The Saturday Evening Post 1920-08-07: Vol 193 Iss 6

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST a * ” “1 De | ; 2 A PASTEL By NE A MOMEIN LAST DAYS AND DEATH OF THE RUSSIA EMPEROR TOLD IN OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS

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THE NASH PERFECTED VALVE-IN-HEAD MOTOR REQUENTLY, those who drive a Nash Six comment upon the excellence of the motor. Its unusual ee. power and responsiveness are im- pressively above the average. And this superiority of the Nash Perfected Valve-in-Head Motor gives to the Sedan and Coupé the same quick responsiveness that it does to the touring car, roadster, and sport model. Nash Passenger Cars: 5-Passenger Car; 4-Passenger Sport Model 2-Passenger Roadster; 7-Passenger Sedan g-Passenger Ci upe; 7 Passenger Car The Nash Motors Company, Kenosha, Wisconsin f Passenger Cars and Trucks, In luding the Famous Nash Quad facture (

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST i OCIETY BRAND CLOTHES are for young men because ae yw, their acknowledged style leadership keeps the young man SS meen conscious of his good appearance. @They are for men who eee = ) stay young because staying young consists largely in retain- SS = 4 ing the confidence and alertness of youth, even after age has swept away the young man’s self-consciousness. ALFRCOD DECKER & COHN, Mak Chicago, New York In Canad CITTY BRAND CI Society Brand Clothes FOR YOUNG MEN AND MEN WHO STAY YOUNG

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST August 7,1920 UB a cake of Ivory Soap between your wet hands, and watch the wonderful Ivory lather foam up in millions of lively bubbles. Rub the lather into your skin. Notice how grateful it feels—not a suggestion of irritation. Notice that it does not dry down nor go “ flat’’, but spreads its velvety coat over your entire body. Dash water upon it. See it vanish in- stantly. Observe the clear, satiny smooth- ness it gives to your skin, and the ex- hilarating sense of perfect cleanliness which envelops you. Do you wonder that the people who use Ivory Soap can be satisfied with no other? IVORY SOAP 99% PURE IT FLOATS

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Published Weekly The Curtis Publishing Company Cyrus H. HK. Curtis, President C. H. Ludington, Vice-President and Treesurer P. S. Collins, General Business Manager Walter D. Fuller, Secretary Williem Boyd, Advertising Director Independence Square, Philadelphia London: 6, Henriette Street Covent Garden, W. C ences Volume i193 5c THE COPY * 10c. in Canada THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Founded A’D' 1728 Sy Benj. Franklin Copyright, 1920, by the Curtis Publishing Company in the United Stetes and Great Britain PHILADELPHIA, “AUGUST 7, 1920 George Horace Lorimer EDITOR Churchill Williams, F. S. Bigelow, A.W. Neell, Arthur McNeogh. E. Dinsmore, Associate Editors Entered as Second-Class Matter, November 1S 1879, at the Post Office at Philadelphie Under the Act of March 3, 1879 Entered as Second-Cless Matter at th Post-Office Department, Ottawa, Canade $2.5 50 THE YEAR by Subscription Number 6 ~ the TEPPING to the edge of his veranda Col. Richard Peyton ¥ looked up into the« arly morn- ing through the branches of his He w very proud of those trees, for they were taller and more widespread and branchy than ae ee oe ee oe hoe ae B overarching live-oak trees. was any other live oaks in Arguello County, and that is saying a good deal. In fact, so impressive were they that the colonel had named the five or six acres they occupied Cathedral Oaks, thus placing them apart in all minds from the Rancho de la Corona del Monte, which was the colonel’s real property. Every morning thus the colonel stepped early to his veranda’s edge and looked up. And every morning something mysterious of the new day came down and met his spirit; whether it was a sound, as the low soft cooing of mourning doves; or a scent, as of something released by the dampness of fog or dew or the winter rains; or a sight, as of the slant of golden or silver light, or a solemn belated owl, or the sailing of slow clouds down the wind. These things he absorbed, and they grew into his subconsciousness and thus became part of him, so that at last he rose to a mild scorn of all who did not likewise rise betimes. “By Godfrey, Allie,’’ he would ery to his plump, bright-eyed, alert little wife, as he trode round the breakfast table to kiss her ceremonially, “I cannot understand these slug-abeds! They miss the best of the day,’ And then he would seat himself across the table and beam about. The dining room thereupon resumed its natural size, for as long as the colonel was afoot it became much smaller than even its actual and modest dimensions. The colonel was not more than six feet, and he was slender, but he had presence. Everything except the Cathedral Oal and the Sierra del Sur seemed rather undersized when he was round—and they only ju fitted. As a matter of fact, the ranch house, when analyzed right down and stripped of its vines and its coco matting and its big pink sea shells and its worderful haircloth mahogany and its doilies and stuffed birds und steel engravings and traditions, and such matters, would have turned out to be merely a rather small, one-storied, board-and- batten structure with a wide veranda running all the way round it, set comfortably amid the huge live oaks. It took a very clear-headed man to do this analysis. I know of two only, and they made their discovery with considerable surprise. But this particular morning of one spring of the eighties was an especial occasion The colonel did not, as was his usual custom, take a look at his oaks and his green half moon of lawn with its border of plumbago and geraniums and other bright flowers, perspective of his Avenue of Palms that led to the distant Camino Real, breathe deeply of the sparkling morning air, and so return to his table. On this one day were the most important matters afoot. It was Allie’s birthday, and on that anniversary the Rancho de la Corona del Monte—hereafter let us call it, like the rest of the countryside, Corona del Monte for short —turned itself inside out and had the biggest barbecue picr nic of the year. So the colonel put on his low-crowned, wide -brimme d hat ; glance down the AUTHOR’ s NoTE—The author has writter ly from t } 0 books dealing w The lionair The Bursting Van Dyke's really classic description the en followed ve from the Sanford book some of the auctioneer ha y. This has be p it and gratitude, and the author iy ‘ ‘ ecord eur By Stewart Edward White r and took his way round the corner of the house. The colonel, as has been said, was HARVEY DUNN tall and slender. Beneath his hat his clean-shaven face, with its hawk nose and kindly eyes, looked remarkably young and vigorous. Yet on closer inspection you could not have missed the network of fine quizzical lines that seamed his countenance, or the delightful winter-apple quality in the color of his lean, ruddy cheeks, or the calm, lofty, dignified set of the mouth, as in the portraits of Washington, Franklin and their compeers, which means not so much loftiness of soul as lack of teeth. No, the colonel was getting on. You never would have suspected it from the movements of his long figure in its black frock coat. The colonel never suspected it at all. No one had told him, not even life itself, He moved round to the back of the house, humming something quite tuneless under his breath. On his way he did a number of little things of which he was not fully aware. He plucked successively leaves of the bay, the camphor tree and sweet geranium, rolled them in the palms of his hands and inhaled their aroma; he took off the cover of the olla—the earthen evaporation jar hanging from a tree—and inspected its supply of cool drinking water; he pulled up a number of weeds from the brilliant flower borders and concealed them carefully beneath the shrubbery. A flaming humming bird poised, buzzing, in front of his face. He held motionless until the little creaturs had darted away. None of these things could he have re pe ited to you A modern psy¢ hologi t would have told you the y were prod icts of his subliminal. Mar uelo, ranch foreman, at present superintending the preparations for the barbecue would have shrugged his shoulders and said ‘Eet is the senor. He e« e that.’ Same ching. But near the kitchen door the colonel wakened from this sauntering, buz y,! dreaming. In the course of his progress h ibstitute of that da place f the modern ice box framework covered with lave of | ip ove wi ‘ constantly sprayed. The evaporation lowered the temperature rig t t possessed of course a door, and the colonel’s hand reached f it, as his hand } ed for the fragrant herbage or the cover of the oll And then the alarm be I his mind rang violently. The colonel withdrew |} hand I i re ! looked about him with a comically guilty air. None too svor Almost on the e back-porch screen door opened behind him ““Good morning, Sing Toy,” said the colonel ‘You wan’ blekfus?”’ demanded Sing Toy ‘Presently. Pretty soon,” said the colonel, managing j ned ( Ile not hasten his teps, vet one psychically endowed would have i ed i expression of the calm, bland, white-clad Chinaman on the doorstep was as b! still water; yet the sensitive would ed a na f Toy had a queue, as did all the China t e da ‘ ‘ in some ways as a dog’s tail. The rest of Sing Toy remaine ! ! Buddha, but the tip of his queue wriggled ever so slightl ‘ ema disapproval of all who investigated his domain overcast the da Thus roused, the colonel stepped out more briskly He issed t irge stable and their neatly whitewashed corral fences with hardly more than a glance, opened two

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big swing gates and proceeded with brisk teps be- tween a double row of Ss mall houses to- ward an other group of live oaks beyond it and atop a 4 small flat hill. But he was not to be permitted to pass un ae chee ked \ be Vy of very smail brown children swooped down on him noisily, came to a dead halt and an equally dead “Here are Matters for Your silence a few pace from Inspection, Don Ricardo" him and stared round- eyed and expectant. They were very handsome children, somewhat grimy, with sketchy garments and bare feet The colonel thrust his hands behind the tails of his frock coat and contemplated them gravely. They stared back without either embarrass- ment or impertinence ‘Buenos dias, niios,”’ observed the colonel at last. “ Ruenoa dia Dot Ricardo,” returned the little group in choru From this point you are to consider the colonel as speak- ing in the soft and beautiful language of California, with a deepening and mellowing of his natural manner. The colonel continued to survey them for some moments, his blue eyes twinkling, the fine network of line deepening. The childrer tared ba ‘I will wish you good day,” said the colonel at last, moving as though to pa The great soft Spanish eyes about him clouded with dis- may, the red full lips drooped at the corner 3, but the polite chorus came bravely bach “God be with you, se# ’ The colonel laughed aloud, thrust his hand in his coat- tail pocket and brought it forth filled with little hard pep- permint lozenges These he distributed, one to each, re- ceiving a Ssucee ion of staid “muchas grad jor.” He continued his walk ucking ecstatically at the fiery sweetmeat, fell gravely in behind. Some lank black-and-tan hound tretched at full length in the dust, rapped vigorously with thick ta thus raising a mudge; rose and shook themselve thus raising another; and trailed alot g too, Halfway up the genth pe that led to the second grove of live oaks the colonel was met by a very lean, dark, aturnine man with long drooping mustaches and deep vertical muscle lines running across his countenance. He, too, wore the low-crowned hat, with the 1ddition of a woven horsehair band As to the rest of his costume, he affected the modern rather than the traditional, though he was evidently pure Spanish. That is to say, he wore a vest but no coat, and tucked his striped trousers into soft- he gged, high heeled boot His shirt slee ves, however, were bound by very frilly pink elastic bands with huge rosettes; his waist was encircled by a leather belt studded with THE SATURDAY EVENING POST conchas of silver; at his heels clanked loose spurs of great size, inlaid with silver, jingling with little clappers at the rowels, strapped with broad carved leather, ornamented at the buttons with silver conchas fully two inches across. A picturesque enough figure to satisfy any small boy, even though he carried no tra- * ditional gun nor wore traditional chaparejos— chaps. This was Manuelo, major-domo, after the colonel the most important figure on the Corona del Monte. He swept his hat from his head, the colonel raised his. Formal and stately greetings were exchanged according to the formulas in use among the Spanish. They fell in step and continued up the hill. “All is in order, sefior?”’ the colonel asked. “All is in order, sefior,”” assured Manuelo. “It was a matter of anxiety that young Juan had not returned with the pepper sauce prom- ised us by the Dofia Paredis. There is no pep- per sauce like that of the Dofia Paredis.”’ “That is true, sefior,”” observed the colonel. “But happily he has returned at dawn. Why inquire? Here is the pepper sauce of the Dojia Paredis delivered —bright eyes or bright wine, senor; who knows?” “And to leave either at dawn,” said the colonel, ‘is both penance and testimony of a soul devoted to duty in spite of all.” “Or a late remembrance that he must meet Manuelo,” added that worthy a little grimly. ‘But here are matters for your inspection, Don Ricardo.” Beneath the wide-spreading branches of the live-oak trees had been built row after row of long board tables flanked by benc hes. These were evidently of long-past date, for their lum- ber was browned and weather-stained. But already they were partly concealed by pyramids of fruit cun- ningly heaped; by batteries of cutlery and tin plates and cups; by long loaves of bread; by tin pans full of walnuts and almonds; by bottles and glasses of condi- ments and jellies. A number of young girls and older children were darting here and there with armfuls of flow- ers which they arranged artfully still further to hide the brown planks—brodiwa, the great white Matilija poppies, Mariposa lilies, branches of mountain lilac, and above all great quantities of glowing golden-orange California pop- pies, like morsels of sunset entrapped. A very fat Cali- fornia woman sat on one of the benches and directed these activi ties. She had smooth, shining, black hair, and a smooth, shining, brown countenance and beautiful black eyes from which unexpectedly youth peered. “The tables are beautiful, sefiora,” said the colonel, “Ay de mi,” sighed the fat woman. “These children, they know not the old ar- rangements of flowers. When I was a young girl a “The caballeros gave you little time for flowers, sefiora, that I'll wager. It must be so, for never have I seen the tables bet- ter than to-day.” Sefiora Manuelo raised her fan from her lap to her face. The change was startling. The lower, grosser part of her countenance was covered. Only were visible the slum- berous, youthful eyes, the smooth brow, the shining, black, parted hair. Returned for a magic moment was all the beauty of her youth. The colonel bowed in farewell, shaking his head slightly. “No, never time for flowers, sefiora; for men are not blind.” Two of the tables at the end were coy- ered with white tablecloths and furnished out with china and glassware and silver. This was for the colonel’s personal guests as distinguished from the ranch retainers and those of his neighbors. Here two pretty girls were engaged, selecting from some washtubs of roses. They were very pretty in a soft, young, rounded fashion, with the lustrous, dreamy eyes and shining hair of their race. Not yet had they begun to ape the complexities of the American toilet. Their rather full-curved young figures were clad in plain, white-starched muslins, and their hair was parted smoothly and con- fined in the back by high, fan-shaped combs. Each had thrust one of the roses intended for the decorations over her left ear. I re- gret to say, also, that each had plastered on an inordinate quantity of white powder, August 7,1920 but that was the custom. At the colonel’s approach with Manuelo they ceased their activities and stood side by side. “The table is most beautiful,”’ said the colonel. “Si, sefior,”’ they bobbed together breathlessly. “You have plenty of roses?” “ Si, sefior.”’ “Do you enjoy yourselves at the merienda?” ” Si, sefior.”’ The colonel surveyed them quizzically. They were very correct, very respectful, very much in earnest to do the right thing before the master of the rancho. His hand sought his coat-tail pocket. “Did you ever see anything like that before?’”’ he de- manded, holding up one of his peppermint lozenges. They looked at each other, and their hands groped for each other, seeking encouragement at so embarrassing a question. “Sefiorita Ynez Calderon, and you, Sefiorita Dolores Ygnacio,”’ said the colonel—“‘you are a pair of solemn frauds. You treat me, me, as though I were the holy father and the blessed San Antonio and a total stranger all in one. And last year’’—he turned to the saturnine Manu- elo—“ last year, mind you, they stood before me barefoot in camisas only, and begged me for these!” Again he held up the peppermint. The girls dissolved toward one another in horrified protest. “Oh, sefior! Oh, Don Ricardo! Not last year! Many years ago! We are dofias grown these five years!” The colonel bore down on them, bowed low, and bending forward in his most courtly fashion stopped their protests by thrusting between their lips one apiece of the celebrated peppermints. Then he bowed again gravely and turned away, leaving them giggling, their dignity all gone. The two men now approached the heart and center of all this activity. Behind three tables of a construction more substantial than those just visited was inclosed a large open space. Here several fires were burning. Over some of these fire kettles had been suspended. Others had been built under grills or grates, and were being plied with oak and willow fuel in order to establish beds of coals. The pits had been heated, and even now contained the bull's head, the huge joints and the mutton of the main barbe- cue. All this was presided over by a very sleek, stout, good-looking Californian, who was perspiring freely even thus early and who wore a look of business, responsibility and care evidently out of his usual character. He seemed to have two official assistants— young, swarthy chaps; at least two young men of the many present seemed to be doing something. One was whetting a finishing edge to a pile of long, thin butcher knives. The other was mix- ing something in a bowl. Of the rest, a few squatted about on their heels, staring rather vacantly and in gen- eral at the preparations; a few more seemed engrossed in some sort of game about a blanket; but most were, though idle, very much in- terested in what was pass- ing—especially girls. Two of them had guitars, on which they strummed as a sort of sweet and plaintive undertone to their conversa- tion. Every few moments they, or two or three of the others, or even all the group together, would catch a few bars of the lilt and sing it forth full-voiced—a few bars only, so that it seemed al- most as though a passing breeze had lifted and let fall melody. To one side, on — “Hot Day,"’ He Announced. “‘Cunnet Go Catch Thin Coat"’

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rough trestles, rested two aromatic barrels. A single old one-eyed man sat on a camp stool by them. Two laugh- ing youths, their hands on each other’s shoulders, stood before him, “Not one drop, José, most worthy José, when we tell you that our throats are dry from the telling of your praises? And see, we have ridden across the Arroyo trail since last evening. It is a long ride, as you well know. Ours is not a case like all of these others. If Don Ricardo were to know of us he would instantly command us re- freshments,”’ “He can easily know of it. Tell him yourself. Here he comes,” growled José with considerable relish. The two youths took one glance of consternation over their shoulders, and fairly ran right and left like scattered quail, pursued by delighted laughter from all those who had heard. After a word with the grim old guardian of the wine the colonel passed to the open-air kitchen. The young men instantly rose to their feet, offered and received a stately greeting, and as instantly slid back into their strenuous occupations. ‘How is the meat, Benito?” the colonel asked the cook. “‘Does it meet with your approval? Will it be worthy of our guests and of your skill?” Benito’s smooth, brown moon face took on an expres- ion of ludicrously painful consideration. “The beef, Don Ricardo,” he replied, “‘is the best we have had since the year when the Blessed Virgin sent the October rains. Especially is that true of the roasting beef, which is, of course, as it should be. But the mutton 2 He turned half away in an eloquent movement, as though abandoning the whole question in despair. “The mutton is as good as the beef,” struck in Manuelo. “I myself gave orders for it to come from the hills on Los Quitos. I myself saw it both before and after killing. The mutton is good.”’ “Tt is undoubtedly as the sefior says,” replied Benito politely, conveying quite the opposite opinion. ““We have good mutton at Los Quitos,”’ said the colonel, ‘‘and both Mariano and Manuelo should know how to What is the matter with this, Benito?” “The mutton is good, I do not deny, sefior. It is in prime condition, it is tender, But the mutton of the island } select. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST is better. There isa flavor, very faint to be sure, but which one can distinguish—it would have been better to have brought the island sheep, as always, instead of going afield to this Los Quitos.” “*Fortunately we have Benito with his knowledge of the old days to make up the difference,” said the colonel. “This rascal, Benito,’”’ he addressed the saturnine Manuelo, “would be relieved of all trouble. He could make a delicious carne of a burro.”’ The colonel’s little convoy had by now succumbed to various temptations and had scattered. Only remained to him Manuelo and two solemn hounds. The former he dis- missed. The latter accompanied him on his return journey. At the edge of the live-oak grove he stopped for a moment and looked abroad, removing his hat to allow the wandering breeze to play across his high, narrow forehead and to lift his rather long, silky white hair. Beyond the village of his retainers, beyond the wide, low barns and sheds and the whitewashed corrals, beyond the green of the Cathedral Oaks, spread the broad acres of the rancho. Hill after low hill they rolled, oak-dotted like a park, green with the grasses of an abundant year or washed bravely with the brilliant color of flower masses as though a gigantic brush had been swept across the slopes. At last they climbed into foothills, and then into the milky slate of mountain ramparts, against the sun. But the colonel knew that they climbed those ramparts and descended part way the other side—thirty thousand of them, these acres. In the opposite direction, across the flat of the valley, across the King’s Highway, across the waving of a broad tule marsh, was yet another low rim of hills, also oak-dotted like a park. And over their crest the colonel could make out a flash, which was the sea. Beneath the oaks it was safe to vision the cattle slowly gathering for shade—the colonel’s cattle—and he could only have guessed at the number of them. Up in those sagebrush hills, shining gray, up in the chaparral of the rampart moun- tains, sheep were moving slowly like something molten that flows—the colonel’s sheep. As the colonel stood his eye rested on only two evidences of human occupation other than his own. Against the base of a hill, five miles away or ten—one could not tell, the air was so diamond clear—amid the green of trees gleaméd white buildings. These were of the Rancho de las Flores, He Was Surrounded by Fluffy, Gay Nymphs, All Young and Charming. Two Negligible Maies Had Been Supplied by Providence belonging to the colonel’s friend and neighbor, Don Vir cente Cazadero. At one time the Rancho de Monte had also belonged to Don Vincente. Indeed, th« two properties had been part of the same original grant, but there had been various perplexing matters of borrow ings and extravagance and mortgages and some di titles and squatters and a whole host of vexatious, stinging little matters. It seemed on the whole simpler to get rid of them ata bite. The bite was del Monte. Las Flores still comprised forty thousand acres, and Don Vincente and t! colonel had become in the course of thirty years wonderful cronies. So that was all right The second evidence of human occupation was nearer at hand, in fact, a scant half mile distant. It was a brown little and it lay half hidden in the entrance of a caiion. Nothing much but the roof could be distir vv This property of a man named Brainerd, and with it acres had once belonged to del Monte. The colonel had sold it right from the heart of his own property, and it wa the only bit of original del Monte not still The story is too long to tell a gentleman and a lunger and a widower and the father of a little girl and down on his luck and proud la Corona de! } puted house, lished was the hundred and sixty in his hand m ? ? ‘ here. But Brainerd wa enough to struggle for appearances and intelligent and a number of similar matters. To clinch matters he had read and could quote Moby Dick. He was going on a government home stead when the colonel found him, which was all very well, but the nearest government homesteads were a long dis- tance out. Indeed, with the sea on one side, the Sur other, the rich walnut and orange farms Flores on the said to be mountains on the occupying the third, and del Monte and La fourth, the little town of Arguello might be pretty well surrounded. To be sure there were the sage brush foothills of the Sur, but they were dry, desert, fit only for sheep and quail. Take it all round, a man of moderate } means, ordered to live in Arguello Valley if he would live at all, would be puzzled to find a little ranch unless he went far out. Then the colonel happened along. Somehow Brainerd found himself in the little brown house. He paid +1 part of the astonishingly moderate price, kept up the in- terest on his mortgage, and there he had been for ten years But if the colonel had cared to turn round he could have seen the houses of Arguello only a mile away, with the Continued on Page 154 ae ae ee + as Witnesses

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6 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST August 7,1920 Last Days and Death the Rus- Told im Official Documents=—By G. G. Telberg, Professor of Law at the Deposition of Proskouriakoff 4 ‘ ner of the Omsk district court, N. A. Sokoloff, in formity with Paragraphs 403-409 of the Regula of the Penal Law Proceedings, investigated in the P corer the first to the third day of April, 1919, the f Yekaterinburg the undermentioned man, in the ‘ icity ¢ i ised, who deposed toff Proskouriakoff. At the time that ymmitted I was seventeen years old lam ‘ ‘ As ¢ Russian pea t be ing to the Orthodox Church, and For three ear | went to the issert Five Cla M pecia is electrical fittings. In answer to questior I could explain as follow | many years ! father had been a foreman in the ron WO! and resided all the time in the Sissert Iron Worl This was also my birthplace I did not complete tude in the ert school and had my st idies only luring three years. It was very difficult for me to learn; the imme e 1 father got ick and took me away from school. At first he placed me in the blacksmith’s shop of the factory, so that I might learn the trade. I was tructed by Vasily Afanasevitch Belonosoff. I left after 1 had worked for about a year in the shop; this work was too hard for me. My eldest brother found me a position in told me that we would be paid four hundred rubles per month and we would have to per form sentry du tir and would not be allowed to leep while doing so. Such were the conditions ex plained to me, so I enlisted at once \ I heard at that time, thirty Sissert workmen were all together enlisted Later ome of them withdrew, but the number of those who did so was small and they were replaced by others, also work- men from our fac- tory. Eleven of these first thirty men, a 7 The Royal Family's Sitting Room at Yekaterinburg the Palais Royal Theater, where I began to tudy for a ition of electriciar I stayed there for about a year, learned something abo it electricity and started in business fy own, running electric wires in town. Later I gota position in the Central Electric Plant Yekater I irg I worked there for il it a mont! nd, before Easter, 4918. went home I remember quite well tha or May ninth [| met on the bazaar a friend of mine, Ivan Semenoff Tala ! Hesaidtomethatacertaincom r, Mrachkovsky, had factory workmen re it turted iongst our ruiting fora special detachment that was intended to guard the Czar Personally I did not see Mracl ky. I heard only that he was in command of some troops fighting ivainst Dutolf from whenee he came here. I related to my father Talapoff’s word Both my father and my mother advised me not to enlist My father words Philip, don’t go; think it well over.” were: I was anxious tosee the Czar, so ignored my father’ the next day enlisted The enli ment took place in the house of Vasily Erkoff, which is on the Tzer soviet advice and on kovnaia Street, close to the The enlistment was performed by one of our Sissert workmen, Paul Spiridonoff Medvedeff, Medvedeff ee The Dining Room Bedroom of the Czar as I was told, were members of the Bolshevik Communist Party. In the second half of May we ar- rived all together at Yekaterinburg. At first we were all quartered in the new Gostinn- Dvor Bazaar House. There the soldiers of the Red Army also were located. We stayed there a few days without do- ing any work. At the end of May we were transferred to the Ipatieff house, where the Czar’s family lived. We placed in the were rooms cf the lower floor. Alexander Moshkin, a workmar of the Zhlokasoff factory, was ir charge of the house and our guard detachment was under hi Medvedeff was the senior in our party. He wa Nobod had elected him, but he was in charge of the enlistment of our party frem the beginning; he paid the wages and changed the sentries. Our salary was four hundred rubles per month; Medvedeff received six hundred Avdeeff remained all the time in the house and occupied the comman- dant’s room. Generally he arrived at nine o’clock A.M. and left at nine o’clock p.M. Moshkin stayed all the time in the commandant’s room, where he lived. Medvedeff also al- ways stayed with those two’ in the same room and spent the night there The sentry posts were as follows By the sentry box near the gate; by the sentry box near the chapel; be tween two fences, by the window of the house; in the front court, near the entrance to the house; in the back court; in the garden; in the entrance room of the upper floor, by the commandant’s room; near the lavatory, where the toilet and bathroom were located Besides that there were three sentry posts with machine guns: Beside the window of the attic; on the terrace that faced the garden; in the middle room of the lower floor. order our chief. lourousky Arrives as Commandant E WERE performing our duties for about a week when Avdeeff brought up about fifteen more men—all work- men of the Zhlokasoff factory. I suppose he did it because he thought we were overwerked, as we were obliged to be on duty four hours at atime. It was raining, and we were not accustomed to this sort of duty. The Zhlokasoff workmen lived with us in the upper floor There were not any women in our detachment. We had our own male cooks, who prepared our food. At first Ivan Kategoff was the cook; later he was replaced by Andrew Starkoff. At the end of June or maybe at the beginning of July Moshkin was arrested by Avdeeff, as he was suspected of stealing a small gold cross belonging to the Czar. At the same time Avdeeff was also dismissed and replaced by Iourovsky. Nikoulin was appointed as his assistant. Positively I do not know who were Iourovsky and Nikoulin. Both of them arrived at the house together. They always remained in the commandant’s room. Iourovsky arrived in the morning at eight or nine o’clock and left at five or six in the afternoon. Nikoulin practi- cally lived in the commandant’s room and spent the a oe eee —— —— | |

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST sian Emperor and His Family TT! - lintwaratt wararvov YVUmIversi ty, and Former Minister of Justic The House Where the Czar Was Killed »f the Russian Government at Omek read, or some- times embroid- ered or knitted something to- gether with her daughters. The Czarevitch, when he could, made little wire chains for his toy ship. They walked every day for about an hour or an hour and a half. They were not allowed to take any physical exercise. I re- member that Pashka Medve- deff told once that the Czar Nicholas Alexandrovitch once asked Jou- rovsky’s permis- sion to clean the garden. Iourov- sky forbade him to do it. personally seen. There was a doctor, a stout man w gray hair, aged about fifty-five. He wore spectacles that had, as far as I remember, gold rims. There was a waiter, aged thirty-five, tall, slim and dark. A cool stayed with them. He was aged forty, was short, thin, a little bald; he had black hair and small black mustache There was also a maid with them, aged about forty, tall thin and dark: I did not see the color of her hair, because she always tied a handkerchief on her head. There wa also a boy with them. The boy was aged about fifteen; } hair was black and he wore it parted; his nose was lon; his eyes were black Bolshevik Surveillance ey other two men stayed with the imperial fami as Medvedeff explained to me, they were also servant One of them was tall, thin, aged about thirty-five; his hair was light red and cut short; he shaved his be: trimmed his mustache; his nose was of medium size and straight. I don’t remember his other distinguishing marl } but his skin was clear and looked as delicate as a woman The other was also tall, aged about thirty; his hair wa black and parted. He was clean shaven. The first mar wore a black jacket, trousers and shoes. The second mat wore a jacket, a stiff shirt, with a tie, trousers and shoe Both of these two men I have seen only ones , when I wa on guard in the house during the first days. Since then | did not see them. Medvedeff told me that both of then were taken to Number Two Pri but what was the reason of impri night there. Medvedeff also contin- 1 nd the night in the same ibout a week after Jour- ued to spe roon ovsk d Nikoulin assumed their duties all the Sissert and Zhlokasoff workmen were transferred to the Po- poffs’—or Oboukoffs’—house, which was opposite the Ipatieffs’ house. Instead of by us, the lower floor of the [patie ff house was occ upied by Letts, who were about ten in number. Before the arrival of the Letts all the sentry duties were performed ex- clusively by the Sissert workmen. After their arrival all the posts on the upper floor, where the Czar’s family lived, were taken up by Letts. We, Russian workmen, were not al- ywed to go to the upper floor. Such The machine-gun teams, who per- formed no other duty than at the machine guns, were composed from our Sissert workmen. At the time when Avdeeff was e chief all the other posts were oc- ipied by the rest of the workmen oning them I was not told and I wa not interested either in knowing. Or everal occa I have een th Bolshevik Beloborodoff, who came to the house probably to inspect the life of the imperial family. Anyhow I was told by Medvedeff that such w the reason of his visit Beloborodoff I have observed very distinct] He looked as being aged twenty-five he was of medium height, thin; hi face was pale. Beloborodotf visited the house while Avdeeff was on duty there as well as when Iourovsky wa Regarding the restrictions and treatment of the Emperor and hi family by the executives and the ng: Avdeefi was a simple workman, very poorl; mentally developed. Sometimes he was intoxicated. But neither he nor his guards during his time offended or did any wrong to the imperial family. Iourovsky and Nikoulin be haved themselves differently Dur ing their time the imperial family But after the arrival of Iourovsky ind of the Letts, we workmen be- » posts outside of the house. All posts inside of the house were assigned othe Letts. Before the arrival of the Letts I carried, as well as other workmen, my sentry duties inside the house for about six times, keeping guard by the commandant’s room and the lavatory. I performed this duty in the mo ig, daytime, evening and night. During this time I have seen all the imperial family: The Emperor, the - s, Czarevitch, as well as the daughters: Olga, Maria and Anastasia. I have seen them very wr to the lavatory all used to w: garden, except the Empress. I never saw her w The Czarevitch I have seen only once, as he by the oldest daughter of the Emperor “zarevitch was ill all the time vell when they went for av or pass from one room to ¢ alking in The Day’s Routine CAN tell about the way they spent their time from the I words of Medvedeff, who, of course, saw them more fre- quently than I did. They got up at about eight or nine o'clock in the morning. They had family prayers. They room and sang prayers. They had dinner at three o’clo They all dined together in one room; I mean to say that they dined with the servants that were with them. At nine o’clock in the evening they had supper and tea. After that they went to bed. Accord- rto the words of Medvedeff, they occupied themselves ir all assembled in one The Emperor read, the Empress also the following way The Commandant's Room at Yekaterinburg I heard their singing several times. They sang only sacred songs. On Sundays they had divine serv- ice, performed by a clergyman and a deacon, who I think were from the Verhne-Vos- nese nsky Church. At first the food was brought for them from asoviet dining room—two women broughtit; their cook heated it. Later they were allowed to prepare their mealsinthe house. Besides the imperial family in the upper floor of the house there lived with them the following per- sons, whom I have (Continued on Page i129 Evidences of the Murder

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WILD UD WYATT woke to the ing metal, his e ed with the quickstep f ‘ ver rail joint ‘ lv e of couplers fw ( be ill distinct il e the deep note ft I A shar} 1 smell ; 7 e f ! the | ‘ t nh o7 ch hel I I nent the ' e and odor pacified the ur ‘ ! t it had adi irbed f ‘ o that he did not ope ! He kne ere he was and el ‘ e there But eeper instinet re ed the « f bie reussur inces of « ind nostril ome t gin him rebe d against a t reve ‘ leep A j in ¢ ed tl ime intu io ( i from lifting his evelids wide. He looked out thy vh lashe to see lar ting lice f vray light thrusting through the crac about the bre n door And in the same ert nee he w the three rie ) ed toward him watched them as they cor upon him wit! laughing, evil faces, the he ilder irms bent inward at t lowered, their elbow He lay quit t one irm outilung on the litter, but a hot, joyous « citement throbbed in hin »> that he seemed to t erve Inging eta wires in a wind, feltad cing tempo in his | ‘ The uy ir of the i moothed into an expect ant husl The pleasurable ter 7) deepened a he aw one of the three pause and pulla ' yur He would |} ive ed tolaugh at the odds against ® him Hle recognized the mat the gun now Fish »y had been it the same jail somewhere, and he had heard admiring whispers of Fish \ hard guy . nehow the recog nition heightened his er woyment as one of the others crept in close and stooped above him, one hand patting the pocket of his coat He waited till the fellow moved between him ind the gun. Then his re laxed arm lifted and hooked tight about the mar ‘’s neck. In the same motion his body knee and thigh aided by the involuntary straightening of his victim He laughed softly ! tened and he jack- knifed forward from the hip. The other man stumbled Wyatt's kne the stomach and a whinnying scream broke from him—a was erect, the pring of hi His elbow tig backward, out of balance struck him in ery as rare and hideous as the shriek of a horse in pain. He Wyatt laughed again, and threw him on Fish, as he might have thrown a half-filled grain sack. They went down together and Wyatt whirled to the sidling rush of the third. He scarcely felt the impact of a fist on his cheek bone. He laughed once more and mark deliberately just below the went limp in Wyatt's grip struck twice, choosing his flattened chest He s attempt to clinch, and struck agair feet, tripped his staggered back. prawling with a favoring swerve of the car Wyatt's spring carried him to the door. He turned for i final look at his work, and his lip drew flat above his sight—three of them, and a gun, and all on lipped to the side, evading the clumsy Fish, halfway to his They fell, mate as he teeth at the CAIRIR THE SATURDAY EVENING POST By Hugh MacNair Kahler T He Saw Laura Usuaily on These Visits, and Contrived to Make it Clear That He Prospered their faces! A glow of contempt warmed him. Hard guys, eh? Bad men? They weren't hard enough or bad enough for this job! He thrilled toa sense of power, exhilarating like a drug The door rolled back under his thrust as Fish scrambled for a footing in the trash. He hesitated on the sill as the flit of the overgrown right of way warned him of the train's speed. For an instant he meditated staying, fighting it out. But Fish had found his feet now, and the gun glittered. He saw death in the distorted face above it, and leaped up and out with the yelp of the shot in his ears A moment of free flight and he struck the slope of a cut, struggling to keep his feet against a power which suddenly wiped out his throbbing sense of strength, flung him for- ward so that his face found the gravel before his hands, dragged him over briers and flints and brought him up against a sapling with a snapping jerk which wrenched every muscle in him. ILLUSTRATED Br August 7,1920 CLARENCE F. UNDERWOOD He lay where he stopped, shaken and a little sick, an army of separate pains tearing at him, all the lust and heat of his fight gone from him. The clatter and roar of the train jeered at him, dulled and died in the distance before he rose. He tested warily for broken bones, and a feeble afterglow of pride came to him as he found himself unhurt except for torn skin and bruised muscles. Mighty few men could have made that jump without paying more than a few scratches for it. He grinned again at the thought of the fight, the picture of the three startled, stupid faces turned toward him as he sprang. His black felt hat hung in a bramble close by him. He put it on, becoming aware now of half his coat, which dangled from an elbow. He threw it off, scowling. There was a long rip in his over- alls, through which he saw the play of lean muscles, but the flannel shirt had taken no harm. He could do without the coat easily enough, but its loss brought him back to a sullen realization of folly. The three yeggmen would have frisked him, of course, for money or drink or tobacco. That was natural, inevitable. No sensible working stiff would have expected anything else of the situation, or ob- jected to the process especially if he had been aware in advance of empty pockets. It would have been per- fectly simple to submit, knowing thut when they found nothing on him they would let him perhaps stand him a drink or a pill out of their own supply. If he had not yielded to the urge of a fighting impulse he could have traveled on to the end of the divi with comfortable peace; even profited, perhaps, by their familiarity with the business of beating a passage west. As it was he had taken a few heavy blows, risked a_ bullet, run a good chance of breaking his neck by a crazy jump out into the middle of nowhere. He cursed himself silently as he climbed the bank of the cut for a look at the country. A fight- ing fool. The land fell away before him in long, easy billows, checkerboarded in green and gold by square fenced fields of wheat stubble and corn and clover, with straight yellow lines of road lifting and falling past farms—farms with huge painted barns and towering silos, with cheerful houses set in clumps of shade. The sun had barely lifted clear of the eastward rim and the light struck toward him across a shining sea of dew. A great ‘lamor of birds filled the air; clear and far away he heard the bugling of roosters, and the sound, strained and sweetened by distance, stirred dim, pleasurably melan- choly memories. He shook his head and his lips drew straight and flat. A mean country, he thought, for a man afoot, with its His self-anger quickened at the thought of alone, even sion them in naked roads dusty, sun-scorched miles, with no cover of woodlands, the ready outrush of dogs, the distrustful hostility of men and women. “*A fightin’ fool,’’ he muttered. again. “I had it comin’ to me.” His eye traveled over the fields intelligently. Alien as these friendly mellow lands were to his memories of farm- ing country hesaw them witha certain understanding, noted the height and vigor of the corn, the lush leafage where potato rows had all but merged in an unbroken mat of growth. He measured and appraised the cattle grazing in the pasture just before him, and his eye narrowed at the sight of a dozen horses grouped beside a bare-banked brook. And he cursed himself —S—S ( See eee SS ee —

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“Pretty soft,” he told himself. nobody at work.” “‘Long past sunup and He observed the distant chimneys and saw no smoke. “All in bed,’’ he guessed. ‘Pretty soft farmin’.”’ He climbed a fence and walked through deep grass to the brook. The chill of the water stung the raw abrasions on his face and hands and his scowl returned at the reminder. He crossed the pasture and emerged on a road, compressed by wire fences to a straight gash between the fields. He walked with the shuffling stiff-kneed step of the cities, and his broken shoes lifted little puffs of dust, so that his dew-drenched trousers were yellowed to the knee. He kept his eyes straight before him, narrowed against the sun, already hot enough to sting his cheek. He had no plan. Something urged him away from the rails, and he yielded sullenly. After all, one city was the same as another; it wasn’t worth the trouble it cost to experiment. And he needed food anyway. ers would be up and at their breakfasts. He'd eat, first of all. After that—he did not follow the thought. It didn’t matter much what happened, after breakfast. He tightened the strap which did duty as belt, suddenly conscious of an aching hunger. He turned in at the first farm he reached, grinning scorn- fully at the double line of maples flanking a curved drive, the smooth barbered turf below them, the clean white of the house shining through trained vines and climbing Gentleman farming, he thought, with a sullen amusement in the phrase—some rich man playing at it as at a game. There were cushioned rockers on a recessed porch behind white columns, a box hammock. As he rounded the corner he saw an open door and a small car beyond it. They even had a garage, eh? He stopped short before the silent challenge of a man who eme rged from the side door and stood surveying him Pretty soon these lazy farm- roses. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST with even, understanding eyes—a man lean and straight like a spear, so that his white beard and hair seemed some- how to accentuate the strength and alertness of him. Wyatt met the eyes squarely, as if the conflict of glances were a test of strength; his instinct compelled him to accept their scrutiny as he accepted any other summons to fight. And he was dimly aware, for once, of an inspection in which he detected neither compassion nor contempt. This man studied him, read him, and yet, Wyatt felt, did not despise him. “Well?” The voice was crisp without harshness. In some mys- terious fashion it lessened Jud Wyatt’s combative impulse. He answered evenly. “I thought you might stake me to breakfast.” was no plea in his tone. He merely stated a fact. off a freight, back there a ways.” “Tramp, eh?”’ The eyes did not change. Wyatt’s surli- ness resented the word rather than the tone. “*No—lookin’ for work. Plenty of jobs in Detroit.”’ The regarded him with the same “Farmer, to begin with, weren’t you?” Jud Wyatt arrested a denial at the point of utterance. After all, this man was a farmer himself. The word lost its flavor of offense, on his lips. He nodded. ““Grew up on a farm.”” He glanced about him. ‘‘ Not much like this, though.’’ The contrast loosened his tongue. ““Vermont—best crop you get is stones.” ‘I’ve heard'so.”” The eyes forsook their grip on Wyatt's, and moved deliberately, as if appraising the power in his wire-lean shoulders. ‘Got tired of it, did you?” “*Soon as I grew up I beat it, quick.”” Wyatt chuckled. ** All a fellow could do to wrassle a livin’ out o’ the rocks.” ““H’m. City didn’t treat you very much better, did it?” The glance made him aware of his faded, torn overalls, the There “*T fell eyes steadiness, He scowled, more at the done to stained shirt and broken shoes memory of what the cities had the implication of the question him than at “Not much.” He tightened his fists and his eyes nar rowed. The farmer chuckled without mirth 3ut you're bound for Detroit, eh? Going to try it again? Even if you have to beg your way from men who stayed by the land? Why?” Wyatt's scowl deepened. The new to him, forcing him to think, and he “*Nothin’ in farmin’,” The other laughed. ‘‘ Depends on what you call farm ing, and where youtry it. I’ve found a pretty fair house in the land right here ing for me and my family. Forty years back I worked by the day on this place ee Again the words prodded Wyatt's brain uncomfortably He felt as if he groped, blindfolded, toward an elusive mocking light. Something was wrong somewhere with an established conviction that only fools stuck to the farms, that only bone-cracking work repaid them for their folly The leisured tolerant manner of this once to his envy and his contempt. It suggestion Was wholly hated thinking he said slowly. and pretty good liv I've seen men do worse in the city farmer appealed at just be nearing six, tep d talk to a passing and the man could stand on hi i hobo; shiftless—and yet shiftless farmers didn’t own houses like this and run automobiles. a He remembered suddenly work horses idle in their pasture, cows still waiting to be milked the smokeless chimneys he had seen at sunrise, the Somehow all of these things pointed to a meaning that evaded him. “You made a living, didn’t you, on 5 in Vermont? Well, a man who could stay get rich here—with half the work here—and they'll offer you work at Continued on Page 139 our poor land up ould yu right ilive there « I could use any house you find A Queer Thought Came to Him: If Hattie Had Been a Boy She Could Have Whipped Him

