! -it must I took my chance as the others did, and it wasn’t no holiday ; I have eaten dirt and I’ve slept in mud out where there was hell to pay And they hung up a service flag back here, a beautiful thing, I’ve heard; It was meant to show how loyal they were, how deeply their hearts were stirred! Their cheers were loud when I left the town; I acknowledge that I was thrilled But the war is done and the flag is down, and they tell me my job is filled! I'm sorry their glorious service flag no longer will be displayed ; What a lot of meaning it must uv had for the heroes who got it made! They put a star on the thing for me wasn't that noble, too? At present there doesn’t appear to be much left for a man to do; I've walked the town till my feet are sore; I’m lonely and sick and broke, And I guess my star is a fallen star their service flog was a joke! S. E. Kiser. now and Betsy YHE isn’t a car with a pedigree and she's old— very old indeed ; Her lines are low and her speed is slow, a sort of a “‘has-been”’ steed; I've had her repainted, renickeled too, but she still looks about the same; She runs at times, and her springs are chimes, and Betsy's her Christian name. She sputters and sulks, she kicks and bucks, and she has a consumptive cough; She often backs on the street-car tracks and the cop has to push her off ; She goes like the wind on a long down-grade and coasts like a gull at sea; We're Jack and Jill and we love our hill— but down it must always be. THE SATURDAY gathered at the table. It seemed oddly shrunken—not the same. He shook him- self out of the mists clinging to his con- sciousness. Ah, yes, that endless discussion and dispute which would never finish—he must have dropped into sleep—yes. He shuddered and reached out a shaking hand for the document. A general fixed him with hard gray eyes that reflected no hope for himself or others. “* Majestdt, we have decided,” he said in a grimly determined voice. “It is our last chance. We must crush in the Western Front before the Americans are in force We must stake all upon it. There per- haps, just time.”’ He looked up as his hand reached for the pen. ** And if we fail?” The general permitted himself an elo- quent shrug of the shoulders. He signed the order—sat staring at the far window. “If we fail,” he said suddenly at last, “then somehow— we'll cheat them of their Vv ic tory!” ‘We will at least endeavor to preserve is, our honor, Majestdt,” said the general solemnly. What was that ironic echo in his pro- phetic soul? Nonsense So I search for the roads that are smooth and straight, and I skirt all the hills and dales ; I never roam very far from home, for somehow my courage fails; I live in the clouds when I journey forth, though the clouds are another's dust, But I grip my wheel with a Spartan zeal, and say: “In the Lord I trust!" And often, how often, they've towed me home | at the cost of a five or ten! I'd dream of the day of the one-horse shay, and wish I'd been living then. And oh, the abuse that I've had to bear when we'd block up a road or pass! They'd howl and groan: “Get the cone!”’ But I knew she wanted gas. ether And yet with it all she’s a good old friend, though I know that the day is near When death will steal into each slow and into the running gear; But this do I swear: She shall rust in peace, with no eyes but mine to see ; I’ve suffered much from her friction clutch ; but she’s been a loyal bus to me. W. Dayton Wegefarth. wheel Doughboy Oratory ANY picturesque stories have been brought back to America from the battlefields of France and Belgium about our doughboys. One of the best of them, typical of the boys themselves and of their ability to do the right thing at the right time, was told by Raymond B. Fosdick at the first winter meeting of the Southern Society in New York. Mr. Fosdick has been looking out for the morale of Amer- ican soldiers since the beginning of the war. This is his story: “T was billeted one night in a ruin that had at one time been a dwelling. Great holes gaped in the roof and the walls. With me there were five American dough- boys—a corporal and four privates. They were hard and tough customers, and did not care who knew it. Why, gentlemen, their language would have blistered the skin of Satan himself. “In poking about the ruins they discov- ered a French peasant family cowering in a very small cellar, where they had taken refuge from the retreating Germans. The family was almost starved and we found that the peasant woman’s infant had died a short time before for lack of nourishment. ‘Those tough doughboys drew off to a corner of the ruins, put their heads together, dug down into their pockets, contributed to a general fund, and then disappeared into the night. In the early morning they returned, bearing a barrel ato for which they must have paid a fabulous sum, as well as a large supply of other articles of food and clothing. “In some unexplained manner they had succeeded in obtaining a small white cas- ket; and in the early gray light of a new day the body of the baby was tenderly buried in a grave the boys had dug. As the small mound of earth was heaped above EVENING POST 37 | HOW LONG | WILL YOUR CAR LAST ? | | “The life of an automobile —and its efficiency in day by day service—depends upon correct lubrication. And correct lubri cation is a simple matter of finding the right lubricating oil HE right lubricating oil must be of uniformly | correct viscosity; it must show a high fire | point (the lowest temperature at which the oil will burn); and it must leave a low carbon residue. QUAKER STATE MEDIUM The Certified Oil is analyzed and tested by an expert chemist who certifies to a uniformly correct viscosity, or ‘‘ body,”’ that will prevent friction between moving parts of your engine; to a fire point of not less than 505°, which proves that the oil will not evaporate or ‘““burn up”’ under high engine heat; and to a carbon residue of less than 55/100 of 1% the lowest carbon residue of any oil carrying as high a fire point. The Franklin Automobile Company recom mends the use of Quaker State Medium above all other oils because it stands every test. Write for Booklet ‘‘A”’ telling how to increase the efficiency and lengthen the life of your car PHINNY BROS. CO. OIL CITY, PA. (Makers also of Quaker State Tractor Oil, Quaker State Transmission Oil, Quaker State Cup Grease, Quaker State Graphite Grease, and Quaker State Cold Test Oil). send AKER STA | wy we Say MEepiuM ~ Cleans Closet Bowls Without Scouring By simply following directions and sprinkling a f little Sani-Flush into your closet bow] regularly you can keep it as clean and white as new No scrubbing, no scouring, no dipping out of water is necessary. Incrustations, stains and even rust marks di: appear. Odors are eliminated because by thoroughly cleansing, Sani-Flush does away with their cause If he is unable to supply you 4sk your dealer at once for Sani Flush can postpaid immediately, send us 25¢ (stamps or coin) for a full size THE HYGIENIC PRODUCTS CO. 311 Walnut Ave., Canton, Ohio Canadian Agents: HAROLD F. RITCHIE & CO., Ltd., Toronto ? ‘eal AS a Sees dig) Poa 2%

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38 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST if Ea ria | Lay : i right Di buil fio a me i. But ci ' Thi | lates the pern Ever work Over oe | | Sprinkles theRoad = * - > ad RK IT - SP sabe wach Your Rad re OU have two alternatives in getting a permanent leak repair:— your car up for a costly soldering job—or pour SE-MENT-OL Liquid into the radiator and keep on driving. Both do permanent work—one by ling metal in and over the leak; the other by forming tal-like deposit in and over it. the advantages of convenience and economy are all with SE-MENT-OL (Liquid) The Radiator Cement remarkable liquid combines with the water and circu harmlessly with it. When it strikes the air at a leak, oxygen starts a congealing action, forming a tough, 1anent seal that will stand 500 pounds’ pressure. 1 cracked waterjackets are permanently repaired with SE-MENT-OL. (For an object lesson in SE-MENT-OL’s make the sprinkling can test pictured here, using hot water.) Probably your dealer carries » 000,000 SE-MENT-OL Liquid, If not, send us Cans Sold 75 cents for a can and name your dealer. Also made in Powder form, same price. Other Norwesce Products—SKALEX, The Radiator Cleaner, 75¢; Canada, Se. TOP DRESS- ING, tor leather and Pantasote, pints, 75c; quarts, $1.25; Canada, $1.00 and $1.40. MOHAIR DRESS- ING, for mohair tops and all top linings, pints, 75c; quarts, $1.25; Canada, $1.00 and $1.00. UTILITY BLACK, dries hard and glossy in one hour, half pints, Dec; pints, $1.00; Canada, Sc and $1.30 VALVE COMPOUND, for casy Ive grinding, 4-ounce double-end can, We; one-pound shop can, $1.00; Canada, 45e and $1.15 The Northwestern Chemical Co. 123 State Street Marietta, Ohio, U.S. A. Le “like putting a new film in a Kodak” HEN you use Colgate’s Handy Grip Shaving Stick, you can renew .the soap as easily as you replace the film in a Kodak. It is made to be used that way— for convenience and economy. You will notice that the “‘socket”’ of the Handy Grip is threaded. When your soap is nearly gone, Colgate “* Refill’’ Stick, which costs less than a com plete Grip and is threaded to fit the socket - the last of the soap (using a knife-blade like a screw driver) and screw in the “ Refill.” screwed stub on the end of the sn the 10 cool, comfortable Colgate shaves saved that way. ticks COLGATE & CO k Then add still another economy by sticking the un- the grave with gentle hands those five tough doughboys scattered some blood-red poppy blossoms upon it. “The French mother, who had main- tained a stoic calm throughout the night, poured forth her passionate gratitude to the boys, who understood not one solitary word of it. But when she stopped, the big red-headed corporal, instinctively realizing that there should be some response, mus- tered up every bit of French he knew, dug his toe into the earth and, as his four companions twirled their steel helmets uncomfortably, said simply: “Vive la France!" Ghosts of the Argonne — can hear them at night when the moon is hidden ; They sound like the rustle of winter leaves, Or lone lost winds that arise, unbidden, Or rain that drips from the forest eaves, As they glide again from their silent crosses To meet and talk of their final fight, Where over the group some stark tree tosses Its eerie shadow across the night. If you'll take some night with its moonless weather, I know you will reason beyond a doubt That the rain and the wind and the leaves to- gether Are making the sounds you will hear about : The wintry rustle of dead leaves falling, Thewhisperingwind through the matted glen; But I can swear u's a sergeant calling The ghostly roll of his squad again. They talk of war and its crimson glory, And laugh at the trick which Fate has played ; And over and over they tell the story Of their final charge through the Argonne glade ; March 15,1919 But gathering in by hill and hollow With their ghostly tramp on the rain- soaked loam, There is one set rule which the clan must follow: They never speak of returning home. They whisper still of the rifles’ clatter, The riveting racket machine guns gave, Until dawn comes and the clan must scatter As each one glides to his waiting grave ; But here at the end of their last endeavor However their stark dreams leap the foam There is one set rule they will keep forever: “Death to the Phantom who speaks of home!”’ Grantland Rice, Third Army. No Man’s Land HOU flame-scourged scar athwart the breast of Earth, Pock-marked, intrenched, wire fettered, strand on strand— Clear-sighted warriors gave thy title birth: “The shells fell thick to-day on No Man's Land.” Aye, ‘No Man’s Land.”’ So shall it ever be From this day forth. Men's prayers, the last wan sigh, The tears of womankind, thou gaunt Geth- semane, Have signed and sealed forever, and for aye! From this day forth, that sacred plot of ground Each foot, each yard, each blood bespat- tered rod No human ownership shall know, by mete or bound. ’Tis no man’s land, indeed. That land belongs to God! Frank Weller.

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Beauty in Sower E\UWLRSIN Jeautyes Masterly motored, the Auburn Beauty-S1X proves by road performance the beauty in its power. Supreme triumph of nineteen years’ successful automobile engineering, the Beauty-SLX is the season's outstanding motor car value. Success crowns success in the Beauty-SLYX. AUTOMOBILE CO. AUBURN IND. ev Incomparably beautiful, daringly designed, the Beaufy-S]X merges power and beauty with satisfaction. Individuality of lines puts pride in a ride in the Beauty-S1NX. Dealers of Standing ; . : : seins a tall Mechanically correct the engine performance is characterized by Sor exceptional smoothness and flexibility. unusual op portuntty Auburn Beauty-S1X @ De Luxe Catalogue now ready AUBURN AUTOMOBILE COMPANY Enduring beauty, compelling power in Auburn Beauty-SI1X create a pride of possession that is instant — lasting. The straight line of the bonnet merging with and continued by the bevel-edge of the body rail gives an artistic identity motorists so much desire. At 40 or 50 miles an hour the Beauty-S/].X hugs the road, gives in all dependability exhilarating security. Two Mopeis—0-99 H Frve-Patbsenger Toure A-39 K Four-Passences Smart Tourster Smartest color combination wenn _ ] 5 Q 5 purple-black and Auburn grey. S iy AUBURN, INDIANA Automobile Engineers for Nineteen Years

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The Biggest Fo for O¢ ithe Value in America a ee ee ae ee i oe od a ! | THE SATURDAY EVENING POST = ye You fast by giving up meat; but you feast on more-than-meat when you substitute Golden Age Americanized Macaroni. The life-giving, strength-building part of the richest Durum Wheat made into the most wholesome, nourishing, tempting food. The Cleveland Macaroni Company Cleveland, Ohio, U. S. A. Modern Macaroni Makers March 15,1919 The meat that is not flesh Lenten Recipes Writ rie ( lude , dishe a | insure ful t | ind eliminate craving for meat Besides 52 delightful recipes for preparing macaroni, spaghett ind noodles, Miss Yackey’s Cook Book contains special | i i | ch ur guides providing proper diet for children, growing youths, adults, people of ad vanced age, invalids, convales- | cent ind athletes. ee Ee ——- — — a

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uselessness. Calvin saw her with green- yellow hair, a cigarette in painted lips; he heard the blurred applause of men at the spectacle of Hannah on the stage, dressed ike the women he had seen there. Then pride stiffened him into a semblance of her own remoteness. “It’s in you,” he said; “and it will have to come out. I’m what I am, too, and that loesn’t make it any easier. Kind of a fool ibout you. Another girl won’t do. I'll say good night.” He turned and abruptly quitted the room and all his hope. vi HEN the furniture Calvin had ordered through the catalogue at Priest’s store irrived by mountain wagon he placed it in the room beside the kitchen that was to been Hannah’s and his. Hannah had three weeks before with Phebe. This ione he sat for a long while on the portico f his house, facing the rich bottom pastur- ige and high verdant range beyond. It was ate afternoon on the valley filled with a golden haze from a sun veiled in watery late-spring vapors. An old apple tree by the road was flushed with pink blossoms and a mocking bird was whistling with piercing sweetness. ave one was Soon it would be evening and the frogs vould begin again, the frogs and whip- poorwills. The valley, just as Hannah had aid, was lonely. He stirred and later got imself supper—in the kitchen where verything was new. On the following mornir tream settlement; it was Friday, and Monday he returned with Ettie, his sister. She was remarkably him—tall and g he left Green- ike ingular, with a gaunt face and steady blue eyes. Older than Calvin, she had settled nto a complete acquiescence with what- ever life brought; no more for her than the eeping of ner brothe r’ nouse. Calvin noting the efficient manner in which she rdered their material affairs wondered at the fact that she had not been married. Men were unaccountable, but none more so than himself, with his unquenchable long- ng for Hannah. This retreated to the bas He never spoke of her. : of his be ing. tried to Indeed he THE SATURDAY EVENING POST LONELY VALLEYS (Continued from Page 15 her from his thoughts, and with a But it never occurred to him to consider any other girl; that possibility was closed. Those he saw—and they were uniformly kind, even inviting were dull after Hannah. Instead he devoted himself to the equiv- put measure of success.

alent, in his undertakings, of Ettie’s o iet capability. The following year a small number of the steers grazing famed ‘the road were his; in two years more Senator Alderwith _ d, and there was a divis sion of his estate, in which Calvin assumed large liabilities, meitr them as he had con- tracted. The timber in Sugarloaf Valley drew ‘ulators—he sold options and bought a place in the logging development. It seeme d to him that he grew older, in appearance anyhow, with exceptional ra pidit y; his face grew leaner and his beard, which he continued to shave, was soiled with gray hair. He avoided the Braleys and their clear- ing; and when circumstance drew him into conversation with Richmond or Hosmer he studiously spoke of indifferent things. He heard nothing of Hannah. Yet he learned in the various channels of communication common to remote localities that Rich- mond Braley was doing badly. Hosmer spec

went to bank in one of the newly prosper- ous towns of West Virginia and appar- ently left all family obligations behind; Susan died of | lung fever; and then, at the post office, Calvin was told that Richmond himself was dangerously sick

He left the mail with Ettie at his door and rode on, turning for the first time in nine years into the narrow valley of t Braleys’ home. The place had been neg- lected until it was hardly distinguishable from the surrounding tangled wild. Such sheep as he saw were in wretched condi- tion, wild and massed with filth and burs. Mrs. Bri iley was filling a large glass flasl _ h hot water for her husband; and to Calvin’s surprise a child, with a quantity of straight pale-brown hair and wide-opened hazel-brown eyes, was seated watching her in the kitchen. ‘How is Richmond?” he asked, his gaze straying unconsciously to the girl. “Kingdom come’s how he is,” Li Braley replied. ‘Yes, and the icy poorhouse will end us unless Hosmer has a spark of good feeling. I sent him a postal card to come a long while back, but he much as answered. Here, Lucy” —she turned to the child—‘‘run up with this.” “Lucy?” Calvin Stammark asked when they were alone. “Been here two weeks,” Mrs. Braley told him. “What will become of her's beyond me. She is Hannah’s daughter, and Hannah is dead.” There was a sharp constriction of Cal- vin’s heart. Hannah’s daughter, and Han- nah was dead. _ “So far as I know,” the other continued in a strained metallic voice, “the child’s got no father you could fix. Hannah wrote the name was Lucy Vibard, and she'd called her after me. But when I asked her, she didn’t seem to know anything about it. ‘Hannah was alone and dog-poor when she died, that’s certain. Like everything else I can lay mind on she came to a bad end—Lord reckons where Phebe is. | always thought you were weak-fingered to let Hannah go—with that house built and all. | suppose maybe you weren’t, though; well out of a slack bargain.” Calvin Stammark scarcely heard her; his being was possessed by the pitiable image of Hannah dying alone and dog-poor. He | had always pictured her—except in the fleet vision of debasement—as young and grace- ful and disturbing. Without further speech he left the kitchen and crossed the house to the shut parlor. It was screened against the day, dim and musty and damp. The orange plush of the chairs and the narrow uncomfortable sofa, carefully dusted, was as bright as it had been when he had last seen it was it ten year ghey Here she had stood, her fingers tapping on the table, when he had mi nade the unfor- tunate remi ark about Phebe; the lamplight had illuminated her rig heek. Here she had proclaimed her fain wh nce with Green- stream, with its loneliness, her desire for life. Here he had lost her. A sudden need to see Hannah's daughter invaded him and he returned to the kitchen. The child was present, silent, with Han- nah’s eyes, Hannah's hair. Seated by Richmond Braley’s bed he instantly per- ceived that the old man was dying; and

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EVENING POST mentally he composed the urgent message to be sent to Hosmer. But that failed to settle the problem of Lucy’s safety — Han- nah’s Lucy, who might have been his too. The resolving of that difficulty slowly took form in his thoughts. There was no need to discuss it with Ettie—his duty, yes, and his desire were clear. He took her home directly after Rich- mond’s funeral, an erratic wind blowing her soft loose hair against his face as he drove. vir HERE had been additions to Calvin Stammark’s house—the half story raised, and its length increased by a room. This was now furnished as the parlor and had an entrance from the porch extended across the face of the dwelling; the middle lower room was his; the chamber designed for his married life was a seldom used din- ing room; while Ettie and Lucy were above. number of sheds for stabling and im- plements, chicken coops and pigpen had accumulated at the back; the corn and buckwheat climbed the mountain; and the truck patch was wide and prolific. A narrow strip separated the house from the public road, bright, in season, with the petunias and cinnamon pinks Ettie tended; and the flowers more than anything else at- tracted Hannah’s daughter. Calvin talked with her infrequently, but a great deal of his silent attention was directed at the child. Already Lucy had a quality of appeal to which he watched Ettie respond. The latter took a special interest in making Lucy as pretty as possible; in the afternoon she would dress her in sheer white with a ribbon in her hair. She spared Lucy many of the details of housework in which the latter could have easily assisted her; and when Calvin protested she replied that she was so accustomed to doing that it was easier for her to go ahead. Calvin’s feelings were mixed. At first he had told himself that Lucy would be, in a way, his daughter; he would bring her up as his own; and in the end what he had would be hers, just as it should have been Hannah's. However, his attitude was never any that might be recognized as that of parenthood. He never grew completely accustomed to her presence, she was always a subject of interest and speculation. He continued to get pleasure from her slender graceful being and the little airs of delicacy she assumed. He was conscious, certainly, that Lucy was growing older—yet not so fast as he but he had a shock of surprise when she informed him that she was fifteen. Calvin pinched her cheek and, sitting on the porch, heard her within issuing a peremptory direction to Ettie. The elder made no reply and, he knew, did as Lucy wished. This disturbed him. There wasn’t a finer woman living than Ettie Stammark, and he didn’t propose to have Lucy impudent with her. Lucy, he decided, was getting a little beyond them. She was quick at her lessons, the Greenstream teacher said. Lucy would have considerable property when he died; he'd like her to have all the advantages possible; and—very suddenly—Calvin de- cided to send her away to school, to Stan- the small city between which and home the Greenstream stage drove. She returned from her first term at experiences with and friends, to which Ettie and he listened with absorbed attention. Now she seemed farther from him than before; and he saw that a likeness to Hannah was increasing; not in appearance—though that was not dissimilar—but in the quality that had established Hannah’s difference from other girls, the quality for which he had never found a name. The assumptions of Lucy’s childhood had become strongly marked preferences for the flowers of exist- ence, the ease of the portico rather than the homely labor of the back of the house. Neither his sister nor he resented this or feit that Lucy was evading her just duties; rather they enjoyed ita difference from their own practical existence and affairs. They could afford to have her in fresh laundered frills and they secretly enjoyed the manner | in which she instructed them in social con- | ventions. | end, she At her home-coming for the summer she brought to an end the meals in the kitchen; but when she left once more for Stanwick and school, Ettie and Calvin, without remark, drifted back to the comfortable convenience of the table near the cooking stove. This period of Lucy’s experience at an arrived in Greenstream on a hot March !5,1919 still June evening. Neither Calvin nor his sister had been able to go to Stanwick for the school commencement, and Calvin had been too late to meet the stage. After the refreshing cold water in the bright tin basin by the kitchen door he went to his room for a presentable necktie and hand- kerchief—Lucy was very severe about the latter—and then walked into the dining room. The lamp was not yet lighted, the light was illusive, tender, and his heart violently contracted at the youthful but mature back turned toward him. She turned slowly, a hand resting on the table, and Calvin Stammark’s senses swam. An inner confusion invaded him, pierced by a sharp unutterable longing. “‘Hannah,”’ he whispered. She smiled and advanced; but, his heart pounding, Calvin retreated. He must say something reasonable, tell her that they were glad to have her back—mustn't leave them again. She kissed him, and, his eyes shut, the touch of her lips recreated about him the parlor of the Braleys—the stiffly arranged furniture with its gay plush, the varnished fretwork of the organ, the pink glow of the lamp. She was Hannah! The resemblance was so perfect—her cheek’s turn, her voice, sweet with a trace of petulance, her fingers that it was sustained in a flooding light through the commonplace revealing act of supper. It was as if the eighteen years since Hannah, his Hannah, was a reality had been nothing, the passage of the’valley. His love for her was unchanged—no, here at least was a difference; it was greater, keener; exactly as if during the progress of their intimacy he had been obliged to go away from her for a while. She accompanied Ettie to the kitchen and Calvin sat on the porch in a gather- ing darkness throbbing with frogs and perfumed with drifting locust blooms. Con- stellation by constellation the stars glim- mered into being. Hannah, Lucy! They mingled and in his fiber were forever one. He gave himself up to the beauty of his passion, purified and intense from long patience and wanting, amazed at the mir- acle that had brought back everything infinitely desirable. He forgot his age, and preparing for the night saw with a sense of personal outrage his seamed countenance reflected in the mirror of the bureau. Yet in reality he wasn’t old — forty-something — still, not fifty. He was as hard and nearly as springy as a hickory sapling. There was a saying in which he found vast comfort—the prime, the very prime of life. vir IS enormous difficulty would be to bring Lucy to the understanding of his new--but it was the old—attitude toward her. If she had never become com- pletely familiar to him, association had made him a solid recognized part of her existence; if not exactly a father, an uncle at the very least. Calvin realized that she would be profoundly shocked by any abrupt revelation of his feeling. Yet he was for the time in no hurry to bring about the desired change in their relationship. His life had been so long empty that it was enough to dwell on the great happiness of his repossession. This, he knew, could not continue, but at present, to-day, it was almost enough. Before he was aware, the summer had gone, the mountains were sheeted in gold; and he was still dreaming, putting off the actuality before them. The logging in Sugarloaf Valley had grown to an operation of importance, and a great deal of his time was spent watching the spur of railroad creep forward and the clearing of new sections; sawmills and camps were in course of erection; and what had been a still green cleft in the mountains was filled with human activity. He had secured an advantageous position for a young man from the part of the county inhabited by the Stammark family, Wilmer Deakon, and consulted with him frequently in connection with his interests. Wilmer was to the last degree depend- able; a large grave individual who took a serious interest in the welfare of his fellows and supported established customs and institutions. He sang in a resounding bary- tone with the Methodist Church choir; his dignified bearing gave weight to the school board; and he accumulated a steadily growing capital at the Greenstream bank. An admirable individual, Calvin thought, (Continued on Page 45)

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(Continued from Page 42) and extended to him the wide hospitality of his house. Lucy apparently had little to say to Wilmer Deakon; indeed, when he was not present, to their great delight she imitated his deliberate balanced speech. She said that he was too solemn—an opinion with which Calvin privately agreed—and made an irreverent play on his name and the place he should occupy in the church. It seemed that she took a special delight in annoying him; and on an occasion when Calvin had made up his mind to reprove her for this, he was surprised by Wilmer’s request to speak to him outside. Wilmer Deakon said abruptly: ‘Lucy and I are promised to each other.” Calvin stood gazing at him in a lowering, complete surprise, at a loss for words, when the other continued with an intimation of his peculiar qualifications for matrimony, the incontrovertible fact that he could and would take care of Lucy. He stopped at the appropriate moment and waited con- fidently for Calvin Stammark’s approval. The latter, out of a gathering, immeasur- able rage, almost shouted “You get to hell off my place!” Wilmer Deakon was astounded but otherwise unshaken. ‘“‘That’s no way to answer a decent man and a proper ques- tion,’’ he replied. “‘Lucy and I want to be married. There’s nothing wrong with that. But you look as if I had offered to disgrace her. Why, Mr. Stammark, you can’t keep her forever. I reckon it'll be hard on you to have her go, but you must make up your mind to it some day. She’s willing, and you know all about me. Then Lucy won't be far away from you-all. I’ve cleared the brush up and the bottom of our house is laid right now in Sugarloaf.” Calvin’s anger sank before a sense of helplessness at this latter fact. Wilmer was building a house for her just as he had built for Hannah. He remembered his delight and pride as it had approached completion; he remembered the evening, nearly twenty years ago, when he had sat on the bank across the road and seen it finished. Then he had ridden, without waiting to fix up, to the Braleys’; Hannah had scolded him as they sat in the parlor. “I must speak to Lucy,” he said in a different, weary tone Bareheaded he walked over into the pas- ture, now his. The cattle moved vaguely in the gloom, with softly blowing nos- trils, and the streams were like smooth dark ribbons. When he returned to his house the lights were out, Wilmer Deakon was gone and Lucy was in bed. He again examined his countenance in the mirror, but now he was surprised that it was not haggard with age. It seemed that twenty more years had been added to him since supper. He wondered if there had ever been another man who had lost his love twice. Now he saw that he had been a blind fool for not speaking in the June dusk when Lucy had come back from school Lucy, it developed, had spoken to Ettie, and there was a general discussion of her affair at breakfast. Calvin carried away from it a persistent feeling of dissatisfaction, but for this he could find no tangible reason. Of course, he silently argued, the girl could not be ex- pected to show her love for Wilmer pub- licly; it was enough if he had been assured of its strength; the fact of her agreement to marry him, final. He went about his daily activities with a heavy absent-mindedness, with a dragging thought. A man was coming from Wash- ington to see him in the interest of a new practically permanent fencing, and he met him at the post office, listened to a loud cheerful greeting with a marked inatten- tion. The salesman was named Martin Eckles, and he was fashionably dressed in a suit of shepherd’s check bound with braid, and had a flashing ring—a broad gold band set with a mystic symbol in rubies and dia- monds. After his supper at the hotel he walked, following Calvin's direction, the short distance to the latter’s house, where Calvin and Ettie Stammark and Lucy were seated on the porch. Martin Eckles, it developed, was a fluent and persuasive talker, a man of the broad- est worldly experiences and wit. He was younger than Calvin, but older than Wil- mer Deakon, and a little fat. He had a small mustache cut above his lip, and closely shaved ruddy cheeks with a tinge of purple about his ears. Drawing out his THE SATURDAY monologue entertainingly he gazed re- peatedly at Lucy. Calvin lost the sense of most that the other said; he was immersed in the past that had been made the present and then denied to him—it was all before him in the presence of Lucy, of Hannah come back with the unforgetable and magic danger of her appeal. x N THE extension of his commercial activity Martin Eckles kept his room at the Greenstream Hotel and employed a horse and buggy for his excursions through- out the county. It had become his habit to sit through the evenings on the Stammar! porch, where his flood of conversation never lessened. Lucy scarcely added a phrase to the sum of talk. She rocked in her chair with a slight endless motion, her dreaming gaze fixed on the dim valley. Wilmer Deakon, on the occasion of his first encounter with Eckles at the Stammarks’, acknowledged the other’s presence and stood waiting for Lucy to proceed with him to the parlor. But Lucy apparently was unconscious of this; she sat calm and remote in her crisp white skirts, while Wilmer fidgeted at the door. Soon, however, she said: “‘ For goodness’ sake, Wilmer, whatever's the matter with you? Can't you find a chair that suits you? You make a person nervous.” At the same time she rose ungraciously and followed him into the house. Wilmer came out, Calvin thought, in an astonishingly short while. Courting was nothing like it had been in his day. The young man muttered an unintelligible sen tence that, from the occasion, could be interpreted as a good night, and strode back to the barn and his horse. Martin Eckles said: ‘The must have been a little ruffled.” And Calvin, with a strong sense of hav- ing heard such a thing before, was vaguely uneasy. Eckles sat for a long space; Lucy didn’t appear, and at last reluctantly the visitor rose. But Lucy had not gone to bed; she came out on the porch and dropped with a flounce into a chair beside Calvin. ““Wilmer’s pestering me to get married right away,” she told him; “before ever the house is built. He seems to think | ought to be just crazy to take him and go to that lonely Sugarloaf place.” “It’s what you promised for,” Calvin reminded her; “nothing’s turned up you didn’t know about.” “If I did!’ she exclaimed irritably ‘‘What else is a girl to do, I'd like to ask?”’ she demanded. “It’s just goingsfrom one stove to another, here. Only it'll be worse in my case—you and Aunt Ettie have been lovely to me. I hate to cook!” she cried ** And it makes me sick to put my hands in greasy dishwater! I suppose that’s wicked but I can’t help it. When I told Wilmer that to-night he acted like I’d denied com- munion. I can’t help it if the whippoorwills make me shiver, can I? Or if I want to see a person go by once in a while. I—I don’t want to be bad—or to hurt you or Wilmer Oh, I'll settle down, there’s nothing else to do; I'll marry him and get old before my time, like the others.” love birds Calvin Stammark leaned forward, his hands on his knees, and stared at her in shocked amazement—Hannah in every accent and feeling. The old sense of danger and helplessness flooded him. He thought of Phebe with her dyed hair and cigarette- stained lips, her stories of the stage and life; Calvin thought of Hannah dying alone and dog poor. Now Lucy “Do you remember anything about your mother,” he asked, “and before you came here?” “Only that we were dreadfully unhappy,” she told him. “There was a boarding house with actresses washing their stockings in the rooms and a landlady they were all afraid of. There was beer in the washstand pitcher. But that wouldn’t happen to me,” she asserted; “I'd be different. I might be an actress, but in dramas where , would be down and everybody love me ‘You're going to marry Wilmer Deakon and be a proper happy wife!”’ he declared, bringing his fist down on a hard palm. this other nonsense out of your my hair “Get head Suddenly he was trembling at the old catastrophe reopened by Lucy. His love for her, and his dread, choked him. She said nothing more, but sat rigid and pal and rebellious. Before long she went in, but Calvin stayed facing the darkness, the menace of the lonely valley. Except for | qi EVENING POST 4 HE pure juice of the vanilla bean—aged in wood to bring out its mellow flavor and rich, dark color. That's Price’s Vanilla Extract! Not a bit of artificial vanillin, coumarin, nor coloring in it. So much depends upon the flavor of your cakes and puddings, ice cream and candies that you want the é prPRICE Sj EXTRACT VANILLA b very best! 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Both shown in illustration. i YANKEE" Bench Drill No. ee wo speeds, 3-)aw chu hk Hei $i 9.25 Price Philedsia No. 1003. 3-jaw chuck, holds | up to *4 In Height 13% in Philadelphia $11.50 No. 990. “YANKEE” Vise | \ ur ately ma } ne | les, ends and bottom, for holding work on Bench Drills and other ‘ ls. Swivel-jaw for | taper work; groove for rounds. Base 6 in. long ois ct i. se Your Dealer Can Supply You Write for Free YANKEI " Tool Book, illustr “YANKEI Tools in action, ] ind easier ways of drilling, boring, tapping, | and driving rews & | ¥, North Bros. Mfg. Co. ‘ Philadelphia ‘ | silent for a little, | and killed. EVENING POST the lumbermen it would be worse in the Sugarloaf cutting. Damn the frogs! Martin Eckles appeared in the buggy the following evening and offered to carry Lucy for a short drive to a near-by farm, and with an air of indifference she accepted. Wilmer didn’t call, and Calvin sat in silent perplexity with Ettie. The buggy returned later than they had allowed, and Lucy went up to bed without stopping on the porch. The next morning Ettie, with something in her hand, came out to Calvin at the stable shed. “T found this in Lucy’s room,’ simply. It was Martin Eckles’ gold ring, set with the insigne in rubies, suspended in a loop of ribbon. A cold angry certitude formed in his being. What a criminal fool he had been! What a blind booby! His only remark, however, brought a puzzled expression to Ettie’s troubled countenance. Calvin Stammark said “Phebe Braley.”” He was his frowning gaze fixed beyond any visible object, then he added: “Put that back where you found it and forget everything.” Ettie laid a hand on his sleeve. ‘‘ Now, Calvin,” she begged, her voice low and strained, “‘ promise me “4 “Forget everything!”’ he repeated harshly. His face was dark, forbidding, the lines deeply bitten about a somber mouth, his eyes were like blue ice. He walked into Greenstream, where he saw the proprietor of the small single hotel; then, back to his room, he unwrapped from oiled leather a heavy blued revolver; and soon after he saddled his horse and was clattering in a sharp trot in the opposite direction from the village. It was dark when he dismounted and swung the saddle from the horse to its tree. Familiar details kept him a long while, his hands were steady but slow, automatic in movement. He went in through the kitchen by Ettie to his room, where after a little he rewrapped the revolver and laid it back in an accustomed place. Supper was ready by the stove, in spite of Lucy’s sharp com- ment, and Ettie was solicitous of his every possible need. He ate methodically what was offered, and afterward filled and lighted his pipe. It soon went out. Once, on the porch, he leaned toward Lucy and awk- wardly touched her shoulder. ’ she said x ILMER came. He was late, and Lucy said in a weary voice, “I’ve got a headache to-night. Do you mind if we stay out here in the cool?” He didn’t, and his confident, familiar planning took the place of Martin Eckles’ more exciting narratives. The next day, past noon, the proprietor of the Greenstream Hotel left an excited group of men to stop Calvin as he drove in from Sugarloaf Valley. The former cried: ‘‘ Eckles has been shot First they found the horse and buggy by the road, and then Martin Eckles. He had fallen out. One bullet did it.” ‘That’s too bad,”’ Calvin said evenly. “Lawlessness ought to be put down.” He | had known Solon Entreken all his life. The | level gaze of two men encountered and held. Then “I'll never say anything against that,” the other pronounced. “It’s mighty strange who could have shot Eckles and got clear away. That’s what he did, in | spite of hell and the sheriff.” Turning, after inevitable exclamations, toward home, he found Lucy sitting mood- ily on the porch. “T’ve got a right ugly piece of news,” he told her, masking the painful inte rest with which he followed her expression. ‘‘ Martin Eckles was killed yesterday; shot out of the buggy.” She grew pale, her breast rose in a sud- den gasp and her hands were clenched. “Oh!” she cried, horrified. But there was nothing in her manner beyond the natural detestation of such brutality; nothing, he saw, hidden. “He wanted me to go away with him,” she swept on, “and get married in Stan- wick. Martin wanted me to see the world. He said I ought to, and not stay here all my life.” The misery that settled over her, the hopelessness dulling her youth filled him with a passionate resentment at the fate that made her what she was and seemingly condemned her to eternal denial. His love March 15,1919 for her—Lucy, Hannah, Hannah, Lucy was intolerably keen. He went to her, bending with a riven hand on the arm of her chair. “Do you want Wilmer?” he demanded. “Do you love him truly? Is he enough?” “TI don’t know.” Slow tears wet her cheeks. “I can’t say. I ought to; he’s good and faithful, and with some of me that’s enough. But there’s another part; I can’t explain it except to say it’s a kind of excitement for the life Mr. Eckles told us about, all those lights and restaurants and theaters. Sometimes I think I'll die, I want it so much; then it comes over me how ungrateful I am to you and Aunt Ettie, and I hate myself for the way I treat Wilmer.” “Do you love him?” he insisted. “Perhaps not like you mean.” All that had been so long obscured in his mind and heart slowly cleared to under- standing—Lucy Braley, Richmond’s wife; Phebe; Hannah; and again Lucy, Lucy Vibard, had this common hunger for life, for brightness; they were as helpless in its grasp as he had been to hold Hannah. Phebe’s return, Martin Eckles—were only incidents in a greater inner need. In itself it wasn’t wicked; circumstance had made it seem wrong; Phebe’ s greenish hair, the mark of so much spoiled, Hannah's un- happy death—-were the result of denials; they fretted and bruised, even killed them- selves, like young gay animals, innocent animals in a dark lonely inclosure. They were really finer than the satisfied women who faded to ugliness in the solitary homes of the Greenstream mountains; not better, for example, than Ettie—it might be that they weren't so good, not so high in heaven; but they were finer in the man- ner of a blooded horse rebelling against the plow traces. They were more elegant, slim- mer, with a greater fire. That, too, was the secret of their memorable power over him; he wanted a companion different from a kitchen drudge; he wanted when he re- turned home at evening a wife cool and sweet in crisp white with a yellow ribbon about her waist, and store slippers. He loved Lucy’s superiority—it was above ordinary things. ‘Like a star,’’ Calvin Stammark told himself. He, with everything else that had com- bated their desire, deprived them of the very necessities of his adoration, had been to blame. “Lucy,” he said, bending over her and speaking rapidly, “‘let’s you and me go and learn all this life together. Let’s run away from Greenstream and Wilmer Deakon and even Ettie, what we ought to hold by, and see every theater in the country. I’ve got enough money The radiance of the gesture by which she interrupted his speech filled him with pounding joy. “Oh, will we!” she cried; and then hugged him wildly, her warm young arms about his neck “Of course we will,” he reassured her “and right away, to-morrow. You and me.” He felt her lips against his, and then more cautiously she took up the immedi- ate planning of their purpose. It would be ridiculously easy; they would drive to Stanwick in the buggy. “The hotels and all,”’ she continued with shining eyes; ‘“‘and nobody will think it’s queer. I'll be your daughter, like always.” Calvin turned abruptly from her and faced the valley saturated with slumberous sunlight. Lucy hesitated for a moment and then fled lightly into the house. After a little he heard her singing on the upper floor. People wouldn’t think it was queer because she would be his daughter, “‘like always.” Yet he wasn’t old beyond hope, past love—as strong and nearly as springy as a hickory sapling. He had waited half his life for this. Calvin slowly smiled in bitter- ness and self-contempt; a pretty figure for a young girl to admire, he thought, losing the sense of mere physical fitness. Anyhow Lucy was supremely happy and safe, and he had accomplished it. He was glad that he had been so industrious and successful. Lucy could have almost anything she wanted— pretty clothes and rings with real jewels, necklaces hung with better than Scotch pebbles. Perhaps when she had seen the world its bigness and noise and confusion—her longing answered, she would turn back to him. Already he was oppressed by a feeling of strangeness, of loss at leaving the high valleys of home. ” : ee ee

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— ————— ee ee THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 47 Oregon City Woolens OVERCOATS MACKINAWS- FLANNEL SHIRTS INDIAN BLANKETS MOTOR ROBES~ BED BLANKETS To the Merchants of America WE are proud to have had a part in the supplying of overcoats and woolen goods for our victorious armies. Since 1864, Oregon City Woolens have been worn by the men who blazed trails and fought for civilization. Even before the war, we were unable to meet the natural demand for our goods. But now, with a mill double in size, we are ready to supply our old patrons, and new ones, with Oregon City wool products. Located in the heart of the great wool country, we have the first choice of fleece as it comes from the clippers’ shears. For 55 years we have woven fabrics which stand for beauty, rugged service and wonderful all-wool warmth. Wd MAA AAA Our Mackinaw fabrics, our Overcoatings, our Flannels, our Robes and OREGON CITY. ORECON. U.S.A Blankets, are justly famous. FOUNOE 4 #4 ° - . . ; ase By /-* ZC Ue We tailor Oregon City Mackinaws and Overcoats in our bright, sunny PIRES Se9,: shops, in the cheerful atmosphere of the great West. Oregon City designers The label that is linked with history are alert to the best styles of Broadway and Michigan Avenue. Through the whole Oregon City line the same standard of old-time genuineness, which was the ideal of the founders, prevails. The romance of this pioneer mill and its merchandise will be told through commanding national advertising. Twelve million copies of The Saturday Evening Post wili contain our full-page advertisements this year. Our representatives are now showing the complete 1919 line to retail merchants in every state of the Union. Be sure to see it — write to-day, or mail the coupon. bl . Oregon City Woolen Mills Founded in 1864 by 1. & R. Jacobs Mills and Tailoring Shops at Oregon City, Oregon New York: 373 Fourth Avenue - “a a Highest Award Highest Award Philadelphia Centenmal 1876 Panama-Pacit [Exposition 1915 = ih x eee eee 4 y Dealers’ Catalog Request Oregon City Woolen Mills, Oregon City, Oregon. From Mill To Merchant Gentlemen I am interested in your line Please send new dealers’ Catalog, and proofs of “A your national advertising "i Firm ‘ Buyer \ 4 City State

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Our fighting men did a splendid and telling . work ind the Huns out of t \ be t (ur me 1d I r ‘ ) War i ! ( ‘ ‘ | t | ! t ok ' | t l i ! here w ! t I ri kil j } ere 19 ' { | it t t« thir e | i t! \ ‘ tupa tl tues of l | | irt t 1 | ‘ ft f ( 1} how amo! | } ! \ t ' ‘ nh } {1 t ‘ e} r the t | ta ' 4 t " ' ( | } ea bact | el i ita «ft { t ft r tt ) ter thas in nt ‘ ‘ ( i t be bacco tl holl vl t that om 7 l | i ng a tobacco not i tuntilt ( find one | ‘ mn thi cl If so, ‘ lad irn t ul { t bch ‘ lol ‘ | not ou at better t n tl re } ’ the yf } | j t ist tol ive ! ! ! i li it t u W ln ivhty t r ‘ t rt ! { Merel ' ird y t ‘ rvdadd vith those of tl ‘ f hall ! ! kif need i | ‘ A { ea yenet ! | Lol both f ‘ Slice and Readv-! buaat thl | lint ‘ keen | ni | | betwee e hand ind i pipe acl Ik Rubbed comes prepared " t to yo pipe It pach ‘ i bum eel evel totl ve i" ! te andl better ! 4 lin ‘ mvenient tf i Ldgewo | ly-Rul " nd 70 h $1.40 S140 l . PI « i) 0 is 1 1 ! WW nt | e Ue r ( ‘ Ist ot | nd, Va To Retail Tobacco Merchants —|\| ' with tdgewort 1} ‘ { idly ‘ " ly ‘ two of a f Pl Slice ¢ if id wi \) | | | EXTRA HIGH GRADE ———— 48 The Men Who Smoked THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Al WOMAN'S WOMAN Through the Argonne | juice as trequentiy—only they ean be wise SMOKING TOBACCO | and grow a mustache to cover up what has happened. His hands were not firm like the sena- tor’s, but flabby, and manicured, to please Iris; and he wore a showy ring. He was really aping Rex Humberstone. This man in his ultra-modish suit of check was not her John She tried to convince herself that the coating of ice was re ally all the river possessed—but she could not quite still the flowing current. ‘I suppose you'll go on in public life until women get the vote; then you'll be chief of police.” He spoke in that lackadai ical manner to hide ever-present masculine jealousy at his woman’s doing anything outside her hearth Densie laughed off the joke—but the sting of his remark remained. “Well, think how secure you could then feel,”’ she answered quickly Senator Gleason happened to be in Den ie district when she was on her first nspecting or phanages, bringing to light neglected homy trifles and ferreting out unjust punishment or suggesting a more wholesome menu. She had such a gentle way of stating her com plaint, of reading in the harsh faces of attendants their own tragedies and dis- atisfactions and saying something appro priately soothing that they held no umbrage toward her when she took them to task. The former inspectors had been political graft ers who just naturally “got” the appoint- ment or single women with a mission in life, after Harriet’s fashion. With her motherly easy way Densie seemed to gain without inciting displeasure or causing rebellion. She could see the argu ments on the side of the attended and the attendants he would grow misty eyed when the orphans sang Jesus, Tender She pherd, Lead Me; and when she listened to the matron’s budget of woes that “ no- buddy cares nuthin’ about,” the mistiness would appear in her purplish eyes for the matron’s satisfaction Altogether the senator had acted wisely by placing Densie as he had, and if he chanced to be lingering about in his new touring car—the modern method of sere- nading, as he boldly declared—and took her across the country, talking to her eagerly asking endless personal questions about herself, while Densie planned great impet sonal things in institutional reform, no one seemed to think anything about it except Densie and the senator What the senator thought showed in his looked at Densie, and what jumble of Inspection tour she Wi results Same face as he Densie thought was a hopeless idea first a “wicked delight,’”’ as she named it, in knowing him; of having some- one who really cared what you thought about the morning's editorials and wanted to be sure whether you took one or two lumps of sugar in your coffee, if you ever had headaches and if you did not think the exchange was too much for one small old fashioned fairy—his name for Densie—and that you ought to sell it. “I'm a boy and you're a girl,” he said one day, “and we can play all we like Isn't that ripping? Being a senator—you being Mrs. Densie Plummer—hides us Continued from Page 26) from ruthless ridicule of the younger gen- eration. They think we are planning a cheaper kind of Sunday pudding or lobster- colored shirts for the epileptic colony! But we're not, are we? We are boy and girl, fifty-four and forty-eight, finished with noonday and watching the sunset to- gether!” He would have said more if Densie had not forced him to discuss some practical topic He had asked her to bring her son and daughter and visit him at his winter home in Virginia, but she refused; and the subject of John was never mentioned. Densie felt she could not do so, just as John had once felt that Iris Starr had no right even to speak Densie’s name. They always feel this way at the beginning— these forty - eight-year-old girls and fifty-four-year-old boys prattling away of sunsets and Indian ummer! But it soon evaporates and leaves them as thoughtlessly selfish as the younger generation who begrudge their elders’ having a wise and restraining finger in their romance Another time the senator had said abruptly, “Are you happy?” Before she thought she answered, “I try I try,” and was immediately sorry that she had spoken. She wondered if he knew about Iris Starr and the rift between John and herself, but if he did he kept his own counsel like the gentleman he was. He sent Densie books and wrote her letters illustrated by his own pen-and-ink sketches and sometimes old-fashioned bouquets fit only for an old-fashioned fairy, but no one in the family noticed, because Densie had o many club women seeking her patronage that she was being deluged with offerings. Returning from her second successful inspection trip—her exchange business all to be attended to, her club work behind, a hundred duties before her, as well as re- plenishing her wardrobe and visiting with her son while she pretended not to see the trapped look in Sally’s eyes—Densie met John coming into the apartment with a peculiarly terrifying expression. He was white and shiny-looking, as if he had been ill a long time, and he shuffled instead of properly lifting his feet. “Oh, you're back,” he saw her. “ Well expecting it.” “What?” She started to kiss him, as was her cus- tom. She felt an infinite tenderness for this wasted husband of hers, a pity which was impersonal and vast enough to extend even to the foolish woman who had en- tangled him. “I'm discharged,” he said thickly, shuf- fling over to the mantel. “I’m not young and quick enough. I haven’t money to keep buying their damned stock. Most of the young clerks turn back some of their salary each week. I hate the cursed store the cheats! I don’t care. I can get another job, but of course it won't be a manager’s job Well, do you understand?” ‘I am so sorry.” She spoke as gently as if he were a child. She was thinking with humorous dismay that she could have given John a position almost as good as the one he had held—he could have managed her exchange—but to be was all he said as it’s come. I’ve been March 15,1919 she would not offend his dignity, crippled though it was. “Of course, I’d rather you did not work for them—I never wanted it, and it was never right.” “What else was there to do?” he said savagely. “I did all I could.”’ He almost hated her for her success and his failure. “If I hadn’t been saddled with a family ever since I was a stripling this would never have come. By the looks of things, Densie, our children will profit by our mistake. Sally and Harriet will not be drudges as you say you were—and the boy is all for him- self, I’ve noticed.”’ “Ah, was it such a mistake?” she asked, the old deep current flowing very fast. “I’m down and out.”” He did not notice the remark. “I’ve lost everything I have. I’ve a little stock in the place and they said’’—his teeth bit his under lip until it was white—‘“‘they said, ‘If you can’t find another job we’ll take you on as clerk in the spice department.’ By God, they don’t care how they grind a man down! I kept Hippler after he was deaf and half blind and insolent!” “Why, you’re young—at your prime!” Densie spoke more to herself, because she was thinking of the senator. ‘‘What an insult that was to you!” “T’ll go out to-morrow and get a real job,” he asserted proudly. ‘‘ Watch me.’ *“You’rewelcometoanythingI have “I'd starve first!’”’ He almost snarled his refusal. He went away to seek out Iris Starr and be properly understood and com forted. Late that night Densie returning from a theater party, inwardly disturbed by what had happened, found her husband hud- dled before the gas grate, looking even older and more dejected. He did not say what was wrong—but she knew. Iris Starr had refused to comfort anyone who did not own sufficient stock in the Golden Rule to keep his position. Of course, she was sorry and so fond of him—but she had to look out for herself first of all. He had better not come any more—it was just as well things had never been forced with his wife to the point of obtaining a divorce, for here she had laughed gratingly —though she could support herself she could not support a husband, and from all reports his wife was capable of supplying him with a com- fortable home. His world in wreckage about him John retraced his footsteps to his wife’s apart- ment, gray and old of heart. Pride would not let him confess his own undoing. Cer tainly not to Densie, of whom he had de- manded his freedom that he might marry someone who understood him! Two months later after an endless search for work John Plummer donned a white apron and stood behind a counter at The Golden Rule Tea Store, but his face grew thinner, lines timidly made their appear ance across his forehead. He had really promoted himself in the biggest sense, onl; he did not yet realize what was happening Densie’sfriends pitied her—“ agrocer’sclerk for a husband, she’s such a brilliant dear!"’ And Densie accepted the situation with numbed indifference; pride held John from telling her half that was beginning to (Continued on Page 50) - . I il Ra —— et il - mc - rh 7, ’ i } 4 i) J | t ' > |

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ies: bn fae caten Reid, ack. 5 ia a A hd bP ee eee 5 ety _—. i If it isn’t an Eastman it isn’t KODAK Mapping Alaska’s Mountains— Courtesy United States Geological Survey with the Squeeze of a Bulb EORGE WASHINGTON’S theodolite and chain, or the transit and tape of later surveyors, were adequate for boundaries or for simple mapping. But conquering the bewildering array of peaks, gorges, and spurs of the Rockies involved hardship and time and heavy expense. So in recent topographical surveys made by our Gov- ernment in Alaska, the surveyor has turned to pho- tography —has made the panoramic camera his field instrument, and taken readings on a roll of film, at less expense, in shorter time, and with equal accuracy. Before surveying could utilize photography, the pan- oramic camera had to reach practical perfection. The heavy dry plate, so hard to transport, had to give way to the lightweight film which gives so many more pictures for the same weight on the pack mule. So this new triumph of photography is significant in itself, and more so because it illustrates the value of continuous improvement in the smaller phases of photography. In realization of this truth the Eastman Kodak Com- pany has for twenty-five years devoted specialized effort to every phase of photography. The institu- tion is so organized that when a new problem con- fronts photography an army of experts can be mobilized to meet that new need. 49