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ONTRARY to popular uspicion, ‘ income-tax THE SATURDAY EVENING POST August 7,1920 we have here the lowest opinion of average human honesty to be t is mainly in habited and ad- ministered by human being Anyhow the are human enoug! 0 ippreciate the pr ictical wisdom of the canny Mr rurgot, who ob erved that good taxation isthear of pluc king the goose without makin 4 it quawk rhe officials of the unit frankly ad mit that they, trive to please and aim to make the proce of plucking as pa Ii is possible at least to the taxpayer whose Intentions appear to be honest | is a settled point found anywhere in the country. “That's a great mistake. On the whole we have a high opinion of the financial hon- esty of theaverage taxpaying citizen I’m frank to say that it takes the most positive evi- dence of fraud to make us shift our normal attitude and say to our- selves: ‘This man is a crook; he’s deliberately try- ing to cheat the Government.’ Of course we do have thousands of such cases. But we find immensely more of those showing evidence ofintentional fair- ness No doubt of policy with the administration of this important arm of the Government that too many squawking geese would be unpleasant and also a poor advertisement for the live-feather indu A nation of contented income tax payers is the big dream of those who are charged with the responsibility of plu gy this form of government support from the Not long ago a citizen laboring under evident excite- prosperou eitizen ment entered the office of comn oner of internal revenue and asked for an interview with the chief. If his name had not been instantly recognized by that busy official the interview would have been granted just a cheerfully, but the comn mer at once identified his caller as a man of importance in the financial affairs of a certain large city Invited to be nervous visitor spoke with undiplomatic directness eated and release his safety valve, the “I've just discovered,”” he declared, “that I’ve overpaid my income and profit taxes for the past year in the amount Of course I could grin and bear it ved wouldn't break me—but there are certain features of that tax which seem fundamentally unjust to me and this tends to of a good many thousands of dollar the loss of the money inv make me decidedly touchy, | suppose It always upsets I can take a heavy loss on the market without a whimper—but to me to lose money through sheer stupidity make a silly blunder in figuring or in paying out funds upsets me rather shamefully Touched, but Happy ] ‘| HAVEN'T come down here with the idea that it’s going to do me any real good, but just for the moral sati faction of learning how much i'm cut-—and perhaps of getting somebody to admit it officially ‘To my mind,” remarked the commissioner, “it’s a | not work both ways in a matter of this sort. The Government says that you must poor rule of honesty that wi pay a certain income tax—and is mighty set and explicit is to just how it shall be figured. It admits no such clause as ‘errors and omissions excepted.’ The familiar invoice line to this effect is not to be found anywhere on your tax bil “The Government doesn’t permit you to make a mis- take and get away with it. “*T'd be this stand as to mistakes made against it and would then ashamed to represent a government that took turn round and take the benefit of a mistake in its favor. And 1 don't represent that sort of government If a careful check of your income return shows that you have paid us a dollar or a million dollars more than you should have paid under a fair interpretation of the law, that sum will be cheerfully refunded to you “Of course if the situation should happen to be reversed by the findings and it turned out that you should be as- sessed an additional tax you would as cheerfully pay it as a matter of common fairness.’ Personal Audit Section, Internal Audit Division ‘Yes, of course,”’ admitted the distressed caller, “but this time the shoe happe ns to be on the other foot!” The visiting stranger was then introduced to the head of the income-tax unit and finally to the auditors assigned to check his return. About three days later, when the commissioner had for- gotten the incident, this citizen met him in his outer office, grasped his hand and smilingly exclaimed: ‘Just ran in to tell you, Mister Commissioner, that we’ve been all over my tax matter with a fine-tooth comb and it’s all fixed up to my complete satisfaction.” By the change in your expression and general appear- ance,’ remarked the commissioner, “I should judge that you are going away with a substantial refund.” “No sir,” promptly responded the man from the West, “that’s the queer part of it. I have just given my check to cover an additional assessment of more than forty thousand dollars fut I haven’t a kick. And I’m glad I came. Your men showed me precisely where I was mis- taken, and you and all the others I've met down here have demonstrated to me that this place is run strictly on the square and that you are just as much concerned to protect the taxpayer against his own mistakes as you are to get all that is coming to you under the law.”’ As the smiling taxpayer, who had been unexpectedly touched for an additional forty thousand, disappeared into the corridor the commissioner remarked: ‘Looks to me as if we're really learning how to pluck the goose without raising a squawk I'd call that making ‘em pay and making "em like it, all right. There are certain taxpayers to whom we have handed back about a million dollars each who were not any better satisfied than this man who was called upon to make an additional payment of forty thousand dollars when he had expected a big refund in- stead—or rather had thought that one was due him but that probably he would not get it. “And right there is an illustration of the attitude of the average honest citizen of this country. Show him that Uncle Sam is as human and fair as he is and that this official organization is not a kennel of bloodthirsty tax hounds bent on getting all they can, but a body of officers who are just as keen on giving justice as on getting it, and the result is a satisfied taxpayer—without regard to whether he gets a refund or an additional assessment.” “But,” 1 remarked, “I noticed that you confined your observation to ‘the honest citizen’—which might be a rather broad handicap.” “It might be,” he replied, “but as a matter of fact it isn’t. Our experience is that most income-tax payers in- tend to make square and honest returns. We are so thor- oughly convinced of this average attitude that we base our own Official policy on it. Our attitude on the opening of a tax return for examination is that it is intentionally hon- est. And generally this approach is justified. I have some reason for thinking that the public believes us to be pro- fessional pessimists of the most unqualified kind and that many are deterred from attempting to falsify their re- turns by fear of detection and punishment. But, admit- ting this, I am still inclined to feel that most income-tax payers do not wish to defraud the Government.” This naturally suggested the interesting question What chance has the intentionally crooked taxpayer to cash in on his dishonest intentions and get away with it, permanently? I put this question up to Mr. Alexander, head of the technical division of the unit. He smiled and replied: ‘I can’t say that I consider his chances very encouraging. This is not because we are a breed of supersleut hs down here but because we are deal- ing with human nature. Only a fair understanding of that factor is necessary to compel the conviction that con- cealing income, like murder, will out. The main thing which makes its betrayal almost automatic is the fact that any attempt at fraud generally involves more than one person-——usually an employer and an employee. The employer who gets himself into this position is at the mercy of the employee who—willingly or unwillingly connives to beat the Government.”’ Belated Penitence “TT IS easy to say that an employer who would attempt to carry out such a scheme of connivance is not only foolish but foolhardy to the point of complete recklessness. The fact remains that this plan is attempted in hundreds of cases; this we know. Sometimes I think that the high- ‘est testimonial to the loyalty of the bookkeeping fraternity is furnished by employers of this class, who take it for granted that they can place their freedom from imprison- ment and from financial and social ruin in the hands of confidential accountants without fear of being betrayed. “In hundreds of cases this almost childlike confidence is well placed—for I do not flatter myself that we have as yet detected all the cases of intentional fraud embodied in our immense collection of tax returns. But here again we have to consider the dominant element of human nature. Partners quarrel and corporation auditors, treasurers and accountants have disagreements with their principals These upheavals come most unexpectedly and after long years of intimate and confidential relationship. And when they do come the man who has helped his principal in framing a fraudulent income-tax return has a sure and reasonably safe weapon of revenge or extortion in his hands. Generally he knows how to use it. “Belated penitence for connivance in a scheme of this kind must naturally be taken at face value. It is difficult to disprove. Also, it is just as useful in unearthing a fraud case, whether genuine or simulated, disproven or proven. Motive is generally difficult of positive proof and when a discharged accountant claims that his disclosures come from the proddings of an unquiet conscience instead of a desire for revenge he has rather the best of the argument — especially if he is able to give positive proof that his con- science should have troubled him.” $e ) ) }

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The circumstances leading to the trial, conviction and sentence of two men doing a large business in an Eastern city illustrate the most common kind of income-tax- fraud leakage. One day information reached the head of the income-tax unit that an accountant in a certain city was suffering acutely from the attacks of an outraged conscience in con- nection with the tax return of the firm with which he had been associated, and that he was ready to make a clean breast of the whole unsavory business. Naturally he did not neglect to negotiate for his own exemption from crimi- nal prosecution. There was no indefiniteness about the evidence which he gave—except in perhaps one particular. This was touching the fact that he had asked for a substantial raise in salary shortly before his conscience had triumphed over his fears. With a sublime faith in the traditional long- suffering patience of bookkeeper nature his employers denied his request and he was let out. The result of this overconfidence on the part of his employers was that they were let in for terms in a Federal prison and fines to the amount of about a million dollars. These men had main- tained a double set of books and the job was extremely well done. Undoubtedly the most ingenious fraud-defense plea ever offered to an officer of the income-tax unit was also provoked by a tip from a bookkeeper with an ax to grind. It is known in the technical division as the Spendthrift Brother The confidential information which confirmed the suspicions roused by the regular audit and put the unit on the trail indicated where a little red book could be found. The search was fruitful and the book decidedly lluminating Case The Spendthrift Brother Case \ HEN the two brothers owning two-thirds of the stock /Y¥ in the tight little corporation were faced with the little red book and its revelations they threw up their hands and ‘You do us a great injustice. We are not at- tempting to defraud the Government, but are simply try- ng to protect an erring and spendthrift brother who owns one-third of the company’s stock and squanders every dollar he can secure. We decided that we must do some- thing to protect him against himself until he comes to his enses and settles down to a sober and reasonable way of The only way by which this could be done was to conceal from him the profits of the business. That we intended to return to him his share of the profits when he reformed his spendthrift ways—and also to pay the Gov- ernment the tax on that part of the profits and income temporarily withheld—is proved by the careful record kept in the little red book. Why would we have kept an exact record if we did not intend to make restoration to him and to the Government when we could do so without con- tributing to his downfall?” The little red book indicated that the job of cutting out the major portion of the wayward brother’s profits had been very neatly done, and that in these days of the high cost of dissipation he could not have traveled far along the downward speedway on the dividend checks from the family corporation after the elder brothers had split the guardianship fund two ways and thus disposed of one-half the company’s profit declared i} ng i ng. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST The officials of the income-tax unit, however, failed to see these men as zealous protectors of their brother's morals. They even felt a bond of sympathy for the way- ward youth and decided to exercise a close guardianship over the two self-appointed guardians. Which suggests that any reforms in which the amount of a firm’s or an individual’s income tax is involved should be carefully considered —together with the feelings of any bookkeepers or accountants who may be taken into confidence in the course of the transaction! Bookkeepers are queer birds and are quite as likely to harbor a sneaking sympathy for gay youngspendthrifts as for those whoare trying to re- form them—at the expense of the objects of the uplift. “The inventory is the nest,”’ declared one official of the unit, “in which we always look for rotten eggs. This is a favorite place for their concealment. Corporation executives of a certain stripe seem to have acquired the impression that the auditors of the income-tax unit are babes in the wood when they encounter a complex in- ventory and will not be able to tell which way is north. This is a grave mistake. We have a choice collection of inventory sharks who regard taking the kinks out of a highly manipulated inventory as the greatest indoor sport ever invented. What is more important to the taxpayer, they seem to have developed almost a sixth sense for discriminating between an honestly mistaken inventory and one built with intent to deceive. “To make a just and fairinventory fora large business— especially one that is as complex as it is extensive—is no simple task. For this reason we must be extremely cautious about concluding that it has been fabricated from a deliberate intent to deceive. Where the element of in- dividual judgment enters into a figure or into selecting a basis of computation the taxpayer must be given the benefit of the doubt until a dishonest intent is clearly evident.” A field auditor on his return from a trip where he had checked the return of a large mill appeared before his chief and declared: ‘This case is a tough one. The in- ventory is badly out of plumb—but still I’m not fully convinced that there has been an attempt to trim the Government. At first it looked as if it were going to develop into a well-defined case of fraud; but I haven't been able so far to reach a positive conviction in my own mind of the criminal intent of this taxpayer. It is de- cidedly puzzling. If we get the officers of the company up here perhaps their intent can be more clearly developed.” A request to this effect met a generous response; the company sent a delegation of about fifteen of its most important men. Their attitude and manner, as the con- ference progressed, were closely observed, but failed to give any clear indications of a guilty conscience. It did not take long to show these men that their company owed the Government more than a million and a half dollars on a straight adjustment, and that the penalties incurred doubled that sum. This finding made the head man of the company gasp. The examination indicated that the inventories had been on a proper basis up to 1917. Then came a change. That year presented possibilities of decided fluctuation and the inventory was figured at a price to protect against a drop in the market. At the same time this concern— doing a business of more than twenty million dollars— adopted the policy of hedging on the market, which brought 11 them profits of about two hundred thousand dollars. All this change of base in figuring inventory values would, if not challenged, have saved the company fully one million five hundred thousand dollars The conference closed Saturday evening with a discus sion of penalties also amounting to a million and a half. The opening of business Monday morning found the head of the big mill company camping on the doormat of the chief of the unit. With tears in his eyes he declared that the penalty would spell financial ruin for himself and hi whole family; that the additional assessment and a half would strain his resources to the utmost the doubling of that sum meant collapse. He also re viewed the circumstances of the « hange of base and urged various points indicating with considerable plausibility of a million but that there had not been a criminal intent. The Purpose of Penalties A THE end of this plea the head of the tax unit made substantially this answer: ‘‘ You have not wholly con- vinced me of all absence of criminal intent, but you have established in my mind and those of my associates con- nected with the case a reasonable doubt that you or your ur return We recognize that the making of an inventory such as yours is a highly technical and intricate task; that the men who handled that work for the course of our conference of a lack of entire compe- tency for the job, and finally that the affairs of your com- pany indicate that it would be virtually impossible for it to raise the amount of its with the additional assessment. In other words, the assessment of the penalties would probably prevent the collection of the the « associates immediately concerned in making y had a specific intention to defraud the Government you have given some evidence in penalties together additional assessment because it would ruin ompany. “As a matter of human justice and of practical business we have virtually decided to give you the benefit of the doubt and not assess the penalties. So I suggest that you t ima ol ibmit that fora final review.”’ This taxpayer was not penalized. The chastened head of the company first exhausted all his personal as did his principal associates, and raised the million a half for the payment of the back taxe Next he his attention to the reorganization of the accounting staff, employing highly If any prepare a careful affidavit pointing out the ation a lack of criminal intent and resources gave ites a competent men mistakes ; made in the income-tax schedules of the concern now they are against the company and not the Government —which is considered a fair indication that this erring taxpayer was sufficiently penalized without the imposition of the penalties that might have beer essed under the law. “Our assessment of per ies,” declares Mr. Newton, the head of the unit, ‘‘and our prosecutions for fraud can- not rest upon mere technical ground justice and that public respect fi the income-tax law that is necessary manent success of the great task. The real work out human wr the administration of f | and per- iry for the rea of purpose penalties is not to increase the volume of income-tax receipts but to let honest men know that we're after the crooks and let the crooks know that they can't get away with a fraudulent return without suffering for it. And, of course, this is also true with respect to prosecutions. Continued on Page 44) ogee Ne my ] *j 3 - S 0 | ; PHOTOS. BY MH. MH. RIDEOUT, WASHINGTON, 0. C The Revenue Records Section, Fietd Audit Division The Trading Section, Internal Audit Division

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12 THE SATURDAY EVENING YUTT ty ' Origir hecure | (Cyne } tr 4 persor p alt 1 chiefly f pettif and te Ct RY DICTIONARY ' " Nall ai hang separately t Tex ait f Independence MeGurk hove the brick through the butcher shop he did it casu- HEN Terrs 1 window of Froelich illy, as a matter of course, on general principles, ind without any idea of starting anything. He had trolled unexpectedly round the corner from his dad’s saloon, had see the row going on between Froelich and the gang of boys that after school hours used the street in front of the shop as a ball ground, and had merely seized the opportunity to vindicate his reputation as a desperado i put one over on the Dutchman. The fact that he had on a red sweater was the barest coincidence. Having observed the brick to be accurately pursuing its proper trajectory he had ducked back round the corner again and rejoicing. He Mathusek, continued upon his way had not even noticed Tony who, having accident illy found himseif the midst of the mélé« had started to retreat the in the crash, plump into the arms of Delany of the Unfortunately wear in ; —~¢ beat a tant of and had rut Officer second Pony ng a red sweater ‘I’ve got young devil!” exulted * Here’ of ‘em. Froelich!" ‘Dot's him! It wa 1 feller mit weater! Dot who done it!’ the butcher. “l gomblaint too was you, you Delany one a red the vur shrieked vill make a ivainst him!” vou! “Come along, Quit yer kickin’ !”" o7 dered the cop, twisting Tony's thin arm until he writhed “You'll identify him, Froe hich ° Sure! Didn't I see him mit my eyes? He yvun of dem rascals vot drives all mine gustom ers avay mit deir yell ingandscreaming. You fix it for me, Bill.” “That’s all right,” the officer assured him I'll tix him good, I will! It’s the reforma tory for him. Or, say, ou can make a com plaint for maliciou mischief.” ‘Sure! Dot's it! Malicious mischief!’ assented the not over ntelligent *Ve'll for good, eh tradesman rid of him yet “Dot's Himt ‘Sure,”’ assented Delany. “‘Come along, you!” Tony Mathusek lifted a white tortured arm face drawn with agony from his I didn't break “Say, mister, you got the wrong feller! I was just comin’ from the house up!” “Tell that to the the window “Aw shut sneered Delany igre *Y’ ain't goin’ wasn't with them boys “Oh, 80 3 ] want no to take me to jail?” wailed Tony. “I I don’t belong to that gang.” Well, we don't the with ‘Come along now, and ou belong to a gang, do ve? gangsters round here!”’ cried otticer idroit if unserupulous sophistry keep quiet or it'll be the worse for ye “Can't L tell my mother? She'll be lookin’ for me. She's in old lady rell nuthin’ Tony You come along!” saw all hope fade. He hadn't a chance—even to go to a decent jail! He had heard all about the horrors of It Was a Fetler Mit a Red Sweater! The Shyster=By Arthur Train bi ILLUSTRATED WILLIAM BY ARTHUR BROWN f j POST 4 i ‘ A hie August 7,1920 -_ looked to him, when it was de- sirable, to deliver the goods not necessarily cash—but to stand with the bunch. These in turn were obligated on occasion, through self- interest or mistaken loyalty to friend or party, to overlook trifling irregularities, to use various sorts of pressure, or to forget what they were asked to forget. There was a far-reaching web of com- plicated relationships— official, political, t Fe matrimonial, commercial and other- gr ? wise—which had a very practical ef- tity f af! fect upon the performance of theoretical > ae duty. é r 4 LP Delany was neither an idealist nor a Pil eG philosopher. He was an empiricist, with rok a touch of pragmatism—though he did } fo not know it. Even reform administra Pa tions have been known to advocate a lib- They wouldn't even let your people visit you on Sunday And his mother would think he was run murdered. She would go crazy with worry. He didn’t mind on his own account, but his mother He loved the old widowed mother who worked her fingers off to send him to school. And he was the only one left, now that Peter had been killed in the war. It was too much. With a sudden twist he tore out of his coat and dashed blindly down the street. As well might a rabbit hope to escape the claws of a wildcat. In three bounds Delany had him again, choking him until the world turned black. But this is not a story about police brutality, for most not brutal. Delany was an old-timer who be- lieved in rough methods. He belonged, happily, to a fast- vanishing system more in harmony with the middle ages than with our present enlightened form of municipal gov- ernment. He remained what he was for the reason that farther up in the official hierarchy there were others who the refor matory over or ‘ Ops are Dot's the Vun Who Done It!t'' Shrieked the Butcher eral enforcement of the laws. Can you blame Delany for being a practical man when others so much greater than he have prided themselves upon that same attribute of prac ticality? There were of course a lot of things he simply had to do or get out of the force; at any rate, had he not done them his life would have been intolerable. These consisted in part of being deaf, dumb and blind when he was told to be so—a com- paratively easy matter. But there were other things that he had to do as a matter of tact, to show that he was all right, which were not only more difficult, but expensive, and at times dangerous. He had never called upon to swear away an innocent man’s liberty, but more than once he had had tostand for a frame-up against a guilty one. According to his cop psychology, if his side partner saw omething it was prac- tically the same as if he had seen it himself That phantasmagorical scintilla of evidence needed to ‘bolster upa weak or doubtful could always be counted on if Delany was the officer who had made the arrest. None of his cases were ever thrown out of court for lack of evidence, but then, De- lany never arrested any body who wasn’t guilty! And of course he had to “vive up” at intervals, depending on what administration was in power, who his immedi- ate superior was, and what precinct he was attached to He was not a regular grafter by any means He was an occasional one merely; when he had to be. He did not consider that he was being grafted on when expected to contribute to chowders, picnics, benevolent associations, defense funds or wedding presents for high police officials Neither did he think that he was taking graft because he amicably permitted Froelich to leave a fourteen-pound rib roast every Saturday night at his brother-in-law’s flat. In the same way he regarded the bills slipped him by Grabinsky, the bondsman, as well-earned commissions, and saw no reason why the civilian clothes he ordered at the store shouldn’t be paid for by some mysterious friendly person—identity unknown—but shrewdly suspected to be Mr. Joseph Simpkins, Mr. Hogan’s runner. Weren't there to be any cakes and ale in New York simply because a highbrow happened to be mayor? Were human kind- ness, good nature and generosity all dead? Would he have taken a ten-dollar bill—or even a hundred-dollar one from Simpkins when he was going to be a witness in one of been case

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Prete oat wines, TRROWN = , THE SATURDAY EVENING POST He Toid Her That Tony Could and Would Rot in the Tombs Until Such Time as She Procured Three Hundred and Fifty Dollars , ) cases. Not on 't! He didi wheel of wasn't He was just a cog in an When the wheel down on his cog he automatically did his part. I perceive that the police are engaging too much of our ‘ry on to Tutt and Mr. Tutt. But it iry to explain why Delany was so ready to arrest Tony Mathuss into the station house he beckoned to Mr. Joey Simpkins, who 1 ynt of the deputy sheriff's office, and whispered behind his hand, ‘All right. I’ve got one your life! He ’t have to be. no Crook, ‘ crookedness came , and why as he dragged him for you!’ ’ Then the machine began to work as automatically as a register. Tony was arraigned at the bar, and, having given his age as sixteen years and five days the “malicious destruction of property, 4 glass window of one Karl Froelich, of the value of one y hundred and fifty dollars.” Mr. Joey Simpkins had shouldered his 1 rough the smelly push and taken hi tand beside t} Idered and half-fainting boy q It l right 1 Leave it to me,” he said, encircling irm. Then to the cler} Pleads } . 2 laint, in which that he had utcher said he’d ed over the comp ! h trouble, had sworn he brick. Hadn't the t t let the Dutchman out of a possible trot Then the magistrate looked down at is boy?” he asked sharply }} He's a gangster. Admitted it to me \ y ver sixteen?” suddenly demanded the idge, who knew and distrusted Delany, having repeatedly ted ir court it he wouldn't hang a yellow dog his tes y. The underfed, undersized boy did not »ok more 1 fourtes Yes, sir,”’ said Tor I was sixteen last week.” ¢ ‘Got anybody to defend you?’ H Tony looked at Simpkins inquiringly. He seemed a very t nd gentlemat “Mr. Hogan’s case, | ‘x make the bail as low as you can.” Now this judge was a political accident, having been ttehf Di forked into office by answered Joey. ‘Please judge, the providence that sometimes watches over sailor and third parties. Moreover, in spite of being a reformer s fool, and when the other reformers who were fools got promptly fired out ippointed by a supposedly t drunk I e was nobody . 1 , of office he had been 1 crooked boss simply because, as the boss said, he had made a hell Tony quailed. He feared and distrusted of a good judge and they needed somebody with brains except the kind Mr. Simpkins. He suspected that here and there to throw a front. Incidentally, he hada judge of t: to railroad him. swell cousin on Fifth Avenue who had invited the boss and “No! No!” he whi his wife to dinner, by reason of which the soreheads who lost out went round asking what kind of a note it was when a silk-stocking crook could buy a ten-thousand-dollar job for a fifty-dollar dinner. Anyhow, he was clean and clean-looking, kindly, humorous and wise above his years- which were thirty-one. And Tony looked to him like a poor runt, Simpkins and Delany were both Froelich wasn't incourt,and he every body, mooth pered to the aw) I r. “I want my mother should be here; , he knows I was in my house. The rabbi, he judge heard and It was no use ve me a good chara‘ ed hi he children of « er. bombazine-covered 3; were n their generation than the children of light “Five hundred bail,”’ he “Officer, have your witnesses ready to proceed to-morrow dollars remarked shortly afternoon at two o'clock “Mr. Tutt,” said Tutt with a depressed man ner as he watched Willie remove the screen and out the for the firn daily five i conference in the senior ] rascal sensed drag old gate-leg table ere, He have turned Tony out he had any somew Oo clock ea ar ‘if aman called woul s office ? on the run had ou a shyster what would yo do about it?” The eld aring?”’ he ¢ Tony in an encouraging tone “Mr. Hogan can’t be here until to- mediate he Tutt inquired “But suppose he morrow morning, interposed Simpkins ‘*Besides, we shal want to produce wit Make it to morrow afternoon nesses judge.’ Judge Harrison leaned forward ** Are wouldn’t prefer to have the hearing now?" he inquired you sure you with a smile at the trembling boy. “Well, I get Froelich if you're going to proceed now,” spoke q up Delany. “And I'd 4 to look up this want to here ,. ; 2 aks : Tu 1; , 7 ‘ like AR WI weiter am BEIEN — defendant's record at | 1 rt At That Moment M-. Tutt Took His Stand at Tony's Side Continued on Page 170 headquarter

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i4 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Postwar Conditions in Wo Fimamce EVEL-HEADED business | the 4 only solution I ow for t he world’s present financial diffi iti The problem of readjustment is not one for the few but for the many. It is not one for special methods It is not one man’s problem or one nation’s problem but all the world’s problem. It is not one merely for ministers of finance, for bankers, business men and economists to olve, but one in which all people must bear a greater or maller part That is why level-headed business is the only method big enough to cope with the situation. It is the normal way in which the vast majority of people naturally carry on their affairs, either through their own initiative or by ibmitting to abler initiative. The world could not have attained to-day’s advanced stage of progress if prudence and sanity and level-headedness had not dominated the tivities of men, outweighing all the blunders, all the wastefulness and inefficiency and folly that, it must be admitted, play a large part in human affairs. This natural ind dominating force of prudence in the world’s affairs is the unifying principle in human conduct that must be relied upon to bring about a resumption of normal national and international economic life Deep-Rooted Monetary Habits poansne is more point in asserting this plain truth than appears unless one stops to consider all the special meth- ods, artificial schemes and wrong-headed plans that have t a means for reéstablishing been urged since the war as commercial, monetary and social order in the world. The financial thinking of this postwar period has been varied In the belief of many, events have clearly demonstrated that the business organization which the world has built up through centuries of complex evolution and intense was wrong, and that now was the time to correct it at a stroke Thus some, focusing their minds on methods rather than principles, have contended that if we reverted to a tage of pure barter the worid’ financial troubles would disappear. Others have believed, and in Russia have acted on the theory, that if paper currency were issued in uch volume as to destroy the value of money the root of all evil would thereby be killed. Still others, applying themselves more particularly to the specific after-effects of the war than to general theory, have held that a can- cellation of all the world’s war debts would make possible a new deal all round o that the world could start out afresh, relieved at a blow of its war-born incubus of financial problem All these, and many other chimerical plans, visualize learly the expected effectiveness of the theories and methods proposed, and equally clearly the achievement of the result to be desired; but they do not give equal weight to the many steps, difficulties, impossibilities and unfore eeable conditions intervening between the start and the finish, between the proposal and the realization. They do not seem to take into account the fixed habits of millions and diverse minds through cen- turies of custom have gradually merged into a normal line of practice in carrying on dealings with each other by of people, whose many means of established and efficient business instrumentali- tic lo overthrow these established business institutions would mean to destroy this unity of action achieved through them, and to replace it with controversy. just to consider for a would be to seek to of mankind evolved and developed The difficulties involved would be greater than the difficulties they seek to cure; To abolish money, for instance moment the most radical proposal weep aside habit nee the most primitive times instead of making Il trouble this would make more iroubie in a world already sufficiently burdened with trouble. low hard it is to change the money habits of a people was pointed out in the recent report of the British Royal Commission against replacing the present pounds, hillings and pence money system in the United Kingdom “A large part, including the least instructed portion of the com- ome and expenditure in terms of and we are satisfied it is idle to expect that the public would readily accept the disturbance caused by the interference with their habits and the basis of their accepted notions of value by a change for which they have expressed no desire and which will not benefit them except in so far as they keep accounts. We are atisfied that its introduction would provoke widespread opposition.” The by a decimal system. The commission said: munity, reckor its in hillings and pence; hange proposed called for only a modification of a habit, not for its total uprooting—that is, merely for replacing the English system, which requires continual com- puting, with the decimal system, which is almost an auto- matic method of making change and computing values. Yet because it has become the habit of a people it is easier to stick to the harder way —a paradox of great truth, illus- trating the power of mass psychology and established habit, which many of those with sweeping remedies for the financial troubles of the times seem to overlook. To subject the business system of the world to any such strain as many of these remedies propose would produce social disturbances far in excess of any advantages theo- retically accruing. Even more important than this is the fact that the fundamental problem is not found in the institution of money or any other of our particular meth- ods of human intercourse. These methods are sound and of proved worth; it is in underlying causes that the fault is to be found and the correction must be made. Consider, for instance, the implications of the plan ad- vanced by some for the cancellation of all war debts. In nations governed by public opinion, expressed through the party system, no national policy can be carried out with- out becoming a partisan issue. No party could live that did what the majority of citizens aggressively considered contrary to their best interests. With this thought in mind, and also remembering that we are seeking less, not more, trouble, let us analyze what the cancellation of war debts would mean to the United States and to the world. The debts of a nation are the debts of its people. It is the people, each individual person among them, who must, one way or another, pay the nation’s debts, through tuxa- tion direct or indirect, whether it be called income tax, commodity tax, luxury tax, internal-revenue tax, stamp tax, tariff, or any other kind of means for raising public revenues Before entering the war the United States had a public debt of $1,208,000,000. The annual debt charges were $23,000,000. The debt per capita was $11.33. The annual public debt charges per capita upon the people of the United States were only twenty-two cent lf We Gave Away Eleven Billions f pare chiefly as a result of the war, the total gross public debt of the United States is $24,944,677,797. The gross annual debt charges are $1,792,300,000. The gross debt per capita is $230.50. The annual per capita gross public debt charges are $16.56. Of the gross debt $9,505,622,043 is due from the Allies. The annual interest on the Allies’ loans is being funded for two or three years as the Secretary of the Treasury shall decide, beginning with 1920. At the end of three years the total debt due from the Allies, including an estimated $1,409,799,058 of funded interest and present principal, will be a total of $10,915,421,101. Therefore, assuming, in order to give us definite figures to consider, that the proposed cancellation of war debts went into effect in 1922, the specific question involved for us would be whether the people of the Allies would pay that $10,915,421,101 or whether the people of the United States would pay it If the people of the Allies were to meet their obligation it would reduce our public debt by almost $11,000,000,000. It would reduce our per capita debt by about $100. It would reduce our annual debt charges by about $550,- 000,000. It would reduce our per capita debt charges about five dollars. On the other hand, if war debts were canceled and the whole of our public deht remained a charge against the people of the United States, these reductions would have to come out of the pockets of our own people. I have analyzed this proposal thus far not with the thought of considering the righteousness of the idea that the United States in this way should assume a larger part of the burden of the war; not with the thought of consider- ing its soundness as an international fiscal measure; nor with thought as to whether theoretically the world’s economic position would be bettered by universal war- I have analyzed the idea thus far merely to get it down to practical human terms—to a concrete proposition by which the psychology of the thing can be judged. Like other sweeping measures proposed, it should be judged as to whether in actual operation it would bring less trouble or more trouble to the world; whether it would solve the problem or complicate it; whether it is practical or impractical. As to the United States—this question as to whether every man, woman and child here should, in effect, each debt cancellation. By James S. Alexander PRESIDENT, NATIONAL BANK OF COMMERCE IN NEW YORK August 7,1920 have $100 added to his portion of the publie debt, instead of its being paid by the peoples of the Allies, could not escape becoming a bitter partisan issue, with unlimited opportunity for demagoguery. After all the bitterness, trouble and ill feeling engendered, not only within the United States but also as between the United States and other countries as a result of the many ill-advised things that would be said here in the heat of the debate on the subject, I am confident the proposal would inevitably fail in the end. The enthusiasm of war and the fervor of patriotism, which made people willing to tax themselves for a great national emergency, would no longer be present to impel them to tax themselves $100 apiece for the pay- ment of Europe's debts. This proposal as a cure-all for the world’s economic ills is a political impossibility and would fall short of its aims; it would not cure, it would aggravate Still others seeking comprehensive measures to meet the world’s financial problems have, instead of proposing to sweep aside existing circumstances and institutions as in the foregoing plans, proposed to organize existing condi- tions on heroic lines into special methods of carrying on international trade. The Return to Individual Initiative OR instance, shortly after the war many of us thought it would be practicable to make use still of the great spiritual forces roused by the war emergency whereby the people had been schooled and organized to work as a whole in achieving the great end of victory; personal habits, large and small business, social organizations—the resources of all these were virtually pooled to this great end and applied to it, whether in the form of buying Liberty Bonds, of devoting plant output to war needs, of eating less sugar, going without gasoline or of suspending sporting activities. It was thought that the reconstruction needs of Europe as a whole could be considered as a prob- lem that was but a continuing phase of the war, and that the financial, industrial and commercial forces of the United States as a whole could be unitedly applied to the problem. Naturally, enough, however, it was found that, with the subsidence of the fervor of war and patriotism, the public temper had changed. Business men who had been whole heartedly willing to subordinate self-interest and to co- operate in winning the war were eager, once the war was won, to return as quickly as possible to individual initia- tive, competitiveness and to the legitimate promotion of self-interest. That, of course, is a truer manifestation of normal human impulses than was the submersion of in- dividual ambition in a plan of national and international codperation. What was done easily under war conditions could not be done under conditions of peace. Aggressive- ness for individual success is the motive power of business; the enterprise, the energy, the development of national resources, and the exploitation of human initiative and ingenuity which have been inspired by ambition for achievement have made possible the present advanced stage of civilization. Once the war was won, mankind again needed the driving power that comes from a uni- versal struggle for self-advancement to supply its needs, rather than the admittedly ideal but nevertheless some- what abstract inspiration of doing things for the sake of humanity. It must be recognized therefore that in meeting the world’s financial needs we have got to get back to first principles of human ednduct and build our plans on that foundation. We cannot deny human impulses or even widely divert them from their natural channels. Therefore no extraordinary method of doing business, however ideal it may be, however perfect in abstract theory, can be an adequate substitute for individual ingenuity, initiative and ambition. We must take humanity pretty much as it is. We must use as our basis of action existing methods and machinery, existing habits of thought and existing ways of doing business. Enlightened political, social and business leadership can infuse them with a spirit of progressiveness and humanity; but established methods, which represent broad and deep economic principles, and therefore normal human conduct, cannot be swept aside. They must be recognized and utilized, and rationally, not radically, adapted to the new day’s requirements. For instance, the matter of the foreign exchanges repre- sents a phase of the world’s financial problem that is par- ticularly suggestive as to what can and what cannot be done. We have heard much of “correcting the foreign exchanges.”’ This phrase seems to imply that the foreign exchanges are a cause instead of an effect of the world’s present state of financial and business maladjustment.

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K) ’ The depression of the foreign exchanges in the United States is a strictly normal manifestation of the present lack of equilibrium in the relationship of exports and im- ports between America and Europe. A rather detailed consideration of some of the chief characteristics of foreign exchange and its function will make this clear. When ex- porters In one country sell to purchasers in another coun- try it is the custom for the sellers, instead of waiting for the purchasers to send their checks at the end of the month, to draw at once drafts, acceptances and other forms of nego- tiable instruments, payable to themselves or bearer, against those purchasers or their banks, for the amounts due. In the United States when these drafts are drawn in foreign money it is preponderantly in pounds sterling. That is, they are drawn in terms of English money on houses in London, which has long been the international clearing house of the world. These drafts are then sold in the American foreign- exchange market, which centers in New York, for what they will bring at the time of the sale. This, under ordinary conditions, fluctuates within narrow limits and remains _ close to their face value. The total volume of such drafts and other instruments for transferring foreign credits coming into the foreign-exchange market constitutes the supply of foreign exchange in existence at that time, its amount being dependent upon the volume of exports, or sales, to other countries. The foreign-exchange market consists, for instance, of checks payable in London, which bankers and others send there for collection or for the establishment of bank balances. Under ordinary circumstances, while Americans sell goods and securities and render services to foreigners, foreigners are rendering services and selling to Americans. Americans therefore have claims to meet abroad from their foreign creditors; to cover these debts they may negotiate drafts, acceptances or other forms of credits through the foreign-exchange dealers against the balances which those dealers have established abroad through the previous purchase of foreign exchange. Thus, while Amer- ican exporters sell foreign exchange, American importers buy foreign exchange. The former create the supply, the latter create the demand Why Foreign Exchange is Down | wale ye the war the supply and demand were about J equal, since the total volume of goods sold and services rendered to Europe was approximately equivalent to the total volume of similar items obtained from Europe. The difference in the two accounts fluctuated within narrow limits, because normal international trade was in approxi- mate equilibrium. The excess balances of indebtedness one way or another were settled by shipments of gold. This shipping of gold came when, for instance, an over- ipply of sterling bills in the New York market depre- ciated their market price to such a point that it was cheaper for London to incur the costs of transportation, insurance and loss of interest on gold with which to pay its debts here than to continue paying with depreciated ste rling bills. When the reverse situation developed gold flowed from New York to London. The foregoing describes in general terms what formerly took place in the prewar foreign-exchange market. It omits many technical details, that, however, do not alter the main thought here, which is to bring out the fact that foreign-exchange rates are not the cause but the effect of international trade conditions, The ordinary state of affairs here described has been greatly affected by war conditions, though the underlying principles still remain unchanged. In the first place there occurred enormous increases in the volume and value of our ex- ports to Europe; and also great decreases in our imports from Eu- rope. Reflecting this change in the relationship between imports and exports there came into our foreign-exchange market a vastly greater volume of drafts on Europe than there were Eu- ropean drafts on America, resulting in a far greater supply of foreign exchange than there was a demand for on the part of the Americans who had payments to make abroad. When the supply of any salable item exceeds demand, and there is no artificial restraining influence, prices fall. Therefore the price of foreign exchange finally fell, though for a time artificial expedients kept it from falling com- mensurately with the excess of supply over demand. During the first period of Europe's excessive war purchases from the United States, before America’s entry into the war, foreign exchange on Europe was kept from depreciat- ing to levels subsequently reached, by the excessive vol- umes of gold which Europe sent us to liquidate her adverse balance of indebtedness here, 1 until the time came when she 4 4 had sent us all the rold she / “pp USTINER San could a end- Oh By ing what might apace, CK : } be called the io a period of gold \ support. At \ about this point America entered the war and the Government of av ‘@ q's the United States, in addi tion to purchases for cash abroad for our Armies, ex- tended credits to our Allies to be used in their continuing purchases in this country. These Allied purchases there- fore, being paid for by credits established on this side, did not create an equivalent volume of foreign exchange, so that drafts which other- wise would have come from them into the market were in effect funded in long-time loans. This operation further postponed the development of a depreciation in exchange equivalent tothe actual trade inequilibrium. After that the extension of government credits by the United States ceased and there was nothing to prevent foreign exchange from coimn- ingintothe market in greater supply than there was de mand for it, reflecting the fact that Europe was cor tinuing to buy from us in greater volume than she was selling tous. In addition to this commercial cause for depressed exchange the The Downward Swing THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 15 uffered an additional depreciatior Foreign currencies suffered inter European exchanges from monetary causes. nal depreciation because of excessive issues of paper money, the reduction of the gold basis through those huge shipments of gold to America mentioned above, and by the Now, foreign exchange n terms of foreign abandonment of gold redemption. preponderantly calls for payment money, and since foreign money was below par, even ir its own country, foreign exchange also expressed that depreciation in market value here, in addition to the and underdemand. depreciation caused by oversuppls Price of Goods and Price of Sterling HIS has made it necessary for the American seller of goods to European buyers to dispose of his foreign drafts in the market at a depreciated value. In order to receive the full amount of his selling price for his goods he must therefore make up for this depreciation by adding it to his quoted prices to the European purchaser. Thus, if a man sells a lot of cotton to a London merchant for which he expects to receive $100,000 net, and if sterling exchange, at the moment he draws the bill, is quoted at $4.00 to the pound, he divided the 100,000 by four, which gives 25,000. In other words, he must ask the London merchant to pay £25,000 for the cotton so that he himself will reali $100,000 net when he sells the draft here. If sterlir gx eXx- change were at the mint parity of $4.86, as in normal time he would divide the 100,000 by 4.86 and draw the draft for the result, which would be £20,576. Therefore, even with sterling exchange depreciated to only $4.00, the (Continued on Page 84)

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1G THE SATURDAY EVENING POST August 7,1920 OPTH AF-ICAN LLOYDS, LTD. —— P By Ww, Lil. P., Jolam two bottles fashioned on the hip-pocket design, and whose corks were pierced with goose quills. Mistuh Smelt shaweteaates or watched the virgin whiteness of the ice flakes change to J. J. GOULD anilinie orange and green as Uncle Ep shook the bottles judiciously. “Li'l’ moh on de lef’ flank, thah, Uncle Ep.” “On de lef’ whut?” “De flank—dat’s a’hmy talk fo’ side.” “Heah?” “Thah. Dat’sscrumpchus. Watch out fo’ you doan’ let none o’ dat flavah git away thah, Uncle Ep.” ““Watchin’ like er hawk, Mistuh Smelt,” replied Uncle Ep, carefully folding the paper about the colorifie cube. “Thah,”” he commented as he handed it to the purchaser, <‘an’ watch out yo’self ’fo’ you gits dat vest ob yo'n all stain.’ ‘Watchin’ keerful, Uncle Ep,”’ retorted Mistuh Smelt, throwing back his head and allowing a stream of chilled and watery flavor to trickle from one corner of the paper down his throat. “Yah!” he exclaimed ecstatically. ‘*Makes yo’ th’oat col’ like ice!”’ He settled back against the wall and mumbled over a mouthful of snowball. ‘‘ How much Ah owes you-all, Uncle Ep?” “Two cents.” With a moist finger Mistuh Smelt fished in a pocket of his lavender waistcoat, extracted a dime, and tossed it to Uncle Ep. “Keep de change,” he added carelessly. “’Bliged, Mistuh Smelt,’’ replied the snowball vender, placing the coin in an ancient purse dangling from the handle of his cart, and slapping shut the cart lid. “‘ You’s a hot spoht.” . Mistuh Smelt wrapped his lips about three-quarters of a snowball and sucked thirstily. “Thass me!” he replied easily. “Yas suh,’’ he con-

“Nen Ah Has de Famous Pol'cy o' de No'th Af'ican Lloyds —de Cum'tative, Ge'metrical Pr'gressive Pol’cy, tinued, “Ah always wuz a hot spoht. An’ tippin’ “em "Plyin’ to Potks Leas'n Sixty Yeahs Ol"’ waitahs ov’ in ’em swell French caffays an’ ‘em English gal ba’hten’uhs made me wusser’n evah.”’ ISTUH SMELT ceased his complacent contempla that Mistuh Smelt was a man of the world. But the Afro- “You wuz a sojer?”’ tion of the cerulean skies and cautiously shifted his American man of the world remains forty per cent child “A hot one.” position, Which was the third time within half an even when his brow is wrinkled by the passing years and “Whuhbouts you fight?” hour he had moved to remain within the all too rapidly his hair is turned a patriarchal gray. “ Firs’ in Englan’, nen in de Bordeaux sectuh.”’ rawling shade of the pignut linder And Mistuh Smelt ta ta-ta, ta-ta. ‘“‘Nice col’ snowballs!” Ra ta-ta, ta-ta. “Kill many Gummins?” abhorred motion; especial] »on a blazing August after- ‘Nice col’ snowballs! Hod do, Mistuh Smelt?” “*Fo'ty-fifty, Ah reckin.” ion when the heat rebounded fiercely from the brick “"Do, Uncle Ep?” Uncle Ep was impressed. pavement and sent the searing air of Clay Street into Uncle Ep halted beneath the pignut linden and searched “Makin’ lots ob money, Mistuh Smelt?” he queried rages of undulating motior his coat for a handkerchief. “‘Wahm t’-day,” he observed, after a moment’s sweltering silence. From up Frankli treet way came the raucous blast of mopping his glistening brow. i fish | ! ra ta-ta, ta-ta followed bY a chanted call: “Pow’ful,” grunted Mistuh nowhall nice whalls.”’ Smelt, moving only his nether Avain Mistul elt ept the heaven with an indulgent jaw d complacent air. Not a cloud marred its brilliant blue ““Snowball, Mistuh Smelt?” ¥ ] unbroken dome * Double headah.”’ S j Rain,” he mused, “‘jes’ hol’ off twell t’-morrow night, Uncle Ep threw bacl in’ No'th Afican Lloyds am fo'ty dolluhs richeh. Mistuh — the lid of his cart and re Weathuhmar ay right!” moved a soggy layer of \ Ra ta-ta, ta-ta. “Nice col’ snowballs,” newspaper from the cake A vermilion four-wheeled cart pushed slowly out of of ice within. ‘“‘ Round or Franklin Street ane i down Cla prop led by a bent squah, Mistuh Smelt? i shambling d “Squah, Ah reckin.” whalls!"’ breathed Mistuh Smelt, smacking his lips. Uncle Ep selected the { ‘Nice col’ snow! ! cubical scraper and With anticipat delight he observed the crawling shoved it back and approach of the ‘ } irt and eyed the ray dly evap forth across the sur orating trail of « ric marked it wake The face of the cake. Even monot ous call « the ( ier horn was music to hi the rasping of steel eur " ren \ h thrilled his heart and set hi teeth against the ice gustatory nerves atingle had a cooling effect Nice cold snow ! Tempting cubes and globes of upon Mistuh Smelt, coolth and color, color and coolth! Shaved ice tanged whose eager eyes with fruit flavor! drank in the opera | Had Mistuh Smelt been cast for the part of Odysseus ir tior Uncle Ep in- the Hellenic melodr = Circe would have charmed verted the scraper i him to the lonel hores of Aiwa not | inuous endear over a square of ments but | mutel xtending a refreshing dainty fash manila paper, tapped ned out of ambrosial snow and flavored with loganberry it with the horny heel ia ectar from the Olympian Flavor Factory Had he lived of his hand, and a \ before his day and played the part of a haple boatmar nowy cube of shaved Lorelei, combing her golden hair, would have been but a ice slid forth. He re- W easual bit of cenery worthy of or ly au earching look peated the operation ‘ and a grunt Rut let her comb become an ice shaver, “Whut flavah, Mis- and her golden hair a cake of artificial ice Eneugh! tuh Smelt?” \ Even Wolfgang Goethe with his weeping Imaginatior “Whut flavahs has would have stood aghast at weaving a ballad from such you? , material! “V'niller, pep’mint, \ Despite his patent worldliness, despite his familiarity ‘n’ or’nge, leming, ’n’ . with the more exclusive, expensive and smiled-upon means | strawberry.” f of gratifying the appetite, Mistuh Smelt had a warm spot “Gimme _ pep'’mint ct { in his heart—or shall I say stomach?—for the plebeian ’n’ or'’nge.”’ oS anal a + nowball on which the infrequent pennies of his Chat- From the cool <4 ee : _ ) tanooga boy hood days had been riotousls spent \ single de pths of his cart Mistuh Breckenridge Was Rapidly Recovering the Breath He Had Recklessly : glance would suffice to convince even the most unworldly Uncle Ep extracted Dusty Streets. “‘No, Suh! Foh Aces! j 4 ( ‘

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ee Right smaht.”’ “Nice sign you-all got dah.” “Cost me thutty bucks.” Mistuh Smelt proudly surveyed the smalt and gilded sign which graced theentrance to North African Lloyds, Ltd. NORTH AFRICAN LLOYDS, Ltd. LLOYD SMELT, Sole Owner & General Manager & Proprietor. Life, fire, tornado, act of God insurance. We insure anything once. No risk too large. No risk too small. Beautiful green and gold policy. Framed free of charge. Let us protect your future. Cheap. Safe. Try me out. LLOYD SMELT, General Manager. ““You’s de sole pr’pri’tuh, Mistuh Smelt?” “*Can’t you read?” “Not ’thout mah specks” —resentfully ‘sures, Mistuh Smelt?”’ curiously “Anything an’ ey’thing.”’ “Fer zample?” “‘Well, fer zample, you thinks yo’ goat’s gwine to git de *fluenza an’ die. You comes to me, and fo’ a scientific’ly ‘rived-at premium Ah ga’ntees to pay you-all de value o’ de goat should he demise.” “*S’posin’ de goat die?” *‘Ain’ Ah said you gits de face value o’ de policy? “An ef he doan’ die?” “Den Ah makes money.” ““Whut’ll hit cos’ me to ’sure mah goat?” ‘‘Ah’s got tosee de goat. ’Scort him roun’ some evenin’.”” “Fer zample, ’gin?” “Well, fer zample, Ah’s ’sured de Franklin Street Church ‘ginst de rain at they picnic t’-morruh.” “*Splain on, Mistuh Smelt.” “‘They’s rented Sugah Grove, hired de ’scursion train, boughten lots o’ ice cream, ’n’ b’loons, ’n’ watahmellins, ’n’ sich, figgerin’ on a big ’tendance. Ef hit rains they stands ter lose bout foh’ hun’erd dolluhs’count no ’tendance. So Bruth’ Peebles ask me will Ah ’sure de chu’ch ’ginst de rain. Bein’ de No’th Af'ican Lloyds, Ah does.” *“You does?’’ ** Ah does.” “How much dat ’surance cost de parson?’ ““Fo’ty bucks.” “"N’ if come rain, you pays de Franklin Street M. E. Chu’ch foh hun’erd dolluhs?” “‘Zackly.” ““How you-all know how much to cha’ge fo’ dat ‘Uh, whut you M. E. *sur- 9 ance “Ah consults de weathuh maps, an’ de table o’ probilities, an’ ’en follers mah hunch.” **Ain’ you-all li’ble ter lose?”’ Dissipated in a Mad Sprint Over Two Miles of Hot and An’ They’s Ali Biack!"’ THE SATURDAY EVENING POST “*Ain’ los’ but once yet.’ “Jes lucky?” “Jes natchelly bo’n lucky, Uncle Ep.” “Sorter shootin’ craps wit’ de weathuhman, eh, Mistuh Smelt?” understandingly. “Zackly! Sorterside-bettin’ ten to one dat it doan’ rain.’ Uncle Ep grasped the handles of his cart and prepared to get under way. he said, shoving off into the merciless sun; “a gamblin’ fool!” “‘Gamblin’ fool Ah is. Ah reads ’em right.” “’Day, Mistuh Smelt. Thankee fo’ dem eight cents.” “’Day, Uncle Ep. Doan’ mention it.” The general manager, et cetera, of North African Lloyds, Ltd., shifted his weight to his left foot and licked the last saccharine trace from the manila paper, which he tossed into the powdery layer of dust beyond the curb. With a purple- and-green silk kerchief he dried his fingers and wiped his anthracite coun- tenance. He tucked the kerchief into a breast pocket of his smartly tailored maroon suit, bestowed an approving glance on the sun, and relaxed grate- fully against the wall. “‘Mistuh Sun,” he chuckled, “‘jes poke dat ol’ face ob yo’hn inside mah winder t’-morruh mo’ning and whispuh, ‘Git up, Lloyd, and bank dem fo’ty bucks.’ La-la. Gamblin’ fool. Yassah!” And he hummed An’ when Ah rubs dat rabbit foot, De gallopers gits right, Dey sebens and dey lebens F’um de mo’nin’ twell de night; When shoes an’ booze am awful dear, Ah shoots mah dice to win; *Cause Ah’s a rarin’ gamboleer, aie weer N’ a son of a gun fo’ gin. u ” ISTUH SMELT?” Mistuh Smelt blinkingly opened his eyes and surveyed a rabbit-faced gentle- man whose complexion paled the inside of a tar kettle, whose shepherd’s-plaid suit hung hopefully on his diminu- tive frame, and whose tones carried a causticity bred of impatience, “‘Fo’ de fo’th time Ah asks you, is you Mistuh Lloyd Smelt?” Slowly it dawned upon Mistuh Smelt’s well-baked com- prehension that the shade of the pignut linden had shifted to the east, leaving him to stand asleep in the sun, that someone had been plucking aggressively at his sleeve, and that the someone was the gentleman whose nose was thrust dangerously close to his chin. He gingerly shifted his lame back, scrootched his throbbing neck, stretched his muscle-bound legs and moved into the shade of the doorway. ' His eyes burned, his collar was limp, his cerise silk shirt clung damply to a spot between his shoulder blades, and his mouth had a chalky taste. To the undersized gentleman who had interrupted his nap with unwelcome abruptness he replied sharply, “‘An’ fo’ de fo’th time Ah tells you Ah is!’ ““*Nen step f'um outen de heat inside and lemme ax you-all some q’estions. Ah’s a customah.” “*Come right in, suh,” exclaimed Mis- tuh Smelt, backing into the dim interior and glowing with sudden cordiality. “Step right in whuh’t’s cool an’ nice,” he continued, leading the way to the rear of the office. “Step right hin’ de railin’, please, an’ set yo’self down, suh. Lemme staht de licktric fan. Thah! Pow'rful wahm, sleepin’ out in de thah,” he said, sinking gratefully into his swivel chair and plying his kerchief. “‘ Li’ble to ketch me de sunstroke.”’ ‘““F’m de way yo’ mouf wuz gappin’ open,” retorted the visitor, “de linin’ o’ yo’ stummick’s li’ble to be all tan up.” “Thass a trick Ah has.” “Den jine a circus an’ git rich. “Huh, you’stoofunny.” A pause. ‘‘Ah does feel kinduh wahm inside, de truf,”’ began Mistuh loosening the mother-of-pearl buttons on his waist- “Er—uh,” he continued, “‘you— desires to see me p’fesh’nally?” ‘Yassah,” replied the visitor briskly, ““Ah does. Maname am Breck’nridge Ho’ace Hancock Breck’nridge. Ah un’- stan’ you insu’ahs anything. Am dat right?”’ ““C’reck.”” un, Smelt, coat. uh “You's a hot spoht, Mistuh Smelt,” “Sign on de Dotted Line,"’ Urged Mistuh Smelt, “You insu’ an’ “* De sign on de do’h sez de Transraction am Complete" sech house} came the retort, once, p's idec an ‘"ginst de rain an’ de iol’ pets dyin’, ‘ginst ach anythi Mistu ‘al * de xz! a vat I ir premium am atisfuct r ir i de huntin’ fo’ p’teckshun “Ah is.” “’Ginst which? **’*Ginst mah luck.’ “Yo’ luck? “Ya yo’ “g Zack ah, ’n a crap game.’ “You mear f'um de terbacca mahself a palm, Ah done de way down, : dat mulberry up on Fulton Street by de trestle reads seven all roun’ fo’ me, an’ Ah feels mean,” Nen why fo’ you comin’ heah fo’ p’teekshur a e they’ ps "tr n de mouf an’ le diy mah 'ooman knows dat Ah mah bonu Ef A} ‘thout dat bonus Ah walks right out ag'in. Fo’ bonus means no bed an’ boa’d.’ **Ah un’stan’, though I ain’ married,” cor “How much you-all cha’ge fo’ to write me p’tecken’ me ‘ginst row o' craps er a passin’ fo “That depen’ “On what?” “On how good you shoot dice “Ts you askin’ fo’ cha'’cter witne ““No, suh, Ah’s askin’ fo r ur nlo mat ““How you gwine git it?” “By shootin’ you yme dice right heah t “But Ah’s savin’ mah money fo’ t’-night! “*Cullud man,” exclaimed Mistul meit Ww “does you ‘spec’ me to issue a } or nevah yet saw?”’ He reached into } pair of transparent cubes and sug close to his ear “Ef you good, At ‘ cheap; an’ ef you got to weep to ce ‘ to 'tenshun, de premium rise Horace Hancock Brecke ige ‘ tened and he smacked |} | “*Gim’ dem dice,” he ¢ ma BE 8 his trousers pocket he brought f crackled enticingly. He tore one off re it on the worn pine floor. ‘“‘ A} he M I he exclaimed, rubbing the dice wn on | thigh, “‘ah wahr uu fai i h, when Al money wit’ de ly Ah jt ou wants me to p’teck e'llecks mah bonus o’ « fact nt’-night Ah’sg liv'de Mah right } assed fo’h wagonloads o’ "a Juney bug drap or Continued on Page 57 npty bar’l mah hat “an’ Lik th

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18 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST The Wonders of Washing August 7,1920 (= The Man in the Sack Suit=By George Kibbe Turner WYOMING away from Washington the sec- ond week in June I sat down in the diner pposite a man of about sixty-five in an l-time pepper-and-salt sack suit, one of it kind of loose dressers from the Middle West who still stand on their constitutional ¥ f not letting their tailors put cuffs on the bottom of their trousers, where Nature er intended cuffs to grow. It seemed he or had been, in the business of manu- facturing agricultural machinery I see Congress has shut up shop,” I said, tarting a conversation, “and going scut tling off to the national convention *Yes,"” he said, looking overat me; a quiet- ippearing old man, with wrinkles gathering in ound a bright little faded-blue eye ‘Like a lot of schoolboys,” I said, going or Dropping everything. After all their omises about what they were going to do for us financially, running off and leaving the country to lug round these Federal taxes for them, just as bad off or worse than we were before—to say nothing of a lot of worse troubles which might come out of it for us.”’ And I went on to tell him what I had run icross down there—about the way they all handled the Government’s finances. “‘Bil- lions,”’ I said, ‘going out, with no head nor tail nor management toit. You think at first ou've struck into a madhouse.’ He smiled now, a kind of still dry smile his close cropped beard And especially,”’ I said, “since this war If Washington don’t get down to business pretty quick and wind this war up, and these they'll bust u war expense ill sky-high.” ‘It's a bad combination,” he said, talking finally ‘What is?”’ “Washington and war.” Are they crazy down there or am I?” “Neither one,”’ he told me, “I guess. Only you don't get their viewpoint. You don't get the clew to this at first-—-about how they work Have you ever watched Washington at work, close to?” he asked me ‘No,” I answered him, “I never had the time to.” Queen of the Antipodes NEVER had,” he told me, “till this vear tut this winter | had to lay off and I've been down there a good share of the time visit ing my daughter, who's married to a congress man ‘You must have got a good look at it ‘I did, I guess,’ he said again, smiling that juliet mile he had ‘What's it like,”’ I asked him, “when you ee it from the inside?’ ‘Yo remember he isked me iulter a minute or so, ‘““when you were a boy stud ing geography the first idea you got when you heard about the Antipodes, where everybod le down to vou?’ ‘Yes,” I said, grinning ‘Well, that’s Washington,” he told me I vet he *What is?” I asked hin "She the queen of the Antipode . “The queen of the Antipodes, huh?” I said, looking it him ‘Where everything's upside down. Where everything just the opposite of what you thought and what you've heen told all your life by all these speakers and writers on the subject and what you've got a right to expect from your own experience I looked at him again, and I recognized him — his kind I saw he was one of these old-timers you see in almost every American small town—lean, wiry, independent old nen, made up of leather on a hickory frame, who figure ut things for themselves and have their.own way of expressing them ‘The queen of the Antipodes?”’ I repeated, aiming now to get him started. “Everything upside down; huh?” And all perfectly natural, from their viewpoint.” Let's take a look at it,”” I said. ‘ What is it?” “Look. Put it this way—or the way it comes to me,” he started in to explain, “through my own experience. I was raised on a farm in Indiana. We had it pretty hard. We earned our bread by the sweat of our brows—and of a couple of mules. But take it the year round, and we sweat more by the gallon measure than the mules. And we got out of it, when it was all done— what? What did we have in the end as the net re- sult of all this? What did we have as our final produce to sell?” “Grain, I suppose,”” I answered. ‘‘Orsome food of some sort.’ ‘Yes,”” he went on. ‘Say food in general. That’s what we produced finally, when we had good luck. We turned out food of one kind or another and sent it to the city. To get money to buy clothing, and all that.’ I nodded at him. “‘Now then,” he said, ‘after that, when I was more of a boy and I first got into Chicago, I remember, just like yesterday, the thing that kept me surprised and wondering all the time was how all those people in all those houses got their living—what they raised, what they produced. It is now, to a great ex- tent. But I know now, in a general way.” Just Ultimate Consumers P ST what are you getting at?” I asked. “They produced something tangible with their hands, didn’t they, just as we did? They manufactured something— which they tell me means the same thing as ‘make by hand’—to trade back to the country for the food which we brought in to them to eat.” “That’s where the factory whistles come in?” I said, still watching him. ‘“'Phat’s what I’m trying to say,” he told me. ‘A natural normal city, like the country, makes something with its hands—produces something tangible to trade back for its eats. And it ships and pushes along with its hand the various things that other people produce. And at certain times of the day you'll hear the whistles shouting that the work’s beginning or the work’s done.” “And Washington?” I said, bringing him back. “Washington,” he answered, “of course, produces nothing in the line of food, any more than any other city, and it handles nothing through. It has nothing tangible whatever to trade for its living—it’s not a producer in any way. It’s a dead end for production—always taking in and never putting out.” I nodded again at him. “You remember,” he was going on, with that faint dry old smile he had, ‘those days of the old tariff debates and old Tom Reed's remark about the ultimate consumers—how there was evidently a large class in the United States that just sat in the sun and consumed.”’ “Yes,”’ I told him, grinning. Warthington Monument, Looking Through Cotonnade of Treasury Building [ was like vou,” he told me. “TI was all up in the air I got my first clew.” What was that?” ‘Whistles,"’ he said, looking across at me with those harp, bright faded-blue eyes ‘Whistles?’ I said after him. ‘Did you ever hear a factory whistle there—in Wash- rton?” he asked me ‘I don’t know as I ever did,” I said, thinking ‘It’s the only good-sized place in the country where some good share of the folks, anyway, ain’t waked up at from half past five to seven o’clock and sent to work every morning by some bell ringing or whistle blowing.”’ ‘That's true, I guess,”’ I said, watching him. “But I never thought of it especially.” ‘It’s more than that. It’s the one place of its kind, of any size, in the civilized world,’ he went on to say, “‘as far as I can find out—even including St. Petersburg.” ‘I don’t know as I get you yet,” I said to him after a while “Well,” he said, “‘that’s Washington. You said you didn’t understand it. I didn’t my- self until I’d been there a couple of months. I thought I was crazy, just as you did.. But finally I got this clew That’s Washington—mentally, morally and physically. It’s the town of the ultimate consumers.” I grinned again. “‘And the only one, as far as I can learn, in the known civilized world.” “Ts that right?” I asked him. “You know how they built the place,” he said, looking over, ‘to order, down there in these open farm lands on the Potomac, to be the seat of the Government—the capital of the country?” “Te. “The other national capitals of the world grew up, it seems, in regular normal commercial and manufacturing cities. I’ve been in quite a few of them myself—in London and Paris and Berlin. I thought for a long time that St Petersburg—or Petrograd, as we've got to call it now would be more like Washington, being made to order in something the same way. But they tell me not. They say wut SE.

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a regular commercial, manufact uring, shipping city, like the rest, where the government is in wit! 1 and gets In h with the regular life of the rest of the country that’s g for a living. So that leaves Washington, just as iid, in a cla by itself—all government All con mers—four hundred thousand strong. The only gen ne, Simon-pure hundred per cent city of ultimate f ‘ t la nsun as I can learn, in the civilized world.” ‘““Well,’”’ I said to him, “where does that leave us?’ ‘It leave us,”” he told me, “just as I said in the first place, with the queen of the Antipodes, where everything 1 ‘How do you make that out?” I asked him. “Why wouldn't it be,”” he asked me back, “where all i es of life are upside down—where ordir YT everybody's making a business of consuming as hard as he ‘ place of producing? Getting his living by it?” Get his living by consuming?” I said after him. topped short. I sat and gazed at d he gazed ba ‘we're both through here; what do you say we go back into the smoking compartment together and you work out this idea of yours a little more And we paid our waiter and went ‘I mean it,” he said, after we’d gone in and sat down together. “Just what I said. Everything down there in Washington is just exactly the opposite of what you think 1 you're led to expect by what you hear and what you read about it. And what’s more, I can prove it to you out All right,” I said wn mol ““Go ahead— prove it. A Congressman’s Chief Business tance, take the thing I’ve a _.. he went on, “‘for ir seen closest—through my son-in-law there in Con- gress! What in your idea would be the main important business of a congressman? ‘I don’t know,” I answered him. ‘Speaking perhaps considering and debating public questions.” Ah-ha!”’ he said. ‘‘And where would you expect to when they’re attending I mean, of course, when Con- ee them when they’re busy ‘I suppose, naturally, on the THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ore ** Debating—listening to debates? I suppose so.”’ “Ah-ha! That’s what I thought at first.” “At first?” I said after him. “Did you ever see them,” he was asking me, drifting in after lunch with their toothpicks in their mouths and sit there lounging with their knees up against the seat before them—a little handful on each side of the House, talking and whispering and reading newspapers while somebody was speaking?” **eome “T’ve seen them,”’ I said; ‘“‘yes. And those empty seats round them. It’s a shame, with the business of the country on their minds tod and us all waiting for them to do something and three-quarter 3 of them absent from their yhs.”’ jobs ‘I’m not so sure about that,”’ he told me “*Not so sure about what? “About that preving what you say. Do they look to you like men who are busy as they sit there?” “They certainly do not,’ I said. “That's one thing I’m kicking at.’ “They wouldn’t, in my opinion.” “Why wouldn’t they?” “Well, the fact is,” he told me, “that’s the place they come—the House and the Senate chambers—the rank and file of them—when they’re resting and have got nothing else to do.” “‘Nothing else to do?” “Certainly,” he said. “You don’t think the average congressman's business is done in Congress, do you?”’ “Not in Congress?” “Certainly not. As a matter of fact, the less you see him there the busier he’s apt to be.” “The less you see him there,” “the busier he’s apt to be?”’ “Certainly,” he said. ‘‘ You know that as well as I do You know what his chief business is.”’ “If being in Congress isn’t his business, what is?” | asked him. “His main business,” he said, “is giving something away—of the Government.” “Giving something away?” “Especially if he’s successful.” “Go on,” I told him. “Just elaborate that a little if you don’t mind.” “You know that,” he told me, “as well as I do, if you'll only remember what you’ve seen.” “I do, eh?” I said. “How do I know it?” I repeated after him, +t ‘You've been in and out of their offices, | he asked me office buildings?” “Yes” “Well then, ganized for work in théir office you ought to know. How ordinary congressman's office-——what's the cl its business, on the face of it?” “I don’t know *T answe red, watching him the face. You take my son-in-law there in what’ tary, hasn’t he?” “Yes. They all have that, I suppose.”’ , day after da he got for office organization? He's “Over in those two marble Senate ar are are 7 “What “Well, it’s right there,’”’ he told me, “staring I got “And an assistant secretary and a stenographer one more perhaps than most have secretary and a stenographer time to himself a congressman’s got to have t handle and hold off his consumers.”’ “His consumers?”’ I said after him he’s fairly But the least you ought to get along with tw If he’s going to have ar a we Filling the Wants of 200,000 “TTMHAT he personally other words,”’ he said, in to see him.”’ “Well,” I said, “what of it?” represent write in or travel down to His constit ‘who are writing ir Wa hem there t “They don’t ngtor generally to give the Government anything, do they? “No. Not in my experience.” “Ne.” he said ‘Nine times out of ten when the ome to Washington they want something out of the Gove ment or they wouldn't be there.” ‘I suppose that’s true,”’ I had to admit. “‘There’s two hundred thousand odd—all potential con sumers, I call them, to a congressional district 1 where there there'll always be somebody wl want omething from the Government every day. And the go, when they want it, naturally to just one pla the only one they know.” “Their representative in Congress?” I guessed “Yes. They’re liable to want anything from getting their boy’s body home from France to getting started or the way to pick up a government contract. And the naturally come first to their congressman.’ “Naturally.” (Continued on Page 107 COPYRIGHT BY UNDERWOOD & UNDERWOOD, NEW YORK CITY President Wilson Addressing a Joint Session of Congress

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20 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST August 7,1920 Maroon-Colored, With Wire Wheels keN aid Trixie de Lashmut, burying f iy her impertinent little nose in a huge j bunch of lilacs, “do not elope with } women profe ors.” Mi de Lashmut, musical comedy, Bediime, might have done tarring in that popular everal other intriguing things as she flung this hallenge to the morning reader. She might have extended a silk-clad ankle. She might have taken a card from the envelope handed her I her maid, looked at it, slightly raised her per ed eyebrows, and tossed it aside, saying, over er shoulder, as she did so, “No answer.’ She might have buried her nose in the huge bunch of American Beauty roses which her maid handed to her, after unwrapping them from flo rists’ tissue paper. If all the things she might have done, however, are to be enumerated, the fact will remain unknown that Miss de Lashmut never uttered the challenge, and that though her ose was littie enough and impertinent enough she did not bury it in a huge bunch of lilacs because there were no lilacs There were no American Beauties either, and there was no maid. Miss de ashmut’s ankle may have been silk clad, but that cannot be verified, as she was wearing fur Juliets. She had to wear them because of a tendency toward rheumatism. Yet the Morning Clarion printed the whole quotation, women professors, nose, lilacs and all, in its Friday morn- ing issue It was the final sentence in Hilma Harding's prightly interview with the well-known stage favorite whose last appearance in West Sconset had been in that phenomenal success, Where's Your Wife? that made four hundred successive appearances in New York before it got out on the road at all ‘For goodness’ sake, Hilma,”” Miss de Lashmut had urged at the beginning of the interview, readjusting the hot-water bottle under her left cheek, “don’t tell the world Fix me up something | had a tooth out this morning young and chee ry * “How about a word concerning the late lamented?” uggested Hilma Harding. ‘It might be good press stuff.” ‘About Harry?” Miss de Lashmut sighed. “No, the publie’s getting tired of family rows. I'm sick of them myself. To tell the truth, I'm sick of men. Don't print She sent an alarmed glance over tha edge of the hot-water bottle Her old friend surveyed her thoughtfully “It’s your teeth,”’ was her sapient comment What you need is an interest Miss de Lashmut groaned ‘I certainly do. When I think of going on to-night and nging I've a Husband Behind Every Door for the three hundredth time,” she sighed again, “not including en- cores Maybe it is my teeth, but it’s lost all excitement that, though.” * Listen. for me Hilma Harding sat up and fixed a brightly hypnotic eye upon Miss de Lashmut’s downcast face “When you sing that song to-morrow night,”’ she di rected, “‘you sing it right at Section E, Seat Eight, Row Six, in the balcony.” Why?” Miss de Lashmut queried without interest * Because, my dear girl, sitting in that seat will be three thousand dellars; seventy thoucand gd and seve i as i “I'l Take You Home. It's a Nice Night. Mebbe You'd Ride Round a Littie"’ By GRACE TORREY ILLUSTRATED ar CHARLES D. in cash, and three hundred thousand invested in four per cents, just waiting to be gathered to some loving bosom.” Miss de Lashmut sighed again. “It’s funny,” she said, “but I can’t seem to quiver. You must remember I've had three husbands might say I still have fragments of Harry.” “But this one is different.’ Miss de Lashmut shook her head. “I've never seen one that was. Men are all alike, as And I may be said to have had experi- I suppose you I've seen them ence.’ She poked her footstool with an unguarded toe, and groaned. “Do you think having that tooth out will really help my feet?”’ Hilma disregarded this for greater matters. “No, but he really is different. He’s been in Alaska for fifteen years, mining. He's just struck it rich and come out to live. He doesn’t know one thing about anything, from finger bowls to light opera. He thinks woman is an angel. Ana all he knows about cars is that he saw a maroon- colored one with wire wheels on the street, and bought it right from under the man who was driving it.” “* Just because it was pretty?’’ Miss de Lashmut turned a languid eye upon her friend. ‘Just because it was pretty,” repeated Hilma Harding. “And when he sees you singing that song, he'll act the s#me way. I gave him my press ticket on purpose. I tell you, my dear, he’s the opportunity of a lifetime.” “You're certainly a good friend, Hilma,"’ said Miss de Lashmut. “ How old is he?” ‘“He’s awfully big and brown, and not bald or anything. He looks forty or something like that. But he’s really a child unborn.” Miss de Lashmut sighed. “I can’t seem to rise to the idea of a child unborn. Wouldn't it be a good deal of a strain? Hilma Harding began to gather up her papers “Well,” she said with meaning, “‘you can’t say I haven't done my best for you Miss de Lashmut sat wearily erect. Cuse rest er Tews MITCHELL “I’m grateful, hon- estly. I expect it’s that laughing gas he gave me. You fix me upa nice young-looking in- terview, something sort of hopeful and glad, and I'll do my best. Section E?” “Seat Eight, Row Six,”’ Hilma Harding prompted her. As she went away, she was feeling very sorry for Trixie de Lashmut. In the disagreeable midday light she had looked what no star in Bedtime can af- ford to look—tired, and sallow, and thirty years old. “She'd better nab him and retire,’’ Hilma told herself. “‘She’s losing interest.’”” At that moment she decided on the lilacs. Lilaes are a spring flower, and full of hope. The lilac idea occurred to Hilma at one P. M. At seven-twenty-eight the next morning Mary Elizabeth Williams, instructor in English, and Dean of Girls in the West Sconset Andrew Jackson High School, was debating with herself whether or not to have a second cup of coffee when old Mrs. Brandegee from her sunny window corner called over, ““Oh, Miss Williams! Have you read Hilma Harding’s interview yet?” “No,” said Mary Elizabeth Williams, with a brief smile. She and old Mrs. Brandegee always breakfasted alone in the big green-and-white dining room of the West Sconset Inn. They were as far apart as the geography of the room permitted, each at her own little table. Before Miss Wil- liams left, however, each morning, old Mrs. Brandegee always managed a little sociability. If nothing more passed between them she inquired, “ Well, Miss Williams, how are all the school-teachers to-day?” Miss Williams always replied that she thought they were all about as usual, and then their ways parted. Miss Williams’ way always led her to the Andrew Jackson High School by eight-fifteen. Old Mrs. Brandegee continued to sit in her sunny corner every day until the last boarder at the West Sconset Inn had breakfasted and gone, leaving her well started on her day’s chronicle of hotel whisperings On this Friday morning, when she had received Miss Williams’ brief smile, she went on, “‘It’s on the ninth page, third column. You want to read it. I'd like to know what you think of it.” As Mary Elizabeth Williams read the interview she could feel old Mrs. Brandegee smiling significantly behind her. She read it carefully. It was in Hilma Harding's brightest manner, and told how many offers Miss de Lash- mut had refused, to go into pictures, and how it was rumored that two prominent New Yorkers had met in mortal combat just outside her dressing-room door at the initial performance of Bedtime. The final sentence about elopement was the peroration of Miss de Lashmut’s expo- sition of a theory of charm. Mary Elizabeth Williams read it all. Then she said to her waitress, “I think I will have an- other cup of coffee.” SE

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| ( | } i | =e ee > — Sasi i As she went out, jacketed and hatted for her walk to the Andrew Jackson High School, old Mrs. Brandegee tittered at her, “What do you think of that about men not eloping with women professors?” Miss Williams sn ‘I think she was led at her brightly. bout right,” she said, and disappeared through the swinging door. “She was awfully upset,” old Mrs. Brandegee told General and Mrs. Peavy when they came to her table at twenty minutes past eight. “Did she have on that new plaid skirt?” asked Mrs. Pea y. Old Mrs. Brandegee remembered that she had, and a spring hat. “It seems to me,’’ was Mrs. Peavy’s comment, “that for a teacher in the publie schools she dresses quite ex- travagantly.” General Peavy, who remembered very well when the teacher in his district boarded at his mother’s home and got twenty dollars a month and was thankful, here re- minded them that Mary Elizabeth Williams was drawing down two thousand dollars a year of the taxpayers’ money } for spending her day in comparative idleness. She had to do something with her income. r “*So,”’ contributed old Mrs. Brandegee, “‘natu- rally enough, she puts it all on her back.” ' Mary Elizabeth Williams walking briskly to the i Andrew Jackson High School felt some such con- { versation going on behind her. Her mind, how- copper penny in a little silk bag that hung by a silver chain about her neck. She carried it there for six months, from the night of high- school commencement until \ Christmas vacation. She would never forget that warm June night, with honeysuckle drip- ping fragrance about her and Will Waterbury as they stood together on the front porch ‘ He had brought her home from commencement exercises. And he had kept the other half of the penny. WM hen she came back from college, at Christmas time, Will Waterbury was going wit! ie or. He had a place He was married to Carrie now, and had four children, anAire dale, a Queen Anne house and a seven-passenger Sizzer. in the Seaver bank. There was a Junior at the t 7] . itt } ‘ ] tate university who nad laid his heart and fortunes at her feet when she was twenty. H heart was glowing, but his for- 1es were little beyond a glee- club tenor and some skill with the mandolin. With this equip- ment he went into insurance, and later married, very fortu- nately, the daughter of his ’s chief. When it had ht down to the ques- tion of marrying her tenor she found that she really preferres a postgraduate year at col! company She had gone to his wedding and ha itnessed it without a heart throb. She saw the two drive when she came back by not long ago in his high powered maroon-colored car with wire wheels. Four years ago Hiram B. Prendergast, a prosperou West Sconset widower her to share his declining years She had thought about it fora asked week. It would have been a comfortable and perhaps brief episode. In a kind of panic, found herself near the she drew back. when she brink, This summed up the romantic history of Mary Elizabeth Williams. She wa neither homely nor disagreeable. She was thirty-two years old. As yet, men had assuredly never eloped with her. A great many men had respected her. High- chool boys confided their. troubles to her. Heads of English departments in had told her she different universities was promising material. A male editor had once written her an autographed letter, saying that the story she had sent him had charm and originality, and with the addition of a little heart interest would be readable. As a result of this life history she was a successful and unusually well-paid member of a profession in which men were never to be seen. There were only three men in the An- drew Jackson High School. One was old Mr. Briggs, the principal, who would hold his place until he died because he was the uncle of Senator Briggs. The two others might be called men, were they less dispirited. They were both married, fathers, and heavily in debt. every day but there was no prospect of their eloping with her Her mind, occupied with these thoughts, now became aware of Trixie de Lashmut’s impertinent little nose featured on the billboard in front of the West Sconset Theater. It was not the kind of nose, nor was Bedtime the kind of drama that teachers of high-school English are supposed to contemplate. She contemplated the nose for amoment. Then she went to the ticket window and bought a two-dollar seat—Number Seven in the sixth row of the balcony, Section E. Joy, guilt and despair rioted within her as she put the ticket in her purse. “Well, well, Miss Williams! I’m surprised at you!” Her public, close at her heels, took the form of the gleeclub tenor, himself intent on buying tick- She had not spoken with him fora year. She She saw these men et f blushed now, violently. “Why?” The hour was perilously close to eight-fifteen, but she took the time to challenge his surprise. “Got a box for four?”’ he said to the win- dow. Then: “Well, Bedtime isn’t exactly your sort of thing, is it? You used to be aw- fully highbrow. Browning and Ibsen.” ‘ ~ ‘ie te | oe oe ot Seb “‘When You Boys Were Freshmen and I Was Only Sixteen! My! It's Certainly Old Times to See You!" THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 21 He turned away, putting his four tickets in his pocket with an air of much satisfaction “Can't I take you along? Don’t you teach school near here?” She was beside him in his dark blue runabout when he went on: ‘You see, my wife’s in California. Tr xie when we were Fre to feel young again So four of us who men are going to sit in a box and try Gee, she was a peat h! But you ” He looked at he curiously. She laughed and told him she was making researches in youth. “Where's t cked the runabout at the hat wonderful new car of yours?” she asked Andrew Jackson High S ‘hool it? Sold it two weeks after I got it to llow from Alaska. Been mir ing up there for fifteen years or so. Struck it rich. Came back to the States to spend his wad. Didn't know ar thing about makes of cars. But he offered me anything I asked because mine was maroon colored and had wire wheels. I didn’t lose anything on him.” She thought he eyed her curiou as she said good-by, As she ran up the steps she could hear the runabout breath- ‘Peach, wasn't j a Rip Van Winkle kind of fe ing its exit down the sunny street. Inside it, she knew, he was remembering that she was Dean of Girls ing whether in that responsible position have her buying a ticket for Bedtime. He would have a daughter in the Andrew Jackson High School himself in three or four years. He didn’t know whether a woman who enjoyed Trixie de Lashmut was the kind of woman he wanted to have advising his daughter. The thoughtful shifting of gears with which the runabout rounded the corner and staried up the hill sounded as if its driver were distinctly disappointed in Mary Elizabeth William ‘A teacher in the public schools,” it murmured as it ran, “ought to feel that in a way she kind of takes the place of a parent.” For the rest of that Friday Mary Elizabeth Williams kind of took the place of a parent to eleven hundred gir] and wonder he quite liked to As instructor in English she had conducted, by three o'clock, four classes, one in The Merchant of Venice, one oral expression, one in the Victorian poets, and one in advanced composition Each class was overcrowded necessitating in a number of instances two in a sea \ the ventilating system elects on tl warm S| g d t t it the he it t yuld I pry ir Jar lary, and he ! regulations of West S« et forbade opening windows le the ventilating en commoded, the four ove crowded group of | ng i idents gen immered n (, he Wa elieved of the rema y two periods whic e should have eal argumenta n and ve thie place e cor fer 1and in a way t he place of a pare to fort even girls who boiled up to her notice out of the pot of he eleven hundred childre: s@ giris had piayed i lant, and it was the of Ma I ibe W to Know this and parents of the « ¢ ome had weak eye ind vus her function to a ‘ Y lasse pome were i V their studie nd I wiih her to i ‘ been f ting du be i t i One ‘ : h Ma | \ yer ir. F il Brigg Continued on Page 66