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50 | "Piawe thes 14 is the name that identifies shoes of superior qual ity, a mark that appears i} only on footwear of the | highest standard of mate- i rials, fit and style—a guide i to satisfaction Ten Dollars and up Consider the wear, not the price per pair. Look for the mark “Florsheim.” t ju ilit y The Florsheim Shoe Company CHICAGO, U.S.A tTEHARH HEF Miah we We LY SHIRTS and UNDERWEAR —the choice of dealers who know and wearers who care. Investigate The VINDEX Co. Balto..Md | | wife. THE SATURDAY (Continued from Page 48) whisper itself to his starved lonesome heart. John’s becoming a grocer’s clerk was a blow to Sally. It weakened her hold on Rex, she thought, just as Densie’s prestige had undeniably strengthened it. Rex could no longer regard Densie as a little slug and pass her with a patronizing nod. He found Densie a modern woman with every whit as much ingenuity as he pos- sessed, besides a courtesy and sincerity which had never been a part of his make-up. Rex accepted the transformation laugh- ingly and told Sally it was a shame, and as soon as he found something really safe to play in stocks he was going to see that John Plummer made his pile. Rex had grown older looking in the last couple of years, he was more secretive as to his business, but his money had seemed to increase magically and he gave Sally very gorgeous trappings, things way beyond even a well-to-do man’s means. They had come to an understanding a sort of “‘you’ve-got-me-there-is-no-use- trying-to-get-away”’ feeling. But Rex was no longer the adoring cavalier rejoicing in Sally’s youth and beauty. He told her bluntly when her face was badly powdered or when she should have used rouge; he criticized her clothes and made fun of her painting. He delighted to point out vari- ous couples who had married at the time he had first known Sally and were burdened with youngsters and the cares of a home, and ask Sally if she would like to push a pram and have to buy liver and bacon to cook the next morning at six A. M. Sometimes Sally would tell him very sharply that she would; she hated suave, tip-seeking menials, richly spiced, unwise food, endless extravagance and needless luxury, a veritable storybook way of living. Again she would realize that she had grown accustomed to ease, to living this sort of life; that she preferred to have no work to do, to eat and drink what she wished, wear what she liked, to have a sort of domineering influence over Rex and be pointed out as Rex Humberstone’s fiancée wherever she went. Sally thought that was all that was whispered about her, but the remarks wete no longer as kind as they had once been. They ran: “Engaged for years, has no intention of marrying anyone, just likes to show her off.”” “She is pretty, but, hasn’t she faded? Five years ago she was a beauty.” ‘‘Watch and see; he'll grow tired of her if she nags at him, and I’ve heard that she does.”” ‘“‘No, her mother can’t do a thing; she is crazy-mad over him. Odd devil, at that!” During the latter part of 1913 Densie found herself taking a still further step in public work. She became interested in mysticism, unorthodox cults; she attended their meetings and went to mediums and investigated their methods. She did not become a follower of them, but they held her attention and she was amused at their claims. A New York paper in which the senator was interested asked her to write her opinions of the various cults which had gained a foothold in America, and she began her series with a daring title— Amer- ica’s Menace—which created quite a bit of excitement and approval. The paper paid her well and gave her untold prominence. She enjoyed both. She was beginning to be proud of being known as Mrs, Densie Plummer; fame was very sweet to possess, and she caught her- self attempting the doing of artificial tricks to foster it. And though she was somewhat ashamed she did not stop the doing of them. All the while John Plummer’s face grew thin and lined, but he stoically wore his white apron and measured out spices with an unsteady hand—for he found his pana- cea in drink; and Densie, who was hardly aware of the change in him, only thought of him when it was necessary, which John took pains was as seldom as possible. Once he laid a clipping on her desk which began, “Join the Only Her Husband’s Club”; and when she returned it to him she said gravely, “I wish you would take charge of the exchange. It has grown to such an extent it really needs a man.” “Oh, then women can’t do everything?” he retorted. “*We never claimed we could; we claimed we could do things as well. Why won't you, John?” And she mentioned an ample salary. “I'd starve before I'd go to work for my " He rose abruptly, kicking away a EVENING POST footstool. ‘‘And don’t begin the old ha- rangue’’—he lifted his unsteady hand “I’m damned if I'll listen to any more of women’s wrongs.” “You've been drinking!” “Who wouldn’t?” Densie shrugged her shoulders. The coating of ice came to the rescue of the deep current. She turned to Kenneth for consolation. Kenneth regarded his mother as the only person who could do no wrong, partly because he saw the same idea re- flected in Densie’s dark blue eyes whenever she looked at him. Just after this incident another honor came to Densie: she was named chairman of the National Eugenics Committee and asked to write her experiences as a state inspector. Even Harriet was stirred by this, and advised her mother not to be a sob sister and have anything sentimental embodied with her arguments. Oddly enough, Harriet was to be one of the critics of the report. “‘Well, it’s getting too much for me,” Sally told her father that night. “I’ve a limited brain—and just now I feel as if I ought to go out and have a sensible talk with the horse.”’ The two disgruntled spent a wretched eyening indulging in semitreason- able remarks and dire prophecies, ones xxvii HUNTED into a backwater of life John turned to his health as the most inter- esting topic and recreation. He was an- noyed when Sally joked about his leakage of the heart; and when Kenneth left sam- ples of patent medicine on his dresser he felt as aggrieved and misunderstood as any woman invalid trying to convince her doc- tor as to the state of her nerves. Densie ignored the thing, which was the most cut- ting of all. She saw her husband only a few moments each day and she had unconsciously be- come like Harriet, sweetly courteous and blandly impersonal whenever she met him. Things did not affect her—the coating of ice over the deep current was thicker and more permanent. As Densie had one time ardently desired nothing but benefits for her family, labored with her hands, prayed with her soul and loved with all her heart, she now diverted the same amount of material and spiritual energy toward her own advancement and the affairs of persons outside her house. She worked for her orphans and her blind and tubercular protégés zealously; she pointed out faults and praised virtues with an equal evenness of temper; she conducted the presidency of clubs with admirable executive ability, stumped for suffrage throughout the state and made an unprecedented record, for she was neither assertive, masculine nor sentimentally emotional—just an old- fashioned fairy, as the senator said—and who could resist her? Mrs. Densie Plummer became known as the exception to the rule; no one minded when she asked for favors, because she always asked with a “please” and received with a “thank you.” The senator was proud of Densie; he boasted she was his champion find. Densie used to try to persuade herself this meant nothing out of the ordinary to have him say it, but she had to admit to her truthful self that this boyish white-haired man of fifty-four had come to mean a great deal. She thought of him before she thought of anyone else except Kenneth. And when she thought of Kenneth she always thought of James Gleason, because he had promised Densie to see that Kenneth had the West Point appointment and could begin to be a captain, his fondly cherished dream. She also thought that the senator’s influence would be good for Kenneth; he needed such an idealistic yet strong man to copy. Then she would reprove herself and remember John Plummer. Poor John was engrossed by a new eye trouble, grumbling over the white linen apron he donned every morning at eight-fifteen! When she came to this point she would try to stop her reflections about Kenneth and think of someone else— say, Harriet. She could understand Harriet’s view- point now, and she was proud of the girl, though anxious as to her health. In another two years, the senator said, he would have her appointed for the study of eugenics and sent abroad—the senator was so kind; he knew not only what to say but what to do. He had told her of his old home, hinting it was very lonesome these days and that the big rooms were waiting with their priceless March 15,1919 antiques for a mistress; that the garden was a mass of roses and an old sunken fountain bubbled away in the sunlight while dragon flies glittered about a little statue of Pan ——— Here Densie would try to collect herself again, for she was still thinking of the senator. She would turn her thoughts to Sally, and the deep mother current of anxiety and resentment would begin to stir—beautiful wasted Sally going her foolish squirrel-cage way—over and over, the eternal round of useless drives and dinners and forced pleasures. Densie’s face would grow stern as she visualized Rex—a sneaking coward, she called him—who had hypnotized her child and shut her away from everything normal, the things for which Sally had been destined. Well, the senator had guessed this worry and promised if the time came when he could be of use in handling Mr. Humber- stone he was sure not to fail. The senator had a cure for every ill, a smile to erase every frown Densie would stop again. Then she would fall to planning her new clothes, but unconsciously they would comply with the style and color the senator had said he liked best. It was impossible to stop thinking of him as the central figure in her life. She could not help but contrast him with Iris Starr—for the senator had done everything for Densie with no hope of reward, while Iris Starr flattered John and then discarded him like a worn-out glove the instant reverses were his lot. Could she have done any differently? The vista of years would stretch before her and she would often pass down it figura- tively, recalling memories and events of each one, ending way, way back at the happiest day of her life, when she made a bit of a biscuit under Ellen Porch’s kindly guidance, and looked out the window to see John astride his pony, killing lions and tigers in the kitchen garden. It bothered Densie most of the time that John held a clerk’s position. Her false sense of pride, created since her own honors and position had become of importance, chafed at the thought of her husband’s answering flat voices as to the prices of paprika and cinnamon. Yet, if she sug- gested that he retire or try again to find something more congenial, she saw that he had become a self-inflicted martyr—his heart condition and his white linen apron were to him as a monk’s horsehair shirt. He rather gloried in his downfall. Had Iris Starr stayed in his life all might have been different, but left to himself while Densie forged ahead John’s afflictions became his friends, and Densie saw that he would wear his white apron and take heart medicine until he, per se, saw fit to do otherwise. “Tt is just that you would be happier, John,” she had urged. ““You’re ashamed of me,”’ he snarled. Densie smiled, remembering the years John had been ashamed of her—that fatal New York trip, for example. “It doesn’t look dignified,”’ she assured him. ‘*The senator or your friends don’t trade at the Golden Rule,” he answered with martyred satisfaction; ‘‘and Sally and Ken never pass by on that side of the street.” Densie hesitated. “John, suppose we try to really talk it over?” “I’m all out of heart drops,’”’ he would answer, consulting a medicine stand. ‘‘I’ll have to go to the drug store right away.” And with relief Densie would allow the conversation to end. Densie earned even more money y that year by doing special investigating work for the consumers’ league—she became quite intimate with Harriet by means of letters, and Harriet found that her mother was mentioned in the circles which she re- spected as a woman of authority. Another peculiar incident happened just at this time. Instead of writing to Densie, Dean Laddbarry began writing to John, or rather John answered one of Densie’s letters as she requested, and a correspond- ence sprang up between the older man and Dean, with John telling all the news, after the fashion of a woman, and hinting of his wrongs in clumsy masculine fashion. He grew dependent on Dean’s cheer-o letters written about his business in the West and his liking for the life and the country. Occasionally, not so frequently as before, he would ask about Sally; to which John would reply briefly: ‘‘Sally’s fine; some day or other I suppose she’ll get married.” Sally never knew this. She knew Dean wrote her father, but pride refused to let (Continued on Page 53 ory eS a cn erm — Se ess: ne I el aie nati —- + — ———— on — 2 ee

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+ ie ae >. -=—e= ~- THE SATURDAY EVENING POST if i) i} | f' hd "| t | “All together —let's continu oro dection ee “tect canines U.S. Dept. of Labor Wom. B. Wilson, Secretary . : i A al axes , q How All Breads ATC B ctter | 2 S ¢ eCtterec | ag | wo Wa th the Rarsi ; C7AY St, Se Cv7AY 7 . C0 Ways, TI The INaQ1SiN | | Better Flavor: All breads are more _ Raisins supply 1560 calories of energiz- Buy at Grocers’ or Bake Shops ' palatable with the luscious raisin-flavor. ing nutriment per pound — 470 calories | The raisin—Nature’s own confection— more than steak and 840 more than eggs. Ask your grocer or baker for California Raisin acts as an appetizer. Try bread with rai- So the raisin occupies an important Bread. ‘That is a raisin bread of first-class quality j sins 1n It. manne that delicious flavor place in replacing the energy that stren- It is made of the very finest materials and } permeates ‘ - os uous romping children and hard-work- is filled with luscious Sun-M/aid Raisins. Its flavor } More Nutrition: Raisin breads, fur- ing men burn up. and food value are unsurpassed. Order a loaf today . thermore, are Ai ter Jo0ods because of the Raisins, therefore, are both good and good far It is baked fresh every day inthe week in the modern raisin § high nutrition, you. Be sure to try them in your breads ovens of your tinest local bakert i | 7 ” 7 . | alifornia Raisin Bread c c c N c | Made with SUN-MAID RAISINS Also California Raisin Pie and Victory Penny-Buns ONAN nn WIN iN Me ec ; Sun-Maid Seedless Raisins Sun-Matd Seeded Raisins Grown without seeds) Seeds Removes > } Whenever rd | Sun-Maid bra Made from Califorr est grap Packed | the most « ] , tions in a great, 1 Sunshine Plant. Ask Dealers for This, Too Grocers and bakers will supply on request lus- cious California Raisin Pie, ready-baked. This pie makes one of the finest desserts that has It is made with Sun-Maid You'll also ever been created. Raisins — juicy, tender, plump and sweet. delight in its fruity flavor CALIFORNIA ASSOCIATED RAISIN CO. Mer 9,000 Crt wer I hir vershiy I ( for 4

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST March 15,1919

Accuracy Rivals Beauty in “The Watch with the Purple Ribbon” [is oY TOUTH BEND Watches have a distinctive S/") beauty that appeals to the man who takes N\eye) pride in the appearance of his personal bal possessions I : ’ ' Notice the style appeal in the South Bend Chesterfield model shown above. The shape of the case, the design of the hands, the easily-read yet full-of-character numerals on the dial. Even the massive mahogany box in which it is encased, gives the quality impression that is an inseparable part of every watch that wears the purple But it is not alone this /o4 of quality that has brought South Bend Watches into quick favor. It is See these watches at your jeweler’s. You will know them instantly by the rich purple ribbons which they wear an unusual way of marking a very unusual watch Write us for ‘A Book of Beautiful Watches.** SOUTH BEND WATCH CO., 13 STUDEBAKER STREET, SOUTH BEND, IND For Years, Makers of Standard Railroad Watches

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double and treble within recent months. The real reason for the remarkable demand for South Bend Watches is their accuracy. The word has traveled quickly from man to man that South Bend Watches are exceptional time keepers. This is true of every South Bend Watch that you can buy. The Chesterfield Extra-Thin models with all their elegance; the 19 Jewel models, adjusted to four posi- tions, which have attained such a tremendous sale; | ‘ the railroad watches which are specified as standard | { on every railroad in America. Price for price, grade : | for grade, South Bend Watches keep to closer timing \ , standards than are usually expected or obtained. { \ ‘y y i.

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rple Ribbon

Page 55

ese — (Continued from Page 50) her read the letters or answer them. She had developed pride as her horsehair shirt, just as John had the heart leakage and the white apron. Kenneth and Densie were free from horsehair shirts, each busy living in the world and happy with each other. But to Sally—she was twenty-eight now— had come a peculiar vanity and reticence about herself and Rex Humberstone. She was neither proud nor reserved with Rex, she had bad scenes in which she stormed or upbraided him for being engaged and never intending marriage and threatened him that he dare not break off the affair—loving him all the while with that wild, starved infatuation which no one has ever been able to understand or justify! The truth was that Rex Humberstone was not afraid of Sally, but of Densie Plum- mer; he realized he r influe ance. He had seen her with Senator Gleason, whom he always avoided, and he felt it was better to weather Sally’s storms than to tell her he did not love her and let her go weeping to her modern mother’s arms. He had the uncomfortable feeling that his years of belittling Sally’s mother might play the boomerang. Besides, some of the time Sally was fair company and she was still beautiful, and he was altogether too old and too engrossed on a new and lucrative mission to take time for younger women—he had trained Sally and was content to let it so stay. For a long time the conversation between Sally and her mother had been confined to “‘when I will be home” and “when I won’t be home”’ and arguments over the honesty of a cleaning woman. Sally had become a semisecretary-housekeeper, such as she was, with Densie paying her fifty dollars a month and allowing her that for clothes and incidentals. Sally had long ago given up trying to paint for a living; she admitted THE SATURDAY now with a bitter laugh that it was a girlish notion and amounted to nothing. She told her mother’s friends and her own, what few she still had, that she preferred staying home and looking after things, and she accepted Densie’s allowance without a qualm, telling herself that the few notes she wrote or bills she paid deserved her wage. Kenneth, who was finishing school, was engaged by the senator at sixty dollars a month to do some sort of clerical work, no one really knew just what; but he went to the senator’s office every day after school hours and busied himself with various matters, chiefly answering the phone and reading the latest magazines while en- sconced in a comfortable leather chair. John had said “‘I worked for my uncle for a dollar a week when I was a boy,” when Kenneth told him of the position. “You’re growing old, daddy,” his son informed him. “ You’re beginning to talk about the past—that’s what you said about Uncle Sam Hippler. “Senators didn’t hire month office boys then.” “Didn’t they? If they knew the office boys’ bully mummies?”’ Kenneth finished in innocent triumph. At which John’s face turned a mottled color and he took an extra dose of heart drops. John’s salary was twenty dollars a week. Out of this he paid ten toward the apart- ment expenses, a drop in the bucket in reality. The rest was used for medicines and his clothes. He wore rather good- looking clothes and took a melancholy pride in his appearance. “The really sick people never show how ill they are,’’ he was wont to remark. But Densie paid all the rest of the bills, which she was glad to do under the circum- stances. sixty-dollar-a- (TO BE CONTINUED) THE RETURN OF THE SALESMAN (Continued from Page I!) to have sold ittohim. Not that I wasseeing anything of her; it upset me too terribly. Nor did I hear anything much from Lionel during this period. Just an occa- sional brief line from the Front. He never complained, but I suffered none the less, knowing how delicate and sensitive he was. And in the meanwhile I kept on selling things to his father—unceasingly and most successfully, until one day I observed that the Old Boy had at last acquired the real essence of the munitions connoisseur. Not only did nothing I had on hand please him but he developed a fancy which we were to find for him. “I want a pair of black Wedgwood vases for the front parlor mantel!” he said. ‘Have ye such a thing?” Of course we hadn’t! The idea of his making so effete a choice so soon! It was plain to see where Lionel got his adapta- bility. And I was in terror and despair at the Old Boy’s tone. When a client adopts a certain tone with a dealer the dealer must produce something interesting and produce it quickly—or he loses that client. Failing actually to bring forth a concrete and hitherto undisplayed object he must in- stantly create interest, excitement and curi- osity in the client’s mind about something which may, with great pains, be obtainable. T he latter was my recourse at this time. “I believe I have something even more interesting than black Wedgwood in view Mr. McGuire,” said I. ‘And what is that?” he asked. “Oh, never mind!” said I coyly, for I hadn’t at the moment the remotest idea of what it was to be, myself. “Oh, never you mind! I want to surprise you!” “Where will you get it?” he asked, brightening just as I had hoped he would. “Down South!” I replied, glibly impro- vising. ‘‘My curator, Mr. Wescott, and I are about to take a little trip by automobile and we will bring it back. I promise you a real treat!’ “Well, don’t let a soul see it before I do,” he said eagerly. ‘‘ Promise me that!” “Oh, Mr. McGuire, isn’t that a foregone conclusion between us?”’ I reproached him. “‘Besides, a man of your tastes would be the only person sufficiently discriminating to appreciate this!” “When will you be back?” he asked. “In about two weeks,” I told him; and he left in a high state of tension. It gets them, collecting does. It’s worse than liquor, once they are started. And then I was in a fearful quandary. I had no idea of where to go or what to look for. My statement had simply been an ordinary business white lie, and my posi- tion was delicate. Furthermore, I was feel- ing far from well. I had a headache and a sore throat and just knew a bad cold was | coming on. An automobile trip was the last thing I wanted to take, and yet since I had said I was going it would, of course, be abso- lutely necessary for me to absent myself from the shop for a couple of weeks; and to do so I might as well go somewhere. I walked home that evening feeling very | miserable, what with my mal de téte and the discouraging outlook ahead of me; and my frame of mind was not improved by encountering Madame Cartiea walking | cheerfully and healthily along with H. M. | Andrews, who, as everyone knows, is the | most important collector of ancient paint- ings in the country. Eh bien, I need not have worried about the Southern trip, for having gone to bed I stayed there two mortal weeks. In point of fact my cold turned out to be the in- fluenza, and I assure you I was trés malade! | Had I gone with my dear Lionel to face the boches on one of their antique-hunting expeditions and quarreled single handed with an entire regiment of them over the possession of, say, a bit of Rheims Cathe- dral, I could scarcely have felt more badly beaten up or more annoyed with life than after that attack. I didn’t want to recover. I felt too weak to live any longer, and there was Mr. McGuire to face empty-handed. But recover I did, malgré moi, and staggered down to the galleries on the very day that he next came in. In some ways old friends and old em- ployees are best. Eloise and Wescott were holding the fort in splendid shape when I put in my appearance, having got the Old Boy between them and told him—actually told him we had taken the Southern trip. Magnifique, was it not? But the business white lie held embarrassing things in its trail. ‘‘And where is the grand surprise you brought me?” McGuire wanted to know. “‘T am anxious to see it.”’ It was pretty awful, really, because owing to my illness there wasn’t a new thing in the shop! Wescott, Eloise and I exchanged despairing glances. Wescott laughed nerv- ously. Eloise giggled, and I cleared my throat. EVENING POST “Makes ‘er look peppy; hey Al!” “It cant help lookin’ gend~ it Effecto Auto Enamel!” ND you'll feel that same way about your car after you've given it that high-luster, 1919 appearance with Effecto! A few dollars for Effecto, with a few hours of interesting work, and you'll be glad you economized and ef the old car. You'll be surprised how absorbing the work is and how quickly it’s finished. And it’s all because Effecto is the quick-drying, easy-working, self- leveling, high-luster auto enamel that lasts longer than the finish most manu- facturers put on new Cars. It’s a real enamel that will do things that you couldn’t even begin to do with a re-named carriage paint. Very often Effecto covers in one coat There are seven live colors and the Finishing Varnish, which is a clear varnish intended for use where the old finish is not badly marred. The gnawing tooth of rust can’t Cifecto AUTO FINISHES weaken the chassis and fenders, if you keep a can of Black Effecto handy to touch up the banged and scraped spots as soon as they appear Effecto Top and Seat Dressing gives the upholstery and top the richness of a new one. ‘Top and Seat Dress- ing waterproofs and renews. From bumper to tail light, from tires she’ ll look like a new Car Send for Color Card and Name of Local Dealer Sold by paint, hardware and acces- sory dealers everywhere. Pratt & Lambert-Inc., 145 Tonawanda Street, Buffalo, N. Y. In Canada address 91 Courtwright St., Bridgeburg, Ont. to top, A PPT EM YI MADE BY THE MAKERS OF PRATT & LAMBERT VARNISHES increased. ind The Country Gentleman business all your without obligation, by W. S. Burbank Massachusetts | | Gentlemen: | | Name Address $1.00 an Hour | : EASILY City | Overtime Pay | for Spare Hours Overtime pay is double pay, but usually it isn’t permanent. We offer you overtime pay perma- nently, year in and year out. Hundreds of our spare-time representatives averaging more than a dollar an hour profit. now even higher, because our scale of payments The Saturday Evening Post, are so popular that scores of our inexperienced beginners easily obtain two subscriptions per hour, thus pring $30.00 a month extra for only one hour a day! Your 1919 Pay is Ready If you want a permanent, profitable own, mailing this couy Clip Me Off The Curtis Publishing Company 920 Independence Square, Please tell me how I can | earn overtime pay in my spare hours State EXTRA have long been Their average is has recently been The Ladies’ Home Journal growing part ulars, yon to-day secure full W.C. Adams New York Philadelphia, Pa $35.00 a Month

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54 THE SATURDAY

| He Shot the Gun | And Found that He Had the Greatest Wheat Food in Existence

Prof. A. P that each wheat kernel con- Anderson knew tained some 125 million food cells He knew that each cell con-

tained a trifle of moisture. So he said, “‘I will turn that moisture to steam, then ex- plode it. Thus I will burst every food cell so dis gest! ion can in- stantly act | It Took Years | But He Did It He finally solved the prob- lem by sealing the grains in huge

, gun hen he revolved the guns , f/! for one hour in 550 degrees of heat When he shot the guns every food cell exploded. About 125 million steam explosions oc- curred in every kernel Airy, Flaky Bubbles The grains came out shaped as they grew, but puffed to bubbles, eight times normal size. The fearful heat created a toasted nut flavor Che explosions created flimsy norsels, which melted away at a touch He had what ts recognized everywhere now as the most de liclous wheat food in the world But above all it was a whok o— rain. made wholly digestibk ( Every loo iat oo howe d

broken, and that never before was done ame method to rice Then to pellet it hominy, and created Corn Putts. Now there are three Puffed Grains, each with tts own de light And happy children are now getting about two million ch he ; daily. Don't let vour children miss their share Keep all three kinds on hand

| Puffed Wheat Puffed Rice | and Corn Puffs Each euatticmnnecth in Far West

« ’ ~. te. EO a cal \ 4) SS = Float In Milk ( p and lightly butter for hun- Float some Pufled Grain ever) ry children to eat like peanuts bow! of milk There nothing else ifter school half so inviting The Quaker Oats @mpany Sole Makers

$034)

EVENING POST “Why—the truth is, Mr. McGuire,” I began, “‘it hasn’t got here yet. In point of fact none of the things we found have yet arrived!” “So you had a good trip?” Boy. “Oh, ve ry! !”’ was chorused. “Well, it’s a funny thing you let me come in like this, wasting my time,’ he said crossly. ‘‘I’m an honest man, and I never waste time any more than I do money. When can I see this mysterious object of virtue?”’ Wescott, who was standing behind Mc- Guire, signaled frantically. I got him at once. “Why, this afternoon, if you really in- sist!’ I said nervously. ‘Really, Mr. Mc- Guire, your patience will be rewarded.” **T'll come back then, at four,”’ said he, taking his hat and stick. ‘Will that be time? | aa *Certainment!”’ I said hysterically. “In point of fact I believe your thing may be already here, waiting to be unpacked. I'll see that we have our little séance at four o'clock!” Eh bien, he went away! No sooner had the door closed than I turned upon Wescott. **What on earth do you intend to do?” I said the Old | demanded. ‘‘Where are you to get this marvelous thing to show him? He knows all the big galleries in town now, and we can't borrow from them.” “We'll have to take a taxi down to Smith’s junk shop,” said he grimly. “They must have something there!” Of all the miserable expe riences I ever underwent that ride down to the Bowery was the most wretched. Nervous? That is simply no word for it. And when we got there and looked round at the old familiar junk my heart sank anew. How I missed Lionel at that moment! How I longed for his delicate perception, his unerring in- stinct for the salable, his creative imagina- tion which could so readily pick out objects capable of being camouflaged! And as I looked and longed my eye fell upon that dim old canvas he had discarded. It was the only possible thing in sight, and I took a good look at it. It was certainly very ugly, and must have been a model, for no gentleman know- ing himself so unattractive would have been apt to order his likeness painted. The clothing was apparently in the period of the early nineteenth century, and to me the thing seemed a mere daub. But it was sufficiently dirt-encrusted and vague to be almost anything underneath from a Rem- brandt to an ancient piece of tablecloth except that the face was there. “*Where did you get this?”’ Lasked Smith. “Part of a job lot from an old boarding house on Fourteenth,” he said. “‘ You can have it for two seventy-five.” “Shall I take it?” I said to Wescott doubtfully. “It seems to be the only thing.” Wescott looked at his watch. “It’s twenty past three,” he warned. fetter buy it, though God knows what we'll say to the Old Boy! Eh bien, we did! And when Mr. Mc- Guire came in we were all prepared. The picture was on an easel in the private room where we display a single object at a time. The lights were turned in its direction, but an ancient ecclesiastical robe hung before it. An arm-chair was arranged at exactly the right angle, and Wescott lit two joss sticks to help create the proper atmosphere. We were groomed, calm and alert. And then the Old Boy was shown in. ‘All set, I see!’’ he remarked, taking off his coat in a leisurely manner and placi ing his silk hat carefully on the console. ‘‘ Wait a moment, friends.” He lit an expensive cigar and took his seat. Wescott switched on the easel light, and in perfect silence we raised the robe, disclosing the picture. For a long time nobody spoke, and then at last old man McGuire gave a low whistle. “It’s a wonder!” he said. ‘“‘ But what is it?” ‘My dear friend,” I said, “I am not going to make any comment until you do. This picture came into our possession under very peculiar circumstances; in fact, we are bound not to betray where we got it or how, save that we paid, though honestly, | far less than what I believe to be its worth. Of course obviously it looks like a portrait by—well, you see for yourself?” “It certainly does look like a - Mr. McGuire gave a significant pause and looked wisely at Wescott.

March 15,1919 “I think it does myself!” said that un- regenerate scamp, shirking naming the thing. “Do you really think it is a ——” said McGuire anxiously. “‘A—a Benjamin West?” said I, plung- ing desperately. ‘‘Mr. McGuire, I will be perfectly frank with you. I do—but I couldn’t prove it.” He drew a long breath. “*So do I believe it!” he said. Which was just what I expected. Had I said Rembrandt he would have agreed in exactly the same way. The atmosphere was perfect and, as I have said before, atmosphere is really what the dealer sells. Well, he got that in good measure. “Well,” said the Old Boy after a close scrutiny of the wretched thing under the magnifyi ing glass, ‘“‘ well, what do you want for it? Wescott and I exchanged puzzled glances. What should we say? Anything above five dollars, plus the cost of the taxi, was velvet. It was too absurd! But finally I took courage. ““Eh bien, mon ami,”’ said I, “the price must be very low, because of the uncer- tainty. Of course, as you yourself have said, there is no moral doubt. But under the circumstances I cannot ask more than five hundred dollars. Of course if we can find papers regarding it—you have a bar- gain, that is all. And I, for one, shall be glad!” He was silent for a moment, squinting at the monstrosity with a knowing air. “‘T’ll give you four hundred and fifty for it!’’ he pronounced at length; showing that Mr. McGuire had in truth become a con- noisseur, having reached the point where he bargained. He drew a check for the amount, and when he had gone Wescott and I fell upon each other’s necks and wept hysterically. The strain had been al- most too much, really! There is in the life of every dealer one dreadful period connected with any sale. And that is directly after it is made. Of course there is anxiety preceding it, but that is tinged with a sort of sporting quality, vous savez. The weeks immediately follow- ing the sale are the dreadful ones. The client may return what he has bought after, as he will say, “‘living with it” for a month or six weeks, and voila! You must accept his decision smilingly. And the game of getting rid of it has to be- gin all over again. Of course such a period followed on the heels of the Benjamin West. But our nervousness was all for nothing, and the dangerous three weeks passed uneventfully. In point of fact several months passed with- out our even seeing the Old Boy. But that was nothing. Clients always come and go, in sort of waves of enthusiasm, and this was simply a lull. Indeed, it was a dull time in every way. Absolutely nothing happened. True, the armistice was signed, necessitating our closing for a whole day. I put in the time profitably by writing a long letter to my dearest Lionel, pointing out the importance of his at once getting out of that horrid Army and immediately begin collecting while he was over there. Though I had had no word from him in months and months I felt that my instructions would simply coincide exactly with his own enthusiasm, and when I thought of his exquisite taste and unerring judgment, and the huge field awaiting him among the impoverished aris- tocracy of Belgium, France and England, not to mention what he might have legiti- mately got for nothing from Germany—I could searcely contain my joy. Indeed I recall that I actually did a pas seul as I went to drop the letter in the mail chute. La vie est si—er—er—deceptive and mis- leading, n’est-ce pas? Toosoon did I rejoice. Weeks went by and no reply came from Lionel. And then, like a bolt from le ciel bleu, came two letters—one from Lionel and one from his father. Such was my anxiety to hear from the darling boy that I opened his first, and my feelings may better be imagined than de- scribed when I say that it announced his imminent arrival! He had received a slight wound which together with his long service had decided the authorities to grant him his discharge. He might even reach me as soon as the letter, for he was already at an American camp and would be in by Thurs- day, the day following. It was very brief and to the point. But oh, how glad I was to get it! I cried—positively—with sheer happiness; and then I opened the Old Continued on Page 57) ~

——_— = = | ; ij a fe : ! ; : rs Dw i a o— — =. 4 —— eae & a)

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_— ‘ iy UJ . i ) 4 ~~ y | ny \ { ‘ se 3 ii ‘ | «@& | . = $ \ fy ’ ' j : ee. : : ( ! ee —-— ~ THE SATURDA Y EVENING POST New Style Tourabout—Refined Sport-Model HE reception already accorded this advanced Tourabout model, indicates how well we antic- ipated the public , peace time demands for new styles, improve- ments and conveniences. ‘his low, graceful, roomy Lex- ington distinctly sets the season’s standards. It is a refined type of sport- model, narrower and rangier than the average touring car, with ample room for five passengers. No previous model serves as an adequate comparison to the success achieved by this new Tourabout. When first seen it instantly at- tracts your attention and wins your admiration. This impression is lasting. You know this car will not soon be out of date in design. As to its performance, it is im- possible to fully appreciate what we mean, unless you are a Lexington owner, when we say, “it surpasses all previous Lexington models in its capacity and manner ol performance usually easy-to-drive and comfort able-to-ride-in.”’ Its light-weight construction, special springs, exclusive Moore Multiple Exhaust System (that increases power), unified frame, oil less bushings, non-metallic uni versal joints and one-finger emet Lexington Motor Company fx Connersville, Ind., U. S. A. quiet, smooth, aving of tires and fuel, and un- gency brake i ew of the im provements that | ite it ti and desira Let the Lex on dealer explain how, because ten large fact pecializing in motor car parts are athlhiated with and contribute to led to build j T le money Lexington, we are enab ‘/ 1 ; De r cat I Or write us for complete infor tion about this or other Lexinet: ‘ee pen and closed model

Page 58

56 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST

much to be said for the that set the first building applied HERE 1 closed cat standards of coach bod (wy 9 high / to motor cars LOA Pt il Peerless leader Rs noe of the industry | / There is much to be said for newe e/ ; method where they work real improve } ment hip in Closed Car con tabli hed in the early days ERLESS | Modern Lightness —With Stability ranges of power, the Peerless Closed Cars of today maintain their leadership. In substantial comfort they are not to be surpassed. they give the most dis- attained by motor In operation tinctive performance yet cars. offers the acme of economical applic a The “loafing” range soft, smooth, ethcient, tion of power.

i} | Che Peerl Closed Cars of today em ia i| body tho fundamental principles de ‘ha PCE, an lege Se eee | ° M4 < é é ‘ i | The “sporting” range releases an abun- i veloped by the me sates coach builders, dance of power for emergencies and speed i |] combined with all that constitutes genuine which few cars now possess. i! } improvement in modern methods. | ° | l ry licht —— Let the Peerless dealer show you its » result odern lightness with sta- . i bil; . roo ees ay 3 , remarkable range of performance— those | enee contrasts of opposite virtues which have i i Mounted on the famous Peerless Eight made the Peerless Two-Power-Ranger the i chassis, with its two separate and distinct distinctive motor car of the day. in| i ii 1 i ( Touring $2 ) If er $2700 1 pa r Coupé $3320 | f , n & i) » yr Ne n Lin “SU? . 0 i] l] " n without nots i} |i |} | } | | The Peerless Mo nar Co..Cleveland.Ohio | Ue Pa , I } hfe iy | 2 | | K 4 ij | = aa i i i | | 1} i}

March 15,1919 | ee 5 *9 ry) Sportin ng ‘

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- ——

Page 59

oe ., — — eee ee 7 ee me (Continued from Page 54) Boy’s note. I read it with horrified in- credulity. Comment upon it is inadequate. Read it for yourself: “Mr. KENT?. **Dear Sir: The picture you sold me asa Benjamin West, remember? I have found out about it. I’ll bein on Thursday and tell you what’s what. I have always been an honest man and hoping you are the same, ‘*Am yours truly, “JAMES MCGUIRE.” Sacré bleu! Nom d’un chien! Can you beat it? I trembled; fairly trembled. But thank le bon Dieu, Lionel would be home and he could handle his father. The vision of that wrathy old man coming into the gallery like a bull into a china shop simply made my blood run cold! On Thursday morning I dressed with particular care, partially as a welcome to the dear boy and partially because the psychology of clothes is so important in any business situation. For there was not only the Qld Boy to deal with, but Eloise. Of course Eloise would have to be fired. Much as I liked her, and old friends that we were, it was an understood thing that she was filling Lionel’s place; and now that the soldier boy was coming back she would have to give up her place to him since we could scarcely afford both salaries. I regretted being obliged to do this. But c'est la guerre! I tackled the painful problem at once upon my entry into the shop, going directly to my private office and sending for her. She came in after a few moments and closed the door behind her. Such a pretty dark slip of a thing! It did seem cruel, what I was about todo! I even hesitated, but I might have spared myself my painful emo- tion. One almost always might better in this selfish life. For Eloise took advantage of my brief pause and spoke first. “Hiram,” she said with twinkling eyes she had a horrid way of calling me by my crude given name—“ Hiram, I have some- thing important to say to you!” **Well!”’ said I, ‘‘ what is it?”’ “I’m leaving you!”’ she said. ‘“ Don’t be hurt, old friend, but it’s nearly twice the money and a step up in the business. I know you've been awfully good to me, but I’msure you will be glad tosee me advance.” “Eh bien, cava sans dire!” said I. “I er—well, of course Iam glad. Might I ask who has offered you this fine position?” **Madame Cartiea!"’ said the minx, and bowed herself out before I had a chance to recover my breath. And then, while I was still huddled in my chair, the door was filled by an enormous hulking shape, and I looked up into a vaguely familiar browned face. ‘“Well, don’t you know me, old scout?” boomed a heavy voice. ‘It’s Tom!” It was Lionel, indeed it was! Lionel grown out of all proportion. He seemed positively to have added inches to his stature, and what had once been elegant slim height with a dreop to it was now broad and firm as a young colossus. He was fairly bursting out of his civilian cloth- ing too—a smart tweed which I slowly recognized as having once hung loosely on him; and his face was slightly empurpled by the close fit of the silken collar round his great column of a throat. It was plain that a tailor would be his first requirement. But that was not all. Mere physical de- velopment was not so strange, though I confess I had not anticipated it in view of the fact that he had been wounded. But there was a spiritual change in him; er—one might say a lack of that delicate quality which he once so strongly possessed. His voice was deeper and he seemed curi- ously to fill my little office, and all at once I hated the smell of incense about it. Lionel had brought a breath of something else—I can scarcely describe what. He thrust out a brown unkept paw at me and laughed in a way which shook the Louis XV chandelier. “Aren’t you going to say how do?” he boomed. Then I came to my senses. “Lionel!” I cried. And springing to my feet I almost embraced him. “Hey! You aren’t pinning any medal on me!” he protested, thrusting me back and then shaking both my hands until I nearly wept with pain. ‘‘Gosh! but it’s good to be home!” he went on. ‘“‘Only no more of that Lionel stuff. Lionel was buried at Belleau Wood, and don’t forget it. And it was Tom McGuire came out of the hospital afterward. So remember that! THE SATURDAY But tell me how are things? Do you know I haven’t had a letter from you in ten months?” “How dreadful!” said I. “And I have | written regularly. But my boy, it is good | to see you! I have a thousand things to | tell you, the more so that you have not had ’ my letters. Eh bien, ca va sans dire.” “Say, Hank—do you know, you speak rotten French?” interrupted Lionel, as I must ever call him. “I got wise to that over there; and as a friend I want to tip you off. But never mind that now. Fire ahead about business.” “Well, we have been pretty well cleaned | out by the munitions people,” said I, ignoring his criticism for the moment. ‘‘ The Gobelins are gone, and even that set of Spanish furniture. We have one old boy W ho Here I broke off and looked at Lionel in bewilderment. How was I to tell him this new young Hercules — about his father? With the old delicate Lionel who was so fond of absinth and eighteenth-century needlework my problem would have been nil; but this bronze giant who had been given a medal for some beastly rough per- | formance or other gave rise to a very dif- | ferent situation. **Well, shoot!”’ said Tom. ‘‘ What’s eat- ing you?” ““Er—nothing. Excuse me a moment, | will you, dear boy?” I replied. For back of his head I had caught sight of Eloise making frantic signals for me to come out. Most unceremoniously and in a high state of nervous tension I obeyed, for I realized that Old Man McGuire had arrived. Eh bien, imagine the state of nerves in which I walked forth to greet him. He stood there in his greatcoat, more like a bear than ever, and like—er—so like dear Lionel, as the boy now was! At the length of the shop he seemed a veritable tower of wrath, and I experienced a weak sickly sensation as I approached him, a ghostly smile frozen on my lips. But when I drew near I saw to my amazement that he was smiling too. Furthermore, he held out to me a slip of blue paper, which as I looked at it I gradually perceived to be a check for one thousand dollars. It was made to me and bore his signature. “Mr. Kentt,” he bellowed, “I said I was an honest man and I have come to prove it. I sold that Benjamin West at such a big profit that it was only decent you should get your share. And here it is!” “But, but,” I began, automatically ac- cepting the thing, ‘‘my dear Mr. McGuire, I really ——”’ I got nofurther. Lionel had heard the Old Boy’s voice and rushed out of the office, completely upsetting a case of old jewelry on the way without even knowing he had | done it. “Dad!” he shouted; and the Old Boy took one look and held out his arms. “Och! The damn young scoundrel!” he said; and this time nobody said anything about pinning on medals. In point of fact Eloise and I turned away. “‘And you was in France, and here I’ve been buyin’ out all the fool antique shops in the city looking for ye!” said Mr. Me- Guire. ‘‘And now you're home, praise be! And a good business you’re in, my boy! I’ve bought a lot of pretty things and just sold one; and it’s so famous a picture they’ve printed it in the paper!” Eh bien, you may rest assured we all gathered round him at that and there on the cover of the Art Allowance was the reproduction of the picture from Smith’s junk shop in the Bowery! On my word! Lionel gave one look at it and howled. “But, good Lord!” he shouted. ‘‘That’s that old piece of trash I wouldn’t buy down at Smith’s. Dad, you poor infant, where did you get it?” There was a moment of distinctly awk- ward silence, during which the Old Boy turned slowly to me and gave me a look that was most unpleasant. Then he thrust his finger at me. “T bought it of him!” he said suddenly. Lionel’s brown face went nearly white and he stood over me in a way I shall not easily forget. “You little crook!”’ he said. ‘You knew! And you sold it to him! Oh, this filthy business! Thank God, I’m out of it! Cheating, lying, robbing. What—what in God’s name did you charge my poor old dad for that piece of junk?” ‘‘Four hundred and fifty,” I sputtered. “But I never told him a single lie about it; he can’t say I did. And you have told many a one yourself, Lionel!” AMAA TT EVENING POST 57 Hall QUI! HHH Good Digestion OOD digestion depends largely upon two things,—the quality of food we eat, and the manner in which we eat it. Since my original pepsin chewing gum was first introduced, through national and state legislation many laws have been en- AWHILE acted which assure the public a better qual- ity food today than ever before, but the manner in which we eat food has not been materially improved. By eating too hurriedly we fail to supply the food with saliva which is so necessary : in the first processes of digestion, and of course in this hurried eating the teeth do = not perform their proper function, which is to break up the food into small particles. The use of my original pepsin chewing gum ten minutes after each meal helps to supply the moisture which was not pro- vided at meal time, and hence tends to im- prove the digestion of those who eat too hurriedly at meals. = ALJCRLDicmaw HUET Hnddidtltt) CHICLE : AMERICAN CHICLE COMPANY = New York Cleveland Chicag Kansas City San Francia Toronto = SHAAN

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THE SATURDAY MALLOR The EARL The Hat that goes with Good Clothes ANY a man has said to himself They’re what I call ‘all-wool’ clothes. ‘*I know what good clothes are That means quality; style; long wear; economy. How am I going to tell when a hat has those things which I know I am getting when I buy ‘all-wool’ clothes?”’ The answer is simple You can't tell wool from shoddy by just looking at it. So you buy clothes with a label in them that you can trust. And you get what you want. The same with hats. You can’t tell good fur from poor. So you should look for the Mallory Trade Mark. When you know you have the utmost in quality, It remains only for you you find it, in style, in wear, in economy. to get the right Mallory for your particular head. There are many reasons why this is so, but the chief one is that the Mallory Trade Mark has existed since 1823. No mark could possibly have survived for nearly one hundred years, It meant quality then; it means quality now. without having given in fullest measure the value for which it stands. Mallory Hats are sold in your town. Go and look at Surely, a hat that American men have bought for a century is worthy of your consideration. the new Spring styles Mallory Hats are priced at $5, $6 and up. Mallory Mello-Ease (very light weight) $6, $7 and up. The @uwenade Kemah affords extra protection against the weather, and can be had only in Mallory Hats. E. A. MALLORY & SONS, Inc. 234 Fifth Avenue, New York. Factory, Danbury, Conn. EVENING POST “Don’t call me that!” hesnapped. Then he turned to his father. “Who did you sell it to?”” he demanded. **Sure, to the Widow Cartiea,’’ said the Old Boy dazedly. ‘For five thousand dol- lars!” ** Sacré Nom!” said Lionel—I mean Tom. And suddenly I began to laugh. Here was my revenge. She, the omnipotent, the wonderful, the superior Mrs. Cartiea, who took my friends and customers and sales- people and hardly bowed to me on the street—she had paid five thousand dol- lars for a two-dollar-and-seventy-five-cent | painting, and committed herself by per- mitting the Art Allowance to reproduce it! It was wonderful, perfect! Suddenly our young Hercules was shaking me by the shoulders, and at his words my mirth came to an abrupt end. “Cut that!” hesaid. “It was bad enough | to cheat my old man, but, by heaven, she is not going to be fooled! We are all going straight over there and confess, do you get me? Confess! She is as straight as a die. That’s why she is so much more successful than we have ever been. And she’ll an- nounce the fraud like a lady and take her medicine. And you and dad will fork up her loss. Come on, we are going now!” Never, no, never shall I forget that night- mare of atrip. It did not seem like crossing the street. It was like an ocean voyage, and it apparently occupied zons of time. So did our wait in the enormous sparsely furnished reception room of the Van Lippe mansion while a man in livery inquired if Madame Cartiea could see us. Tom paced the floor like a caged lion and his father sat with his silk hat on his knee muttering “Well, well, praise be!’ over and over. Then at length the door opened to admit the widow. She was splendidly and quietly gowned, as ever, and her stately blond beauty was as poised—until she caught sight of Lionel. | Then she gave a little start and a wave of | color swept her face, passing immediately | and leaving her more pale than before. “So you are back!” she said. “I hear you were decorated. I congratulate you.” March 15,1919 “Thank you!” said Tom. “But this is not a social call, Mrs. Cartiea. A very ter- rible thing has happened. Eighteen months ago I would not have cared—I might even have laughed. But now it seems very bad to me, as many things in what was my business are going to seem, I am afraid, and we are here to repair the damage done as best we can. Mrs. Cartiea, you have been cheated. That portrait you bought from dad and which he bought from Kentt is a fake. It came from Smith’s junk shop, and cost Kentt two dollars and seventy-five cents. “Tt’s a worthless old thing which I have seen kicking about there for years.” **And you have all come over to tell me this because you knew I would not inten- tionally deceive my public?” she asked quietly. Tom nodded. **And it was you who insisted on telling me?” she went on, looking into his eyes. “Yes,” said Tom. She drew a long breath and smiled. “‘T am glad!” she said. “I am'very glad you did such a thing. But to relieve your minds let me tell you that the portrait is genuine. It happens to be my own great- grandfather John Bolt, and hung over our dining-room mantel all my childhood. When we grew so poor that mamma was obliged to sell everything she didn’t know enough to save it. I had been looking for it for years!” It was Lionel’s turn to gasp. They looked at each other a long time. “‘I say, will you dine with me?” he asked suddenly. At once her atmosphere changed. She seemed almost visibly to retreat. “Not to-night!” she said. “I can’t. I have a client. But some other time—per- haps!” And so with no more ado we found our- selves upon the street. I looked anxiously at Lionel, and Lionel looked anxiously at me. Then he took his father’s arm on one side and mine on the other. I say, old sport!” said he nervously. “Is 9” New York dry, or can we get a suissess? ” eS aT a | i. es . ii » | _ ii" ts i iy I it~) Vi

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 59 AVNTHNHY HUSANUANAQUONSHTVAHORVALVVAAYAVUTHERRNIVOITUNOUSIVONSHIVAGS}UHSHVOHSSVDNBVORLVVORALUOOGVOOAGSOOPGETOHSHOAAOOOAUONOSHSHTORETTTOOLHUAOHOOROHOUROLGWORHUEUHHUOVNHHOOUSTOMHHTOANUOAUUIHI MM MT Hi NNHTNSHUTLRH MTN r PAM MA A ili How $1,500 i ted in “85% M la” ‘fi Sav ed 33 carloads of coal a year— ; HIS striking picture shows the lofty steam- Or, in Dollars—with coal at only $5.00 a ¥ expansion bend of the great out-door steam ton, that saving amounts to no less than $6,570 pipe-line of the Gulf States Steel Company a year in coal, while the outlay for installation & plant at Alabama City, Alabama was /ess than $1,500 The line is 750 feet long and 22 inches in sig : Arrest the Invisible Thief of Coal diameter. It carries 150 Ibs. of steam. It is in- sulated with “"85% Magnesia’ pipe-covering. That was under the hot sun of Alabama, | On that conl-cavinis insiiation hanes 0 veal where the condensation by radiation is consid | interesting story. erably less than in northern zones. For in all ( pipe lines and boile rs, everyw here, housed as : Before and After well as exposed, the condensation of steam due > & his plant started operations before the “"85 % to radiation is the merciless thief of coal agnesii ove ‘re Vhile the ' 1 , ‘ ignesia’’ coverings were put on. While th hat applies to all power-plants, to all heat- : pipes were bare, careful tests showed that so ae r outfits from the biggest buildings to modest much steam was being condensed that the coal Ati ul wastage amounted to 6.6 pounds per minute But after the pipes were insulated with ‘5 The Goodly Fellowship of Users Magnesia’’ the \ - WwW ; ‘dt ; , ns ? he coal wastage was reduced to That is why the U. S. Navy has specified 6 pounds per minute. n other word biog » ' | ; pe pe ' . ; In othe oe 5 Magnesia” for its Fleet since 1888, and xach > pounds of coal nt fe were saved ] i wactly J pounds of dys - “he se ; why the U. S. Shipping Board followed suit ' by covering this pipe with SIV Magnesia,’’ j ; ering t vit Yo Magnesia, I hat is why all our powerful locomotives are ’ Le 5 ‘very minute in the day, 3¢ ‘ n the year “ ” a every ; " ed 7, »5 days i he yea > lagged with it under their iron jackets r steel plant t keep up Y ay ' j for steel plants must keep up full steam da [hat is why central-stations, the greatest power ;~* and night the year round. \ ; ' 4 plants and innumerable smaller plants, the bi ' Five pounds a minute (the coal loss which vest hotels, sky-scrapers, public buildings and i was stopped) equals 1314 TONS of coal a thousands of residences are protected by it year—or within six tons of 33 CARLOADS Che goodly fellowship of users of “8590 M all America embraces nesia at standard 40 tons each ' | ‘ = | Get complete information 1 i on “85% Magnesia” — A We will send you on reque Booklet, “Let ‘8 ai fee a f also Table of Monthly Coal Saving in Dollars i Cents by Use of “85% Magne | worked out by the Mellon Institut . f Ind erie R ea ” 5a : x Bescineaticn for ci ntific apy MAGNESIA ASSOCIATION of AMERICA - . P ° > 721 Bulletin Bldg. Philadelphia, Penna. f EXECUTIVE COMMITTEE, Wm. A. Macan, Chairman f \ Gtorge D. Crabbs . The Philip Carey Co Cincinnati, Ohi Alvin M. Ehret Ehret Magnesia Mig. Co Valley Forge, Penna ] J. R. Swit ese The Franklin Mig. Co Franklin, Penna R.V. Mattison, Jr Keasbey & Mattison Co Ambler, Penna ‘ ( 19] WwiA A fon Y { “ VWF f , i . ‘

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GO THE SATURDAY EVENING POST LOOKING BACKWARD (Concluded from Page 19) Hosiery for all the Family— Long-Wearing and Good-Looking You will really be surprised at the excep- tionally long wear of Durable-DURHAM. And it is so thoroughly comfortable and good-looking that every member of the family will enjoy the wearing. [he carefully woven yarns, so thoroughly reinforced at points of hardest wear, will stand the hardest wear. The Durham dyes prevent fading or turning green alter weal ing and washing. These qualities in stockings mean true economy and, besides, Durable-DURHAM Hosiery is surprisingly reasonable in price, selling at 20c to 50c a pair. DURABLE DURHAM HOSIERY FOR MEN, WOMEN AND CHILDREN Made Strongest Where the Wear is Hardest There are styles for every season of the year, for work, dress or play and the same honest weanng The tops are wide legs are full length; sizes are 2ccurately value is woven into every pair. | and elastic ‘ soles and toes are smooth, seamless and even. You should be able to buy DurableeDURHAM If you do not find it, | marked; Hosiery at any dealer's. wnte to our Sales Department at 88 Leonard Street, New York, and we will see that you are supplied. A free DURHAM styles will be mailed upon request. Catalog showing the many Durabie- DURHAM HOSIERY MILLS, Durham, N. C. 88 Leonard Street, New York Durable-DURHAM Hosiery is not a product of child labor. Industrial conditions under supervision of experts trained in U.S. Government courses on management. Average working day is 8 hours and 15 minutes. Two of the many fine values in Durable- DURHAM Hosiery. CARROLINA A silk mercerized outing of very hne appearance an wearing quality, Regular and out-sizes. Anti-run stitch to prevent thread run- ning down leg, high spliced heels, special stitch knit in foot and ankle to hold shape, extra toe guard splic ing. Price 50c pair TAR HEEL A medium weight sock with 3-thread, stron: ly re- inforced heels rm 4 toes Elastic ribbed top securely knit on, Feet toes are smooth, seamless and even. Black, tan and white Price 20c pair No person under | 4 years is employed. employment | breach | | | | to get up the river. | better,” The provost marshal said in reply: “Of course any friend of yours can have what- ever he wants of me.”” And, turning to me, continued: ‘‘Come round to the office to- morrow morning.” Bravo! That was all I required. Then I thanked my fairy godmother and started to withdraw. “Oh, no,” she said; “General Dana would not forgive me if I let you go without his seeing you. He will be here presently.” I was not so sure about that. I sat down rather crestfallen and ill at ease. Then the miracle happened. Mamie and Charley had come down. With them a lovely girl, newly arrived from the East. “You are a pianist,” cried Mrs. Dana. “We have a new piano. Girls, take him to the music room and have him play for us.” Saved! If ever a poor devil played for his life, I did. My only fear was that the black bombazine cloth with which my aunt had covered my gray uniform might make a somewhere. But the light and warmth and music—the girls bending over the piano—carried me quite away. All « a sudden the illusion was dispelled. Mrs. Dana ran in and said: “The general is here—remembers you perfectly. Come and see him, Mr. Watter- man.” He stood by a table, tall, sardonic, and as I approached he put out his hand and said: “You have grown a bit since I saw you last. But I remember you very well asa lad. How did you leave my friend Forrest?” I was about making some awkward reply, when, the room already filling up, he | said: “We have some friends for supper. I am glad you are here. Mamie, my daughter, take Mr. Watterson to the table!” Lord! That supper! Canvasback! Ter- rapin! Champagne! The general had seated me at his right. Somewhere toward the close those expressive gray eyes looked at me keenly, and over his wine glass he said: “T think I understand this. You want You want to see your mother. Have you money enough to carry you through? If you have not don’t hesi- tate, for whatever you need I will gladly let you have.” I thanked him. I had quite enough. All was well. We had more music and some dancing. At a late hour he called the provost marshal. **Mehan,” said he, “‘take this dangerous young rebel round to the hotel, register him as Smith, Brown, or something, and send him with a pass up the river by the first steamer.”’ I was in luck, was I not? iv HAD one other adventure during the war that may be worth telling. It was in 1862. Forrest took it into his inexpe- rienced fighting head to make a cavalry attack upon a Federal stockade, and, repulsed with considerable loss, the com- mand had to disperse—there were not more than two hundred of us—in order to escape capture by the newly arrived reénforce- ments that swarmed about. We were to rendezvous later at a certain point. Hav- ing some time to spare and being near the family homestead at Beechgrove, I put in there. It was midnight when I reached my destination. I had been erroneously in- formed that the Union Army was on the retreat—quite gone from the neighborhood; and next day, believing the coast was clear, I donned a summer suit and with a neigh- bor boy who had been wounded at Shiloh and invalided home, rode over to visit some March 15,1919 young ladies. We had scarcely been wel- comed and were taking a glass of wine when, looking across the lawn, we saw that the place was being surrounded by a body of bluecoats. The story of their departure had been a cruel mistake. They were by no means all gone. There was no chance of escape. We were placed in a hollow square and marched across country into camp. Before we got there I had ascertained that they were Indianians, and I was further led rightly to surmise that they were what we called in 1860 Douglas Democrats. My companion, a husky fellow, who looked every inch a soldier, was first ques- tioned by the colonel in command. His ex- amination was brief. He said he was as good a rebel as lived, that he was only waiting for his wound to heal to get back into the Confederate Army, and that if they wanted to hang him for a spy to go ahead. I was aghast. It was not he that was in danger of hanging, but myself, a staff officer in citizen’s apparel within the enemy’s lines. The colonel turned to me. With what I took for a sneer he said: “‘T suppose you are a good Union man? It offered me a chance. “That depends upon what you call a good Union man,” I answered. “I used to be a very good Union man—a Douglas Democrat—and I am not conscious of having changed my political opinions.” That softened him and we had an old- fashioned, friendly talk about the situation, in which I kept the Douglas Democratic end of it well to the front. He, too, had been a Douglas Democrat. I soon saw that it was my companion and not myself whom they were after. Presently Colonel Shook, that being the commandant’s name, went into the adjacent stockade and the boys about began to be very hearty and sym- pathetic. I made them a regular Douglas Democratic speech. They brought some “‘red licker’”’ and I asked for some sugar for a toddy, not failing to cite the familiar Sut L ovingood saying that “‘there were about sixteen round the door who said they'd take sugar in their’n.” The drink warmed me to my work, made me quicker, if not bolder, in invention. Then the colonel not reappearing as soon as I hoped he would, for my fear was the wires, I went to him. “Colonel Shook,” I said, “you need not bother about this friend -¥ mine. He has no real idea of returning to the Confederate service. He is teaching school over here at Beechgrove and is engaged to be married to one of the girls. If you carry him off a prisoner he will be exchanged back into the fighting line, and we make nothing by it. There is a hot luncheon waiting for us at the ——’s. Leave him to me and I will be answerable.”” Then I left him. Directly he came out and said: “I may be doing wrong, and don’t feel entirely sure of my ground, but I am going to let you gentlemen go.” We thanked him and made off amid the cheery good-bys of the bluecoats. No lunch for us. We got to our horses, rode away, and that night I was at our rendezvous to tell the tale to those of my comrades who had arrived before me. Colonel Shook and I met after the war at a Grand Army reunion where I was billed to speak and to which he introduced me, relating the incident and saying among other things: “‘I do believe that when he told me near Wartrace that day twenty years ago that he was a good Union man he told at least half the truth.” Editor’s Note—This is the third of a series of Colonel Watterson’s reminiscences. The fourth will appear in an early issue. 9” THE FILM OF FATE (Continued from Page 7) “Oh, rot! Really, Mr. Hunt, you are too absurd! Plenty of my friends aren’t mar- ried and don’ t intend to be,” she would in- form him. “‘ They have a much better time as they are!” “I guess the less said about that the he would answer briefly. “ And just what do you mean by that?” “I’ve nothing more to say. No, ma’am.” She would walk to her tent with dignity and compose speeches witheringly ironical before she slept, but he never heard them. At last the job was done. The scattered bits, so jerky, so unrelated, which Mr. Ficken assured her would fit neatly into a smoothly flowing story, were ready to be assembled, and in a burst of lollipops and cheering they left the camp—a nearly dis- organized community. “Good-by, girls; keep off the stage!” Lieutenant Hunt called cheerily, turning (Concluded on Page 63) ee

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7 Se ~ eae THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 61 nner EXTRA TESTED To Yield Your Money’s Worth In Miles HERE is only one right way to buy tires—on the strict basis of character. Then you run no risk. You're sure to get your money’s worth in miles. By the thousands, people are turning to Racine Extra Tested Tires. More and more they realize that ‘Extra Tested’’ is the assurance of true tire character. They know that the extra care in Racine Rubber Company factories gives them extra wear, whether they choose the “Country Road’’ or the ‘“* Multi-Mile Cord.” INOS? oo “COUNTRY ROAD” & “MULTI- MILE” CORD TIRES Racine Tires are carefully extra tested, step by step through every stage in manufacture. Fabric and rubber are painstakingly selected, inspected, then given all the Racine Extra Tests. Imperfections simply aval can’t slip by. Extra value is certain in each tire. Racine ‘‘Country Road” Tires are specially constructed, as the name implies, for country road service. They have the extra endurance that hard usage demands. Racine ‘“‘Multi-Mile’’ Cord Tires are the peak of cord tire value Thousands of rubber-livened cords impart a forward spring and permit flexibility resulting in far greater mileage. It will pay you to do business with dealers who sell these Extra Tested Tires ane EY YY, ADD CPT ai, eS 7 For Your Own Protection Be Certain Every Racine Tire You Buy Bears The Name Racine RACINE RUBBER COMPANY eee RACINE, WISCONSIN Road 5,000 Mile Write for the Informative Book, “Extra Tests and Extra Miles” Guarantee

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Union Mad Ver Blue Buckle O VERYTHING that work-comfort and long service Can mean is yours to command in Blue Buckle OverAlls—America’s foremost work garment! Cut oversize, they have generous roominess that wins you instantly. In Blue Buckles you get the best-wearing indigo blue denim, guaranteed unbreakable seams, solid reinforced back band that makes ripping impossible, real brass fittings and a fly that is cut into the garment, not separate and sewed on! Blue Buckle coats have free-sway raglan sleeves! Whether you are an engineer, mechanic, far- mer, home-chore-man or a motorist, you certainly need the work satisfaction that Blue Buckle OverAlls will present you every time you slip into a pair right over your street clothes! Merchants who have not yet had an oppor tunity to sell Blue Buckle OverAlls should write at once for detailed information Kindly send jobbers name and address Jobbers OverAll Co., Inc. Lynchburg, Va. Largest Manufacturers of Union Made Overalls Exclusively in the World Selling Agents—~W.T. Stewart Dept., Leonard Sales Company, 64 Leonard Street, New York March 15,1919 Alls \ ‘ es — in ae ~- ee , a —-

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| Se Concluded from Page 60) with a defiant glance from his seat beside the chauffeur to meet Fifi’s eyes. ““Why does he look at me like that?” she wondered to herself, and later, at their lunch in some noisy wayside inn, she mar- veled still more at his stiff apology. “‘T shouldn’t have said what I did back there,” he said abruptly. ‘“‘But I meant it—before God, I meant it! And I can’t help it. So you ean take it or leave it.” “‘T haven’t the least idea what you mean, Mr. Hunt,” she answered with her most insolent Amory intonation. ““T guess you know well enough. I'll be saying good-by here. I’m sorry we haven't been better friends, Miss Amory, honest I am. But my ideas are different.” She glanced up at his tall, slim, young stiffness from under her bobbed hair. ‘When you’ve been longer in the East, lieutenant, you'll learn that we don’t pick our friends in quite—quite such a casual way,” she drawled smoothly. ““You might do worse,” he said. “‘Good- by.” Alone with Ficken and the photographer, a great and nervous fatigue caught her and her throat swelled and ached. She put her face against the dingy cushions and cried quietly from Yonkers to the Little Sisters’ headquarters. Don’t you be worried about the film stuff, Miss Amory,” the director reassured her; “‘it’s only the stills that may be rotten. That young Kansas doughboy mixed those plates for fair, I’m just about certain. He's good in some ways, but I made the mistake of my life not to _ me age my own camera on the stills. He thinks he knows it all, that boy!”’ “‘He certainly does,” said Fifi. “I'll bring the young ladies up to the studio to- morrow. Have you your list of every- thing?” ‘Kitchen set,”’ he shot at her, “‘bed for invalid, sheets, and so forth; poor cottage interior; got to hunt round for outside house, somewhere in the Bronx; report to- morrow on that; baby—any particular age, did you say? bathtub; piano; soldier, non- comr-issioned officer’s uniform; turkey, ready for stuffing; mother, in widow’s cos- tume. Have ’em all up there at eleven sharp. Don’t let your débutantes make up. Absolutely unnecessary.” “I'm afraid I can’t do much about that,” said Fifi with a wan smile; “but I'll do the best I can for you, Mr. Ficken.” She was bitterly sorry she had ever gone into the thing, which is a state of mind common at one time or another to all up- lifters. Nor was her disillusionment re- lieved by the contingent of Little Sisters sent her from headquarters on the morrow. “Dear Fi,’’ wrote her best friend on the Board, whose presence she had counted upon to share any amusement there might be in the day, “we have decided to send up for the picture five or six girls I don’t think you've ever met. They’re a little bit sore about their local branches’ not getting any notice, and we thought this would be a fine way to square them, do you see? Leila Betts is the only one from our crowd. I know you and she don’t hit it off very well, but Mr. Betts has offered to give us a big benefit performance of the film in his vil- lage casino and serve tea to the entire audience, so please put up with her. They’re all crazy about it. It must be too exciting for words. Best love.” Fifi grinned stoically. Mr. Ficken had promised to work it all into one day. When they arrived at the great barnlike studio, the Little Sisters, giggling hysteri- cally in their terra-cotta capes as they dis- missed their chauffeurs for the day, the first shock of their professional careers awaited them. Instead of the humble soldier's cot- tage they had expected to find awaiting their sisterly ministrations, a lordly town house of the decorative period, consecrated to the moving picture, filled two-thirds of the place. A butler, a husband and a French maid posed under great clustered lights amid the tapestries and statuary of the wealthy screen family; as the butler re- sembled Macbeth and the maid was clearly a chorus girl and the husband looked like nothing in the world but a moving-picture star, the initiated might readily conclude that this was a successful society drama. The lights hissed and roared; the car- penter pounded and built; the directors took off their coats and yelled at each other and every body else; under the great signs — read “No smoking!” the cast as- sembled and lit one cigarette from another, ig the unextinguished ends on the rs THE SATURDAY floor. And in an obscure corner Ethel, the moving-picture baby, wailed unceas- ingly For years afterward, whenever anything that resembled the hiss and roar of those terrible lights sounded near her, Fifi in- stinctively listened for the voice of Ethel. “‘ Always what you may expect up here,” Ficken yelled at them. ‘‘ Here’s our date all made, and what do we get? They have an eighty-thousand-dollar picture on here and naturally they can’t take it down. Been at it all night. Through to-morrow, they swear. Suppose we go out with the car and hunt up our e xterior somewhere. Get that out of the way. So they all packed themselves into the car somehow and rode about for what seemed like endless hours, searching for the humble, neglected cottage of Fifi’s scenario One would have supposed it a fairly easy goal, but here the artistic temperament of Mr. Ficken rose and asserted itself incred- ibly. House after house was suggested to him only to be scornfully discarded. The Little Sisters giggled. Somewhere round Pelham Bay he con- sulted his watch. We got room for one more?” he in- quired. “‘I asked Kansas to turn up about lunch time for the stills. Just go to that subway that’s somewhere round here, will you, Henry? He'll be there, I hope.” Fifi drew a quick, uneven breath. So he was coming again, after all! It would be amusing to hear his comments on the Little Sisters. ‘It’s a lovely day for a ride, anyway,” she said good-naturedly to Leila Betts. At the subway entrance Mr. Hunt stood at ease, surveying the loaded car conde- scendingly. “All you need is a few passengers!”’ he suggested. “‘Morning, Miss Amory! Hope you re well?” He stood on the running board and to- tally ignored the young ladies, exchanging professional amenities with the director. F ifi felt immensely entertained and threw in a joking comment now and then. It all seemed rather a lark again, and the Little Sisters were not so bad, after all. Some obscure inspiration led Mr. Ficken at last to select for his exterior a neat, pros- perous little cottage within two miles of the studio, and he and his mild, middle-aged assistant proceeded to busy themselves at dismantling and untidying it, so to speak, in which process they collected loads of as- sorted rubbish and dumped them about in conspicuous places, so that the angels of mercy and reconstruction in the terra-cotta capes and aviators’ caps could have a field for their regenerative labors. While they did this Fifi and Mr. Hunt talked in low tones on the steps of the side porch, and the Little Sisters adjusted the angle of their caps and powdered their little noses. “Isn’t that terrible!”’ said Kansas in a concentrated sort of way. ““What?”’ she asked innocently. ‘*What?’ Oh, Lord, I suppose it seems little enough to you-—I forgot,” he mut- tered. ‘“‘But to me—I tell you, Miss Am- ory, if I had a sister and she did that — well, I’d wash her face for her, and in a way she wouldn’ t forget in a hurry! r “How funny you are!” she said gently “Why, that’s nothing, really, Mr. Hunt. All girls do that. If you could see some of them, now!” “T’ll bet there’s one there that doesn’t,” he answered obstinately; ‘‘that lovely one with the yellow hair. She’s a peach, if there ever was one, she is! I wouldn’t mind meet- ing her. You can see what a lovely, inno- cent girl she is, all right.” And just here a curious, painful thing happened to Fifi. Inside her something tightened suddenly, squeezed together as if a hand had grasped it. It cut her breath off, whatever it was, and hurt her abominably. Her lips tightened and a slow, unbecoming red crept up to her cheek bones, flooding out the little crimson disks of excitement that betray all Crownlanders, and that Mr. Hunt supposed to be artificial. “You think so?”’ she said lightly. ‘‘ Dear, dear! I say, Leila, come here a minute, — you?” Leila Betts, whom Nature had provided with a skin like milk, but who preferred, not entirely unreasonably, to look like a Killarney rose, hastened willingly to the side porch. “Anything I can do?” she asked, gazing with a kindly, open, somewhat childish stare at the tall, well-poised young gentle- man. EVENING POST ‘Have you got your vanity box witt you?” said Fifi easily “Surest thing you know,” Miss Betts re turned good-naturedly, holding out a little silver case, “Take the pale pink if you like; it’s my own special, and I don’t often lend it. This dust is awful.” “Thanks,” said Fifi; “I onlywanted some powder.” “That isn’t the lip stick on the left, so don’t try it; it’s my cigarette holder,”’ Miss Betts volunteered, ‘but I left my case in the car, worse luck!” ‘Let me present Mr. Hunt, Miss Betts,” Fifi remarked smoothly. “‘I must run away and see how far Mr. Ficken has got. I'll leave you to entertain Mr. Hunt, Leila; he directs the still pictures.” ‘I’m sorry, but I have to go,” inter- rupted the Kansan gruffly, and stretched his long legs toward the group round the camera. Leila stared. “A bit abrupt, your young friend?” she suggested. “They're a funny lot,” said Fifi, and turned away. “What a pig! What a beast I am!” she muttered to herself. ‘‘Why—why did I do that? I wish I’d never seen him!” She stumbled off behind the house, and the reina little woodshed he stood, smok ing furiously. ‘‘A nice set!” he muttered at her, glowering; ‘“‘there’s not much to choose between you! Actress or society girl, you're all the same thing.” “What do you mean? Who's an ac- tress?’’ she demanded, as roughly as he ‘You are, aren’t you?” he asked ‘How do you dare say such a thing! Of course I’m not an actress. None of us are.” “You're not?” he cried, his whole face softening. ‘“ Honest?” Then, as she shook her head wonder ingly: “Wash that paint off your face, then! he stormed, and took a step toward her ‘Paint?” she cried angrily; “what paint? Are you crazy? I never paint!” And as furious as he, she drew out her handkerchief, scrubbed it over her crimson cheeks and lips and held it, tre mbling, out to him. “There!” she cried. He took her hand with the piece of linen in it and appeared to study it. An unbear- able rage possessed her, “Oh!” she gasped, and lifted her hand and slapped his bended cheek full and fair “Ah, would you?” he m uttered. “Vou little spitfire! I'll show you! = And pressing her arms helpless to her sides with one of his, he turned her fac« round and kissed her mouth And then, and then only, did Fifi under stand what had happened to her, and her profe ssor and her poetry and her dramatics 111 melted out of her life forever. On the next day a tall and reasonably handsome young officer in freshly pressed khaki stood in her father’s library. ‘This is Lieutenant Hunt, papa, from Kansas, but I’m going to marry him just the same,” Fifi said. She had a coat and skirt and a silk shirtwaist on, because he liked them better, and the ends of her short hair were pinned in, somehow, so you would never have guessed it was short. Mr. Amory looked at them with interest “Well, well!” he remarked genially, ‘“‘and what’s the matter with Kansas? I’m charmed to make your acquaintance, lieu tenant!” You see, it was nothing like the books He neither curle nd his lip scornfully nor rang for the butler to kick the young man dow1 stairs. Instead, he told that uninterested menial to bring some whisky and soda. Nor was Mrs. Amory any more what you would have supposed. She had a long tal! with Mr. Hunt, pronounced him a fine, intelligent young fellow, and expressed the conviction that he could manage Fifi if anybody could. And his father wes not a crusty old farmer, but the president of a bank in Kansas City; and he himself could grow up in the bank, if he liked, but he didn’t like, because he was an inventor and interested Mr. Amory immensely, the first hour, with an account of an entirely new noninflammable film he had invented, which was going to revolutionize the motion-picture industry Indeed, he became highly popular with the entire family, and Patsy flirted shame lessly with him, which canal him horribly, and Pips wanted to model h head, for the sake of the sittings But Fifi loved him as she had never loved anything on earth, and prayed every night on her knees that she might make | good wif which, so far as I know, she did “Here’ san Extra $50! “T’m making re Ve I've been eating | it ecret until pay day came. I've been promoted with ; increase of $50 a month And the fir extra money is you! Just a little r ward for urging me to study at he Che boss says my spare time training ha made me a valuable man to the firm and there's more money con y soon. We're starting up Easy Street, Grace, thanks to you and the I. ¢ hy I ‘ - , ‘ ‘ nik ~ \ t t ar I work | t x Mw t K rea k w~ \ tr r that w w ny rh \ ! I 4 . uw r f i ' ‘ I , t iw I 100,000 Andt , ady and anx “ Het “ t } inse “ I ul eee enn ee TEAR OUT HERE - - - - ~~ - ~~ INTERNATIONAL CORRESPONDENCE SCHOOLS BOX 3987, SCRANTON, PA Explain, wit! t obligating me, how : “tT n, or in the subject, before w i I x }ELECTRICAL ENGINEER SALESMANSHIP } Electric Lighting and Rys ADVERTISING Electric Wiring Window Trimmer Soe aareee. enees w Card Write Painter Railroad Traine epho {Me HANIC AL ‘ENGINEER ] Mechanical Drafteman STRATING 1M e Shop Practice Carte loolmaker BOOKKEEPE kK }Gas Engine Operating Seonegras her Typist Epekde. ENGINEER ert. Pub otant veying and Mapping | TRAFFIC ANAGES r ENG'R Railway Accour t Commercial Law GOOD ENGLISH b sip Dralteman le t ARCHITECT School Subjects Contractor and Builder N hematics Ar ectural Draftema ( St RviC L ‘ rete ro jer 1 Railw way M Structu En AUTOMOBILE OPERATING PLUMBING AN S HEATING 1 eviests Sheet Metal Worker Textile Overseer or Supt CHEMIST ' GRICULTURE Poultry Raising ert ee = a (- —bends metal like paper | ~pulls rustiest nails or tac is? a —turns balkiest nut, bolt or rivet? cuts wire and nails like string? —mends most everything / Just one tool does all. The tool you get a grip with — | UTICA PLIERS Different sizes and styles for different ; \ poses, but all sold with this U/tica Guarar If you're not satished with any’; | of Utica Pliers, return them and get a use them the year r Write for “ Pler P. ters Tells how to fix th e. UTICA DROP FORGE & TOOL CO Utica, N.Y.

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64 Delicious-Corrective Bran Muffins HilsburysHealth Bran THE SATURDAY EVENING POST bread, cookies, etc., made according to the special recipes on the Pillsbury’s Health Bran package, instantly appeal to all appetites. Their rich, nutlike flavor and natu- ral laxative effect commend them to a place in the daily diet of every home. pra golden brown bran mufhns, Pillsbury’s Health Bran is milled especially for human consumption. Its extra large, clean, ster- ilized flakes supply the roughage necessary to promote normal digestive action. Physicians recommend it. Insist upon Pillsbury’s—the Health Bran made by the millers of Pillsbury’s Best Flour. Packed in sanitary airtight cartons At Your Grocers PILLSBURY FLOUR MILLS COMPANY MINNEAPOLIS, MINN. March 15,1919 \% 4 My } | | } i CS Sa ; va i 4 i) ° ro

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een aw THE SATURDAY RAISING MONEY BY THE BILLION FOR CHARITY Continued from Page 8 a third and new idea, the war chest. All three are closely related and all three are engines of formidable and really awe- inspiring power in extracting vast sums of money with efficiency and dispatch from large portions of the population. Just as a completely victorious army mops up a few opposing stragglers so these powerful engines of money harvesting may be used literally to annihilate opposition and indifference. It goes without saying therefore that the object, the movement, must be based on fairness, equity and jus tice. It must be not only worthy but it must appeal to the sympathies of a large proportion of the people. It must be a really great object. And it can be a really great object only when the money raisers are able to say: ‘‘Give to your university or hospital or church or to the development of your city—not to ours.” So, too, the money must be wisely spent or its sources will suddenly and mysteri ously dry up. Unless really sold on the use to which his money is put the giver, like all other animals, will develop his “‘ protective behavior.” ‘Because the money came so easily in wartime,”’ says one of the country’s leading authorities on the subject, “‘there is danger that the moneyed men in many cities are going to feel that all they need to do is to maintain the old wartime organization and practically forget the necessity of carefully considering what is to be done with the money after it is got. If they do make this mistake they will be amazed to find sud- denly how hard it is to get the money again. After all the giver is a pretty canny person who finally is interested in results But assuming that the money will be wisely spent for a noble and inspiring pur- pose, of which there is no lack, we now have in the hands of the leading men of every community a wonderfully developed method and technic of separating folks from their dough. The bulk of the work, it is understood, must be done by volunteers, by the leading business men in each com- munity. But if the campaign is of any size there should usually be a professional or semiprofessional paid campaign manager in the background. He does not actually collect money or take, as the old-fashioned professional solicitor did, an outrageous rake-off. He does not touch the money at all. He merely plans, and directs to an ex- tent, the work of the volunteers The Professional Money Raisers These professional money raisers, or cam- paign managers, have been developed by the hundred during the war. They came into the work through different channels. Some were Y. M. C. A. secretaries, and had their first experience in trying to obtain funds for new association buildings. Many others were newspaper, advertising and publicity men. One of the most experi- enced in this group was formerly managing editor and later editor of one of the largest New York papers. But whatever their ori- gin there is now for all practical purposes a new profession, the campaign or drive man- ager, ready at an instant’s notice to raise any desired amount of money. One of the veterans who antedates the war was imported into England a number of years ago to raise the then unheard-of sum of one hundred thousand pounds for a certain London charity. The English were astounded by his mild, quiet manner of speaking. They had expected a cross be- tween a cart-tail orator and a second-story man. An eminent divine who was describ- ing the American money raiser at a lunch- eon said, half in jest and half in earnest: “He is not the sort of man that many of us imagined an American organizer to be. As the Americans would say he is no ‘ chest- ier’ about his accomplishments than if he sold tickets at a church fair. But he has the hundred-thousand-pound look. Iam afraid, however, that we expected something in line with the story of the American rector who engaged a train robber to take up the coliection. The first man approached gave the equivalent of our three-penny piece” a dime—‘‘and the professional collector held up his six-shooter, saying: “*Young man, none of your nonsense! This is a dollar show.’”’ These professional money raisers, or fi- | nancial farmers, who make millions grow in the place of an aching void, do not use six-shooters, but they now have complete | records and files of every step that was taken in the great war drives. They have every form, letter, paper, rule, order in- struction, and all the publicity and adver- tising matter. In one drive no less than thirteen or fourteen separate booklets of instructions were issued. All of these are available. Everything has been tried out and the experimental stage passed. Theory and practice alike have been satisfied. Not only has the foundation been laid but the technic has been developed to the minutest detail. What the pioneers accomplished is now at everyone’s service. The professional drive manager is ready alike for a local or a national campaign. He will raise a few hundred thousand for a little local denominational college in a quiet county seat or he will undertake to supply a great university with ten or twenty millions. He is ready alike for Methodists and Episcopalians. “The next time we do it,” said one of them, “‘we’ll have all the stuff ready.”’ Nor is the campaign manager ready only with the big broad ideas. He knows how to handle the little things, little, however, only because the public does not hear about them. He knows how to handle the central warehouse where the publicity and adver- tising matter is stored in advance, and he knows the quickest ways of routing out this matter of the local committees, whether by freight, express or post. Expert Advice Like an iceberg there is more to these campaign organizations under the surface than appears above water. The mere phys- ical work attached to collecting and han- | dling vast sums of money after the givers have decided to let go is a masterpiece of organization in itself. In one of the war- relief drives three tons of small change were collected in one city in a few days’ time, and a small-change panic resulted. This is but one of.scores of technical details that the public does not hear about and that the campaign manager must be prepared to cope with. Now the first great essential of modern money raising is organization; or to ex- press the same idea differently, the applica- tion of modern business principles and methods to the task in hand. “All spontaneous movements are the | result of careful organization,’ said one campaign manager. I thought it a rather cynical remark, and I asked another money- raising professional for his opinion. “Ninety per cent of all the results,”’ he replied, “‘are due to organization.” The same thought was put in different form by a banker of country-wide reputa- tion who had served as chairman of one of the national committees that secured great sums during the war. Without know ing that I had even talked with the two professionals he said that ten per cent of the money contributed to his cause, one of the noblest in the war, had been due to the natural impulse of the givers, and ninety per cent had been “induced.” “So we have to hand that ninety per cent to the organization,’’ he added. Of course the public at large must not know at any given moment the extent of the machinery that is at work upon them or they would think there was too much ma- chinery and too little spontaneity, and so lose their interest. A religious denomina- tion recently desired to raise a large sum through the local churches and called upon a firm of campaign managers for advice These experts suggested three separate steps or stages in the campaign: First, a careful planning of the whole movement; second, a selling campaign directed at the local clergymen to induce them to go after the congregations; and third and last, the actual canvass of the congregations. The committee in charge suggested that the ex- perts get up a circular that could be sent to both the clergymen and the congregations “That will never do,” was the reply “We must get the ministers lined up first and absolutely sold on the proposition well in advance of any approach to the peopl EVENING POST bi aynste Reg. U. S. Pat. 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It must be so planned and ar- ranged that when the clergymen all preach eloquent sermons on June first, appealing for tana the congregations shall not know that we lined the clergymen up on April first.” It is pointed out by all those who have to do with these movements that long before the war a well-known revivalist who is sup- posed to appeal to the emotions conducted his evangelical activities by means of an organization so{precise, careful and mechan- ical that he would not even hold meetings in a city unless the local committee there had made preparations as far in advance as he considered necessary. It is stated that in one of the drives for perhaps the best known of the war-relief bodies the propor- tiqn of residents which subscribed in differ- ent cities varied all the way from one and a half to ninety-five per cent. Who can doubt that this tremendous range in results was due chiefly to the relative effectiveness of local organization rather than to differ- ences in loyalty and patriotism? In a confidential book of instructions sent out to those who seek the advice of a well-known professional money raiser this statement is emphasized: ‘‘To make every man’s work effective, to prevent duplica- tion, annoyance, disgust and failure re- quires a military precision of organization, | with a commanding general, staff officers, commanders of divisions and of sub- divisions.” Nothing should be left to chance. If it is desired that employees of corporations be solicited for funds it is not left to the local or trade committees to use their own judg- ment entirely in approaching the presidents of the corporations. A suggested form of letter to write the presidents is supplied to | the local and trade committees. If store window displays are desired the general scheme of decoration cannot be left to each shop. If it is desired that children earn money and give it to the cause the zeal of the local committees must be checked to the extent of showing them how to avoid con- flict with Federal and state child-labor laws. It may be desirable to raise funds from col- lege students, but a whole circular must be got up showing the most effective way of reaching that special kind of animal. Practical Considerations A certain worthy organization recently wished to raise two hundred thousand dol- lars. So it held a large meeting and sent for a professional. When he arrived he found the members bickering over the question of whether the best way to appeal for funds would be by means of typewritten or mime- ographed letters. The moment the profes- sional got a chance to break in on their debate he made this straight-from-the- shoulder speech: “Hold on a moment, gentlemen! You have no business discussing that subject. Now if you are sure you want the money and know what you are going to use it for, the first thing for you to do is to appoint a | committee of your own number with full power to act. If it is appointed from your membership it will be your kind of a com- mittee and can be trusted. You know they will do a clean, straight job for you because they will be your kind of men. “‘Now after they are appointed the first thing they will do will be to adopt a plan. Then for goodness’ sake give them permis- sion to keep their mouths shut! For if you don’t, the first man who comes out of com- mittee meeting and runs into another mem- ber of this organization will be asked to tell what the plan is. The moment he explains it the other fellow will say: “*Ves, but you've left out so-and-so.’ And it will go on like that indefinitely. You'll never raise any money at all because the committee will always be trying to tinker with and improve the plan at some- one’s suggestion. “Remember that no plan is perfect. If you hire my firm we'll give you a corking good plan all right, but it will be far from perfect. You can punch it full of holes. But you'll never raise a cent if the whole membership continues to discuss this sub- ject, any more than a city editor can get | out his first edition if he always waits for the last possible item of news. If he waits he’ll get out a better paper, but it will miss the train and the subscribers won’t get any paper at all. “*T know what I’m talking about because I used to be a magazine editor and I learned that a magazine could not be edited by a board of directors. Nothing got in because March 15,1919 someone always objected. You've got to have an editor who says ‘This goes and that doesn’t’; and it’s the same way rais- ing money.” Now the moment we begin to apply mod- ern business methods of organization to money raising it becomes apparent that many if not most of the old-fashioned methods are expensive, wasteful, undigni- fied and perfunctory. The next thing we discover is the very simple fact that if large sums are wanted they must be obtained by the leading men in each community. If a professional so- licitor or a person utterly unknown to me comes and asks for a gift to the new hos- pital in our town I will turn him off with a dollar or two if I am stingy enough. But if the president of the bank where I keep my account and occasionally seek a little loan comes and asks for fifty dollars I will hesi- tate quite a while before refusing him. The same would be the case if I, or you, were approached by the richest and most power- ful citizen in the place, or by the one with the highest social standing. It is the personal touch that counts, especially when the touch is applied by someone whom the touchee highly respects or even stands in awe of. It is direct face- to-face contact of business man to business man that brings the big money. You can throw a begging letter in the wastebasket or turn away an unknown solicitor, but you can’t throw the president of the local bank out of the front door. The Intensive Drive Naturally the bank president, leading manufacturer and big merchant can give only a little of their time to begging money. But the problem is simple when modern business methods of organization are ap- plied to it. Why not concentrate on the job? Why not ask these leading men to give up five or six days to canvassing, and then have it all over with? Thus the modern intensive or whirlwind drive evolved. Usually it occupiés eight days, or two weeks, or three weeks in the case of the mammoth Liberty Loans. The idea is to start with Sunday, to give the preachers a chance to sermonize on the movement. Several of the campaign man- agers believe, however, that Sunday makes a slow start, and future drives may begin on weekdays. No one man invented the intensive drive, though Charles Sumner Ward, who is perhaps the pioneer and granddaddy of modern professional money raisers, had as much to do with its develop- ment as anyone. Ward was originally a Y secretary, and gradually became drawn into money- raising work. Having once started the ball rolling he never got free from it. For a long time it is doubtful if Mr. Ward realized what a huge engine he was developing, and he always expected until recently to get back into regular association work. But of course that is now out of the question. “The intensive drive is not a thing that any man invented,” said Mr. Ward re- cently. “It developed from the absolute necessity of getting money raising down so as to take less time. At first I tried a month’s campaign, but after a little experi- ence all the workers agreed that the fourth week was a dead one. The teams got tired, solsaid: ‘Let’s drop the fourth week out’; and then the third week was dropped out in the same way. ““Why don’t you also drop out the second day?” I asked. “I have heard that you consider it the slowest.” But this facetious question could not be answered. “It has been proved over and over again,”” Mr. Ward went on, “that more money can be obtained in a week thanin a year. Concentration on the part of the workers and concentration of attention of the people of a community upon the proj- ect. You can’t beat that combination. “Tn a city where one of my first cam- paigns was held we learned that the Y building had been under foreclosure many years before, and it took a year or so of des- perate effort to raise the few thousands nec- essary to save it. The movement had been led by a Civil War veteran, who said that his efforts to get that money had tired him more than all the forced marches of the Vicksburg Campaign.” Many of the devices—such as competi- tive teams, noonday luncheons, reports on a blackboard, clocks, quotas and the like which are used so extensively .in Liberty Loan and other big drives, seem to have (Continued on Page 69) ry} ma” — ee,

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—— <—— THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Method

The BRUNSWICK py areneten ate! s| 43

Which Won Millions of Friends HEN the now-famous Brunswick was announced, most people believed that the utmost had already been attained in the phonographic art. Hence they expected, and rightly so, that The Brunswick would have to bring out overwhelming better- ments in order to win a place among the leaders. And this great expectation was realized. The Bruns- wick created a memorable sensation. It commanded instant respect and admiration. The Pioneer Of the major instruments, The Brunswick was the first to play all records with faithful regard for different requirements. This feature alone created thousands of admirers. For it meant that a Brunswick owner could buy and play any record, whatever make. Since different makes offer different artists, and no one make offers them all, music lovers saw in The Brunswick the opportunity to select their own library of records, without restriction. The other outstanding Brunswick betterment was in tone production. By a more scientific amplification of tone waves, The Brunswick overcame many old-time crudities and brought out lovely tones hitherto lost Today The Brunswick Method of Reproduction is a recognized triumph. It means perfected reproduction to all who know it. And the news is spreading fast Two Famous Ideas The Brunswick Method of Reproduction includes The Ultona, an all-record player. This master invention can be obtained on no other phonograph. The Ultona presents to each make of record, the proper needle and diaphragm. All at a turn of the hand. It is a unique reproducer, not an attachment nor makeshift The Brunswick Method also includes The Brunswick Amplifier, an all-wood sound chamber built with scien tific regard for acoustic laws. No metal is used because it muffles sound vibrations. Before you decide which phonograph for your home hear The Brunswick. Compare its tone. Note the Ultona A Bruriswick Dealer will gladly assist you in making a tone test. The Brunswick-Balke-Collender Co. General Offices: CHICAGO and NEW YORK Branch Houses in Principal Cities of United States, Mexico and Canada Canadian Distributors, Musical Merc panties Sales Co., Excelsior Life Building ,

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST March !15_19'9 O ride in the Liberty “Six” for fifteen minutes is to recognize beyond ques- tion the notable difference in the way it rides and drives. This revelation of its in-built goodness is aS conclusive as the attraction of its individual beauty of design and charm of style. As a result, the Liberty has won from its owners a friendly feeling for its superior quality that cannot be expressed without seeming to exaggerate. The profusion of wonderfully kind letters from Liberty owners indicates an appreci- ation that grows stronger and deeper as the miles roll up. Liberty Motor Car Company, Detroit ATTY & ee

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mee Sere ee (Continued from Page 66) first evolved in Mr. Ward’s earlier cam- paigns, though he is very modest about claiming any originality for them. His drives, numerous as they were, had been practically confined to single localities, and when the war came along others had to take his ideas and apply them on a nation- wide scale, though he was often consulted by the leaders of these national movements. = the most interesting fact about Mr. Ward, however, is his continued enthusi- asm over money raising, though he has been connected with sixty drives or more, enough to make most men rather cynical. He says that no one can fail to retain en- thusiasm who comes so much in contact with big men Some idea of the interest which even Ward’s earlier drives aroused may be judged from the fact that he furnished the city of Montevideo, Uruguay, with a set of all the publicity matter of his London drive; and Cape Town, South Africa, asked him for the same material regarding his Detroit campaign. Obviously a great advantage of a con- centrated campaign for money occupying only a week or two is the willingness of newspapers to report it fully. They can afford to give space for one or two weeks to the efforts to finance the local hospital or college, but not when the agony strings out over a whole year. Having once decided upon a concentrated effort it is then possible to enlist the active participation of all the leading business men in a locality. Of course the paid pro- fessional manager has been hard at work for weeks and even months making detailed plans. A chairman and an executive com- mittee have also been chosen. It is of the utmost importance to have a distinguished chairman, for his name adds weight to the many statements and messages to the pub- lie which are usually written by the paid manager and his assistants or by the volun- teer executive secretary if there is no paid manager, but are, of course, signed by the chairman and put out over his name. It is well for the chairman to be rich, but not too enormously rich, for then the work- ers will lie down on the job and expect him to come across to make up any deficit. In one recent campaign a man of fabulous wealth and excellent standing but little known personality was chosen as chairman. In one respect he proved a splendid chief. He worked like a horse himself, kept his hands on the reins, had an abundance of ideas and resource and induced several other rich men to subscribe heavily. But what everyone feared happened. People in general took the attitude that this rich man could do the whole job himself, and though he did not literally do it ail himself he did have to come across for several unex- pected millions at the last moment. Getting the Right Leaders In every town there is a crowd that can put anything over, usually the group that controls the banks. All the young men are eager to become acquainted with these leaders and work with and for them. There- fore these leaders must always constitute the executive committee. They are the queen bees, the bellwethers. Where they go others follow. If it is desired to have the steel companies contribute ten million dol- lars to a cause the only way to go at it is to get the United States Steel Corporation to give five million dollars, and have its chair- man write a letter to the other companies telling what he has done. The rest is easy. So it is in the different localities. If the central, leading group can once be sold the rest follow. Besides, if this group once forms an organization for money-raising purposes the next drive will come easy be- cause such organizations remain more or less permanent. As Mr. Seward Prosser, a New York banker and chairman of one of the first of the nationwide war drives, says: “The secret is to get a number of the right kind of people to close their minds to every- thing else for a short time. “rst get the leaders to do it and then have them impress the idea upon the people.” Getting down to details the one essential is the competitive team, and the secret of the competitive team is the noonday lunch- eon. Early in his work Mr. Ward made up teams of young men, usually those who were interested in the Y; but now the most important and dignified man in the town is the first one to be put onateam. In New York, for instance, no big drive would be considered successful unless J. P. Morgan

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST and Jacob H. Schiff, perhaps the two best- known bankers in the country, Gentile and Jew respectively, were team captains. The point is first to get the men whose time is the most valuable so that others cannot raise the objection of not having time | enough. If Morgan can afford to give his time John Smith hasn’t the face to refuse. In one recent campaign the man chosen as chairman accepted the position only on condition that J. P. Morgan would agree to be a team captain. In one of these cam- paigns the only man put on a team who was not expected actually to get out and solicit subscriptions like a book agent was Joseph H. Choate, then eighty-five years old. “TI don’t really expect you to do any work,” said the chairman to Mr. Choate, “but I want to be able to say to all the | workers that Mr. Choate is not too old to be in on this.” Mr. Choate agreed not only to go on one of the teams but said he hoped he could do some work. He died only a few days later, however. A large city university, engaged in a use- ful work but loosely organized, lacking that intense loyalty among its alumni which characterizes some of its sister institutions and with only a few rich alumni, neverthe- less was able to raise a large endowment in an incredibly short space of time. Mean- while far better-known universities, whose alumni put loyalty to alma mater above nearly all other sentiments, were almost bankrupt. The successful institution can- vassed with teams, and the others sought money by old-fashioned methods. The Competitive Spirit The basis of the team system is ten teams | of ten men each. Ina large city the number can be increased to any desired extent. The captains are first chosen and then they pick | their own men, usually along lines of busi- ness and financial connections, race and social and personal affiliations. The presi- dent of the First National Bank, which finances the local water company, chooses the manager of the water eee. and allows his rival, the president of the Second National Bank, who is captain of Team Number Two, to pick the treasurer of the = ctric-light company, which is financed by the Second National Bank. Only one pledge is exacted from the men who are put on the teams—that they will attend the noonday luncheon, usually at the Chamber of Commerce. These are held every day as long as the drive lasts. The men are not asked to promise anything else; they are not expected even to agree to solicit any fixed number of persons. But the little detail of the daily luncheon does the trick. It is the real secret of success and has saved many a battle. It economizes time, but it does more than that. Each team captain reports daily the amount which his team has collected, and the re- sult is to enthuse and buoy up the workers and fill them with the competitive spirit In the early days these luncheons were held only occasionally, but now they are held on every weekday throughout the drive. What the luncheon does is to show the business men that raising money can be turned into a sporting proposition. It ceases to be a dreary grind, especially as it lasts only a week or two. The same in- stinct is aroused in the successful business man by the failure of his team to stand first as that which surges up in him when he fails to hit a golf ball. Mr. Jacob H. Schiff, though well along in years, gets just as much excited about the progress of his team as anyone, and reads his daily reports to the assemblage of millionaire section gangs with great care and precision. Of course all the team members must put in their own subscriptions before they go after outsiders. A man cannot solicit successfully until he has made his own gift For all the team workers to turn in their own subscriptions at the very beginning makes an impression upon the community such as nothing else will do. It is obviously impossible for a worker to exert much ir fluence if he has not himself made his largest possible sacrifice. It is a great talk- ing point to be able to say: themselves subscribed a total of dol- lars.”’ If there is an especially tough cus- tomer to deal with, an especially hard- skinned millionaire, he ole be put on a team and sent on the trail of another stingy rich man. In his efforts to sell the other fellow he is sure to persuade himself un- consciously to give more generously than “Before our | teams started out to ask anybody else they | | TEEET ETH

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Tnsieee store, bank ot outdoor rec 5 heesian Illustrates and describes 40 different forms for short cuts in Loose Leaf Records of all kinds, This Book Free vis Sytner eens: | now for your copy John C. Moore Corporation 1045 Stone Street Rochester, N.Y MATIHEWS PRIVATE LIGHTING PLANT ¢ Matthews Engineering Sandusky, Ob i King St THE SATURDAY he had intended to. Every word he says to the other man is two to himself. Always the team members are delighted at their experience when the drive is over. One man who had objected that he could not neglect his business that long remarked afterward that he had abandoned it, which he said turned out to be a good thing be- cause he discovered his associates were able to run it in his absence. One of the largest rubber manufacturers in Rochester, New York, was asked to go on a team and objected that he often had deals to consum- mate during the noon hour. He was told that he would not have been asked if he had not been a busy man; and finally he agreed to attend the first luncheon. That was enough. He turned out to be one of the most consistent and successful workers, and after the campaign thanked the captain for asking him. In another city the captain of one team was able to fill it up only because the men he asked accepted as a personal favor to him. “In the first few days,” he said later, “‘only two or three did any real work. In the last two or three days every man was doing his best. Only a day or two ago a committee representing my team workers called upon me and in a beautiful address presented me with a silver platter as a token of their appreciation of the invita- tion to join the work. They said that when they went on the team few of them had ever taken any interest in the object of the drive and they had entered the work solely because I had requested it, but that after the first week they were enthusiastic for the object itself.” Now it must not be supposed that these team workers ask for funds on the streets or in other public places or attempt any- thing like a house-to-house canvass—at least in the large cities. Far from it. They go after the picked prospects, the men and women of largest financial possibilities in the lar gest cities only those who it is hoped will give one hundred dollars or more. The house-to-house canvass and street solicita- tion are merely the gleanings that follow the harvest. The teams do not even suggest or origi- nate the names of persons they ask for funds, though additional suggestions from the m are welcomed. The list of prospects has been made up weeks or even months in advance. At each luncheon each team member is given a small section from this pr ked list to solicit. Most authorities con- sider it a fatal mistake to allow street so- licitation, a house-to-house canvass, booths or any other form of public collection until after the teams have had a chance to cover their lists pretty well. In the last few days there is plenty of time to give full scope to the more varied, petty, annoying and mis- cellaneous methods by which no one is per- mitted to feel that he has been neglected or excluded. People of means will nearly al ways give ans to team members because of per onal and business connections of an influential nature than they will tostrangers on the street. The Meanest Man on Earth A rich man may give twenty-five cents on the street and get a button that will pro- tect him from further solicitation. He will be like the negro’s idea of Cwsar. Asked by a friend who was the meanest man on earth he answered Cesar, and explained by ying that someone showed a penny to Jesus, inquiring whose a this was and was told that it belonged to There are rich men capable of this type of subscription, but if they are ap- proached by their banker or by a business rival they will give far larger sums. Indeed most authorities regard street solicitation, which annoys countless people and brings in only petty sums, as a real hindrance to most campaigns It is just as important to furnish the team members with a good list as it is to secure the teams. In New York City the lists of those who were expected to give one hundred dollars or more ran up to twenty- seven thousand in a recent campaign. In smaller cities the lists usually run from one to six thousand. In the case of a university like Harvard there might be ten or fifteen thousand names. These lists are made up well in advance of the drive from the names of former subscribers to various funds, from club rosters, c ommerc ial agencies, stock- holders’ lists, telephone directories and other similar sources. Often it is possible to arouse interest in the cause well in advance of the drive by (‘wsar. EVENING POST ending a questionnaire to the prospects This perhaps was not possible in the case of the big war drives, which were emergency affairs, but it might be entirely feasible in the case of an endowment fund for a university. There are many debatable sub- jects in the conduct and policy of a uni- versity, and all the thousands of men and women who for one reason or another ought to be interested in the institution can be given an opportunity to express their opinions. By permitting them to do so their interest is aroused and they are in a more favorable frame of mind xd solicita- tion. To prepare peoples’ minds in this way is merely part of the selling appeal. It is not a method of going out and soaking specific individuals. The bulldozing, slugging, soak- ing, compulsion method is justified, accord- ing to all authorities on money raising, only in wartime if at all; but of that more later Two burning questions, somewhat re- lated, which come up in every drive have to do with the wisdom of publishing the names of all the givers and of asse essing or allotting a quota to each giver, especially those who are known to be comfortably well off. Though there have always been many large givers who preferred to remain anonymous the whole tendency of the huge war drives has been to drag giving out in the open. Suggested Amounts A man of large wealth told me a few days ago that a young man of his acquaintance, probably his son or son-in-law, had been generous enough to give fifteen thousand dollars to a certain cause and that it would have been a calamity if the youth’s name had been published. The millionaire added that he hoped that in my article on money raising I would not advocate the publica- tion of names, as had been done in a large city in his state, much to his disgust. “TI suppose you are afraid that the young man would have become a mark for every stock salesman and life-insurance agent in the country?” I asked. ‘That’s not the worst of it,”’ replied the millionaire. ‘‘What I would be most afraid of is that every small college in the South and West would have gone after him.” It is estimated that one hundred million begging letters are written in this country every year, mostly to people of means. It is common for men of large wealth and well- known charitable inclinations to receive five hundred begging letters a day. Per- haps it is no harder on them to receive beg- ging letters than it is for the poor man to be poor. At any rate modern large-scale giv- ing through intensive drives, war chests and charity federations makes for increased publicity, and whether he likes it or not the rich man has to face publicity. The larger the movement the greater the demand from the public and the news- papers to know who and how much money and conviction are back of it. Then too the publication of the names of specific givers spurs on their personal, social and business acquaintances and rivals to give. Generos- ity is infectious. The majority of givers prefer to have their names published, and in the actual work of a campaign the man- agers have more difficulty in getting the correct spelling of the names of those who desire publicity, and the correct amounts of their gifts, then in persuading the few large anonymous givers to come out in the open. Frequently the members of the smaller teams will go to the managers and say: “T can get five hundred dollars from So- and-So if you will promise me to put his name in the paper.” Many if not most of the Jewish federa- tions of charity publish the names and amounts of all givers. It has been said that in some Jewish communities men cannot get into the clubs if they do not give to charity as freely as the club leaders think they should. Otherwise they are told: “Your gift shows that you can’t afford to belong to this club.” As the result of numerous war drives an exceedingly tactful, judicious and success- ful method of assessing or appraising indi- viduals—that is, of giving them a quota has been evolved. It can best be described in the actual words of a book of confiden- tial instructions sent out to workers in one of the great drives: “The General Committee in each com- munity should appoint a subcommittee, preferably credit men of the leading banks, to go over the cards, and make an estimate of the amount each person might reason- ably be expected to give under the most March 15,1919 favorable conditions. It is important to make these estimates because this is a national affair requiring the largest sum of money ever raised by voluntary subscrip- tion in the history of the world. People generally do not know how to appraise themselves in such a vast enterprise. Busi- ness men nowadays do not object to being asked a definite amount. In most cases they prefer to have a definite amount sug- gested. One prominent business man ina recent Red Cross campaign emphasized this method as the most important factor in his wonderful success. It suggested that in approaching a man for a definite amount some such introduction as the fol- lowing be used: ‘In securing our allotment of $——— the Committee has carefully studied the situa- tion and has determined that it will be nec- essary to have 500 jor whatever number it many be] men who will give $ each. The Committee wish us to ask whether you will not be one of the subscribers to this amount.’”’ One of the best known and most philan- thropic multimillionaires in the country when asked if he approved of the appraise- ment and assessment method replied: “I never like to be put in a hole. If any- one tries to dictate to me what I shall give I get just as mad as can be. Nor do I like te have anyone criticize me after I have given. It is a matter of my conscience alone. I think these principles should be applied to everyone else. But I do like to have people suggest amounts for me to give. I suggest to others and I am willing to be suggested to. Some committee has got to appraise every giver quietly, not for public ation of course. It has to be done in a small church affair and it must be done in a nationwide drive.” The idea of suggesting an amount to the individual is capable of indefinite expan- sion. When it comes to industrial workers, employees in factories, and the like, a great difficulty arises from the shifting about of workers. A man may agree to pay two dol- lars on a certain date, or one dollar the first of next month and another dollar a month later. But he may have gone to another job in another city by that time. There- fore a great shrinkage is inevitable. Buttons and Tickets To overcome this difficulty the idea of asking workmen for one day’s pay, or a percentage of a week’s pay, or some other simple, fixed amount has developed. In one of the relatively smaller campaigns for relief purposes workmen were asked to give one per cent of the amount they sub- scribed in the last Liberty Loan. In other cases the overtime pay for a week was sug- gested. Ingenious minds will probably ring all manner of changes on this general idea as time goes on. There are just as many fine points to be considered in dealing with small as with large givers. Much experience has taught the campaigners that money cannot be taken away “cold,” especially from the small giver. He must be given something in return to show for it. That is one great advantage of buttons, window cards and the like. Managers have sometimes started out on a campaign with the idea of elimi- nating buttons, but they usually have to resort to them. It has been learned also that an immediate and appreciative ac- knowledgment of every subscription is necessary. In dealing with children, tick- ets are used with much success. A boy of twelve is always proud of a ticket with its reminder of the circus. The wealthy classes are not above the human trait of wanting something in return for their gifts. Many a man will give a dormitory or stadium bearing his name to a university, though he would never think of adding to the endowment fund. Fully as important as the idea of concen- tration expressed in the int’ nsive drive is that of codperation, unity and get-together, which is the foundation of the federated- charity movement and its more recent development, the war chest. In the past the more well-to-do residents of cities have had their lives made miserable by innumer- able appeals for charity. Tickets to balls, concerts, bazaars, and the like, were thrust upon them at every turn. Most of the appeals were from causes they knew noth- ing about. Now it is possible for all these various charities—at least all of those which can pass the scrutiny of a committee of the Chamber of Commerce or some other (Concluded on Page 75) > , ¢ & , i 7 ~ . t . ’ , yh ‘ . (f , U "] \ | | t : | }

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 71 Re-decorate with Light Good lighting certainly does make home more “homey.” With no change in the furniture, the rugs, the draperies or wall paper—you can give the whole house a new appearance, just by altering the lights. A new lamp here; a new shade there; a different direction or color in the light—and you have fresh new rooms for very little money and very little effort. Keep plenty of MAZDAS on hand—and study out new ways of using them! Enough light for good vision is of course the first requirement, but you are not getting full value out of your lighting until you use it also to decorate with. Buy NATIONAL MAZDA lamps where you see them displayed. Buy five at a time in the handy Blue Carton. Ask the lamp man about lighting—he’ll help you get the best light for your money. NATIONAL LAMP WORKS of General Electric Company 20 Nela Park Cleveland, Ohio f the labels below is a guaranty of National Quality cAL/) VA 60-- Sorc: girs: D>

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72 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST March 15,1919 — —————- - — - = — - - - Se eR pn ee ee ~ Protection—two ways by In the larger sense, Certain-teed means protection bot property and to the buying public. — paints, varnishes, roofing, andrelated Its name—to a larger and largf materials—are providing efficient and economical each year—is proving a prote protection against the elements and the weather; trustworthy guide-mark to prof against decay and deterioration. and genuine economy. The Certain-teed system of distribution ts international in scope. Through it, Certain-teed service and Certain-teed products can be qu Certain-teed Products Corporation Offices in the Principal Cities of America

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Jo D teearareaiin PTT oa by jae Whee oer i? er fea TTP REET ET PELL Lchaaha iat « TET TPT TEETER LLL Lk ' Hitetrciiee ee Weticceeeeecgeeeeeeee Wittespeere eee it Wie, ECOL Ye LITITTT ITT TET ERT T REED LE il ALL ERETTEETTETTTOSBET IO LL haat a 4 ' to building er part of the public faction in buying; a @ducts of real worth obtained anywhere.