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SATURDAY EVENING POST August 7,1920 HIS is the = of an average man, told | f tf he ‘ é It ‘ i have been pe , i the pyre dic ef re have F , ‘ ¢ oid per il ‘ ’ ' | « t int to t elf la i ting, a ‘ i er for , elf t I do ! ‘ ‘ t of 1 ow i ind own | igri the rid i that I can te frill | ne hapy ind ented, nor area oft friend r the | e] vy. I re that I have met ( happ | ‘ ed man j ‘ e wa nded me r See! to a I don’t know what t But I do kr that we aren’t pulling towether; that wedon't eemtonave acommon iim or know where we on the train, and at a small country station in the middle of the night I was put off of the train. I got on the same train again be- fore it pulled out, only to be put off at the next station, and it was nearly morning be- fore another freight came along, when I had better success and fi- nally reached my des- tination, where I went to work chopping wood and splitting rails fora farmer. My roommate was to teach school not many miles from my location. He came on about three weeks be fore our schools were to open for the school year. He had _ been born and reared in the city and was not able to do hard work, and at hissuggestion I gave up my job and we started out on a cam- paign to sell political maps. It was during a presidential campaign. We had cheap but highly colored maps containing the pictures ire going. Wear none of tistied with our ‘ litior Wi I know that most people consider me a lucky man—especia he fe vs I grew up with. I'he t} k the wear 1 tear of life doesn’t touch me. J ippose IT have been luckier than some, but my days are ’ pent i te lof se N {that | expect u“ iybody to mopat} vith e. Th ot a hard-luck tale. But it the tale of a poor man, born poor, who has worked hard ill iife \ ) t rand who int to help othe r people who find getting on in the world as hard as I have f 1 it rhat, I th i fa tatement of my case e of Representatives and in the . I am a senator now Until the breaking out of the World War I was enate for more than seventeet ear ilwa ible t ‘ ething out of my salary. During ill of my public life I have devoted considerable of my ime. almost ij iriabl it my own expense, to campaign- 4” for me ind lt hat had the opposition of 30-called political leaders in n wn part When the high cost of living became a te | found it difficult to make both ends meet I was not able the city of Washington to live and iIpport my fan eve in the most modest way on my salary The meager ivings of a lifetime I invested in Liberty Bonds, and with the small income from this estment, even | practicing the most scrupulous me to kee p even, Lean Years in Washington | HAVE on a coat at the present time that was bought six years ago. At that time I bought a suit of clothes with in extra pair of trousers, I have worn this coat every ter for six year Miv wife used one pair of trouser to pats hup the other pair. She eventually cut up the vest to patch the coat, and f licat Wa I the coat will last me for at en wo WwW t t Few people realize ow senators are imposed upon } because enato I presume this comes ibout from the fact that in times past the Senate was in ility a millionaire ib, and it beeame a habit with ove ne to ove | ‘ i one vyho was a senator It ! ime a traditi that ll senator were rich Fy in ta e, | was rece a pelled to go to the dentist on int of havir he toothache He discovered—or at t he said he disec« ed—three cavitic three of my ba teeth. He filled them, and sent me a bill for $122. A senator who is poor and must live } alary cannot 1 ifford to be sick, An attack of appendicitis on a member of my family nearly kept me paving in monthly installments for IX mont? ( nym however, are as cheap now they were when I was working on the old farm, and no as t method has yet been discovered by the men who profiteer on senators to take away a luxury like this. It is not a difficult thing for me to practice economy. [ began life without anything, and have never had any- thing given to me. When my father’s estate was settled I got less than two hundred dollars as my share. I have known nothing but poverty, and would not enjoy luxury even if I could now obtain it. I have sometimes felt, though, that if I should suddenly fall heir to a million dollars the first thing I would do would be to hunt up a first-class restaurant and order a meal without taking into consideration the prices on the menu card. If I had any- thing left I would build a hospital with it. I never had any ambition for public life. I have ever held has come to me because of some incident that seemed to make it necessary for me to fight for the position, and yet I have never been elected when I did not have the bitterest kind of a fight. Before the days of the primary I was several times nominated when it was be- Every office lieved by those who nominated me that there was no show of election, I should have been retired from public office years ago had it not been for the primary system. I have never tried to keep up a machine, and have never Politicians of my district and of my state as a rule have been against me. I have disregarded them, and in the main have disregarded the platforms which they enunciated, though I do not mean to say by this that I have practiced deception in elections, I have always frankly stated where I stood on every ques- tion that was an issue in the campaign. I have been handicapped in my public life because I have so often come in contact with graduates of the great col- leges, and though I have not been so much impressed with their superior education or their superior knowledge, yet during all my life I have noticed that, everything else being equal, the man who is backed up with a diploma from Yale, Harvard or some other well-known college has a great advantage over the man whose education is limited and who has attained what little knowledge he possesses by his tried to control a convention. own efforts and sacrifices. \ good share of the time when I was in school I boarded myself, and though I perhaps did this mostly from neces- sity and poverty, yet I always enjoyed it, and never having known anything but poverty and hard work it never ap- peared to me that it was a sacrifice. I remember the close of one school year when I was left without money enough to buy a ticket on the railroad to the small town where I was to teach school during the next winter. I had all my earthly possessions in a small valise I had purchased at a I waited until after dark and crawled In some way the secondhand store. into a freight car loaded with wheat conductor or the brakeman discovered there was a tramp —’ Pe of the candidates, with the platform printed in red ink—one for each party. Armed with this material, we took the train and went about fifty miles away from where we were to teach, and commenced our work as can- vassing agents. The maps cost us twenty-five cents apiece, and we were selling them for fifty cents. My roommate was rather successful, but I was a failure at the business. As a rule the farmers where we stopped chided us because they said such healthy, able-bodied young men ought to be at work rather than traveling through the country trying to sell such worthless stuff to the farmers. My Corn-Husking Match E WENT over into a field one day where a man and his boy were husking corn. We discovered in con- versation with him that he was a Democrat, and then we showed him the beautiful picture of the Democratic candidates for President and Vice President, with the Democratic platform printed between the two pictures, all ready to hang upon the wall. He was very much interested, but finally told us that he would refuse to patronize worthless fellows who were going through the country and who ought to be at work in the field, as he and his son were, One of the things I always excelled in on the farm was husking corn. It was a natural knack, and even when only a small boy I was able to husk more corn than many of the men in the community. My roommate had never worked at husking corn, but I had worked on the farm asa boy, and had made up my mind from watching the farmer and his boy that I could husk more corn than they could. I told him this and, of course, it only made him more angry. But I finally proposed to him that he should put his boy in the wagon and I would take a row with him across his field, and that if I did not beat him husking I would give him a present of a map. If I did beat him he was to give me a dollar for one. This offer of a contest and wager pleased the farmer immensely, as he thought he had an easy thing. We put the boy and my roommate in the wagon, while I started in the race across the field. We had not been at it long before the farmer saw he was no match for me in the corn- husking business. If they kept the wagon up where I could reach it it was so far ahead of him that he could not throw his corn into it. This farmer never worked harder in his life, but I helped him out and kept him within reach. He was game, gave me a dollar and took the map, and then he proposed to hire me on the farm. I would have gladly accepted this offer and worked until my school commenced a couple of weeks later had it not been for the predicament in which it would have left my roommate, and under the circumstances I had to decline his offer. — ~~ as oe

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 23 During several winters of school-teaching I studied Blackstone, Kent and Chitty, and was admitted to the senior class in a law school, where I completed the regular law course. I taught school again in order to get money to start in practicing law. I used this money to buy a ticket for what was then Washington Territory. I was in Spo- kane when pine stumps were still standing in the main streets. I finally landed in Walla Walla with less than forty dollars of my savings. I failed to appreciate what the future had in store for this country, and decided I did not want to stay there. I tried in vain to get something to do. I finally hired out as a sheep herder, but just as I was about to start into the country with the outfit the owner of the sheep found himself able to make a contract with an old employee whom he preferred to me, and I was dis- charged without being given a trial. I then looked up the county superintendent of schools, and was able to convince him that I could teach school. He took a great interest in me, but said there was only one schoolhouse in the county where school was not being held, and that it was impossible to have school in that locality because there was no place for the teacher to board. This seemed to me an impossibility, and I told the super- intendent that if he would give me the necessary cre- dentials I would go into that corner of the county and make an attempt to find a living place. On a Saturday night sometime after dark I found the home of the man to whom I had a letter from the county superintendent. He told me frankly that though he was anxious to have a school, and had two children of his own who would attend, nevertheless there was no place in the district where the teacher could board. He let me sleep on the floor that night in the one room that served as parlor, living room and dining room, and the next morning bright and early I visited every. house in the district. There were not many of them, and they were widely scat- tered. Asa matter of fact, there were only seven children in the district, and under the law of the territory children of a certain age had to be dismissed at two o'clock, and under this rule there were only three pupils left. How the Tenderfoot Turned fT\O MY surprise and mortification, no one in the district was willing to board the teacher. I came back that Sun- day afternoon to the house of my new friend, who lived near a newly constructed railroad, and who ran a gang of China- men working on the right of way. As I walked down the track I saw an old shack of a building about ten by twelve. My friend had said he would be able to board me, but he had no place for me to sleep. He had only three rooms in his house, and his family consisted of himself, wife and four children. I asked him if he would not permit me to sleep in this old shack. He was very glad to have me do so. I took his hammer and nails and a few old boards and nailed up a bedstead. His wife took some pieces of cloth and sewed up a bedtick, which I carried over to a straw stack about a mile away and filled with straw, and thus furnished my new home. I became very fond of my landlord and his family. They were the only people in the entire community who had ever lived anywhere else except in that locality. The other people were old settlers, had been there before the railroad came in, and were in fact opposed to the coming in of the railroad or the settling up of the country. The terminus of the railroad was quite a bustling West- ern city. It was about forty miles farther on. The industry was principally lumbering, and in this town was located a brewery. It was to become the county seat of a new county, and my friend thought it would be a great place for me to open up in the law business. One Sunday bright and early he got some of his Chinamen on a hand car, and we made a pilgrimage to this new city. On the way up we gathered an addition to our force. It was the toughest outfit I had ever seen. Among the number was an escaped convict from the Oregon penitentiary, and about ten or twelve others equally bad—if not worse. When we got to the new town, though it was Sunday, the whole crowd went to the brewery, and I did not have an opportunity to examine the town, because when we left the brewery it was long after dark. The doors of the brewery were securely locked, because what was going on was entirely illegal, but the proprietor of that joint sold as much beer that day as he probably sold any other day in the week. I was regarded as a tenderfoot. I was designated by the leader of the gang as the schoolma’am. I realized I was looked upon with contempt by everybody there except my friend with whom I lived. Unfortunately this friend drank too much beer, and it was not long before I began to think I was entirely alone. We played pool, played cards and drank beer all day. I was the only sober man in the bunch. I know this sounds fishy, but it’s true. This was perhaps because of my fear rather than any virtue that I possessed. When they lined up in front of the long bar to drink I was declining beer and taking a cigar instead. Finally the leader of the outfit, noticing this act of mine, demanded that I take beer instead of cigars. He was as supreme in the control of his gang as the Czar ever was of his government in Russia. His word always went, and when he told the bartender that the schoolma’am must drink beer he expec ted to see his orders obeyed. I suppose I was just as tender and just as unsophisti- cated as they took me to be. The facts are at this time I was frightened nearly to death. I knew that every man in the crowd was armed, and I was no exception to this rule myself. I had always been very familiar with the use of a gun and a revolver, and in a modest way was quite a marksman. I did feel that I could shoot as fast and as straight as any man there, especially when I took their condition into consideration. Up to this time, though I had participated in the games and all that, I had not resented any of the slurs that had been heaped upon me or the sly remarks that had been made back and forth about the schoolma’am, but as frightened as I was, I had no inten- tion of drinking beer under coercion. I had no objection to drinking. In fact I had imbibed at the beginning as freely as any of them, but I knew —or at least I thought I knew— that my safety depended upon my keeping sober, and I made up my mind I was not going to drink any more. I very modestly told the bartender I was not going to drink any more, and asked him to give me a cigar. This enraged the big ruffian. He pushed aside three or four of his companions and started for me. As quick as a flash I stuck my gun in his face, told him to hold up his hands, and he stopped as suddenly as though he was facing a real bandit. While I had him in this position I called him everything I could think of. I used all the vul- gar language in the superlative degree I had ever heard in a lifetime, and made the air blue with profanity All this had a tendency to put me in good standing with the crowd. To my surprise my friend, whom I had supposed was too far gone to be of any assistance, revived sufficiently to expostulate with the big fellow I was holding at bay, and told them I was an all-round tough; that I was only disguised as a schoolma’am, and that I was a better and quicker shot than any man in the crowd. It all happened very suddenly, but the crowd was greatly impressed. The big fellow backed down, said the schoolma’am could have her way and did not have to drink unless she wanted to, and though they went to the bar many times afterward, I always pushed away the beer, and took a cigar; and there was no further interference with my liberty. The big leader always announced when he said that everybody must drink that the schoolma’am was an exception, and when we separated [ think if I had been an applicant for admission into this frontier organization there would not have been a black ball cast Revolver Practice in School ORE than twenty years after that day I was making I was billed It then had paved streets, fine every respect I slipped entertainment j campaign speeches in the same territory to speak in this same town buildings, and was modern in away from the local committee on reception and went in search of the old brewery. ing inquiry I found that most of the citizen quired did not know of a brewery that and In mak of whom I in had been located in that town in the early days But I found it finally, standing intact and used for some other and better pur pose than formerly. The schoolhouse in which I had taught was in the final stages of dilapidation and decay. It had never been plastered, but boarded up on the outside and inside. I remembered how the woodpeckers used to get in between the two walls by the dozen, and sometimes used to interfere with the children who were trying to study I used to practice shooting with a revolver at these red heads after sch were stuck through the holes in the wall, until I became an expert. It not only required straight shooting, but I had to shoot quickly, so Was vol when they (Concluded on Page 125

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> = 24 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST VI (Continued) O PRENTISS after this all days be- A languid, sensu- ous, jungle-born day, purring heavily, came as one day. By Helem Topping Miller rank with sweetness, enervating as the air ILLUSTRATED BY GEORGE zE. fa hothouse. He lost count of time, for- the idden drugged lassitude of the | tir many of the things which he had % j previously counted very important indeed LY \ ’ Rut hed not forget to write every night ve AN F f Most Big the ttle w iterproofed hook which wa \ \ j 7 j aomente are is much a part of him as his hat, which he — R ; | aa ae towed inside his clothes when he slept, oe OEP me having heard stories of devouring trop . a With Their nt And each night when he finished hi f Brows Teuched bit of journalizing he wrote decisively at ‘ by the Olym: the bottom of the page: ‘Start for the ist to-morrow vis And each morning he ok up anew the baffling battle with Mary Lassaigne “‘We leave to-morrow,” he told her every evening as she fastened her tent “I’mnot going,” wastheinvariable reply. ‘I said we were going.”’ Prentiss’ youth ful sternness would take on a sharp edge. ‘T hope you have a pleasant journey.” Avainst that wall of monotonous ob- tinacy Prenti arguments broke off hort, until the struggle wearied : him more than actual physical combat, Since the episode of the pistol Mary had been apathetic, till and stubborn as the implacable river She avoided Prentiss as much as possible and pent moat of her time on the river in the little teel boat. Sitting sull ily on the shore Prenti watched her master t current with a sort of grudging admiratior she belonged to the river— bare brown arm body poised with savage lightness, The boat was the core of their contention, the insewer to the riddle of Prentias’ patience. But for one thing he would have uprooted Mary Lassaigne ruthlessly from the poisoned soil to which she clung Mary carried the key to the boathouse, ” ind Prentiss was not i yet hardened to the , point that would jus tify him in foreibly warching the girl Remained the alter ’ “4 native of demolishing the boathouse. Pren tiss had debated over that, but a certain lingering gallantry urged further diplo macy. Hence the prolonged, almost wordless conflict ‘If those specimens don't get to Washington soon ’’— he employed every wile that he knew ‘they "ll be worthless.” The answer to this was silence, a brown cheek averted, the flash of a corning eye Prentiss knew at times the dazed awe of a conscientious parent for an amaz gly disobedient child. But he dared not force the matter, dared not tempt again that troubling ind shameful impulse which still left a hidden heat burn- ng within him as though his boyish soul lighted a contrite candle in atonement for an obscure sin. “If it’s because you haven't any clothes,” he was in- spired to say one morning, “you needn't worry about that. We'll buy some at the first port.” ‘Clothes?”’ She stared at him. “Clothes?” She leaped into the tent and dragged out a little leather trunk, furry with green-white mold. Lifting the lid the rusting hinges fell away, letting it clatter to the floor. pian Mists Prentiss saw that it was full of garments, gray with mildew. Mary lifted these out gingerly, with a bam- boo stick, and shook them until a cloud of dust set Prentiss to sneezing, and laid them upon the bed. A little middy suit of serge, a ruffled white dress green with mold, a scarlet jacket—pitiful, short, childish things—the wardrobe of the maid who had come trustingly into the jungle three years before, and whom the jungle had hardened into woman- hood. “Those things are too small,” Prentiss protested. ‘“ You couldn’t wear one of them.” She held the blue middy, dubiously streaked and stained, before her, measuring it against her body. Then before Prentiss could protest she snatched off the ragged khaki shirt, revealing muscular shoulders as ivory white as the meat of a coconut, garbed in a ragged undergarment of obviously masculine origin. Swiftly she jerked on the blouse and her face fell. The sleeves fell absurdly short of her wrists and the fabric was strained at the shoulders until every movement brought forth a sound of rending. WOLFE August 7,1920 “This was a pretty dress,” she said a bit wistfully. ‘The only pretty dress I ever had. Frank bought it at Port-au- Prince. I—I didn’t knowthat people grew like that!” In the end it was the devil who drove her, as Prentiss’ little birdlike mother would have said. Prentiss was working in Lassaigne’s farthest cane plant- ing at the point where the river fretted continuously at the impeding point of the island, when he saw her coming, crouched low in the boat, her paddle dipping frantically in silence, her eyes staring downstream, her face yellow-white as ivory and stricken with such fear as he had never before seen upon the face of a woman. She drove the little craft swiftly into the shelter of the cane. “*Get in!’’ she commanded tensely. Prentiss stared at her. “Get in!’ she repeated hoarsely. ‘‘We’re going. Down river!” Prentiss saw that she had loaded most of his belongings in the boat, but that she had brought nothing of her own save a black tin box which lay beside her on the seat. “Don’t talk!”’ she hissed as he opened his mouth in in- voluntary amaze. ‘Get in quick! I saw him coming downstream. I slid out of the cove and came all the way round. He’s rounding the island now.’ Can’t you see him?” Prentiss stooped in the cane and followed her finger Against the teeming crowding green of the opposite shore he saw a small boat creeping, keeping warily inshore, a furtive and unpleasant-looking craft. Two swart sailor rowed it, and Prentiss did not need to ask the identity of the man who directed them. Too well he knew the out line of that pulpy paunch, those fat shoulders! It wa Jesus Alvaso. Prentiss slid through the muck down to the boat. ““Give me that gun!” he said to Mary Lassaigne, but she held it away, her face ghastly white. ‘‘No, no!” she cried in a panic. “‘There are three of them. They would kill you—and they would not kill me! Get in—get in, I tell you!” There was utter sickened terror in her voice. Prentiss did not wait. He gave one reluctant look toward the white tent where Lassaigne’s work lay waiting in little labeled paraffin pots, and then he snapped off swiftly a dozen seed heads of the cane—Lassaigne’s pre- cious cane for which he had lived, for which he had died and wrapped them in his corduroy coat. Then stepping carefully into the boat he took up an oar. Alvaso was just landing at the little canvas boathouse when they drove the swift steel government canoe into the tugging heart of the current. The Chilean had not seen them. What his errand was Prentiss could only guess But he knew what Alvaso would find. A deserted tent and a grave. vir NDREW PAGET was restless. He straggled into his club late on a spring afternoon and flung into a chair. Outside the misty twilight was quenching a sunset made of gold drifts, and the soft hues of lilacs and a silvery light lay long on the hard streets. Somewhere in the forest of brick and steel a bewildered bird, astray, sang over and over a single aching measure It was spring. And Andrew Paget, who had indifferently existed through some forty glowing, mating springtimes, was feeling the loneliness, the tug, the glad sorrow and thrill of this spring with a keenness which he would not have admitted even to himself. Neither would he have owned to the fact that a generous portion of his unrest was due to the fact that Harlem is a rather extensive borough, and, so far as Paget could dis- cover, entirely built of apartment buildings highly appro- priate to iron beds and golden-oak furniture. Yet it was true that Paget was missing Freddie Forsyth more than he had thought it possible to miss anyone. He had searched for her rather persistently for two weeks, but with no clew to begin on, the search had been, of course, absurdly fruit- less. He slouched down in a chair and smoked a cigarette diligently, his back turned to the window, where the opal sky was distilling into amethyst and gray, his ears dulled against the lovesick bird. He thrust his face into a paper and thought that he was reading the news from the spring training camp of the baseball club when in reality he was wondering, a bit angrily, what the deuce a little squeaking rat like Dan Forsyth meant by plunging into financial affairs over his insignificant head and dragging a girl like Freddie off into the murky backwaters of poverty. It was not necessary to fall in love to appreciate a blue- and-gold thing like Freddie. Paget recalled that last after- noon in the little basement place where the mocking birds were singing. He remembered Freddie’s face as she had talked about her mother and Shannon Water. He snapped

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST the paper open a bit resentfully, and then the floor quivered and big Pt rainor came in “Archie Prentiss is back,’’ was Trainor’s greeting Paget s ‘He’s got the girl,” announced Trainor, heaving into up and dropped the paper lankly. Then it all came back—this same room, and a deck of and Prent had cut the deuce. Deuce high! A lamned idiotie bet And, Paget recalled, it was written the bond that somebody had to marry the girl ulti- itely. That was rot of course! A man could not be erced into marriage. Very likely the girl would refuse on: ‘Prent found her somewhere down along the South American coast. Father had a government appointment estigating something. He died and the got no- body; Prentiss brought her out. They were four days in go ship captain on their trail. It’s a i great story the w Archie tells it. This girl—you ought et! Lived in a jungle all her life; read Victor : I Hugo and French poetry, and didn’t know how to turn on light! Got her hair down in a pigtail and some sort of tle-kid dress or oks for all the world like Archie had | iptured a little Indian and tried to tame her, till you see ; er eves { 7 Ippose you are expecting to keep your part of the \ agreement?” [rainor took a bundle from under his arm. ‘Catalogue seen telephoning schools all the after- noor Makes me feel old—as though I had an granddaughter left on my hands. Not going to be easy to cla I xz € ner She "Vv those sour old classics by heart—and she ca id fractio She’s got a trick with her eyes—looks yu like she was an island queen or something. Not ‘ to tell a girl like that that ladies don’t say ‘damn’ or ¢ Ww t ni i ‘By George,’ iughed t, “‘this begins to be in- ee , ‘Wait till you see her,” prophesied Trainor, thumbing e leaves of a pictured catalogue. ‘* You'll realize then pitifully little you know about life. This girl— Prentiss ills her Mary Lassaigne—buried her father with her own ls. Yet she sa he hates men, and women make her } You can see that Archie has had a lively fight with eS % He looks worn-out. And whenever he suggests any- zy she g me of those annihilating looks. I’ve i ‘Don’t count it yet,” advised Paget. ‘‘ Your little savage } balk at f ng schools. They’re rather sophisti- | cated places usuall i’ve got a niece who visits me oc- | casionally and enlightens me on Paris hats and the social distinctions in motor cars. I imagine a girl from the jungle nacquainted with marcelled waves and manicures would t ive a ratner unhappy time of it I’ve counted on that,’’ returned Trainor. ‘I’m going , to give her a mont! going to geta little widow I know to chaperon her and teach her. She’s a woman, you know not a child f had education of a sort. Her father taught ne ind ( arin a convent. She'll learn ea fla whe that ladies aren't a ys sick bed with camphor on their heads, and that soap isn’t H vathsome stuff, and hairpins an abomination. The girl's i nineteen yea old, Paget—and she has never seen an ' elevator or a pho nh or automobile! Talk about a rgir oil! “hi I ionary work. This is edu ating The Littte Gray Bird of a Woman Who Came to Meet Them Seemed to Her a Marvelous and Saintly Creature ! vu ‘But you've got to wear shoes!"’ argued Prentiss, Prentiss knew that this was not fear so much as a e i pR NTISS, returning from two days in Washington, with a youthful assumption of fatherly sternness self-sufficiency. She did not care how she looked. H | % fou Mary issaigne sitting forlornly in the hotel ““Why have I?” inquired Mary coolly. had a hard time persuading her to have her untamed room which he had gotten for her, her body drooping and ‘*Because’’— Prentiss knew again that parental feeling brown hair subdued into proper puffs and « j nostalgic woe dimming the defiant brown beauty of her of helplessness at combating her still obstinacy ‘people And trip to Wasl had proved to him r face. She had on the faded old khaki frock, which he had wear shoes! It’s the proper thing todo. You have to live ! 4 Phere i not been able to pe iade her to destroy, even after they in the world as it is, you Know You can’t make laws for he x i had purchased a wardrobe of sorts at Ponta Pablo. The elf.” a le t moccasins she had worn lay limply upon the floor and don’t want to make laws,’’ declared Mary, lacing Men high in the Department of Agr ture he held tockinged foot tenderly in her hand and re- her moccasins; “I merely want to be zomfortable.”’ they were easy to see and to talk t had « garded resentf the ittered footwear which lay all Ultimately Prentiss browbeat her into crowding her Lassaigne pecimens and pursed the H el unaccustomed feet into a pair of soft sandals, color of mittally. It was impossible to here were ft rich slippers and natty little pumps smoke in winter. Then he tramped out into the street, whether or not Lassaigne had wr ' with shining buckles, gray suédes like the pelt of a mouse the argument having left him wearied and with a feeling of department which had not already be« ; browns as tawny and rich as chocolate bonbons, white having bullied something innocent. He had known the breeders on the government plot I ds with a d ind sturdy sport ties. Trainor same nagging discomfort in his conflicts with Mary ever sent to obtain the strong, wi evidently had sent samples of every style and size avail- since they abandoned the little government boat at a stayed his mission a full sea Phe i i ible, and Mary Lassaigne sat and looked at them all with river port of consequence, and Mary, subdued by the course when the seed was ger! i ji orn and a trace of angry tears upon her eyelids. noise of a world of whicl e knew little and no longer Prentiss had come away d i i Across the room the gentle middle-aged woman whom _ goaded by the terror of Alvaso, had relinquished command _ indignant But } ndigi th lrainor had persuaded to chaperon Mary—one Mrs. of the expedition to hin mothered the genius of | gre Mooney—sat and looked at the girl in a sort of baffled Prentiss had known few girls in his life, but those he pale reward of glory after he incredulity. remembered had been amazingly different from Mary. own fever for the adve e. H ( ‘She declares she won't wear them,” was Mrs. Mooney’s His gay little red-cheeked stepsisters had been eager for ness had left him tingling with th { i wailed greeting to Prentiss. ‘“‘She won’t even try to walk experiences, ecstatic over a new gown ora ribbon, inquisi- convinced him t tl mi the t (a in them. What in the world will we do? She can’t go tive and imitative as little pecking sparrows. But heing one of the hur e te out—in those!’’ She dismissed in disgust the limp stained all the youth of her somehow drained by the je: searches into the hid ecre f the ‘ moccasins which Mary had insisted on wearing to New’ ancient jungle, grudged the world so much as a sidelong grudged the hours he rn Y orl scorning look Continued on Page 9U0

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1x Y DEAR father used to maintain that true love seldom dies, chiefly A he eit o seldom born, which l ean aspe on upon the aver- ILe e alla But th would searcely be fair to wid- or maidens who have been bereaved eftore bet tt il wo ild it 4 For, of course, eivable that such a one might recover from the shock of her ind form a second genuine attach ent. But whether | was justified in putting Peache into the latter class or I ild not judge at the time. Be f course, we should have been t ‘ ne on the northern ranch it Mr. Markheim, « pecially after Richard, the chauffeur, enlisted, and dear Mr. Pegg began his increasingly frequent to Washington, where he had some ng to do with upplying the Army fruit Che way that man constantly ran over to Washington from California t mpl too too—-well, too Califor in for word For the natives of this region save time in every conceivable fushior et regard distance as nothing lie spent almost all of his time either on the train or in the southern part of the tate, where hi principal groves of citrus ed fruit were locat At any rate, we should have been tre- 1.endously lo iely on the home ranch vithout Mr. Markheim. Really I should tt have supposed that a millionaire ould be so human or a nouveau riche so condescending, or, rather, so tolerable But I suppose his being in love with Alicia had something to do with it, for before we had been twenty-four hours at the King-pin ranch I saw how things were On account of his name, poor Mr Markheim took no active part in the war, though I understand that he lent omebody a great deal of money—the Kelgians or Irish or someone, I| forget just who But at any rate, he used to ride over to our place a great deal, every day when it wasn’t twice a day, and at first Peaches, would have nothing to do with him be yond mere polite ne I settled myself to watch the progress of the affair, because I do love a lover, even when | don't like him, and I felt orry for Mr. Markheim and interested in his attentions to Peaches, though, of course, he was of an age which would have rendered his devotion to an older woman far more suitable, and I was con fident that nothing could shake her de- votion to the dear duke, that handsome ind romantic rascal that is, if he was a rascal, which now seemed plain enough Rut every woman loves a rascal at some time or another, and though friends and ueceed in persuading her to ve him up she goes on nursing her fond re n secret just as long as the flavor ly of indro; that was plain to any woman, ldom spoke of him, ‘I ’ could see that we never went to the little At ar rate, Peaches thought or dust bin of a town for the mail but she ked for a letter in his handwriting But she did not discu him, even with me And when Mr. Sebastian came over from his toy ranch she would ride with him, talk with him, wim in our pool with him or accept the little things he bought her with a sweet, gentle resignation which brought teat it was so unlike her old fiery self And thus we dragged through a long, long period which has really thing to do with my account of our particular affair the period of the war, in point of fact. I feel it is t incumbent upon me to make a record of the war, though it occurred at this time, inasmuch as several quite competent persons, including Mr. Wilson and the Associ ated Press, have covered the matter pretty carefully and quite asaccurate ly as I should the more espe ially as I spent the entire span of the war in California, and the Golden State was removed from any sense of actual warfare. VUSTRATED Br THE SATURDAY EVENING POST IY PAY By Nina Wilcox Putnam LO JAMES mM. es 4 . . 7 “A Clean Sweep!" Whispered Peaches. “‘No Use Kidding Myself. I'il Make the Break Clean. It's the Onty Thing to Do!r"’ Not that I mean to say that we Californians were in any way lacking in patriotism or that we failed to do our part, for goodness knows we just about fed the entire nation, and prices didn’t go up, either, the way they did in the East. You could still buy at prewar prices in 1918, and we were so rich as a community that we could do without the scandalous increases of which we read in our week-late New York Sunday newspapers. But what I mean is that somehow the war seemed to belong to the East rather than tous. And I think we worried more over Mexico than over Flanders, and who can blame us when we were so near to Mexico that we could actually see what went on there? Or the result of what went on, at least? And the European war was just like some horrid, rather unconvincing PRESTOWN August 7,1920 MILE nightmare which the East had got itself into and that we had, in consequence, to help her out of. And it’s a fact that Peaches and I ran the home ranch, and hardly left it, after Richard’s enlistment. When I reflect upon our life there, it seems punctuated by two great events and nothing else, though at the time of living through it I seemed to be in a continuous crisis, my upbringing crashing against my environ- ment. The first momentous occurrence to which I have reference was news of the duke. It came in a letter from Abby, who mentioned him casually in passing. The Chinese cook had brought the mail up from Oroville, and Peaches and I had carried it outside to the edge of the swimming pool which Mr. Pegg had built into an angle of the ranch house, that gaunt white-painted frame building, very like a big New England farmhouse, as are many of the homesteads of Northern California. It was a heavenly mild late September day, with the barren hills turning faintly green already, though the rains had been tardy and scarce, and the roses in the garden had still to be irri- gated regularly. The roads, hub deep with dust in summer, were bad now, honeycombed with mud holes, and the mail was late. As I sat there with a corduroy jacket about my shoulders, my muddy boots heavy on my tired feet, and held the let ter with the Italian postmark unopened for a moment in my hands, it seemed as if the past four years were a dream, and the scene before me an utter unreality At the gate to the road stood a pair of orange trees upon which the fruit was being left to ripen for home consumption The orchards were stripped weeks earlier, for we picked green and sweated our or- anges. Beyond the sentinel trees, with their yellow fruit glowing like lanterns in the dark foliage, a flock of runner ducks squawked noisily in the head ditch, which had flowed by the house since the early days when Peaches’ mother lived there and used to get the water for her household from it. Distantly a file of turbaned Hindu pickers, bound for a neighbor’s walnut grove, passed, silhou etted against the sky, and vanished into the more overbearing outlines of a row of eucalyptus trees upon the ridge, and a pair of smartly overalled, immaculate Japanese laborers equipped like aviators, and gloved against the orange thorns, passed along the road, chattering unintel ligibly, their picking equipment strapped to their shoulders like knapsacks, their sturdy boots swinging rhythmically to their chatter. I could see all this, and the environ ment, which had once been as strange as a prism seen through a kaleidoscope, yet which was the only reality I had known for four years, now took on its pristine strangeness once more, and the letter in my hands brought a wave of homesick ness upon me—not for'Italy, but for Boston. I scarcely know why. For several moments I sat so, and then at length I opened the envelope where the censor had closed it, and read. It sounded tired, that letter did, though, of course, it told very little, being censored. “We are frightfully busy,” Abby wrote, “but hopeful of an end to it all before long. I hope it may be true that peace is near, for we have suffered enough. We are not so gay as once we were, my dear, but just as brave. Things have changed so, and people are gone. I hear among others that our gay, mysterious and gallant Sandro was killed at Sir Anthony told me he got it from Captain Silvano, whom you may remember at Mentone. Killed in a very brave bit of action, I believe, too. Ah, well! So many people are making reparation for sins known and unknown by heroic sacrifice in the war. It is the great confes ional.” — eae Se es ——Ee —— ——

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! j ; i f 4 I did not read further just then. Something impelled me to look up. Alicia was standing in front of me with grave golden eyes, her body actually seeming to give off a magnetic force which compelled me against my will to an immediate confession of what I would have preferred to break to her in a proper fashion. Free!’’ she said too quietly. “‘Is he—dead?” It was the first mention which had been made of the duke in forgotte n known better. almost a year. I had begun to think she had or at least determined to forget. I should have I handed her the letter. It was the only thing I could do. She took it and read it silently, still looking off at the purple cloud bank of the Coast Range with its snow patches melting into the fleece of the little clouds which seemed to rest upon them—the barren gold- and-violet so infinite, eternal, restful and in- spiring. Her face was like marble and I thought of the old psalmist: ‘I lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence my help,”’ and knew she would get help from the Coast Range, from the infinite expanse of Nature, even as I had got it before now. “In a very brave action,” she said automatically. Then she threw her back in a proud gesture, as though somebody had tried to strike her and failed; and without another word she turned and went into the house. I allowed her to go alone. Somehow I had gradually come to recognize a difference between Alicia and other young and I knew that there was She had the strength mountains, cometh head women of my acquaintance nothing I could say to her just then. of those hills, or rather mountair she was made of their very substance I felt helpless. Be sides, it was time to gothrough the lower orchards, where the Hindus were ping in of a possible toucl of frost, body strip- olives fear and some had to attend tothings. So I rose, much depressed but by the duty Thatwa *s salvatior urged before me womar during the war ne pressure of work t¢ be done. And Pinto was again in Wast ington But that night Peaches became hu manized. I suppose the darkness wa much for her. I was too unable toendure her sobbing unless I eould participate in it, so ] went into her room toward mort ing, and we were wretched in pany. It was then that she showed me the wallet. “Oh, my dear!’’] “If only you had a souvenir something of his!”’ “T have!” replied poor Peaches unex pectedly. “I'll show it to you.” She turned on the light and reached un- der her tear-stained pillow—an incon gruously gay figure in her striped pyja- mas—and produced an envelope from drew a com said or which she worn case of blac morocco leather. It was thinand flatand no bigger than t palm of your hand. ‘I have this, and two letters, and the rose he picked with the little gold knife I gave him.” “What is it?” I made inquiry. “TI don’t know,” she said. “‘There’s e THE SATURDAY EVENING POST something written in Italian inside. He left on the day before he disappeared.” “By accident?” I said. “‘How?” “Well, I found it on the sofa,” has his name in it. it by accident **And it I was going to return it next day at said Peaches luncheon—the luncheon to which he never came.” Then she broke down again sobbed, “T guess it’s only a Dago m but it’s all I’ve got of hi He must have She buried her head in the pillow, the wallet clasped tightly to her breast, and I stole out of the room without seeing the contents. If only I had looked—insisted on looking at it then, what a lot of trouble we would have been spared! But as my dear father used to say, it is easy to be wise in At the time | merely of Peaches getting a little sleep and that somebody had to get up and start the Chinaman, or foremen wouldn’t get breakfast by five o’clock, and there was still one sheltered flat of oranges to be picked. Though the lug that if we were ever to get through in complete shipment we must begin work as soon as it was light enough to see the yellow glow under the green on the fruit, and work until it was so dark that the prime orange were indistinguishable from the unripe ones, and the Mohammedans would come out of the orchard and pray, in their heathen manner, facing where they supposed Mecca to be. Somebody had to see to things, and I was what Peaches cryptically termed the “goat.” used it a lo thought retrospect. their the were already in the orchard I knew time to make a Mr comes up hil not Kipling may effort to rise early, once you are accustomed to so doir v It is a common observation that when one does get up inrise one wonders why one does not do it alway AY for almost three vea ch had been my continu hal I set about my duties this morning, however, wit! neay heart, for I ar ticipated a lor g siege with Peache al her grief. But by the time the foremen had gone tne ections and I myself had ridden the round f the various orchards to see that all was well, and given the Chinaman instructions about the meals, which instru tior he would later pretend not to have heard, and had ridden over to the sluice at the top of the head ditch see why the new feed to the seedling flat wasn’t working properly, and taken a look at the flock of turkeys which I had imported to keep the grasshoppers down and whic had lately been depleted by coyote I returned to n second breakfast; and there was Peaches already seated at table, well groomed in her riding clothes and prepare j to accompany me to the packing sheds at the railroad She was a trifle pale perhaps, and rather quieter than ( ] l have nown 1 t, » thunder in California, too, so it but ne reall) daw! usual, but perfectly composed, and even smiled a little as | ide sat down bes her and attacked my mei ‘I'm all set now, Free,”’ she whi spered, bit, as he did his, And then drove, at her watched her out of one corns we got out the Out of the Abyss Below Me Darted a Dark and Noisetess Figure, Followed at Close Range by a Second One r of ar request, and between and went 1 Ai. ‘I'll just do my to town. bumps and mud holes e for any signs ofa breakdowr But none came, either then or tater in the iong sheds where the weated fr ired adowt! e channel of the separ or, fall nginto the | like goider } Ww t e t 1 1 daught I of the neighboring rar er tood Vilt pa ne rr mpetent | { fe ile f wift ind ree f ind ear ny pood hy of pin money thu eve Year Peac! tood out le all d: hex ng u he y as they arrived ranging about freight rate Ove Peeing the allotme of box cars to the irious growers, and genera aoing a man’s job. And never once ad the twe ‘ mont which followed did I know her to fail her work —her ig nificent const t) helping. no a K, l top ill her th But I could see a permanent cha had taken piace her from the da Abby’s letter wa no longer the madcap and, thoug sne was even more beautiful he A differer i’ throug! ‘ ' great ta er Blal ew na ive I i f dent to | nave fre f« punect t ( ee ; ' fi Lhe ear » ‘t ‘ 14 ‘ ve thoug t é { i ‘ ft mistice Continued on Page 75

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1x Y DEAR father used to maintain | that true love s« dom dies, chiefly because it isso seldom born, which | take to be an aspersion upon the aver Kut th would searcely be fair to wid- ider who have been bereaved For, of cour e, eivable that such a one might recover from the hock of her ind form a second genuine attach t. But whether I was justified in nto the latter class or t I could not judge at the time. Be iuse, of course, we should have been the northern ranch thout Mr. Markheim, especially after Richard, the chauffeur, enlisted, and dear extremel lone or Mr. Pegg began his increasingly freque nt tris to Wa hington, where he had some r to do with uppl ing the Army hn th fruit. The way that man constantly ran over to Washington from California i imply too—too— well, too Califor nian for word For the natives of this regior ave time in every conceivable fashion, yet regard distance as nothing Ile spent almost all of his time either on the train or in the southern part of the tate, where principal groves of citrus fruit were located At any rate, we should have been tre- 1.endously lonely on the home ranch without Mr. Markheim. Really I should not have supposed that a millionaire could be so human or a nouveau riche so conde cending or, rather, so tolerable But 1 suppose his being in love with Alicia had something to do with it, for before we had been twenty-four hours at the King-pin ranch I saw how things were. On account of his name, poor Mr Markheim took no active part in the war, though I understand that he lent omebody a great deal of money—the Belgians or Irish or someone, I forget just who But at any rate, he used to ride over to our place a great deal, every day when it wasn’t twice a day, and at first Peaches, would have nothing to do with him be yond mere politeness I settled myself to watch the progress of the affair, because I do love a lover, even when I don’t like him, and I felt orry for Mr. Markheim and interested in his attentions to Peaches, though, of course, he was of an age which would have rendered his devotion to an older woman far more suitable, and I was con fident that nothing could shake her de- votion to the dear duke, that handsome ind romantic rascal that is, if he was a rascal, which now seemed plain enough But every woman loves a rascal at some time or another, and though friends and family may succeed in persuading her to ve him up she goes on nursing her fond ne in secret just a long as the flavor At any rate, Peaches thought only of Sandro; that was plain to any woman, ind, though she seldom spoke of him, I uuld see that we never went to the little dust bin of a town for the mail but she ooked for a letter in | handwriting But she did not discuss him, even with rn And when Mr. Sebastian came over from his toy ranch she would ride with him, talk with him, wim in our pool with him or accept the little things he ought her with a sweet, gentle resignation which brought e to the verge of tears, it was so unlike her old fiery self And thus we dragged through a long, long period which is really nothing to do with my account of our particular iflair the period of the war, In point of fact I feel it is t incumbent upon me to make a record of the war, though it occurred at this time, inasmuch as several quite competent persons, including Mr. Wilson and the Associ uted Press, have covered the matter pretty carefully and quite as accurately as I should, the more especially as I spent the entire span of the war in California, and the Golden sense of actual warfare. State was removed from any ILLUSTRATED Br ‘ N x > “A Clean Sweep!" Whispered Peaches. “‘No Use Kidding Myself. I'il Make the THE SATURDAY EVENING POST LO By Nina Wilcox Putnam JAMES mM. eo & e chet - Break Clean. It's the Onty Thing to Do!" Not that I mean to say that we Californians were in any way lacking in patriotism or that we failed to do our part, for goodness knows we just about fed the entire nation, and prices didn’t go up, either, the way they did in the Fast. You could still buy at prewar prices in 1918, and we were so rich as a community that we could do without the scandalous increases of which we read in our week-late New York Sunday newspapers. But what I mean is that somehow the war seemed to belong to the East rather than tous. And I think we worried more over Mexico than over Flanders, and who can blame us when we were so near to Mexico that we could actually see what went on there? Or the result of what went on, at least? And the European war was just like some horrid, rather unconvincing PRESTON August 7,1920 nightmare which the East had got itself into and that we had, in consequence, to help her out of. And it’s a fact that Peaches and I ran the home ranch, and hardly left it, after Richard’s enlistment. When I reflect upon our life there, it seems punctuated by two great events and nothing else, though at the time of living through it I seemed to be in a continuous crisis, my upbringing crashing against my environ- ment. The first momentous occurrence to which I have reference was news of the duke. It came in a letter from Abby, who mentioned him casually in passing. The Chinese cook had brought the mail up from Oroville, and Peaches and I had carried it outside to the edge of the swimming pool which Mr. Pegg had built into an angle of the ranch house, that gaunt white-painted frame building, very like a big New England farmhouse, as are many of the homesteads of Northern California. It was a heavenly mild late September day, with the barren hills turning faintly green already, though the rains had been tardy and scarce, and the roses in the garden had still to be irri gated regularly. The roads, hub deep with dust in summer, were bad now, honeycombed with mud holes, and the mail was late. As I sat there with a corduroy jacket about my shoulders, my muddy boots heavy on my tired feet, and held the let ter with the Italian postmark unopened for a moment in my hands, it seemed as if the past four years were a dream, and the scene before me an utter unreality At the gate to the road stood a pair of orange trees upon which the fruit was being left to ripen for home consumption The orchards were stripped weeks earlier, for we picked green and sweated our or- anges. Beyond the sentinel trees, with their yellow fruit glowing like lanterns in the dark foliage, a flock of runner ducks squawked noisily in the head ditch, which had flowed by the house since the early days when Peaches’ mother lived there and used to get the water for her household from it. Distantly a file of turbaned Hindu pickers, bound for a neighbor’s walnut grove, passed, silhou etted against the sky, and vanished into the more overbearing outlines of a row of eucalyptus trees upon the ridge, and a pair of smartly overalled, immaculate Japanese laborers equipped like aviators, and gloved against the orange thorns, passed along the road, chattering unintel ligibly, their picking equipment strapped to their shoulders like knapsacks, their sturdy boots swinging rhythmically to their chatter. I could see all this, and the environ ment, which had once been as strange as a prism seen through a kaleidoscope, yet which was the only reality I had known for four years, now took on its pristine strangeness once more, and the letter in my hands brought a wave of homesick ness upon me—not for Italy, but for Boston. I scarcely know why. For several moments I sat so, and then at length I opened the envelope where the censor had closed it, and read. It sounded tired, that letter did, though, of course, it told very little, being censored. “We are frightfully busy,” Abby wrote, “but hopeful of an end to it all before long. I hope it may be true that peace is near, for we have suffered enough. We are not so gay as once we were, my dear, but just as brave. Things have changed so, and people are gone. I hear among others that our gay, mysterious and gallant Sandro was killed at Sir Anthony told me he got it from Captain Silvano, whom you may remember at Mentone. Killed in a very brave bit of action, I believe, too. Ah, well! So many people are making reparation for sins known and unknown by heroic sacrifice in the war. It is the great confessional.”