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Darlington Clay Products Co., Darlington, Beaver Co. Pa. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST OUTLINE OF DRAFT FAN DRIVE Drive Pulley on Motor I4’X 12” Driven Pulley 42’x 12’ 35 Speed of Belt 4730 F.P.M. Specified Goodyear BLUE STREAK Side View $123.83 has been saved in seven months on the draft-fan drive of the Darlington Clay Products Company. The best belt they had ever had on that drive gave service at a cost of $25.32 per month. The Goodyear Belt recommended by a G. T. M. Goodyear Technical Man has cost only $7.63 per month. In the last seven months, therefore, the G. T. M.'s service has saved $123.83— and will save more in the months to come. Even more important to Mr. Tefft, the manager, there is no more trouble on that drive. A letter of inquiry written to Akron by Mr. Tefft was the first cause of these gratifying results. Init he described his draft-fan drive and the trouble and expense it was causing He wrote that the belt ran between the brick walls of a pit— coming to within an inch of walls often at a tem- perature of 300 degrees. He stated that sulphur fumes— SO) went over the belt; and that the nightman in oiling the fan bear- ings generally let oil drip on the belt. He added that the best belt he had been able to get gave about 8 months’ service at a cost of $202.61 — $25.32 per month — and lots of trouble and repairs thrown in for good measure. We sent a G. T. M.—our Mr. Hunter —to look the drive over. He decided that as it stood it would always be expensive and troublesome — even if Goodyear Belts specified by a G.T. M. were used. Sohe put up an oil guard at the right place had a hole cut 5 ply Endless Copyright 1919, by The Goodyear Tire & Rubber Co. What Came of a Letter—and a G.T. M. Call in the wall to provide a draft to carry off the heat —and after care- ful measurements specified an 8-inch 5-ply Goodyear Blue Streak made endless. It cost $53.41 and was applied June 5th, 1918. On January 5th, 1919, at the time this advertisement went to press the belt was still running. It had given seven months’ service at a cost of $7.63 per month—had never required repairs or other attention, and to Mr. Tefft looked good for months more of perfect service. It does better work than the former belt which cost at least $17.69 more per month of service. Mr. Tefft attributes the consequent saving of $123.83 in seven months, and the relief from trouble, to the G. T. M.; he has had a G. T. M. analyze and prescribe a belt for every drive in the plant, and has already ordered the prescribed Goodyear equipment for five drives. lf you have a belt-devouring drive that is eating too many dollars, ask a G.T. M. to call. He'll do it without charge when he’s in your vicinity. There are many of them — all trained in the Goodyear Technical School —all with experience in plants similar to yours—all selling belts to meet conditions and not as a hard- ware man sells nails. We are able to give the G.T. M.'s services free only because the savings they effect for purchasers are so considerable that a gratifying volume of business from the plants analyzed is sure to result within a year or two. The G.*T. M.’s analysis and prescriptions do not obligate you in any way. THE GOODYEAR TIRE & RUBBER COMPANY, AKRON, OHIO BELTING - PACKING me OO — HOSE:-VALVES March 15,1919 Ee >>___ ag oe — eee

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ee (Concluded from Page 70) responsible body—to maintain their sepa- rate organization and work, but to raise funds in common. Once you put all the good causes of a city into a federation or chest you can com- mand the leading men in the city as back- ers, chairmen, committeemen, and the like. Givers then know that they are subscribing to something which the leading men stand sponsor for. Grafters, fakers, busybodies and cheap social climbers are eliminated, because only persons who are already on the top of the heap are in command. Inev- itably in every town the crowd before re- ferred to, which can put anything over, runs the federation or « tharity. Under former conditions the rich man had a road map when he went on a motor trip or a stock list when he bought stocks, but he had no guide to giving. A rich man who has a charity of his own, a hobby in which few are interested and to which few others give, went to a meeting of another charity, and to the horror of the ladies present broke out in violent language as follows: ‘I think it is shameful that the rich will not give. The rich people of New York have behaved disgracefully. Why, we went to a man who gave two hundred and fifty thousand dollars for a picture, and he would not give us a cent for our work. You must shame such persons into giving money.” Of course this peppery old gentleman had trouble in raising money. Nobody knew or eared about his baby fund. While writ- ing this article 1 was summoned to the door tosee a solicitor who was selling for seventy- five cents a magazine I had never heard of and therefore did not want. She said that part of the proceeds would go to one of the churches in the town, a church I have never been in and have no personal interest in. Of course I refused to subscribe. But if all the churches in my town would unite in one campaign to raise funds for the extension of their work I should be compelled to give a substantial sum— by the mere social pres- sure of a united public opinion if from no higher motive. The lone-hand player, the little lone-hand charity, has no chance. The appe sal is cold and the doors are slammed in his and its face. Money raising can be successfully carried on only when ‘‘everybody is doing it,”” when the thing is in the air, when it is the fashion, when people’s thoughts are con- centrated upon it; and only the big cause can afford to create such an atmosphere. Generous Jews Nothing is more striking than the in- crease in individual subscriptions when the cause is big, united, federated, codperative and backed by all leading elements. One of the chief reasons is a ridiculously simple one. Many different appeals always make the giver feel that he has contributed more than he really has. If you are asked to give a dollar each to fifty different.charities in a year you will feel far more burdened, an- noyed and aggrieved than if you are asked to give two hundred and fifty dollars to one great object which covers the whole field for a year. The Jews have demonstrated these facts many times in their federations. When ap- proached by the new federation in his city a Jew gave ten thousand dollars, assuming it was about the same as he had given before the charities were federated. But he learned to his amazement upon looking up the figures that he had given only a few hun- dred dollars in previous years. He had sup- posed he had given largely because it had gone in driblets. Another man gave forty thousand dollars a year more after the fed- eration was started than before. Naturally, any united movement for a city or town gets far more publicity in the papers, more advertising, both paid and unpaid, than do the separate movements taken together. The papers print more about the united campaign, the federation or the war chest than they do about the separate oganizations, not only because a big thing has more news value but also because they can depend more upon the THE SATURDAY passage of special laws at the instance of these leading citizens, permitting such a practice. In other cases it was necessary only to secure the opinion of eminent coun- sel. A socialist newspaper in New York City commenting upon one of the big drives and the use of clocks to indicate the amount of subscriptions said: “Though we hate to admit it, it does seem as if these great clock faces, ticking off their thousands of dollars every minute, were something more than mere cash registers and were in reality registering most con- clusively the fact that the superior intelli- gence claimed by capitalists for themselves is anything but an empty boast.” Therea!test of anymoney-raisingmethod, of any drive or chest, is not the amount of — raised, but the number of people who rereached. The democratization of giving is just as necessary as that of government. ‘I can help you raise all the money you need from yourselves and a few other rich men,” said an expert who was engaged by the Y for a big drive, “‘but it will be a liability to you. It will teach the people that they have no responsibility. It would be better to raise a hundred million dollars from a hundred million people, if that were possible, than the same amount from a hun- dred people.” The Small Contributors In the past the curse of giving has been its exclusiveness. It has been confined to the few. The world had to be saved by the millionaires. Each charity worked the other charity’s list. Solicitors stuck to lines of least resistance. They went for people known to be generous rather than for those who might be persuaded to be- come generous. The rich man was besieged out of all proportion to the moderately well off and the comfortably well off, which latter class was almost wholly neglected and gave very little. There were a few people who gave both time and money. A few gave money and no time, and a few others gave time and no money. But the great mass gave neither. They were fans rather than players. The chief centers of money giving had long been located, and the money raisers continued to exploit the resources already developed rather than explore for new ones. No effort was made to crystallize or realize upon in terms of money the untold stores of human sympathy, interest and joy in giving hap- piness that lay in the masses. 3efore the war money raisers were per- fectly cynical about the situation. They knew that the great bulk of the money would come from a small minority of peo- ple. But the huge scale of the war drives and the war chests has brought a rapid change. **The sums were so big,” richest men in the country, ‘‘that a few men couldn't handle them. There are a few men who can give a million dollars each to a charity, or even in some cases two or three millions, and the same men can sub- scribe perhaps twenty-five millions or more for Liberty Loans. But none of us can give five or ten millions to a single charity or subscribe several hundred millions for gov- ernment loans.’ The great advantage of the big drive or the war chest is that it gets way down. The little fellow can’t afford to give a dol- lar to every charity that comes along, but he can afford a dollar for a combination of them all. And the beauty of it is that the money reached by such methods is for the most part absolutely new money which would not otherwise have been given. The drives and the war chests have taught everybody to give more and to en- joy it—rich, middle classes and poor alike. Once started people will continue to give. Aroused for one kind of giving they are easier to interest in another. Nev ver was the American public in such a favorable state for cultivation as now. “There is a man in this city, worker, “‘worth a million dol never before gave anything to speak « We got a good contribution out of him on the biggest of the war drives, and we have said one of the ¢ EVENING POST been secretly arranged for. It is the same old question of the free-will offering. A cer- tain prominent evangelist takes up no col- lections until just before he leaves a city, and then it is a free-will offering. But he once told a friend that unless that free-will affair was organized long before the last day—that is, unless a few large gifts were arranged for—he would not get enough to pay his board. To a certain extent it is probably neces- sary to arrange for a few large gifts before- hand. Announced at the beginning of a canvass they set a high standard and in- spire confidence and enthusiasm. Without such a start the managers would probably feel as helpless as those in charge of a Lib- erty Loan meeting and auction with no subscriptions planted in advance. But it is necessary also to hold back some of the big advance subscriptions and not show too much at the beginning. The man- agers must hold something up their sleeves to feed out as the interest lags. Yet it is a mistake to lay too great stress upon this matter of advance subscriptions. The rich have to be —e as well as the poor. One of the best known of the country’s millionaires gave a round million to a cer- tain cause, but it took so much education to bring him up to the point that his asso- ciates were both astonished and delighted when their efforts were rewarded. “The whole community must get the idea,”’ said a banker who has headed many drives. ‘“‘The rich have to be educated. The only difference between them and the poor is that they usually know about the cause for which the money is bei ing raised They know the goods Ww hic h we are sellir £ better than the poor, but we have to edu cate them just as much, perhaps more, on the crisis itself.’’ The final triumph of modern money raising is the joy which it brings, not to the Belgians or Armenians who are saved from starvation, but to the givers themselves. This is not pious cant or bunk, but a cold business proposition. A small town in lowa was in the throes of a campaign to raise funds for the local college. A professional money raiser from New York was in the midst of his work when his attention was called to the case of a well-to-do garage owner who resolutely refused to give a cent and who had not only never given to any cause but had never shown any civic inter est. The manager dropped his office work and went to the garage. Happiness Through Giving “T want to meet you before I go back,” he said to the owner. “I want to buy a car to ride back in and I tell you what I'll do. I’ll buy the car if you'll give five hundred dollars to the college. You must be a strange fellow. Everybody speaks well of you, but the | say you have no public spirit at all.” The garage ov 7 er was very nasty for a few minutes, but he wanted to sell the car, and so he gave the fe hundred dollars. Then in afew days he began to look at the bulletin board on which the gifts were posted, and soon he was seen taking a look at the board three or four times a day Then he called upon the manager and asked how the drive was going. “TI told him it was going very badly,” said the manager, “‘though in truth it was going finely, but | wanted to clinch that fellow’s interest.” The automobile man then offered to double any other gift that might be made, and from that time on he went up in the esteem of all his fellow citizens and prob ably in his own. In a few months he was elected director in one of the leading bank ‘This has happened again and again,’ said another manager. ‘‘A man noted as a tightwad in the church, who was literally forced to give a tidy sum because of the so cial and business pressure brought by hi has shortly after his gift come to whole character and fellows, feel so good that his il have been enlarged and loosened up He has then become so much happier thar before that he soon became the chief donor of the church, or the builder of a new one, ee es ~ i all active before, that he soon began to push ahead in business. Campaign managers tell endless stories to prove their contention that thrift follows giving and that prosperity follows thrift They say the slogan should be “ Give until it feels good”’ rather than “Give until it hurts.”” Obviously there is danger in laying too much emphasis upon the selfish bene fits of giving, such as business an possibly social advancement. But there is no danger in insisting upon the enlargem« nt of one soul, the renewed interest in humanity and in one’s own community; and, to be frank about it, the better standing with the public that always results. One veteran always tells his workers that the only way to save the rich man’s soul is to take his money away from him. There seems to be a pretty constant prog- ress toward the use of real salesmanship in money raising rather than the old-fashioned methods of slushing and slugging. Mr. Whiting Williams, who has been actively connected with much of the pioneer work in Cleveland along these lines, describes the slushing and slugging methods and the evo- lution away from them most interestingly “The head of the Babies’ Home, which may be inefficient, unnecessary and posi tively harmful, depends upon her ability to draw tears as she pours out a highly senti- mentalized version of some service rendered in a particular case by her pet institution Or she hires somebody who can do the trick successfully in the office of Mister Gotrox at fifty cents commission on every dollar collec ted.”’ Loading the Stick ‘There are many ways of putting the punch in the big stick used by the ad- herents of the ‘slugging’ method. It is built on the idea that no one wants to give away a dollar. He must, therefore, be made tk The implest oe be of the stick is downright nerve and gall.” Mr. Williams points out the ‘increasing tendency to use the more refined power of social pressure rather than crude slugging, the careful allotment of a particular quota and the exceedingly careful assignment of the job to the person who an to exert the utmost pressure. This mes be the man who decides upon the victim’s loan at the bank, the leader of his social set or his su- perior officer in the factory or firm. Then too there is the pressure of publicity. Of course during the war the crudest kind of compulsion was used in many places. A cigar aes rroprietor who had thirty-one hundred dollars in the bank of a mall town in the Northwest was assessed fifty dollars for the United War Work cam- paign by the local committee, and out of indifference and stinginess refused to give more than one dollar. The next morning his store was covered with yellow paint and he promptly came across with one hundred of even more dollars. Countless instance violent methods might be cited. I asked a man of very great wealth what he thought of these methods, assuming that he one be disgusted. A resident of New York, his name just as well known in every hamlet in the country. Though generous, unassuming and modest, he is the target of anarchist bomb and every crank letter ‘I see nothing wrong in sur h methods replied with much vigor, in wartime,” he r much to my astonishment. “The money simply had to be got. If the man next door refused to do his share you had in u sense to smoke him out. Every man had to fight or and if he was too stingy or too dis loval to give I believe it wa perfect right to compel him to do so. Ordir how ever, I do not believe in anything stronger than mo u Returning to the question of money rais ing in norma mes Mr. Williams, after usserting his belief in the selling rather tha the ishing and rering hods, g or t iy that as the ( ir funds have on the whole given a pretty good account of hat them ‘ was for } is needec Li twa bt ed na i! npetu Ke t re PVE est n eextel ‘

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March 15,1919 POST VENING URDAY E THE SAT TIRE CONSE RVATION COURSRr LESSON 2 Series of Six Flow to Care for Tread Cuts

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Gaining 4,000 Miles By Caring for Tread Cuts N a large car, the right-rear tire had run only 2,000 miles by May. Then a small tread cut was noticed. The owner had his chauffeur repair it. The tire is still in service after having already served for 8,000 miles. If the tread cut had been neglected, 4,000 miles would have been the utmost of mileage for the injured tire. enough for a run from Boston to San Francisco. Timely care meant a clear gain of 4,000 miles—more than Ask your Goodyear Service Station, or write to Akron, for Lesson 2 of the Goodyear Conservation Course—telling how to care for tread cuts. | ad even the Goodyear All- Weather tread can abso- lutely protect tires from tread cuts and their costly con- sequences. The toughness of its thick studs can do no more than diminish the number of cuts, and delay materially their effects. Scraps of metal and glass, switch-points in car tracks, and sharp chips of stone will cut the best of treads when squarely struck. If such cuts are not promptly and properly repaired, they enlarge rapidly, and deepen. Sand and moisture are forced in and tread sep- aration soon begins. If the injury is still neg- lected, the moisture penetrates the body of the tire and after a few Ss - & es & A smai tread cut. If neglected it will cause a bad blowout. Ask your Goodyear Service Station, or us, for Lesson 2 of the Goodyear Tire Conservation Course—dealing with the care of tread cuts months, causes fabric rotting, ending in a blowout. Proper protection of your tire investment demands that you do away with the losses due to tread cuts. Vv Inspect your tires regularly and frequently. As soon asa fresh tread cut is noticed have it repaired, or repair it yourself as directed in Lesson 2 of the GoodyearConservation Course. You can get this and other les- sons at any Goodyear Service Station. If the tread cut is an old one, do not repair it without getting the advice of a tire expert. Tread separation may have already set in, and sealing up the cut would have the same disastrous effect as sealing up a decaying tooth. To avoid all possibility of neg- lected tread cuts and their costly effects, make a can of Goodyear tire putty a part of your car’s equipment. With it you or your chauffeur can repair tread injuries quick- ly and at a cost of only a few cents. Any Goodyear Service Station can supply it and many other Good- year Tire Savers—inex- pensive little things that save big tire bills. Goodyear Tire Putty and Cement with which anyone can repair tread cuts The Goodyear Tire & Rubber Company, Akron, Ohio

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| | - When Your Spring Breaks on THE SATURDAY EVENING POST March 15,1919 . put on > QUALITY as : a The Replacement Spring The springs under your car are propor- tionately as vital to your safety and peace of mind, as the foundations under your home. Only the best springs should satisfy you. VULCAN Springs embody. “built in” quality. They represent the highest degree of spring “character.” VULCAN Service is nation-wide. Ample assorted stocks are carried by over 5,000 live dealers. There should be a dealer near you who can supply a spring which is an exact duplicate in shape and design, to replace your broken spring. Look for the VULCAN Service Sign. IN Every TOWN Demand our metal name plate as shown in this illustration, Jor EVERY CAR y. & Jenkins VULCAN Spring Company FACTORY RICHMOND, INDIANA BRANCHES St. Louis, Mo., 1402 Chestnut Street. : Reading, Pa., 538 Franklin Street. oe Sng, Te Minn., 1024 Hennepin Avenue. Sumter, S. C., 29 Caldwell Street. Dallas, Texas, 209 Houston Street. Atlanta, Ga., 48 Auburn Avenue. s% EE = - * tg at i

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/ «@ ’ ,.% i ag ey are doing over here in France, and back home, as I read about it, and know about it first-hand. “Now then, knowing that, I feel, and so do the other boys, that there won’t be any harm in taking a look when we get back home and finding out just what sort of stuff these government folks have been handing us, and doing a little reorganizing here and there if we can, in order to get better results. We never thought about it before, but we are thinking about it now, and we've got four million or so lads who are having their eyes opened. We are plumb sure that we have got the greatest country in the world, but maybe our Gov- ernment doesn’t measure up to our coun- try in all of its parts and systems. Maybe the men who run it are not the right sort of men to run it. Maybe we think we can run it pretty good ourselves. Maybe we can put a few improvements on it or change it here and there to help in some ways. Maybe there are things in it we don’t know about that we ought to know about. Maybe not. Anyhow, it is in the minds of a lot of us to have a look-see. ‘“And there’s another thing I want to tell you, and that is to lay off on all this stuff about a big standing army and such. I'll say there won’t be any big standing army in the United States, nor anything that looks like the extension of military control or militarism; nor even the sus- vicion of it. We're wise to militarism over here, and all it means, and what it is, and how it starts; and we're off that for life.’’ The two men I have quoted—my gilded young friend and the driver, Jim—are not exceptional, though they are not typical members of the Army. There are plenty of rich chaps who enlisted or were drafted pes: went willingly, and there are great numbers of business men like Jim, but the rank and file of the organization was and is of somewhat different caliber. By and large the Army was made up of four million average American lads who were mostly between twenty and thirty, and who were largely boyish in their thoughts and ideas, not particularly consequent in their. rela- tions to the Government or especially impressed with their duties as citizens just healthy, happy boys. It is probable that not ten per cent of them ever had any specific political experience or thought. Many of them had voted, and some of them had belonged to political organiza- tions, but they had been more engaged in getting along, and having such fun as they could, and holding such jobs as they had than interested in politics. A good many of the National Guard officers who were taken into the Army had had political experience and practice. Potential Political Forces The idea that these soldiers would be able to exert a great political influence after the war spread easily and rapidly, and the reason for that was simple, notwithstanding the lack of previous political thought. These men had been taken out of civil life, where they had worked and played and lived as individuals, each for himself, and fused into a great solidarity of thought and action. They were organized, disciplined, directed and used effectively in the mass. The men who were thus built into a fight- ing machine learned, first of all, that unity of action compelled by organization is the way to get results. They didn’t know it, but they learned the lesson of homogeneity as opposed to heterogeneity. Hence, if things can be done by means of organiza- tion in war, things can be done by means of organization in peace also—all sorts of things for the benefit of the men who did the fighting, and for the men who were ready to fight when their turns came, including political things; for no matter how little a young American may have concerned himself with politics he subcon- sciously, it may be, is politically amena- ble—that is, he is potentially political. They awoke to the value of organization early, and they soon began to rate them- selves as tremendous factors in the well- being and progress of America. The fact of their glorification, the praise of them, the enthusiasm among the people for them, the heroic attitude given them, and the spur of an awakened patriotism increased the aggregate ego of them. It was but natural that they should think that when THE SATURDAY EVENING POST THE SOLDIER IN POLITICS (Continued from Page 17) they returned home they would be able to exert a great force on public and private affairs; and it was even more natural, viewed in the light of our system of gov- ernment, that the first and only way that occurred to them for the exertion of this force was through the medium of politics. Hence, no matter where one encountered a soldier in France, if the subject was gone into, it was learned that that soldier was confident he was to be a power when he re- turned home; or, rather, that he and his comrades would be powers; that by con- tinuing their organization they could do much in a political way. Their ideas were sketchy, nebulous, vague. Many of them had no ideas at all save the central one that it is up to the Army to “show them a few things’ when the Army is returned to civil life. They don't know how they are to show them or what they will show them, but they are confident they can some way or other. They talked about it among themselves. The plan was formless, but. it was [per- suasive, and it permeated. It was a sort of stirring, an indefinite feeling that there is a chance to do something. It was abstract, inconclusive, almost intuitive, but it was widespread. The World by the Tail It is probable the idea began to spread in this formless way as soon as we began to organize an army. Certainly, those of us who have had experience with politics ex- pected it. However, it did not attain con- creteness for a long time. It just hung about, referred to casually here, there and everywhere, but not attaining form or directness, not getting much beyond the conversational stage. The soldiers sensed rather than saw their opportunities in a political way, in the main; but not all of them. There were a good many men in that Army who had definite ideas and plans; men who had keen realization of what might be done with four million voters fused together by ties of comrade- ship and with incentives properly applied the incentive of reward for labors—with eight million voters really, because the correlated women must be counted. These men kept the idea going. Roughly, the argument was like this: We fought this war. We wonit. We withstood the dangers and horrors of it. If we stand together we can get what we want. All we’ve got to do is to organize and we'll have the world by the tail with a downhill drag. At the same time the American buck private is not so primitive in his mental processes and ideas as not to be subject to certain psychological trends and influ- ences, and he was so affected. He arrived at a sort of status as to his home Govern- ment without really knowing why. He didn’t realize that the things he saw and knew and felt and experienced were setting his mind for him in political lines, but they were; and the explanation of it is not nad to seek. First off I desire to say that the great outstanding success of our part of the war indeed, of the war itself—was the American buck private. He won it. The reason Ger- many quit was not any other reason than the American soldier, the private. He was there. He was fighting like a demon. He was in inexhaustible supply. With four months’ training he became good enough to whip the Prussian Guard, the uhlan, any and all of the picked and veteran German troops. He won that war, and he won it off hisgwn. He wassometimes handicapped by inefricient leadership, by inefficient support, by inefficient transportation, by supply; but in spite of all that he won the war, won it by fighting under the most adverse con- ditions and in the roughest, toughest areas of France. Moreover, it is plainly apparent that many of the inefficient will ride into immunity from criticism and punishment on the shoulders of the buck private. So be it. The shoulders of the buck private are broad and sturdy, and, more than ” vic- torious. I trust I make myself clear. I saw a great deal of the American Army in France, in most of its phases and operations—not preparations, operations—and set these statements down as the clarified result of my observations. Also, I learned just what is in the backs of the minds of a large number of the men who were privates in that Army, why those mental processes and conclusions are what they are, and can deduce what that will mean ina political way in this country after the men get back and turn their attention to civil affairs. I do not pretend to say that the thing is formulated as yet. Indeed, it probably is largely subconscious, crudely psychologi- cal; but it exists, and it will be developed into lines of action. That is inevitable, and this is what I mean: An army func- tioning is a government func ‘tioning in the expression of force. An army is a govern- ment organization. An army is the ex- pression of the military power of anation. It is governmental i in every feature. Its com- mander in chief is the President. Its offi- cers are governmental servants. Its whole theory, inception, formation and operation are governmental processes. It has no other attribute than a governmental attribute. Of course it is national, but being national it must be essentially and particularly gov ernmental, for the nation is the government at the time being—no more and no less. Therefore, when four million men, young men, inexperienced of either the theory or facts of government, come directly into contact with a governmental functioning that is entirely governmental in every as- pect—are parts of it—they necessarily, naturally and inevitably judge and assay the entire government by the operations of that portion of it with which they are in intimate association. It isn’t likely that the average private argued it out concretely, but he got it im- pressionistically. It was borne in on him. He thought about it now and then. He wondered. He was justified in wondering, and every time he wondered he planted something in his mind that will bear fruit when he gets back home and his political organization is perfected, as it will be. What do you suppose, forexample, the or- dinary private thought when he saw officers who were over him transferred? He knew that many of these men had been trained by the Government for the very work in which they failed. He knew the Government had educated them, the War Department had selected them, that they were supposed to be efficient; and he saw officer after officer, not only from civilian life but pro- fessional soldiers, taken from their com- mands. He knew that generals had been sent back; that some of these experts were not experts at all; that they were not up to the work which they had spent their lives under governmental direction in fitting themselves for. Blaming the System Don’t you suppose that the privates, who had every reason to feel that these men were fitted by training and education to lead and direct them, went a little further in their comment on this most apparent demonstration of unfitness than the per- sonal equation, and put the blame in a measure on the system rather than on the men? If you do not you underestimate the intelligence of the American soldier And is it not likely that, observing these weaknesses, both in theory and in prac- tice, the privates who expected better leadership realized that a Government that failed in so many instances in training offi- cers for war might conceivably be weak in some of its peace manifestations, in its local and domestic operations? Do not misunderstand me as saying that by any means all the officers failed, or that the direction of the men was universally bad. Nothing of the sort. There were a great many officers, both of the regular organization and from private life, who were fine soldiers, capable and effective. That isn’t the point. The point is that there were many especially trained men who were found inefficient. Let me put it another way: The United States Steel Corporation may be compared to a government functioning in various ways. Suppose that on the eve of beginning work in a rail mill, say, the workmen saw the superintendents removed summarily, not only once but many times—men who had been especially trained for the work of directing the making of rails taken out and others substituted. Isn’t it likely that in the course of time the men in the rail mills would begin to think that perhaps the fault wasn't so much in the men removed as in the parent organization that gave them their jobs at the beginning; and that if this condition prevailed in the rail mill it would probably extend to the gun shops, the bridge shops, the structural-steel shops, and so on all through the organization? Isn’t it likely that the men would com ment and wonder whether the remedy should not come at the top, in the system and its manifestations as well as specifically in the rail mills? That is what I mean when I say that the whole experience of these men in the war has had a psychological effect on them that will be translated into politica! inquiry and efforts to change when they get the stimu- lus of an organization behind them. This demonstrated inefficiency of many men set above these privates gave them their fundamental cause for consideration, and those considerations were made acute by other experiences they had, all tending to set them thinking along similar lines They had some specific grievances —not hardships: grievances. Doughboys’ Pay Held Up In all my experience in knocking about the world, which has been considerable, I have yet to see men who take their hard ships so easily and sc good-humoredly a the American buck privates; and they had plenty of them to take. Any visitor to the Front found them cheerful in the most de pressing circumstances, At the rear in even gioomier case at times their spirits were not damped. They did their job better than ever will be told, and grinned their way through it all. They took the discomforts, the hurts, the sickness, the incredible labor of it all with smiles. They fought like heroes. They died like men. They looked on the hardships as inci dental to the job, making their happy best of everything. If they were hungry and the mud and the slime and the lice and the dirt seemed unbearable they made a song about it all. They endured everything with a good-natured stoicism that was as marvelous as it was universal. But there were things they did not understand, thing: that gave them food for thought and for complaint, and that roused resentment and jpredicated§crusades, later, for redres There were things they felt were the fault of the men who should have looked out for them. There were things that were of graver import to them, came home closer, reached further and were more potent than mere killing or being killed, than the misery of the trenches, the wallowings of the camps, the slime of billets, the burdens of marches One of these was the question of pay Some of them went for weeks and months without a cent of money —a great many of them. The pay machinery bogged down do not know what happened, but I do know that hundreds and thousands—a great many thousands-—of our fighting men were not paid for weeks and month at atime. They felt they had earned their pay. They felt the Government should keep its promises and send the allotment money home to their folks. They had no money of their own in most instances, and there were many little things they needed that the Government did not supply. In many cases they could not get their money after they had earned it, small sum that it was, and earned it in the most heartbreal ing and dangerous sort of work. Put a regiment o: young men in France promised thirty dollars a month by- the government that sent them there, and needing small comforts to make life endur able, and hold them there without keeping the promise to pay them that thirty dojlar regularly,’and you get the makings of a protest that will be translated into action sooner or later if you multiply that regi ment by hundreds These men knew it wasn't because the Government did not have the money to pay them Now that is a vital thing, more vital than it may seem to those of you who are comfortably at home. These men did not understand specifically what the reason was, but they did know they didn’t get their pay, and they resented it, and still resent it; nor will they forget it for many years. Another failure was mail—letters from home. It did seem that the Army had a positive genius for falling down on the (Concluded on Page 82)

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(Concluded from Page 79 persona! things that had the greatest effect on the men. Literally hundreds of men have told me that they had no mail for months upon months; not only privates but*officers as well. Already the charges back and forth have begun as to where this responsibility lies, but that cuts no figure with the doughboy He didn’t get his let- ters. That is his side of it. He knows that the mail is a matter in the hands of the Government. He was over there, homesick, lonesome, and he wanted to hear from his mother and from his girl. In his opinion it was up to the Government for which he was fighting to get that mail to him. These boys are human beings. They may have been fighting for an ideal, but they didn’t lose their individualities or their personal wants or hankerings in the pro- cess. The inspiration that he was fighting to help make the world safe for democracy didn’t help a buck private any when he needed a couple of dollars for some com- forts for himself, and hadn't a cent in his pocket because his Government wasn't getting his pay to him. It didn’t make him any less homesick because he had not heard from the folks at home for three months or from his girl for four, to sit down and ponder on the fact that the out- come of this struggle is to be a League of Nations that shail banish all future war from the earth. He wanted to hear from his mother and he wanted to hear from his girl; and the folks who kept him from hearing from home are very likely to hear from him when he gets a chance to send them a message or two via the ballot box. Another feature of army procedure that made them sore and resentful and roused their bitterest protests was the so-called administration of justice by the trial boards of the Army—the courts-martial. This matter has been ventilated at home re- cently. Senator Chamberlain’s speech in the Senate arraigning the system and the exponents of it in the Army is fresh in the public mind. Quite recently Gen. 8S. T. Ansell, Acting Judge-Advocate-General of the Army, speaking before the Chicago Bar Association, condemned the system and the results of it, declaring that while courts-martial are ‘ courts of criminal juris- diction second to none,” holding in jeopardy the lives and liberties of citizen soldiers, ‘they proceed to execute their sacred trust without the aid, guidance or control of any person in the least qualified in the law.” The Keystone of the Arch Discipline is the keystone of the regular professional soldier's arch of army per- formance; but the soldiers in the camps saw their comrades, often for very minor offenses, given sentences of the utmost severity. They saw officers sitting in these courts who had no other idea apparently than to impose as severe sentences as possible on the soldiers brought before them. They held the honor and the effi- mency and the discipline of the Army as highly as these officers, but they could not understand the severities in many cases, could not figure out the reason for the extremes of punishment. They did not pro test over severe sentences for desertion or treachery or absence without leave in the face of the enemy or for real crimes, but THE SATURDAY they did feel that the ordinary peccadillos of boys were not crimes and should not be punished as such. This severity of these officers had its reflex. It prejudiced more than any other one thing the minds of the soldiers against the professional soldier and his system and his methods. It inculeated in their minds an opposition to things military, made them hate war as much as war itself did. They felt that justice was subordinated to dis- cipline and militarism. They were right, too, in many instances, as the investiga- tions before the Senate committee will show when they are made. The private soldier didn’t so much get justice in many cases for his derelictions. He got discipline, that fetish of the narrow mind of the profes- sional soldier. He saw comrades sent to prison for terms of years for small of- fenses, and the exact reverse to the result expected by the administrators was ob- tained. Their courts-martial didn’t scare the private or make him any better soldier. He did not need that, for he was the best soldier there was in any event. The No-Promotions Order There are bound to be offenders among four million men, both among privates and officers, and there is no sympathy for real criminals; but sticking severe sentences on men who have been derelict in minor mat- ters does not make for discipline. It makes for resentment. The order issued by the Secretary of War, at about the time the armistice was signed, forbidding all further promotions, was considered unjust and arbitrary by the rank and file of the Army. The men who had been doing the fighting were just com- ing into their own. They had won their promotions by valor. Great numbers had been recommended for advancement be- cause they had gone through the hell of the field and had done brave deeds that entitled them to higher rank. Secretary Baker stopped promotions as soon as the armistice was signed. The reason that came to France was that this would save the country a lot of money. This added to the resentment, for the men who were due for promotion had only to walk to any place in France where the United States was operating to see evi- dences of the spending of money with a prodigality unequaled in the history of the world. Those in authority protested against this to Baker and the War Department. They knew the spirit of resentment that would be roused, and vee, by this order. They felt what is the fact, that the men deprived of their promotions would never forget what had been done to them. And they were right. Late in January of this year the War Department modified the no-promotion order somewhat after these strong representations had been made, but even that modification will not take away the feeling that an injustice was done to the fighting men, or allay the resentment. These are palpable grievances that will be translated into political incentives later on. There was also a universal babbling about prohibition, and the coming of it in the United States, and much muttering be- cause this had been done to the Army dur- ing its absence. Not much attention need be paid to that. Prohibition is too far along for this Army or any political EVENING POST organization coming out of it to make a dent in it for many years if ever. When a country that has only a small professional army finds it necessary to raise an army to be made up of millions it must get both its officers and its privates from civil life. Hence the great bulk of the officers in the lower grades in this present Army are not professional soldier men, but civilians transmuted into soldiers by such processes as were available. It is quite likely that the coming political organiza- tion of this Army, or its coming political endeavor—for it is to be doubted if the oxquadention will be per se or openly polit- ical—will be managed and directed by these very civilian officers. The regular officers, the West Pointers, are professional soldiers and cannot mix openly in politics. The regulation and regulated military way of doing things is incomprehensible to the man from business or professional non- military life, especially the army methods of doing business. The civilian officers are not critical of military affairs, because they do not know, albeit they have suspicions that men who do business the way many professional army men do it, with such cir- cumlocution and in such archaic manners, may not be exactly top-side in military af- fairs. These civilian officers know how to get things done, how to tackle big jobs of supply and manufacture and distribution, and they have been astounded at some of the slow, red-taped, unwieldy, ineffective manners of army business. Also they have had experiences of the West Point mind, which goes by the regulations, by the book; and they do not understand the necessary limitations of that book-guided, regulation- controlled mind at all. Some Great Civilians War is the business of the professional soldier, and the business of this war was begun, at least, in all its vast operations according to the plans and processes of professional soldiers. The young civilian business and professional men who went into the Army have watched those pro- cesses and have observed their limitations, their red-taped intricacies and all the rest; have seen great American business and pro- fessional men hurriedly called in to help, and know how much of the success of the war has depended on these men drafted from civil life for the executive positions. With the impetuosity of youth the civilian officers say that the system is all wrong. I do not know whether the system is wrong or not, but certainly in many of its workings it is incomprehensible; and I do know that without civilians like Stettinius, and Atterbury, and Dawes and Carty, and dozens more, it wouldn’t have been much of a war, so far as the army business end of it was concerned. However, no matter how good most of the civilian officers hold themselves to be, a lot of them were not any too good, but they have the advantage of being able to get out and think they were good, while the professional soldier must re- main to be the target. The Canadians have jor | organized their Comrades of the Great War, which will be a powerful political factgr in the Dominion. After Lloyd George declared for a general election following the armistice I talked to a number of British soldiers, March 15,1919 possibly a hundred at different times. Elab- orate preparations had been made by the British Government so the British soldiers might vote in the field. Blanks were sent to them, and they were urged to exercise their suffrages. Most of those I talked to told me they had thrown away their blanks and did not intend to vote. The election has been held since then, and I suppose statistics are made showing just how many soldiers did vote. I have no record of that. The soldiers I talked to were of the opinion that Lloyd George had snapped an election on them, that he was shrewdly and politi- cally trying for the indorsement he received so overwhelmingly through virtue of the victorious armistice. “Wait until a year or so from now,’ they all said. ‘“ Wait until we get out of the army and back home to England where we can do as we please, and we'll take a hand in this business.” The Dawn of Understanding These are the ideas that the American soldier, as I found him—and I made it my business to talk politics with a great num- ber of them, both officers and privates— holds, tentatively for the most part, but constructively so far as getting an organiza- tion is concerned. He has some grievances. He sees some rewards to be obtained. And among the best minds there is the con- certed opinion that inasmuch as their expe- riences have shown them the governmental lacks in the business of war there probably are governmental lacks in other directions and places—lacks that it may fall to them to remedy. The big fact of it is that this war and our entry into it have caused hundreds and thousands of young men who never gave the matter a thought before, to ask them- selves—and one another—just what this thing called government is—this power that can seize them, put them in an army, send them to France, make them fight, get them wounded and killed, submit them to rigid limitations as to life and conduct— what is this thing called government any- how? What makes it? Where does it get its powers? Who is responsible for it? Dimly, gropingly they are beginning to know that government derives its powers from such as they, instruments of it in its exemplifications in war and in peace—that they are the government. When they get the full realization of this, and sense the method of conferring governmental powers on governmental persons—officials—they will be quick to avail themselves of that method for which they themselves hold so formidable an agent—organization and concerted endeavor; quick to try to impress their own thoughts upon it, to shape it to their own ends and uses so far as may be. Finally, and there need be no misconcep- tion on this, the men who fought that war for us, and the men who were ready to fight it, but especially, the two million who were in France, are coming home with this firmly in theirminds: They are against war. They know that the so-called glory of it is swal- lowed up in death and disease and in name- less horrors and hardships. They are’against militarism because militarism means war. They are against militarism because they know what militarism means, having had experience of it. They know and, knowing, will be guided by what they know.

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assurance that Carlotta would presently appear returned to his cabbage. Dishes clattered behind drawn doors. Fervently Chester hoped that they didn’t compel a wonderful girl like Carlotta to wash dishes. True to her father’s promise, Carlotta did presently appear. She must have scurried upstairs by a rear way, for she entered majestically from the front stair- way. She seemed terrifyingly formal and was wearing a fur-collared cloak which Chester was sure he had seen on Mrs. Beam. Half the way over to Adelphi Hall Ches- ter’s attention was centered on his right elbow, which he had crooked like the handle of a jug in the event that Miss Beam might see fit to take his arm. It was the demand of etiquette, he knew, that a lady and gentleman should walk forth so linked. But Miss Beam remained obtuse. She chatted harmoniously on the topics of the day; Chester had no ears for the music. His arm was becoming numb from the wrist to the shoulder blade. At last he became aware that she had paused in her monologue and w as asking him a question. “What was that?” he inquired, straight- ening out his elbow and experiencing im- mediate relief. “Are you familiar with Robert’s Rules of Order?” “Why, no. I didn’t get that far in the book.” “‘Tt’s not in the book,” she informed him more coolly than he liked. He found his mind straying—seeing red with a pompon on top, and annoying, yellowish eyes dancing below. He won- dered if it had gone out of style for girls to take people’s arms “This is my first try,” he grunted. ‘Maybe I’d just better sit and watch.”’ “‘By no means!”” There was no appeal against that decision. “‘ You've begun none too early. I merely wished to warn you of one of the rules. When the informal discussion begins several people will prob- ably rise and ask for the floor. You must wait till you are recognized.” “TI know that,’’ said Chester rather shortly. ‘‘That’s the way they do at the class meetings.” “‘Splendid!” chimed the superlative Car- lotta; which so cheered his heart that he ceased caring whether she had taken his arm or not. A number of students were crowding in when they entered the hall, and Chester’s first vision in that temple of thundering eloquence was of a life-size oil painting which hung over the rostrum. It was a portrait of William H. Barbour, eminent jurist, once a presidential candidate, and known in Dyak as donor of the Barbour Oratorial Medal. The aspirant’s heart sank another notch when he saw that the audience was about equally divided be- tween the serious thinkers and the lighter set of the college. Which of the two he had more to fear he knew not at that moment. Later he found out. ‘Sit here,’’ whispered his spiritual guide, pointing to a vacant chair halfway down the aisle. He sank weakly into the place she had chosen for him and saw her settle herself among the speakers of the evening in the row nearest the platform. The chair- man was a lean, tall Scot whose clan name, McNabb, had been shortened by the lighter set to the convenient monosyllable Gabb. Freshmen were shoving into the back seats. The lofty Gabb strode to his place on the platform and rapped resuundingly. The air was vibrant with Goom. “The meeting will please come to order!” Was it a coincidence? the gavel dropped and the words were spoken Red Tam-o-’Shanter came dancing in under an increased convoy of adorers. Apparently she was playing fraternity against fraternity, for she had added Kappa Kappas to Gamma Gammas, and in the rear straggled The Spiggoty, jealously glow- ering “Oh, I didn’t think we’d be so conspicu- ous,” she giggled over the hush There were eight vacant seats right in front of the place where Miss Beam had set her Chester. Red Tam-o’-Shanter snuggled in between two gigantic Gammas, while Ramon de Silva, who was not athletic, occupied an end chair and turned pale with disappointed ambition. It was not until the exercises began that Red Tam changed from a mild annoyance At the instant’ THE SATURDAY EVENING POST THE BLOOMING ANGEL (Continued from Page 4) to an active nuisance. All was dignity with the exception of this Floss thing. On a front row, one finger supporting her ex- pansive brow, Miss Beam sat in concen- trated reflection; Gabb the chairman rose, and though he had an accordion-plaited face which he alternately bunched together and pulled out as he spoke of the treasurer’s report no normal Adelphian would have considered this fair fruit for satire. But he had no sooner opened his col- lapsible countenance than a smothered giggle from the row just ahead deflected Chester’s attention. It seemed that Red Tam was giving one of her apparently inimitable imitations. The subject of her sketch was quite apparently Mr. McNabb. She did it with her hands. She pretended to be playing an accordion accompaniment to the speaker’s words. Every time the face of Gabb closed up she would bring her hands together; when it lengthened out she would pull them rapturously apart, her little fingers going busily over imaginary keys. The two big Gammas were rocking with joy. The dark-browedGamma, out in the cold, permitted himself a nervous smile. ‘Cheese it, Floss!”’ gleefully warned her right-hand lummox. “‘ We’ll all be chucked.” “TI don’t care, do you?” responded the musician. ‘Wait till Hazzie reads the minutes of the meeting ‘ “Dod gast it!’’ muttered Chester. ‘If she does that when I’m speaking ———”’ But the behavior of this Floss during the treasurer’s report was of such a nature as to warrant a rebuke. Chester fidgeted as long as he could, then he leaned toward the scarlet headdress. He was tall enough to look over her shoulder, and while he was hesitating for words he spied that which turned his annoyance to a sort of panic fear. She was wearing flowers—an exaggerated bunch of marguerites. Ches- ter’s hands grew cold as along the base of his nose there passed a tickling itching thrill. Marguerites! The very thought of those flowers, which had always spelled hay fever for him, sickened his soul, brought swift tears of influenza to his eyes. His mother had been right. That box of Ajax Hay Fever Balm He huddled himself back, as far as pos- sible away from the menace. Desperately his eyes sought the rows of chairs. Not an empty seat in the hall. The place was packed to the doors. The agony of self- control kept his mind off the rostrum; but he was quite unable to restrain an occasional glance in the direction of that being whom he so passionately longed to kill. Strands of honey-colored hair showed under the red. tam; her complexion was high and clear, like that of a child who has been playing in the wind; once she turned her impudent glances far enough for him to see her eyes, which were bright gray with little golden flecks across the irises. _How pretty she was; and how unspeakable! At some indefinite point of time he heard applause and was aware that the cocksure affirmative had got down to give the negative a chance. Chairman McNabb unfolded himself to announce that Miss Carlotta Beam would next be heard from. Fe r’s sympathetic heart stood still Carlotta laid aside her cloak and undulated to the rostrum—saffron clad, serene, in- different of fate. She brought her right hand, half closed, to her breast in a gesture she had learned at a Delsarte school two seasons before. The room lay in a hush. Red Tam was heard distinctly to clear her throat. Chester held his gaze toward the platform, but something told him that Flossie had struck that very pose, and that Gamma and Kappa were equally enthralled. Words of wisdom flowed from a deep well-pitched voice where every ‘‘a”’ stood out broad and splendid, every paragraph enjoyed the advantage of a full stop. As winner of the William H. Barbour prize of last year Miss Beam held an advantage over lesser orators and showed it. She began with a simile of Pegasus and worked easily into the legend of Abraham Lincoln and the pine-knot fire. Chester’s thoughts flew rapidly to the subject of himself. “And before I close, Mister Chairman, ladies and gentlemen, permit me to repeat , “ “Enthusiasm,” He Resumed in a Desperate Bellow, ‘is Not the Normal State of Man"’ that application is but the work of man while genius is given to us by the grace of God. Application is me rely the wick by which the light is thrown, genius is the oil which The chairman’s gavel came down. It was evident that she had overtalked her time. Chester thought he heard a voice say ‘Coal oil.’”’ Was it that awful Red Tam-o’-Shanter? It didn’t so much matter then, because an idea had leaped full grown from his skull; one of those danger- ous things by which reputations are made or shattered at a stroke. Little he cared then for the rest of the debate; Chester sat rapt in contemplation— possibly he would not be able to get out the whole idea within the three minutes allotted to such as him according to the rules. The seconds finished and the principals leaped to the rebuttal. Even the precious words of Miss Carlotta Beam were wasted on her admirer, who crouched as though for a spring. He had quite forgotten the Red Tam and her talent for discord. Carlotta sat down at last. Then there fell an awful hush during which several officious ladies and gentlemen rose and filed into an anteroom. The collapsible Gabb unfolded his face to announce: ‘‘ While the judges are re tiring to formulate their decision the rules permit of an informal discussion from the floor. Each speaker is limited to three minutes. If there are any members who wish to speak ‘6 “Mister Chairman!” Several new members had come to stand- ing postures in various parts of the room, but Chester A. Framm seemed to have leaped halfway to the chandeliers in the wildness of his attack. Other voices were clamoring, but the distracted bellow of the inspirational laundryman drowned out all competitors. “Mr. Framm has the floor,” decreed the inexorable Gabb. Competition thus swept aside Chester found himself standing alone in the isola tion of greatness. He had already decided to employ Gesture Twelve, expressive of hatred, but in that flash of intelligence the devil in a tomato-colored cap caused him to look down on the little tormentor of the seat in front. The look of exaggerated in- terest she was turning up to him merely added to his confusion. He must have stood there an unneces- sarily long time, for he heard Gabb’s gener- ous offer repeated through the room: “ You have the floor, Mr. Franim.”’ The aspirant still stood, mentally thumb- ing the pages of Platform Elegance. Should he employ the gesture described in Cut Kighteen as Remorse or Pity? In a sort of panic he brought his hands to the proper position, but in the urgency of the moment clenched his fist quaveringly in an imita- tion of Cut Forty-six, descriptive of hatred. His arm came up to a stiff right angle; an unhappy impulse caused him to glance again at the girl in front. She, too, had brought her arm up to a stiff right angle. Chester A. Framm saw red, but maddened by the thought that something must be said and that immediately, he opened the floodgates and roared: ‘‘ Ladies and gentle men, enthusiasm are not ‘i He paused, cold with the fear that his audience was not with him. “Tf it aren’t, what are it?” came a still small voice right under his ear “Enthusiasm,” he resumed in a desper- ate bellow, “is not the normal! state of man.” With that he resumy d his chair—or would have resumed it had not the ¢ hi air turned traitor and slid out from under him, permitting Chester to take his seat he arti on the floor Adelphi howled Above the storm the gavel sounded like the blows of a hammer on a coffin lid. Blinded with his shame the boy orator got up and got out; but not too soon to hear Red Tam’s appre- ative comment ‘Isn't he fun-ny? Went off like a regular old alarm clock. I wonder who ever told him he could make a speech?” Once in the open air Chester hugged a Dorie column until the meeting broke up, and he could at last pick out Miss Beam chatting easily in a setting of seriou minded students Continued on Page 89

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86 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST March 15,1919 ‘Lhe Wonderful Story of Powdered Milk Powdered Milk—you have been using it on your table every day for 10 years Yes you have, too— That thin, brown, tender crust on the best baker’s bread is due to powdered milk. Those pancakes that you mix so easily by adding water only, are so good because they are ‘‘ready mixed with powdered milk.” The best cream candies, caramels, or milk chocolates and the smoothest, richest ice cream in most cases are made of powdered milk. Powdered milk is milk— without the water Milk is Ve water and Vg solids. These solids are in solution and are what give the milk its flavor, its color, and its food value. It is these solids that give us butter and cheese. It is evident that if all the water should be removed from milk, the solids would remain, and if the water were replaced it would be milk again, just as it was in the first place. ‘The water is removed without boiling the milk Every housewife knows that ‘ boil- ing down’’ is the easiest way to get rid of water. She boils down her soup stock to concentrate it and adds water when she makes soup. But boiling changes the flavor of milk. The problem for years was to find a process of removing the water from milk without cooking it--so that when the water was replaced it would be milk of natural flavor The Merrell-Soule Company found this process after years of experiment and research. The result of this process is Klim Powdered Mualk. A blizzard of milk ina warm room The process by which milk becomes Klim is simple, and knowing the process anyone can understand why Klim is milk. The original milk is put into a cylin- der and forced out through a tiny pin- hole by great pressure, so that it comes out in the form of a cloud or mist, just exactly as from a huge atomizer. This milk spray enters a chamber or room through which are blowing strong currents of filtered warm air. The milk is replaced you have milk as you have always known it—milk of milk flavor — milk you can drink and enjoy. The name KLIM is MILK spelled backward, because the fresh milk is re- stored by reversing the process which made Klim out of milk. It was given a name simply for Moisture Laden Air FIO paras” Pressii¥a —_—»> — —* Filtered KLIM _»* Warm Air > aw . all ar" A blizzard of milk ari | in a warm room & mist is whirled about the chamber just as you have seen the wind blow clouds of snow or fog. This warm wind immediately ab- sorbs the moisture in the milk and the solid portion falls like snow in drifts of powdered milk. The moisture-laden air passes out through muslin screens which prevent any of the powdered milk from escaping. That is all—it was milk when it entered the room of the winds—it was milk during the milk snowstorm — and it is milk when it settles in the powdery white drifts. Nothing has touched it but air. Nothing has been removed but water. Nothing is changed. When the water ‘ os ee

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ge ee — Milk becomes Klim when the water is removed THE SATURDAY EVENING POST KLI BRAND 87 Klim becomes Milk when the water is replaced POWDERED MILK identification, but it really should be called MILK because that is exactly what it is. Milk can be powdered where it is plentiful and used where there is a shortage. In the form of Klim, milk can be transported great distances in any cli- mate or season. It can be shipped by freight instead of fast express. It does not require refrigeration until it is restored to fluid form. Milk in powdered form, for these reasons, has been a great convenience during the war. Hospital-ships and military hospitals have by this means always had a supply of fresh milk for drinking and cooking regardless of distance. Bakers, confectioners, ice-cream makers, hospitals, hotels, institutions, and governments have been using powdered milk during the last 10 years because of its quality and convenience. Approved by food expert The following is quoted from a newspaper article giving an interview with Dr. Wiley on the subject of powdered milk. Dr. Wiley approves sending powdered milk to Europe Food expert declares plan will save lives of babies in France now without needed nourishment. * * * “When asked whether he thought the powdered milk being sent abroad was as valuable as a tissue builder as milk in its original form he gave his unqualified approval to the plan. ***Emphatically it is so; he said. ‘In fact, I have always contended that it is the best way to treat milk. In such form you preserve all that is pure and wholesome in it, and the treatment to This can makes 4 quarts of whole milk AND OWDERED MILK WHOLE MILK NET WEIGHT 118 RRELL- SOULE © ACUSE N.} SKIMMED MILE NET WEIGHT 118: makes DD a cf reel of RRELL Soult em RACUSE ON Oo trea eee This can rs Berean which it is subjected expels from it any matter calculated to do injury to the consumer. Of course, the process should be of such a character as to guarantee that the proportions of fat to protein shall not be disturbed. But that is a simple matter to determine— I mean, of course, simple to science. ***T have often thought that I would like to install a milk-drying process at my farm in Virginia. If I did this | could send a couple of pounds of pow- dered milk by parcel post to ‘a con- sumer in Washington for six cents transportation cost, and this would probably last a week.’”’ Bakers, confectioners, and te-cream makers should investigate powdered milk. It will pay those who afe not already using Merrell-Soule Powdered Milk to write for booklets explaining how their product can be improved, time saved, and shortage prevented. A demonstration by an expert can be arranged at your own plant. How to get Klim for use at home So many housewives wish to get Klim for home use that we have decided to fill orders by parcel post. Klim is not for sale at stores Klim comes in 2 forms— Powdered Whole Milk( Full Cream). Powdered Skimmed Milk. Send the coupon and One Dollar for a can of each kind, sufficient to furnish your customary supply for several days. Write for interesting booklet telling about Klim for the home. MERRELL-SOULE COMPANY SYRACUSE, N. Y. Klim Powdered Milk is manufactured and ld Canada by the Canadian Milk Products, Led Principal Office, Toronto, Ontari« eee Se ee ee es = | Merrell-Soule Company Syracuse, N. Y. Enclose 1 find One Dollar ($1.00) for which please ena me 1 Ib. Package of Klim Powdered Whole Milk (Full Cream) 1 Ib. Package of Klim Powdered Skimmed Milk. It is understood that th quantity when re to fluid form, according to directions, will produce 4 quarts of full cream milk l juar of skimn nilk Name Adare City Stat

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March 15,1919 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST SS Time-thrif t! Speed is man’s means of saving that most precious of all Because Mimeographing commodities— time. is the speediest method of duplicating all kinds of letters and forms it has taken its place among the ife. Dictate a letter great economies of modern business life and within the hour the Mimeograph will deliver thou- sands of completed copies ready for distribution. Its steady grist 1s nearly a hundred duplications a minute—exact and well printed facsimiles of the original typewritten or Drawings too may easily be included handwritten sheet. thereon. With the least possible delay the Mimeograph bridges the distance from your thought to the many who Booklet “S” is should receive it. Real time-thrift, that! A. B. Dick aeepany Chicago—and New York now ready. aM | NAL Wii Ui di AA ye IN, {i } i Wall i\ A cal aCe

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} t J ‘ \ i 0 te rt ‘ | t { { \ He, ee (Continued from Page 85) “What happened to you?” was her very natural question as soon as he got her dis- entangled. The fact that she took his arm added a little warmth. “I got started all right,” he lamely apolo- gized to his instructress. “‘And then that Floss girl is : “She’s been a disturbing influence ever since she came to college!’’ Carlotta in- formed him with nearer a show of temper than he had ever before seen in her. “Girls like Florabel Brannon take all the dignity out of coeducation. Last Wednesday in English 2-B she told father that she thought the Decameron was Scott’s best novel. She insisted that it must be by Scott, because Decameron was such a Scottish word. Fancy! ‘*Please overlook her. She won't be here long. And don’t let yourself be discour- aged. Demosthenes, you know, started with a pebble under his tongue.” “A pebble!” he groaned. “I swallowed a sand wagon!” But he was ever so grateful to her just the same. “You have something over two months to prepare for the Barbour medal contest,” she said before bidding him good night by her little jig-s sawed door. “You don't mean to say I’ve got any chance The thought stunned him. “Why, surely! I fully intend that _ you shi all enter for the contest and win it. ‘By ginger, you have got faith!” “Yes —a great deal—in you,” her rich contralto rolled out as she gave him her hand And this was the first time that it ever dawned upon Chester A. Framm that women are peculiar, He repeated the reflection, however, as soon as he got back to the flat over the Bon Ton Laundry and found his mother, clad in her best widow's frock, waiting for him under the lamp. ““Where in the world have you been?’ he asked, for never before in his college days had he seen el in formal costume. “To the Adelphi meetin’,”’ she told him. “T stood up for hours a-waiting for you to begin. I just told you to take that box of Ajax salve.” Chester groaned and went to bed. Neither Ajax nor Helen could salve his wound. But he was no sooner between the sheets than she came to him, intent upon the ma- ternal process known as tucking in. It al- ways made Chester feel like a freshman. “That Carlotta Beam is a smart girl,” she insisted. ‘‘Sort of wonderful and full of brains. I bet she'll make a President of the United States out of the man she marries.” “I shouldn’t wonder,” agreed Chester, his thoughts already wandering toward possibilitie ag. ‘Not one of them cigareet-smoking chits with circus clothes. No, sir-ree!’’ “She’s different,” his mother would leave him alone and per- mit him to follow the glowing progress of his dreams. ‘I wonder if she ain’t just a mite older than you?” The son made no response; therefore the mother went out and closed the door softly after her. mu OW Carlotta Beam did have faith in Chester A. Framm and did coach and groom him to the point of perfection whereby he was able to outface fate and win an oratorical medal—one of those solid-gold trophies as big as a dinner plate and engraved with laurel wreaths in high relief —constitutes nothing more than a climacteric point in a college career. And since college days bear but a faint resem- blance to real life the oratorical medal is en- titled to merely a semicolon’s worth in the history of Chester A. Framm. Something like two weeks after the Adel- phi fiasco he came again into actual contact with that pestiferous Red Tam-o’-Shanter. It was a sloppy day, and Chester, coming round a corner of the old Chemistry Lab, was attempting to manage a cotton um- brella and a notebook with the same hand. With every struggle to open the umbrella he lost a little influence over the notebook, which had a slippery cover and a passion for getting itself lost. At last he suc- ceeded in spreading the canopy over his head, but upon the instant the sly little book popped out from his elbow and landed plump in a coffee-colored pool beside the path. said Chester, hoping’ THE SATURDAY “You've lost your notes, Mr. Cicero,” came a naive treble out of the bole of an ancient live oak by the corner. He tilted his umbrella and got the drip down his collar as he leaped to one side and beheld the wet little dryad of the oak. Red Tam, after the manner of chameleons, had turned to green; or, to be more explicit, Miss Brannon was wearing a greenish waterproof creation with just one rubbery yellowish flower above the brim. “Thank you,” said he haughtily, groping with his hat as he leaned down to salvage the wreck. But as he was shaking out its dripping covers, what should this Flossie do but come over r and take it away from him “Tf you turn it that way,” she said, ‘‘the mud gets inside. And then who can tell what great big thoughts will be all gummed together!"’ As she was only a girl, and a small one at that, Chester could neither hit her nor swear aloud. So he stood in the wet and watched her deft little fingers as she tore a shred of paper from a damp candy box and set about drying the notebook. It was one of those irritating situations in which an enemy offers a spoonful of good to indemnify a continent of evil. “There,” she smiled —oh, so adorably! as she gave it back to him. “‘ And now you aren’t going to offer me half of your um- brella or anything as far as Miss Thomp- kins’?”’ “Ah. May I have the pleasure?” he asked, stiffly changing the umbrella to a sheltering position. “If vou call it a pleasure,”’ she said; and got very close to him under the cotton eaves before informing him: ‘‘ Umbrellas are a joke—unless you're in love.” “oO.” He looked shyly down at that mobile, flashing little face and wondered what she was driving at. Was she hinting that he turn the umbrella over to her? “‘Of course you've never been in love.” Something about her inspired him to this impe ae nce. * he She gave one of those awful little trills. “About a hundred and twenty times, I guess.”’ He strode grimly along, carefully manip- ulating the umbrella so as to keep her dry. ‘I bet you’re a noble character,”’ said she after a while. “Why?” “You're letting the cutest waterfall run onto your hat—all on account of poor little me.” He adjusted the handle in such a way that poor little she should get her share of rain after that. ‘You're not really truly awfully mad at me, are you?” she chirped as soon as they had got halfway down the path. He felt uncomfortably like The Spiggoty, whom he had overheard fuming at the same question “Why should e?”’’ he asked, looking down {from his exalted plane. Her eyes, he found, were neither gray nor yellow. Gold dust had been spilled into liquid crystal. Her nose was slightly snubbed. She had prankish eyebrows, tweaking up at the corners “Course you shouldn’t,”’ she was quick to respond. “I always go to the debatir “ society because it’s more fun than amateur night. And say—-youewere wonderful! Your arm went up like a traveling crane and then the steam drill started in. Oh, you C ice ro!” “Tf I afforded you amusement I feel myself fully repaid,”’ he assured her “I knew you would!” she chimed. “It’s just what I’ve been thinking about you.” “About me?” “Oh yes! I think about ev-erybody She gave him a stare which at that moment was as blank and as innocent as a baby’s “What have you been thinking about me?” A little shutter in his heart had come loose and was flapping. ‘I think you’re a great big noble grand man,” she eulogized. ‘“* You wouldn't mind anything I could do any more than a splen did iron statue would get mad at the kat) dids skipping round it having a good ti ime. “Are you laughing at me?” “Cross my heart.” No crease of mirth was apparent upon those wonderful cheeks, sweeter by far than Hybla’s honeyed roses. This seemed a fair moment in which to say his say with her. “There are things in life,”’ he began, ‘much more important than having a good time.’ “Oh, is there?” she asked, her eyes wid- ening to a look of wonder. EVENING POST “Yes, there is—are, I mean.’ “You always get your ‘is’s’ and your ‘are’s’ twisted, don’t you!” This time her giggle was unmistakable. He shut up like a clam. Whereupon she snuggled very close against his wet sleeve “‘What’s more important than having a good time?” she coaxed; and Chester was truly frightened by the heady sensation it gave him “Well,” said he, ‘‘there’s ambition.” “Oh, I forgot about Napoleon,” was the way she took it. ‘*What’s your ambition, Mr. Cicero?” Despite the implied insult he stuck to it. ‘I’m going in for a public career.” “Sure. I know—one of those great big howling whooping orators like Horace Greeley +4 ‘Horace Greeley was a journalist,”’ he corrected her. “T always mix up my historical heroes,” she told him with the little-girl humility of which she was capable. ‘‘I haven’t got any mind. But I know what you mean. Ora- tory is won-derful. There was a gentleman lived next to us in town. He drank. On Saturday nights—rain or shine—he'd get full on Bourbon and begin orating. My Cousin Nannie and I used to crawl out on the veranda roof listening to him. He was splendid —especially when he got profane It was per-fectly delicious until one night he thought he was Julius Cwsar, put on a nightshirt and crawled out on the roof and began — Hello. Why, here we are at Miss Thompkins’.”’ Sure enough, they were. Chester found himself at the gate, actually shaking hands with her and lingering as he shook. He wondered what Carlotta would say, if any thing ‘You're in the laundry business, aren't you?” inquired the remarkable being, bringing the thought out of the nowhere. Chester’s neck grew hot with a sudden flush “Yes. That is, temporarily “Until you can move into the Hall of Fame. I don’t see any reason why you should be ashamed of it.”’ “‘Who’'s ashamed of it?”’ he asked with inelegant directness. “IT should think the laundry business would be great. The Chinese think of all the fine things first. If I had a business like that I'd work it up into the wholesale and be the biggest laundryman in the world, bar none. Say, can you blow water through your teeth onto the shirts the way the Chinamen do?” Getting no encouraging response she went right on: ‘I'd rather be a crackajack laundryman than Shakspere or any other of those tin statues on top of the museum.” “*Shakspere isn't on top of the museum,” e corrected her ayvain ‘He ought to be,” said she; and by the way she said it it was easy to infer that she regarded the museum as a storehouse for discarded reputations ’ ‘I’m pleased to meet you,” he fumbled ‘I bet I know exactly what’s the matter with you,” she insisted, holding on to his hand ‘Matter with me?” “Yeah. You never have any fun after dark.” ‘Don’t 1?” He had never thought of that. ‘This college is a morgue. I’ve flunked in four subjects this week and if I stick ar other month it’s because God loves the Irish. If I go home now Aunt Het'll tie a flatiron to my leg and drop me in the bay She wants to make a school-teacher out of me. Can you beat it?” a ( an’t,” he heartily agreed. **T tell you what let’s do—why don’t you come ro to-night and pretend you're helping me with my psychology?” *To-night?”’ “Sure! Just stick round until Mis Thompkins turns the hose on you.” ‘I shall be pleased.” He got away under his soggy umbrella. Behind bleachers he paused and cor sidered his case. He had promised Carlotta to come round at eight with the first draft of his oration, the subject of which was to be William of Orange I The prospect was wild mi T WAS on the evening of the twenty seventh of January that Chester A. Framm with the aid of Ajax Balm got his semicolon’s worth of glory in the shape of the William H. Barbour medal, which when it was pinned on by a loquacious dean looked bigger than a barrel head &9 and felt twice as heavy. For a full half hour he had thundered on episodes mostly cribbed from Motley’s Dutch Republic, for a full half hour he had painted the Duke of Alva as black as he undoubtedly was and the Prince of Orange as white as he proba bly wasn’t. Miss Carlotta Beam had sat in the front row in order to give him cour age. Chester, from hypothesis to conclu sion, had kept his eyes on a pink spot the baleony which, so he imagined it, rey resented Flossie Brannon in an evening gown. The dean predicted very fine things for Chester’s future as he fastened the elabo rately engraved decoration upon Chester swelling breast The rostrum smelled of ,cut flowers, « caping gas and sachet powder. The eve ning was pitched in the highest key of glory, but like all earthly glory it stunned rather than exalted After the exercises the faculty gave a reception—think of it!—to Chester A Framm. It was held in the college library Who’s Who in Dyak assembled to shake him by the hand, and Chester, who should have been a proud and happy man, experi enced the first pain of a breaking heart They were standing right under the bust of Robert Burns, fitting witness to such a plight, and the young orator was trying to look interested while his triumphant mother held his hand, bidding him listen to Surrogate Judge Foster and the Reverend Mr. Smiley quarreling over whether the boy should go in for the law or the min istry Carlotta, impressive in her white muslin, held aloof among the young in structors, and Chester would have thanked her then and there for what she had dons for him had not Mrs. Beam come hissing up to gloat like a cultured vampire. Her changed attitude toward Mrs. Framm al ready indicated that the match was as good as made. In all the tumult and the shouting Che: ter’s mind was not on his success. His eyes wandered round the room seeki! t which was not worth worrying over. He got a glimpse from Carlotta which plainly said “‘Come hither,’’ but he remained di consolately between Mrs. Beam and Mrs Framm, to be embarrassed by the latter’: clattering on: “As . was saying to Ike Whittell *The y'l as COZY as two peas ina pod them two. It ‘tolen a girl like Carlotta to bring out Chest T's fine points,’ says 1; and Ike Say E: ve ") body in Dyak came to shake hands with Chester. Everybody, did I sa Chester's attention continued to wander Could it be poss sible that after the froth of gossip she had whipped up round the un versity, after the tantalizing dance she had led poor Framm, after the pangs of jeal ousy she had created in the Beam house hold — Flossie Brannon was too indifferent 9 to his well-being to show up He caught the flash of her pink gown at last as she came in at the far end of the room, closely followed by The spiggoty, who wore a dinner jacket, as became a worldly Gamma. She never looked toward the hero of the evening; Ramon de Silva seemed all in all to her at that moment. As though sharing the sweetest secret in the world the two sauntered through and disappeared into the auditorium beyond A moment later the notes of a piano throb hing ragtime violated the dignity of Che ter’ reception *‘Mercy!” hissed Mrs. Beam. ‘It’s quite against the rules.” “It’s that yellow-haired hussy again,” intimated Mrs. Framm *T'll see that it’s stopped.” Chester volunteered this noble service and strode away toward the shocking noise He had frequented M Thompkins’ suffi ciently of late and atter ed to outsit de Silva often enough to know The Sp ggot killful touch at the kevboard From the great square piano be nd the palms ! notes were capering merrily, and through the exotic folhage Chester « uuld see scrap ol pink — periorming evolutior t te at iance with the rules. Once be in nd the shel tering palms the self-appoint« censor saw what he saw: Flossie was ex cuting the cakewalk, then in vogue. Listen at him, Cicero!” she crowed. “Spig’s new piece—The Potato Bug Parade.” ‘It’s against the rules,”’ said Chester severely Who cares for the rule I'm fired any how,”’ quoth she caressingly. ‘Let ‘er go, Spig!” (Centinued on Page 92)

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90 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST March 15,1919 THE OIC HK i HERE is a greater awakening for America in the return of the young man than there was in his going to war. He comes back the same boy perhaps, but a dif- ferent man. His ideas are changed. He has reached heights and sounded depths unknown to the rest of us. He is old in tragic experience, but young in spirit and daring; and with a strangle-hold on a few fundamental truths. Many of the old things do not matter to him, but he has a new sense of the things that are worth while—and he must be right, because he has faced stark facts. Life to him is more sharply accentuated—at once lighter and more serious. A Truer Sense of Values He has a better measure of men and things. He knows how to gauge a store or a maker. He is a keen judge of motives. He knows something of the war profiteer, and peace-time repent- ance leaves him’ unconvinced. He knows the difference be- tween price and value. There is no lure in the thing he does not want. He knows the war-record of The House of Kuppenheimer through their service uniforms, as well as their civilian clothes. He knows “it’s steady as does it,’ and that throughout the whole war period, as well as now, Kuppenheimer prices were based on the cost of material and labor with a small profit on an enor- mous turnover. A Clothes-change Not Merely a Change of Clothes We know this: the best is not too good for him, and the old ways, the old styles, will not do. He wants all the “dog” he can get and he is entitled to it. It is not he that needs readjustment, but America must be readjusted to him. There is far too little recog- nition of this in the things offered for his use and wear—a mere continuation or modification of f Ta The HOUSE OF KUPPENHEIMER , 2) 4 A National Clothes Service CHICAGO U.S.A Te ee ee —— ——

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‘ ee en ee SN Se am «as ——— t ; THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 91 MIEN the old rather than the ringing challenge of the new. A Different Type of Man His very physique is changed. He is down in the waist, with short back and full chest. This means entirely new designing of his clothes as well as a new and true interpretation of his mood. Why don’t all the makers see this? The style restrictions that hampered the genius of design are now removed. The wanted fabrics in beautiful patterns are here. Must the war-cloud still darken the sun P Must one still pad around in “military models” or in clothes cut on the old civilian propor- tions? Is there no end to dull monotony ? Must the Spring sunshine reveal nothing in the show-win- dow butastyle-nameand analibi? With the House of Kuppen- heimer the Lid is off. The dominant note in young men’s styles for Spring had to be struck by a virile, living hand. It comes from The House of Kuppenheimer, the fastest grow- ing clothing house in America, the house that has doubled its business in the last four years, and speaks with authority as the de- signer of styles for young men. A Live Issue fora Live Concern The right of a retail clothier to sign under his firm name the legend—The Kuppenheimer House of New York, or Boston, or Detroit, or any other town or city—is a definite property right, and a powerful asset to a store. It is so recognized throughout the mercantile world. It means the right to represent the style-creations and tailored product of this house: the right to sell clothes of guaranteed qual- ity and known merit. It means a franchise unsur- passed by that of any other trade- building, trade-marked specialty in America. To-+ = ‘> A National Clothes Service CHICAGO U.S.A Fhe HOUSE OF KUPPENHEIMER Tos)

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An inex- pensive ‘ Drop Out" Renewal Link re- stores ‘a blown Economy Fuse to its original efficiency. The Economy is the pilonees renewable fuse. As compared with the use of one-time fuses, it cute annual fuse maintenance costs approximately 80% ECONOMY FUSE & MFG. CO. Kinzie and Orleans Sts. CHICAGO, U. 5. A. Sole manufacturers of “ARK LESS the Non-Re mewable Puse with the 100" Uwaranteed I adicator Economy Fuses are also made m Canada at Menireal —- THE SATURDAY (Continued from Page 8&9) “Look here, Framm, on whose authority are you giving orders here?” growled the | Spaniard, staying his harmonic fingers and wheeling on the piano stool. “On the authority of the college,” re- plied the boy orator. The Spiggoty had come to his feet and his beetling brow was drawn down almost to the base of his nose. He was consider- ably smaller than Chester. This, possibly, | had saved him on several occasions. ‘I see.” The Spiggoty’s teeth were large and heshowed them toadvantage. ‘‘ You’re the dean, I suppose; and the Committee on Student Affairs and Flossie spluttered her wild delight, for troub le was her natural element. | storm!” “Spiggy- Wiggy’s got another brain she giggled, danei ing in between the dangerous pair. ‘‘Gosh, Spig, if you only knew how funny you look “'T should like to know by whose author- ity ” he was taking up the refrain when she cut in: ‘I'll tell you, Spig! Why don’t you go and look it up?” | eyes got him ““What—look up what?” “The authority. Possibly the dean would know; or the registrar.” “T see.” “Now run along, kitten. And the miracle of it was that Spig did run along, spitting like an angry leopard, yet undoubtedly obeying. She was a hyp- notist, nothing less. Chester would have laughed, but the occasion for him held no humor. “Don’t ask me to have another glass of lemonade,” she went right on, as soon as they were alone. “It hasn’t even got lem- ons in it. Gee! Isn’t it lucky you don’t dance! Because it’s awful to know how and not be allowed. It’s just the way drunkards must feel when they’re locked up with saloons all round them. There’s one next to my aunt’s house in San Francisco—a drunkard, I mean.” “Yes, he thought he was Julius Ca#sar and crawled out on the roof.” “So he did. I always repeat my stories.” So she rattled along, obviously temporiz- ing. She had a way of snuggling, and to- night she was practicing her art on Chester as the two leaned against a window sill. His heart stood still, waiting for something it was breaking to hear. Not a word. He might have been a casual guest instead of the orator of the evening for all the impor- tance she gave to his sorecent triumph or to the large gold plaque conspicuously pinned to the front of his frock coat. “What's this about your being fired?” he asked after one of his looming pauses. “Yeah,” she agreed; “I flunked out two weeks ago.” “You didn’t say anything about it to me. “Didn't 1? terested, maybe. The yellowish gleam of her half-closed a fatal wound. It was then that he gave up; knew why he had treated Carlotta so shabbily to-night; realized that these unworthy weeks he hadn't been devoting his evenings to Miss Thompkins’ boarding house merely for the intellectual upliftment of Miss Florabel Brannon. In- Spig. That’s a dear I didn’t think you'd be in- | tellectually she was irreclaimable. And yet “Then I suppose you're going home,” he managed to say after clearing his throat. “This morning Old Goggles’’—by this she meant the registrar—‘‘notified me. The darling was sore as a boil. I’m an out- law. I don’t know why he let me come to this party—unless he’s afraid to leave me unwatched.” “When do you go?” tunate. “On the eight-thirty-one to-morrow. And how I hate to get up!"" She yawned in anticipation. Not a word for him! repeated the unfor- Her eyes were rov- ing toward the library door, through which, too apparently, she expected The Spigguty to return, cooled and repentant. EVENING POST Vanity strangling pride, he shuffled his pose and asked as carelessly as he knew how: “I don’t suppose you heard the—er— speaking?” “Didn't I, though! Wasn’t itascream?”’ Of course. That was how she would take it. “T wasn’t aware —— “That was what made it so funny,” she giggled. ‘You weren’t aware—not the least little bit. What was the name of ae gentleman you stood up and shouted about?” “William of Orange. “‘What a peculiar name! Now if I was going to be a historical hero I wouldn’t name myself after any kind of fruit. All during your sermon I was thinking how awful it would be to have people call you Henry of Lemons or Charlie the Apple Man. Now you're going to get mad again.” He thrust his hands deep into his pock- ets and took a shuffling step away. It was fortunate for Dyak and for him that she was going to-morrow morning. “Chester!” She called it after him in the sweetest little voice. It was the first time she had ever called him anything but Cicero. The perfumed anesthetic unsteadied him and when he turned toward her she was giving him the full benefit of her gaze; her lovely c heeks were bright as peonies. ““You’re an absurd sort of kid,”’ she took up her theme as soon as he had got back to the window sill. “With your hair trimmed anda snappy business suit on I think you’d really do.” “Do for what?” he growled, trying to back away. But she was holding him fast by the broad lapels of his frock coat. “Oh, just do. You're a regular hand- some wretch, Chester A. Framm. But you do need trimming.” He stood there like a mass of putty be- tween her soft white hands; a passionate mass of putty which longed to clasp her and make romantic avowals that would have been wasted on her frivolous ears. One of those mischievous hands had now strayed up to the William H. Barbour gold medal and had given it two swift downward jerks, after the manner of a conductor stz arting a street car. ‘Jing-jing!”’ she chirped. “Great Scott!” groaned Chester, cover- ing the trophy from her further profana- tion. “‘Oh see the pretty badge! The Grand High Mookum of the Refreshment Com- mittee at the Sons and Daughters of Ararat Annual Barbecue. Poor old Cicero! Have you got to wear it round everywhere, even to bed?” “‘Floss, you’re—awful,” he told her with less severity than he had intended. “Did it take you all this time to find it out? Well now, you'd better go back and join your tragedy queen.” This, then, was to be good- by. With all his suspected genius Chester had no avowal worthy of the occasion. ‘m—I’m sorry you didn’t like my speech,” he blurted. ““Whew!” she whistled and burst into a peal of laughter. “‘Who in the world ever told you you could make a speech?” “*Good-by,”’ said he shortly, holding out his hand. “So long,” heaven, maybe. He now took his departure to avoid the approaching Spiggoty. “Chester.” Again that sweet small note rang after him. He came rapidly back. “Won't you give me that badge just as a—you know—one of those souvenir things?” How wonderful is man! Without a word he loosened the golden pin from his coat and with trembling fingers fastened the William H. Barbour medal to the cluster of pink chiffon over the place where her heart should have been. There were some five or six fraternity pins already there. “Why can’t I see you to the train in the morning?”’ he pleaded quite deliriously. ” responded Floss. “‘See you in March i5, i919 “Oh, that will be splen-did!” she cried. Spiggoty was now within hearing distance. “Of course there'll be quite a bus load, but do come!”’ Next morning at a little before eight he picked up the bus just as it was rounding the museum toward Miss Thompkins’ boarding house. The bus contained but one other passenger so far. It was The Spiggoty, and over his hateful knees he held a long box, obviously bearing flowers. They were as nothing to one another, though the drive was some minutes long and they were permitted to sit out in the cold while Flossie kissed Miss Thompkins, forgot her hand bag, went back for her umbrella, remembered she had packed it, and kissed Miss Thompkins again before she smilingly announced that she was ready. On the way to the station Chester sat in uncomfortable expectancy that the Gam- mas and the Kappas might at any moment storm the wagon in competitive good-bys. But their ride was unmarred by any such incident. Apparently Floss had sifted the college down to the present pair. She took De Silva’s flowers and called him a sweet- heart. They were barely in time for the train, and the picture of Miss Brannon being tossed aboard a moving coach, fol- lowed by hand bags and flower boxes, was not a romantic last glimpse. Just a flash of pinkish feather and of eyes that were in- toxicating like yellow wine. Her voice and her influence were submerged in distance. Chester A. Framm and Ramon de Silva, equally young, equally disillusioned, stood a moment in all the pathos of their heroic attitudes. Chester had an impulse to speak to The Spiggoty and suggest that their by- gones should be wiped out in what was too plainly a bygone. Instead the unmedaled orator turned toward the east gate of the campus. Splashing through the seasonable mud he could descry a lone bicycle, female in sex, winding its way from Faculty Row to the Quad. Carlotta Beam, even though en- gaged in the undignified work of pedaling, still looked the goddess that she was. He wasn’t sure that she hadn’t witnessed that good-by. Asa matter of fact he didn’t care. iv PRIL sunshine was on the California valleys and Chester A. Framm was already struggling with his valedictorian address when the Floss Idea interfered to wreck his program, as it always did. Hav- ing wiped her off the slate he had found life’s problem less difficult, if dreary at times. He had reserved Commencement Day as the occasion upon which he should ask Carlotta Beam to marry him. It was a logical step upward on the ladder of fame. He had taken it for granted that she would accept him and he was justified in the belief. Possibly the certainty of it had delayed him so long. On the very eve of the Floss Idea his divine instructress had taken him in hand gently, patiently, as was her wont. “We mustn't rest on opr laurels,” she had told him over the scribbled notes for his new oration. “I want your commence- ment address to be the best work of your life thus far. No steps backward. The William H. Barbour medal”’—she never asked him what had become of it; that was suspicious—‘‘ marked the first awakening. Your commencement address must be your challenge to life, your defiance to petty things, mean vanities and—disturbing in- fluences.” Did she mean Floss? Surely this girl, already a woman in mind and ability, was of too noble a cast to harbor spite against a mere red tam-o’-shanter. Carlotta Beam was the finest woman he had ever met. He had never met many, that was true. But she had within her an ideal and a strength that seemed to warp other women to the realm of insects, where they belonged. On the night before the Floss Idea he walked home under the springtime stars, (Continued on Page 94) Ae ee ge a ee te

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It is a comfortably fitting rubber shield which can be worn with any aes Three sizes, 0c each. nions, f alle nare che ain « li r pa nisaf 1 ' t i Appliance which i” « onic wt. Drs -holli Foot C ma te a whethes ueuffe om b fla } aot There | a choe dealer in your los ality whose! Dr S i Foot ifort lance ae has mtr tin t a | the ache e of giy ing fox g comic rt He doves rve your petronast Send for Free Booklet Boake, | the Fe nat pad Ths ir Care,” } Ir Wim, M. Sch thority on all toot troubles, « = free n re ~~! mat The Scholl Mfg. Co. Dept. Ci 213 W. Schiller St Chicago | tance THE SATURDAY (Continued from Page 92) picturing to himself numerous public occa- sions, affairs of nation-shaking impor- Chester A. Framm always the cen- tral figure in the group; his wife, always | an invisible influence for good, somewhere in the background. Next morning a boy on a bicycle brought a telegram over from the station. Fortu- | nately for Chester his mother was at work in E AN EXPERT F secutive Accountants command big salaries shoe » firme need them. Only 2,500 Certified Public Accountants in 1 earn ing 88.000 to bc a ap ar. We train by mail in spare time for C. P on aminations ntir ma. Knowlec whe book keep- wary to be xin we pres yare you fre ath re ground i « ree and ice are under 7, supervision of W liam 8 Castenh« ie A. M., C. P . Fe mer ¢ mp trotler and Inetructor, University of tinina via, assisted by eteff of C. P. A’s, including me mbere ae American Insti tute of Accountants. Low tuition fe asy terms, Write now for infc mation and free book of Ace suBtancy facts, LaSalle Extension University, Dept. 371-HAB, Chicago “The World's Greatest Extension University” | the back of the laundry, so he got the mes- senger paid off and the envelope open unde- tected. “Meet me important lunch noon College Inn. FLoss.” And wasn’t it ridiculous and unheard-of and just like Floss? Chester had never known of anything quite so absurd. He hadn’t the remotest idea of meeting her “important lunch noon College Inn.” That was settled. In the first place there was a history quiz at eleven-thirty. In the sec- ond place he hadn’t a red cent beyond a handful of laundry money which rightfully belonged to his mother. In the third place he hadn’t any clothes be »yond the dreadful sack suit he wore and his ceremonial cut- away; and the College Inn was a rather horsy place, specializing in red steaks and brown ale at San Francisco prices—a fash- ionable rendezvous for the gilded youth of Dyak who could afford fine food outside the college dry belt. Of course he would do nothing of the kind. Strengthened by this resolve he stopped at Baum’s Toggery Shop and bought himself a dollar necktie. He needed it undoubtedly, to wear to his history quiz. At eleven o'clock he strolled by the College Inn and paused before its smart Tudor ¢ front to take a look at the place. It wasn’t far out of his way to the classroom; just a mile or so. He put on something of the swagger he had noted among the lighter set and walked into the big dining room, which was done in frowning oak, with pewter mugs along the shelves, university shields painted on the frescoes, and in a far corner little stalls holding tables for two. After all, thought Chester A. Framm, she had wired him, not The Spiggoty. Then the awfal thought got him by the throat: How did he know she hadn't wired The Spiggoty? He got out before a waiter could head him off and strolled sheepishly round the town, rumpling in his pockets the few hard- earned bills wrested from the laundry busi- ness. His mother owed him that much, he felt; she] was making money and he was doing a great deal for what he got. He looked at his dollar watch. It was lacking six minutes of twelve. He turned and al- most ran toward the College Inn. A bus from the train was just stopping at the door when he swung into view. A girl ina green coat—it was the brightest coat he had ever seen—got out and caused the driver to whoop with delight as she handed up her fare. Chester was still of a mind to run away, because he knew that Flossie had kept her appointment. ‘Hello, old Goober!” was her first ad- dress to him as she took both his hot hands in her little gloves. ‘‘ How’s fame?” ““I—I don’t know,” he faltered, studying the face which seemed to trick him out of everything he revered in life. “I haven't been wate hing very closely.’ “My word!” she exc laimed. “I thought that Hissing Hattie’s angel dé aughter would have you in Congress by now. She had tiptoed up the steps and was leading the way into the dining room. Once inside she made a bee line for one of the small stalls at the end of the room. “Order me pounds and pounds of raw meat,”” she commanded as soon as they were seated; and when a chubby waiter had made his appearance, “ Hello, Harry! ag “Good morning, Miss Brannon.” He was smiles all over, as Flossie’s environ- ment was apt to be. “I thought you quit.” “I did. And Harry, bring in one of those deep-dish things full of grass and toma- toes—and if you love me don’t pour any of | th at linseed stuff over it.’ “TI won't, Miss Brannon,” avowed the humblest of her adorers. ‘And oo—have you got some of that sweetheart old dove of a clam chowder you used to have?” “The very same; quite good, Miss Bran- non.” “Forward march!” turbing influence. “I’m so hungry,” soon as they were alone, ‘ sauerkraut. commanded the dis- she told Chester as ‘that I could eat EVENING POST “So am I,’ he confessed. It was strange, but this was the first occasion for months when he had looked forward to his food. “And you're going to ask, ‘To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit to?’ I know you are. Dear old Cicero—will you be just too dreadfully shocked for words if I tell you that I’ve missed you?” “Not half so much as I’ve missed you,” he heard his trancelike tones repeating. “Not really!” And to his ineffable sur- prise her eyes grew bright with tears “Has anything happened, Flossie? Any- thing in the world that I can do for you?” “Happened!” As suddenly she was laughing again. “Cicero, what couldn’t happen to me?” “You've stated the case,” he agreed, and smiled one of his solemn smiles. “Well, you see Aunt Het—she’s awfully funny when she gets mad. She has false teeth and Hello, here’s the sweetheart old chowder!” The connection between teeth and tem- per was left unexplained while Flossie Brannon went at her food with a vigor most unmaidenly. “We're awfully early and jay,” she vol- unteered after her = on had been half cleared. “But this is a business man’s lunch. The train goes back at three- twelve.” “Goes back where?” ane = San Francisco, Mr. Geese.” “O She reverted to her chowder. Three early Kappas filed in, gave a dramatic start and settled down ata table in an opposite corner. Flossie Brannon never looked their way. Chester was ineffably grateful, partly be- cause an interruption would have maddened him, partly because Kappas and Gammas with their worldly airs made him more awk- ward than Nature had intended him to be. “So your Aunt Het,” he prompted her as soon as steak impended. “She always loses her false teeth when she gets mad. Think of anybody not being glad to see me! She stuck me in a dungeon dire and said that I was worse than my grandfather. Of course that’s a slander. Then she trotted out Mr. Blink; he’s just desperate to marry me and I had a lot of fun spoiling his life for a few weeks ns “Who's this Mr. Blink?” he huskily inquired. “That isn’t the name on his office door. He's worth three hundred and six squillion dollars and he’s so near blind that he couldn’t see me half the time when I was making faces at him. Then it got so tragic and disgusting—the way I behaved and all—that Aunt Het delivered a manifesto.” Flossie paused and adored the steak. “Are those a A little Kappas still gheeking at us?” she asked after her first bite. That also was like Floss. “They're still there,” he acknowledged nervously, “Let ’em stay.” , “So your Aunt Het delivered a mani- esto.” “Mr. Blink and Aunt Het got together and saneumtes our engagement.” ‘To Mr. Blink—publicly!”” he gasped like a fish. “No; just to me. That was yesterday. Poor old Aunt Het—she’s suffered so after I got home. So last night she sat up till all hours telling me I was a drug on the mar- ket and that if I didn’t marry Mr. Blink— and that right sudden—she’d tie a can to me and start me toward the Cliff House. So I went to my room and had a good cry «Poor Flossie!” said the distracted Chester Framm, yy by pick her up and administer comfort in the very presence of the Kappas. “Oh, I enjoyed it ever so much. And this morning I just packed my bags and came to you. It was all so fearfully simple—like an earthquake or a forest fire. “Flossie, my dear,”’ he asked her upon that wonder, “why in the world did you come to me?” “Why!” She opened her wide eyes upon him. “You're in love with me, aren’t you?” It came quite naturally, as miracles are apt I come. I'd die for you,” he whispered, and leaned over to look down into those wells of gold. “Bully!” she cried. “Then it’s all fixed!” “What's all fixed?” He came swooning back to the great world. March 15,1919 “Why, I’m in love with you too,” she informed him with her terrible directness, and passed him her hand in bold defiance of the Kappa stare. “When—when did this happen?” He clutched her fingers incredulously. “T got to thinking about you. I’m a ter- rible deep thinker when I get started. You’re all over great big knobs of crude- ness—but I don’t know. Falling in love's like dropping into a canal—you can’t tell = what drop drowned you, can you? ou’re an awful slob and you do need a haircut—and what couldn’t I do with you in a new suit of clothes! These other little feathers’’—a gesture indicated the Kappas and the Gammas and all the Greek alpha- bet—‘“‘they’ll be either dead drunk or clerking in shoe stores in a few years. You’ve got—what-you-call-’ em— poss-i-bil- i-ties. Gee, what 2 long word.” His heart stood still. Then she had, after all, appreciated his oratorical gifts. “You mean my —— “You've got a won-derful head for busi- ness. Just see the way you built up that laundry.” He would have dropped her hand had it not been so delicious. “Floss, I haven’t had a happy minute since you left. It seemed to take away all my aS “That darned ambition! I know. Now listen to me, Cicero. Please propose, and do it now. You don’t need to kiss me— yet.’ “Will you marry me?” “This afternoon, Goober.” “Goober?” “That’s what I’m going to call you when we're married.” “But this afternoon ——” he faltered on the brink of paradise. “I’ve got to graduate, you know.” “What for?” “T can’t get a diploma unless I do.” “What in all the little green planets do you need a diploma for? To hang up in your office and show to out-of-town cus- tomers? You've got all there is out of col- lege by now. But, of course, if you must wait I'll have to go back to San Francisco and fish out Mr. Blink. “No you won't!” he declared savagely. “Old Mister Brutal!”’ she smiled ador- ably. “But I haven’t got a cent of money. Ma hates the sight of you and we can’t live at the laundry.” “T’ve looked out for ev-erything,’’ she said. ‘I’ve brought a hundred and twenty- eight dollars in my own little selfish purse.” ‘Check, please,’’ said Chester A. Framm hoarsely to the waiter. “We'd better hurry,” Flossie reminded him. ‘The three-twelve i is the only train out of here this afternoon.” How Chester A. Framm took his hand bag away from the Bon Ton Laundry is of historical importance, since it records one of those SOrTOWS which seem to await upon a great joy. “T’ve got to run to town for a couple of days,” he told his mother sheepishly as he . “jam her at the desk making out ills “Now, Ches? Right in the midst of all your work?” “Tt’s important.” He only knew that the three-twelve per er 8 . wait and Floss was loving on schedul “Chester!” The great broad woman slid her spectacles over her gray hair and ve him such a look as he had never seen rom her. “Has it got anything to do with that yellow-haired chit? “Miss Brannon, you mean?” “Tf that’s her silly name. I don’t want you to go trifling with her any more. She stole your medal away from you and she’ll steal your character. She’s not for any young man’s good. She paints her face and smokes cigareets and —— He could hear the train tooting in the distance. “Good-by, mother,” he roared, and went charging away toward his peculiar destiny. As the train pulled out a lonesome figure could be seen at the end of the Dyak plat- form. Somber eyes fringed with lamp- black were anxiously scanning each passing window. “Poor Spig!” sighed Chester’s sudden bride-to-be, waving her hand toward one who, vanishing in distance, had recognized her a moment too late. (TO BE CONTINUED) i Ae ee rng me gy eg a

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7 ~~ me Se pe es ee, ——— THE SATURDAY EVENING POST OTHER NATURE was a hoein’ her tobacco patch one day, Br’er Fox and Br’er Rabbit came a trippin’ by that way. Mother Nature says, “Here, fellows, is some Burley fo’ your pipe, but you'll have to age it two years for to get it fully ripe.” Br’er Fox said, “I know better. That’s a long expensive way. I’ve a slicker, quicker method that will beat yours any Br’er Rabbit said, “I'll follow your advice just like I should, and I’ll make mine into Velvet by slow agein’ in the wood. Then I’ll have a sweet, cool, mellow smoke that’s fr’enly as can be, it'll help to smooth life’s rough spots an’ to cheer an’ comfort me.” So now Br’er Fox is smokin’ leaf that ain't guite fully ripe but Br’er Rabbit’s pattin’ juba with some Velvet in his pipe. fee 15c

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST PEXTO STAMINA “The Mark of the Maker’’ is on these Good Tools Braces, Auger Bits, Chisels, Pliers, Wrenches, Pipe Wrenches, Hammers, Hatchets, Screw Drivers, Squares, Dividers, Compasses, Pruning Shears, Snips for Cutting Tin and Sheet Metal, Tinsmiths’ and Sheet Metal Workers’ Tools and Machines, Locks and Hardware. Applied to Pexto Wrenches it is ability to take hold, hang on, come through and stand ready to do the job over and over again. Each Pexto kind is the same in this respect. Solid Handle, Solid Steel, and Pipe Wrenches are mighty significant terms when associated with Pexto. This name adds a reputation built up through 100 years of tool making. It is surety for long wrench service. Just as Pexto Tools have played an important réle in war March 15,1919 (Ability to see things through) so will they prove equally ca- pable in the re-construction proc- ess. Stamina is as necessary in one as in the other. Every phase of present day activity has need for the ability that is designed and forged into Pexto Tools. Whether you are buying a hundred tools for the shop or a single wrench for your home you'll find the same genuine econ- omy in Pexto. Look up the Pexto Dealer in your immediate vicinity. THE PECK, STOW & WILCOX COMPANY Southington, Conn. Cleveland, Ohio Address correspondence to 221 W. Center St., Southington, Conn. 100% American for 100 Years FOUNDED IN 1819 PEXTO Solid Handle Wrench This solid handle Pexto Wrench is made of three strong, simplified parts with heavy wooden riveted handles. The head, bar and handle frame are all forged in one piece from high quality steel, next is the sliding jaw, and third the screw. r FOR USE ABOUT THE HOME AND FARM FOR THE MECHANIC IN EVERY TRADE PEXTO Solid Steel Wrench Like its solid handle partner this wrench is made of three simple parts—the head, bar and handle are all forged in one piece from high quality steel. This Pexto Wrench is built for heavy duty PEXTO Pipe Wrench This Pexto Wrench carries out the highest ideals of Pipe Wrench design. The hardened jaws of steel grip like a vise, yet they are easily tightened or released. hen you get a pipe wrench be sure it’s Pexto- made.

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moment

nor, also, of the chattering group. Which was a most im- portant qualification, considering Number Three of the Busy Bee Code for Floor Managers. “Ah there!" said Mr. Pinney with a lightness calculated to show that five-thirty executive. “Hello! spring?” Mr. Pinney said that it was, “Going along toward Ninth Street?” “Yeah.” They fell into step together. “Live out that way, Miss Reidel?” “VYeah”—with a “out quite a ways east Idarose Avenue.” after he was a man and not ar a wonderful for so early in Ain't it evening and smiled too, hy smile inch she looking, hve

“On a Job Like Mine,"’ Said Mr. Pinney,’ if You Want to Get Anywhere —Why, You L

97 By Everett Rhodes Castle EJAREN A MILLER Some ride at this time of night.” Worse than that.’ Mr. Pinney laughed, and then in th midst of its tinkling good fellowship he had an idea. ‘But at that,” he said, “it ain't much worse than sitting alone at some r taurant.” “No,” said Miss Reidel; “I not.”” Augustus drew in his sails “You have no idea,” he ‘how darn lonely a fellow gets when he ha a jo—a position like mine. Everybody you are civil to, even, tries 'to slip some- thing over on you on that account.” “Yes?” curtly, suspiciously. “What I mean,” Mr. Pinney hastened to explain, ‘‘is that most of the girls think that the minute a fellow invites them any where—why, it’s time to buy the ring and tell the whole department ’’— bitterly “an’ take about fifteen minutes extra for lunch an’ fifteen minutes every half hour during the day.” -o. Suppo commented, “Not that there ain’t exceptions,” “No?” “Take yourself, for example—I can usually read people like a book; have t in my job; an’ I’m dead sure that you're not that kind. You got a sense—a “Oh, thanks!” Mr. Pinney laughed. “ You know what You ain’t like the rest of them, I can see that— Miss Golden Hair.” They laughed together. “Oh, Mr Pinney, saying all those nice things an’ then spoiling it with that old stuff. That line you hand out to all the girls, I know I’m surprised. Honest!” How adorably she pouted! “When a young man alert an’ snap] can make twenty women happy,” chante« Mr. Pinney gayly, 1\ But honestly, I mean it; you're different You “Go on, say it”’ picion, I mean. ‘why be exclusive you 1 moc with pretty “Your upper story is occupied by some thing else besides a gum-chewing factory an’ a coupla hairdresse rs.” “Blarney!” “Nix!” ** Kidder!” “Oh, say now, Miss Golden Hair, why should I be kidding you if I thought you were like all the rest?” **Please!”’ *‘An’ here’s the proof of it—why not stay down an’ have dinner w ith me some night an’ go to a good vaudevill show or something afterward?" They entered the to battle wirl of Ninth Street traff ind begat their way forward. ‘Is that an invitation?’ “You know it, Miss Golden Hair.” “All right, Mister Kidder.” “Veg?” “Vos.”

And they did. Mr. Pinney wore a mulbert t marvelou beauty and one of those new collars that dip ar curve. They had dinner at a leading Italian resta and the wise Mr. Pinney did not tell her that the | th red wine went with the dinner. ‘‘ Women like a spender Mr. Pinney often said, But M Golden Hair did 1 participate, ““No red ink for me,” she said . town,”’ sneered Mr, Pinney laughing “6 ht Il wa iid M Golde Hair A month later M Pinne embered that ren with misgiving But you can never tell about thes mer e! week Mr. Pinney called twice, and the last ever | he slapped him for t ng tol er good night, it rea didn’t seem to be a ve hard slap. Bu 1 cat ilwa tell. A few days later when she came to hin have charge O K'd he bbled | initia ind added at op of the b Dinner to-night he shook her he and walked ' i v isked her for the honor susy Bee Bene away istening eyes A few day nter dent’ lat olfice volent Association And then on the other hand when he and pleasure of her company at the | sall he acc epted “ And there you are! er came Mr to act asa from the alesman in the linen se« Elmer Gibbs super Continued on Page 101

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$8 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Ou are goin J to owl ? J S YOUR catalog to contain subjects in the style figure class or cuts of simple merchandise such as clocks or cutlery? Are you going to use half-tones, line cuts, color engravings, or all three? Are the pictures in your booklet to illustrate verbal description, or is the book to be nearly all pictures and hardly any type? These are just a few major ques- tions that come up when any important commercial printing is planned. They subdivide into other questions—nearly all of which bear directly on the kind of paper to be used. wi} —— Wraws PEN Es 1 SR teeZ.i While the number of different kinds of pictures that go into cat- alogs and booklets runs well into the thousands, the actual need for different kinds of paper narrows down to about twelve. There are a dozen Warren Stand- ard Printing Papers. These dozen different grades cover the whole field of book paper printing. When you are familiar with these twelve grades of paper and their uses, you know enough about book papers to qualify as an able and prudent buyer. You will make no mistakes, risk no disappointments, and your printer will be put to no difficulties. x Oy Gy Wace ~ . RE ORNS Pe March 15,1919 = a - ‘ DOS Pdi ee eager , Se ee ee ——————

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST dieeer . dane All of the Warren Standard — toprintand pictures that are usually | Printing Papers are shown in — considered hard to print. It contains Warren’s Paper Buyer’s Guide. drawings done with pen, pencil, This is a book made up of sheets — brushand pastel—photographs both of Warren Standard papers printed = dull and sharp—everything from with a remarkable wide range of | machinery to portraits—houses, engravings. It contains big cuts landscapes, clothing, jewelry. | and little cuts, simple cuts and About everything. And all done on | complex combination cuts—work the right paperforthat kind ofwork. 8) in one color, two colors, three colors Sent on request to buyers of if and four colors—flat and process. _ printing; to printers, engravers and It contains pictures that were easy _ their salesmen. S. D. WARREN COMPANY, BOSTON, MASS. *“Constant Excellence of Product” (fa ANU & Dx: XC wy WAGE a sh Ras ol nee sel

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ae a tt be th ee ee ee eee PP POMP GP OP OE EE Sa ae AES ARCO Ra OR OO SR SES Scenes cesesereeeseseusses SR a SO Sah Re age SNe A is = ee a ee a ee ee Some ee ee ee ee Fe ee es es ee ee a ee ee a ee ee = Cae a = ec EAT does not break Havoline Oil. That is one great essential of any motor oil, but it is the outstanding feature of Havoline Oil. Havoline lubricates the hot cylinder walls and crank bearings, maintaining a constant protecting film that great heat and pressure does not break up or destroy. HAVOLINE OIL REG. U. 8. PAT. OFF. “It makes a difference” Coryreicat It performs its functions so modestly and so subtly that an appreciation of its economic value is fre- quently overlooked. Yet fine performance, long mileage on gas, and hav- ing a car that is every whit as good today as it was when new, are largely due to Havoline lubrication. That is why so many experienced motorists per- mit no oil but Havoline Oil to be poured into their cars. And why it is so common for motorists to say Havoline when they want oil. For they have learned that the use of Havoline enables them to count upon just that kind of performance that they may call to the. attention of their friends with justi- fied pride. So carefully is Havoline Oil refined and classed that there is a grade of Havoline that exactly fits the requirements of your passenger car, truck, or tractor. Your dealer will tell you just what grade you need. Havoline greases are compounded oj Havoline Oil and pure, sweet tallow Clean to handle and correct in body Indian Refining Company, New York Incorporated Producers and Refiners of Petroleum March 15,1919 —_ SN Te NS Cecscwcecscscsseses vito at Lt57 gh SMUMAED NN TEt EDULE MADARA eS yay 0 Re ORT Le SEFTON aA RRS 4 | PH ; a AIR) a eae Eee oan ic, abs) or eee Se S9B: Se Te. Le oe TOMA a TESS 2 Taner ed. n hes i apa a ARR Corer ys cS de Protrritii titi iit rit titi iit iti ttt iii i) it am 2 RRR ER TS le ne ie ARIE Peo S ~——— a ee ey ne eee ee FO ne

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t ‘ “ i f 4 ) \ . J 4 { f { \ ' ~~ THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 101 (Continued from Page 97 The linen section ran diagonally from the wash-goods section —the end from which Miss Reidel was wont to sell her voiles and organdies. He was tall and lanky, and he stumbled like an overgrown boy three minutes after he went behind the counter. In stumbling he clutched a bolt of voiles and pulled it with him. The watching Mr. Pinney noted the following things: First, that in standing up, still with the bolt clutched like an angular infant to his breast, he came face to face with Miss Golden Hair—Augustus’ Miss Golden Hair; sec- ond, he blushed; third, Miss Golden Hair smiled. ““Gosh, I’m sorry!" he stammered. Miss Golden Hair smiled again. Twice! “Tt’s perfectly all right,’ she said. ‘Honest, it’s a fright the way they leave things layin’ round the floor in this store!” Bitterly contemplating, Mr. Pinney noticed the lanky one’s attire with a strained sneer; noted that the blue- serge suit was of the antiquated box-back type, and that the trousers began in a huge peg top. It was out of the bitterness and the sneer that Mr. Pinney 2 moment later coined the nickname for the aisle—just like that. “We now have with us,” said Mr. Pinney, “‘the original Simple Simon.” And so the feud began. It was a peculiar | feud inasmuch as the lanky Elmer never seemed to realize that between him and the immaculate floor manager it had be- | come a duel to the death. ‘Our little Simon Legree don’t appear to have taken a shine to you,” Mr. Her- man Glick of the same department re- marked the second day “Our little who don’t what’ There was no sarcasm lurking in the question, just simple inquiry | | | Mr. Glick grinned. ‘‘Our Augustus,” he explained—‘‘ Pinney. I guess he’s jeal- ous of those clothes you wear. The tall one blushed. ‘*Aw,’’ he stam- mered. “That an’ the fact that you dared to speak an’ smile at the one an’ only.” | The blush spread and grew to crimson | intensity. ‘Aw,” he said, ‘you're kiddin’ me just because you heard that I came up here from a small town.”’ “Not me,” declared Mr. Glick. “Is she his girl—that little one on the end with the yellow hair?” “Thirty days, brother, for calling gold yellow; but she is if takin’ her to the Busy Bee Benevolent Ball has anything to do with it.”’ **She’s nice.” **Amen!”’ “What I mean is she treated me friendly that—yesterday.” “Yah,” yawned Mr. Glick. “But that ain’t any reason,”’ persisted the other, ‘“‘why he shouldn't treat me all right. I ain’t aiming to quarrel with him. 1 got my way to make here.”’ Mr. Glick laughed outright. His way to make in the Busy Bee! As if any- body ever did that! Truly Mr. Pinney had called the turn Simple Simon! Mr. Glick began to enjoy the conversation, other entertainment be- ing absent. “I suppose’’—he spoke very earn- estly—‘“‘you expect to be manager some day?” “Why not?” The elegant Mr. Glick nearly roused the aisle wir] the fun of it but managed to reach his handkerchief in time. “Sure!” he agreed after the fit of coughing. And the aisle appreciated the story quite as much as Mr. Glick—if not more. His way to make in the Busy Bee! Ha,ha! It wastolaugh! It tagged him for a simple soul fit only for overalls and brass-toed leather boots; also a wisp of straw to dangle just above a nanny-goat beard. Simple Simon! Ha, ha! And that evening Mr. Pinney spoke of the incident with high glee. Of all things Mr. Pinney hated the crude, the countrified, the dull wit of the hick. A fellow couldn't help it, of course, if he came from the country, but at least he didn’t have to cart along all the stuff from Way Down Kast. “But he doesn’t,’’ objected Miss Golden Hair “Ha!” sneered Mr. Pinney. “He dresses quiet, an’ he don’t say ‘I calklate’ or any- thing like that; an’ ‘i Mr. Pinney laughed patronizingly. ‘‘You don’t get me,” he declared. “I don’t mean outside things. Take that stuff he was telling Glick. Ain't it a scream! Ain’t it just like a great big simple hick—like this Simple Simon must ’a’ been?” “About being manager?’ ~ “But can’t he?” Mr. Pinney laughed again, laughed long and loud. “Don’t!” he pleaded. “I got a split lip. You know your- self how many people ever got anywhere in the Busy Bee—an’ he died young.” “But that ain’t no sign that “Oh well! Of course if you want a Miss Golden Hair smiled and |aid a reassuring hand on Mr. Pinney’s well-creased sleeve. “Please, Augustus.” And because after all it was the first time she had ever called him by his given name—the little tease, just like all the rest of her kind—Mr. Pinney covered the little hand. ” “How's Old John W. Ambition and little Georgie Geton?”’ Mr. Pinney would inquire with elaborate cor of Mr. Glick in a tone loud enough for nearly the entire aisle to hear in the early morning lull. Mr. Glick and the entire aisle would have their laugh, but from the target of it all only that same curious blink as if an insect of some sort had flown across into | ne of vision. That is, there was no comment until a certain evenir in early March. The episode properly began just after closing, wh hurrying figures worked to cover the counter merchandise for the night. A little group about the end of the goods section found Elmer Gibbs working about its outer fringe. The group included Mr. Pinney, Mr. Glick, Mr Schleman and the small form of Miss Reidel, working the opposite side of the little group “Well,” Mr. Pinney was remarking, ‘‘all we need is o1 more for a nice sociable little game.” “Sociable!” sneered Mr. Schleman, who had lost at the previous session ** Maybe,” suggested Mr. Glick with a wink, ‘ol’ Elmer here’d like to come up “You Know Yourse(f How Many Peopte Ever Got Anywhere in the Busy Bee — an’ He Died Young’’ “Smarty! Smarty!” me jealous, while all the time ‘You were “I wasn’t.” ** Fibber.”’ “Aw.” “But just the same,” finished the lady to herself as Mr. Pinney’s form retreated down the street some two hours later, “‘I think he has the nicest eyes.” Following this Mr. Pinney merely used the lanky form of Simple Simon as an angular target for his lighter humor. Now that he understood the situation Mr. Pinney was inclined to let the poor dog go along with only a humorous kick now and then. And wasn’t Miss Golden Hair the little old tease though? But it really never seemed to dawn on the simple Elmer that {nearly all of the humor of the aisle was pointed in his direction. Even in cases where Mr. Pinney had let his shafts fly direct toward their destination Simple Simon had only blinked curiously and gone about his business he mocked Thought you had ” an’ show us how they play the game down in Hicksburg.” “Ha, ha!” laughed Mr. Pinney. Dull rose glowed in the hick’s face and he blinked. “I don’t play,” he said tran- quilly; “an’ I come from Marion, Ohio.” “Oh.” **Maybe you'd like to learn.’ “e.” “Tt's easy,”” continued Mr. Glick. ‘‘ Al! you hafta do is get a few cards to win.” “No,” tranquilly. The tranquillity irked Mr. Pinney. “Aw don’t,” he protested with mock concern. ‘Us boys who are going to be manager haven't any time for a little thing like being commonly sociable."’ Miss Golden Hair snickered, more at the quick wit of Mr. Pinney than at its ap- plication, because immediately following the snicker the rose petals straightened and the storybook eyes grew slightly hard “T’'ll come,” said the hick suddenly “Atta boy!” “Eight o’clock sharp,” said Mr. Pinney “‘An’ remember, we don't play for fun.” But the hick was looking through the group of grinning faces toward the gir the rear. “All right, I'll be there.” **Now then, Elmer, ol’ kid,”’ said Mr Glick, “it’s all perfectly simple. One pair beats ace high; two pair beats one pair three of a kind beats two pair; a straight beats three; a flush, all one kind— like al hearts—beats a straight; a full houss three of a kind and a pair—beats a flush fours—four of a kind beats a full house an’ a straight flush—all one kind an’ in se quence— beats fours; whilea royal flush from ten-spot up to ace of same suit beats ‘em all. Get me?” “Not yet,”’ said Mr. Gibb “Ho hum,” yawned Mr. Pinney Mr. Glick repeated the winning hand and laid the cards in the various com binations. Then they played a hand to show the hick how it went. “T guess I understand now,” said the hick. The game began Two hours later the game wa ing uneventfully along; uneventfu ex cept for the sharp wit of Mr. Pinney “Some people wouldn't spend a nickel! to see an eart] quake,” he remarked as the lanky one tranquil threw his cards into the discard without drawing ‘I thought,” said Mr. Gibbs simply, “‘that the object of the game was to bet when you had the cards.” “Ha, ha!” chortled Mr. Glick, and took another pot from Mr. Pinney with three fives “Where's the ol’ rabbit’s foot, Augustus?”’ he inquired genially. “It looks like you're holding the bag to-ni = “Tt’s the air in here; tight,’’ Mr. Pinney explained and everyone but the hick laughed. But then, Mr. Pinne didn’t expect him to catch the subtlety of the remark And then sudder a broad smile dawned on the } mats stay,” he announced ‘Boy, bring the needle quick!” jibed Mr. Pinney, and then: ‘‘I’ll raise it **Me too,” sald the The others dropyp« “Once more ““Me too.”’ “Tipped agair Continued on Page 104