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—— f # I did not read further just then. Something impelled me to look up. Alicia was standing in front of me with grave golden eyes, her body actually seeming to give off a magnetic force which compelled me against my will to an immediate confession of what I would have preferred to break to her in a proper fashion. “Free!’’ she said It was the first mentior duke in almost a forgotten or at leas known better. I handed thing I could di y. “Is he which had been made of the had begun to think she had determined to forget. I should have r the letter. It was the only She took it and read it silently, still dead?” looking off at the purple cloud bank of the Coast Range with its snow patcl clouds which seemer and-violet mountains, melting into the fleece of the little o rest upon them—the barren gold- so infinite, eternal, restful and in- spiring. Her face was like marble and I thought of the old psalmist: ‘I lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my hel; ind knew she would get help from the Coast Range, from the infinite expanse of Nature, even as I had got it before now. “In a very brave action,” she said automatically. Then she threw her head back in a proud gesture, as though somebody had tried to strike her and failed; and without another word she allowed her to go alone. into the house. I Somehow I had gradually come to recognize a difference between Alicia and other young women of my acquaintance nothing I could say to her just then. of those hills, or rather mountain she was made of their very substance I felt helpless. Re sides, it was time to gothrough the lower orchards, where the Hindus were strip- ping olives In fear of a possible toucl of frost, and some body had to attend tothings. Sol rose muen depre ssed but urged by the duty before me. That wa woman’s salvatior during the war— the pressure of work to be done. And Pinto was again in Wasl ington Sut that nig Peaches became hu t manized. I] suppose the darkness was too much for her. I was unable toendure her sobbing unless I eould participate in it, so ] went into her room toward morn ing, and we were wretched in com pany. It was then that she showed me the wallet. “Oh, my dear!’’I said. “If only you had a souvenir or something of his!’’ “T have!” replied poor Peaches unex pectedly. “I'll show it to you.” She turned on the lightand reached un- der her tear-stained pillow—an incon- gruously gay figure in her striped pyja- mas—and produced an envelope from which she drew a worn case of blacl morocco leather. It was thinand flatand no bigger than the palm of your hand ‘I have this, and two letters, and the rose he picked with the little gold knife I gave him.” “What is it?” I made inquiry. “T don’t know,” she said. “ There’s and I knew that there was She had the strength THE SATURDAY EVENING POST some thing written in Italian inside He left it by accident on the day before he disappeared.” “By accident?” I said. “How?” “Well, I found it on the sofa,” said Peaches. ‘‘And it has his name in it. I was going to return it next day at luncheon—the luncheon to which he never came.” Then she broke down again. guess only a Dago mileage book,” she sobbed, but it’s all I’ve got of hi He must have used it a lo She buried her head in the pillow, the wallet clasped tightly to her breast, and I stole out of the room without seeir g the contents. If only I had looked—insisted on looking at it then, what a lot of trouble we would have been spared! But as my dear father used to say, it is easy to be wise in retrospect. At the time I thought merely of Peaches getting a little sleep and that somebody had to get up and start the Chinaman, or the foremen wouldn't get their breakfast by five o’clock, and there was still one sheltered flat of oranges to be picked. Though the lugs were already in the orchard I knew that if we were ever to get through in time to make a complete shipment we must begin work as soon as it was light enough to see the yellow glow under the green on the fruit, and work until it was so dark that the prime orange were indistinguishable from the unripe ones, and the Mohammedans would come out of the orchard and pray, in their heathen manner, facing where they supposed Mecca to be. Somebody had to see to things, and I was what Peaches cryptically termed the “goat.” Out of the Abyss Betow Me Darted a Dark and Noisetess Figure, Followed at Close Range by a Second One Mr. Kipling may not have known comes up effort to rise ¢ arly , once you are accustomed to so doing It is a common observation that when one does get up at inrise one wonde why one does not do it alw iy And for almost three year ich had been my continuous hal I set about my duties this morning, hows ‘ ’ hea heart, for I anticipated a long siege wit Peache and her grief But by the time the foremen had gone t their sectior and | myself had ridden the round { the Various orchards to see that all was wel ad ¢ en the Chinaman instructions about the meals, which instru tions he would later pretend not to have heard, and had ridden over to the sluice at the top of the head ditch to see why the new feed to the seedling flat wasn’t worl ng properly, and taken a look at the flock of turkeys which I had imported to keep the gra hoppers down and which had lately been depleted by coyote returned to my second breakfast; and there was Peaches already seated » thunder in California, too, so it i it, but at table, well groomed in her riding clothes and prepared to accompany me to the packing she j ; a t the rauire vad She was a trifle pale perhaps, and rather quieter than usual, but perfectly composed, and even smiled a little as I sat down beside her and attacked my meal “I'm all set now, Free,”’ she whi ered, I bit, as he did hi And then we got out the car and ‘I'll just do my went to town. I drove, at her request, and between bumps and mud holes watched her out of one corner of mv eve for any sig breakdown Ke m he ne came then or later gyshedswi sweated fruit down the ch: ( eu Peache t le | ‘ ng they ar box « rious yrowe neral ade in’s job er once twelve 1 which follow l know her to fa ] r work her nificent car Iping, no 1 to pull her ft But l Co ild a permanent « had taken pl r from t Abby’s letter wa n madcap and, thous she Was eve! fferent oug! eat ta ‘ ine wv i T cle t ‘ refe The ‘ ‘ ; Continued Page 75 ns of a But either In the w! ind if the wil ff I fe wift f ind t d ed r 0 ‘ tment to the ' nd And dur 4 ed did became re ice n day of ‘ am Oa on

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8 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 Five Cents the Copy From Ali Newsdealers. By Subscription: —$2.50 the Year, Remittances from outside the United States proper to be by U.S Money Order or Draft, payable in U. 8. funds, on « bank in the U.S to Caneda—By Subscription, $5.75 the Year. Single Copies, Ten Cents. Foreign Subscriptions: For Countries in the Postal Union. Subscriptions, $46 00 the Year. Remittances to be by Draft on a bank in the U. S., payable in U.S. funds PHILADELPHIA, AUGUST 17, 1920 The Mummery of Politics OTHING is so immutable as a rite, unless it be a N ceremony, and nowhere are rites and ceremonies more fixed by precedent and practice than in American politics. We hold the United States to be the exemplar of progress among the nations of the world, and ours is a party government. Thus as the progress of a country depends largely upon the government of that country, and as government is the creature of politics, the assumption must be, if we are the most progressive nation, that our polities is as progressive as our country. The facts do What progress we have made has been made despite our politics not jibe with the assumption. rather than because of it. There hasn't been a new political idea in this country in many years that has had a more substantial basis than a grievance; not one that has been founded on a sound economical or philosophical principle. There have been symptoms of revolt here and there, but wlf-seeking was back of most of these, or theory instead of logic This is both in the outward and visible signs and in the inward true both in an interior and an exterior sense, and practical manifestations. Our politicians do their polities in the same old way, both inside and outside. They have been marking time and timing their marks identically for a quarter of a century. It is true that the American creed is that results count, and if the politicians can get their results as their predecessors got them, which is a sad commentary on our collective intelligence, no one can chide them for sticking to the time-tried methods. It would seem, though, that the politicians might add a novelty or two to the public demonstrations of their procedures; that they might evolve a new wrinkle or two in conventions, say, and make a bluff at getting away from the old, frazzled, wearying ceremonies that always mark the quadrennial publie exhibition of political effort, the national conventions. Instead the politicians present They do not make their crowning spectacles They They stage the old stuff each time, go nothing new attractive are poor showmen in a business that is mostly show through their rites and ceremonies doggedly, and then put the props away for another four years. The mummeries are fatiguing. They are set and sched- uled, and no more spontaneous than an arithmetical formula. They are rigid and according to rule. When this When another This condition rises perform this incantation. condition rises go through these solemn _ rites. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST situation requires a set spectacle. That contingency de- mands a contemplated clamor. Any person who has seen a national convention of either party can forecast what the national conventions will do in any The me- chanics are always depressingly the same. The mummery next four—or eight given circumstance of convention procedure. never changes. They string out conventions for days that might, aside from the actual business of nominating, be put through in hours. Of course there is a material side to this. The politicians generally send their convention to the city that will pay most for the privilege. That is business. The money is subscribed by patriotic citizens who are in the way of getting that money back, and then some, from those who go to the conventions. To insure that return, and interest, the politicians must bind themselves to hold their convention in session for a stated period, five or six days, in order that the subscribers may have full oppor- tunity to recoup themselves for the contributions that civie pride caused them to make to the enticement fund. So the show must be prolonged. That is the custom. As soon as it was discovered that San Francisco had one hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars in real money to offer the Democratic politicians for the privilege of entertaining the Democratic conven- tion this year wise persons whose business took them to that convention wired for reservations at the San Fran- cisco hotels without waiting for the formal acceptance of the offer by the national committee, because these wise persons knew what would happen. The necessities demand this, the politicians say. Let it stand at that without protest, though protest might be made over that, and over the political fetish that it helps to carry a state for the party to confer a national conven- tion of that party on one of its cities. Granting the necessity, why must all the old and apparent and ragged and worn tricks be paraded one after the other when the show is on? Isn't there anybody in politics in this country with imagination or ingenuity enough to think up some- thing new in the way of spectacle? Must there always be the same cloud-burst of mediocre oratory, and the same yapping and yammering of inane applause? Must the same props be trotted out year after year to get the same perfunctory effects? Consider that Chicago convention. eighty-four delegates and an equal number of alternates, Nine hundred and together with some ten thousand spectators, sat humidly for nine hours one stifling day while orator after orator mounted the platform and howled his heroics about some Not a vote was changed by any of this Not a fact was added to the knowledge of the delegates concerning the aspirants. They knew all candidate or other. not one vote. about them—all the orators said and a good deal more. The same result could have been achieved by writing the names of the candidates on a blackboard and proceeding to the balloting. But years ago the partisans of some candidate applauded for forty-two minutes after that candidate’s name was presented. Hence since that time it is incumbent on every candidate to arrange matters so he shall have a vast applause, and especially so he shall have a few minutes’ more cheering than his competitors if there are several. If John Smith is cheered for forty-two minutes, William Jones must be cheered for forty-six minutes, or William Jones will be branded as less fitted to be President than John Smith. So year after year galleries are packed with howlers, cheer leaders are engaged, claques are organized and such incitements to renewed but mechanical frenzy introduced as. parades of standards, flag exhibitions, sudden displaying of portraits, the injection of patriotic airs by the band when the yells are diminishing, and all the tawdry and apparent artificiality of it repeated time and again. It means nothing, is nothing and does nothing. The shallow galleries yammer, but the deep delegates, ex- cept when their own man is up, are dumb. So it goes, according to precedent: The long deliberative session over the platform, which ends with the men in control of the committee on resolutions taking from its resting place the plank previously prepared and slipping it across; the canned speeches of the chairmen, edited in August 7,1920 advance by the pussyfooters; the exhibition of the veterans of the party on the stage and their rambling remarks; the endeavor to incite patriotic fervor by con- vention singing of America and The Battle Hymn of the Republic, each delegate and spectator having been handed a card containing the words of these national hymns in order that there may be some semblance of coherence and not the usual “My country da-da-de"’; the adjournments for conference over matters that were decided on two months before; the this-is-a-solemn-hour stuff; the care- ful, prearranged selection of the opening-prayer makers so each sect and race may have its representative; the allot- ment of motion makers so various important personages may have their little flash of publicity by prearranged recognition by the chairman when it comes time to recess or move the previous question or something like; the cut- and-dried resolutions that are handed out for presentation; the historic gavel, and all the other fustian and props and preparations that are practiced and introduced in the old and accepted manner to give the impression of spontaneity and enthusiasm. National conventions are as archaic as the methods of them. It is probably too much to expect that the time will come when the people will nominate their candidates for President directly, without the cumbersome and superan- nuated medium of national conventions in the capacity of middle managers and manipulators. The people can bring that about if they wish by the insistence on a national presidential primary, where all candidates may be voted upon in the first instance to the elimination of all but the one representative of each party having candidates in the primary, the men receiving the highest votes to go to the final in November as the selected candidates of their parties. That would be fatal to the domination of the politicians, and is utopian to expect, because Congress, which would make the law, is political and politicianly, and because it isn’t likely the people will take the trouble to insist. Still the people deserve some consideration. the national-convention simulation of popular determina- tion is to continue, and so long as the people continue to allow the politicians to run their affairs, certainly the least the politicians might do for the people is to make national So long as conventions more attractive, to introduce some new stuff, to engage some new mummers and evolve some new mummeries. The old stuff palls. The props are worn and the actors are spiritless in their parts. The scenery is faded and the lines are hackneyed. New fustian should be substituted for the old, for the old fustian is worn and ragged and bags dreadfully at the knees. National conventions are a bore. Mr. Hays’ Limit ENATOR HARDING'S ready acquiescence in the S definite policy of Chairman Hays, of the Republican National Committee, neither to solicit nor to accept cam- paign contributions of more than one thousand dollars is not only good politics but good citizenship. There was a time when the old system of holding up every rich man and every prosperous corporation for as much as the traffic would bear was taken as a matter of course; but even in those days we were vaguely conscious that every large check which found its way into a party war chest was nothing more or less than an unsecured loan which would subsequently have to be repaid by some one of the count- less means that are within the power of the political victor. Every financial obligation incurred before election by a successful political party is a direct lien upon the country. Settlement in some form is scarcely to be evaded; and in the end it is always the great mass of taxpayers who, know- ingly or unknowingly, foot the bill. Whichever party shall triumph at the November elec- tions, our estimate of its probable future performance will be in inverse ratio to the sum total of its outstanding liabilities. The less it has to consider its financial obliga- tions to those who made its success possible the more freely and single-heartedly it can address itself to the great administrative and legislative tasks that will de- volve upon it.

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DECORATION Br THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 29 IMPORTANT MAIN By Cameron Mackenzie CHARLES HARGENS, JSR. Being Some Speculative Considerations Regarding the Russian Peasant FTER one has been poking more or less con- tinuously for a year and a half along the rim of Russia, hugging the dead line from the Black Sea to the farside of the Baltic and the Finnish fron- tier, one comes to know well certain isles of safety or rest homes or refuge spots into which one may crawl and be sure of finding a hot bath, some good food and some sound informa- tion. Viborg, up in Finland, where a fleet of Amer- ican food ships lay last fall watching Judenitch, in one — — democracy and Pt ie armed interven My : tion and not knowing the least last thing about the Russia that has been evolved during the last thirty months The other ele ment has been the Kolchak- Denekin-Juden itch following, which bungled its own show com pletely enough not only to have bestowed gratul tously something of a military rep utation upon the Red Army but to have erected an abiding convict tion with most of emi imperial tik of the most dra- matic retreats of history, lose Petrograd, is one of these; Helsingfors, the Finnish capital, and Reval, the Esthonian capital, both now crammed with order hunters from all over the globe, sniffing after soviet gold, are others; so too Vilna, in Lithuania — or Poland—as you choose to look at it, from which just a year ago the Bolsheviks were expelled; and likewise Riga, in Latvia, horribly shell torn and in its ruins, like a crushed eggshell, but another of the countless monu- ments to that which German artillery could once achieve; and conspicuously into the list goes gay, miserable, glut- tonous, starving, sleek, shabby Warsaw, which is the precise spot where the prim pedantry of the West collides with the gorgeous indifference of the East. The Eyes of the World on Russia 4 gre moving generally toward the Ukraine, there are harborages in Brest-Litovsk, of the notorious peace; in plague-stricken Tarnopol, where Petlura’s paper govern- ment holds forth; and Lemberg, soiled and jaded by the transit through it of twelve different armies in six years. Curious spots, these, and all of them hospitable, in many ways alluring, but to me interesting chiefly because they are and have been, after a manner of speaking, mooring grounds for a great number of observation balloons upon Russia; and, arriving in any one of them, one thinks of men softly rocking fathoms high, sweeping with glasses the unending, dull, flat spaces beyond the Red frontier, ceaselessly peering at a country and people, the problem of which is vaster even than the country itself. There are few governments which are not to-day scien- tifically watching Russia. Even the American Government has spared from its preoccupations abundant attention for this and is outdistanced in the business of Russian ob- servation only by the British, who have produced a small army of highly skilled experts for the work. The French miss no tricks, and the Japanese seem to have a perfect regiment of funny little yellow men with red bands and gold lace on their caps scurrying furiously along the Baltic-Black Sea line. No one officially observes for the Germans, but the Germans know—know more undoubtedly than any save the Poles, the Esthonians and the Letts, all formerly Russians themselves before someone loosed the craze for self-determination and nationalism, and loving, hating, understanding Russia in a kind of blood-relative way Nearly all of the missions are made up of experts, men who have known Russia for years. Their information exchanged, correlated, checked is enormous. Not a person from the hundreds who in one way or another are arriving all the time across the frontier who is not caught and interviewed. These thoroughgoing inquirers even talk with those non-Russian-speaking, generally theory-smitten individuals whom the Bolsheviks, knowing their own busi ness full well, have admitted to the country and allowed to inspect the especial aspects or portions of it that they, the Bolsheviks, were willing they, the visitors, should see And then occasionally these dead-line missions may pick a likely young man, perhaps half British or half French and half Russian, from one of their own staffs, dress him as a peasant or a Red Army recruit and send him off for a couple of months’ perilous work in the great beyond. At any rate, between Viborg and Tarnopol there is very little guesswork or illusion or uncertainty about Russia. These now rather weary watchers know, and knowing, have laid down with practical unanimity three large general propo- sitions which up along the Russian fence are accepted as axiomatic. The first of these is that the sooner the so-called White movement is totally forgotten the better. The White move- ment has had in it two elements. One element has been a great number of charming, delightfully casual cosmopoli- tans, born Russian, who have added not a little to the gayety of London and Paris for a year or so, talking crowd, scorning eventual Russian federation, consecrating themselves the fetish of a re-created great Russia, could never produce the steadfastness or the workaday ability to put the coun try, even if they had it, on its feet again The Real Man for the Task 4 Ke second proposition of the experts 1s that in the al world interest, regardless of any particular prej udices, it would be desirable if the presen Russia should tend to disappear The Baltic-Black Sea tudents are willing to discount if need be the alleged terror, though personally, immediately after Bolshevik evacua tion, | have waded shoe-sole deep in blood and brains ir two execution houses in Kieff. They are prepared to tear up the evidence they have to support the charge of officially forging foreign currencies. They do not object to ignoring certain official declarations that have seemed extraor dinarily remote from the truth. Their proposition rest mainly on the ground that until Russia can be got going again all of Europe east of the Rhine wil: probably remair a world charity patient and that the present powers i: tussia, making all due allowance for war, blockade, and so forth, have not demonstrated the organizing and busine capacity for the job. They are not good business peopl it is contended, and besides are handicapped by certai: political and industrial doctrines to whick they have con mitted themselves, so that altogether for the ike of Russia and for the reé tablisnhment of the de ute eco! " mechanism of Central Europe it best that the personne of the government should change The third propo ition is that the real man for the ta Russian rehabilitation is the Russian peasant. It is not suggested that there should be a government by peasan but that a government should take charge which would administer the country largely in the peasant interest First, the man of the land is the most actual Russian that

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10 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST there is Before the war there were eighteen million males en yaged in agriculture in Europear Russia, which means that some thing like eventy-five millior ersons out of a population of one ndred and thirts ; were of the peasant el ntil Russian political creeds be ome entially agrarian in their nature and not, as at present, essentially industrial, it will be more difficult than otherwise for hu a to resume her established ti a “ producer to meet the unescapable food deficiencies of the millions to the west, in the worry belt of the ur erse, where ocial and industrial ab ibstantially of hunger, runs a close race all the political, ormality, bred while with relief ships and the ur fertilized crops of an exhausted oil. Third, the Ru though he may he sian peasant, incited like “ > e barbarian to pillage i complet tends ind murder, nevertheles something perhaps not so trust- worthy as an established chemi- cal reaction but something at least as reliable as those little charts which convince numerous gentlemen that some particular quadruped or other is a sure winner and merits the support of their loose change. So far as anyone can be said to be rich in a country of entirely worthless money, there are some few Russian peasants who are rich to-day. These are either the peasants living in convenient proximity to the large cities like Moscow and Petrograd or else along the Polish, Lettish, Es- thonian and Finnish frontiers, where smuggling may be carried on without great risk. The peas- ants, however, near the big cities are rich in a somewhat absurd way. In their small cottages and outbuildings are quantities of priceless furniture and art >» eis treasures—the loot of palaces in his natural state, no differ ently from any other creature of the open fields, toward honest democracy and away from disastrous ultraradicalism. There are many other con iderations that weigh with the experts who have formed their opinions at the gateway of Russia—opinions that infinitesimal in the Russian rest not on the fragment iweness, of one individual's knowledge and experience, but upon the knowledge and experience of innumerable persons roving from the Caucasus to the Murman Coast, from Petrograd to Viadivostok, and bringing the problem, arp, single focus as a thing Anyhow, what it for all of it ast ne into embled, as an entity, as a whole that these men who have been living exclusively ian problem for months on end will tell you, assuming for every kind of Russian produce wain to circulate in the world’s trade arteries, that the comes tol th the Ru the nece if most important man in Europe to-day is the Russian peasant and that the real key to the Russian conundrum Ire juentl t is contended that it is not easy to get at the psychology of the Russian peasant. It is said that it is difficult to talk with him, and this, as the result of attempts I have made, | beli better luck, but when ve to be true. Others may have had er with an interpreter’s aid I have tried in Denekin Judenitch and Polish prison camps, on the land itself bordering the Dvina and Dnieper rivers, in tir villages of the soviet Ukraine my experience has been that the peasant wi either too inarticulate or too uspicious, or loo oppre ed with a sense of strangeness Ir beholding an American, than which to his generally ig norant mind no more remote, half le gendary, unknown being exists, or else that fathomless chasm which lies be tween the Western and Eastern thought kept us apart, Nevertheless | am convinced that the Russian peasant is entirely comprehensible; and he i comprehensible be cause he thinks and act strictly in accord with the most primitive laws of human desire and economic necessity Palace Loot on the Farms To truth of this came to me upon an occasion in Reval. rhere | met a man who was the head of one of the most thorough and skillful of the foreign missions watching Russia and this man asked me if | would care to come with him to his private office. He led the way to an old palace and up a long spiral flight of concavely worn stone steps to room, which through the clear, infernally delicate of the Gulf of Finland and gave one a sense that you might be looking nan tower light of the Baltic spring commanded mile into the very mouth of Petrograd Bay. Once in the room, the man drew attention to a pile of papers, documents and reports as high as a person's shoulders, as broad as a good sized business desk and remarked “*See those? They concern one man a simple fellow the Russian peasant at body of material, so volumi Europe . a Later | went throug! nous that only the most important man ir eemed, could have inspired it. The material consisted of translated digest of re port that had been in process of collection for the ten previous mont been made by an army of agent rhe re ports had Lithu friend had em mostly Poles anians, Esthonians and. Lett whom my) ploved and at the rate of twenty men every two weeks had been sending into rural Russia with instructions to run the Rolshevik lines not difficult for the natives of a bordering reach certain definite villages, live in them for one month and then return After I had finished this reading there was no thought more succinctly in mind than that if you wish to qilculate the Russian peasant, take estimate of his physical and moral well-being, see what forces are pressing upon him, figure your result, and you will have country trucked to the country in ex- change for food—cluttering ridic- ulously the usually sordid and slovenly homes of persons who have not the vaguest notion of the value and possible beauty of what they possess. Wonderful inlaid tables are used for kitchen service; farmers and farm hands dine from sets of Empire chairs that would fetch a ransom in New York or Paris or London; gorgeous rugs from the East are hacked into size for horse blankets. Still all this stuff is property, and so those who may be called the suburban peasants are rich. In a hardly less absurd way are the frontier peasants rich. At a time something more than a year back now, when the old imperial reserves of Russia, upon which it had been possible to draw to lessen the severity of the blockade, had been exhausted and the great pinch set in, the frontier peasants journeyed to Moscow and Petrograd with food which they bartered chiefly for jewelry. The jewelry they brought back to the frontiers, smuggled it out to Helsingfors, Reval, Riga or Warsaw and got back in exchange generally portable luxuries like French cognac, fine cigars, perfume, feathers for women’s hats, even cheeses Again they made the trip to the big cities, where their new wares are said to have found customers among the commissars’ class. ‘‘ To live like a commissar,” is a thread bare colloquialism in Russia. The process keeps up, and in one form or another these frontier peasants are gathering regular profits all the time But the average Russian peasant to-day is not rich; at the same time, however, he is not poor. He has no actual money of any sort, because the soviet currency is not recog- nized as a medium in the rural districts and the ezar and duma rubles, which have some value, have disappeared His only clothing is very antiquated and not unusually was procured from the relatives of someone who had died of typhus. His farm implements are few, those that he used before having been lost or broken or stolen or requisitioned His horses have been taken either for army use or for food. But he has enough clothing to keep warm, enough fuel, which he can cut himself, enough food, which he has cultivated for his own needs, with a trifle over, which he can readily trade if he can find anything worth trading it for. In a material sense the average Russian peasant to-day is not August 7,1920 Incidentally when Colonel Ryan, health and sanitary ex- pert of the American Red Cross, went into Russia in April to form an estimate of what the relief problem might be, the soviet authorities stated to him, he said, that in all dis- tricts there were then only fifty-seven thousand typhus cases and it was Colonel Ryan's opinion that if one doubled the number one would about have the truth. Resuming, however, the Russian peasant now has not any schools except in rare instances, but that he does not mind. He has few physicians, most of the former prac- titioners having been either killed or forced into exile hundreds are in Poland—as intelligentzia, or else drafted for the medical service of the Red Army. But the peasant has his priest and his church, with which the government has dropped interference, and that compensates him for many things. It may be a fact that in parts of Russia the peasants are reverting to almost medieval conditions, but that has not yet become general, and besides, from the individual peasant’s viewpoint, there is nothing very painful in the process, so that altogether ninety per cent of the time finds your average peasant to-day entirely con- tent. But ten per cent of the time he is not, and in that small ten per cent period there appear to lie potentially germs out of which history may develop. The Desire to be Let Alone HE one thing that the peasant wants now is to be let alone. He wants to be let alone partly because he is reasonably content, partly because he is infinitely weary of turmoil, strife, uncertainty, change and partly because, as I have implied above, he is acutely suspicious. He is suspicious of Whites because they may signify a swing back toward the old order, and he is suspicious of Reds because they may signify a rushing toward a new order; he is born suspicious of Poles; he is suspicious of strangers of every kind and of creeds of every sort; and the basis of his suspicion is his consciousness of his own responsibility in the destruction of the former landed estates. He wants to be sure of the forcibly gotten land that he now has and, like thousands of other peasants in adjacent parts of the world, he is uneasy in his mind and not altogether con- vinced that the seeming millennium of his new condition in life has actually and permanently arrived. The fact that he has never made payment of any kind, the fact that he has no title deeds—both distress him despite himself. To have made payment, to hold title deeds forms and symbols of ownership familiar to his experience and to his mind. Being of the land, he is fundamentally bourgeois by nature; his bourgeois instincts have been enormously quickened by possession; he has within the past two and a half years become a high respecter of prop- erty rights, and particularly of his own, upon which, how- And in consequence at every slightest move in his direction, at the smallest encroachment, especially when that encroachment hints at a tampering with land ownership, he takes fright those are the only ever, he feels that his hold is somewhat tenuous and his suspicions are alive. There is still another reason why the peasant’s chief insistence has become that he shall be let alone. He has nothing to sell, food or anything else; nor has anyone in the country, the government most conspicuously of all, any- money being as worthless and plentiful as cloth is dear and searce. That in the circum- stances the peasant should have produced only for his own needs is natural and signifies that any wheedling of food from him by force or otherwise means that to the extent of the wheedling he himself will go hungry. The matter is a highly personal one with him and has everything to do with his resentment of interference. The matteris also one of enough importance fora slight digression, thing that he wants to buy . distressed and nine-tenths of the time he is simply dozing in the sun—in the Ukraine I have seen scores, stringy haired, barefooted and in most unlovely fashion do- ing just that—and is quite con- tent. He is content despite the isolation in which he lives, rural communication having virtually ceased on account of the disrepair of roads and bridges, which except in areas through which a military front has been supplied have not been cared for in six years; and content despite the typhus, which he does not fear, regards as part of everyone's nor- mal human fate and from which the danger to the peasant is no longer nearly so great as has been sometimes supposed, because the seourges of 1918 and 1919 were so widespread that, while kill- ing off thousands, they also ren- dered thousands more who recov- ered from the disease immune. because it has been contended that the problem of Russian food and Russian regeneration was solely a problem of getting so many locomotives into the coun- try with which to move the food, which would revitalize the pop- ulation, which would stimulate industry, which would improve the currency and so on back to food again. But the difficulty with that theory begins with its first step the food is not there. First, why should it be? Fora long time the peasant has known that, granted a heavy season's work, all that he was likely to have to show for it at the end would be a handful of worthless notes that he might just as well let go fluttering to the wind for the use he could make of them. Second, it is doubtful if the peasants of Russia are able to-day to make an adequate (Continued on Page 32) h —— a OO,

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST a ees SS ee ie —-sz — MADE BY THE MAKERS OF CAMPBELLS SOUPS “WITH TomaTO SAUCE | 7 +? © oy 4g JOSEPH CAMPBELL GOMPANY yj. of . CAMDEN,N.J.,U.S.A " rhe iia tee tt Ease up on summer housekeeping | i | Don’t let indoor drudgery rob you of the golden hours in the open. Campbell’s Beans can be a big help to you on many a day when you want to be done with work and off for a a good time. Campbell’s are all ready to serve, slow-cooked, digestible, nourishing, delightful 4 either hot or cold. Splendid for the outing, too. LOIS FOF SZ AZOAANO-WrIsZ LAS ZL

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(Continued from Page 30) production because of their shortages of agricultural imple- ments and horses. Third, there are mountains of evidence piled up in every Russian inquiry station to the effect that there is no surplus of food, and of the correctness of that evidence I have been able to make some slight observation. Last fall, just when the plowing for the winter's crop in Southern and Southeastern Russia—and the winter's crop, because it is the practice with the winter's crop to take the land out of fallow, is reckoned the better of the two in the year should have been finishing, I made an aéroplane flight of several hundred miles over the Bolshevik lines, and therefore into soviet Russia, above a great block of the Ukraine, up to the Dnieper River and eventually to Kieff a little before it was captured by Denekin’s troops. From the air it was possible to look down and see the precise extent of the cultivation. Woods and the uncattled pas- turages showed green; fields that had been arable lay whitish-gray in thesunshine; fields under cultivation were sharp- edged, blackish-brown squares or oblongs below; and these last were only immediately round the vil- Ona rough it might be estimated that lages and farmsteads guess not more than fifteen per cent of the land that ought to have been Any- how the panorama, mile after mile, of neglected fields in the heart of ene of Europe's greatest natural food-producing areas was to me triking visual of how well the activities of the Russian peasant had been noted by those of mine from their im- Pa BATT a isu) (oe ALN plowed had been touched evidence observers aginary observation balloons And so what it comes to is that s have no food to sell unless they almost literally take it out of their own mouths, of extreme nerv- the peasant and they are in a state THE SATURDAY EVENING POST the basis of the Esthonian frontier rate of exchange, which is now seven hundred soviet rubles to the dollar: One egg $ .40 Pound bread 55 Pound pork 3.10 Pound sugar 3.10 Pound butter 4.% Box of matche Pi Figures like these should be read in the light of the fact that the average wage, as, for example, for a stenographer in a government office—and all offices are government offices—is between twenty-five hundred and three thou- sand rubles a month, or about three dollars and sixty cents to four dollars and thirty cents a month. Besides these figures, the young Englishman brought out something else. It was a loaf of the bread obtainable on the ration tickets and issued to the Red Army, which is the only bread Russian cities know to-day. This loaf was analyzed and found to consist of forty per cent bird seed and millet, fifty per cent chaff and bran and the rest a compound of rye, barley and pea flour. But this theme is very worn. Long since it has been known that Moscow and Petrograd were in conditions of starvation, and what that means to the government in the way of pressure is obvious; and it is equally obvious that though the central authorities may pick up as they have done— infinitesimal hundred-ton food shipments from adjacent countries, such as Esthonia and Latvia, with which the war has been declared off, it must be upon the peasant, the only person under the heavens who ever can feed Russia, that they must depend. Again it has been altogether ousness regarding the security of their land holdings, and for these and other reasons have one predominant demand, which is Their general mood may not he precisely the old one that they are going to have peace if they have to fight for it, but is near to that —near enough at least so that so far as there is anything resembling a peasant policy in Russia to-day, it is hands off the peasant and all that is his. However—and here we begin to ap- proach more nearly to the nub of the matter—to keep hands off the peasant and all that he thinks is his is exactly and preéminently what the Moscow government cannot do. that they shall be let alone . The Struggle for Food T MAY die if it does, but then again it may die if it does not. There is an army to be rationed and several literally starving cities to be fed; there are the Communists, whose doctrine the Bolsheviks appropriated as a raft upon which to float into power; and the Communists are insisting and for long have been insisting upon land communization. These circumstances seem to hint a first-class political and economic jam, provided the pressure is severe enough. It would hardly to dilate upon how terrifie is the pressure upon the government to produce food. Ever since the present régime began the pressure has been heavy, and it has become progressively heavier. Up to about a year ago certain reserves in Russia, accumu- lated under the old imperial régime, remained upon which it was possible to draw in emergency, but the last of those seem necessary are known to have gone at that time into the bottomless pit of What at challenge any large-scale catastrophe of history. An ency- clopedia of facts and figures has been gathered on the subject from which it is possible perhaps to construct a truer picture than could be formed from several weeks passed under the chaperonage of a watchful commissar in one of the guest houses of Moscow or Petrograd. The point of such a picture would be that the entire popula- tions of both those cities are engaged in almost no other actual business than to procure enough food upon which to exist. All life, save for the governing class, the com- missars, Red Army troops, food speculators and visitors, has clearly become only a gigantic food struggle, actuating people to unheard-of hours of toil, incredible trickeries, to any and every device that will get them food. Prices are of course enormous, and miles of figures have been publish: d to demonstrate the situation. There are Almost at random I pick one that was procured by a daring young Englishman who, with a complete knowledge of Russian, in the latter part of March this year went across the lines, joined the Red Army and succeeded in being assigned to duty as a hospital orderly in Petrograd, where he remained for one month, bringing out, along with a mass of other information, the following food list, which I have converted to cents and dollars on need ‘onditions are present seems to scores of reliable lists. impossible for the government to brush aside the Communists in the latters’ demand for land communization. Consider the debt of the Bol- sheviks to the Communists and the position of the Com- munists in the Russian scheme of the moment. Putting it roughly, Bolshevism is a doctrine which decrees that the man who works with his hands shall have a maximum of everything. Communism, at least as it has been applied in Russia, is a theory of how that end may be best achieved. Not all Bolsheviks are by any means Communists, and many Communists are Mensheviks, or Minimalists, as con- trasted to Bolsheviks, or Maximalists, the practical dis- tinction being that the Mensheviks would tolerate a subjugated bourgeois class for the sake of its skill and brains. The Bolsheviks as a party adopted the Communist theory, clapping it on the existing legislative and executive machinery of the soviets, and thereby at one and the same time gave themselves a raison d’étre, a working political and economic program and an alliance of strength. Two years ago Communism was much more general in Russia than it is to-day, but even to-day it is a great force. Officially in mid-May of this year Prawda, the organ of the Russian Communist Party, with a stated daily cir- culation of one hundred thousand, asserted that there were six hundred thousand Communists in the country, but this figure may fairly be questioned from one point of view. Enrolled Communists many special privileges, particularly in the matter of ration allowances and security of employment, and as a result of wide inquiry it is gen- erally agreed that the really convinced Communists of Russia number certainly not more than three hundred thousand, probably not less than two hundred thousand. receive The Tenure of the Land But this body, relatively small in a population of one hundred and thirty millions, by reason of its sincerity and fanatical spirit, which are maintained at high pitch by ceaseless propaganda, has done marvelously for the Bol- shevik Government. Communist troops numbering about one hundred thousand are the soundest and most reliable troops in an army which is either a mercenary force or a joke. I myself have seen a Communist regiment which was resisting Judenitch’s thrust for Petrograd swarm a small fleet of British tanks which were all the while furi- ously spitting machine-gun fire. Communist workmen, generally uncomplaining under hunger, keep production in all Communist factories up to normal—sometimes, when materials are available, even surpassing prerevolutionary output. It is those two hundred-odd thousand semi-inspired Communists who have held the Bolshevik hierarchy in power. And these people, insisting as a matter of principle—and to such a class a principle is more precious than life—on an extension of August 7,1920 their creed to the land and contending that only through land communization can the food problem be solved, will not be denied. Thus again the government is driven to interference with the peasant. In the matter of trying to induce the peasant to sur- render at least some of the stores he has grown for his own use, the authorities, since currency became worthless and cloth virtually disappeared, have hadsmall success. Various expedients have been tried, one of which has been to offer the peasants Bolshevik title deeds. This failed utterly. No title deed to the Russian peasant is a title deed which does not bear conspicuously upon it the double-headed eagle of the régime of the ezar, the tradition of whom is sstill omnipotent in the rural districts and for whom, exactly as if he were still a living person and power, the old, old rites of reverence are still performed in hundreds, doubt- less thousands, of tiny churches in the land. Nor have the peasants evidenced the slightest pity for the plight of the cities. On the contrary, many peasants definitely and professedly hope the cities will starve, for there is a doctrine much abroad in Russia now, and in a curious, semimystic, semireligious form, that cities are the birthplaces of all mischief and evil and that every man of the soil will find happiness and liberty if the cities dwindle and die and disappear. The entire difficulty has resolved itself for the government to the use of force. The Feud Between Town and Country | Rthesummer harvest of last year attempts at armed food requisitions were begun wholesale. Generally Communist troops were sent out by the government for this work. Everywhere the peasants resisted, and usually with success, because, though long ago the populations of the cities were systematically and completely disarmed to head off counter-revolution, it has never been possible to pene- trate the farms and villages of the countryside and compel the surrender of rifles and even machine guns and stores of ammunition brought back from war by a considerable number of the ten million men mobilized in 1914 and 1915 from agriculture. During last fall—there are innumerable written eye-witness reports to support this—all over rural Russia there were small but intense and deadly food battles being fought by hungry, fanatical Communist troops on the one side and determined, frightened, angered peasants on the other—at least angered as much as the true Russian ever really is. The yield to the government, and con- sequent relief to the cities, as a result of these meas- ures of dire extremity was small, judging in part from the conditions in Moscow and Petrograd during the fol- lowing winter and spring, and the most marked results appear to have been to embitter the peasants and to quicken within them a sense of the danger and also the strength of their position. The attempt was doomed to failure in advance, because surplus food reserves did not exist—as doomed as any land communization scheme with a class which, besides being naturally bourgeois, had itself become a proprietor of land. It is very doubtful if the Bolshevik Government at any time even vaguely hoped to put through land com- munization and it is known that its efforts in that direc- tion have never been other than feeble and few. However, as a kind of compromise with the invaluable Communists, a half-hearted endeavor was made last year to introduce a plan of land equalization. By the equalization project it was intended that every peasant’s share of land should be precisely equal and that each year the peasants of any given district should move from one holding to another in rotation. Some of the peasants argued against this, contending that one man might leave his portion in good condition, another in bad condition, with consequent result for the new tenant, and the incentive for wise agriculture thus removed; contending also that one year a man might have a good piece and be well-to-do, but the next year a poor piece and become virtually a charity charge upon a com- munity of intense individualists. But most generally when the scheme was pressed the peasants simply refused to budge —defied the government, and in defying it defeated an impossible plan, clung to their own holdings and em- phasized with new distinctness the cleavage between the cities and the country, between the government and the peasants, between the ideals of an industrial population and those of an agricultural one. The result of it all, too, was to increase the ill will of the peasants, to heighten their guilty suspicions and to prompt them, not in an organized or fully conscious movement but nevertheless very generally throughout all of rural Russia, to consider means of defense and protection both for their food sup- plies and their land possessions; and this movement as far back as last fall began to take a form which has grown as portentous as it was at its inception instinctive. No development of many months in the Russian situa- tion has been more striking or surcharged with greater possibilities than that of local sovietism. Local sovietism is the peasants’ retort to a government which—yielding to pressure—attempted encroachments; it is the challenge (Conctuded on Page 54)

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Lash es ee . om i ae ee URPRISING what a hold a good cigar gets on a man’s affections. Yet not surprising, either, when you think how Robt. Burns contributes to your com- fort, all the year ‘round, day after day. It’s not so dificult to under- stand why Robt. Burns should win men’s confidence. The men responsible for his success knew what they were about when they devised the formula for making Robt. Burns cigars. Briefly, here it is: Robt. Burns’ THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Good friends —through thick and thin full Havana filler gives him fine flavor. Special curing gives that Havana rare mildness. His neu- tral Sumatra wrapper helps that mildness. And best of all, your Robt. Burns, in good times and in bad, through thick and thin, has kept the even tenor of his way, ob serving strictly all his articles of faith. Benerak Cigar Co. a DEPENDABLE CIGARS 119 West 40th Street, New York Cit ROBT. BURNS Invincible ¢ 33 le (actual size) 2 for 25c¢ (13c for 1) Boz of 50— $5.75 HAVE YOU TRIED ONE LATELY?