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST March 15,1919

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S.A Ve should mow your own lawn Ifyou must have a new mower, get the lightest running mower you can buy Hardware Dealers and Seedsmen THE SATURDAY (Continued from Page 101 The hick oe “*T guess I'll wait till I get some more cards,” he decided “Take the deck,”’ genially offered Mr. Pinney. ‘‘ You'll need it.” ‘*Mebbe,” said the hick. ‘‘ Two cards.” “One.” “Now I'll bet once “* Raise,”” murmured Mr ically “Me too.” “Oh boy!” cried Mr. Glick. “Once more.” The hick hesitated “*Once-——once more,” he said finally. An’ again.” The hick had two large chips left. Cau- tiously. he fingered them “The last time,” he said “Once more.” The hick slowly sorted the five cards in his hand and gazed upon them almost in despair “Lend lend me two for a Glick,”’ he said. “‘ Raise ‘An’ two more.” A final look at his hand and the hick dropped the cards to the table ss I guess you got me,”’ he acknowl- Pinney lacon- minute, r-raise edged With a whoop of pure joy Mr. Pinney tossed his cards, face up, on the table and proceeded to draw the chips to him He really didn't have to expose the four spades and one heart that his hand contained, but the joy of watching the hick’s face when he saw the heart was too much of a tempta- tion ‘Oh boy!” he crowed Slowly the hick picked up the cards that had composed Mr. Pinney’s hand and ex amined them; then, as if to be sure there could be no mistake, he picked up the cards he had dropped. Then his jaw hardened “You made a mistake,” he said simply. ‘You missed that—that all one kind; an’ I have three queens.”’ “Ain't that a pity!"’ Mr. Pinney roared with mirth. “Ain't that a pity!” he re- peated “T win,” said the hick “Not much!” **Yes,”’ said the hick. “‘My hand It took the combined efforts of Messrs. Glick and Schleman twenty minutes to ex- plain to the hick. And then Mr. Pinney crowned their efforts with a lightning shaft of humor. “Cards,” said Mr. Pinney, ‘‘is like life, an’ consists not in playing good cards but poor cards well.” The boob blinked, but the eyes beneath had grown hard and cold “‘An’ furthermore,”’ continued Mr. Pin- ney, “it ain't what you got that counts, but what the other fellow thinks you got.” “I'll remember that,”’ said the hick simply, and got up. “Simple Simon met a pie-man,”’ sang Mr. Pinney joyously as the party of the first part went lumbering from the room. But the hick never turned. au JROPERLY speaking, the following day really marked the beginning of the wash-goods feud. For the first time the lanky Elmer seemed to recognize that the dapper, clever floor manager was, as the Busy Bee would say it, ‘after the Gibbs goat with both feet.” His very step the next morning was sig- nificant. He walked straight to the wash- goods end of the linen counter, where the courtly Mr. Pinney was holding a short before-eight-thirty chat with Miss Reidel. He walked straight to the pair ‘Miss Reidel,”’ he said, seemingly com- pletely unaware of the executive frown, ‘would you go with me to a theater to- night?” Under ordinary circumstances, Miss Reidel! assured herself afterward, she would have refused and laughed in the same breath at the crudity of it,. but of late Augustus--she called him Augustus out- side the store now-— had become too con fident; too Oh, well, you know. And then there was something in the big awk- ward thing's eyes—like the appeal of some large Newfoundland puppy; and they were nice eyes aside from that funny blink; clear and so cleanlike. Of course he wasn't in the same class as Mr. Pinney, but there was such a thing as a man—even a classy, clever young man like Mr. Pinney —get- ting to feel as if he was the only pebble on the beach. And ever since he had been at the Busy Bee-— over two months now— the hick had been so nice an’ respectful. EVENING POST “T’d be delighted,”’ she said; and then the little tease, seeing the light that crept into the elegant Mr. Pinney’s eyes, added slowly, “‘ El-mer.”’ It was war to the hilt. Mr. Pinney, with his head disdainfully high and a sneer on his lips to show that it didn’t mean anything in his young life who the hired help went out with, walked away. The hick blushed and then stuttered at the unexpected use of his name and turned to arrange the scat- tered counter display. Smiling serenely Miss Golden Hair did the same. And that night came the hick, with his hair brushed in water and a best suit that Mr. Pinney would have laughed himself to tears over. But it was well brushed and pressed; she noted that with womanlike approval. “Would you like to go down to the Va- riety?”’ asked Mr. Gibbs with formal stiff- ness “Oh, any oid place,” Hair. **It’s a nice night,” said the hick twenty minutes later. An hour later he opined that it was a nice show. “*Yes,”’ said Miss Golden Hair briefly. But three-quarters of an hour later, as they stood on the first step of the Reidel home, Miss Reidel repented her briefness. After all he probably was one of that silent kind ‘“Were—were you mad because I called you by your first name this morning?” ““No”--with a blink, a blush and a con- traction of the Adam's apple. Silence **1—1— guess he’s got it in for me.” Miss Reidel laughed. “You should worry,”’ she commented, “as long as vou do your work well enough to suit ol’ Marx, the buyer.” Silence ‘*Could I come round again?” ““Y-yes.”’ Silence Apparently there was something else to said Miss Golden be said. Finally it came “Tf—if’--gulp—“‘I became assistant lir m buyer could would” blink, blush —‘‘ you go with me steady?” “Oh— why— maybe. But—but Mr. Pinney told me that—that he expected that is, he was goin’ to apply sy “I know,” said the hick grimly, “but I’m goin’ after it just the same.” “But— how— what chance if Mr. Pin- ney —you— you 2 “I know,” said the hick simply; ‘‘it was he showed me how to go after it.” And his mind went back to the four little spades that Mr. Pinney had held so glee- fully. But privately Miss Golden Hair doubted. The question of the assistant linen buyer- ship had been looked at by the first floor a good deal like the twenty-second congres- sional district in Bigburg, which had al- ways gone Republican within the ken of man. Mr. Pinney announced his intention of making application, and that ended the matter with what other aspirants there might have been. What chance was there in competition with a snappy young man like Mr. Pinney? A body would be a fool to try it. And there were no fools on the first floor. And then Miss Reidel, under a solemn sacred oath administered to Miss Milly Shannon not to tell a single solitary soul, whispered of the intentions of Mr. Elmer Gibbs ‘Pick out a soft place for me to fall,” commanded Miss Shannon; and ten min- utes later, under the same blood-curdling oath, she imparted the news to Mr. Glick. ‘*An’ a little child shall lead them,’” quoted Mr. Glick gleefully; and looked round for Mr. Pinney. “At that,” said Mr. Glick a few mo- ments later, ‘‘maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to beat him to the old man. You know what a funny ol’ yap he is, an’ ——”’ Mr. Pinney laughed loud and long. “I'm tickled,” he chuckled joyously. ‘I can't think of anything better than to have him beat me to the old man.” “But : *“Why, you poor fish, don’t you see that after the old man watched him blink an’ blush and all that small-town stuff, when 1 come along an’ give him a snappy line of new selling stuff the contrast will sel] me like hot cakes?” In Mr. Glick’s eyes shone true admira- tion. “‘ Boy,” he whispered, “‘ you got some little head.” March 15,1919 Mr. Pinney snapped his fingers lightly. So it was that Mr. Elmer Gibbs went first to the old man of the Busy Bee. While he was gone the wash goods, linens and leathers buried their collective head in a soft mountain of sheer voiles and howled with glee. But Miss Golden Hair did not join. Perhaps it was because Mr. Pinney was enjoying the humor of it so highly; or per- haps it was because - When the hick came back Mr. Glick was carelessly bolting table damask. “Well,” he inquired, ‘‘I suppose we con- gratulate you?” Simple Simon blinked. ‘‘He said he'd give me a chance at it as soon as he came back from New York.” "on. “*He’s going to New York to-night for three weeks. He said if anyone else wanted a chance at the job that he would talk with them on that day too.” “I suppose,”’ queried Mr. Glick with in- tense amusement, “‘ you told him you were a hard worker and willing to learn?” Triumph lit the face of the lanky one. “No,” he said proudly. “‘I told him I knew our linen steck from counter to stock- room; that I knew all our stocks an’ every- thing.” “But you don’t,” asserted Mr. Glick. “You ain’t been here long enough, an’ the stockroom is like Europe to you.” *“‘Sure,”’ said Simple Simon tranquilly. “You bluffed him!” cried Mr. Glick; and incredulity at the simpleness of it mingled with the humor of it. As if the poor fish could slip anything over on the ol’ man! “Yes,” said the simple one; ‘I! owe a lot to Mr. Pinney for that.” ar T FIRST Miss Golden Hair was piqued. When Mr. Pinney after five days of lofty indifference once more whispered *To-night?”’ she smiled and nodded. And that night the talk drifted round to the hick. Mr. Pinney laughed good- humoredly. He felt that he could afford to under the circumstances. Plainly the simple one was in bad. Not that it was so much what Miss Reidel said as the way she let the sarcastic shafts of Mr. Pinney pass un- challenged. And her eyes were brighter and she seemed to speak more tenderly. She was dressed in wine-colored silk. She wore the satin pumps with the large glisten- ing buckles and her--well, in short, she was not to be resisted. Mr. Pinney proposed. And Miss Golden Hair answered him. She said that she liked him—very, very much. That—that certainly as far as the things that most girls looked for in a man were concerned —‘“‘ clothes an’ a line of talk an’ things’’—there was no question but —— “Oh,” said Augustus, and waited. Miss Golden Hair crossed the room to the parlor table and removed a half section of newspaper from her purse and spread it upon the table. “This—-this is what I mean,” she ex- plained. ‘The first—the first part doesn’t apply — but — but —the idea 3 It was a local banking advertisement. Mr. Pinney read it aloud: ““WHo GETS THE GIRL? “Mary is good to look at, cheerful, wholesome, full of life. Being human she loves flowers, chocolates, music, dancing and pretty clothes. She likes to go places. ‘** Because she is the kind of girl that will make an ideal wife Mary has a heart as well as a head. She knows what she wants. She knows what a husband ought to be. To him she wil! look for support, protec- tion, provision. “Consequently the man who wins Mary will be the man who has money in the bank. Not because she values money above manhood; far fromit. But because money in the bank, put there out of a fellow’s earnings, is the surest proof of manhood, of dependable character, of ability to manage. That money says: ‘Here is a man that knows where he is going. He will have these dollars for use whenever he needs them. He will have funds to invest to make more money. He is a business man. He will prosper. You can trust him with your future.’ “That is the man for Mary. That is the sort of man that every wise girl will pick out. For married life isn’t all ice-cream sodas. House and furniture, food and Concluded on Page 107) | | ae ai ee ne ree ee

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 105 RI —_ 4 Electrica My RY-vel [<0] / Air-Tight - Be Sure to Get “ \ . re 1% ‘ x : : % ‘a ‘ ‘ ral a 7 wn ? ¥ ‘7 . sv ; Way be ; (The Greatest Name in Goody Land) [t is not enough to make it clean — the sealed package keeps if clean and fresh until you get it *" “in Lf The flavor lasts

Ley t} g | LtSwarrcres SZ | | See My a f JUICY FRUIT] (PSs YW ees lg yy} THE FLAVOR LASTS J

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST AOE AAO i AIA ea “We should have had electric lights long ago” Light at the touch of a button—bright, clean, safe.—no wonder Delco-Light users are enthusiastic. Delco-Light is a complete electric plant. It furnishes all the light you can use. It provides power to pump water, to operate the churn, cream separator, washing machine, corn sheller, etc. It saves so much time and labor that it actually pays for itself. \t the same time it brings the comforts and con- veniences of the city to the farm home. There Are Over 70,000 Satisfied Users The Domestic Engineering Company, Dayton, Ohio Makers of DELCO-LIGHT Products March 15,1919 The Electric Plant that RUNS ON KEROSENE

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(Conctuded from Page 104) clothes—you can’t live without them, and the young fellow who wants to marry but has lacked the wisdom to provide ahead is doomed to be a poor provider. “Young man, are you prepared to be the husband of the girl you love?” Mr. Pinney placed his hands carefully in his lower vest pockets. “Classy ad,” he admired; ‘‘but—but it don’t apply to little old yours truly.” To this Miss Golden Hair said nothing. ““What I mean,” explained Mr. Pinney, “‘is that I’m going right ahead; they can’t stop me. In three weeks I’ll be assistant linen buyer, an’ then ie “But if you can’t save “On a job like mine,” said Mr. Pinney, “if you want to get anywhere—why, you have to be progressive, and it costs money. But when I get the other—why — ‘Why, then,” said the wise little lady, ‘we will talk about it again.’ “But,” insisted Mr. Pinney, “I prac- tically got it now. No rival but this simple agricultural child who thinks just because a smart card player can win with four spades that he can bluff the old man.” And because, as we remarked before, Miss Golden Hair was piqued she laughed at the simpleness of it. But the pique began to wonder. For the first five days—for the first fifteen she had completely ignored the person—a person who three days after saying the things that he had—the Busy Bee equivalent to a proposal at least—had hung his head and in halting stuttering sentences had broken an engagement made for that evening. Not that it was the broken engagement so much—what was a date in her young life, Miss Reidel had assured herself —but it was the way he had broken it. Why, even while his halting lips said he wasn’t feeling well his eyes couldn’t hide the lie. And the eyes said “ther things that added to the puzzle. In their simple, almost bovine fashion they registered absolute adoration. The person was plainly smitten—but why? After ten days of aloof disinterest —days filled with obvious tenderness toward Mr. Pinney— Miss Golden Hair began to won- der. Maybe after all he really had been sick, and, of course, her attitude since then had hardly been one of —— Twenty minutes later in a lull of shop- pers she moved toward the lanky form bolting the inevitable damask. ” THE SATURDAY “I—I—am going to be home to-night,” she whispered. Mr. Elmer Gibbs opened his mouth— and then closed it suddenly. Then he blushed and blinked. “T—I’m sorry,” “but I ain’t night.” “Oh, well,” was only kidding you anyway. ney he stuttered finally, I ain’t feeling very well to- laughed the lady lightly, “‘I i Mr. Pin- The simple one opened his mouth—and then closed it slowly, grimly. Miss Reidel moved lightly away. And then for the six days that preceded the return from the East of the Old Man of the Busy Bee she devoted all the tenderness of eye and speech that department ethics would permit to Mr. Pinney. And the night before Mr. Pinney was sure he was to become assistant linen buyer his lips had lightly brushed her hair. Miss Reidel still remembered Mary of the bank advertisement. iv T WAS characteristic of Nicholas O’ Day that he should show no regard for the inner feelings of his employees. So it was that instead of calling Mr. Pinney and the lanky Elmer into his office separately he called them both. ““Now then,” he said brusquely to Augus- ss “you say why you should have the job. Mr. Pinney did. He would much prefer that the hick had preceded him so that the contrast might have been the more illumi- nating. But it probably was apparent enough as it was. Mr. Pinney began. He spoke with the snappy tone of eas progres- sive young business man, as Mr. Pinney understood him. He spoke quickly of ambition and executive ability in words that clearly showed knowledge—and prepared- ness. He did not brag; neither did he deprecate. In finishing, Mr. Pinney felt that he had made a decided impression. O’Day had lifted his bushy brows twice. ‘Now then,” snapped the great man, “you.” The hick began with a blink but he did not stutter; at the same time, however, he lacked the snappy touch of Mr. Pinney. And he did not speak of ambition or exec- utive ability. At the very beginning Mr. Pinney smiled broadly. It was all over but the shouting. EVENING POST The poor boob was rambling on about stocks that sold and stocks that did not sell; about patterns overstocked and patterns that warranted heavy buying. O’Day lifted his brows. ; The hick continued about other things, the way people were buying cotton mix- tures, of the possible development along this line, of the lack of these particular brands on hand. “How do you know?” “T looked.” “How long you been in the house?” “Four months.” “‘Howja get to know all our stoc ks? “T went through them.” The brows lifted. ‘‘When?” “Nights,” said the hick. The great man grunted. said shortly. “G’day.’ “You win,” he They rode down in the same elevator | with a silence that was ominous on the part of the floor manager and tranquil on the part of the hick. They found the department anxiously waiting “We si?” Mr. Glick spoke for the aisle. It was the great moment for the hick Gentle triumph shone in the mild blue of his eyes. “T bluffed him,’ ’ he said simply. Mr. Pi inney ’s As laugh rang out upon the air. ‘Ha, * he jeered. “‘Ain’t that rich? Ha, ha! “Why, do you know what kind of a bluff he run? He run one of those kind with four aces. He was working up in the stockroom every night for the last three weeks! “Imagine slaving like that to get to an assistant. Ain’titrich? Bluff! eel Ain’t it a killer?” Simple Simon nodded his head slowly. “After all,” he said, “life is like cards. The idea is to win—ain’t it?” An hour later an angular figure moved to | the end of the linen counter. “T ain’t doing anything to-night, to a mountain of snowy voiles. “Why didn’t you tell me?” voiles. “You can’t, an’ bluff.” “, “Can I come out to your place to- night?” Miss Reidel came round from the snowy mountains. “I'll say you can,” she said, and smiled. ” it said said the | | | Lift Corns out with Fingers A few applications of Freezone loosen corns or calluses so they peel off Apply a few drops of Freezone upon a | tender, aching corn or a Callus for two or three nights. The soreness stops and shortly theentirecorn or callus loosensand can be lifted off without a twinge of pain. Freezone removes hard corns, soft corns, also corns between the toes and hardened calluses. Freezone does not ir ritate the surrounding skin. You feel no pain when applying it or afterward. Women! Keep a tiny bottle of Freezone on your dresser and never let a corn ache twice. Small bottles can be had at any drug store in the United States or Canada. The Edward Wesley Co., Cincinnati, O TELLS THE TR UTH With carefully written de tions and cons ative st ent Olds’ 1919 « ataie je a true gu and at book for ever OLDS’ ‘SPEC IAL TIE. Ss Seed pesetace rt B and 10ot ioe certifi k " Seed Com Wisconsin func pose Sate Wheat Barley, e lover “Alfalfa. Timoth sted tigh-grade Sam ples FREE moped» Buy fror eran Seas Wovens Seeds, Bulbs Nureery See xk, Poultry Supplies, Tools, et« Write toda L. L. Olds Seed Co. rc. J Play while you Pay 7 mon ithiy pa a rn _WuRtiIzer Ww rite for New C atalog The Rud olph “Wurlit zer Co., 384 8. Wabash Ave. Chicago, Tl —E. 4th an ‘Cincinnati 0 PATENTS BOOKLET FREE HIGHEST REFERENCES BEST RESULTS PROMPTNESS ASSURED Watson E. Coleman, Patent Lawyer, 624 F St., Washington, D.C.

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST March 15,1919 SOTTA or {=} SO CESE RAC Tole An pateniczasice Dependable Service

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Ying NA EN The Standard Spark S \ : lind Plug of America CO . —— NEW YORK ........... 34 out of 56 AC’s Automobile Show Score for 1919 For years now, the majority of fine automobiles built in this country have been factory-equipped with AC Spark Plugs. And it is a fact that manufacturers who have once used AC Plugs, continue to use them year after year. Many of the motor car makers now equipping with AC’s have never endorsed any other make of spark plug. And year after year the number of manufacturers not using AC’s has grown less and less. CHALMERS CHANDLER CHEVROLET LL TN, I TTR I | AC DODGE BROTHERS AC LOCOMOBILE AC PHIANNA AC DORRIS AC MARMON AC PIERCE-ARROW AC DORT AC MOLINE-KNIGHT AC PREMIER AC ESSEX AC Naraniee si ~~ REO AC HAYNES AC SAXON OAKLAND AC AC HUDSON AC OLDSMOBILE AC SCRIPPS-BOOTH AC HUPMOBILE AC PACKARD AC STEARNS-KNIGHT AC JORDAN AC PAIGE AC STEPHENS AC KISSEL KAR AC PATERSON AC STUTZ AC LIBERTY AC PEERLESS AC WESTCOTT The spark plug equipment of these cars displayed at either Chicago or New York Show, or both, is divided among all other spark plug makers: Allen Crow-Elkhart Grant Mitchell Standard American Cunningham Holmes McFarlan Studebaker Auburn Elcar King Moon Templar Biddle Elgin Lexington Noma Velie Briscoe Fiat Maxwell Overland Willys-Knight Commonwealth Ford Mercer Owen Magnetic Winton Franklin Roamer Chicago Automobile Show New York Automobile Show AC-Equipped cars on display .. . 40 AC-Equipped cars ondisplay .. . 34 Cars equipped with all other makes . 27 Cars equipped with all other makes . 22 War Program AC Spark Plugs, standard equipment for all Liberty and Hispano-Suiza Aircraft Motors AC Spark Plugs, standard equipment on all Class B Standardized Government Trucks. AC Spark Plugs, equipment on thousands of Ordnance Tanks and Trucks. This preference for AC Spark Plugs reflects the judgment of the highest engineering author- ities in this country. Can you conceive of better proof of AC superiority ? There is an AC Spark Plug especially designed for the car you drive. Accept no other kind Champion Ignition Company, FLINT, -AGchigan U. S. Pat. No. 1,135,727, April 13, 1915. U.S. Pat. No. 1,216,139, Feb. 13, 1917. Other Patents Pending 109 These cars, displayed at either the ( Chicago or New York Automobile Show, or both, have AC Spark Plugs for standard factory equipment AC AC AC AC AC AC AC AC AC AC

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110 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST See the Electric Motor Run Under Water Where To See This Display BOSTON, MASS. Lewis Electrical Supply Co., Federal St BUFFALO, N.Y. Walbridge & Co., 392 Main St CHICAGO, ILL. nonwealth Edison Co., Electric Shop, Corner Adame & Clark CLEVELAND, O. eland Electric Muminating Co., Public Square COLUMBUS, O. hoedinger-Marr Co., 100 North High St CINCINNATI, O. how Drug Co., Corner 6th & Vine Ste DETROIT, MICH. ealth Savings Bank, Fort & Griswold Sts LOUISVILLE, KY. rf Lewis Co., 4th & Walnut MINNEAPOLIS, MINN. Ceneral Electric Co., 15 So. Fifth St NEW YORK CITY trical Supply Co., 110 Weet 42nd St rk Edison Co 362 East 149th S I ic Light & Power ( 146th St. & Broadway and 89th St. & Broadway PHILADELPHIA, PA. anan & Co., 1719 Chestnut St PITTSBURGH, PA. Ka an Big Store SYRACUSE, N. Y. briows thal an electru motor canmet actually de an wert while renerne under water owing to fric tiom of the water, diluting ae ot \ everthe th riteng demontire N any of the cities listed here, you can see this Lincoln Electric Motor running under water during the week of March 13th to 20th. What is more important—if you own or operate any machinery driven by electric motors you can have it equipped with this same reliable motor. Lincoln Motors will not only provide power under adverse conditions of moisture, dust and fumes, but they will give just the right kind of power and the right amount for economical and satisfactory operation. It is for this purpose that Lincoln Engineers are working with the lead- ing manufacturers of machinery to select motors of the right size and type for each machine built. If your machinery makers use Lincoln Motors you will have continuous, reliable power — powef that fits the machine. “Link Up With Lincoln” The Lincoln Electric Co., Cleveland, O. March 15,1919 LINCOLN @ MOTORS

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— aay THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 111 THE HAT I asked you, Hig,” re- minded Corporal Thatcher with austere official’ dignity, “is what’s become of Adam.” Private Higgins, crouching in the bottom of a funk hole with its excavated yellow clay ridged scientifically round to form additional breastwork protection, shrugged a cramped and conservatively cower- ing shoulder. “All I know, Thatch,” he testified in that solemn tone with which one speaks of the late departed, “‘is that about nine o’clock he got inoculated with the notion that he would go up to that barn you see cropping out on the side- hill there and rustle some straw for his hole.” “Tt’s ten now,” observed the corporal as he consulted his wrist. “Adam took no account, I suppose, of the fact that this hill is likely to be chuck-full of boche outposts, boche patrols, boche machine-gun nests and boche one thing and another.” Otto Higgins spat eloquent rejection of this hypothesis and opined that his hole mate, side partner and pup-tent buddy, Adam Breede, had taken a plenty of account of it, judging by the way he flattened himself out like a spread- ing adder and went sneaking off through the scrub with his trench dagger in one hand and a shiny little bomb in the other. “He must have wanted straw bad,’’ complained the corporal. “Water was seeping into his end of the funk hole, if you'll cramp your neck enough to look; and it wasn’t dug an hour.” But Corporal Thatcher ironically declined to accept the straw objective. ‘*Much more likely,”’ he declared suspiciously, ‘‘that restless cuss was starting some little private offensive of his own. His girl wrote him if he didn’t get a decoration of some kind pretty soon she wouldn’t be friends with him any more.” ““T thought of that too,” admitted Hig with ready candor. ‘*Most likely old Adam will be coming in here presently with a boche tank or a captured general staff or something like that.” The air immediately above suddenly grew full of an odd whirring sound, whereupon Private Higgins ducked deeper in his shelter hole, while Corporal Thatcher made an absurd effort to get a pair of extra-wide shoulders entirely under the circle of his trench helmet. “’*Nother one of them darned Flyin’ Dutchmen,” com- mented the private, his voice echoing up from somewhere near the bottom of the hole. The Flying Dutchman, which was Hig’s private name for the clumsily tumbling shells of a minenwerfer, burst in the narrow ravine behind with a sound that was at first smothered and then strangely magnified as its reverbera- tions echoed against the widening sides of the descending gulch and seemed to empty themselves out into the valley that, with wrinkling interruptions of knoll and vale, sloped a terraced way downward to the sparkling bosom of the Meuse half a mile below. **Guess we’re too close under the bulge of the hill for them to reach us,” reflected the corporal contentedly. ‘**Fervently, oh fervently do I hope so,” declared Higgins, who, when the last spatter of raining mud had thudded round, raised a wary head and, rifle in hand, resumed that intensive scrutiny of the fringe of tree tops cresting the ridge three hundred yards above which had been occupy- ing his attention when Corporal Thatcher obtruded him- self and his inquiries into the hole. From somewhere beyond those trees the Flying Dutch- men were coming, and the space between the tree-tipped ridge and the four funk holes occupied by Corporal Thatcher’s outpost was a sort of temporary No Man’s Land, covered with a thick undergrowth of bush and young tree resulting from processes of reforestation. What was going on beneath that screen of bush and over the brow of that hill was just now all important. It would tell whether the reeling Hun armies merely breathed before taking to their heels once more or whether at last they re-formed for a sudden and stinging counteroffensive. The division of which Corporal Thatcher’s squad was a part had just executed the first half of a dangerous and critical maneuver of advance, and now, with the river perilously close behind, it hung on by the eyebrows while it widened and strengthened or rebuilt bridges, brought up artillery and transport, and hitched into position for the next step, which would complete the operation and make it safe. A sudden backward push now might have crumpled up these brigades and rolled their broken remains into the Meuse. It was to give ample notice if anything like that were’attempted or even imminent that little outposts like Thatcher’s were stuck forward in this fashion between the very toes of the enemy’s known positions. By Peter Clark Macfarlane As Private Higgins studied the fringe of wet trees above him with finger softly caressing his rifle trigger a shout that sounded hoarse and far away, yet with a note of excitement in it, echoed up the ravine, whereupon the sharpshooter and the corporal both turned and contemplated with in- terest the advance, across hazardous open ground at the bottom of the slope, of a figure in khaki, obviously a pri- vate, but with no pack and no weapon save a revolver strapped upon his leg. Bending low, and occasionally wabbling, as if weary and winded, the oncomer scouted in short furtive zigzags to the edge of the wooded area, was temporarily lost to view, and then reappeared in the mouth of the ravine, clambering up toward the little group of funk holes. “What runner’s that?” inquired Thatcher. “Ask the M. P.’s,”’ suggested Higgins facetiously, for one helmeted, mud-plastered runner looks about like an- other at a distance of a hundred yards, When the runner made out that his approach had been observed he halted and waved his arms with successive downward motions. “What’s he mean?”’ speculated the corporal. At that moment a sharp spang of steel on steel echoed in the ravine, and the runner sat down queerly with his head jerking abruptiy backward. Swifter than a flash Private Higgins’ eye turned to the tree top upon the hill he had been marking so closely, and after another second of inten- sive scrutiny his rifle cracked. There was a spasmodic movement in the boughs, succeeding which a colorless gray package sprawled out of the tree, falling straight, like Newton's apple. Otto grunted satisfaction and, again turning quickly, was relieved to see the runner sitting up and studying curiously a dent in his helmet marked by a spray of brightness where the sniper’s bullet had polished the dully painted steel. With the tin hat once more upon his head the runner came forward again, crawling this time upon his hands and knees directly to the center of the crescent-shaped cluster of shelter pits. “Cheese it!"’ he exclaimed breathlessly. ‘The war's over.” “It’s over for the sniper,”” opined Otto tersely “Over? Where do you get that stuff?"’ inquired Cor- poral Thatcher with austerity, as annoyed that anyone should jest about so serious a matter. “Well, if it isn’t Bill Tait!’’ ejaculated Charlie Younger, his pair of eyes and amiable grinning mouth appearing beneath a turtleback and above the rim of a handmade cave so cleverly camouflaged by fresh brush and forest grasses that the runner had all but crawled over it. ‘What did you say, Bill?” “T say the war’s over,”’ answered Tait a bit defiantly, as if irritated by the slightest sign of disbelief in the won- derful news he brought. ‘‘Armistice was signed this morn- ing at five—-goes into effect at eleven.’ A strange questioning silence struck in upon Corporal Thatcher and Privates Higgins and Younger. The mud, the weariness, the unceasing struggle—was it over? The sordid labor, the heart longings, the sense of constant danger, the painful sickening tension in which their very souls had subsisted now for months—was that over? The men looked at each other and turned pale with a kind of fear, as that they should faint or weep or shout aloud. But it was Corporal Thatcher who recovered himself first and threw back his head and laughed — bitterly, derisively The runner looked frightened. “You don’t believe me?” he gulped “You damned fool!”’ said Thatcher pityingly. “Say!”’ demanded Higgins angrily, ““where do you get that line of bull from anyway?” “Bull?” retorted Tait with indignation. I got it from the regimental adjutant.” Charlie Younger perhaps was quickest to understand, for he was a friend of old Bill Tait. He knew that he was a man of sober mind, faithful as a dog, incapable of self- deluding romance or frivolous falsehood. “You're knocked out, Bill,’’ he suggested soothingly. **When did you sleep last, old man? Say!” At this note of friendly concern something like a mist threatened from the corners of Tait’s red-lidded eyes. **Somewhere back of Beaumont,”’ he mumblJed brokenly, and let himself go prostrate on the ground with a long shuddering sigh of total exhaustion. ‘‘Great God, but I’m tired, Charlie!” “Beaumont?” exclaimed Corporal Thatcher, whose sympathy was as quick as any man’s. ‘‘ We were in Beau- mont two days ago! And you've been on your feet ever since, night and day, carrying messages one way or the other?” ” It’s orders. ’ “Carrying or standing by,” mur- mured Tait, whose eyes were closing heavily. “‘A man don’t get much sleep standing by.” The three pickets exchanged comprehend- ing glances, They were themselves men so weary that their muscles had almost lost the power of feeling. For more than a week, day after day, they had fought and crawled forward and dug in, and fought and crawled forward and dug in again, flirting every hour with death, till nerves were torpid and imagination itself was drugged; but they could still feel for a comrade who was even wearier than they. Yet jaded as they were this comrade’s message had made their hearts to leap, and though their rugged sanity had instantly rejected the fantastic idea, it stalked again like a ghost which required reason for its laying. It was Charlie Younger who proceeded to this task by placing a roughly affectionate hand upon the shoulder of the pros- trate man = “Don’t you suppose, Bill, you've kind of gone daffy on this armistice stuff?" he intimated tactfully. ‘‘ You've been thinking about it so much or something?” “Your mind has kind of been running on the end of the war, hasn't it?” inquired Higgins, meaning to be helpful. Tait was almost asleep. His features had relaxed and there came a looseness to his drawn lips that was like the smile of a drowsy child “I've been thinking —how nice it will be—when we all go home,” he answered with a long-drawn ruminative sigh. “Why, of course!"’ declared Corporal Thatcher with authority. ‘That idea was in his mind when he sort of fell asleep on his feet, and when he waked up his memory didn’t distinguish between the dream and the fact. That's good psychology all right sy But Tait half roused at this. “It goes into effect at eleven,”’ he declared stubbornly; “at eleven Not a gun—not a hand grenade—after eleven—not nothing; pas rien, boys, pas rien."" He drowsed off again W-o-w-w-w-w-w! Another Flying Dutchman had let loose in the ravine below them, and instinctively the men ducked, but too late to have been of any use; and they , laughed at their own absorption in failing to note its whiz zing approach. Then for a moment all three were signifi cantly silent. Their minds were busyrunning back through enlistment scenes, through days in training camps; and days in transports, when vague uncertainties about the adventure ahead mixed with present dread of foer beneath the surface of the waves about them; and then of more days in training camps of one sort and another. At last had come the fighting experiences Belleau Wood, Soissons, St.-Mihiel, the Champagne and the Argonne They had been in them all, and this quartet — Thatcher, Younger, Higgins and the absent Breede, if he was still living — were all that was left of a platoon. Those six figh’- ing months bulked larger than all the rest of life, and it was hard now even to try to think what the world might be like without fighting. Yet perhaps—nay, no doubt — they did try ‘Gosh!” sighed Private Higgins after the interval ‘Amen!”’ murmured Charlie Younger; meaning, of course, amen to the sigh “Say!"’ roused Corporal Thatcher suddenly. ‘Say And he had Tait by the shoulder and was shaking him violently. ‘‘Wake up! If it’s an order to stop the war at eleven it isn’t just verbal — you've got it in writing.” “Huh?” grumbled Tait, staring stupidly from blood veined eyes. ‘‘What?” “In writing? The written order!” bullied Thatcher “Oh, the written order!" iterated the runner in a dazed way, and then as if memory had at length connected the present with the past he fumbled deep in his pocket duced a crumpled piece of paper torn from a field-order book, handed it to the corporal and immediately sank back to slumber on the soggy earth Eagerly Thatcher smoothed the wrinkled sheet and scanned it, with the others peering over his shoulder “The front of the second battalion will be advanced to the top of the ridge, coérdinates 4131-3407 and 4151-3414 at fourteen-thirty o'clock,’ read Thatcher in amazement; and then a sickly sneer curled upon his lips ‘‘Armistice—hell!"’ he said. ‘‘We go over the top at two-thirty this afternoon; that’s what we do.” Turning he kicked scornfully at the prostrate form of the runner, Tait; but Tait was for the time being deliciously indifferent to the cuffs and scoffs of an ungrateful world “The advance will be preceded by five minutes’ artillery preparation, starting at fourteen-twenty-five,”’ the cor- poral read on “Just enough to advertise that we are coming,” peeved Private Higgins, who was experienced enough to have agreat respect for a good barrage and a supreme contempt for a poor one. (Continued on Page 115)

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112 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST March 15,1919 ‘affic ru, ke The Steel Steed that makes a horse a liability Its low cost—quality and economical operation—makes the Traffic Truck an asset and the horse a liability. Teams can’t compete with a Traffic in will prove the Traffic an asset and the cost of operation—trips per day—time horse a liability. saved or money earned, We want you to take your pencil and figure how the Traffic Truck will solve your hauling problem. The Traffic has removed every obstacle that has stood between you and a truck oO i ieee ae to motorize your hauling. It is the 000th ' so nat © a raf ‘ ri . ; lowest priced 4,000-Ib. capacity truck a eo aS oe) )|6— a ae anerra, wae oF eee for 2} cents’ worth of gasoline per mile at. pa Th 8 : There’s a Traffic produced every 45 |4 miles an hour on average roads. . ge Sage “14 minutes. Its low price is possible be- Your own figures for maintenance and cause of quantity production on only speed of teams hauling a 4,000-lb. load one model. The saving over teams and the profits from hauling which are possible with a Trafic in many cases will cover its purchase price in less than six months. ‘Horse Sense"’ demands a change from flesh to steel for hauling Specifications ¢-cylinder, valve-in-head, motor 4b. p Write for catalog today brake test; Covert transmissior 1; Borg & Beck dise clutch; Kingston magneto with We want a Traffic dealer in every city, town and re ae geri y ae village in America. Wire for the territory you want. th ler bee . . - an liege Traffic Motor Truck Corporation, St. Louis, U.S. A. Ihptre front and ' t ~ ! " ‘ St W-inch whe ! ne behind driver ting syetem t and varnished; d Chassis $1395 f. o. b. St. Louis

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114 oe WORLD'S FAQ \ Y ; , Yr. wer: ; wn he THE SATURDAY EVENING POST *. eres «* v a 4 =, - 7 4 ; a %. Ss v » oe ‘ mae " ag é PAE. he The American farmer has heard the world’s cry for food—and nobly has he answered it. New land has been pressed into service; old fields have been urged to greater production. In this task of increasing acreage and yield, ATLAS Explosives have proved an able ally—removing stumps, blasting ditches, making roads, planting trees, subsoil- ing—saving man power and giving quick returns. “Better Farming with Atlas Farm Powder,” a 120- page illustrated book, will be sent free to any land owner interested in making his acres more productive. Users of explosives for industrial purposes are invited to avail themselves of the personal co-operation of the explosive engineers in our Service Division. It is their business to assist miners, quarrymen, contractors and others to do better blasting at lower Cost. ATLAS POWDER CO., Wilmington, Del. Branch Offices: Allentown, Pa.; Birmingham, Ala,; Boston; Chicago; Des Moines; Houghton, Mich.; Joplin, Mo.; Kansas City; Knoxville; McAlester, Okla. ; Memphis; Nashville; New Orleans; New York; Philadelphia; Pittsburg, Kans.; Pittsburgh, Pa. ; Pottsville, Pa. ; St. Louis; Wilkes-Barre, ae March 15,1919

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 115 (Continued from Page 111) “You said a mouthful, Hig,” agreed the other private. “Company commanders will instruct patrols to com- plete such reconnaissance as is possible of ground to be taken before twelve hour,’’ concluded the reader, and stood in silence contemplating the order. A heavy sense of his responsibilities flowed in upon the young man as he crouched and weighed the document in his hand with the eye of an experienced military strategist, for such Thatcher had become. The major general up at division headquarters did not know better what to do in the exigencies that would confront him than the corporal in those which might present themselves at his door. This was an all-important fact. Indeed it is that which makes an army efficient in modern combat. As for Thatcher, it was his opinion that this was a corporals’ war. As Napoleon rose in his stirrups at Waterloo so Corporal Thatcher rose—cautiously—in his mudhole beyond the Meuse and surveyed the disposition of his forces, noting particularly the two excavations upon his right. In the last of these a single tin hat was occasionally visible. In the other there were two, those two being squatted under by a brace of young men who had proudly in their charge one of the new light Browning automatics. Noting that these men were properly on the alert the corporal gave the first of his orders. “Charlie,” he said, “it’s up to you. Somehow Tait got through here with an order meant for battalion head- quarters. He hasn’t got another hundred yards in him. You'll have to take it down.” Charlie’s face grew sober as he contemplated the ex- posed grassy slope beyond the woods at the bottom of the ravine. “It’s nothing so healthy working down to battalion H. Q.,” he observed. “It’s not, at that,’ admitted the corporal; ‘‘but it’s late and you'll have to shove off quick. On the way stop at the eighteenth company and show it to Captain Jackson. Tell him that the outpost of the fourth platoon, Corporal Thatcher commanding, has sent two men forward for the reconnaissance called for in the order and they'll be back on time, but it isn’t any daisy-picking expedition.” Charlie, reading the message again carefully, to fix it in his mind in case any accident befell the field order and he himself survived, planted the paper deep in his pocket and looked to his cartridge clips. Private Higgins thoughtfully dragged the slumbering runner into Adam’s end of the funk hole. “Turn loose with the Browning on those tree tops for the next ten minutes,”’ ordered the corporal. “That'll keep the snipers so busy dodging they won’t pester Charlie much when he crosses the open down there. Under cover of this same automatic barrage Hig and I will start that little reconnaissance up the hill.” As these directions were concluded Charlie Younger was setting out resolutely enough for battalion H. Q., but he turned back and stuck out a large dirty hand to the corporal. “Shake, Thatch!” he proposed, with no note of apology in his voice. The corporal seized the hand and wrung it. **Good luck, Charlie, old cheese!’’ he mumbled. The corporal and the private watched for a moment as Charlie zigzagged down the ravine, and before the two in their turn started in the other direction they gravely shook hands with each other, as if the notion had become infec- tious. “* Marie’s the one to write to,” confessed Otto. “IT always knew it,”’ replied Thatcher, quite unsmiling. But the Browning had begun to snap now and the two men sidled upward into the bushes. ‘‘We try to meet under that old pine with the top shot out of it, up yonder on the knot in the ridge,” directed the corporal as the paths of the two scouts diverged. ‘‘ Do you make it out all right?” “I’ve got it located,” said Higgins, taking a sight at the beheaded tree on the bluff above. “And we've got to keep an eye out for Adam,” reminded Thatcher. ‘Bet your life!’’ responded Hig with emphasis. ‘‘Some- thing has happened to him all right.’” And something had. He had gained the barn safely enough, finding its stone- walled farmyard deserted of all inhabitants save some industriously scratching chickens whose active presence proclaimed a miracle in that they had so far escaped the rude ravages of war. The walls of the barn and other buildings were shell-broken and rifle-pitted, but the peace of an interregnum appeared to have settled down upon the bat- tered old structures. It wanted now less than eight hours since Adam, after a succession of wet nights in the open, had been rendered wetter still by falling off a pontoon bridge into the Meuse, and this old barn with considerable areas of its roof un- broken and full of a comforting warmth from steaming piles of manure, proved singularly alluring. Climbing to the loft he assembled an armful of dry straw, bound it round with a withe of the same, and then, though ready to depart, lingered under the spell of the place and perhaps of the farmer blood in his own veins, until his roving eye fell upon something white and smoothly round on the floor of the old mow. It was an egg—warm to the touch—therefore new laid. An egg! It was months since he had seen an egg. Eternities since the taste of a fresh one had been more than a memory on his palate. “T’ll get that back to Otto,” he decided. “Old Hig is always crazy for an egg. Fried now—in some bacon grease—that small globule of hen fruit wouldn’t be too bad, eh? Hello!” There had been a flutter of wings and a speckled hen appeared upon the sill of the loft, advancing with long tentative strides, head on one side and inquisitive eye cocked in the general direction of the now motionless figure of the Marine. “Another one coming to lay,” deduced Adam, stooping and placing the egg exactly where he had found it. “I'll hang round a spell and take back an egg apiece for us.” Adam now sought to effect a strategic effacement of him- self from the purview of the hen, but she had spied him amid the shadows and halted with a warning cut-cut. “Nice hen! Pretty hen!’’ cooed Adam, worming back- ward along the eaves till it seemed that the gloom must have swallowed him even from eye of fowl. The pullet was definitely alarmed, however, and retreated. “*Not forever can she postpone the urge of Nature,”’ rea- soned Adam, and settled himself deeper in the straw. His patience was rewarded. Presently the little speckled hen was back, shaking out her feathers and settling with dainty propriety upon the nest. It is slow work, however, waiting for hens to lay, and the situation must have become irksome to a restless person like Adam but that the dryness of the straw was slowly absorbing the dampness of the young man’s uniform, while the utter lack of human sounds about lent a lulling sense of security. ““What’s the matter with making a fire and drying off for sure?” he inquired, starting up with the force of a new and highly commendable idea. ‘It’s « darned sight safer here than it is down in those old funk holes with the Jerries knowing we are there and trying for us every two minutes.” Acting on this impulse he found a means of exit to the floor below without disturbing the meditative little hen. Sometime later, while scouting round below, he was re- warded by hearing the merry cackle of achievement. **Next!’’ murmured Adam contentedly, surveying mean- while the feathered brood about him for prospects of other hens of egg-producing disposition, and added gloatingly: ‘Who says I won’t cop that old rooster off and take him down for a little family stew when I go back?” Indeed, Adam was at this time feeling quite contented with himself, for he had found a plentiful supply of dried fagots, and a little fire was going in the corner of the old barnyard. Having stripped off his clothes, garment by garment, he had them hanging in a circle about the blaze, suspended on the shafts and wheels of wagons and conven- ient portions of various farming implements. His shoes being the wettest portion of his outfit were suspended closest to the fire on prongs of a hayrake. Reminded by the chilling breeze that he was naked, and by the sharp gravel that he was barefooted, he had arrayed himself with all the grace of a Comanche chief in an old boche blanket found in the oxcart and had thrust his feet into a pair of wooden sabots that waited tenantless outside the kitchen door. Rifle in hand he was patrolling before his drying gar- ments, the oddest sentry-go the A. E. F. had ever wit- nessed, when ‘Cut-cut-ca-da-a-a-cut!’’ announced the hen. Though a French hen, she was speaking the same language as the hens of Nebraska, and Adam understood her instantly. It seemed to him, however, that a good while had passed since he began the making of his fire. “Would that be the speckled hen, now, I wonder, or another?” he inquired of himself after making that exult- ant remark to the rooster. He decided to see. Climbing a ladder in a blanket, however, was not the easiest feat Adam had ever performed, and the rifle he was carrying with him to the loft was therefore going to be but an added and unnecessary piece of impedimenta. With admirable forethought he left it behind, leaning repose- fully against the open tail gate of the oxcart, and arrived weaponless, with his eyes at the level of the loft floor, just in time to witness an unnatural act. The speckled hen having Jaid her egg 1nd advertised the fact in the traditional manner turned and plunged her bill voraciously into it. While Adam looked on, tco astonished to move, she ate it, shell and all, and in like fashion launched a drive at the first egg, which was not her own but the product of a sister’s industry. “You cannibal!’’ protested Adam, finding outraged speech at last. ‘‘ You eggeater!”’ Exasperated thoroughly he sprang to the floor of the loft and lunged toward the depraved creature, but too late to save the other egg, having destroyed which the hen fled mockingly, with a bit of the shell in her bill. Still pursued she leaped through a yawning shell hole in the roof and took wing to the yard below. For an instant Adam's flaxen head appeared behind her in the shell hole, with a baffled expression on the flushed features, and then was suddenly withdrawn. “Well I be jiggered!”’ gasped Adam, sinking into the straw, his florid face paling. ‘‘Well I be jiggered! What the Sam Hill am I going to do now? “Get my gun first thing,” he decided, and began a rapid descent to the floor below—as rapid, that is, as the cum- bering blanket, which continually tangled in his feet, permitted. Eventually Breede’s Number Nines became hopelessly interned in its involving coils and he pitched headfirst to the soft carpeting of broken straw and refuse that lay thick on the flagged floor of the cow stable. In the fall the soldier lost both his wooden shoes, and as he rose he abandoned his intention to rush immediately out into the barnyard, on account of a great ja-ja-ing that broke out there, accompanied by shouts of throaty laughter. Avoiding the door Adam reached by circuitous routings a grinning crack in the wall from which he could peer out. The four boches whose approach he had descried from the aperture in the roof had discovered the fire and his drying garments and were making wildly merry over the situa- tion. One rifled his blouse while a second gave attention to his trousers pockets. There being nothing for the other two to loot, each at the same moment snatched at Adam's drawers and each gained a leg; whereupon a playful tug of war resulted in a manner disastrous to the garment in hand. “Leg from leg!”’ raged Adam as he saw his necessary underwear meet its inevitable fate. And then he inquired of the circumstances again: “‘How am I going to get my gun?” This was a highly pertinent question, since the weapon in question still reposed innocently against the tail gate of the oxcart, with enemy forces all round it. The situation, how- ever, was just now rendered more acute, for all at once it seemed to strike those enemy forces that the American soldier to whom this equipment belonged was to be looked for in the immediate neighborhood. Accordingly they abandoned their horseplay and turned toward the barn. **Four armed boches against one Marine with nothing on but a blanket and no weapon but his fists—the odds are not too great,’ declared Adam stoutly. But having given hostage to courage by making this declaration in his heart he began next, and as a proper con- cession to military necessity, to organize a cautious retreat along the dark shadow of the wall into the less obvious parts of the structure which sheltered him. Now it is a merciful provision of Fate for the soldier be- leaguered in an old French barn that such structures are often rather complicated affairs. They generally occupy two sides of a rectangle and on the third side merge them- selves into the farm residence. This one was no exception to the rule. Adam, backing up, had encountered an alley between pig sties, the smell alone sufficient to proclaim the character of their erstwhile occupants. But though there issued no grunting of porkers to give advertisement of his whereabouts the boches moved in this direction as if guided by some unerring instinct. With his eyes accustomed to the shadow, and having the advantage of position so far as visibility was concerned, Adam retreated again, through a granary and into a kind of wood room. Here a bundle of fagots disobligingly fell down as he passed, making just clatter enough to direct the pursuers aright. “T sure am out of luck!’’ conceded Adam Breede in disgust, and cautiously tried the hasp on a door the smell from the keyhole of which betokened vinegar or wine. He entered this and found himself in a still darker room but with the shape of a wine press dimly outlined, and with guttered concrete floors with vats let into them. Adam knew the vats were there, for he stepped in one and found himself up to his knees in some fluid “*Champagne, most likely!” he grieved; “and I haven't got a minute, and my feet don’t drink.” This floundering in the vat again made a noise sufficient to summon the boche hunters onward, and as Adam emerged from the vat and found his hands groping against a yet heavier door upon the farther side of this room he heard them stumbling forward over the fagot heaps, com ing cautiously but chattering to each other in very good heart because they knew the object of their search was weaponless and unarmored even by clothes This second door which Adam had encountered proved of less height than the other but of very heavy construc tion, so that he could with difficulty manipulate the huge oaken hasp or swing the ponderous affair upon its hinge When it did yield a rush of cold air came out, heavy with a perfume that was more delicate and more appealing than the sweetish odor of the pressing room. “The wine cellar!” breathed Adam excitedly, and hastily stepped within. A wine cellar, especially if it was of any size, should afford wondrous nooks and hiding places, and somewhere in it there might be a ventilating shaft through which one could climb to safety. 5 (Continued on Page 119)

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116 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST March 15,1919 GB 7 4a Y y Yj WME Peppermint Cloves Cinnamon Wintergreen Licorice ad Dainty Bits of Flavored Sweetness Packed in Pocket Size Here is old fashioned sugar candy made a new fashioned way by an exclusive process. Just pure cane sugar pulverized to powdered fineness and flavored with the purest of peppermint, wintergreen, cinna- mon, cloves and licorice. Not “Hard Boiled”’ These natural sugar mixtures are not cooked, or boiled to detract , Cai \ | \ y SROMINTS- spa from their original texture and true flavor. . They are pressed by high powered’ machines into delicious confec- ue “RADIANS tions—solid thru and thru. Packed pocket size in aluminum foil, lined DFPPFRMINT Kt “RRDYINIS: ny with waxed paper. PFPPERMINT Te -RROAINY® \ Satisfies That Candy Craving PFPPFRMINT “ “ARYANS mee \ AROMINTS satisfy the craving for something sweet as does no DF DDFDMINT other candy, because they are just pure sugar and pure flavor. Xs. « ARONYNT'S mee. This purity makes them digestible. AROMINTS are the Som me sale, beneficial candy for children. ~ \ ve “SROANIS nennemiiar | And you can eat them at all times and places with- out offending good taste. AROMINTS are for sale everywhere—five cents a package—five popular flavors. ees —aneeee -WROAN'S 9 | § ppoorow amy * Wi: JOAN _—t- THE AROMINT MFG. COMPANY CINCINNATI, OHIO, U.S. A, Look for the Arrow and the box with the big “A”’ which you see in this advertisement. They are your guide to the most delicious package confection made. All over the world Qe --

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A New Douglas Pastry THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 117 For Those Who Like Pie Here is a new pastry confection—an irresistible pie. It’s a Chocolate Custard Meringue—baked in a faky crust—the final triumph of the pie maker’s art. You make this delectable pie with Douglas Corn Starch by the special recipe given on this page. You may have eaten Chocolate Pie before, but never a pie like this. ibe a@e sve Use Douglas Oil— made from Due to Douglas Quality the heart of corn alone Get a package of Douglas Corn Starch before you make this pie. Success largely depends upon its super-fine quality Made by an exclusive process, in a factory situated in the heart of the Corn Belt, from the finest grain that America can produce Douglas Corn Starch is the basis of innumerable delicious des serts, each doubly desirable because of high food value. Douglas Corn Starch is rich in nutrition at a very reasonable cost, an important consideration when many foods are so high. Also use Douglas Corn Starch mixed with flour when you make cake, to give lightness and fineness of texture. Use it as thicken ing for sauces, soups and gravies The special Book of Douglas Recipes, compiled by experts, ex plains the value of Douglas Corn Starch and supplies new recipes Originally published to sell for 50c, it is free for a limited time to users of Douglas Products, if you mention your grocer’s name It also contains some original recipes made with Douglas Oil, the super quality oil for salad, shortening and frying. Use Douglas O1 Order Douglas Corn Starch and Douglas Oil from your grocer If he hasn't “Douglas Brand”’ in stock, write us giving his name and address and we will see that you are supplied. Douglas Chocolate Pie Meringue ! ft 2 eg 5 1 oons Douglas ( arch Whites of 4s 4 teaspoon 4 “ . a poons “ - ‘ “ . ed Brat w . . Add baking powder and lke It anil : 1 bl on Do ‘ « = . = Ss > hocolate or 44 cup cocoa Crust ald 1 ps milk in double boil 1% cups flour p Douglas ¢ | gar, chocolate, salt, and Douglas 1 teaspoon sa 1 teaspoon baking 4 } Add p of cold milk to Douglas » cup Douglas OF}! 4 cup water (a B r lening ar 9 tarch and beaten egg yolks, mix Mis dr gredients rugt Mak ’ r) t ‘ H7Ongia and add » fire x re stirring a uw Dougla and wa nt ing tes DOUGLAS COMPANY, azsfasturers of General Offices: Cedar Rapids, lowa Corn Products New York, 15 Park Row Boston, 50 Congress St Chicago, 363 W. Ontario St Philadelphia, 10 Chestnat St AA TED TLE 5 One Pound Net s Company fact’ 9 of CornProduts Me cedar Rapisssiowa. USA , he é LA smth a D ou las Corn Starch |

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118 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST You can make your home so attractive! Acme Quality Paints and Finishes put the sunshine into the darkest corners of your home. What can be more joyous than to feel that every room is a good place to be; that every bit of furniture is a delight to the eye! All that comes close to helping make home more than just a name and a place to sleep! So little time and so little expense is involved « f ae ,. & en, ( >, Toms” ~ in spreading Acme Quality brightness. You yourself can do many successful home jobs, while your decorator will surely endorse Acme for more important work. Acme Quality Paints and Finishes are prepared to meet every home demand, giving a most satisfactory finishing touch to home decorating. There is a special Acme Quality kind for every surface. lame V, PAINTS & FINISHES To make your enthusiasm for beautifying all the keener we publish two helpful booklets—‘‘Acme Paint- ing Guide” and ‘“‘Home Decorating.’’ The first tells you everything you'll want to know about any work you'll want done; the decorating book offers helpful suggestions for the refinishing of the thousand and one surfaces about the house that are constantly becoming worn and shabby. If your dealer’s supply of these valuable booklets has been exhausted, write us. We will send them without cost. March 15,1919 = 3 ‘= VARNOTILE Ranma } | =f sate ae fh is = ( i y } For the many touching-up"' jobs about the house, keep always on hand at least a can each of Acme Quality Varnotile, a varnish for floors, woodwork and furn ture; Acme Quality White Enamel for iron bedsteads, furniture, woodwork and all similar surfaces; and, a quart of Acme Quality Floor Paint of the right color ACME WHITE LEAD AND COLOR WORKS Dept. A, DETROIT, MICH. Boston Minneapolis Pittsburgh Toledo Birmingham Dallas Lincoln Portland Los Angeles Chicago St. Louis Cincinnati Nashville Fort Worth Topeka Spokane Salt Lake City | {