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Motion Analysis in Industry PTYHE motion picture has furnished entertair ment for people for many ars, bu it is only during more recent that this great inver commen ed ears tion has LO per real service in our ndustrial happer ed form a educatior al and life. Just asit ha in the case of a large nun ber of other inventior t tage the nt of the motior pic imera ha devoted t ing amusement in rie heer world Pert aps the most prom Ising along commercial line of the high era to analyze of all kind It so happens that the normal human eye opportunity in the ust peed can movement can record only something xteen different im pressions of any given action during one second of time It is for this rea on that the standard motion-picture adjusted to expose film to the ibject ixteen In used in making a motion pi econd and in normal action projects the analyzed a camera is used that will take one camera 18 times per second, other words, the ordinary camera ture take n pietures per pr where hundred and tures per second Later this posi peed of the these tures on the same rate reen at In the pictures motion is xty to three hundred pi tive print is projected on the screen at the normal When this 1 are slowed down so sixteen photograp! per second, done movements of the subject materially that every Because of the tremendous speed at which the work and the rapidity of exposures of film per second this fast the illumination that ordinarily is suffi motion can be easily distinguished. cameras approximately five photography requires type of } times ient for an) tandard motion-picture camera, The art has been devel oped in France to even a higher degree than it has here in the United State French inventor has perfected a high-speed camera capable king fifteen thousand exposures per second. This tist fully pho It is believed that the results 3eems incredible, a noted Though it ciet with his remarkable device has succe tographed projectile in flight of the ll prove of value to ordnance experts. It is also likely that other extremely rapid in the life of man and in Nature, which h heretofore escaped our ‘ } ton, Will work W processes ave observa now be caught and analyzed through rapid photography, For moat d of one hundred and of our present ptirposes, however, a camera to one hundred and eighty as fast as best adapted for our most common bu eed Fil d afford component sixty econd, which is ten time the eye Iness ind nor- an opportunity for a perfect filmed. peeds are used the advantages are ms made at such a speed rojecté ' s Ol every eye move of the subject xtremel) id the work become Though camera iecessful high- tment of negative The nt of negative unexpose d raw stock ions, calling for careful and timed s quite costly, galive raw stoc nental basis of wraphy, trea ial attribute to perfect results. pulation 3 probable that mil id amused by the movir perf lions of people have been inter- g pictures showing athletes, - } ¢ normal action and dancers and other first in August 7,1920 USINESS By FLOYD W. PARSONS screen marked off in one- foot squares. There was also a baseboard marked in : one-foot spaces. These measuring devices enabled the operators to get the height and length of the jump. In addition there was a measuring device ex- tending from the mudguard of the body of the truck to the center of the hub of the wheel, which was designed to record the spring action. The trucks were started about three hundred yards back of the runway, and reached a speed of fifteen to twenty miles an hour by the time they ascended the runway and jumpedthrough the air. The average jump was about six feet in height and sixteen feet in length High-speed cameras were set up, and a film was made of the action of each truck. When these pictures were later shown at normal speed on the screen they made it possible for those interested to analyze rigidity and flex- ibility of the truck bodies, shifting of the loads, reac tions of the springs and impact of the tires. Several interesting discoveries were made, one seeming to indi- cate that the spring of a truck will often break in the air before it has been sub- jected to the impact of the car when it again hits the Over Obstactes Simulating Rough Roads afterward going through the same motions so slowly on the screen that every movement might be carefully noted and analyzed. In making these pictures two cameras are set up side by side, one taking only sixteen exposures per second and the other one hundred and sixty or more. It is evident therefore that if an athlete consumes one second in mak in turning a somersault the standard camera gets sixteen pictures of the total movement, while the high-speed instrument gets nine additional photographs between each two of those taken by the standard camera. When these negatives, made at such high speed, are run lowly, the motions are extraordinarily delayed and the appear actually to float in the air. The new and promising field for this art, however, is not in the t} of the country, but in the application of analysis of motion pictures to business problems. Only a ing a dive or ubject eaters short time ago a racing airship was placed in such a posi tion that the propeller received the full benefit of the sun- light, and then, while making sixteen hundred revolutions per minute, its operation was filmed by both the standard camera and an ultra-rapid instrument. When the results were shown on the screen the pictures of the standard camera were exactly what the eye would have noted that is, merely a blur, offering little obstacle to a clear vision of the scenery in the background. The pictures of the high speed camera disclosed the metal tippings on the ends of the propeller blades, and it was possible to count the bolt heads, nine in number, used to fasten the propeller to the main shaft. \ series of most interesting experiments has been made for the ( ‘erning tl concerning the purpose of clearing up certain doubtful opinions action of the human heart under various conditions. In getting at the facts several twenty-pound bulldogs were the subjects used. The films that were made detected actions of the hearts of the animals that could not have been noted by the human eye, and the results are expected to be of great value to the medical profession in enlarging the present understanding of the circulation of the blood and minute actions of the heart and lungs. The high-speed camera was also utilized recently in making an analysis of the spring and body action of motor trucks subjected to shocks on rough roads. Seven trucks were furnished, varying from one and a half to seven tons in capacity. A runway was built, ten feet long, and having a take-off, two and a half feet high, at one end. Just back of the point where the trucks shot into the air was a ten-foot * Through Ulttra:Rapid Photography the Spring and Body Action of Motor Trucks is Tested by Running Them ground. All such actions are entirely too speedy to be discerned by the eye. Other interesting tests furnished much information con- cerning the deflection and expansion of pneumatic tires used on trucks and automobiles. In these latter experi- ments the cars were run over railroad tracks, up and over curbstones and other damaging obstacles. Other studies covered the cause and action of cars in skidding, when relieved of the maximum load through the body lift conse- quent to the rebound in going over rough places. One of the latest achievements of the high-speed camera was in the case of a young woman who was terribly fright- ened three years ago during the course of a thunderstorm accompanied by vivid flashes of lightning. Up to the time of this occurrence she had been in splendid health, but fol- lowing the storm she developed a form of hysteria which left her in a pitiful condition. She is constantly in action, thrashing round with her arms, body and legs. In filming this subject the high-speed camera showed the doctors a peculiar and hitherto unsuspected and unknown muscle wave extending from the hip to below the knee. Eminent physicians, members of the American Neurological Asso- ciation, state that this condition probably exists in all cases of hysteria, and that therefore it has been unknown because of the inability of the human eye to discern the motion. A street-car company operating in a Middle Western city is arranging a series of experiments to determine why the wheel of the troiley pole hops off so often. The pro- posed plan is to build a short line of track alongside the main line of trolley and then place the high-speed camera on a specially built car which will run along beside the reg- ular trolley car and at an equal speed with it. It is expected that the resulting motion picture will enable the trolley operators to analyze the action of the wheel at the end of the pole, and provide a remedy for this nuisance, which has caused great losses through in- numerable delays. In the practice of electric welding certain unfavorable conditions have been complained of, and the ultra-rapid camera is to be called in to record the action that takes place and to permit the welders to analyze the process and determine whether the trouble is due to molten metal, the cutting tool or some other agency. Tire manufacturers are also expecting to be benefited by films showing the mixing of crude rubber and later the rubber going through the rolls. They also believe that such photographs of tests Continued on Page 37)

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST IGHELI! in eR AAR EP RANT - J M ae é z ; Michelin Red Inner Tubes being ring-shaped like all casings fit} without stretching or wrinkling. Other tubes being straight, must —~€— wrinkle in an attempt to conform to the shape of the casing. Ask any automobile owner what make of inner tube is best. | Michelin Tire Company, Milltown, N. J. Other factories: Clermont-Ferrand, France; | PA is London, England; Turin, Italy. '; § Dealers in'all parts of the world. t 4 Hlastration shows . ~, (sections of a Michelin 7" 2g tube and of another : standard make ‘ce- ) \-umented together and oy, placed in half a casing. "me Pe LAA TR EN ee

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST heat Grinnell Dress Gloves—the touch of correctness The guarantee of Grinnell Gloves is sixty-four years old—throughall these years thestandards and ideals of Grinnell materials, Grinnell work- manship and Grinnell quality have been stead- fastly maintained. The value, dependability and satisfaction of Grinnell Gloves—for dress Last to be donned, your dress gloves are the completing touch of your attire. Whatever the occasion, they must be correct, they must fit perfectly, they must express the proper style as well as good taste. It is in these essentials that Grinnell Dress Gloves give the touch of distinctiveness to your appearance. or any other wear—are assured. Write us for our special Glove Style Book MORRISON-RICKER MANUFACTURING COMPANY sta GRINNELL. IOWA. U.S.A. 200 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK CITY August 7,192v

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“= a ee: ~ — Tay a oe I yr Si SS Ce, ree. Continued from Page 34 to determine the strength of tire fabrics will provide know]l- edge that the eye has failed to disclose. Steel engineers who are familiar with the recent accomplishments of high- speed photography assert that a photographic analysis of this kind will probably show conclusively the part that crystals play in the breaking of a bar of steel. Several months ago a well-known exponent of legerde- main performed some sleight-of-hand tricks before the camera. When the film was later shown on the screen the mystery of several familiar card tricks was promptly dis- pelled, for what the eye could not detect the camera had easily caught. A short time after this one of the country’s most famous magicians had been about persuaded to pose before the camera while performing some of his marvelous feats. Unfortunately the celebrated entertainer accepted an invitation to witness the pictures above mentioned, and immediately changed his mind, refusing to appear for any payment within reason that might be offered. All the foregoing is intended merely to convey an idea of the great possibilities that lie in this photographic field of analyzing movements that are too speedy for the human eye. A big manufacturing company was having a lot of trouble with one of its high-speed machines. When the machine was operating in normal fashion its motion was too rapid for any of the observers to determine what the fault was. When the machine was slowed down, so its movements could be noted, the fault complained of did not occur. A film showing the operation of the machine is now being made, and there is every expectation that the trouble will be located and probably remedied. A Pattern to Plan After TMHIS morning at breakfast the president of a large manufacturing concern expressed discouragement over his company’s inability to provide working con- ditions so satisfactory to the men that labor unrest would be eliminated. His corporation had gone the limit in all kinds of betterment work without handing out charity or adopting a policy of paternalism. Housing conditions were splendid and the men’s wages were top-notch. Not- withstanding all that had been done, his men had been led into a strike, and the president’s faith in the ultimate wis- dom of the square deal in industrial relations had been orely shaken. This attitude is becoming common among the officers of many of our large corporations. Not long ago the head of a big company proudly called my attention to the many virtues of his new plan of industrial democracy. Ten days later he called me up and suggested that I go slow in bas- ing any of my opinions on what he had told me of the success of the scheme over a period of a year in his plants. His men had gone on strike, and though he laid the blame entirely on the influence of outside organizers who were opposed to having any body of employees working along happily, independent of their national union, his experi- ence had about forced him to the conclusion that no plan could be devised that would be strike-proof. This disposition on the part of management to give up in the fight for ideal conditions and efficient service is neither wise nor courageous. The forces of unrest are now held in check by the thousands of employers here in the United States who are persistent in their determination to treat their employees fairly and with every reasonable consideration. It will always be true that some of the heaviest artillery will be turned on the administration of those corporations where satisfaction exists. If the square deal has failed in a few places we must not forget that it has saved the situation in hundreds of plants. When man- agement fails it would do well to lay the blame partly upon itself, and irrespective of what has been done it should try to do more rather than less. Patience is far more effective than wrath in these troublous times. Of all the problems that confront employers to-day none is of greater importance than a thorough understancing of man himself. American industry can only maintain world leadership through the careful application of sound physio- logical principles. Labor unrest, low wages and geneval inefficiency are caused largely by the failure on the part of employers to study and understand the structure and operation of the human body. Those who would tear down civilization have made a minute study of the mental and physical make-up of the human mechanism, and these enemies of government are far more scientific in their methods of attack than are many of our industrial leaders in their methods of defense. The so-called radical leaders teach their agents that all men are not alike, and that one method of approach must be used in the conversion of a farmer, while an entirely different line of argument must be employed to win over a miner or a machinist. And these dissenters do not overlook the importance of instructing the youth of the land in the principles of their creed. Much attention has been paid to the work of prose- lyting the teachers in our schools. And when it comes to newspaper and magazine publicity for their ideals, the ac- complishments of our discontented element constitute a work of art. The chief bent of the radicals is to write or talk, and the result is that this class now form a large element in the reportorial staffs of the nation’s press. The recent national convention of the Socialists in New York was attended by one hundred and fifty-six delegates. Of these eighteen were editors and journalists, seventeen were skilled workers, thirteen were laborers, twelve were law- yers, twelve were printers and compositors, eleven were Socialist organizers and eleven were teachers, speakers, and so on. Only one delegate was a farmer. Sixty of the delegates were born in other countries, thirteen coming from Ger- many and twelve from Russia. As before stated, it is foolish for the builders of American industry and the well-wishers of law and order to disregard the marvelous possibilities that lie in a careful study of the human body. No machine has ever been constructed that is so efficient as man himself. As an organization the human body is unequaled, and isso flawless in its functioning under all conditions that no great change has been made in it for thousands of years. Engineers to-day are prone to talk of the wonderful effi- ciency of some of our modern machines. Let me ask if anyone has ever created a pump as perfect as the human heart. Here we have a machine that makes more than two and a half billion strokes and pumps more than nine mil- lion gallons in the course of an average lifetime. The heart makes 4320 strokes, and pumps fifteen gallons an hour, and it stays on the job for more than 600,000 hours unless the boss does something foolish that closes down the plant. We have no telegraphic mechanism equal to that com- prised in our nervous system; no wireless apparatus so efficient as the voice and the ear; no moving-picture machine so perfect as the human eye, and no ventilating plant so wonderful as the nose, lungs and skin. No electrical switchboard can compare with the spinal cord, and no other system of power transmission is so efficient as the red corpuscles which carry oxygen to the tissues. The nerves of odor are so sensitive that they will detect less than one-millionth of a gram of oil of roses, and they are so reliable that a correct message will be carried from the nose to the cerebrum, or executive headquarters. Our sensory nerve of light and color sensation, which carries impulses from the organs of vision to the cerebrum, is so wonderfully made that a cross section of it will show more than half a million nerve fibers. Let us present for careful consideration a brief digest of an interesting idea of C. E. Knoeppel, one of our promi- nent industrial engineers. He starts with the assumption that the most effective type of industrial organization is that which can produce the greatest net results in the easiest possible way and in the shortest possible time. The human body is the best example of organized control that can be found in the world. Its component parts are of a finer kind of design than we shall ever approximate, and the functions and their relations are codrdinated more smoothly than we shall ever be able to arrange human rela- tions. Mr. Knoeppel believes that we should pattern our industrial organization after this perfect model, with the full expectation of securing both economy in the expendi- ture of energy and efficiency in the attainment of results. The principal aim of the human body is economy in the expenditure of bodily power and energy required to secure the attainment of efficient results. A careful study of the body as a mechanism, as an organism and as an organiza- tion, points out many lessons that may be applied in our industrial life. First is delegation of authority. Regardless of from which point instructions are received, the brain decides and then delegates the task to be done to the function or functions designed to perform the task. The body is run by experts. The heart does not attempt to breathe, nor the stomach to carry blood from place to place. The ear does not make an effort to see, nor the tongue tosmell. Everywhere the work is done by specialists. There is central the body does not tolerate lines of divided authority. There is no indecision as regards what is to be done—each organ acts definitely and promptly. In the operation of the human body there is no passing the buck, and there is no’ butting in by major officials in the work of other major officials, nor in the work to be zation; done by minor officials. The body is a “‘we"’ proposition and notan “I” affair. It concentrates, placing within a function all the factors that affect its performance. Fingers are not under the jurisdiction of the lungs, and the stomach is not ordered about by the heart. There is no element of know- it-all by the major officials of the body. Advice from all sources is given respectful attention and acted upon imme- diately. At precisely the right moment the body transfers work. The Bible says: ‘‘Go to the ant, thou sluggard; con- sider her ways, and be wise.””’, Mr. Knoeppel suggests that a similar truth may be stated with reference to organizing for work: ‘“‘Go to the human body, thou searcher after truth; pattern after its workings, and be efficient.” If man is organization, then organization is man. The inef- ficiencies we are constantly in contact with are in the last analysis the result of faulty or incorrect organization, and THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 37 sometimes of a total lack of organization. Faulty organi- zation is cursing us now because we have no plan and do not get down to fundamentals. Industries flounder along on one or two cylinders, and capital and labor fight because neither fully understands the facts upon which good organ- ization must rest, nor the theories round which good organization must be developed. Management may be defined as t nated knowledge. There would be a grand mix-up if the performing machinery and the service machinery of a cor poration were all merged under a single head. This would be the same as if the hands and feet and heart and liver were part of the same function. It is not difficult to imag- ine what would happen to the human body if the hands and feet had to wait until the heart pumped a certain amount of blood or the stomach digested a definite quan tity of food. In an efficient industrial organization, just as in the human body, routine performance must proceed unhampered and without interruption. Service must be rendered and requirements anticipated. The two must be directed and coirdinated by some agency which can rely for information and advice on experts or specialists who are in possession of the required knowledge to reason, conclude and act. The body organization is governed by laws of health and Nature. If we do not sleep, or will not eat, or stop using certain muscles and faculties, there is soon a bodily disarrangement that causes trouble. The same applies to industrial organization. When laws are violated disar- rangement follows and the result is confusion and waste. For instance, among the several laws set down by Mr. Knoeppel as essential in the operation of a business cor- poration, that with respect to the placing of responsibility seems to be quite important. ( responsible for certain results, and should have full authority to get them in his own way. Too often we adopt detail-chasing tactics which develop leaners, instead of man-building methods which develop doers. Executives should give their subordinates absolute authority to do things falling within their sphere. Employees should be held responsible for results rather than for methods used; and if a policy of giving full credit is adopted by the hig same policy will soon extend down and he wise use of codrdi- Each worker must be held est officers tl permeate the whole organization. Whether or not everyone agrees that the best oppor tunity to develop an ideal industrial organization lies ir applying to our business life the lessons derived from a careful study of the human body, it is an interesting thought, well worthy of investigation and experiment. It has not been my purpose to go into this proble min any exhaustive fashion, for that has been done by those who are advancing the idea. No one will deny, however, that some of the greatest advances of science have come through first studying and then attempting to imitate the mar velous handiwork exhibited by the Master Designer of the universe. If one organ of the human body, such as the eye, ha given us the basic knowledge needed in the development of a wonderful photographic apparatus, then why may we not obtain the design for a splendid industrial or ganization from the methods of control and the plans of operation laid down for the government of the world’s most complicated machine? A Linen Industry of Our Own F ALL the developments of the war none is more inter esting or charged with greater possibilities than the opportunity now presented America to establish a line: industry all its own. Before the war Russia produced ninety-two per cent of all the flax grown in the world Before the war had ended the exports of flax from Russia had practically ceased, and the linen industry had beer reduced to such an extent that there is now a famine linen throughout the world Up until the time of the revolution in Russia flax wa grown in that country by individual farmers and all t large estates as a compulsory tax crop. Bolshevism | changed all t , and the outlook is that Russia w again produce as much flax or as cheap flax as wa in the past. During the last year of the war the growing sca: linen-for war purposes caused an urgent request to made that the United States give immediate attention to the possibility of growing flax here so as to suj mills of Ireland, Scotland and the Continent of I with raw material from which to manufacture linen. Asa result of the investigation that followed the War I Board in Washington, nineteen days before the a tier was signed, recommended that the Government ad $1,000,000 to encourage the growing of tlax and to estab- lish a linen industry in America. Linen is the most durable of all known { vhich is plair ly proved by the material that ha lina good state of preservatior Wray d round Egyptiar int mies that were placed in tombs 4000 years ago. The origin of the flax and linen industr yremote that history can Concluded on Page 72

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ALS NOTHER famous person whom Win- ter met and—though they were never friends— came to know well in those now remote Bohemian days of old New York wa Walter, or, as he dubbed him- ostentation of democracy, Walt Winter described Whitman as ‘‘a com- " ometimes obnox- iously coarse writer, trying to be original by ing a forml« style and celebrating »make the world almost their vulgarity.” © like Winter, yet he sel- yportur ty, when the latter fer to him in terms of con- ragement. TI fact well their contemporaries — ts in variou record of Whitman preserved by the late Mr. Horace raubel The influence of the Whitman cult, which of late seems to have heen gair that old pawn- ing new strength Paris, ing ground of eccentricity and faddism, has been for a long time considerable; and ome of the most eminent of critical writers in Ameri i I ive beer genuinely afra d of antagonizing it. As illustrating this, I give yn anecdote related to me by my father and of which I made an exact record. Beware the Whitmanites On the night of the late Whitelaw Re id’s wedding April 26, 1881—to the kind and excellent lady who made po ible oO much of hi ocial and political success, Winter ind Edmund Clarence Stedman, after the ceremony and reception, re paired toge ther to the old Lotos Club “Where posse ed the mo is my father said, ‘* Ned, who remarkable powers of continuing which | ever have encountered, talked to me incessantly about literature ind writers for more than two hours. ‘Now, Whitman he iid at la t, and pau ed an instant, not for a reply but to fetch a deep breath; whereupo eizing the first oppor tunity to get in a word of comment on his monologue, I interiected “*Whitman be damned! He is a dirty- minded old charlatan and a bore of the first magnitude!’ ‘For God’ sake, Willy,’ exclaimed Stedman, ‘don't talk like that about Whit- man! Why, it isn’t fe! If any of the W hitmanite hould hear you they would hound you for the rest of your life.’ “*Well, Ned,’ I replied, ‘Whitman and ill his ites, if there are any, are we leome to know my opinion ¢ him —and I faney he and they have known it for many, many years if not, surely it has not been for lack of being told!’ ‘L often wondered that Stedman—a man of genius, high principled and no coward could take such eor erations into account when expressing critical judgment I sup- pose it was hi hort-sighted streak that used him to do so. If you are going to \ ‘ write criticism there is, in all definitive ut terances, only one wai *Say as you think and pe ik it from your hearts!’ “Stedman frequently seemed to me to be very pu apout old Walt’s blather The only thing that tiresome old codger ever did that w of any real im portance ‘was | going into the hospitals to nurse wounded and sick soldiers. That vas noble and splendid.” It ;+ an odd coimneidence at least I think it i that the last interchange of letter het wee my father and Whitelaw Reid related in large part to Whitmar Winter was employed in the summer of 1865 by Sidney Howard Gay, acting for Horace Greeley, a lramatic editor of The New York vears later lribune When, seven or eight Reid obtained control of that newspaper in its day perhaps the most distinctive and influential published —my father's engageme with it was confirmed by him The exp t understanding was that Winter was to be absolutely untram meled, and while Reid rem ed in direct personal charge of The Tribune I am bound to say he was Later, there came a change A few days after his resignation from The Tribune he received from Whitelaw Reid then aboard a steamship lying in the bay off Staten Island—the last communi- cation with which the Ambassador to the Court of St lame graciously addressed THE SATURDAY EVENING POST I Rez Ig By Jefferson Winter to him—to which he returned the follow- ing reply: STATEN ISLAND, August 20, 1909. My dear Reid: I have received your kind note of August fourteenth, and I am glad to have it. It is pleasant to know that you care for my books, and still more so to know that you agree with me in some of the views they express, particularly as to Poe and Whitman. Poor Poe! How much better and happier his life might have been if while living he had received even a tithe of the apprecia- tion that has been expressed for him in recent years. As to Whitman—he was a clever man; I have never denied that. Somewhere among my voluminous writings there is a long and careful examination of his works, commending everything that I could find to admire in them. It is the insistence that he is the great representative American poet that has prompted a word of protest on that sub- ject. I do not forget O Captain, My Cap- tain! The spirit of it is noble and tender, but it would be a much better lyric if the last lines were poetry and not prose. Do you recall Macaulay’s prose descrip- tion of the death of Micaiah Browning on the deck of the ship that relieved London- derry? I surmise that it must be a great relief for you to get away, even for a little while, from the exactions, formalities and inces- sant responsibilities of your great office in London. To-morrow I am going away to Maine for ten days or two weeks, if 1 can spare that much time from labor with my pen. I greatly need the change, for I am tired and ill by reason of great exertions and recent agitation and distress of mind I thank you for your repeated invitation to visit Wrest Park. It must be a beautiful place. I should like to see it and to see it under your guidance. I wonder if I shall ever see England again? I long to do so but I doubt I trust that your copy of the Vellum Edition of my Poems, for which you were so kind as to subscribe—a _ publication which was projected, planned in every de- tail and carried through the press by my son Willy, who put all his own money into it in order that there might be a fine edition of my Poems—reached you and pleased you I have changed the title of my tribute to you to Laurel, which I think an improve- ment. The reference in the note to the Earl of Halifax means of course Charles Montagu, the friend of Addison—a man whom I am a thousand miles behind, but whose example I have ever tried to emu- late. Faithfully yours, WILLIAM WINTER. Mr. Winter's Whitman Parody There was of course a radical and insur- mountable temperamental antipathy be- tween such natures as those of Winter and the Celebrator of Himself that would al- ways have kept them asunder. But the real cause of Whitman's personal dislike was, I have no doubt, Winter's frequent satire of him and his writings. I never knew any person so quick to see through humbug and toploftical presumption and pretense, or so contemptuous of it, as my father wwas. Once near the time of the breaking up of the original Bohemian circle at Pfaff’s, Winter, before a gathering of those friends, recited the following parody of one of Whitman's effusions, which has not been before published and which Whitman—though he affected to be blandly tolerant of and amused by it never forgave: Tue TORCHBEARERS \ PAN FOR THE FOURTH OF JULY After Walt Whitman I celebrate the Fourth of July! And what I celebrate you shall celebrate 3 And all together we'll go in strong for a Over seas, hither from the gates of the morning, Jubilant, haughty, the Glad Day of America returns! Comrade Americanos, Foreign Elements, German persons, Irish, and Otherwise, Hurrah for our side! When, terrible in the midnight, begins the wild roar of cannon; When the ear-cracking cracker awakes me with its continual cracks; When punch and confusion are in the house and ‘‘the mourning call” is brought to me in a tumbler; When the Stars and Stripes hang round in a very miscellaneous manner ; When Broadway is entirely given up to the patriotic youth—when Young America bristles; When the Police are in a state of mind and the Aldermen in a state of body; When, in point of fact, there is the devil to pay generally Then is the Fourth of July, and I, rising, behold it. I descend to the pavement, I merge with the crowd, I roat exrultant, I am an Amer- ican Citizen, I feel that every man I meet owes me twenty-five cents. Se lah ! I don’t know if other folks see so much as I do, but I incline to think they don't. Especially I think they don’t see paying me a quarte ?. {ft any rate they don’t pay it! N "import ! J see itall the same a kaleido- scope of flowing and glancing coins! I salute you. Eagles Female figures mothers of luxury! Stand by me on this occasion, Eagles and Females! Stand by me that I may celebrate—that I may witness and greet the ascending shapes! birds of success! The Shape arise. of urchins, ragged and dirty-faced, popping off pistols at unwary pedes- frians; Shapes of citizens upon the house-lops, patriotic, hurling the explosive torpedo; Shapes of Aldermen and Members of Com- mon Councils, drunk with enthusiasm and Old Jamaica; Shapes of Omnibus drivers, idiotic and bawling, the crackers muttering under their horses’ feet; Shapes of the prayers that are disappointed of their prayers Prayers of The Fulton-Street-Daily-Prayer Meeting, adjoined to the Fifth Inst. for reasons Shapes of the mild ecclesiastics, sleek, black- coated, white about the neck, enraged at the cheerful noises ; Shapes Shape : of the inebriated editors, the Peck- sniffs of The Times and The Worl 1; Shapes of jolly printers, festive, uproarious, who won't on any terms go home till morning; Shapes of the papers that are not published next day - Shapes of steamboats that dot the harbor and the river, carrying the excursionists to rural delights; Shapes of the rural delights—the frisky locust, the bug, omnipresent, the lirely worm, the flirtetion in the bush; Shapes of the bulky Germans, slow of appre- hension, crinking their Lager Bier ; Pipe shapes; shapes of the smoke cloud, Trish persons enve l rye d; Shapes of the Irish persons brawling, the whisky mastering their brains; Shapes of the stars, and shadows, alert for the wranglers and those who fight. Shapes of the sharpers, courtesans, whis- kered persons, collecting revenue ; Shapes of counter jumpers, redolent shapes, mint juleps attending; Shapes of women, fair and otherwise, hungry for ice cream and for lemonade ; Shapes of the ice cream and the lemonade disappearing shapes, the contact of sweet lips assisting; Shapes of adventurous persons in balloons, my own shape soaring in the balloon of my fancy And then, beautiful to see, the Stars and Stripes proudly fluttering over all. August 7,1920 The Shapes arise! The shape of a Civic Procession, a Mayor in the midst, a Polyphemus, having a single eye;* The shape of a Governor, military persons attending, a noise of horns and drums; The shape of the Speaker, the air excessively sawing, coat tails streaming in the wind; The shape of Mr. Yeadon’s Orator, Patriot, Sage, Cicero of America, Laudator of Washington, Apostle of Charity, High Priest of the Union, and Friend of Mankind ;+ The shape of the philosopher, seeing all things, thinking what it is all about. That philosopher am I. I chant the American Eagle, the biqgest bird out—out, too, with his mother’s knowl edge. I chant America, the great Ostrich of Nation destined to swallow up all the rest. I chant the Fourth of July, Birthday of tha Republic, glorious anniversary! And what I celebrate you shall celebrate—as I had the honor of saying in the first place ndo Wood lward Everett. There was one other writer of authentic genius who occasionally wrote to The Saturday Press for whom my father ever entertained a profound respect and admira- tion; whom he would have been glad and proud to meet, but with whom he was not destined to become personally acquainted until the sands of life were almost run out—and that was the simple, kindly, sturdy man, beloved of so many of tix present generation as John o’ Birds —other- wise John Burroughs. Luncheon for Lions Among the friendly acquaintances of my father in his latter days were a genial, accomplished artist, Orlando Rouland by name, and his wife. Mrs. Rouland had ar extraordinarily strong weakness for pro viding luncheons for “‘lions.’”” She and her talented husband were—and I doubt not still are—intimate friends of John Bur- roughs, and she long and_ ingeniously schemed and contrived to bring them to gether. In 1911—the year in which Andrew Carnegie, William Dean Howells, Burroughs and Winter all were seventy-five, or near it—-she tried to assemble that quartet for luncheon in the pleasant studio of her hus band, but my father put a peremptory quietus on the project. “That would be a merry meeting, wouldn't it?”’ he exclaimed to me. ‘Four antediluvian fossils seated about a table matching chestnuts and privately wonder- ing which one of us will be knocked for next! Ina manner of speaking—no! Old Carnegie may be a prodigy of commercial acumen, but certainly he is one of the most commonplace persons I have ever met and, to me, just about as interesting as a tallow candle. “As for Mr. Howells —he is a talented writer, but he does not like me and I do not like him. I have never forgiven him for his wholly unwarranted reflections upon my dead and gone comrades at Pfaff’s “Burroughs is a man of genius whom I have always admired and respected and whom I should be glad to know.” Mrs. Rouland— pursuant of her purpose to bring Winter and. Burroughs into con- junction—invited us to visit her and her husband at a little place known as The Fish House, upon the shores of Little Peconic Bay, Long Island. At the same time she invited Burroughs to come. The issue is thus characteristically recorded in my father’s journal: [1915. October.} 25. Monday. Willy and I went to Peconic by the Long Island Railroad—Greenport Division from the Pennsylvania Station —my first journey from it. Arrived about 6:30. John Bur- roughs was aboard the train, and I saw him for the first time. We met on the station platform at Peconic. He said, ‘Mr. Winter, we meet at last—in the dark!’ Carriage was waiting for us, and he and Willy and I were driven to Orlando Rou- land’s cottage at Nassau Point—about three miles—and very kindly received by (Continued on Page 40)