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} i j ) (Continued from Page 115) But while Adam stood a moment peering into the darkness he heard a muttered ex- clamation and a splash behind him, and knew that a boche had slipped into the vat and was floundering in it. However, the floundering one’s grunt of dismay gave place to a shout, and in a moment all of them were down upon their knees guzzling at the wine. The Marine could hear them lapping and grunting like hogs over swill. ‘In five minutes they’ll drink themselves woozy, and I'll take four prisoners,”’ prom- ised Adam to himself. But the boches were more cunning and more pertinacious than that. After wetting the first layers of throat lining, as it were, they turned once more to the business of pursuit and capture. Apprehending from his cellary darkness that the pursuit had begun once more he executed a tactical maneuver sharply to the right, but experienced a dizzy sensation as he detected solid ground no longer under his feet, and himself dropping into space. The drop was a short one, mercifully—no more than six feet—and he brought up with a smash at the bottom of some stairs leading evidently to a subcellar. His head got a bump that left star shells h: anging in the air and Adam’s consciousness of just what was happening retired to some obser- vation post a long way off, so that he knew but dimly when his pursuers entered the cellar above him and began groping for- ward, saving themselves a like fate with him by moving straight ahead. ‘The poor old bean!”’ murmured Adam, holding his head in his hands and then caressing his other sore spots tenderly. But action rather than self-pity was in- dicated by the circumstances. Silently he crept up the steps, listened momentarily to the groping sounds on ahead in the dark- ness, and in an instant was out of the door and swinging it to with a heavy jar as the oaken bar fell into place behind it. “There, darn you,’ he was panting, “that'll detain you for a while,” when a rifle butt crashed down upon him. But in the dark the blow glanced, and Breede turning adroitly struck out into the shadow and grappled with something that grappled as promptly with him. Together the two wrestled backward across the old winery floor and together they splashed into the wine vat again, but with Adam twisting eel-like till he was on top, when having gained a hold upon his antagonist’s throat he held him under till a stream of gurgling bubbles and gradually weakening resistance suggested that victory was about to become his. Then he hauled his prisoner up, limp and gasping, and dragged him through the wood house, past the pigsties and the cow stable into the fullest light of day in the open courtyard. Inspection here revealed that Adam had captured a weak and undersized man who, thoroughly pummeled and three-quarters drowned, presented a spectacle so sorry that the victor could take little pride in his conquest, but flung the fellow down by the fire and turned to recover his gun and his uniform. The gun was there right enough, but the garments had disappeared. “How many Heinies have I got shut up in that dungeon —two or three?’”’ Adam interrogated of the prisoner or anything else about that might deign to answer, at the same time perking his ear to listen to the din, faint, far-off and smothered, echo- ing from the caverned recess in the hillside behind the winery —a din of shouts, curses, pounding gun butts and the occasional futile rage of discharged rifles, but all so muffled by distance and thicknesses of pon- derous oak that in the general atmosphere of pulsing sound that filled the firmament from horizon to horizon it would have escaped the notice of any who did not have vivid reason for expecting it. . “Take ’em about a solid week to batter out of there unless one of 'em’s got a bomb in his pocket, and chances are strong they haven’t or they’d have let it go before now,” reflected Adam contentedly; and again he surveyed the place where his cloth- ing had been displayed and now was not. Nothing remained of it except the sundered undergarments. “‘Souvenired my duds!” he exclaimed in disgust, and paused now to survey himn- self. His blanket, once dry and comforting, was wine-soaked. He took it off and found his wet and shivering body taking on a pinkish hue from the crimson wine. Adam retrieved the wooden galoshes from the barn, urged thereto by the harsh- ness of the pebbles under his tender soles. THE SATURDAY “There’s foot comfort anyway,” he philos- ophized, “if you can call it that when each one of ’em weighs a ton.” With the two separate parts of his draw- ers he next fashioned himself a piece of field equipment like to that of Kipling’s Gunga Din, “nothin’ much before, an’ rather less than ’arf o’ that be’ind,”’ but nevertheless sufficient to satisfy his native modesty somew hat. “W here’ d they go, Heinie, these duds of mine?” he demanded of his cowering pris- oner, kicking him into alertness of mind as he made a comprehensive gesture toward his own unsheathed ribs and the places on the barnyard furniture where his garments had hung to dry. The little boche appeared to understand, but there was no hint of humor in his frightened eyes as his glance confessed that he recognized his captor’s plight. He jabbered something incomprehensible and waved his hand out the gate and up the hill “Souvenired by somebody up the hill, eh?” interpreted Adam. “Well, I sure can’t go back without my duds. Lead me to ’em, Jerry—but lead me careful, bo!” And the breechclouted soldier of the sea made warning menace with his bayonet, whereat the little man nodded quick sub- missive understanding, and avoiding the open farm gate led the way through a broken piece of wall into a bypath that meandered through bushes round the back of the farm buildings and up the hill again. “T have a distrust of paths,” said Adam after a few minutes, and waved his man off into the bushes. Here noiseless progress was so slow that they must have consumed ten minutes in going one hundred yards. ‘Halt! commanded Adam suspiciously. ““What’s that I hear?”’ It was evident that the bedraggled little prisoner heard something also, for an odd, wondering light appeared in his beady ro- dent eyes. “Singing, by jiminy! Deutschland iiber Alles, huh? Golly, but it get’s my nanny how you Heinies can sing when we're lick- ing you every day. You must like getting licked.” It was not necessary to presume that the prisoner understood these observations of Adam, but the puzzled expression con- tinued upon his face. Adam meanwhile continued to work forward toward the sing- ing, though with natural increase of cau- tion, until at length the surmounting of the ridge brought to view upon its farther side a small amphitheaterlike hollow. It was from this that the raucous yodling pro- ceeded. “Heinie!”’ whispered Adam sharply, “if you emit a single yip I'll let my toz ads ticker plumb through your commissary. The little man’s demeanor bore abundant witness that he comprehended the gravity of the situation, whether he grasped the exact significance of the words that had been addressed to him or not. He flattened motionless and silent on the ground as betokening that his was a subdued and conquered soul from whose mind resistance or betrayal or strategic maneuver of escape was the farthest possibility. Using the boche’s body as some slight additional bulwark—a sort of parapet, as it were—Adam raised his head cautiously and peered over through the narrow space between the top of the prisoner’s back and the bottom fringe of the leafy screen formed by the bushes above him. “ Dancing!”’ exclaimed Adam in amaze- ment. ‘“‘Do I see what I see, or don’t 1?” What he seemed to see was a circle of boches, perhaps half a dozen in number with twining arms upon each other's shoul- ders, executing a grotesquely hilarious dance while they sang lustily with heads rolling and voices soaring high. The little boche prisoner after a moment could not resist his own curiosity. He, too, lifted his head and peered cautiously. Then a shouted word caught his ear, his small body stiffened excitedly and he listened the more intently, after which he turned to his captor with a whispered string of excited stutterings that the Nebraskan could no more understand than so much Esperanto “What's eating him now do you guess?” speculated Adam. ‘‘Same thing as them, I gamble. Heck! This must be the Kaiser’s birthday. The big stiff! Wonder they wouldn’t send us word. Then we could all have celebrated together. . . . Cold! Gosh! I must be having a chill!” And Adam, plentifully scratched by the bushes through which he had been creeping and plentifully doused with icy drippings from EVENING POST still wet branches, was violently reminded of his garmentless condition. “I’ve got to have my duds pretty soon,” he chattered, “or I'll be having the Ru- mania. Six boches! One Marine ought to be good enough for six boches, even on the Kaiser’s birthday; especially if I can get between them and their guns before they finish singing Meet Me by the C-c-c-cow- shed, K-k-kaiser! Come along, Heinie!” Adam was for stepping out of the bushes and skipping daringly down the hill, when the appearance of a marching platoon of men dragging machine guns after them halted him. “Too many for me,”’ he admitted mod- estly; ‘‘and too populous round here any- way. Come on, Heinie, we'll suspend the quest of our pants and prospect round bit. When I see as many Jerries as that in front of me I’m not exactly panting for pants anyway. Once more motioning his prisoner to precede him Adam headed into the denser brush and began to think of making for his own lines. It was about this same time that Corporal Thatcher and Private Higgins ended suc- cessfully the first leg of their scout by crawl- ing almost into each other’s arms amid the ancient accumulation of rocks and brush at the nearly inaccessible foot of the be- headed pine tree. “See anything of Adam?” inquired the corporal, first off. “No. You?” “Nup; not a single red hair of him,’ replied Thatcher, shaking his head gravely. Then he took a long careful survey of the brush-covered side hill with its crescent- shaped indentation upon one slope of which he had just advanced by a series of the most patient and painful self-effacing move- ments of which he had been capable. “ Well, Hig,’’ he inquired after a moment, reverting by the change in his tone to the general situation in which they found themselves, “what do you make of it?” “I’m puzzled,”” admitted Higgins. “‘There’s a bunch of the cleverest machine- gun positions I ever saw down there, double pits, every one of them, perfectly camou- flaged, and echeloned as neat as you ever saw, one drawing in behind the other as they extend back up the hill till there isn't a leaf or a blade of grass that couldn't be whipped to shreds from ’em.” “It's the same layout on my side,” de- clared the corporal ‘The position’s deadly. But what puzzles you?” “Why, they’re empty. There’s not a gun in ‘em—not a man in 'em. There never has been. They prepared the surest death trap I ever saw, and then they went off and left it. There’s something phony about it, Thatch.” “T think so,’ agreed the corporal. ‘They’re empty on my side, too, but I’m not so sure they’ve gone off and left ’em. Building those pits was an engineer job. It was done this morning; they're just through, and the gunners might be off tak- ing a sleep somewhere, and ‘Whist!’’ warned Otto. Thatcher’s voice was instantly hushed and the two men crouched motionless and listening while the sound of clumping feet on the rocky hillside trail came over to them, accompanied by the grate of grinding steel on granite. ‘You're right, corp,’’ whispered Otto, whose position afforded him the first view. “There’s an M. G. company going in now, a hundred of 'em, dragging their guns behind them.” “For God’s sake!" gasped Thatcher as the significance of the movement dawned onhim. ‘‘Ourattack must have been tipped off to them,” he reasoned after a moment in hollow tones of pain and chagrin. “Fifteen minutes after the second bat- talion starts up that hollow— with all those machine guns in position—there won't be any second battalion,’”” moaned Otto hoarsely. “You're right, bo,”” announced Corporal Thatcher, speaking with solemn delibera- tion as he visioned the picture: At two- thirty this afternoon the magnificent second battalion, still eight hundred strong after the heavy fighting of last night and this early morning, entering the woods bravely, buoyantly, determinedly —and then, fifteen minutes later, those on carpeted with a new and terrible kind of autumn colors; carpeted with the yellowish hue of khaki and crimsoned with running splashes of vital red. A tear forced itself from the corporal’s eyes—eyes not given to tears. 119 “You're right, buddy.”” In moments of extreme emotion it is the human instinct to disregard barriers of rank and get as close to the fellow man as possible. “ You're right.” But another idea had now obtruded itself upon the mind of Private Higgins “Thatch,” he whispered, “Thatch” twice, as if to detach the mind of the cor- poral surely from all other considerations “we're cut off. We can’t get back.” The corporal was silent for another in- terval. “’S right,”’ he concurred presently. “ Ws can’t.” “*L-1-l-look at ’em!” as a second company of machine gunr appeared on the other side of the rock, also filing at an angle into the woods on the left Corporal Thatcher observed this newest manifestation of enemy intent calmly. “Otto,” he announced, “‘we have got to get back. Got to!” Higgins regarded his corporal with grave approval. “We have,” he responded laconically. “So our artillery can just about set these woods on fire with thermite,”’ elaborated Thatcher. “They can’t use gas because we've got to go through ourselves in a few minutes, but if we get ’em the right coérdi nates on the map there won't be anything left of these fellows but cinders when the second battalion starts over.” The corporal drew out his map and bent over it, compass in hand, completely ab sorbed for the moment with indicating the machine-gun positions thereon with the most careful accuracy. “Fire’s getting heavier,” commented Otto, cocking his ear as if to screen out the near-by clatter and grate of iron-shod heels and steel gun runners on the rocky paths below them. The upper air was indeed full of sound. It thundered from horizon to horizon and back again, while a kind of brassy haze hung beneath the drifting clouds teen getting heavier ever since we started,’ affirmed the corporal. But besides that distant roll of thunder there was, immediately overhead, the sound of shrieking, moaning, sizzling shell, the departures singling themselves out from the arrivals unmistakably to the practiced ear ‘And it’s getting heavier every minute now,” he continued, folding up his map. “It sure listens like Fritz was trying to burn up all the powder he’s got in this one day.” “And nutty Bill said the war was going to end at eleven,”’ remembered Otto with irony. Thatcher smiled derisively. ‘It’s twenty minutes to eleven now,” he noted. How do we get out?” inquired Otto “Got a plan?” “No! Bust out!” said Thatcher sen- tentiously. “‘T suppose you're going to wait till these fellows get by, at any rate,”’ suggested Otto, slyly puncturing his corporal’s tones of bravado as he nodded toward the machine gunners still trickling by. “We might as well let ‘em pass, I reckon,’ answered Corporal Thatcher, though un smiling and taciturn now, his face taking on that expression of black solemnity which most men wear under circumstances like those in which the corporal and the private found themselves At length the file did pa *Now we've got to look ou for strag glers,”” warned Thatcher; ome darned busybody lieutenant or captain trailing along behind.” “There he goes,”’ observed Otto as some kind of officer, attended by noncoms and an orderly, clumped past, plucking at hi fierce mustaches fiercely “Always lool 2 like they’re on parade bef groaned Otto again, ‘ re the looking glass, don’t they “Now,” ordered Thatcher after a r spectful interval, ‘‘ you cover the crest there with your rifle while I cross the trail, and I’m not going to be long about it either Then I'll flop and cover the crest while hop over.”” This maneuver was completed suces fully “Work to the left is my program,” ar nounced the corporal; “down the hill t the left. We ought to be able to squeeze through somewhere and beat it while the beating is good.” “Sounds as good as anything,”’ conceded Higgins, though a trifle gloomily, and fol- lowed his corporal, whose manner of going forward was one adopted closely from the serpents of the earth. (Concluded on Page 123)

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST March 15,1919 i e " - -- < : . 7 om ane ee RR ee ee eT ae x REA sae PE

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Concluded from Page 119) “I’m wearing my tummy clean out,” admitted the corporal himself after a little. Sut they crawled steadily forward, with occasional pauses for minute and painstak- ing observation. “Gosh!” gasped Otto in the midst of one of these, and all but obliterated himself in the grass. “What’s the matter with you?” de- manded his superior officer impatiently. “T saw a naked Hun.” “Naked?” “He looked like September Morn. Noth- ing on but his helmet.” “Well, that’s no reason to be so seared. I'd be more afraid of one with his clothes on.” “But he had his gun. He was sneaking along through the brush like he’d seen us, and he had a pam, masher in his hand, all ready to lob over. Gosh, I see him now!” “*Give me a squint. Otto yielded his post of observation be- hind a stump, and the corporal peeping warily also discerned the naked body, gleaming white through apertures in the screen of branches, though the upper part of the torso and the face were screened from view. “Skinny-looking brutes, aren’t they? he commented. ‘‘ Don’t know that I ever saw an uglier pair of legs than those.” “What do you make of him parading round her re in the altogether?” “Crazy!” opined Thatcher. “They say hi alf the Huns are crazy one way or another.” “Is he coming any closer?” “No—standing still. Stock-still.” “T could put a bullet through his heart easy. He'd think it was somebody kissed him, and—curtains!”’ ‘And bring the whole show down on us,” frowned the corporal. “Not on your life! No; we don’t shoot till we have to.” ‘Maybe he don’t see us after all,” specu- lated the lively minded Otto. “Oh, there’s two of ’em. The other's got his clothes on all right. He’s kind of crawling ahead of the first guy.” “Crawling? What are they so careful to keep out of sight for behind their own lines? That’s more than I can see.”’ “They’re stalking us all right,” Thatcher. ““Maybe, but I don’t believe they see us now,” urged Otto, worming in where he = could observe the figure. “The way iis body’s turned he’s looking in the other dire ction.” “We'll move off very careful,”’ decided the corporal. ‘You start and I'll cover him. If his gun comes up we know we're seen and I'll pump him full. Then we'll hop and run for it—fight for it—any old thing so one of us gets through with the info about this M. G. ambush.’ Otto wormed six feet onward with the corporal watching the visible portion of the nude figure like a hawk. ‘He don’t move,” whispered Thatcher. ‘“* Maybe it’s a statue— one of these poetical figures the French are always sticking round in out-of-the-way places.” “Only they’re beautiful,’’ reasoned Otto. ‘This fellow certainly has got the knottiest legs. I'll cover him now and you come on. There now —there—-he’s moved! He’s turn- ing! He's going back up the hill. Naked, by gum, except for a G string round his middle! Well, if that don’t get me ‘Keep your head down,” orde red the corporal shortly as Otto in the excess of his curiosity forgot himself somewhat. The two men crouched and crawled on- ward steadily, from rock to rock, from thicket to thicket, progressing ever down- ward, and ever obliquely to the left and toward a salient where the last of these ambushed machine-gun positions joined the boche front line. ‘Did you ever hear such artillery fire in all your born days?”’ inquired Otto as they paused to breathe and he lifted his eyes to the reverberating heavens. gloomed “T didn’t think it could be heavier than it was a quarter of an hour ago, but it sure listens like it. Why, the ground is shaking under me—that is, unless, by gum—”’ he interjected with a burst of candor—‘“un- less it’s just me trembling.” “Five minutes’ artillery preparation. Heck! They’re giving us five hours. If they’ll only put some of it in the right place! What time have you got?” ‘Five toeleven. Hum! That last M. G. trench is about thirty yards over there, isn’t it? It looks empty. Maybe we've beat ’em to it. If we have, Otto Corporal Thatcher's sentence ended in a great gulp, which of itself showed how deeply he had despaired and how greatly he dared now for a moment to hope. Their position was at the rear of and slightly above the short shallow trench, but as they looked a knot of boche helmets suddenly appeared above the parapet. ““No use!” the corporal ejaculated with a kind of choke in his voice. The reéntry of despair into the human heart after momentary departure affects different men differently. It affected Otto now to an attempt at dolorous humor. “Oh, saddest words of tongue or pen—it might have been,” he said. But the corporal getting a fresh grip upon himself was grimly thoughtful. Be- yond the machine-gun position on the left was a road —a road that led straight down to where the corporal and Otto so much desired to go—a road that was apparently cunningly screened from observation by skirting brush; but both men knew the boche mind well by this time, and the details of much of his strategy. They knew it was a thousand to one that road was covered, so that even if they gained it a spurt of death would greet them. No; if they escaped it must be through a breach in this echeloned formation of double machine-gun pits. ““We might turn back and try to make it between the second pit and the third,” suggested Otto. “I thought the distance there was a little wider.”’ ‘Try it, then,’ ordered Thatcher shortly. Otto reversed himself and began tosquirm back, then stopped abruptly. “The naked boche!”’ he whispered. “‘ He’s behind that rock the re, looking down. He's looking right at us.”’ “We ought to shoot him, the depraved cuss!"’ decided the corporal. “That’s what I say, blast him!” mut- tered Otto desperately. “* This whole situa- tion is getting on my nerves.” And he took careful aim at the unsuspecting Adam Breede. ‘But we dassent,”’ reflected Thatcher. “We're too far back of the line. If weshould fire a shot here a whole platoon of these gunners would be on us in a minute. We wouldn't have a chance to start a run for it even.” Baffled and almost despondent they crawled back again. “Otto,”” announced Thatcher solemnly, “this is a forlorn hope now. Our chance is to rush the last trench, lob over a couple of bombs, jump in with our bayonets and clean ’em up, then run for it straight ahead through the brush, figuring that one of us might * “Yeh,” interrupted Otto, eager for defi nite action of any sort. ‘‘That’s it “‘T’m a dead shot with a grenade at twenty yards,’ Otto remarked when they stopped crawling next. ‘‘We can’t be more than twelve now. I can hear ’em breathe al most.” “You take the bunch on your side; I'll take these on my end,” directed Thatcher. “We'll pull the pin and count one—two three, and let,’em have it. Remember, one of us has to get through, you know. Even if you’re shot through the heart, Otto, keep going, old boy. It’s the whole second bat- talion, you know.” “You bet I know!” said Otto with the fervor of honest devotion in his tones. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST The two men did what they had done before that morning and never previously in the war. They shook hands with each other. Then each drew out a shiny goose egg of steel and examined it solicitously. “Ready!” said Otto. “Pull!” Thatcher was just going to say, when a strange expression came over his face. He had heard the cackling of a hen near that barn way up there. “How still it is!’”’ he exclaimed. “Still?” echoed Otto, and he lifted his face with a look almost of fright upon it. “‘Why—why—darned if it isn’t still, Thatch!” he stammered. In the sky above was a kind of far-distant rolling echo, a prodigious specter of a sound that died away slowly like the death rattle of a universe, but round them all was silence. There was not a voice of cannon, of trench mortar, of machine gun, of gre- nade—of anything. The two men gazed at each other in a sort of soul hush. “What's it mean?” demanded Otto. “Search me declared Thatcher, un- willing to admit the one thought that had inst antly leaped into his mind. “Could it be the—the !” There. The corporal ” “The armistice! had jerked his thought out bluntly. “Then Bill Tait wasn’t lying, after all?” The two men reached out and clutched each other violently. Then both faces in their bewilderment turned toward the trench, for something peculiar was happen- ing there. The men in it were in listening attitudes, awed as Thatcher and Higgins were awed, by this miracle of sudden si- lence. There was a difference in their manner, however; they listened as if only to make sure of something, and then tossed off their helmets and began to dance and sing and shout. But at this juncture a flying nude figure bounded upon the parapet, and the aston ished Otto and Thatch, still crouching in the bushes, heard a familiar voice shouting: ““Kamerad, darn you! Kamerad!” For a moment the boche celebration was completely spoiled. With the song gasping dead in their throats the Jerries fell back in fear and amazement from the astounding spectacle of Adam Breede and the threaten- ing menace of his brandished bayonet, as if they beheld an apparition ‘Kamerad!” commanded Adam harshly, frowning and flourishing his shiny blade. ‘Kamerad!”’ Hands went up round him, and voices shouted “ Kamerad,” but they were half laughing voices, roaring, guffawing voices of men who after a brief consternation nudged one another and went off into peals of mirth as they saw the puzzled look grow on the face of their eccentric captor, a lool which proved that he was not insane but merely laboring under a misapprehension “Cut it out, Adam!’’ ordered Corporal cates, coming forward to assume hi go yng ‘It’s the armistice!” Well, you sons of guns!" exclaimed Adam in astonishment. ‘Where did you come from? Armistice! What the 3 ‘It went into effect at eleven o'clock that’s three minutes ago,”’ explained the corporal in as matter-of-fact tones as he could command in view of the cataclysmic processes of mental adjustment through which he had just passed And now, why this September Morn stuff, Adam? Where are your clothes?”’ ““Some boche souvenired ’em while I was taking a swim in a tank of champagne,” explained Adam briefly. ‘‘ But, say!” Cheers and yells and songs and laughter, all in German voices, echoed from the woods, and the mystified expression on Adam's face was increasing. ‘ What is thi armistice stuff? What do you mean armistice ; iia Nar's over,” 7 hate her ‘The hell it is!” gg -d Adam in a high-keyed voice ‘Wt iy, I haven't got responded Corporal 123 half through licking "em yet—the dog goned kameraders!”’ The tall nude young man gazed about him in supreme disgust. As the sounds of hilarity in the woods behind him increased his expression of disgust also increased “Sounds like they thought they'd wor the war,” he grumbled ‘Don't it?” assented Otto H gyin But a timid touch on the arm recalled the attention of Adam to his duty toward his captive, who still followed him docil as a well-trained prisoner should Now with a meek deprecatory smile the runt boche pointed to his exuberant comrade and repeated the old jaw-breaking formula of incoherent gutturals which he had tried so many times upon his captor in the last half hour “Ho?” inquired Adam in sudden com prehension. “‘The armistice? That what you been trying to tell me all this time that the armistice was coming?” ‘Ja! And the bland little Hun nodded amiably. “Well, get to blazes in the re and enjoy yourself with the rest of em!" exclaimed Adam; and he skillfully planted his wooden shoe in such a way as to supply sudden transportation for the prisoner into the ditch with the other jocular celebrants of defeat. “Let’s get out of here!” directed Thatcher. ‘“* They make me sick— holding a jollification over getting the tar licked out of ’em. Blast ’em! I hate ‘em worse now than I did before.”’ “Wait, I’ve got three prisoners up the hill,” reealled Adam, hesitating. “ But, 1 I don’t want ‘em now; and the litile boche will remember to turn ‘em loose, I reckon.”’ The three Marines stepped boldly out into the open road. What a change a few minutes had wrought! Death no longer lurked in the open spaces. Trees and cra ters, heights and ditches, stumps and bow ders—had all alike become harmless. No death dropped down from the sky None surged up from the ground beneath their feet. Yet the men did not tall They were rather solemn; and a they valked toward their own lines they noted that there wa silence there as well Just where the road opened on the gra lope Charlie Younger and Bill Tait came hurrying t ‘Thank God, you're back!" exclaimed Charlie. “That order of attach you found in my pocket had been superseded by the armi stice,”” Tait hastened to explair ‘I’ve got that ali figured out, Bil ymeet then responded Thatcher a trifle sarcastically But Charlie and Tait, once their anxiety had been relieved, had gone off into whi winds of laughter at the spectacle of Adan ‘They picked you pretty clean, Breede,”’ Charlie taunted “Oh, I'd have had ‘em back all rig but the armistice came too darned soor he ret yrted But it was plain that Adam was embar rassed and ill at ease, and as they walked ilong blushes did not confine themselv« to his face but chased themselves all er his body Meanwhile Charlie was reciting hur riedly to the whole party what |} learned at battalion headquarters of tl terms of armistice *‘Hold!” broke in Adam earnestly. ‘See Foch, Charlie, at once and get him to add one thing to all this list of material to be turned over. Have him add my pant Just my pants will be enough. Th have the rest Afd I'd like 'em no hate awful to walk down the compar ‘ thi . Ad Ct e winked at Thate! itor i Bill ‘ Sinthitia wicca eg pered Tait ‘I don’t blame him,” conceded Ott taking occasion now tostudy them critica! at closer range

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124 The Litmus Test Papers told her that she must check “Acid-Mouth” Buy W. S. S. Litmus lest Papers THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Reoularly A number of small cavities already had formed in this young woman’s teeth. She wondered what the cause could be. __A friend advised her to make the Litmus Paper Test. She did so at once, and it was a mighty good thing that she did. For the paper turned pink and told her that she had ‘‘Acid-Mouth.” Looking in the mirror, it was but natural for her to imagine what her teeth would look like late in life unless she checked the sasteless, insidious acids that gradually weaken the enamel and expose the soft interior —~she very life of a tooth—to the destructive action of germs. This girl—now well on her guard—has a reliable dentist examine her teeth twice a year and uses Pebeco Tooth Paste regularly twice a day to counteract “‘Acid-Mouth.”’ Why is this girl’s experience of interest to your Because you very likely have ‘‘Acid-Mouth.” Dental authorities believe that 95 in every 100 persons have “*Acid-Mouth” and that it is the chief cause of toothache and tooth decay. Your chances to escape ‘Acid -Mouth” would therefore seem to be only one in twenty, unless you take proper precautions to check the condition. What are proper prec autions? Go see your dentist more often. Use Pebeco night and morning, because—as the Litmus Paper Test will readily prove to you—it does counteract ‘‘Acid-Mouth.”’ Pebeco Tooth Paste makes other just claims to popularity. It whitens and brightens the teeth, improves the gums, increases the healthy How of saliva, and endows the whole mouth with a delightful exhilaration. And its Havor is refreshingly undisguised. Send for Free Litmus Test Papers Place one of the blue Litmus Papers on your tongue. If it remains blue, your mouth is free from an unfavorable acid condition. If it turns pink you have ‘‘Acid-Mouth.”’ Prove this by brushing your teeth with Pebeco and making another test with a second paper. It will not change color. You can buy Pebeco Tooth Paste, with which to make the test, at the drug store where you trade regularly. Pebeco is sold by druggists everywhere. Manufactured by LEHN & FINK, Inc., 120 Witliam Street, N. Y. “OUR SIGN IS OUR BOND - PEREN TOOTH! PASTE ene March 15,1919 {

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All together — Let's continue production and insure prosper- ity. U. S. DEPT. OF LABOR WM. B. WILSON, Secy SATURDAY EVENING POST THE rs By “ '\ “ag ee ee ear ee ‘ oe | “wy . ~ vs , , ‘ ‘FZ - ¥ ” in eid seme Ge oid ae . 7 ) ,v/ dye 7 Sap 2. og BS al Se FH Heating fica r nee yit assure " oul pe and small coal bills Whether you’re building, buying or renting—heating comfort and fuel economy are vitally important considerations. Engineers agree that steam is an ideal heating agent. But the best steam heating service in the world will not perform properly if its radiators wilfully waste fuel; refuse to give heat from end to end; hiss, leak, and hammer—because their air venting valves do not function as they should. Hoffman-equipped radiators give super-service—are 100% efficient. A Hoffman-equipped radiator doesn’t hiss, hammer and gurgle. It doesn’t drip water over your floors and rugs, and perhaps ruin the ceiling below. Hoffman-equipped radiators save coal—they do not refuse to warm up, though the fire in the cellar is roaring, with the pressure-gauge hitting the high spots. Hoffman Valves permit every radiator in the house to get hot all over and stay so on low steam pressure. Therefore, they make coal bills smaller. Ask your architect or steam heating contractor for his expert opinion he know A Five Years’ Try a single sample Hoffman, Write for Guarantee which will be mailed prepaid upon Our Booklet Hoffman Valves are sold with an receipt of $1.90—Your steani heat- “More Heat from Less Coa | unqualified five years’ guarantee. ing contractor will © Hoff-manize dearsihes ih: sinible, nan-techs If you are not completely satis the rest of your system language, what fied, return them to us through the ‘dealer, for full purchase price. HOFFMAN SPECIALTY COMPANY, Inc. 512 Fifth Avenue, New York City HOFFMAN VALVES should ] ar how Hoft more heat from less coal

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SATURDAY EVENING POST March 15,1919 ‘*Royal”’ durability gives extra years of service —ends the **trading-out’’ evil. ‘‘Royal’’ clear-cut type impressions stand out — prove the perfect presswork. And ‘ Royal” versatility achieves correspondence, card and bill work with equal facility. That’s why big business standardizes on this typewriter of demonstrated efficiency. ROYAL TYPEWRITER COMPANY, INC, Royal Typewriter Building, 364-366 Broadway, N.Y. scies the World Over

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 27 iy Ze EZ S DELAIDE, the under housemaid at Belmont, was a very shy, diffident girl; so much so that, dressing for her evening out, she blushed at the sight of her brilliant new hat. She felt that if she had been pretty it would have been easy enough to carry off such a hat; but she wasn’t pretty, like Edith, the parlor maid, and she knewit. She was not grand and dashing, like Mrs. Vaughan, the cook; not elegant and graceful, like Emily, the head housemaid; not even black-haired and pale-faced or full of fascinating sauce and impudence, like Loo, the kitchen- maid. When chaffed she never had an answer ready; and if she thought of one afterward she was too timid to go back and say it. She looked out of the window of her attic bedroom and wondered if Lyndhurst, the small house on the other side of the road, would ever let again. It was beginning to have a shabby, war-battered aspect, in painful contrast to the general prosperity of Hill Road. Between the side walls of Lyndhurst and the villa next to it she had a fine view of the clustering roofs of the suburb; and farther off she could see the open country, and the main line of the South Western Railway, along which the troop trains had already been running for nearly three years. Unseen, at the bottom of Hill Road, was the corner round which you plunged into traffic, gayety, noise—trams and omnibuses passing by; the big public houses, shops, cinema theaters—life! It was at this corner that young men used to hang about, waiting for the young ladies of Hill Road on their evenings out. But no young man had ever waited there for Adelaide. Thinking of the corner she felt almost too shy to face it—especially in her new hat. But it was her evening out, and she had to go out. Presently she had sidled round the corner and was in the crowd of the big street. In spite of the hat nobody took the least notice of her; she might have been invisible; and gradually she became less self- conscious and more capable of enjoying her promenade. By the time she had reached the third picture palace and was standing outside it looking at the posters and the photographs she had quite forgotten herself. “Joan of Arc: The film that aroused a nation.”’ She stood gaping at the highly colored portrait of a young lady in armor on a white horse. ‘‘ Monday, Tuesday, Wednes- day. Do not miss it. It has moved young and old, on both sides of the Atlantic. You cannot see it and go away just the same as you were before.” What did that last bit mean? Adelaide raised her gloved hand and felt her hat, with a return of uneasiness. And then the young soldier spoke to her. “*Going inside?”’ “Beg pardon?”’ said Adelaide, almost fainting from the suddenness of this surprise attack. “‘T passed the remark, whether you were going in to see the show.” “I wasn’t intending,’’ Adelaide gasped. ‘*‘No more was I,” said the soldier; ‘that is, not alone. But I don’t mind if you don’t. Shall us?” Adelaide was speechless. ““Come on then,” said the soldier, and he led her through the hall to the pay box. “I got my purse,”’ said Adelaide, finding her voice in the closeness of the danger. “T treat.” “Oh, no— please!’ He had done it, paid for both; and next moment he was holding her firmly by the arm, guiding her through the darkness, keeping her off many toes that she would other- wise have martyrized, preventing her from sitting on a strange gentleman’s lap, and finally depositing her in an unoccupied seat side by side with himself. Her heart was beating wildly, her thoughts were in a whirl. She was out with a soldier, being stood treat to the pictures! Breathing fast she peered toward the stage. It was the end of a prairie sketch. As usual the sheriff and his posse were arriving at a gallop. They released the men bound to the tree, and the lights went up; and Ade- laide saw the closely packed audience, and glanced at her soldier. He was sun-burned, young, fair-haired. “‘War nougat,” said a brightly dressed girl attendant coming along the gangway with a small tray of boxes. “War nougat. Nougat bits. Very sweet. Nice nutty flavor.” ‘Here, miss,’’ said the soldier. ‘Give me a box, please. How much?” “Two shillings. Thank you.” “Do you eat that stuff?’’ asked Adelaide, determined to make conversation. “No, but I expect you do.” of war sweets. “Oh, no! I couldn’t think—I can’t allow _ “Gammon. Don’t be huffy about it. Why not? I meant no offense.’ And he handed her the box Adelaide to her indescribable surprise saw that he was blushing. And a wonderful but very comfortable idea flashed into her mind: Could it- be possible that he was almost as shy by nature as she was? “I’m not offended,”’ she hastened to assure him. ‘I think it’s very kind of you; only * “That’s all right then.”” And he smiled at her. “I’m on leave, 1 am. I saved up for it.” The lights went down, and a brief exhilarating interlude entitled The Runaway Motor Car was vividly presented. Adelaide sucked her sweets, laughed at the runaway car until she nearly choked. When the lights went up again the soldier was wiping tears from his eyes. “I do like a laugh,” he explained as he slowly recovered his composure. ‘My name’s Budd—Dick Budd. You haven't told me your name yet.” ““My name’s Cross—Ad’laide Cross,” said Adelaide, carefully imitating the formula. “I’m out in France, with my battalion. The Sixteenth Battalion.” “Tt’s dreadful out there, isn’t it?”’ “No; it’s right enough.” “You say that, but I don’t expect you mean it.” *O’ course I do!”’ And he looked hard at her, as though not understanding why she should doubt his word. “Were you always a soldier “No; I was in a warehouse.” Never in her life had Adelaide experienced such a se- quence of pleasurable sensations—delicious flutter of ex citement, laughter, sucking sweets; and now an unforced flow of conversation; a swiftly evoked mysterious sym- pathy that made companionship joy, that destroyed bash- fulness. ““When it’s over what will you do ness?”’ “‘Not me, Ad’laide. No, I shall go out to the colonies.”’ Then the lights went down again and the piece of the evening began. One was introduced to a charming American girl who had dressed for a fancy ball as Joan of Are. In this cos- tume she showed herself to her elder brother, a man of con siderable position under the Government, who expressed admiration of the attractive costume by face and gesture, and finally asked her a simple question in large plain hand- writing: ““Who was Joan of Arc?” No question could have been more opportune; for most of the audience, including Adelaide, were anxious for infor- mation on the point. The young lady replied to him with a concise written statement; and time being permitted for it to soak into the audience all became duly seized of the historical or traditional fact with regard to the Maid of Orleans. The elder brother immediately changed the conversa- tion, becoming frowningly serious and saying to his sister: “The war is not going well. There are too many sleepers I despair of waking them.” Then after the ball the young lady went about America on a white horse with a banner, and woke the sleepers Everybody flocked to the banner. The women as well as the men But this was not all. Next one saw her in the war itself. She had traveled the horse; and on its back in France she did remarkable things. The generals trusted her more and more, and when they had given her full powers she fairly got the Huns on the run. But at length the routed com mander in chief of the enemy by subterfuge captured her and shot her as vengeance while the whole mob were hur rying back to Berlin. Her last words flashed upon the screen: “I do not die in vain. Those I have awakened will not sleep until the work is done Of course the unrolling of this drama took a considerable time; the film was a long one; intervals were allowed. During the intervals Adelaide talked volubly to her com- panion. Her face was flushed, her eyes glowed, her voice shook a little with emotion; she had been carried com pletely out of herself. She was a different girl. But for the hat her fellow servants would not have recognized her if they had seen her chattering to the soldier. “ Dick, is it like that out there?” “Well, I can’t exactly say I’ve seen such things myself. I been mostly in Flanders and down by Arras. I don’t quite follow how she got up so far like. Mostly the girls you know, the ones in khaki as well as the nurses— aren't or I mean, before the war? go back into busi both sexes could help allowed not to come up beyond the principal headquarters. I should have thought the military police would have stopped her.” “But the generals invited her we Ng “Dick. Tell me true: they ever under fire to save the situation.” Where the girls do get to—are 9” C =—By W. B. Maxwell “You bet! They get shelled proper now and agair Why, you'll see the nurses’ name s in the lists “Then if a girl saowed herself what Joan of Are showed herself?” Dick saw her home, right up Hill Road to the gate of Belmont, where they lingered, talking confidentially It was a splendid summer night and Adelaide looked up at the moonlit sky wondering if the fine atmospher cond tions would tempt Hun raiders. Instead of thinking about the coal cellar as a refuge she imagined herself seated in a battle plane high up there waiting to drive off the intruder She felt like a sleeper awakened; great thoughts stirred in her. “‘Ad'laide, you see I like you.” *T like you, too, Dick.” They promised to write to each other, and moved up the road a little way to exchange postal addr scribbled in the shaded light by a lamp-post es that they “*T shall come straight to see you next leave. I'd come again this leave if I wasn’t booked down home at I “You mayn't find me here, Dick. But I'll write and tell you wherever I go to.” “Promise—and kiss on your promise. I like you, Ad'laide.”’ “LT like you, Dick. But, Dick, I shan’t never marry you unless I feel I'm worthy of you.’ “Well, I haven't gone so far as to ask you that, have 1?” Then as if struck by an ungallant turn in these word or as if suddenly making up his mind he said with firmnes “But, you know, I want for us to be engaged like.”’ Adelaide answered not firmly of tone, for there was a little break in her voice, but with a decision of purpose that was unmistakable “No, Dick, you go away from me free, an’ 4 ye back to me free. Think of your duty first an’ me after ward. An’ remember my words: I shan't never consent to marry you unless | feel in my own self I’m worthy of you.” As Adelaide said these and other astounding things, trifling with an offer that would have seemed fantastically advantageous a few hours ago, she looked upward to the summer sky Tears had come to her eyes, and unconsciously she raised her hand, assuming the exact attitude of the ilm young lady during the delivery of that last speech, ‘* Those I have awakened will not sleep until the work is done,” “I shan’t change my mind, Ad’laide “Nor I mine. Good-by, dear.” And they hugged and parted With the feel of his lips still on her face and the pressure of his arms still seeming to encircle her body Adelaide stood by the kitchen table at Belmont and talked to her fell servants “I don’t understand you,” said Mrs. Vaughan, the cook “And I don’t understand you,” said Adelaide. ‘ But I begin to. There’ Ww many things in this house wants under standing Mrs. Carter—she’s easily under Keep the home fires burning That’s to say, five able-bodied women who might be he Iping to win the war The missis stood. and her Funny she and the dog would look if they met the enemy advancing round the corner!" “Oh, we've heard that tale before,”’ said Edith, the kep’ here to coddle and fuss over one idle woman a widow too parlor maid ““And much you'd have done to prevent it coming true! You take the dog out regular, don’t you, morning and eve And Mrs. Carter she give for your devo ning, in almost all weathers? youa blouse one she’s tired of wear ng ) tion to Bingo, doesn’t she ] understand that part of it But I tell you, cook, and you, too, Edith —I tell the of you, I don’t understand how you've the face to carry on with it. And I don’t understand how you'll look—but precious foolish, I guess—when the boys come hore an’ ask you, some of ‘em, what you've done to help the cause It was not new; but coming from such a quarter i created a considerable sensation In the old-fashioned melodramas an immense effect used to be produced wher the supposed deaf, suddenly abandoning his disguise, defied and harangued the oppressors; and the effect of Adelaide’ outburst was essentially of the same character. She, the tongue-tied, the downtrodden, had found a voice and di closed herself as outrageously uppish in spirit irprise robbed her hearers of all power of repartee; for once it wa they and not Adelaide who had no answer ready No sauce or impudence came from Loo, not a flash from Emil; one after another they drifted away in crestfallen silence, leaving Adelaide seated on a corner ol the kitchen table and negligently swinging by it trings the new hat Mrs. Vaughah was the last to go, after bolting doors and locking cupboard Yesterday she would have ordered Adelaide out of her kitchen before retiring herself. To- night she said: ‘‘ Turn the lights off, please, when you come up.” Concluded on Page 131)

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THE SATURDAY EVENING IIURNENUL UOT LA UUNLAEUAUALUA CARLISLE CORD TIRES —4 — — —— Uncanny Machines Build the Tire Carcass of Uncut Strands of Sturdy Rope breaking only at 235 Pounds MAGINE a tire built of continuous strands of sturdy rope, eac h strand insulated and separated from its neighbors, each strand under perfectly uniform tension, each strand tested for high tensile strength, each strand individ- ually inspected to detect the slightest imper- fection. Imagine the strength of such a tire. Imagine its extreme resilience. The breaking resistance of the Carlisle Tire is more than 2000 pounds per square inch. Blowouts and all the usual run of tire troubles are almost wiped off the boards. Carlisle Tires are cool at 60 miles an hour, for their construction eliminates that old bogey, internal friction. No ordinary tire machines could build a Car- lise Tire. Special machines have been in- vented. They are faster than the old tire building machines and far, far more efficient. They eliminate chance and reduce mistakes to the vanishing point. Even the curing of Carlisle Tires is done differ- ently. The finished tire is one homogeneous mass of rope and rubber. Tread separation and carcass friction are things of the past. Call on One of These Live Distributors EL PA TEXAS, C. D. Fr n \ Work i FRESNO, CAL., C. P. Seeberg HAMTOD ' iI R GREAT ‘WALES MONT., Nor t 4 na A 1 , HARRISBURG PA. Standard Auto § Rk HARTFORD, CONN., Post & Lester ¢ b J Ar I Hit oe i Beg. Bo von Har Young ( ' , 4x : sdb HOUSTON, TEXAS, Bering Tire & Repair ( : B 4 N DIANAPOLIS, IND., Gibson ¢ ; rood-Cf y OPLIN, MO., Kleinschmidt & He EXAS, I Tire & Rubber ( LOS ANGELES, CAL., Geo. H. Gr COL... ¢ tT r LOUISVILLE, KY., James T. Short ! ! \ I ‘ MANILA, P. L., Teal & Cc I \l ! > ( MILWAL KEE,.WIS., Milw kee Tir Export—]. B. CROCKETT CO SKOGEE, OKLA., Musk ¢ Tire Repair ¢ SAN FRANCISCO, CAI Tar Crowe Co. NEW BA EN CONN. Post & Lester ¢ SAN IOSE, CAI san J A Supply Co NEW LONDON, ¢ Post & Lester ¢ SCRANTON, PA., Lackawanna Auto ¢ NEW ORLEANS, L . Shuler Auto Supply ¢ In SEATTLE, WASH., Steam Supply & R mpber ( . NEW YORK, Carlisle Sales Company, In 237 W SIOUX FALLS, S$. D., H. F. Brownell 8th St SPOKANE, WASH., W. S. Melcher OKLAHOMA CITY, OKLA re ~ kson Tire ¢ STOCKTON, CAI Willard Hardwa re C ILADELPHIA, PA., Th Han n ¢ ST. PAUL, MINN., M Rosen Co PITTSBURGH, PA., Miller & We odwas d, Ir SYRACUSE, N. Y., Syracuse Aut Supply C POCATELLO, IDAHO North western Auto Sup rACOMA WAS H Steam Suy pls & Rubber ( ) ly ¢ TOLEDO, OHIO, Union S ORTLAND, ORE., Pa Tire & Rubber Co PORONTO, ONT., CANAI yA ‘Hy P Bros., td » NEVADA, MelIntosh Motor Sales ¢ WASHINGTON, D. ¢ L. G. He in ROANOKE, VA., Motor Car Equipment Co WATERBURY, CONN., P .& hatter Oe aon r LAKE CITY, UTAH, Carlisle Tire Company WILKESBARRE, PA., Lackawanna Auto Co. ANTONIO, TEXAS, Central Tire ¢ IMPANY, I New York CARLISLE CORD TIRE COMPANY, Inc., Andover, Mass. Sew “N ~ vw A 1M ww stint mr Mn yet UPAOAPA LLLARLL ALAMO MAAR LA COCR CAC ao rm iin Mm wu" i i . oa ——r—Iwm" “a PALILIIV ww — ‘ Cts eee © | mt ALU LRULLMAMMLRAA OL CAAORAD LET LEAL CUPLALCOMUECEDEUCUTAVLELGLREEEPTCAEYRARLARLELEGRLALL LOR LEMOACLAERMPEL COOMA CCCP LOTTE LIE MMI TLLUA EERIE LOMO CE CUT EeT CAL UEEGE CLL March 15,1919 be

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST i K 2 ma? ‘ i iy by i Z “Soe. ; ' Mi H y ; a Ten ? > —_— =_— — ra Enduring Strength Nothing will move so easily, so accurately and with so little wear as a ball. Steel balls with race-ways are the scientific adaptation of these principles to modern efficiency requirements. No modern mechanical refinement approaches the ball bearing in the values it has brought to every industry. This is a proven fact. Important among these Values is that of enduring strength, prolonging the fulsome capacitie: of any mechanism in which ball bearings are installed, far beyond the life of the machine, were they net a part of it. Economies resulting from the use of ball bearings are realized in power saved, decreased con- sumption of fuel, upkeep expense plus proportionate increased production. Ball bearings are the friction-eliminating factor you should seek in the machinery that works for you, whether it be in factory, car, home or garage. THE NEW DEPARTURE MANUFACTURING COMPANY Bristol, Conn. Detroit, Mich.

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130 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST March 15,1919 — = . : “ —,- _s Economy! | There is one big reason why |! there are more Torbensen |; Rear Axles in service than any other type of truck axle— Torbensen Drive Saves Money It saves gas and oil because the flow of engine power is through a very efficient form of gearing, and there are no load strains on driving | members. 1 It saves on fires through the Tor- | bensen practice of carrying the load ‘ on a forged [-Beam, which reduces ; rear axle weight by one-half. It saves on repairs. The Torben- sen is so simple and strong that it works efficiently with little atten- tion. All working parts are access- #5 i ible for quick adjustments and replacements. It saves time. The Torbensen is without defectorweakness. Itstays on the job and doesn’t stall in mud, snow or sand, because the Torben- \ sen Powrlok delivers power to the wheel that has traction instead of wasting power by spinning the wheel that has lost traction. a ——— ee a a Torbensen Internal Gears have the nearest approachtoperfect rolling tooth action, Rolling con- tact consumes less power in friction than sliding contact does. This reduc- tion of friction cuts down the cost of gas and oil, and 4 Torbensen Drive does the / work of the conventional differential but eliminates }) its bad features. Powrlok ) drives through the wheel ' which has traction,instead 4 of spinning the wheel , | J or ewes j Torbensen Powrlok in ' ; ' 2 PERE a which has lost its grip. It saves tires and prevents : : : a a ; stalling or skidding in | 1 ‘8s lo » Se; \ ;) insures long life to gears i snow, mud or sand. i feete Penatnaatnaeaae | B becee | Pw eee Beko - ~ omen tn ai se F. THE TORBENSEN AXLE CO. CLEVELAND. OHIC LARGEST BUILDER IN THE WORLD OF REAR AXLES FOR MOTOR TRUCKS

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(Concluded from Page 127) “All right, cook,”’ said Adelaide. Next day she gave notice, announcing as her reason for departure that she felt a call to go straight out to the war. “Something of this has reached my ears already,” said Mrs. Carter; “and I think you are talking, and evidently wanting to act, in a foolish manner—in a manner rather ungrateful to me, Adelaide, who have tried so hard to keep things together and make you all comfortable during this dreadful war, at great sacrifices to myself.” In fact, this was the first defection in the domestic ranks, and Mrs. Carter had con- sidered the matter with care. She did not attach any value to Adelaide’s services; if the truth must be confessed, Adelaide as well as being shy and awkward had shown herself to be slack and incompetent; so that in spite of the disgusting difficulties of life caused by this wretched war Mrs. Car- ter did not doubt that she could secure a better second housemaid in Adelaide’s place. But the danger was that the rest of the household might be upset. Anything to prevent that. When one goes another fol- lows. Stifling her pride and irritation, therefore, Mrs. Carterspoke to the would-be deserter in a tone of affectionate sympathy. “Adelaide, I honor the emotion that moves you, and I'll og no more of my own wishes. But with the best will in the world you don’t know what you are undertaking. Believe me, you are not strong enough.” ** Joan of Arc,”’ said Adelaide, “‘ was only a poor weak girl. Yet she drove the Eng- lish out of France.” “But you don’t want to do that,” said Mrs. Carter. ‘“‘Now you're talking like a pro-German. I don’ t think you know your- self what you want. “Oh yes I do!” said Adelaide. “I want to fight for the freedom of the world, and not lie snug abed and eat regular meals here, when half humanity’s starving and bleeding.” After that there was no more to be said. The only thing was to get rid of her at once. “But leaving me as you do,”’ said Mrs. Carter, “without serving your month—you go of course without your money.” “T prefer to go without my money,” said Adelaide loftily. Within an hour she had packed her trunk, and a taxicab stood out- side the front door of Belmont. Good- by, ” said Ade laide to her fellow servants. “‘ You won't never see me again.” Adelaide tried to be a W. A. A. % o be a W. R. E. N., an A. 8. C. M. a V. A. D.; she tried for all the le ial rs o ‘the alphabet; but everywhere she was rejected. Most unfortunately for her, at this period the authorities had decided that they did not want any more women for service with the armies in France. People at recruiting offices sent Adelaide on to munitions; but here again she met with disappointment. None but skilled hands were required. Everywhere she was confronted with lists of printed questions; and when she showed that she had no qualifications for war work, people asked her orally even more distress- “Can you cook?” “Are you ‘Have you had 9% ing questions: a really good housemaid?”’ practice in waiting at table? There was a chance, possibly, of putting her into a work-girls’ canteen; but even this chance soon vanished. Besides, she did not want to wash plates or sweep floors here in England; she wanted to get across the water and do great deeds in France. She had spent nearly all her savings; she dared not go home to her mother and fat her in Wiltshire; mother would not under- stand why she had given up her situation, and father was so old-fashioned a parent that there was no knowing what he might not do to one if really angry. At last, driven by necessity, she accepted the offer of a domestic servant's place. The offer came from a lady whom she had met at some emp Jloyment- committee room; a businesslike, quick-speaking lady called Miss Finlayson, who led her into the secretary's office and addressed her with confidential briskness. “ By an accident it so happens that I am in sore need of a housemaid. Three kept cook, house and parlor. Happy, comfort- able home-—but, mind you, I expect to see the work properly done. Very good. Then I am prepared to take you at once if character from last place proves satis- factory.” “The lady I was with,”’ said Adelaide, “couldn’t but give me a good character but, ma’am, I simply @an’t apply for it.” wo? “ THE SATURDAY Poor Adelaide explained all the circum- stances. She had left in order to enroll her- self in the army; she had spoken strongly on the duty of giving your life to your coun- try; they had attempted to laugh her down. If they learned that all the fine talk had ended in this they would laugh louder than ever. “What was the lady’s dress?” “To rathe or not tell you even that,” said Adelaide. ‘I don’t want no communication of any sort with them.” Miss Finlayson looked hard at Adelaide, and then came to a prompt decision. “Adelaide, I will risk it. You appear honest. Your story is corroborated—to a certain extent—by your applications here and elsewhere. Come early to-morrow morning. It is a thing I would never have done in peace time. But the times are not normal, there’s no getting away from it.” And she told Adelaide how to find Num- ber 18, Berwick Road, Hammersmith. “T am moving from there shortly,” she added with briskness, but in a kind tone. “T have taken a house farther out, and you will all be happier ther re—better air, countrified surroundings.” “Yes, ma’am. “The house I have taken needs consider- able repairs, and I am having great diffi- culty with the landlord, who is grasping, diatory and shifty. However, directly I have forced him to fulfill his bargain and render the place habitable I move in. The war is made an excuse nowadays for repu- diating all obligations—but we won’t dis- cuss that. Good night.” Adelaide settled down in Berwick Road, and a dull apathy possessed her. It was a relief, perhaps, to have some regular meals again, for she had been going rather short of food lately; but she felt that her heart was almost broken. In spite of every effort to appear cheerful she wrote dolorous let- ters to Private Budd, B. E. F. Her fellow servants were easy enough to get on with, and they left her unmolested in her sadness. They saw little of their mistress, who was out early and late at her committees and hospitals. She worked hard herself, and she did not like to see others slacking. She blended something of the war spirit into her admonitions, but to Adelaide it did not seem to be the rea! true flame of patriotism. ““Now, don’t go to sleep over it—not in wartime,’’ Miss Finlayson would say. ‘ Re- member, there’s a war on. Weall have to do our bit. And one can do one’s bit here just as usefully as anywhere else.” Nevertheless, on the whole, Adelaide liked her in a dull, apathetic way; and she accepted occasional rebukes without mur- muring. After about a month the household moved. Miss Finlayson carried through the operation as though she had been a regimental transport officer, ordering about the old men as they loaded the two pan- technicon vans, inspecting the rather scraggy horses, and seeing that they were properly fed before she gave the word to move off. She had secured a private omni- bus for herself, the three servants and all the light baggage. It was a tedious, un- ending drive. ‘Now we are not far off,”’ layson at last. Adelaide had been dreaming. She roused herself, and glancing through the window of the omnibus door with faintly awakened interest she gave a little start. She had seen this street before—that bootshop was an old friend; one, two, three cinema pal- aces, all three familiar to her. At the place where roads, meet, among the trams, near the corner by the big public houses, the omnibus lurched and began to turn in the direction of Hill Road. “Where are we going?”’ gasped Ac de laide. “What’s the name of your house? “Lyndhurst,” said Miss Finlayson briskly. “ We are close to it now. I recog- nize the acacia tree.” In another minute the omnibus stopped outside the newly painted woodwork of Lyndhurst. It was the little unoccupied house immediately opposite to Belmont, Adelaide’s old home. name and ad- said Miss Fin- She was overwhelmed. Her main thought was to escape discov- ery by the servants at Belmont. She tried also to hide from tradesmen’s boys who might recognize her. She never went out except after dark, and then heavily veiled But it was all no good. One morning the milkman spotted her cleaning the steps of Lyndhurst. EVENING POST Miss Cross, isn’t it—that 9. “Bless me! used to be over the way? A day or two afterward he addressed her facetiously; and she knew at once that he had betrayed her. “Yes, they was surprised across the road. They all sends their compliments. They tell me”—and he sniggered—‘“as you've changed your name. Not Ad’laide any more, but Jane. Jane of Hark, eh? Haw, haw!” It was bitter to think of how they were all deriding her. From the windows of Lyndhurst she saw one or other of them many times in the day— Edith, elegant and mincing, as she emerged early of a morning with the odious dog, Bingo; the black- haired Loo without her hat, dancing down the road to fetch potted meat from the grocer’s; Mrs. Vaughan, dressed like a duchess, issuing forth to pay the weekly books. Mrs. Carter had kept her command together; all of them were still there though the milkman said that Loo had some ideas of going on the music-hall stage and earning big money. As the months passed Adelaide carried a heart of lead beneath her print and serge dresses. Nowhere but here would she have suffered so grievously from the sense of fail- ure. She was sustained only by two letters from Private Budd. Very dark thoughts came to poor Ade- laide now that all the bright ones had gone. She had been ready to give her life to her country but they would not take it; and she thought sometimes that she would take it herself. Then Miss Finlayson’s parlor maid left, and Adelaide took on the parlor maid’s work as well as her own. She did not mind the extra labor; indeed, in that it gave her less time for sad reveries it was welcome, Miss Finlayson praised her highly for thus throw- ing herself into the breach. ‘I hope to relieve you by the week end, Adelaide; and I’m re ally grateful for the way you’ ve tackled it. “Oh, it’s nothing,” said Adelaide. “How do you mean, nothing? I think it’s a great deal, and you've done it splen- didly.” “It’s all child’s play,” said Adelaide, “compared with what they're doing out in France.” “Bravo!”’ cried Miss Finlayson cor- dially. ‘‘That’s the spirit,’”’ and she gave Adelaide a pat of approval on the shoulder. A little later it was agreed between them that the parlor maid should not be replaced; Adelaide would carry on. She worked hard now, harder and harder, She had, it must be owned, never really worked before; but that thought of France and what was happening the re made toil seem easy, and fatigue one’s proper por- tion. She used to say to herself: “If I’d had my wish and been agcepted I'd never have been off duty; I’d have had to march fif- teen miles on end like those girls in the newspaper; I'd ‘a’ been busy all through the night as well as day.” “It is no compliment,” said Miss Finlay- son. ‘ You are making me a good deal more comfortable than when we had Eliza.” “Oh, don’t mention it, ma’am,” said Adelaide. During the fogs and frosts of winter the cook's health began to fail, and unknown to Miss Finlayson Adelaide was doing a lot of cook’s work also. Adelaide liked it; this learning how to cook brought a new faint interest to her weary life. The cook used to sit in an armchair by the dresser, sighing and giving directions. Upstairs in the dining room Adelaide asked shyly while she cleared the table: “Did you like the pudding, ma’am?”’ “Yes. Tell Mrs. Smiles, excellent. I must say old Smiles can cook plain fare against anybody. If she ever broke down I don’t know what I should do. The war is making existence more difficult every da) Cooks are like diamonds now—fetch any money.” In February the blow that Miss Finlay son dreaded fell upon her; Mrs. Smiles showed symptoms of pleurisy and had to be removed to a hospital. Adelaide car ried on. ‘If you don’t mind,” she said, “I'd much prefer you didn’t get another. I shall be happier doing it all alone, and I promise you shan’t suffer.” ‘Adelaide, I admire your pluck and good feeling, but you really can’t do the work of three. You will simply kill your- se ‘if in atte mpting ” “Oh, no, ma’am, that’ s all right. Give me a trial anyways 131 The trial was made, and Miss Finlayson did not suffer— far from it. She had never been so comfortable in her life. Adelaide always improving, by the summer had «dk veloped into that greatest of household treasures, a perfect general servant. It was not only that she got through the work of three people; she did it so much better. The brass was always shining, the steps were spotless, the hot water was never cold; and as a tour de force, or crowning proof of energy, Adelaide allotted a day ir each week to give one of the rooms a thor ough spring cleaning “Oh, my dear girl,”’ said Miss Finlayson one evening in a burst of genuine enthusi asm after her good dinner, “what wife you will make! What a wife y ou will make some day, when the war is over!” Adelaide flushed, then turned pale, and he Tr lips trembled. ‘Are you engage od, po “No, ma’am. But I have a friend, and I’m very anxious about him.”” And Ade- laide began to ery. It was so long since she had heard from him, and she doubted if her own letters ever reached him. At night she used to have dreadful dreams that he was killed, or taken prisoner, or that he had yuite for- gotten her. But for the hard work she would have gone out of her mind from anxiety. Then, when the summer was nearly over, the milkman brought across the road a letter that Dick had addressed to her at Belmont. Her hand shook so much that the milkman had to carry the milk for her into the kitchen. She waited until he had gone before she opened Dick letter. He was alive, not a prisoner, and he still remembered her. He had been transferred to another battalion, which had done a lot of mov ing about as well as a lot of fighting But now things were — ‘ter, and he hoped to get a turn of leave before long. He re proached her for not writing, and he put a great number of signs of multiplication or addition after his signature. That afternoon she overcame her pride and reluctance, and going across the road faced her old fellow servants at Belmont It was an ordeal, but it had to be gone through. She was obliged to ask them a favor. She begged that if her soldier turned up there looking for her he might be sent at once to the correct address. She could not risk the chance of misunderstanding or de lay when Dick came round the corner and up Hill Road. **A soldier?” said Loo wickedly. “I sup- pose you mean a brother officer. ”’ “Yes, of course,” said Mrs. Vaughan; “she’s a general now, and we mustn't for get it.” And so they chaffed her ‘To be sure. When you went into the army we knew you'd do well, but we never thought you’d go up so rapid as to be a general within the year.” Adelaide bore it all without flinching or attempting to answer back. She felt the pinpricks, but they were nothing to what she had experienced from her own thought It was in September when he came, still daylight after a warm day; and by provi ' dential good fortune Miss Finlayson wa dining out and would not be back till late They went out toge ther, and along unfre quented footpaths between the villas and the fields. At such moments as the pat! were quite empty they did a lot of hugging; and really to any tender-hearted person it would have been touching to hear them talk to each other. Adelaide told him all about it-—her high aspirations, her vow to do something great or perish in the attempt, and her total and miserable failure. Before she had finished she was sobbing on his shoulder ‘I tried, Dick —I did try. An’ they, they wouldn't let me An’ I’ve worked, Dick. I've learnt to cook real well. 1 do the whole house for her, and she praises me. I’m not the helpless, useless girl | was — but when I think of all I dreamed and hoped I feel I've nothing to live for, and I want to gostraight to the river and commit suicide.’ ‘No, don’t dothat,”’ said Dick. “ Live for my sake. We'll be married soon’s the war's over. And we'll light out for the colonies All this cooking and housekeeping, what you speak of, will come in very handy out there.” Then they went to the cinema theater the one where they had first met—-and sat with clasped hands, except when the light were up. They w runaway motor cars, and jolly Wild West scenes; and A felt happy again.