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 39

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40 (Continued from Page 38 him and his wif We remained until Fri day morning, e 29th, when we took leave of them and came back ‘The y twa eacet it 4 ple i ant tne place delightful. On Thursday we rambled the beac! ind in the wood O Wednesda ve ¢ yed a ‘ to the ‘ I t Mag ent J pect p f the sea— pure air—rick WW gethe ‘ Had muctl ‘ rsa M B rug while I w R ! place 10st] ibout literar pe He notable for m pl t of character, tru fulne of mind, i r of peect ind he posse es alert faculty of obese t n and eagerly inter- ested in if r g 0 take great eare of } elf ind usly «dé res all t ye i he « ue of every moment of life [ asked him about Carlyle [whom Burroug! ‘ ted his voice and so or Burroug iid he had a good voice but gave me no idea of it; said he laughed loudly after saying anything specially bitter Chere or was a few years ago—in Ulster ¢ N \ a singular, de- lightful place, half home, half hotel, called Yama Fart maintained by a shrewd and yer ti pe ni med Seamalr who professed a profound d to me~— because the two men were in every way di milar amazing idmiration of my father. To that Patmos in the wilder: we made a it not long before out expeditl to the Peconic Fish House, and there my father, among other things, reread the Writings of surroug! who often \ ere, and where there was 1 presentation set of his work One after noon while reading that author's essay on Whitman, which bears the highfalutin title of The Flight of the Eagle, » made ome comments which, as usually, 1 re corded; and wi worth pre ery ry here ‘Listen to tl Billy,” he said suddenly, and then read the following passage from the book in his hand: a there not a decay i deliberate, ad dread of whe paternity, trange abnegation ar maternity and literary ideals and exuality, of mmong us, and in our ocial types of men and women? leason of Nature. | take it, is that asane sen- uality must be preserved at all hazards.’”’ The great The Wisdom of Colonel Yell Rrother Johr aid my father, looking up from the volume believes, it seen in a sane sexuality Ile reminds me of the funeral oration of Colonel Yeil, in the wild days ef old San Francisco. In the course of | } the impa llud- deceased, that addre ioned orator, a y to the reputation of the vociferated ‘They ay he drinked liquor. Well, who the hell don't?’ Look about lence to be you There i abundant ev een that there no abnegation, strange or otherwise, of parenthood But a sane exuality was not the Whitman ideal. “Emerson was quite right when he designated the sexual impulse as that greatly overfreighted instinct. Sensuality in the meaning of Burroughs in this pa we: in the understar ling of Whitman at all time IS Inexpre bly le precious to mankind than true and pure piritual ty Many of Walt’s published remarks on exual matters are mply gro indecency I knew W. Whitman somewhat better than John Burroughs did 1 | venture to say that 1 know and understand his published writings at least as well. He had talent uch as it was; and he did one great thing his work in the hospital ‘But if much of what old Walter wrote could be utterly obliviated the world would be the better. In some ways he was an Nordau’s est UNCONSCION ANTE uml ug mate and mment ure mong the most atisfactory I have read. I am sorry Bur roughs in any way lends his great influence to Whitman’s support 1 recently heard of a book ca led An Ay proact to Whitmar One of these day if | can get round to it, I think I'll do a little approaching to Whit man and his disciples myself. I think I might handle the subject effectively in verse.” But he never did get round to it. \ few days after our return from Yama Farms my father wrote this letter: STATEN ISLAND, N. Y October 24, 1915 Vy dear Mr. B With respect to you | have had an experience kindred rro igi THE SATURDAY with that of Tubal in his quest for Jessica. I often came where I did hear of you, but never found you--greatly to my regret. I was lately at Yama, where you were ex- pected to arrive, but you did not come. Your spirit haunts that place and your name was often on our lips. While there I read again many of your Essays, espe- cially those relative to Carlyle—an author who first interested me sixty years ago, and who recently has been much in my thoughts, because of the war that has been made by the Germans whom he so much admired. Your Scotch tour must have been delight- ful. You certainly have made it delightful for your readers —as indeed you have made many other things delightful for them. I hope that we shall soon meet. I know from what our friend Mrs. Rouland has said that you have spoken kindly of me, and I am glad that I have a place, however humble, in your gracious thought. With deep esteem and all good wishes, Faithfully yours, WILLIAM WINTER. Black-Letter Days Among the letters that passed between Winter and Stedman relating to Criticism and Poetry are the following — those by my father kindly returned to me by Miss Stedman: STATEN ISLAND, January 16, 1883. My dear Stedman: I am glad for your sake to have written the article. An article exposing plagiarism of Stedman's work.| No, I did not enjoy doing it. There is but one enjoyment in human life, and that is silence; there is but one com- fort, and that is sleep. I get very little of either is an ingenious rascal—but also he is a fool. How could he suppose he could escape detection? I am glad you did not write a critical paper for The Overland, and I wish that you would not write critical papers at all. Poetry is your field. Criticism is always second fiddle usually street hand organ. And since you are not obliged to write it, I think you might well leave that instru- ment to be played upon by fools, like , or drudges, like me, Here have I been tending a hurdy-gurdy all my life from sheer poverty and compulsion. When I look back upon the years that I have been obliged thus to waste my heart is sick al- most to despair. God help the man of letters in this country if he is born to poverty and the accursed maw of journal ism gets hold of him! Well, I can reflect at all events that I have done my duty; that my pen has always been used upon the side of genius, refinement, virtue and beauty in life and in art. But I don’t want to see anybody else pulverized in the same mill And I don't like to see a poet— such as you are bothering himself to write criticism of other poets. There is only about one man in a thou- sand who knows what you mean by poetry, and he needs no essay on the subject to instruct him. The least things that you write are too good for the wretched age of mediocrity, babble and tattle in which we live. All I say is— since God made you a poet, sing on and let your music find its way to the hearts that can hear it. Faithfully yours, WILLIAM WINTER. 71 West Firty-FouRTH, STREET, New York, January 36, 1883. My dear Winter: To day Is my blac k- letter day. I am penned up with rheuma- tism, and venting my spleen by writing letters to all sorts of suckling authors who have bored me most recently with their own. To diversify this grim exercise let me put in one letter, for the love of it, of a different kind- and answer to the hail, across our leaden sea, of the truest and sweetest and most loyal fellow of the craft whom Time still spares to us! Your bark may be, as your signal shows me, overladen, laboring under monotonous skies through bitter waves, but there are many who would like to share the voyage with you—and even you and I do sometimes sing our songs in the night watches. There is doubtless a kind of irony in the fate that dooms to persistent chains and slavery the very na- tures that need and are made for the freest, the most untethered ways of life. We both had the same early range and atmosphere |Oh, no, we didn't! Note by W. W.], the same aspirations, in New England. We both made our own beds soon after—sent out with all the needs and tastes of poets EVENING POST and students, and with nothing to main- tain them. It took me years to use myself to the cage. How I beat my head against the bars! The struggle was awful. Be- sides, those who begin now begin in dif- ferent times. I suppose you scarcely will understand it, but it is God’s truth that any chance of freedom that has come to me has come so late in life that I have lost the art of find- ing my way out of the old network; again it only half came a few years ago, with all my literary plans ten years behindhand, and with half my old strength and courage worn out of me. One thing I long since vowed to secure the privilege of choosing my own kind of writing, be the amount never so small. To do this, I was willing to sell groceries, and even to be called that fearful thing-—a poet broker. You shoot your arrows to my heart in your utterly just and righteous depreciation of my surcease from song and volubility of speech. I have whole ora- tions pent up within me—an insane desire to try my voice again. Unfortunately, having written, in the preaching weakness of a New Englander, that Victorian Poets, I was led to begin the companion work, which has dragged its slow length along and~— with its thousand hindrances— kept me in its coils. But the springtime shall revive, shall it not, for both you and me? Your very letter shows the same poet’s heart—you keep it green—you throb with sensibility—-a quality unknown to the younger brood of artisans, for such in truth they are. I say nothing of your unique and preéminent position as a dramatic critic, for 1 know that is nothing to you a poet. But so long as such a nature as yours is near me, and still in the form, I shall feel that life is worth living, and that your best utterances and my own are still to be heard. And you may be sure that I am always, with all honor and friendship, Most affectionately yours, E. C. STEDMAN. A Message of Good-Will NEW BRIGHTON, STATEN ISLAND, January 28, 1883. My dear Stedman: Your exceedingly kind letter is received. I appreciate and deeply feel all that you say, and your sym- pathy and goodness have gone straight to my heart. I am sure I need not tell you that in referring to Criticism I never even dreamed of undervaluing any sort of work performed by you. The inferiority of the thing itself, as compared with the creative arts, was all I meant to suggest. I have felt of late uncommonly depressed, and have seen, with some bitterness perhaps, the prevalence of folly and ignorance. And I realize deeply that youth is gone. My health, too, is breaking with the stress and strain, and an infinite and desolate weari- ness often comes upon me. The same un- ending necessity of effort exists, and I continue to make all the effort that I can, if not all that is required. At times recently I have had to exert a power of will that is almost superhuman to force my tired body to rise and go about and compel my worn mind to think and to speak. I cannot resort to stimulant, or if I do it maddens me and makes me terribly ill. My sleep is fitful and broken. You will understand the fever and the gloom that such a condition must engender; and so if they made themselves manifest in any way in my letter to you I am sure you will forgive my seeming petulance, and not impute it to unkindness. I don’t know what the future will bring forth. For the sake of my wife and chil- dren I am willing and glad to labor. Per- haps the conditions will grow lighter and more humane through a more _ perfect abnegation of self. It is the drooping elas- ticity and breaking strength that worry me most—for whatever I write must have nerve and freshness. I was considerably cheered upon writing in the paper of last Friday an article on Mary Anderson’s acting, because I thought that it showed still the existence of the power to think in a broad and breezy manner. When I have lost that faculty I shall die. I am writing all this because your sym- pathetic words have so deeply touched and cheered me; and also because I don’t want you to think that I meant to growl at you. If I were not sincerely and deeply attached to you, and wishful for your best happiness and increased renown, I should not have August 7,1920 touched on that subject. And if I were not jaded and ill I should have touched on it far more cheerily. Heaven bless and prosper you in every- thing! I hope this letter will find you quit of the rheumatism and able to withstand the fogs and drenches of this dismal period. I was at Wallack’s Theater last night till twelve; then at The Tribune—and wrote an article—then in a coffee cellar, and at 3 A. M. to a bed in the Stevens House. I came home this morning through ice and mist, and now the fog bell is ringing in the dark night, and the sky is a dripping cave, and all Nature seems stagnant. Thank God, I can stay in the house! And now I am going to my bed to read Shakspere. That's my solace! Here’s hoping we may soon meet! Always faithfully yours, To E. C. Stedman. WILLIAM WINTER. Some Generous Praise I give one more selection from the Sted- man collection of letters —one upon which he had indorsed: “‘The most generous letter I ever received from a brother poet.” STATEN ISLAND, November 18, 1897. My dear Stedman: I have had the new book of your Poems for sixteen days, and I have read it again and again. It is full of beauty. The first thing that caught my fancy was the Nocturne; then the fourth stanza in The Tomb of Chaucer; then the fourth stanza of The Constant Heart; then the last lines of Noél; then the last two stanzas of The World Well Lost; then the last eleven lines of A Vigil; then the fourth stanza of A Sea Change. And so onward! I mean that in those bits I felt the beating of the heart and heard the old-time music—as when life was young. Your Art is always exquisite. Among all the American poets I do not know one who is your equal in the easy, affluent, seem- ingly spontaneous use of the classical forms. The third stanza of The Death of Bryant, the third and eleventh stanzas of Corda Concordia and the sixth stanza of Ariel are perfection —especially in that respect. The whole of Ariel is very noble, very elo- quent—love and grief within it and trem- bling all through it, and the flight sustained grandly to the close. Byron would have been proud to have written the lines on Page 148 —“‘ Here is no mangrove,” and so on. Few of the Old Ballads—-an immortal delight they are have such touches of pathos and sad beauty as may be found in the last four stanzas of The Castle Light. The poem on Jamaica is perfect; the last two stanzas of The Creole Lover’s Song is pure poetry; and I am greatly taken with the night scene in The Rose and the Jasmine. . . . I go back again and again to Ariel, feeling very deeply its loveliness of form. I never eared so much for Shelley as for Byron though of course I was swept away by the Adonaisand the wonderful Epipsychidion dreadful name—and some other things But I know the Shelley worship, and I feel the stress of high emotion in your superb tribute. This is a very imperfect way of express- ing my gratitude for the book, but I am very grateful for it, and proud of its author, and happy to think that I possess the friendship of such a spirit. My love is always with you. You said something about getting a heap out of life. Out of Nature—yes. Out of life—no. People with rare exceptions—do not interest me at all—but the pageant of Nature fills me with inexpressible delight. I have never yet seen a day when my mind was not oppressed with care, and personally my chief ambition is to sleep. The moment I wake and realize myself I am wretched; but I have hours—looking at the sea or musing in the woods or gazing at an old church when nobody is near—that are celestial; hours when I forget myself and everything except beauty. Once I dreamed that I could write and had wild ideas about being a poet. Now I detest writing, and if I could help it I would never publish anything. To get away from mankind and the infernal folly of the world—that would be the nearest possible approach to happi- ness upon this earth! Good night. It gives me joy to think of you and of your beautiful book and of your success in the great art of literature. God be with you! Ever affectionately, Your old friend, WILLIAM WINTER. (Continued on Page 42)

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§ : f , | } } \ f . ‘jl > if , | yy THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ‘Lis not strange that so many families should believe the Hupmobile to be the best car of its class in the world. ‘Lhe fact 1s, that this car renders such long-continued service, at such slight cost, that this world- wide conviction was bound to come. Almost any Hupmobile owner will tell you, if asked, how useful his car is to all the members of his family, and how it 1s literally counted on to save time, incon- venience, and actual expense.

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42 Continued from Page 40) What constitutes a great actor? Some persons maintain that there is not and can- uch a creature on the alleged yround that the actor’s occupation is in- illy petty and unimportant; that he eates nothing, and re ignifies nothing. Punch has no feelings,” id Doctor lohnsor speaking about Garriek ‘*He lap hump ! Da ind call meelf Richard the Third! Though I am proud to call myself one f the most reverent though one of the t of the disciples of The Great Cham, ! enture to think that observation of his : idle— if indeed he meant what he said. Ile sometimes asserted the exact contrary to} convictions out of mere love of argu ment At any rate, and whatever the doc- rr really thought about the matter, I have mnng been sure that greatness is po ble in iting and that there have been many actor proper! designated great in their calling, which I deem a beautiful and noble ( In fact, I believe that ¢ imphell ex- pressed only the mple truth in his lines it f farewell to The Pride of the British tage, even though those lines have some- times been mentioned with toploftical con- deacension by persor who never could write anything even one-tenth as good: But hy the mighty actor brought Illusions perfe Verse ceases to be airy thought, i triumph come ind culpture to be dumb! And my mind is very clear and free as to why the hould be deemed great in the quality they profe ed yreat ones of the stage I have ranked, and ilways shall rank, that most delicate and lovely of all American comedians, Joseph Jefferson High among those Memories of a Great Actor But tastes and judgments — at least opin- ion differ. The other day, reading in a volume of reminiscences called Sixty Years of the Theatre —a book which, by the way, in its total substance forcibly brought back to my mind Jefferson's satirical remark that “all the good actors are dead," and finally prompted a little doubt as to whether any good actors ever lived — I found that its author, the respected dramatic critic, J. R. lowse, holds a very different opinion “ lefferson,”” he declares, “had not the gift of impersonation. And,” he maintain ‘this is proved by the fact that he pro duced but one masterpiece, his Rip Van Winkle.” The requirement which that veteran commentator poses as the test of histrionic greatness namely, that a player must provide for each and every part performed a personality not only eparate and distinct, but also absolutely unrelated; a personality which bears no resemblance to that revealed in any other requirement, embodiment sa wholly unreasonable re quirement, posing a wholly inapplicable test Pushed to its ultimate conclusion, uch requirement would enthrone the mar ionettes of the advanced Mr. Gordon Craig, or the lightning-change artists, such as De Vries, or the multivoiced transformation performer, Fregoli, as the only authentic great actors The test of Mr. Towse has never been met by any of the great actors of the past — Betterton, Garrick, Kemble, Mrs. Siddons, Kean, Macready, Rachel, Phelps, Booth, Terry, Saivini, Bernhardt and never will be met by any of those of all the ayes to come because it is, in the nature of things, impossible to meet it. The hump on crook-backed Dickon o’ Glou'ster is part of a disguise put on—but it is the voive of the ictor that speak the words alike of Richard and of Benedick, of Ham- let and of Lear A little pigment made the complexions of Conrad and Othello, but it was the eves of Salvini that beamed on the outlaw’s little daughter and blazed on the victim of the Moor It would be useful to maintain those issertions at length, examining in detail the whole critical attitude and method of Mr lowse--which are representativeand which are not helpful to the theater and the cause of acting. There is, in fact, real need of such study of contemporary dramatic criticism, of criticising the eritics— and presently elsewhere | shall venture to take up that subject and to address myself to that task It would require too much space to do it here and now But as to Jefferson's quality and rank, in the same book to which I have already THE SATURDAY referred, Mr. Towse specifies the public as “the soundest of critics in the long run,” so that it becomes pertinent to recall that Jefferson acted in Mexico, Canada, Aus- tralia, New Zealand, South America, Great Britain and Ireland, as well as throughout the United States, and that “‘the soundest of all critics,” the public, everywhere that he appeared and during more than half a century—a pretty long run—crowded to see him act, and everywhere—-with com- mingled applause, laughter and tears acclaimed him great Jefferson, it is true, did not touch the very highest and greatest of parts— Hamlet, Lear, Othello, Macbeth, Saul, and so fol- lowing; but he did touch many diverse characters, and he refined, humanized and exalted everything he touched; exhibited and enforced some of the loveliest and best attributes and instincts of the human heart; did that through the medium of an art as delicate, yet as strong, definite and complete, as ever has been displayed on the stage, and so served and helped his time and the world Even the least of us who possess vivid recollections of Joseph Jefferson may—and, I think, should— record them. I knew him well during all the days of my life until he died; I saw him often, both in the pri- vacy of home and abroad, under all sorts of conditions; I scrutinized and studied everything he did or said in my presence whether on the stage or off of it—so mi- nutely that even now I could reproduce—as often I have reproduced —his every move- ment, gesture, intonation and inflection. He is dead and gone; estimate of his acting and influence, now and hereafter, must de- pend on the consensus of recorded opinions and judgments about him; and so I beg to bear my testimony—as a lifelong student of the stage and one who not only often sat among Jefferson's audience but who also often acted with him and opposite to him—that he was to the tips of his nails, to the very ends of his hair, a thorough, finished, great actor, and that he certainly did produce more than one masterpiece of Impersonation What was it that Jefferson did which was great? It was this: He took themes and characters of common life and gave them—in Hamlet’s phrase— ‘the very form and pressure of the time’; made them actual, palpable, breathing entities, so suf- fusing his embodiments of them with grace, weetness and charm that, though taken from common life, they never were common- place; and while doing this he so perfectly concealed all the expedients of art through which he wrought, in copying and simulat- ing Nature, that he produced and sustained the effect of absolute reality. His true place in the theater is preéminently that of a poet among actors. And as a ministrant of act- ing he never pained or harmed anybody; and he kelped—literally— millions of his fellow creatures. Whenever and wherever I saw him in public | invariably noted one fact of decisive significance — namely, that all the persons in his presence— even though tears might be in their eyes or upon their cheeks— were smiling; were, at least for the moment, obviously gentler, happier and better beings because he was with them. Jefferson Always Jefferson The chief complaint against him artis- tically was—and is—that you could al- ways recognize Jefferson as the actor giv- ing Jefferson's performances. It was—and is a silly complaint, and it was no more true of Jefferson than of any other great artist, working in any medium. That which was always recognizable in his acting was the style of the artist, as it always hould be recognizabse and always is in the work of a true artist. Nobody expects or desires that Shakspere should write like Doctor Johnson or that Goldsmith should write like Francis Bacon. Sargent’s great portraits are not less great because they are unmistakably Sargent’s. Tommaso Salvini was able to give that special performance which he designated Othello precisely because the attributes which he revealed in it were inherent in his own personality —and are expressly enumerated by him as being so. A Jefferson perform- ance was always and unmistakably such, but all his representative performances were embodiments of radically different and vividly differentiated assumed iden- tities. Jefferson as Rip Van Winkle, confronting the silent specters of the pirate crew; as Bob Acres, practicing his “‘a-la-sach-shay” EVENING POST before a pier glass or proposing “‘to indite the challenge with red ink, Sir Lucius”; as the harassed Golightly in the moment when he supposes himself to have found a pocket- ful of money; as Hugh de Brass suggesting that ‘‘we had better sit down” when the Norman Conquest is stated as the starting point of the story to which he is invited to listen; as Doctor Pangloss pocketing a gratuity with the remark that “honesty is the best policy”; or plaintively expostu- lating ‘‘Don’t damn Plato! The bees buzzed round his mellifluous mouth’’; as poor old Caleb Plummer, momentarily in his agony of joy shrinking from the son whom he has long thought dead as he utters his heart- rending cry, ‘My boy! My son—that was drowned—don't tell me—don’t tell me that he is alive!’’ Every one of those characters was as distinct and different as the personations of any one actor ever were or ever could be. During perhaps my closest association with Jefferson I was an actor—had been so for years, and expected to devote the rest of my life to acting. I observed his per- formance of that recognition scene in the character of Plummer— to dwell on an un- hackneyed example of his art—more than fifty times; observed it with the same close attention and in the same spirit that a trained watchmaker peers into the works of a watch. I looked to see how the works went round in order to learn. I knew exactly what he was going to say and do, and when and where and how he was going to say and do it—-and I never saw the scene without paying the great actor the tribute of a sob that I could not repress and tears which I could not restrain. Jefferson's Genius in Comedy The best—the most informing—com- ment, I think, ever written about Jeffer- son's beautiful portrayal of the lovable and pathetic old toymaker of Dickens’ is this: “It was easy to see that the whole of that nature and experience was developed from within— that in the infirmity and the grief of the heroic old man it was the heart that trembled and not merely the fingers.” Jefferson was not only superb— because of his fidelity to fact and because of the deli- cacy, refinement, loveliness and exaltation of his effects—in pathos; he was equally fine in the more intricate and difficult realm of comedy. It is an old and well-worn epi- gram, that of Garrick’s, which declares that **comedy is serious business,’”’ but it states an important truth about acting. It may be greater to act tragedy than to act comedy; it certainly is easier. No even tolerable actor ever really fails, for example, as Hamlet. Any player with ability enough to look the part, to speak the words, do the business and avoid falling over the furniture and the footlights can attain at the very least respectable success as Othello or Iago; the situations and the text will carry him. It is not so with com- edy. An actor intrinsically unfunny can kill the funniest of situations—a_ lethal potency I have often seen exercised in con- temporaneous drama as well as in de- liciously comie characters of Shakspere and old comedy. Yet what a blessing and benefaction true comedy is, and what a debt of gratitude the public owes to a true comedian! I was, so to speak, brought up in the theater and nourished on the classic drama. By the time I was twenty I fairly oozed Shakspere and dripped the legitimate. My personal taste inclines decisively toward poetic trag- edy, and the natural bent of my mind is toward solemn and sad themes. Yet I have often wondered, and— though I be ridiculed for doing it-1 venture to suggest as an inquiry— within the period fairly to be considered, which plays have done the most good to humanity. diffused the most of benefit and help and cheer, Rip and The Rivals, as presented by Joseph Jefferson, or Hamlet and Othello? I wonder! And since Jefferson bade the world good night, who has really acted Rip or Acres, Plum- mer or Golightly? Jefferson was, take him for all in all and whether on the stage or off, the funniest man I ever saw. One at least of the cardinal virtues of an actor I can freely claim: I never was guilty of guying any perform- ance in which I participated, and it has always been almost impossible to break me up, as the actors’ phrase goes— that is, to cause me to laugh upon the stage. In one scene, however, which I often acted with Jefferson, I had extreme difficulty in pre- serving my self-control, though there was August 7,1920 no intention on his part of making me laugh. On the contrary he was incensed on perceiving my risibility and adjured me most earnestly, saying: “ For heaven's sake, my boy, don’t you laugh! If you laugh the audience won't!” It was at the moment in The Rivals when Acres reveals to Captain Absolute his hair done up in curl papers. The mixture of embarrassment, naive vanity, earnest- ness, folly, sapience, drollery, solicitude, exultation and utterly comic absurdity in Jefferson’s countenance at that moment, and above all the expression in his eyes as, after glancing furtively about, he suddenly removed his hat and displayed his sandy- red hair in pickle, was ludicrous beyond all words. He was photographed in the pose, but the photograph—well enough in its way— hardly even suggests the irresistible comicality of the actor, which was always the cause of a gale of delighted laughter from his audience. I seldom could look squarely at him during that moment, but directed my gaze over his up-stage shoulder. My professional association with Jeffer- son began unexpectedly. That premier director and theatrical manager and very great man, Augustin Daly, died suddenly in Paris on June 7, 1899. I had been for several years a member of his dramatic company, beginning with him as a super and working my way up; but in the spring of that year, in consequence of an unim- portant personal disagreement, had left it. Daly, however, though I did not know it till long after his death—he was not com- municative, and in all the time that I was with him he only once spoke a word of approval to me-—had been kind enough to say of me that he thought “something can be made of him, as at least he is willing to be taught.”” And he had, as Miss Ada Rehan—always my kind and helpful friend—privately informed me, promised her to give me a trial in the splendid part of Prince Hal, in King Henry LV, a play which he had long held in preparation. His original plan was to have Miss Rehan play Hal, and she rehearsed the part. But she was ill and she felt it was a foolish under- taking for her, anyway. That capable actor and genial good fellow, Charles Richman, was to have been the Hotspur. A Day With Sol Smith Russell On Daly’s death all the plans for his revival of King Henry IV went glimmer- ing. The costumes eventually were bought by Richard Mansfield and used in his presentment of King Henry V, and I found myself not only out of employment but also, as I was—on account of my father, William Winter—very much _ per- sona non grata with the holy theatrical syndicate, in a serious dilemma—the lead- ing spirit of that syndicate having decreed that I should not be permitted to act on the stage of any theater in which it had an interest. Jefferson, my godfather, had been good enough to think me a clever boy, and had always been kindly in his attitude toward me, even in the days at his Hohokus home, when I used to break his greenhouse lights, stab his cherished century plants and steal his pears. I therefore ventured to ask for his recommendation and influence to ob- tain employment in the theatrical company of the late Sol Smith Russell. With that purpose in view, Jefferson asked me to visit him at his lovely home at Buzzard’s Bay, which I did—there meeting Russell, who came over from some neighboring resort for an afternoon. He proved to be in wretched health. He told several extremely comic stories. He manifested no interest whatever ir me, and presently he returned whence he came—bearing with him, to my lively disgust, a fine mess of trout taken by me from Jefferson's private preserve. A day or two later the old actor said to my father: ‘‘ The syndicate members never try to interfere with me. If they did I'd break their hearts by buying the New York Academy of Music and playing a farewell engagement at triple prices. I have been watching and studying Willy, and I should like to have him in my company. But I have nothing to offer him except Falkland in The Rivals, and I suppose he wouldn't take that.” My father, knowing my necessity, re- plied that he thought I would be glad to take anything I could get, and on the part being offered to me I instantly accepted it. Though I had several minor disagree- ments with Jefferson—he being old and (Continued on Page 44) Ee

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SATURDAY EVENING POST

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Continued from Page 42 a trifle testy if not immedi- and I being young and foolish—my professional association with him was delightful and invaluable; in fact me ways the happiest time of my life and ne treasured as an ever-precious memory. It was indeed impossible to be with him ind not to love him. He was the soul of irtesy, kindness and humor. His interest ometime tely deferred to, 1 his art was as fresh and enthusiastic as though he were standing on the threshold f his first success. He was one of the best tage directors that ever lived, and no actor 1 have had a more pleasant or helpful place than one in his company. Alone in the stilly night, ‘‘ere Slumber’s hain has bound me, fond mem'ry brings the light of other days around me,” and ways with a special sparkle of ple asure, tinged with longing, as my remembrance dwells on that 1899 visit to Crow's Nest, a lefferson’s home was named My dear father, indeed a mine of memories, was there—brilliant, alert, vital, humorous, ob- ervant as a hawk, quic k as thought itself, and—like Falstaff—not only witty himself but the cause that wit was in other men. Jefferson, reveling in the company of hi friend, gleefully recalling other time whentthe bloom was on the rye and wher they heard the chimes at midnight—and at dewy morn— was at his happiest and best whimsical, sapient, droll, full of anecdote indsportivefun. There was, too, a ve ritable colony of his offspring scattered round Charley, Tom and Joe, Jr., each with a f y ~ Charley had two families, his first vife having died years before— Willy, my ther’s namesake, William Winter Jeffer- of gracele nischief and irrepressible mirth; a sort of human Puck, madly enamored of the entire female sex and bent on wooing it in toto to the strains of a tortured guitar; and littl Frank, slender, sedately solemn and studi ously observant and imitative of all the deviltry going on round him. The reign of Pussyfoot was then undreamed of. Night or day, there was always an abundance of cakes and ale—if ale chanced to be your faney: if not, whatever wa Never was light more sparkling or moonlight on, the very personificatior The power to penalize is a great respon- ility and it should be exercised with a high regard for human justice. There is other phase of our work here that call for the exercise of more sound common ense than thi It is up to us never to lose sight of the human viewpoint in cor idering penalties and prosecutior Also, we are freque ntly ealled upon to put con- ideration of public policy into the seal when weighing the elements of an impor tant case to the end of leciding to penal ‘ to prosecute or not to or not to penalize prosecute ‘The fact that the administration of the income-tax law has great power to disturb business involves an equally great responsi bility. We are not here to harass, disturb or terrorize the busine of this country but to collect from the people the money necessary to the operatior of the Govern so that life, citizer hip and business may be more sucgessful here than in any other country on earth, If we did our work without regard to this larger result it sometimes prove decidedly destruc ment i" ighi tive.” The case n a big industry ‘ xarnple of the nece of a certain large corperation affords a conspicuous ity of giving consicde r- ations of public policy precedence over more narrow and tec! An inti mation that things were in a bad way in this concern reached the income-tax unit from another department of the Gover ment. The unit at once sent three auditors to cheek the affairs of thi ‘hey were under instruction to let their examination appear as casual and per functory as po ble One of these audi tors had a very keen scent for fraudulent ntent and his only mission there was to exercise this gift to the extent of his ability. In the cor ur se of the two months required to make this field audit the fraud specialist became increasingly convinced that a very crafty and complete job had been done Dy ne of the officers in the confidence of a high official whe had shortly before re- tired from active work in the administra- ‘v he company’s affairs. One official nical ones. corporatior | a ° THE SATURDAY sweeter; never were roses more “bright by the calm Bendemeer” than they were that summer by the placid bay. Once during that happy sojourn at the Nest one of my greatest heroes, Grover Cleveland, came over from his near-by home, Gray Gables, to spend the day with us. In the afternoon Cleveland, Jefferson = I went - hing, and I remember a slight but, I think, highly significant incident of that outing. We were fist ing for bass—and not catching any. After more than an hour’s wait Jefferson said: “‘Let’s move, Cleveland; the fish won't bite here.”’ “No, Joe,” answered Cleveland; ’em, let's stay here and make ’em bite! And we stayed until they did bite. That evening after Cleveland had gone home Jefferson told us, among many other anecdotes of him, one that was specially characteristic and amusing. He was at Crow's Nest during the fight for the presi- dential nomination in 1892 and a telegram brought over to him from his home, which he read and then handed to Jeffer- son. It said, ‘‘The time has now come for terest of your party, to with- draw from this contest,”’ and it was signed by Arthur Pue Gorman, the Maryland sena- tor, who wished to obtain the presidential nomination for himself. ‘What answer shall you make?” on asked. Without a word Cleveland took the tele- graph blank, turned it over and wrote his reply on its back, and before giving it to the waiting messenger handed it again to Jefferson. This was his message to Gorman: “damn you, in the ir Jeffer- *Somebo ly has been takir g an unpar- donable liberty with your name “*G. CLEVELAND.” I recall another incident of our fishing expedition that would have been eagerly seized upon at the time as a news story, which we kept carefully to ourselves, and which seems worth recording now. We went toward sundown from the bass grounds to a little lake hidden in woods owned by Jefferson and stocked by him with trout. There we were joined by John EVENING POST G. Carlisle, formerly Cleveland's Secretary of the Treasury; tall, lank, pale-faced, saturnine, black clothed, wearing a plug hat and energetically chewing tobacco— the very picture of an old-time Southern country lawyer. He had come down on the Fall River steamer with us from New York to visit the former President; and I have been told that his coming was to ascertain whether Cleveland would consider becom- ing a candidate for a third term as Presi- dent in 1900, and that he received an emphatically negative reply, but I do not actually know whether this is so. Cleveland and Jefferson put out upon the lake in a small boat, Mr. Carlisle and I remaining upon the b: ank. Cleveland, as is well known, was an immense bulk of man—a sort of colossal Cap’n Cuttle he appeared to me. He and Jefferson stood in the boat almost back to back, like Acres and Sir Lucius, and both casting at the same moment, they came violently into collision, stern on, with the result that Jefferson plunged overboard on one side and Cleveland, making a vain effort to seize and save him, lost his own balance and toppled over on the other. I have heard some strikingly original, graphic and vigorous language, first and last, but I have never heard anything of the kind to equal the impromptu dialogue between those two really affectionate cronies, clinging to opposite sides of that half-submerged old flathoat. Carlisle observed the aquatic disaster with exemplary calm and listened to the in- terlocution with attentive and manifest ad- miration. Then, ejecting a copious stream of tobacco juice for the benefit of the trout and turning a twinkling eye upon me, he blandly emitted the singular remark, ‘Most eloquent, but wholly idle!’ Jefferson was the truest sportsman I have ever known among fishers. He would not fish either for black bass or trout with a barbed hook, ‘Anybody can catch fish with a barb,’ he used to tell me, “‘but only a sportsman can fight and take a game fish with a needle point.” Jefferson’s sense of the ridiculous was irresistible, and often it led to his being COMBING INCOME SCHEDULES Continued from Page 11) in the accounting branch of the work showed a marked reluctance to give infor- mation and an equal eagerness to give auditors a surfeit of entertainment and ocial attentions. But finally the auditors returned to Washington and reported that there were huge discrepancies and that the general condition bore earmarks of manip- ulation, hey had scarcely finished reviewing the case with their superiors when the chief financial and accounting official of the com- pany made his appearance, with two law- yers in tow, and wanted to explain the theory of computation on which the pre- vious returns had been prepared—this be- cause he had become convinced, through conversation with the field auditors, that perhaps the the ry was not entirely sound and that it might be found advisable to file an amended return correcting the error! Naturally move was considered by the tax authorities as an attempt to rush to cover. At once the official head of the corporation was sent for, together with his principal associates. After this man had sat in the consulting room for the first session he remarked: ‘In the three hours that we have spent together in this room I have learned more of the affairs of this corporation than in the entire time in which I have been connected with it as its administrative head.” Immediately on return from luncheon he opened the session by declaring to the head of the unit that he was convinced from the revelations already presented by the unit that the company could not show clean hands; that evidently there had been manipulation, but that it had occurred before his administration and wholly with- out his knowledge. He had not had the lightest suspicion of the true state of af- fairs. Therefore he took the responsibility of resting the fate of the company wholly in the hands of the income-tax unit with a plea for such leniency as the circum- stances might admit As a tax liability of many million dollars had been established, the allusion to placing the fate of the company in the hands of the income-tax unit was no mere figure of speech. If the accrued penalties were assessed this great company would per- haps go under with a crash. The men on the government side of the table did not need the opinion of the corporation’s officers that this would be the case. The mere fact of attempting to go into the market for many millions in cash would start a selling raid to whic h no emergency brake could be applied! This immediately injected into the situa- tion the element of public policy. The gen- eral financial situation at that time was nervous. Speculators and investors were on their toes with expectancy. There was a general feeling that something was about to happen. As one financial expert put it: ‘Wall Street is in the temperamental con- _ of a spirited colt shying from one side of the road to the other and looking for the scrap of paper at which to become scared into a panic The little group of government men ad- mitted that penalizing this company—with the results that were sure to follow— would start a stampede in financial circles that would pass that penalty on to industry in general anc d _ 1 probab ly inflict a pun- ishment on the business of the country far greater than that which would be visited upon the culprit corporation, and cause losses a thousandfold greater than the sum of the penalties gained— assuming for sake of argument that the Government could collect them. Considering the matter from this viewpoint of public policy—and as public servants char rged with great powers and responsibilitie s they felt bound so to consider it—there seemed but one course to follow, that of sacrificing the penalties. Then, too, there were distinctly mitigat- ing circumstances so far as the highest responsible head of the corporation was concerned, It was well established that he had been innocent of criminal intent and that all manipulation had been done by members of a supplanted administration. True, some of the members of the old régime who appeared to be tarred with the August 7,1920 imposed upon. One morning during that same visit to Crow’s Nest he wished to take me fishing on the bay, and he sent an amiable old salt of the neighborhood off to the village to get bait. **Now no grog,” was Jefferson’s parting injunction—‘‘no grog till after you get back—and hurry, because we're waiting.” The ancient mariner—a person of the name of Henry— promised abstinence, and departed. We continued to wait—half an hour. An hour—two—two and a half—by the end of which time Jefferson had become profanely furious with indignation—and, by the way, his profanity was most pictur- esque; he hardly ever repeated himself Then just as he decided we must give up our expedition the delinquent Henry ap- peared far off, tacking laboriously from side to side of the wide roadway which led up to the house. Arrived there, he wa confronted by Jefferson, almost inarticu- late with wrath. “This—this—this is disgraceful —out- rageous—shameful!”’ he ejaculated. ‘I expressly told you no grog, and here you are—here you are—reeking—why, Henry, you’re—you’re drunk!”’ The mariner stayed his swaying form with difficulty and fixed on his berater a filmy eye. “Mr. Jefferson,” he said with solem- nity—‘‘ Mr. Jefferson, I’m awful drunk,” and sat down suddenly in a flower bed. The comic absurdity of the situation was too much for the irate actor—and Ancient Henry slept it off in the barn. Jefferson, though a staunch, faithful and generous friend, did not permit friendship to enter into anything but friendly matter Cleveland's respect and affection for him were great, one reason whereof being, as the old actor told me, that though often im- portuned to use his influence with him while President to further appointments to lucrative office, he never had asked him for anything for anybody. And I recall that, notwithstanding his friendliness toward me, he treated me in professional matters exac ‘tly as he would have treated a stranger Ex litor’ s Note—This is the second of a series of articles by Jefferson Winter he third will appear in an early issue stick of connivance were still nominally in their old positions, but they were scram- bling to get out. The final decision of the income-tax ad- ministration was substantially this: To exact the penalties would be a wanton dis- regard of public policy and a reckless assault upon the stability of the busine interests of the entire country. Also exaction of the pound-of-flesh policy would bring extreme punishment upon a large number of innocent and trusting stock- holders and a group of officials, equally innocent, who had come into the admin- istration of the corporation’s affairs long after the crooked work had been done. Therefore the Government proposed these terms of settlement: The head of the com- pany and his associates to give every assistance possible in the criminal prosecu- tion of those responsible for the fraudulent work; the income-tax unit to waive pen- alties and accept a settlement in the amount of the delinquent taxes with six per cent interest for the period for which they had been withheld. This reduced the matter to a simple question of the tax liability figured on a normal basis. But this was far from simple in the usual acceptance of the term, the slightest divergence in the basis of com- putation bringing a difference of staggering proportions in the final result, due to the huge volume of the company’s capitaliza- tion and business. For example, take the question of depreciation in one of the war years when production was at top speed and equipment was being driven without regard to its ability to stand the strain. The difference in depreciation for that year as figured by the corporation’ S representa- tives and by the tax unit’s best technical experts was only a trifling matter of a million and a half dollars! And that dif- ference, both sides admitted, was a matter of judgment as to what was a fair and reasonable deduction for the wear and tear on machinery at a time when every unit of equipment was being driven mercilessly for greater production to the end of helping (Continued on Page 46) ene | ——EEE———— re SR ree er

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-_ — — ey <2 Nn AS: ee ee ir - a re

HE Age of Romance still lives. As long as the heart of man beats in his breast it cannot die. For romance is nothing else than life in its highest mood of imagination and idealism, of courage and accomplishment, of un- derstanding and achievement. This is as true of life today as it was a thousand years ago; as true of America in this era of industry as it was of Eu- rope in the era of chivalry. Life still holds aloft the torch of romance to fire the spirit of man, to kindle his ambition, to ignite the impulse of his energies. Yet there is a difference between romance today and a thousand years ago. It beckons men less often down the path of sheer adventure; it leads them more often up the heights of ete ‘ : Y y mp hat ye N. W. AYER @ SON (Q@Gy ADVERTISING HEADOUARTERS res Ly, ‘ New York Boston PHILADELPHIA CLEVELAND CHicaAGo weg

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST

RK OM AN C E constructive service to the world. — It calls men to science, to invention, to industry, and to intellectual and moral leadership. The history of industry is pro- foundly romantic; yet time was when its romance lay hidden from the world, a neglected asset, an undeveloped re- source. ‘Then came advertising, bring- ing with it fresh vision, a new perspec- tive, penetrating insight; enlisting the eloquence of the artist and the writer; and carrying to the whole world the great romances of industry and of business. Advertising has proved again, if it needed proof, that the surest key to human sympathy and human under- standing is the key that throws open the door of romance.