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST March 15,1919 Rubber Process An advanced method of manufacture that intensi- fies the inherent strength of rubber— increases its endur- ance and resiliency—tough- ens it as iron is toughened by con- version into steel, rendering it virtually impenetrable to cold, heat and dampness. Gillette tires and tubes can’t be weakened by weath- er. All of their fully developed strength is given over to the making of mileage—making THEM the least costly of tires and tubes as one Gillette on your car will prove in mileage competition with other makes. GILLETTE RUBBER CO. General Sales Office 1834 BROADWAY, NEW YORK, N.Y Factory: Eau Claire, Wis.

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— 4 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST

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Its main business was to devise ways and means best suited to the exigencies of the time. Through thick and thin the commit- tee held fast to this big fact: The trouble was not one altogether of wages, hours or conditions. All these had a part, a very large part, in the temper of the industrial districts. But they counted for less than many people supposed. Adjustments may be made to meet demands in wages, hours, and the like; frequently matters look as if settled for good, but soon the same old dis- content crops up. This has been the case in Great Britain throughout the war, and I dare say it is typical of industrial history everywhere else. The milk in the coconut is a larger share in control over those mat- ters which affect the daily interests of the workingman. Naturally the average em- ployer is unprepared for any such scram- bling of his managerial eggs, and it is not too much to say that the average worker has not prepared himself for much service in this respect. But the subject does not end here. Though the mass of England’s industrial workers do not clamor for the ousting of the employer, suppression of his managers and executive force, and the substitution of a new régime-composed of the names on his pay roll, the idea of a larger share in control has taken root. And during these recon- truction days a vigorous and unwearied group of industrial crusaders are pushing it with millennial ardor. But, as I have said, the general temper is not extreme, the specter of Russian conditions, if nothing else, serving as a grim caution against flying leaps with the industrial organization. Practical Suggestions The Whitley Committee saw what wise employers have also seen, that there is an instinct among the workers which repre- sents something wholesome in human na- ture and something beneficial to industry if a way could be found to satisfy it and yet keep industry sound. The committee held that the way of promise was in the direction f building on the idea of mutuality—not f the lion-and-lamb-lying-down-together business, but the idea of association be- tween equals, between necessary principals n the industrial organization. And with this controlling thought the committee rocest d d The Whitley Committee was appointed ‘to make and consider suggestions for se- curing a permanent improvement in the relations between employers and workmen. To recommend means for securing that industrial conditions affecting the relations between employers and workmen shall be systematics ally reviewed by those con- cerned, with a view to improving conditions in the future.” In March, 1917, the committee reported, recommending the establishment in all wel!-organized trades of joint standing in- dustrial councils, representative of em- ploye rs and employed; and in July of that year a letter was addressed by the Minister of Labor to all the principal employers’ associations and trades unions, asking for their views. By October, 1917, so many favorabl replies had been received that the War Cabinet decided to adopt the report as part of its reconstruction policy and in structed the Ministry of Labor to assist in the formation of joint industrial councils. In October, 1917, a second report on joint standing industrial councils was presented, further elaborating the scheme. At the present time joint industrial coun- cils have been established in the baking, hedsteads, bobbins, building, chemical, china clay, furniture, gold and silver, ho- ery, leather goods, matches, paint and arnish, pottery, rubber, silk, vehicle and building trades. Negotiations are going on in the surgical instruments, waterworks, woolen and worsted and other trades. The machinery suggested by the Whitley reports is based on the principle of local option. The committee recommend that in addition to the national councils repre- senting the whole industry there should be created joint district councils and works committees, subsidiary to the national councils. The district councils would deal with questions having a local character; the works committee would deal with all questions domestic to a particular plant. is a feature of the scheme that the constitution of the 1 mal and district THE SATURDAY EVENING POST CONTROL OF THE JOB (Continued from Page 12) councils, of the works committee, and of all subcommittees of any of these bodies, shall be based upon the principle of equal repre- sentation of employers and employed. typical council will thus consist of an equal number of representatives appointed by the employers’ associations and the trades unions, the chairman as a rule being chosen alternately from among the employers and the workers. The exact lines on which works committees are formed vary accord- ing to the conditions of the several indus- tries, but in each case the lines adopted are the result of agreement between the em- ployers and the men. Whatever methods of representation and voting are adopted special consideration is given to the position of foremen and others in similar posts. These men are sometimes members of the unions and sometimes not. In some cases they have their own unions. Their functions are partly those spe- cially belonging to management, partly those of labor. Their position is one of great importance and they may become either a great aid or a serious obstacle to progress. The steps taken to insure their represen- tation vary in each industry, but the com- mittee lays emphasis on their place in any successful operation of the plan. The Ministry of Labor supplies any national council with a representative ap- pointed to act as a liaison officer between the council and the various government de- partments. The acceptance of such as- sistance is purely voluntary, and a nominee of the ministry is appointed only at the request of a council. A majority of the councils have, however, made this request. As to the scope of the councils the Min- istry of Labor has made the following sug- gestions: Means to secure the largest possible measure of joint action between employers and workpeople for the development of the industry as a part of national life and for the improvement of the conditions of all engaged in the industry. Regular consideration of wages, hours and working conditions in the industry as a whole. The consideration of measures for regu- larizing production and employment. The consideration of the existing ma- chinery for the settlement of differences between different parties and sections in the industry, and the establishment of ma- chinery for this purpose where it does not already exist, with the object of securing the speedy settlement of difficulties. The collection of statistics and informa- tion on matters appertaining to the indus- try. The encouragement of the study of processes and design and of research, with a view to perfecting the products of the industry. Industrial Research The provision of facilities for the full consideration and utilization of inventions and any improvement in machinery or method, and for the adequate safeguarding of the rights of the designers of such im- provements, and to secure that such im- provement in method or invention shall give to each party an equitable share of the benefits, financially or otherwise, arising therefrom. Inquiries into special problems of the industry, including the comparative study of the organization and methods of the industry in this and other countries, and, where desirable, the publication of reports. The improvement of the health condi- tions obtaining in the industry, and the provision of special treatment where neces- sary for workers in the industry. The supervision of entry into and train- ing for the industry and coéperation with educational authorities in arranging edu- cation in all its branches for the industry. The issue to the press of authoritative statements upon matters affecting the in- dustry of general interest to the community. Representation of the needs and opinions of the industry to the government, govern- ment departments and other authorities. The following objects have also been in- cluded in some of the council constitutions: The consideration of measures for secur- ing the inclusion of all employers and work- people in their respective associations. The arrangement of lectures and the holding of conferences on subjects of gen- eral interest to the industry. Coéperation with the joint industrial councils for other industries to deal with matters of common interest. Demobilization and resettlement, the training of disabled soldiers and sailors, the position of returning apprentices, the priority of release of “‘pivotal” men from the army and navy, education, and the rationing of raw materials, are among the subjects that have already been taken up by councils formed under the scheme. Now in this scheme of industrial organi- zation there are three points that seem to call for special emphasis: In the first place, the scheme goes a long way toward securing industrial autonomy. Though the decisions of a national indus- trial council have no statutory force they do represent the considered opinion of the employers and the men, and in practice they are binding on the industry as a whole. Elastic Machinery In the second place, the machinery is decentralized and elastic. The provision for district councils and works committees is of importance, for it insures the direct discussion and settlement of local ques- tions by those whom they immediately con- cern. It is clear that the possibilities of development are very wide. Here is a simple and elastic machinery by which all the parties to any industry can be brought together for coéperation. New methods of organization can be tested by experiment, and adopted or rejected according to the teaching of experience; and in the mean- time the ordinary work of the councils and committees creates an atmosphere of ba we sympathies and understanding in hich the discussion of new issues can be cabvied on with a better prospect of gen- eral agreement. In the third place—and this is the most important point of all—the object of the councils is not merely to settle or even to avert disputes, but, as I have pointed out, to secure codperation in the improvement of industry; and this idea is nowhere better expressed than in the work of the Builders’ National Industrial Parliament, which was in process of formation at the time the first Whitley report appeared. Though the decision of the Ministry of Labor to treat councils as the channel of communication adds greatly to their value it would be a mistake to lay too much emphasis on this official relationship. The great advantage of the plan is the oppor- tunity for industry to work out its own salvation in the light of its own special knowledge. The principal report of the Whitley Com- mittee, published in March, 1917, was unanimous, and its rec ommendations have gained universal recognition as a wise and practical compromise between the views of the conservative employer, who regards all trades-union activities with suspicion, and the revolutionist, who aims at de- stroying the existing industrial structure altogether. .The main proposal of the Whitley Com- mittee—the establishment in every indus- try of a permanent joint council of employers and employed—looks on the face of it obvious enough. In point of fact, the acceptance of that principle was a revolu- tion in itself, for it meant the recognition of a community as the basic fact in the industrial world rather than as an antag- onism of interest between employers and employed. Always the development of industrial organization, both on the men’s and on the employers’ side, has proceeded entirely along separate lines. The employ- ers’ associations and men’s unions have in fact acted as a continual challenge to one another, each trying to consolidate its own position in order to have power to drive a hard bargain with the other. The master stroke of the Whitley Committee was to take the two organizations as they stood and, far from trying to weaken the in- fluence of either, try to make each as com- prehensive as possible, in order that by acting together instead of in opposition they might be able to legislate effectively for al! the interests comprised in the industry. The Whitley Committee made one bold decision at the outset: It resolved not to March i5, 1919 trouble its head in the first instance about methods for settling industrial disputes. The secret of half the disputes that arise lies in the fact that both sides approach each other as natural antagonists and never get into serious negotiations at all till feelings on each side are already exacerbated by the signs of a coming collision. Get the men and managers to codperate as a regular practice in fair weather, said the Whitley Committee, and in foul weather they will find their own way of averting a dispute before it becomes dangerous. Following that principle the committee stuck to posi- tive proposals. Every trade, it said, ought to have at the center a national joint coun- cil, bringing together the men’s unions on the one hand and the employers’ associa- tions on the other. That joint machinery ought to be reproduced locally in the form of district councils and works committees, each composed of equal numbers of em- ployers and employed, with or without an independent chairman. The kind of question a joint council reckons to deal with, either directly or through its local councils and committees, includes the better utilization of the work- ers’ knowledge and experience; the means of increasing the control of the workers over conditions in industry; the settlement of the general principles of employment, such as the basis of time and piece rates and their relation to one another; industrial train- ing; methods of negotiation on points of difference between employer and employed; industrial research and the application of its results; the use, development and pro- tection of inventions and improvements devised by workers; general coéperation in increasing the efficiency of the industry; and the promotion of or declaration of a common opinion on legislation affecting the industry. On that foundation Whitley councils in more than twenty different industries have been formed. The experiment so far has fully justified itself, but the time for judg- ing it in earnest is not yet. War conditions of industry have been entirely abnormal. The national crisis was bound in any event to work powerfully for codperation between employers and employed, and the influences operating against industrial disputes have been strong. The real test of the Whitley scheme will come in the next two or three years, when reconstructed industry settles down once more into fixed grooves. How the Council Works Out If the new coéperation can survive the pains of reconstruction and stand its ground under the new industrial conditions, its permanence as part of the established mechanism of industry should be assured. There is every prospect, indeed, that it will extend and develop into something more, for if the workers’ demands for a larger control over industry are to be satisfied the Whitley councils provide the most obvious means of satisfying them constitutionally. Before considering that, however, it is worth while examining the achievements of a Whitley council in actual working. One of the earliest councils to be formed was that in the painting and decorating trade. The national joint council was intended to meet four times a year, but it was found that at least twice as many sessions were required to deal with the business. Its purpose, according to its official statement, was ‘‘to promote the continuous and pro- gressive improvement of the industry, to realize its organic unity as a great national service, and to advance the well-being and status of all connected with it.” The council does not profess to concern itself primarily with the settlement of industrial disputes, but its aid and advice are, in point of fact, constantly sought in local controversies. Its chief business has been the equalization of real wages through- out the country, the prevention of unem- ployment by the better organization of the industry, arrangement for the employment of disabled soldiers and sailors on such terms that their pensions shall not be allowed to depress the wage standard, the promotion of technical training and research, the con- ditions of apprenticeship and the pooling of schemes for the better conduct of the industry. The wage question has been taken in hand in earnest, and rates have been (Continued on Page 137)

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 135 Bn wt + “Well. Old Pal. 5 But tellme~ re Sg 4 tid Jill” 0 Cha _ This is the spirit of the i new era. eae —enthusiastic eagerness to Bt tackle the still bigger job nd of peace and progress. Ps. —the realization that the att starting point is good eas clothes. Clothes that reflect person- cS ality and character must be rs made for you alone. ED. V. PRICE & CO. are the personal tailors for vastly more men in America than any other tailoring Te establishment—Why? yo It can’t possibly mean less than superior tailoring ability— more satisfactory service—better values. Get in touch with our representative in your town. If you don't know who he is, drop us a line and we will gladly tell you. We make only clothes tailored to individual measurements—no ready-made clothing 4 Rg a a ie an, Sa Rai Oa Price Building, Chicago, U.S.A. bea

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136 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Dragging toes make good brakes for this kind of conveyance. The youngsters have their fun, but it scrapes, scratches and scuffs the shoes in a way that is a despair to every mother who doesn’t know BM BYS ET-o| FOR \LL BLACK HOE 99 She merely covers the shoes with Jet-Oil after the boys are in bed, and when they get up in the morning their shoes are bright and shiny and ready tor another day. Jet-Oil is a liquid wax polish that preserves the leather. No paste is required —you put it on and allow it to dry. A “new shoe” shine results. Should you require a “bootblack” shine, polish with a sott cloth or brush. ] ~ Sold by grocers, notion stores, five- ten-fifteen-cent stores, druggists I+ OC en-fifteen-cent store gists, shoe C stores and repair shops. SHU WITE | | —s SnHnoe wH Te pee) A CLEANER AND WHITENER A) (cd FOR WHITE CANVAS,BUCK cia me AND SUEDE SHOES. WILL aaa NOT RUB OFF. IS ¢ ISMBixby& ‘NEW YORK“ Co.M frs.|; PUTTEES. A LIQUIO PO U.S.A. | March 15,1919 imner JEF OIL wer 3 FluIDOZ Llou mail x = BLACK LEATHER SMBIXB NET > rium ounces i OR ALL BLACK SHOES | seas “re, — S24] DOUBLE A BROWN FOR DARK TAN SHOES AND PUTTEES.A LIQUID POLISH “Double A’Brown ran eg he af Ss

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— (Continued from Page 134) revised in different districts—always with an upward tendency—with a view to estab- lishing a national system of rates which will insure that men doing the same work in different parts of the country get a wage which, taking into account the variations in the cost of living in different districts, represents the same value. At the same time the joint action of employers and men has proved singularly effective in bringing pressure to bear on any employers or operatives who had thoughts of staying outside the scheme for their own advantage. A case occurred in the early days of the painters’ and decorators’ joint council, in which certain employees were called out on strike by their trades union because their employer had stood out of the employers’ organization. After contesting the matter for a month he swung perma- nently into line. In other industries work at least as use- ful has been accomplished. The building- trades industrial council has opened a special employment exchange in London, managed by a joint committee. The chemical industrial council appoints each month a mobile conciliation committee, consisting of six of its own members, who undertake to be ready to go at a moment’s notice to any part of the country to advise on the settlement of a dispute. The joint council for the china-clay industry is oc- cupying itself with questions of educa- tion, research and statistics, and the health and welfare of the workers. The furniture- trade council has a committee for rationing raw material for the industry. Inthe woolen worsted trade a council following substan- tially, though not identically, the lines of the Whitley Council has been formed to regulate the trade during the transition after-war period, from the rationing of the raw material to the distribution of the finished product. In the shipyards the joint council has concerned itself particu- larly with the reduction of lost time and hindrances to output generally. Let us look into the workings of one or two of these councils—the well-known industrial council for the building indus- try—the Building Trades Parliament, as many call it—and the national council of the pottery industry. The story of the Building Trades Parlia- ment can best be told in the words of one of its organizers and leaders: ‘““As a manager and director in several enterprises I have touched the industrial problem first hand. I became involved, much against my will, in the London build- ing troubles of 1914. On the heels of the strike came the war, which was a wonderful demonstration of the whole people’s unity. This gave me a lead. I began to realize that the old industrial idea of coercion, antagonism and resistance ignored some of the most powerful forces that actuated men. Thinking workmen said that the normal condition of industry is one of sup- pressed war. One employers’ association issued a public statement « calling for defense against labor aggression.’ Friendly Cooperation “What is the result of such a condition? Two groups meet as hostile bodies, a tug of war follows, and instead of constructive work we have sterile controversy and waste. Now industry needs no truce but courage to take forward steps, supported by the constructive genius of both sides in common council. I felt that labor should take the first step. “Being no longer an employer at the time, I wrote to the organization of carpen- ters and joiners, my former antagonists, suggesting that they invite the employers’ federation to join with them in setting up an industrial parliament, representing management and labor in equal numbers. My idea was not to supersede any existing association or; to provide a new means to settle disputes. I wished to see all the parties mobilize for genuine service to the industry. “Our wage schedule throughout the country, in over one hundred towns in England and Wales alone, was in a state of chaos, giving no end of trouble. By stand- ardizing this schedule we should do away with a large part of the friction and with un- fair competition. Prevailing methods caused needless unemployment, and codperation would help reduce this evil. By common effort we could provide for the employ- ment of partially disabled soldiers, which is an obligation on every industry, but there THE SATURDAY are difficulties connected with it which can best be settled in conference. ‘There were questions as to the employ- ment of women, trade training, overtime pay, traveling and lodging allowances, and discharge—all of which are matters best dis- posed of through a conference board which after discussion would work for standard- ized practice. “Well, the upshot of it all was a unani- mous agreement to start this work, and the parliament came into existence last August. In its membership are thirty-two employers, sixty-six building-trades subcontractors, and sixty-six delegates from the operatives’ trade organizations. Here we have a new line for industry, representing true British tradition of justice and self-government as + ae to industrial relations. The spec- tacle of organized management and man power uniting their e 7 rgies on a program of reconstruction and advance is unique, The building industry is one of the largest and most important of the staple trades. It is time that barriers which have he ld it back give way to a real team spirit.’ Constitutions make dry reading, but in view of the foregoing statement I can ven ture a few lines from the book of rules adopted by the parliament of the building trades: NAME The name shall be The Industrial Coun- cil for the Building Industry [Building Trades Parliament], hereinafter referred to as the Council. OBJECTS The Council is established to secure the largest possible measure of joint action between employers and workpeople for the development of the industry as a part of na- tional life, and for the improvement of the conditions of all engaged in that industry Activities of the Council It will be open to the Council to take any action that falls within the scope of this general definition. More specific objects will follow: To recommend means for securing that industrial conditions affecting em ployers and operatives, or the relation between them, shall be systematically ré viewed by those concerned, with a view to their improvement 2. To consider, discuss and formulate opinion upon any proposals which proffer, to those engaged in the industry, the means of attaining improved conditions and a higher standard of life, and involve the enlistment of their active and continuous coéperation in the development of the industry, and to make recommendations thereon, including such questions as measures for Regularizing production and employ ment. The provision of a graduated scale of minimum rates designed to maintain real wages as nearly as possible on a level , throughout the country. Minimizing the fluctuations of trade by intelligent anticipation and the augmenta tion of demand in slack periods. Scientific management and reduction of costs. Welfare methods. Closer association between commercial and wsthetic requirements. The inclusion of all employers and work- pe ople i in their respective associations. The revision and improvement of exist ing machinery for the settlement of dif ferences between different sections of the industry, or for the provision of such mac hinery where nonexistent, with the ob ject of securing the speedy settlement of difficulties. The better utilization of the practical knowledge and experience of those engaged in the industry. Securing to the workpeople a greater share in and responsibility for the deter mination and observance of the conditions under which their work is carried on. The settlement of the general principles governing the conditions of employment, including the methods of fixing, paying and readjusting wages, having regard to the need for securing to all engaged in the in- dustry a share in the increased prosperity of the industry. Insuring to the workpeople the greatest possible security of earnings and employ- ment. Dealing with the many difficulties which arise with regard to the method and amount of payment apart from the fixing of general standard rates. EVENING POST For Speed— The Scientifically Simple Dictaphone The Dictaphone System works so fast that it gives you 50% to 100% more letters per day. It’s the Scientifically Simple Machine. And as reliable and convenient as the telephone. You talk your letters into the mouth-piece as fast as your brain and tongue can work. Your Op- erator transcribes your dictation directly on her typewriter. No lost motion anywhere. 15-Minute Demonstration Get to know this Scientifically Simple and Always Dependable Machine. At your re- quest, our man will call with a machine and in fifteen minutes give you an interesting and convincing demonstration in your office, on your work. Write or phone the branch office nearest to you. ao" 113C, Woolworth Building, New York City Branches Everywhere Write for booklet, ‘‘The Man at the Desk’ There is but one Dictaphone, trade- + ay ol ‘The a. Se made and nesthentinadlte the Col P Comp '

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You'll have a rich, brilliant finish that will give you lasting satisfaction Go to your regular dealer If he cannot supply you, send $1.50 (Canadian Imperial Quart $1.75) for 1 quart of Auto Finish Black t THE GLIDDEN COMPANY, 1503 Berea Rd., Cleveland, Ohio. Canadian Address, Toronto, Ontario Send at once for our Dealer Proposition AUTO HES Note to Dealer EVENING POST 3. To collect and circulate statistics and information on matters appertaining to the wa 4 To promote research and the study an improvement of processes, design, and standards and methods of workmanship, with a view of perfecting the products of the industry. To provide facilities for the full con- sideration and utilization of inventions and improvements in machinery or methods, and for adequately safeguarding the rights of the designers or inventors thereof; and to secure that the benefits, financial or otherwise, arising therefrom, shall be equitably apportioned among the designers or inventors, the proprietors or lessees, and the operators thereof. 3. The supervision of entry into and training for, the industry and coéperation with the educational authorities in arrang- ing education in all its branches for the meee. The issue to the press of authoritative statements upon matters affecting the industry of general interest to the com- munity. 8. Representation of the needs and opinions of the industry to government departments and local authorities. The consideration of any —_~ mat- ters that may be referred to it by the government or any government depart- ment. 10. Coéperation with the Joint Industrial Councils of other industries to deal with problems of common interest. To provide, as far as practicable, that important proposals affecting the industry shall be fully ventilated and dis- cussed through the medium of committees of inquiry, joint district boards, works committees, the trade papers, and the general press; in order that the opinion of members of the industry and of the general public thereon may be accurately gauged before definite decisions are taken. Unlike the building council the furniture joint industrial council, which started in July, 1918, has on several occasions been asked to mediate or arbitrate on ques- tions in dispute between operatives and em- ployers. The council has under consideration the establishment of a national conciliation board for the trade, which, when the dis- trict councils are formed, will no doubt be linked up with district conciliation boards. The council has held four meetings up to date, and has appointed an executive com- mittee, a resettlement committee, a com- mittee on conciliation machinery and an education committee. Bettering the Potter's Lot A subcommittee, consisting of the two chairmen, has been appointed to organize district councils in the different localities including Ireland, with a view to getting the Irish employers and men to codperate in the work of the national council. When all the district councils are set up it is proposed to reconstitute the national council on a territorial basis. The national council of the pottery in- dustry is now an established institution, and is another illustration of good sense at work on the problem of promoting team spirit in industry. As in the case of the building trades the suggestion of the coun- cil first came from the employees. This council is designed to regulate wages and selling prices, to promote training for the industry, to improve health and other con- ditions, ware mer age improved meth- ods of product The pottery industry before the war was in an unsatisfactory condition. Its re- turns pleased neither manufacturer nor worker. The usual ill feeling prevailed. Earnings were low and irregular. Bad sani- tary conditions were common, with potter’s asthma and lead poisoning ever-present dangers. There was too much driving, and it was bitterly resented. From the manu- facturer’s side there was much to complain of. Profits were small in comparison with other industries. With fifty-eight processes there was difficulty in organizing work on a proper basis. Unrestricted competition, price cutting and wage cutting kept the industry on a low level. Common rules to correct these conditions were a clear neces- sity, and to this task the council has been giving its attention for over a year. The problems with which the pottery council deals are undoubtedly the most important problems before the industry. March 15,1919 The first is that of wages. Wage rates in the pottery trade are in a chaotic condition, and neither unions nor employers’ associa- tions have even the materials for the estab- lishment of anything like uniform rates for similar work throughout the industry. A statistics subcommittee has begun an in- vestigation into the actual rates and con- ditions of work in each of the sections of the industry, and the result of this will show how far a systematic list is practicable, and what form it should take. Aiong with this investigation the same committee has been authorized to ask manufacturers’ as- sociations to supply it with certain returns as to average profits on turnover with a view to finding out what are the normal earnings of capital in the industry. The wage-and-conditions subcommittee has drafted a scheme of works committee. The research subcommittee is in touch with the national Department of Scientific Research to secure the recognition of the council’s claim to representation on the governing body of any research association that may be established. Meanwhile the committee is looking into conditions as re- gards healih, and so on, in the workshop, its chairman being the managing director of one of the most up-to-date firms in in- dustry. Another committee is working with the Design and Industries Association, which has held successful meetings in the district; the wages-and-conditions com- mittee is also overhauling the methods of apprenticeship, which, like the wage sys- tem, have never been systematized. Official Shop Stewards Though all this activity cannot bear fruit for some time the other phase of the council’s work—namely, the representation of the needs of the industry to the gov- ernment—has already proved important. Thus, the council took steps at the second meeting to bring the needs of the industry before the Controller of Shipping. A del- egation waited on the Minister of Re construction to call his attention to the difficulty with which the china branch had been faced by the cutting off of supplies of South American bone, and secured addi- tional supplies from home resources. Another type of work is represented by the action of the council with regard to dis- abled sailors and soldiers and the problems of demobilization. A _ joint ee which existed before the council was formed, to advise the local military-service tribunal on the selection of men for retention in the industry, has become a committee charged with the questions regarding demobiliza- tion. This committee is preparing a re port on the openings for disabled sailors and soldiers in the industry, and on the training required. Unquestionably the council has been successful in promoting what was after all its principal object—namely, the improve- ment of relations between employers and employed. This was shown at the end of last March, when the general demand for a greater increase in wages than had ever been made was negotiated successfully without serious ill feeling on either side, and without calling in the assistance of an outside arbitrator, as has usually been nec- essary in the past. As big a feature of the joint-government movement in British industry as the coun- cils are the works committees. Such com- mittees are by no means new. They had been in operation for years before the war. But in certain industries, notably in the metal trades, the war conditions stimulated their growth to such an extent, and worked such changes in their form and activities, that works committees to-day are in many places a characteristic result of wartime interest in better industrial relations. The causes that promoted the growth of a new type of works committee during the war are various, but they may be roughly traced first to the shop stewards, then to the dilution of the working force by a large number of unskilled workers, methods of pay, absenteeism, safeguards against over- strain, and a genera! sentiment looking toa close knitting up of the personnel. Most trade unions have official shop stewards, known by various names as shop delegates, works representatives, yard- committee men, and the like. Their duties are well known, consisting of such matters as looking after the maintenance of the agreement in force, collection of union dues, and settlement of grievances. But one effect of the war has been to enhance (Centinued on Page 141)

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HATEVER your busi- ness may be, run your finger down the col- umns in this panel. You will find your business listed there; and with it the number of men in it who are moving to larger success with the help of the Alexander Hamilton Insti- tute’s Modern Business Course and Service. If you feel that your business is different, that what may help others cannot help you, see how many men in your own business are already subscribers to this Course. They have realized that the fundamentals underlying all businesses are the same. They want to know these principles— and how to apply them. Some of the men whom you have envied are there. Some of the men of whom you have said: ‘**T know as much about our work as he; why is he lifted into an executive position while I stay here?”’ And this is the answer: Executive responsibility de- mands more than knowledge of one department of business; it requires the all-round knowledge of all departments, which is so rare that the men who have it are always in demand. What department of the business are you in? SOR ten years the Alexander Hamilton Institute has spe- cialized in just one thing. It has only one Course. Its business is to train men forthe higher executive positions in business. It takes the man who knows one department — whatever it may be, and adds a knowledge of organization and sales, of merchandising, of credits, of corporation finance, of advertising, of in- vestment, of accounting, of traffic and of costs; it puts at his disposal training and THE SATURDAY EVENING POST How many men in your line of business are represented in this list? 139 Over 78,000 men classified by industries, who are using the Modern Business Course and Service Manufacturing 2,023 Automobile and Vehicle Manufacturers 586 Bakers and Confectioners 705 Boots and Shoes 436 Brewery, Liquor Dealers and Distillers 1,435 Building Materials 1,464 Clothing and Other Wearing Apparel 760 Dairy Products 520 Foundries 1,786 Drugs, Chemicals and Toilet Preparations 2,851 Electric and Lighting Appli ances and Supplies 762 Farm Implements and Supplies 838 Furniture and other Household Goods 555 Glassware 496 Millers and Grain Dealers 975 Hardware 772 Heating Appliances and Plumbers’ Supplies ,728 Iron, Steel and Wire 309 Jewelry 345 Leather ,261 Lumber 028 Machinery 742 Metals 421 Music and Musical In ments 215 Oil 864 Optic al Goods and Photo Supplies 673 Paint 834 Paper 252 Pottery 901 Powder 571 Printers and Stationers 891 Publishing and Periodicals 441 Railroad Equipment 346 Refrigerating and Ice Com panies 1,236 Rubber 347 Smelters and Refiners 345 Sugar 1,071 Textiles 522 Tobacco 37,958 Public Service 699 Electric Railroad 646 Express, Forwarding and Transportation Companies 994 Gas Companies ,656 Steam Railroads 451 Steamship Companies ,651 Office Devices and Supplies ,864 Power and Light Companies Public Service (con.) 1,574 Telephone and Te legr aph Companies 346 Water Companies 5,230 Financial 3,129 Banks 354 Insurance— Fire 915 Insurance — Life 694 Insurance—Others 1,168 Stocks and Bonds 946 Trust Companie ; 7,206 Trading 666 Advertising Agen 1,303 Automobile and Supplies Dx alers 706 Builders and Contractors 684 Commission Merchants 1,473 Department and General Store and Mail Order Houses $77 Dry Goods and Notions 1,171 Groceries and other Food Stuffs 418 Insurance Brokers 729 Packers and Canners 349 Produce Brokers 1,354 Real Estate Companies and Brokers 9,430 Mining 876 Coal 1,008 Copper 1,099 Other Mining 2,983 Professions 301 Architecture 975 Education 1,356 Engineering 557 Law 507 Medicine, Surgery, Dent 829 Public Accountancy 4,525 Miscellaneous 178 Amusements $51 Commercial Organizations 406 Karming 2,218 Government, State and City Officials and Employees 334 Hotels, Restaurants, Clubs, « 414 Students and Educational Organization Employees 4,006 Men in other Business tivities 8,007 Total to date 78,339 Business and educational au- thority of the highest standing is represented in the Advisory Council of the Alexander Ham- ilton Institute. Advisory Council HIS Advisory Council con- sists of Frank A. Vanderlip, President of the National City Bank of New York; General Coleman duPont,the well-known business executive; John Hays | Hammond, the eminent engi- | neer; Jeremiah W. Jenks, the statistician and economist; and Joseph French Johnson, Dean of the New York University School of Commerce. “Forging Ahead in Business’’ —a book for men of action HE Alexander Hamilton Institute does not seek drifters as its subscrib ers. It will not knowingly enrol a man who has not in him the capacity for prog- ress. Its successful subscribers are ‘the foundation of its preéminence To sift out of the many who are merely curious, the few who have the capacity for success, the Institute has prepared a 112-page book entitled ** Forging Ahead in Business.’’ It has proved immensely valuable to over 75,000 men; it contains information of value to any man who is earnestly asking himself: “"Where wiil | be ten years from now ?’’ If you are such a man; if you have in you the serious purpose to put yourself among the successful executives of busi ness, there is a copy of “Forging Ahead in Business’’ free for you Only you can decide the question. “The coupon gives you the opportunity; send for ‘‘Forging Ahead in Business’? now experience that would otherwise take years to acquire. The test : — Your ability to act This is a tragic fact about life —that most men have good resolutions, but only a few have the capacity to act. Of all the men who have read the ad- vertisements of the Alexander Hamilton Institute, and have intended to enrol, over 75,000 have acted by enrolling. Today, the opportunity is open to you to act. Of any two men who will read these words, one will act, the other will delay. And in that moment each man will — unconsciously — have passed judgment on himself. Alexander Hamilton Institute 49 Astor Place New York City meee ae ee eee ee ee” \ y Send me “ Forging Ahead in Bu FREI LT& Name Busines Ad Business Position

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140 R. J. Reynolds Tobacco Company wi rat Ss err N * CRIMP CUT LONG BURNING PIPE TOBACCO (6 es eet a a THE SATURDAY EVENING POST DRINGE ALBERT the national joy smoke HEN you nail the grand idea that it’s time to hum a rea/ smoketune in your smoke-sport-section set it down in your private papers that it’s the purr-of- Prince Albert sifting into your system! Then and there, you make a blurr-of-speed for a jimmy pipe, jam it joy’usly chock full of P. A. and give the signal to blaze away! Talk about being shuffled into luck! Talk about hitting the highjoy spot in a skybus! Why, you feel you must break out with “Can you beat it?’’ For, Prince Albert nestles up to your smoke apparatus mighty snug, like you’ve played pals with it for a long spell! It sets-going that comfortable feeling of smoke content! And, you realize that for the first time in your career you have hooked tobacco that’s middle name is ““made-to-make-good’’! And, that goes with any man who really wants to get al/ that’s coming his way! Prince Albert’s quality flavor and fra- grance will slip into your system quicker than any special delivery smokemessage you ever wirelessed to your tryout depart- ment! And, you’ll get the speedflash that P. A. can’t bite or parch because bite and parch are cut out by our exclusive pat- ented process. Never mind what smokefaith you were brought up in! If you don’t know Prince Albert personally you’ve certainly got a birthday present on your trail! P. A. takes such a peck-of-fret out of every twenty-four hours! March 15, 1919 ’ ( ‘ ) >

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(Continued from Page 138) the position and prestige of the shop steward. Unable to strike because of war stipulations, among which was one making the official who called it liable to prosecu- tion, the men naturally turned to their shop steward, who held a less conspicuous place. He was a free man. His power within the shop and, indeed, within the plant was as wide as he chose to make it. What the public generally fails to recognize in the position of the average union leader is the undertow always at work to weaken his usefulness. The most serious problem that leaders with organiz- ing sense have to face is a strong tendency away from central control toward a larger measure of initiative locally and within each shop. The men are impatient of de- lay; they want to dispose of their difficul- ties by short cuts. A functionary far away in London, or wherever headquarters may be, is not near enough to the scene, the men believe, to understand; and they look with suspicion on the so-called judicial attitude, the state of mind of a man who must balance one thing with another. This is a penalty always for big organization. The men have been chafing against the slowness and remoteness of it all, and the shop steward has been encouraged to take things in hand. Works committees, with shop stewards as the moving spirit, have been started all through the trades. They have attempted to regulate the flow of “‘dilutees,”’ keeping careful check on the men who have been brought in from the outside. Piecéwork rates and pressure of increased output have given these committees and managers many hours of agony. Owing to public clamor against slackness in coal mining, committees were started to watch the absentee records of the men and effect an improvement. War-work strain has made it necessary to regard the physical welfare of the workers. Long hours have been worked; night shifts have been added to day shifts; work places have been overcrowded, and such facilities as were obtained were greatly overtaxed, while the introduction of women in shops where none were previously em- ployed raised a number of new problems. No better way of handling such questions could be found than through committees of workers most directly concerned, and the result has been a multiplication of such committees, with a voice in the conditions under which they worked. Pit Committees An automobile plant located in the north of England, and employing six thousand men and about a thousand women, has a shop steward for each one of its Seaty departments, and the works committee is made up of these stewards. There are no women among them, but a woman repre- sentative is present when the management and the stewards take up any question that affects the women employees. There are many conferences between the manage- ment and the committee, but they are not regular because it has been found there is not always business to warrant it. Much is settled with the foremen and never comes before the man higher up. The foremen have learned—and they have been en- couraged to learn—how to meet with the committee and come to an understanding with it. All meetings are on the employer's time, and the management has never failed to carry out a decision agreed to in confer- ence. The blast-furnace workers in the Cleve- land and Durham districts for over a year had in hand the troublesome question of time-keeping, or attendance, which of course is at bottom a question of output. Through works committees appoirted by the men, often joined by committees from the ironmasters’ association, unsteady workers are warned, counseled or fined as the case may require. The fines collected are turned over to some local fund or charity as the men decide. Both parties to this arrangement agree that it has given satisfaction. Pit committees are found in most of the coal-mining districts. Not all have proved successful, but where they have worked they have justified their existence. They are “responsible for dealing with questions of workmen losing work or failing to do their best.”’ Here is what a workman, a practical miner, has to say on this subject: ““We have found out that output, which the Coal Controller has been urging on us, THE SATURDAY is not alone cut down by absence from work; faulty management has something to do with it. Miners have to wait for timber; there are all sorts of hardships in getting to our work and back home. We have to wait for tubs, which are few and scarce and not passed round evenly. The com- mittee can fine the men, but not the man- | agement where it falls short. But where management has played fair the output of coal and the wages of the men have in- | | creased, “We do not have any way of getting the foreman to improve his methods, and this spoils much of the good that might be done. He does not pay for dead work, such as emptying dirt or packing it; he should pay for so many tubs. He measures ripping by going to the narrowest instead of the wid- | est part of the level; this may mean to the | man a difference of five shillings on that | piece of work. Wagons are not sent round the [mines according to any fair system.” Decreased Friction “One large colliery has a canteen, and the committee has given help to manage it. Many men are called on to work overtime, and if they cannot get food they cannot be efficient. This colliery with the canteen sells a good meal and hot drinks at cost prices. I know when the winter time comes on and the output of coal depends on the surface workers sticking to their work this colliery has rest periods and hot drinks are passed out. Elsewhere the men have to knock off on account of the weather.” Among the results of placing a larger responsibility for conditions on the men, or on their chosen representatives, has been a marked decrease in those little frictions of the shop which waste the time of busy managers and take longer to settle than really important questions of policy. The experience of firms that have not elested to put into practice their belief in the capacity of the rank and file to deal with matters that had hitherto been entirely in the hands of management shows that a new confidence develops and that new ways suggest themselves for checking controver- sies before they reach a serious stage. Ideas are not lacking if the right atmosphere prevails, and these ideas make for order and advance. The fact that so-called sug- gestion or complaint boxes so generally fail in getting for the management a true pic- ture of what the men have in mind proves that something is wanting, and that want is not in the men. Employees who are told that they are paid to work and not to think are turned from assets to liabilities. Works committees and, in fact, all sorts of other committees which give the men encourage- ment to use their heads, have succeeded in clearing away countless little obstructions and misunderstandings which in the aggre- gate have the result of putting up a wall between those who, to do their work as it should be done, need above everything contact and frank speech. I wengoenen in the yard of a well-known engine factory in the north of England when one workman was explaining to an other, a newcomer, something about the conditions of that plant. “This shop,”’ he said, “always has one foot in the street. Three of the men who went to the boss with a kick got the sack. So we don’t believe in working between meals. We want forty-four hours, but if we hold on we will do better than that be- cause our delegate says he knows a way to get forty hours.” Three miles away from this place is a factory which takes pride in the fact that it has never had a walkout or a strike dur- ing the war. On the wall in the office of the general manager is a large framed chart showing a fairly considerable committee system. All the committees head up in a shop-steward works committee. The man- agement and the committee keep minutes of all the meetings. Conferences are sys- tematized and treated as a serious part of the executive program. With a reduction of war orders the new plants built for that special purpose are shutting down. The works committee has been handling, in collaboration with the general manager, the problem of discharge of the new workers, especially the young women who were engaged for the period of the war. I was present when three hundred girls were being paid off, with a two weeks’ extra wage, and they were coursing through the shops making their farewells, the fore- men shouting their good wishes to them at the gates. EVENING POST i fi Le ee ea Smartest of the new-model cars have tatlored tops of Neverleek Material Since-the-war motor car styles are showing big advances in artistic design- ing. Body-building is more than ever an art. The new models show cleaner, smarter lines—they have a stripped-for- action trimness about them. a Rk MI auaiiis, nihetiees As artistic body effects assume greater im- portance, Neverleek Top Material is more and more appreciated by the designers of good cars. It fits into the cleverest effects, adding richness and lustre. It tailors splendidly. It has the sub- stance to keep graceful lines. More than fifty ee i a sat TE al manufacturers of high-grade cars have selected 4 5 Neverleek Top Material for their new models d adding to the undisputed leadership this material : has enjoyed for years. e T . . . - a Neverleek is made in several grains and fin- a ishes and is thoroughly guaranteed. Samples on request. If your present car needs a new top covering, specify Neverleek. It will add beauty, service and value, whether you keep your car or sell it. Good top-makers everywhere use Neverleck. ~ y TY ry f 6F.L US. CARR COMPAN) 31 Beach St., Boston 969 Woodward Ave., Detroit } oe his fps: tmarh (Reg. U.S. Pat. Off.) appears ard of NEVERLEEK lining TE

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UGLAS PERSONAL WAYS AMPED PRICE 1S W.1 NE SHOES APE Ai ° ° “THE SHOE THAT HOLDS ITS $4.00 $4.5' iv you have fine shoes style, comfort and service W. L. and $8.00 shoes are equally as give excellent satisfaction. The before W. L. stamped on the bottom. worth the price paid for them. where. ) $500 $600 $700 & $B.00 been paying $10.00 to $1 a trial will convince you that for actual value is determined’ and the retail price fixed at the factory Douglas name and the retail price is | \g@ Ihe stamped price is W. Douglas personal guarantee that the shoes are always The retail prices are the same every- They cost no more in San F THE SATURDAY = . ” GUARANTEE 7 44 fa | ; 40 X6z | WORTH THE PRICE PAID SHAPE” 2.00 for Douglas $7.00 good and will BOYS’ | 7 SHOES ~» Best in the World $3 $3.50 $4 kL © rancisco than they do in New York. Stamping the price on every pair of shoes as a protection against high prices and unreasonable profits is only one example of the cunstant en- deavor of W. L. Douglas to protect his customers. The quality of W. L. Douglas product is guaranteed by more than 40 years experience in making fine shoes. centres of America. The smart styles are the leaders in the fashion They are made in a well-equipped factory at Brockton, Mass., by the highest paid, skilled shoemakers under the direction and supervision of experienced men, all working with an honest determination to make the best shoes for the price that money can buy. CAUTION—Before you buy be sure W. L. Douglas name and the retail price is stamped on the bottom and the inside top facing. If the stamped price has been mutilated, BEWARE OF FRAUD. For enle by 106 W.L. D ’ sator ver * 9000 W.L. Douglas dea ‘ om be i 1 m Inct y by mail, P Post areest forl trated Cataloxu showing howt rl ~ mail Chim ee ee CUT ME OUT: ' ' ' ' and mail me, with your name and ‘ address, to The Curtis Publishing ; Company, 918 Independence Square, ' Philadelphia, Pa, I will bring you full ‘ details about how you can make $5 or ; ' ' ! ' ! ' ' ' $10 a week extra in your spare time! Name Address For Painting Truc cks, W agons, and Farm Implements, ’ wall THE BILLINGS-CHAPIN CO. Boston Cleveland New York OU can get 4 LLM BROCKTON - - MASS President W.L. DOUGLAS Ln, 8HOE COMPANY VtL 155 SPARK STREET aes od ins Rider Agents Wanted ywhere to ride and exhibit Gian, v Ranger “Motorbike” com ~ | y equipped with electric light nd horn, carrier, stand, tool tank, ter brake mu guarde and kid tires Choice of 44 other ore and sizes in oe fa styles, « rt) DELIVERED FREE ox mn approval \ und 30 DAYS’ TRIAL. Send for big ¥\ free catalog and particulars of our \ t irect-to-Rider marvelous \ terms } TIRES «, Horns, Wheels, un Ari and parte tor alf usual prices Y SEND. NO MONEY, but tell us yu me Do not buy until you termeand the big F REE catalog ay CYCLE COMPANY Dept. L-55, CHICAGO WAKE UP every m rm ng with your tr fre and MEAL ‘ ; tion, ude of r ‘ if pad it wv \ gift a willapy 125 Se Splendid Of eaters The Ford Antenstie Mig. Co. 140 West Kinzie St., Chicago interest and ee safety for your savings by forwarding your funds by MAIL to this institution which has been conducting a conservative Savings Bank business for 50 years. No matter where you live, write for our free booklet “M.” CLEVELAND Onto. ets OvEeR ee CAPITAL & SURPLUS $8,000,000.00 MILLION DOLLARS. EVENING POST In the words of a man who has watched the activities of the works committees and knows the manufacturers of England and Scotland: “Wherever these works committees have been a success you will find the consensus of opinion is—as many a manufacturer has put it—that they have been ‘the best thing that has ever happened to the place.’” Such an opinion could not be so general if experience had not demonstrated the value of the works-committee plan or shown that it was something more than a piece of machinery and different from the old instruments for conciliation. Getting down to rock bottom, works committees mean discussion; and discussion takes time, as everybody knows. This is the theoretical objection, which now and again is thrown up. rm you have only to total the minutes and the hours that are wasted by the management in plants that have no such committees or, if they have, never put in enough thought to vitalize them and make them count for something, to dis- cover that the greater waste is under the old system. And there is this in addition: Whatever is settled through conference be- tween management and committee has a chance of staying settled, of leading tosome- thing reasonably permanent. And this is what the Whitley people had in mind. Whatever the scheme adopted, the es- sential thing is that somewhere in it a joint purpose shall be at work. Unless there be an honest intention of cojperation between the parties to the industrial bargain it would be far better to let the laissez-faire method run its course. The Whitley scheme is not a cast-iron scheme; it is firm oa in its well-founded conviction that the h indling of the problem of industrial rela- tions is serious. No rigid program will work or be of use in all industries; indeed, it may be useless even in one if it be inflex- ible. There is nothing to be gained by minimizing the. difficulties, and some of these difficulties are important. Be they what they may there is no excuse for in- action. The cause is big enough to call for willingness to take new ways to meet old issues. In any event the codpe rating spirit is not the worst guide for industry to use. Too Early for Big Results As has been said, the Whitley scheme, considered in the large, has as yet hardly stood a serious test. Two or three of the general councils are doing about as well as any industrial experiment thus far at- tempted. No one who has watched their operation can question that they are well worth while, and deserve encouragement. Both sides to the undertaking speak well of it, and wish to see at least five years’ trial before passing any final opinion. Real ex- periments along the line of industrial team play are so few and far between that one feels a peculiar sympathy with the Whitley developments; and all the more because the underlying idea is to build up on what already exists instead of taking out all the complicated and delicate works of the in- dustrial machine, with the hope of making a fresh start. Though, as stated above, more than twenty councils are already in being there will soon be thirty and over. Most of them have been formed in the past few months, during a period which cannot be said to represent normal conditions. There- fore few of the councils can be expected to be in full running order. In the main, ap- proved by public opinion, at least by that portion of it which takes any interest in labor problems or is alive to the fact that these problems overshadow every other in importance, the Whitley, and indeed every other approach to a solution of the question of industrial relations, has its opposition. In the eyes of the industrial revolutionary the salient defect of the trade parliament and council is that they again stereotype the old relationship between employer and employed, and it is precisely that relation- ship which industrial revolution is out to abolish. But in point of fact the Whitley councils do not necessarily assume any such going back to pre-war relationship. That they militate against overnight industrial upheaval is true. That they point the way of reason and mutual understanding as op- posed to violence and destruction is also obvious. But they by no means work against industrial evolution. On the con- trary, they open up one of the very few hopeful ways thus far proposed—ways which commend themselves to thinking men in all groups concerned—for the next March 15,1919 step to be taken. If larger share in man- agement is gradually to pass into the hands of the managed by far the best way for it to come about will be an orderly transference of responsibility through such joint coun- cils and committees as are set up under the Whitley scheme. But in any case the time for that trans- ference is not yet. Nobody with whom I have talked—and I have the views of men who have given years to the advancing of labor interests—wishes to see any whole- sale or precipitate action. As they see it, any forward step taken must offer reason- able assurance of success, and not result through unforeseen disaster in setting back the progress the workers have already made. A Game of High Stakes They believe that no experiment, however roseate its setting and its promises, is suf- ficiently valuable to justify a jeopardizing of labor’s gains and position. More than other men these experienced leaders in trade organization, trusted by the masses whom they represent, know the cost of every forward step and what the price has been to bring about such advance as has been made. Responsibility has made them circumspect. The stake they hold is far too precious for any tampering by untried hands. These views, needless tosay, though quite representative not only of the spokes- men but also of the large mass of British workers, are not shared by an energetic ele- ment who, though in the minority, are yet influential out of all proportion to our members. Here is the real trouble: So far as actual experiments in an entirely new order of in- dustrial control go, practically no progress has been made. The idea of the union it- self, or of a group of workers collectively, undertaking definite contracts has been seriously mooted, and it is an idea full of interesting possibilities. Given an adequate technical organization there would seem to be no reason why a body of men could not in combination act in a given contract very much as a private contractor does. This combine, group or union would undertake for a given sum to deliver a given output or complete a certain piece of work, handling all those matters which fall under the gen- eral head of employment and shop man- agement, The only concrete instance of importance in which the e xperiment has been tried in England was the erection of the London headquarters of the Theosophical Society a short time before the war. At the moment when the work was to be started a serious building strike was on in London, and the building committee of the society, sympa- thetic with the men and at the same time anxious to get their building erected, nego- tiated a contract directly with the men’s union. Though the experiment met with an ini- tial success it was not possible to give it a fair test because war broke out before the work got far. Ordinary building operations came to a standstill through government order, and this particular structure was taken over in an unfinished condition by a government department to be completed and used for official purposes. Altogether the actual advance toward an increased share in the control of the job is slow and fitful. Here and there beginnings have been made in distributing the load of management and supervision, as in the case of the miners who during the war made themselves responsible for reducing lost time in the pits. There were the other iso- lated but unimportant innovations, from which no particular moral can be drawn. Nevertheless, there can be no doubt that we are on the eve of developments in the direction of increased coéperation in con- trol. If coming events have in this case cast singularly few shadows before them we do have before us a certain amount of instructive war experience with the scheme of the Whitley councils and the works com- mittees. We may be certain that the principle of teamwork in management, whatever the language in which it finds expression, is not a passing thing or a fantastic dream of the visionary. It is a principle which has taken hold of men, which invites the best brains for its incorporation into the fabrie of manage- ment, and which if sanely and sincerely made the basis of relations between em- ployer and employee holds out the biggest hope Se industry. a

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Return This for Further Information

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST

‘i “88: See x <f a aS PNOWVCR a)

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144 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST March 15,1919 - ~ } a HM z vy i nt " \ AAT bs Miitiil s UNMET LE & —s & itl WH } , ‘ s ry i i ¥ | : 7" Hi)! | | E kid ” a tity —_t 3 q ; Y . be — { vig ee i ino ee. - BER Eres: ae at i=. ma : acon St. & Commonwealth Ave. Street BALTIMORE BOSTON = 1026 Auantic Avenue BROOKLYN Autocar A Permanent Service Organization The business house that owns an Autocar Motor Truck has at its disposal all of the fa- cilities of the Autocar service organization. There is a factory branch owned and operated by The Autocar Company in the principal cities of the country, and from these branches spread out sub-branches and dealers. Each Autocar service plant always main- tains a complete stock of spare parts and a competent service force. Such a complete and permanent service policy is possible because the Autocar is manufactured entirely by The Autocar Company—the responsibility for the con- tinuous and efficient operation of an Autocar is undivided. THE AUTOCAR COMPANY Ardmore, Pa. Established 1897 91)-925 W. Jackson Boulevard CHICAGO ice Street: PROVIDENCE

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BRAND Califa a ’ Di eA vital food = not merely a dessert Delicious in any form—always tempting walnuts are much more than a mere appetizing embellishment to the meal. They are a highly concentrated food—rich in the principal “ele ’ ments of nutrition— posse ssing important heat rw flour, 41 and energy producing qualities—and offering the fugar,# tablespoon widest variety of attractive menu possibilities. * — ‘ . iy Thi DoT We V P) OU 1. 4 hood Serve walnuts often. Serve them all the year ss bake io muf round. Serve them inavariety of ways—for their great nutritive value as wellas for flavor. Always be sure to get highest walnut quality by ask | ing your dealer for Diamond Brand California Walnuts —the brand that guarantees you the oa? Wary U - . Sal : 8 rick of California’s choicest crop. | "DIAMOND BRAND CALI ee WALNUT GROWERS ASSOCIATION "OWE % a my RNIA Oe EE TT A A

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You may not want, you may not need, a regular mountain of lather. But you can get it if you like with Williams’. You never get a thin lather, a stringy lather, or one that dries on your face. It’s always billowy, creamy, soft and soothing, and it lasts until the razor gets all the way round. For 78 years Lather ?— Rather/ Williams’ has been making shaving a daily pleasure instead of an every- other-day ordeal. And the holder-top is an added con- venience which you will appreci- ate the longer you use it. Take home a stick tonight and you'll be glad to- morrow morning. Send 20¢ in stamps for trial sizes of the four forms shown here Chen decide which you prefer, Or send 6c in stamps for any one. THE J. B. WILLIAMS GOMPANY, Dept. A, Glastonbury, Conn. After the shave or the bath you will enjoy the comforting touch of Williams’ Tale Powder. Send 4c fora trial size of the perfume you prefer—Violet, Carnation, English Lilac or Rose,