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46 (Continued from Page 44) to win the war. Expressed in percentage the divergence was small, ‘What do you say to splitting the dif- ference?” was the proposal of one of the negotiator ‘That's fair,”” came the quick response from the other side Every problem in the settlement was met with this attitude by the men on both sides of the big table. Within twenty-four hours after the figures of the total settlement had been established the check for the amount was in the hands of the Government. As the methods of concealment and manipulation in this case were as typical as was the manner of final adjustment it is well to satisfy this common curiosity on the part of those having the responsibility of formulating bases for figuring corporation- tax return The most effective manipulation had been done in the figures on inventories, depreciation, capitalization and amortiza- tion. Upto 1918 the figuring of inventories for income-tax purposes had not been re- duced to a scientific basis. Realizing this the unit sent seventy-five men into the field to make an intensive study of the theory and practice of inventory taking in representative lines of business. The find- ings of this research were then carefully analyzed to the end of reducing the inven- tory problem to more definite lines and also of having at hand a fund of information calculated to give unit auditors a better understanding of all kinds of inventories. This work was done on the theory that the income-tax law should be administered so is to interfere as little as possible with the established practices and methods of busi- ness As the head of the unit put it: “We con- sidered that it was not the function of the Government to tell its citizens how to run their business, but rather to learn how busi- nesses are run and then handle our task of assessing and collecting income and profit taxes in a manner to disturb the estabiished order of business just as little a po ible i One of the results of this searching research into the tories was a set of rulings intended to coordinate the application of the tax law and the common practice of business men with respect to inventories, and at the ime time to establish certain lines which poe not be crossed in handling inventory computations without running counter to the law. In short the unit furnished to cor- porations and large firms a standard of practice in the making of inventories which amounted to a sailing chart on which the reefs and shoals were set down in red ink so clearly that any comptroller, auditor or other financial official having the respon- sibility of formulating a company’s income- tax return was without excuse if he dis- regarded them elaborate and field of inven- Standardizing Accounting Practice This work of establishing standard prin- ciples of practice in the various computa tions entering into the intricate task of figuring the income-tax liability of a large and complicated business had been done and published to the business world a year or more before any suspicion was directed toward the corporation referred to that was called on the carpet. In other words the men who had fabricated its tax returns had failed to act on the warning that had been given and had not taken advantage of their opportunity to file an amended return while the filing was good—which is to say before they had reason to suspect that the sleuths of the income-tax unit were hard on their trail. Naturally under these circum- stances a threat that they might file an amended return did not greatly impress the representatives of the Government. Right here is a good place to drive home the point that application for leave to file an amended return before a criminal-intent investigation is under way or even contem- plated is the kind of confession that counts with Uncle Sam. It carries an atmosphere of conviction that cannot be attached to a confession—camouflaged as an amended return—which springs from the fright roused by the belief that fraud hounds are already baying at close quarters. The amended return is the city of refuge for the income-tax payer who is pursued by a troubled conscience, and the sooner he avails himself of this sanctuary the more complete will be its protection. If filed before any suspicion has been centered THE SATURDAY upon the taxpayer it is virtually assured of being received as an indication of honest intent. The men of the unit who pass upon the problem of criminal intent may have their suspicions that an amended return smells of deceit and repentance, but they put it into the pigeonhole labeled ‘‘No Questions Asked’’—that is, if it comes in before any fire to smoke out the culprit has been started. This is on the theory that a man who is penitent enough for past errors to enter a voluntary appearance and make restitution on his own motion is entitled to the con- sideration accorded true penitents in all high moral courts. And one point of this consideration appears to be the polite and soothing practice of accepting the amended return as a confession of error instead of a confession of criminal intent. On this delicate question of criminal in- tent an expression of official policy from the two men who have most to do with its application to individual cases may have a more than passing interest to many a tax- yayer who has spent an occasional midnight 1our wondering if the auditors down in Washington would suspect that he stuffed the deductions ballot box or held out a little under the head of gross income. Here is what these two men tell me as to the official attitude on fraudulent intent: Penitent Sinners Forgiven “The law provides severe penalties, both civil and criminal, for intentional evasions of income-tax liability. The administration of these provisions of the revenue acts is one of the most important branches of the work of the income-tax unit. A special section in the auditing machinery is pro- vided for the audit of these cases in order to develop the evidence that must be used to establish the fact of fraud in court. “Taxpayers have, in a large number of instances, themselves confessed a fraud- ulent intent with which they have en- deavored to evade their tax liability. In these, and all other cases where the intent is established, the bureau has had no other course to pursue than to prosecute the evaders criminally as well as to assess the civil penalties. It has been the policy of the bureau not to exercise the peculiar power which the commissioner has to com- promise criminal liability for money, ex- cept in a few instances in which taxpayers have come forward voluntarily before any investigation by the bureau, and fully and freely confessed their fault, supplementing this evidence of good faith with assistance in determining their tax liability. In such cases the full tax has been assessed and the civil penalties asserted but the repentant taxpayer has been relieved of criminal liability.” Reading between the lines of this official statement in the light of comments and incidents coming to me from the same sources but in a less formal way, I feel that I am taking no chance in saying that the best possible advice which can be offered to any income-tax payer who admits to himself, in moments of uneasy recollection, that he did do a little jockeying with his return and that he wishes he hadn't is to head in for the sanctuary of the volun- tarily amended return while the gate of that city of refuge is still open. To be sure, the legend ‘‘No Questions Asked” is not officially displayed above its portals, but if the troubled taxpayer has eyes to see he will be able to trace its cheering assurance. Certainly the man with a manipulated return 7. his conscience is taking fewer chances, by far, in heading for the refuge of the amended return than he is . lying low and indulging the hope that, because months and perhaps years have passed wi; hout any indication of suspicion on the part of the tax authorities, he is going to get by without any disagreeable conse- quences. The unit has five years in which to get action on a return. The safety-first route lies in the direction of the amended return. The penalty for filing a false and fraud- ulent return is one hundred per cent of the total tax liability for the year 1917. By the revenue act of 1918 this penalty was re- duced to fifty per cent of the amount of the deficiency, which applies also to subse- quent years. But to let the official interpreters of the policy of the income-tax unit resume the stand. They say: “As it has often been stated, the bureau does not desire to impose these penalties for the purpose of revenue so EVENING POST much as for the moral effect of the evidence that the income-tax unit is keeping a sharp eye on tax evaders and that tax evasion is in the long run unprofitable. It is some- times found that tax evasions are com- mitted by some one officer of a corporation or firm and that other persons connected with the same business have not been aware of the fraud. In such cases it is the policy of the bureau not to impose the burden of the penalties and criminal prose- cutions on those who are innocent.” A pertinent illustration of this phase of the law’s administration carries with it the incidental consideration that dying is about as unsafe as living to the man who has a crooked tax return on his conscience and who is fairly sensitive as to the reputa- tion he leaves behind him as a heritage to his children. Recently a business man died and the settlement of his estate revealed the fact that he had enjoyed an income of a size that surprised his neighbors, friends and heirs. It was fat beyond their fondest ex- pectations. About this time the latest tax return of the deceased came up for an intensive combing. The probate proceedings fully substantiated the suspicions of the auditors and field agents that the deceased had doctored the tax returns of his business with a firm and unsparing hand. The sur- viving partner was investigated, but was able to prove that he had merely acqui- esced in the preparation of the return. The deceased partner had been the dominant force in the business. Here was a nice problem for the tax authorities. They penalized the partner- ship but not the estate, ‘holding that it would not be humane or morally correct to make the innocent widow and children suffer for the sin of the deadjfather. The men of the unit who decide the prob- lems of fraudulent intent frequently have opportunity to prove how human they are—and to do so without doing violence to their official responsibilities. Not long ago a man of unmistakable mili- tary bearing came into the office of the head of the income-tax unit and bluntly declared: “I’ve come to find out what you're going to do to me. I made no tax return for 1917 and I’ve made none since.” “Have you had an income in those years above the exemption named in the law?” “T have,” was the unhesitating answer. “Then why didn’t you file?” asked the astonished official. “Well, when we went into the war I made a quick jump for the Army. Got in and let my business go to the scrap heap. I was broke, completely. For two years I was in France, where there wasn’t much attention being paid to tax schedules. When I returned I was still broke. Went into business again and now I’m on my feet once more—at least I’ve got a start. Here are my papers.” How the Colonel Squared Himself The official examined them with a thrill of interest that the usual documents of those who came before him in the réle of delinquents failed to inspire. His caller was a colonel and his record at the Front was one to be envied. The confessed tax dodger made no pretense that he did not know that he should have filed his returns. “Colonel,” said the official, ‘‘you’re en- titled to consideration at the hands of your country—all the consideration that it’s possible for it to give. You should have filed, and then let things take their course. The worst that could have happened would have been the issuing of a distraint warrant against you. In other words, you would have absolved yourself of criminal liability and put it up to the Government to collect its tax bill against you when it could which is to say when you could pay it. “Now the best that can be done is for you to make out your three schedules for the three years, with three checks for the amounts due each year. Then make a fourth check for the interest at six per cent on the Government's money that you have withheld. Attach to that check a sworn statement that it is offered voluntarily in settlement of all liabilities, civil and criminal, that you may have incurred. That will settle the whole thing. And, unofficially, I confess that I hate to take the money from a man with your record at the fighting front.” This matter of the official attitude of the administrators of the income-tax law to- ward cases which rouse suspicion is of such August 7,1920 general interest that another expression from the authority already quoted may well be given place here. It is as follows: “The policy of the income-tax unit in developing the prosecuting of fraud cases is to accord to suspected persons every pos- sible safeguard against injustice. No alle- gation of fraud is permitted to be made or suggested until the fact of actual intent has been clearly established. In the course of the inquiry to determine this fact every doubt is resolved in favor of the taxpayer. Once, however, the fact of fraud is estab- lished, the policy of the unit is rigorous and uncompromising. The unit does not pur- sue these cases primarily for the revenue that is derived from penalties but in order that example may be made of those persons who have undertaken intentionally to de- fraud the Government by escaping their just tax.” To land in the fraud pigeonhole a case must have passed through a grilling of audits and committee discussions of the most intensive character. The tag of “fraud case’”’ is not lightly tied to any re- turn—but when once attached it is harder - get rid of than a cocklebur in a sheep’s ac The expense of running down a fraud case is not considered. An under-cover agent is as readily sent to Alaska as to the busi- ness district of Washington, District of Columbia, a few doors from the home of the income-tax unit. The only considera- tion is to run it down and get all the facts. All cases that receive the “fraud” brand are handled by a small group of hand- picked agents who are as skilled in audit work as they are in secret-service opera- tions. For reasons of secrecy, only one of these agents is assigned to a case unless it is a very large one or there is some angle of development that requires coéperation be- tween two or more operatives. Always as few under-cover men as possible are em- ployed on a case. Matters of Capitalization One large corporation learned to its sor- row that though the investor may stand for a certain amount of water in his stock Uncle Sam has no such attitude of tolera- tion; he is dead set against irrigation in the financing of corporations so far as this form of capitalization enters into the determina- tion of the profit and income tax of the company. For example, a certain large corporation not long ago got into serious difficulties by figuring as capital some millions of common stock which had been distributed as a bonus because of the fact that it had absorbed a number of smaller concerns. Though this phase of the return was re- garded with some suspicion it was not ac- cepted as conclusive evidence of criminal intent, for the reason that there is a wide margin for misunderstanding in so com- plex a matter as the figuring of a large corporation-tax return. Again, in spite of the fact that Uncle Sam takes his capitalization straight over the income-tax counter and will not accept even the smallest chaser on the side in the form of flotation water, it was not denied that there may have been in this instance a very considerable element of real value in the way of patents, trade-marks, and other assets of this sort represented by the so- called watered stock, and that the cor- poration may have made its figures with this consideration in mind. Touching on this delicate and difficult matter of capitalization, I said to Mr. George V. Newton: “I happen to know of a corporation that is capitaiized for only about one-fifth the amount that it should carry in its capital account in order to stand on an even basis with its competitors in figuring its income-tax returns. Doesn’t the application of the rule that the only kind of capital which can be taken into account in this connection is that actually paid in cash money work a very grave hard- ship to companies like this one, where the management was not farsighted enough to increase the capitalization to a normal volume at the time when the income-tax law went into effect?” “There is a provision,”’ responded Mr. Newton, “in our practice to equalize this kind of unequality to the end of putting all corporations on the same basis so far as possible. The assessment of taxes for cor- porations is a very difficult and complex matter because there are so many elements (Continued on Page 49) x

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ‘The Motors the Shing’ a pe ee WORD about motors. — —If your springs are weak you can drive slowly and hope for the best; if the gasoline is poor you can pay the bill and say nothing; but if your engine is second-rate you had better buy a new car. But a good motor practically makes a good car—and the best motor is very much worth getting. One word more --- HERSCHELL-SPILLMAN. Builders of high grade motors since nineteen hundred Six 314%" x §* Four 3%" x 5° MOTO “The Pick of the Field” ‘Che HERSCHELL= SPILLMAN MOTOR CO. North Tonawanda, NY.

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18 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST August 7,1920 ARMCO TRACE MARK INGOT IRON For 1600 Years This Iron | Pillar Has Defied Rust Delhi Pillar, Delhi, India The hot sun of India has beaten down upon it and it has been washed by torrential rains. Time has wiped out and re-made almost everything else around it, but the pillar stands and shows few signs of rust or corrosion. It is an accident, a freak of na- ture—or else the old Hindoos had knowledge, used only in this case, which from then to modern times was utterly lost to the world. Contrast this imperishable pillar with the thousands of tons of metal eaten by rust every year in this country alone. In Armco Ingot Iron we have produced an iron that for commer- cial purposesis practically pure ;that resists rust and is uniform in texture. Because of the absence of harm- ful impurities, Ingot Iron will last longer than other irons. The quali- ties that give it endurance also make it an excellent material for welding purposes—gas welding and electric welding. It is also an ideal base for enameled table tops, stove doors, refrigerator linings, or any article that must receive a hard, extremely glossy enamel coating. Our engineering and research de- partments are available at any time to any manufacturer who uses this class of metal for his products. They will gladly show him why he should use Armco Ingot Iron. THE AMERICAN ROLLING MILL COMPANY Dept. 271, Middletown, Ohio

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(Continued from Page 46) to consider. The matter of difference in capitalization is, of course, one of the most important factors in the corporation situa- tion so far as tax returns are concerned. “Because of the technical difficulties of ten. out equal justice to all corporate taxpayers it is necessary to give them ample a. for securing relief. For example, when it appears that, by reason of undercapitalization—or for various other reasons— the tax assessed against a corpora- tion, under a strictly technical application of the rules and regul: itions, is much higher than those of its competitors and would therefore work a grave injustice, a very painstaking procedure is begun, to the end of correcting this inequality. A list of about thirty competitors, with the rate paid by each, is compiled, and the average rate determined. This aver: ige rate is substi- tuted for the one that would hold under a strictly technical application of the law and the rules and regulations. “At the moment, I recall one greatly undercapitalized corporation, which would have been required to pay a seventy per cent rate if we had insisted upon a strict technical determination of the assessment. But under the relief provision which I have indicated the assessment was made at a forty per cent rate, which put this corpora- tion on the same basis as a taxpayer with its compe titors. This is only a fair example of the atti- tude of the income-tax unit toward every kind of problem that presents the likeli- hood of working an injustice to the tax- payer through adherence to strict technical lines in arriving at the rate and the amount of the assessment. As we see it, the function of the unit is not merely to col- lect profit and income taxes but to give every taxpayer the highest degree of justice possible under the income-tax law as it now exists. It would be very helpful to the great public of taxpayers as well as to those who have the responsibility of administer- ing the income-tax law if you could elimi- nate from the minds of those taxpayers the idea that we are a pack of insatiable tax hounds actuated by the one idea of sucking the last drop of blood from every case that comes before us. If we had no higher ideal of our duty and responsibility as officers of the Government of the United States than this we should deserve immediate dis- charge. We have no desire to deal with a terrorized public . We believe that the great mass of taxpayers intend to make honest returns, and we recognize the fact that making a correct return is not always an easy thing to do, but is often a very com- plex and difficult process.” A Square Deal for All “Our own view of our job dewn here is not that we are simply a tax-grabbing ma- chine set to run on arbitrary mechanical lines, but that it is up to us to use all the common sense, all the knowledge of human nature and the hi ighest sense of human jus- tice of which we are capable in the adjust- ment and collection of a tax upon the people of this country which is sufficiently heavy and burdensome without any of the inequalities that can be removed by the use of all the common sense and all the shock absorbers that we are permitted to use, to the end of giving each taxpayer a square deal in every sense of the word.” At this point B. G. Murphy, head of the internal-audit division, cut into the con- versation with the remark: “I consider it an important part of my job to impress upon every auditor in this division, which is virtually a training school for auditors for the entire unit, the fact that his mental attitude in the examination of a return should be just as neutral as that of a judge on the bench; that he is quite as much the representative of the taxpayer as he is of the Government, and that his respon- sibility is to see that the financial trans- action between the taxpayer and the Government is settled with equal justice to both parties. I confess that I have found auditors who seemed to have great difficulty in getting into this mental atti- tude, but they have had to do so or get out of audit work. “Tf it were possible for every taxpayer to appear here in person—perhaps with an able attorney at his elbow—to put up a strong hand-to-hand fight for his rights as he sees them, there would be less chance for injustice and perhaps a little less neces- sity for insisting on the auditor attitude that I have described, at least to the strenuous extent that we do insist upon it. But there are literally hundreds of thou- sands of taxpayers, both individual and corporate, who are remote from Washing- ton and also from a district office, and who could not possibly afford to hire an attorney or appear in person to thresh out over the table any difference with the representa- tives of the income-tax unit. Their only recourse is to state their side of the case by correspondence, and this quite generally means that it is not skillfully stated. This makes it highly important that every auditor shall consider the taxpayer's side of the case just as judicially as he does that of the Government. Without this auditor attitude wholesale injustice would be done. “We drill it into our auditors that every statement made in a letter must have just as careful, prompt and painstaking con- | sideration as if that taxpayer appeared in person or was represented by an expensive | attorney or public accountant. keep always in mind that the difference of a few dollars in the assessment of a smell taxpayer—say, for example, the keeper of a crossroads country store—may mean more to him than a difference of several hundred thousand dollars would mean to a large capitalist or corporation. If we had any formal slogan here I think it would be ‘Let no taxpayer overpay or underpay.’ Anyhow, that would express the spirit and purpose of our organization, It is just as much the duty of an auditor to detect ar overpayment and notify the taxpayer of it as it is to detect an underpayment and cal on him for an additional assessment. in case of an overpayment the auditor han- dling the case invariably gives the taxpayer careful instructions how to prepare and file his claim for a refund.” Tax Experts Here the head of the unit broke into the conversation with this statement: ‘It would be a distinct service to the taxpayers of this country if you could get it across to them that it is not necessary for them to h« represented by an attorney or a so-called tax expert. Any man who is able to state the facts of his case, either by letter or in person, will get all the consideration from the auditors and officials of the unit that he could possibly get if represented by the best attorneys in the country. Though some men unde rstand more than other about making out a tax return, especially if it happens to be of ‘the more intricate corporation kind, my personal opinion is that the term ‘tax expert’ is much abused and is traded upon to an unwarranted extent. “There is a big field with corporations of the larger class for the work of men who are really well posted in accounting and in a knowledge of the rulings and practices of the unit, but the ordinary —— tax- payer does not need any such assistance in order to get full justice in the assessment of his income taxes. Put it this way if you like: A case that is intricate enough to call for the services of a first-class public accountant might justify the pod. ment of a tax expert—this on the basis that he might be able to present to the considera tion of the unit valid arguments as to the application of the law not entertained by We try to the auditors who had handled the case up | to that point. Nearly all the big difference in contested corporation assessments are not matters of mere accounting but of the interpretation of the law and the ruling governing income-tax assessments. This is emphasized by the fact that in the few cases in which we have refunded to the taxpayer an amount in taxes of a million dollars the differer.ce has been, without ex ception, the result of the application or interpretation of the law and the ruling not a mere matter of accounting. Few large refunds have been made on any other basis.” And speaking of refunds, the income-tax unit certainly does a tidy little business in this side line. During the year 1919 it amounted to more than eight million dol lars. This sum does not include allowed claims for credit or abatement. More than nineteen thousand taxpayers have been handed a surprise package in the form of a refund of taxes during 1919. The claims division is quite a busy little shop. The average number of claims dropped into its hopper for adjustment is about two thou- sand a week. In the matter of claims the taxpaying public has experienced a great psycho- logical change since the close of the war.

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST

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‘Door Hardware that Harmonizes”’ D) > ~ Ha rdware fa ets F in the billions of pieces we have sold, comprising the CORBIN line of Door and Window Hardware, many composed of several parts, we had not made each part upon honor, the thread of contidence we have built : up in sixty-cight years all over the world would begin to break. Every part is made upon honor— always will be. And there’s CORBIN Hardware for Door and Window in any You'll always find a good hardware store

near by. Structure ever built. P& F CORBIN The American Hardware Corporation Successor New Britain Connecticut NEW YORK CHICAGO PHILADELPHIA > Sa

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Good for harness illustration Milady Dressing is also a footwear, THE SATURDAY your fingers, and comes in black, white, and or dressing for from walking boots to satin slippers. Triangle Dressings are pure. tect as well as keep shoes smart-looking. Look for the distinctive Triangle Box at most all good shoe stores. Firz CHEMICAL Co., Vakers of Triangle Shoe Dressings and Dri-Foot shows Cream, for It’s easy to apply without soiling a package of correct Triangle polish, This Triangle Product cleans quickly without harm to the skin FITZ RESTO HAND SOAP Takes off Grease. Grime, Ink Stains, and Paint. Leaves the Skin Smooth and Soft EVENING POST “The man outside the unit,’’ declared its lately retired head, ‘can have small realiza- tion of how sweeping this has been. And it strikes me as being rather depressing too. Here is a typical case: In the closing year of the war I happened to meet in a social way a man prominent in his city and of more than local reputation as a war worker. He was a leader in Liberty Bond and Red Cross drives. At our first meeting, know- ing my connection with the income-tax unit, he mentioned the amount of his tax and remarked: ‘I’m glad to pay it—proud | to. We have the greatest country on earth and every man in it ought to be glad to contribute to its support as a taxpayer.’ “Well, about a year later this man came into my office and I recognized him at once as the enthusiastic income-tax payer. But the world peace seemed to have taken a lot of pep out of his enthusiasm. His pa- triotic blood pressure had abated decidedly, for he greeted me with the remark: ‘I’ve been going over my old tax returns and it seems to me that I’ve been decidedly unfair to myself and that I have a basis for several claims that should result in very substan- tial refund. My errand here is to go over my wartime returns with one of your auditors and see if I’m not entitled to enter those claims.’ “That incident is typical of a general change of mental attitude on the part of the taxpaying public. There has been a de- cided let-down, I regret to say, in patriotic ardor as reflected in the payment of taxes. But the need of those taxes and the reason for feeling a glow of patriotic pride and satisfaction in paying them have not abated in the least. Mn course this reaction is humanly natural, but it is just as regret- table for all that. Any man who helps to check this ebbing tide of patriotic feeling is doing his country a distinct service.” Groundless Fears Recently a small business man in a little Midwestern village made this admission to me: “I’ve just received a letter from the revenue office saying that a man would be sent out soon to check up my income- tax return. Now I know that I made out that return just as honestly as I knew how to make it—but in spite of that fact I'll confess that I’m plumb scared. There isn’t the slightest reason in the world for being frightened so far as having made any attempt to cover up income or put in dishonest deductions is concerned. My conscience is as clear as a bell on that score. However, this tax-return business is new to me and I'll admit that I may have made a mistake—an honest one. But evidently something is the matter with my return, and what worries me is whether the man they’re going to send out to investigate me is fair and open-minded or whether he is going to tackle the job with the idea that he’s got something on me and is going to stick me with the penalty. You know that when Uncle Sam gets after a man it is likely to go mighty hard with him, and this man doesn’t know whether I’m honest or not. Maybe my record in this community wouldn’t count a cent’s worth with him. He may consider that he has got a case on me and that it’s up to him to push it to the limit and make a showing with his su- periors. I'll certainly be glad when the | ordeal is over.” This incident was related to the head of the income-tax unit, who replied: “I’m glad you told me that incident, for it opens | the way to relieve the minds of thousands of small taxpayers, like this man, who get the impression that a notice that a traveling | auditor will check their return is practically equivalent to an intimation that they are considered in the light of possible criminals by the income-tax administration. In the first place it is important for the taxpayers to understand that the field force is oper- ated directly under the jurisdiction of the income-tax unit of Washington. This is | mighty important to the taxpayer, for the reason that it gives him a line on the func- tions of these traveling agents, the limita- tions of their authority and just where their responsibility rests. “The business of revenue agents in the field is to investigate and check tax returns | and to report the facts found—not to levy taxes or to collect them until their amount | has been definitely fixed by the income-tax unit at Washington and sent back to*the field for collection. The fact that your ac- quaintance in the little Western town will be visited by a revenue agent who will go over with him all the figures entering into August 7,1920 the making of his tax return does not at all imply that this man’s return rests under official suspicion so far as any criminal intent is concerned. As a matter of fact it is entirely possible that quite the reverse of this is true and that a superficial examina- tion of the return has suggested the pos- sibility to us that your friend has a refund coming tohim. This is frequently the basis of a personal investigation by a field agent “Tn any event, any taxpayer who has not deliberately undertaken to cheat the Gov- ernment has no ground for the slightest feeling of fear or intimidation in connection with having his return checked by a field agent. One of the biggest problems that we have had has been that of getting our field agents into the right mental attitude with respect to the taxpayers with whom they come into personal contact. Hundreds of these agents have been put through a careful and intensive schooling in order to give them the right viewpoint on their work. We have used every effort to fix in their minds that every taxpayer visited by them is entitled to courteous and respectful treat- ment in every respect. This means that they are not to enter the office or the home of a taxpayer in an attitude at all calculated to intimidate.” The Policy of the Unit “The impression a field agent should make upon the mind is this: ‘There are certain features of your income-tax return that we do not fully understand or that indicate that you need to be instructed in how to make out a return properly. You do not need to feel that you are under sus- picion but rather under instruction.’ “There are many difficulties in the way of getting the field agent into a mental attitude that will carry this impression to the taxpayer on whom he calls. First, it is quite natural and human for an investi- gator to get the notion that men are quite generally out to do the Government, and also to feel that he must be extremely alert and aggressive in order not to permit the taxpayer to put something over on the Gov- ernment and thereby place a black mark on his own record as an official investigator representing the Government of the United States. Only a broad and well-balanced man is immune to this attitude. He must have a very even keel to keep from listing into it unconsciously. “It is especially difficult for a field agent to overcome this tendency when the tax- payer meets him in a defensive and perhaps belligerent attitude, as very often happens. Again, the field agent frequently comes in contact with subordinates in corporations and business houses who are overzealous in their efforts to protect the interests of their business superiors and principals. In this situation it is mighty hard for the field man to keep his mental balance and not get to feeling that the subordinate with whom he is dealing has something to cover up and that he needs to be shown that he cannot trifle with an officer of the United States Government. “If the field agent who finds himself in this situation has still in him a trace of the same attitude shown by the man with whom he is dealing—that of suspicion and an overaggressive determination not to be imposed upon—then it becomes virtually certain that the field agent is going to fail to be a true interpreter of the real attitude of the income-tax unit, which is that he is not out to get scalps or make a showing but to see to it that both the taxpayer and the Government get full justice in the adjust- ment of their income-tax transactions. “The importance of the right attitude on the part of field agents and inspectors may perhaps be realized more fully when I say that if the men responsible for the adminis- tration of the income-tax law did not them- selves realize that the average taxpayer has not kept books for the purpose of making out income-tax returns we should prefer charges against about one-half of the tax- payers of the country. In other words, if our auditors and investigators were to allow their suspicions free rein on the basis of superficial indications a majority of the taxpayers of the country would probably become the targets of such suspicions; but we know that the majority of the income- tax payers of this eountry are not trying to cheat the Government but that the dis- crepancies in their returns are the result of insufficient knowledge and experience. The average taxpayer is in the position of mak- ing a stab at a job about which he knows (Concluded on Page 53)

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST August 7,1920 | . a ' My ‘a ji ind Y Uy ————— AS, : om MTD Me Ni “hi jit uu vita ati ange ec An stag nN ' HY Ml ul ae gi QUE ‘1 TY Milih ‘li 1,4 ah ty] i il {i i! . 33322 eal) . \ y Ss , vy Hass) Will YOU Profit by the Experience of Armour and Company? There are no delays, for The Dictaphone is always ready during and after office hours. Armour and Company of Chicago, one of the largest meat packers in the world, is using These 150 Dictaphones in its general office. Dictaphones are especially valuable to the Transportation, Fruit Preserving, Reclama- I g tion, and Advertising Departments. Large volumes of correspondence can now be handled very quickly; for the work in these depart- ments is so arranged that a dictator can give his undivided attention to correspondence. With The Dictaphone an employee can dic- tate continuously. Whether your office is large or small, we are ready to install The Dictaphone. Then you can try it out in your office, on your work, and see for yourself why it is the modern method of speeding up letter production. Write, wire, or phone for a demonstration today. ™ DIZ TAPAVNE ‘*The Shortest Route to the Mail-Chute’’ cx F. “We are now using 34 Dictaphones in United States Fidelity and Guarantee Company, Baltimore, Md. “We have found that The Dic taphone gives us inc reased produc tion, thereby Hyatt Roller Bearing Co., Chicago, Ill. Brother, Office Manager, R. Howard Bland, Vice-President, says says the various departments of our ¢ hitago organization. The re sults in increased volume of correspondence handled, together reducing cost of handling correspondence. It saves time and with increased speed and a low cost per letter, are gratifying promotes efficiency —two very important factors in the success and speak well for the efficiency of The Dictaphone.” of any business.” Phone or write our Branch nearest you for convincing demonstration ‘‘The Man at the Desk.’’ in your office, on your work, and for Booklet, THE DICTAPHONE, Woolworth Building, New York City Chicago, Il Grand Rapids, Mich. Scene, 5 ¥. Cincinnati, Ohio Hartford, Conn oledo, io Cleveland, Ohio Indianapolis, Ind Washington, D. C. Dallas, Texas Kansas City, Mo Worcester, Mass. Denver, Colo Los Angeles, Cal. Montreal, Can. “4 } Des Moines, lowa Minneapolis, Minn. Rochester, N. Y. Toronto, Ont. Detroit, Mich. New Haven, Conn. Salt Lake City, Utah wi” There is but one Dictaphone, trade-marked “The Dictaphone,” made and merchandised by the Columbia Graphophone Company San Francisco, Cal. Springfield, Mass. St. Louis, Mo. St. Paul, Minn. Seattle, Wash. Spokane, Wash. New Orleans, La. Philadelphia, Pa. Pittsburgh, Pa Portland, Ore Providence, R. I. Akron, Ohio | Atlanta, Ga Baltimore, Md Ala Branches Birmingham, Boston, Mass | Sesdiiee maa Buffalo, N. Y.

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oe cee a era” es a fae (Concluded from Page 50) nothing, trusting to the Government to see that he has not shot too wide of the mark. “Comparatively few taxpayers look be- yond the return itself; you might say that only capitalists, expert accountants and corporation officers make any study what- ever of court and income-tax unit rulings and decisions. Furthermore we find it fre- quently necessary to impress upon our auditors and field agents the fact that ac- counting is not an exact science and that perhaps no six accountants will classify re- ceipts or expenditures in exactly the same way. Therefore the question of what is fair, reasonable and inte lligent in the cir- cumstances of the business at issue must indicate the basis of computation. This is only another way of saying that an appar- ently suspicious discrepancy on the face of a return is quite likely to be merely a mat- ter of a difference in judgment—and an honest difference, too—as to the scheme of calculation employed by the taxpayer on the one hand and the auditors on the other: “There is one thing every taxpayer should know that he has a right to expect from any field agent or inspector who checks his tax return, and that is a written synopsis of his findings and a definite statement of how much additional tax, if any, he believes is due the Government. And the taxpayer should also understand that these findings are not final but are in the nature of a recommendation and are subject - review by the income-tax unit at Washington, where the assessment of the additional tax is made. “Again, every taxpayer should under- stand that he im s not have to accept with- out contest an assessment of additional tax, but that a well-defined course of appeal is open to him if he wishes to follow it. We want all taxpayers to understand that the fullest provisions for relief and protection have been made to the end that no taxpayer shall suffer an injustice but that all may secure complete equity.” Rights of Appeal This system of appeal is almost too elab- orate to be described in minute detail, but the foundation of this protective plan lies in the fact that the assessment of an income tax does not lie in the hands of any one auditor but must represent the judgment of several auditors. Take the case of ar additional assessment, for example. Its amount is originally determined in the internal-audit division and is the expression of the judgment of at least two and perhaps more auditors. But before the letter goes out notifying the taxpayer of the amount of the additional assessment and the reasons why it has been made, the return and the letter gototheinternal-audit-reviewsection, which is not a part of the internal-audit division but of the technical division. Ir other words, the technical division controls all the audit and thereby gives the tax- payer a second chance, or a review by a body outside the divis sion originating the additional assessment. This review sectior sees whether the resident auditor and the unit auditor in the internal-audit division have done their work correctly, both as to the basis of computation and the computa- tions themselves. After the unit has determined that a certain amount of taxes is due the assess- ment is not rushed to a collector with in- structions to hustle out and get in the money, but the taxpayer is notified that the amount will be placed on the next list. In all except fraud cases taxpayers receiving notice of additional assessment have at least thirty days in which to protest against these taxes and present objections either by correspondence or by appearing in person or through an attorney. Suppose that the taxpayer comes to Washington to present his own case. He is conducted into the consultation room and given a reception calculated to impress him with the fact that he is not in the hands of enemies but is about to have an opportunity to reason with men who differ from him in their opinion concerning a mutual business matter. The auditors involved in fixing the addi- tional assessment are then brought in and the taxpayer sits with them at the table and talks the matter over with them. In many cases the appeal hearing stops at the consultation room, either because the tax- payer is able to convince the auditors that they are in error or because the auditors are able to persuade the taxpayer that their finding is sound and fair. But let us assume that neither the tax- payer nor the auditors are able to recede from the position they have taken and that the taxpayer insists upon the next step in the line of appeal. This takes him into the office of the head of the internal-audit division, who hears the arguments on both sides and perhaps overrules the auditors and decides in favor of the taxpayer. Assuming that the head of the internal- | audit division finds it necessary to sustain the opinion of the auditors and that the taxpayer is still unsatisfied, it is then ex- plained to him that he has two more steps in the process of appeal. The first is to the head of the income-tax unit. The usual practice at the present time, however, is to appeal directly to the com- mittee on appeals and review, which is a body entirely apart from the income-tax unit. This is essentially the supreme court for the adjustment of income-tax assess- ments. Its members are men of the highest qualifications and their entire detachment from the income-tax unit is intended to provide for entire freedom in overruling the findings of the unit if in their opinion they should be overruled. As a matter of fact this supreme income-tax court often finds in favor of the taxpayer. The opinion which the chief executives of the income-tax unit hold of this com- pe on appeals and review is illustrated by the experience of a manufacturer in the Middle West who received notice that an additional assessment of about fifty thou- | sand dollars would be required of him. He | hurried to Washington, presented his argu- ments to the auditors in the consultation room and failing to convince them of the validity of his position appealed to the head of the internal-audit division. After listen- ing to the discussion Mr. Murphy suggested an appeal direct to the cémmittee on appeals and review. The taxpayer assented and then asked: “Wouldn't it be a good plan for me to go | out and secure the services of the best tax counsel available?” “Do so if you wish, of course,” responded Mr. Murphy, “but personally I think you might as well save yourself that expense, for I believe that when your case is heard by the committee you will feel that you are represented in its membership by five of the most highly qualified income-tax ex- perts in America, who are just as keen to see that you get entire justice as if they had retainer fees from you in their pockets.”’ ‘“‘All right,” replied the taxpayer. “I’m willing to take a chance on your suggestion, because I am already convinced that all the men whom I have met down here want to be entirely fair, but that the issue hetween us is merely a matter of difference of opinion as to the application of the law.” Arrangements for an immediate hearing | were made and within half an hour the tax- | payer who held a fighting respect for his or we _— received a decision in his favor. . H. Callan, the former head of the unit, who lately retired, admits that his job would have been a hard one but for a capacity to see the human side of the day’s business and extract occasional smiles from the routine work. A Red Cross Deduction ‘“‘T used to consider the day a failure that didn’t give me at least one good laugh That, however, seldom happened. I recall one day that seemed destined to be the dullest ever, when a certain case was brought to me by the two auditors who were engaged on it. The taxpayer had asked for a refund on the ground that he had failed to take all the deductions to which he was entitled. His claims for deduction had been rather pointedly questioned in the course of corre- spondence. This had called out a letter from a man high in public life resenting the fact that the sworn statement of a citizen of such high character and standing as his friend should be subjected to such a grilling “One of the exemptions claimed was a certain sum contributed to the Red Cross. Our questions had forced the admission that a considerable part of this item con- sisted of a charge, at the rate of fifteen hundred dollars a year, for the time which his wife had put in at Red Cross work “If men in public life and especially United States senators and representatives would make one condition to writing letters to the unit on behalf of their constituents, they would frequently save themselves from getting into absurd positions. That condition is: ‘First show me your schedule and the correspondence in relation to it.’”’ THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Novo 15 H. P. Gasoline Engine Novo Engines, 12 to 15 H. P. Odtfits for Pumping, Hoisting, Air Compressing, Sawing Furnished to operate on gasoline, kerosene, natural or artificial gas. You Want Reliable Power Put a Novo Engine or Outfit on the job— and you've got it! OvO Clarence E. 415 Porter Street New York Office: 1617 Woolworth Building Chicago Office: 800 Old Calony Building London’Concrete Machinery Co., London, Ontario, Canadian Distributors NGINE CO. ment, VicePres. & Gen. Mgr Lansing, Mich

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54 THE SATURDAY eT “Save the surface and | ¢ you > ave all-Caint + Varninf, > oceans Ain 8 oe & en Ppt Rr. Vig Cn Pe, TOE o ona — ’ ; - Rye t « WERT Saving the l[ndoors HE doctrine of surface protection applies to indoor surfaces. Your woodwork becomes marred and scratched by the wear and tear of indoor life—the mov- ing of furniture, the children’s play, and so on. Protect and beautify these surfaces with Acme Quality Enamel, imparting a lustrous, hard and durable finish like porcelain—a real QUALITY finish. Besides, Acme Quality Interior Enamel of appropriate color makes a durable finish for any part of the house, whether it be living room, dining room, bathroom, kitchen or nursery. It furnishes a hard, smooth surface that is easily cleaned and easily kept clean. When you think of saving the surface, think of ACME QUALITY. There's not a surface to be saved but there’s an Acme Quality Paint, Varnish, Stain, Enamel or Finish for its protection For your intimate knowledge of just what should be used for each surface, get our two booklets, ‘‘Acme Quality Painting Guide”’ and “‘Home Decorating.'' Ask your dealer or write us ACME QUALITY PAINTS & FINISHES Acme White Lead and Color Works Dept. A Detroit, Michigan Boston Chicago Minneapoli St. Louis Fort Worth Salt Lake City Cincinnati Toledo Nashville Birmingham Portland Los Angeles Dallas \Topeka Lincoln Pittsburgh Have an ‘‘Acme Quality Shelf’’ For the many ‘‘touching-up”’ jobs about the is) ae] house, keep always on hand at least a can each | i wg of Acme Quality Varnotile, a varnish for floors, 1 LN nants || \! ,) woodwork and furniture; Acme Quality White Li sii “__. Enamel for iron bedsteads, furniture, wood- ] ] work, and similar surfaces, and a quart of | Acme Quality Floor Paint of the right color. ele EVENING POST August 7,1920 THE MOST IMPORTANT MAN IN EUROPE (Concluded from Page 32) of the villages to the cities; perhaps it is the unreasoned, groping protest of Russia that its soul is not to be found in the soot of some factory chimney but rather in the quiet reaches of some open, sunlit and well- tilled field. Anyhow what it comes to is that all over Russia the village and small-town soviets are ceasing, indeed have generally ceased, to be part of the legislative and executive machinery of the central gov- ernment. Their allegiance to the author- ity of Moscow has been widely withdrawn and the soviets in the hands of the peas- ants have become to a great degree nothing other than mutual protective associations small detached organizations of the country districts to beat off the encroachments of the cities. In that character they permit people to pass through their territories or not, as they please, regardless of passes issued by the central government. Orders of the central government are in many areas totally ignored, and there are sections, such as that round Smolensk, where during the spring the propaganda for Trotzky’s pro- jected labor army was definitely barred out. Also these local soviets are manifesting a tendency toward consolidation, so that in effect a considerable number of minor semi- tribal but quite independent little states | are springing into existence all over Russia. The meaning of this movement to the authority of the central government is obvious— it means that extensions of Com- munism to the land will be even more impossible; it means that the chances of making the Russian peasant a food pro- ducer for the cities are even more slender than they were before; it means that any government in Moscow other than a peas- ant government will have to demonstrate that it can speak for the Russian peo- ple and not merely for a few millions imprisoned in cities like Moscow and Petrograd. Manipulation of the Vote The movement has great possibilities of growth. Aside from having sprung from forces and conditions as basic as the land itself, there are accidental circumstances to aid it. For example, the collapse of local communications isolates the small com- munity and its local soviet, thus making recalcitrant groups harder to get at and giving first principles a singularly fine op- portunity for development free from alien influences and currents of thought. Again the government has found it possible to control fairly well urban soviet elections. It has used many devices. One has been the calling of overfrequent elections so that the value of the franchise, by no means universal in Russia, was reduced in people’s minds, and many who were entitled to vote came to neglect to do so. Another has been to build up in the in- dustrial areas a system of pyramiding soviets, which works out so that a man who casts a vote is not voting for anyone who will have a direct voice in the government | but for one who will only help elect some- one else to a slightly higher soviet, and this third one will in turn only make a choice for a fourth on some other board, a trifle more centralized, and so forth. Between many city voters and the central govern- ment there are said to be now as many as six removes, eath remove of course repre- | senting an added opportunity for manipu- lation. But it has never been possible to get this system of pyramiding soviets, or of overfrequent elections, into remote country districts, with the result that when the peasant sets out to create his own soviet he is measurably unhindered in getting what he wants, and what he has wanted has turned out in many instances in the last eight months to be something distinctly anti-Bolshevik. Third, local sovietism is stimulated or stre ngthened by the circumstance that when Trotzky was creating his Red Army he mobilized a great many thousands on a territorial system. Many of these men re- belled at the prospect of being moved hundreds, even thousands, of miles away from their homes and off into the inealcu- lable uncertainties of Russia. Also trans- portation was scarce, and it came about that these territorials usually did not get far from their native abiding places. Long ago wholesale desertions from the Red Army began, a fact admitted by the two leading soviet ne wspapers, Isvestija and Prawda, in connection with recruiting prop: uganda in early May of this year following the Polish advance to Kieff. These deserte rs, in larger volume as the harvest approaches, have returned and are returning to their villages, bringing new, actual fighting strength for the local soviets and at the same time diminishing hy just so much the aggressive power of the government. Russia’s Destiny There are other factors at work fostering and developing the local soviet movement, which has in it, however, certain marked weaknesses. One is a lack of leadership; one is an absence of centralization; another is the peasants’ deep-rooted disinclination toward aggressive action of any sort and, even more perhaps, that colossal thing, Russian inertia. But a harvest is coming, and even those of the governing hierarchy themselves must quail before the prospect of another foodless winter in Moscow and Petrograd. The struggle for whatever food may have been grown in Russia during this spring and summer will—if the unforeseeable does not intervene furious, titanic. May it not be, it is asked, that beneath the force and impact of tremendous primitive forces leadership will be born overnight, that a movement heretofore decentralized will suddenly assemble itself and as in- stinctively as it first found life begin to take focus and head and that proverbial Russian inertia will disappear in an inered- ible warfare'‘of millions for self-preservation? No one knows. At the time of this writ- ing, the very last days of May, every one of the Black Sea-Baltie observation balloons is watching the Russian peasant and little else. Confident predictions fill the air, but predictions are not of much use. However, should only a fraction of them come true great events will have come to pass. Russia will then have a government which could immediately command the unquestioning good will of the world and its eager help. It would have nothing to explain—none of the Kieff torture machines, which I have touched and handled myself; none of the bundles of forged five-pound English bank notes, brought down in a Germany-bound aéroplane at Kovno, in Lithuania, and now, save for a few souvenirs, one of which I have, in the archives of the British Govern- ment. It would begin clean and, beginning clean, would have a better chance of solving the gigantic Russian conundrum than if it had a debated and debatable past to explain. Also such a government would be un- handicapped in a task, upon the perform- ance of which the world’s ultimate return to complete normality waits, by an un- breakable commitment to the impossibility of Communism. Much could be said in favor of such a government, most of all perhaps that it would be a government of the land, and for the land and upon its land lies Russia’s destiny and also the salvation of millions swarming westward toward the Rhine.

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en Ni There is a wide variation in tire quality today chiefly because there is a varying opinion among tire makers as to the amount of mileage that should fairly be given for a tire’s purchase price. Tire mileage is almost entirely dependent on the use of pure rubber, strong fabric, and skilled work- manship, and the market for these things is open to all comers. But knowing that the tire buyer has no way of judging, before he purchases, the number of miles in a tire, many makers have yielded to the temptation to make the biggest profit possible by cutting down the cost of materials and workmanship to the minimum. Then there is a group of reputable manufacturers who are giving the buying public a good, honest value for their money. They are making a tire which ordinarily gives the expected mileage. Yet the troublesome necessity for frequent adjust- ments shows how close to the guarantee line the mileage of these tires is always maintained. But the Mohawk Rubber Company is one of a small group of tire makers who believe in the business principle of building a tire as good as it can possibly be made—using generous quantities of the finest and purest grades of rubber the world’s markets afford, the strongest of fabrics, and the most skilled hand-workmanship. These tires are, of course, guaranteed the same as other tires. But the average mileage yielded is so far in excess of this amount that the user is freed from the troublesome necessity of adjustments. Moreover, the user soon learns that this extra mileage —a ‘‘heaping measure of miles,’ as it might be termed—makes a tire of this character by far the most economical. MOHAWK RUBBE KANSAS CITY DALLAS SAN FRANCISCO I SB 23222 23222 =S =— — OS S S Ee — ee ES SS SSS COS SE a t—] EE S_— = Uo = =~ aw i \/ , £ t , Mf “ } R COMPANY, AKRON, OHIO = =r oa tail ame = ual = a HAND MADE = ee ae 8 eens = = = S SS CORD»FABRIC = THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Kl ‘ai | (iW

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST August 7,1920 It Sustains an Honorable Record of Forty-Nine Years The founder of The Beckwith Company in- spired his first band of men with the Round Oak standard in 1871 when he said to them, **Make good goods only.”’ By their side he toiled for years to hasten the day when people should regard Round Oak on a heating or cooking appliance with a trust such as they repose in the carat mark on gold. That day arrived, and more than two million families—each served faithfully by a warm air heating system, range or stove symbolized by the Round Oak Indian—now witness the extent to which this rigid standard has been of material profit and benefit to humanity. Today a great colony of artisans is earnestly at work, imbued with the spirit that they who are the present generation of Round Oak Folks shall make good goods only, as did their fore- fathers. It is the knowledge of this unvarying standard of excellence that leads a public to accept the name Round Oak as a guarantee of satisfac- tion. Measured by the years that any Round Oak will deliver a good and economical service, in- variably it costs the least to possess. The Beckwith Company, Dowagiac, Michigan “Round Oak Folks” Established 1871 MOUND OAK STOVES AND HEATING SYSTEMS Throughout the United States and Canada just one good store in each locality handles genuine Round Oak products, all of which embody traditional Round Oak quality and patented exclusive features; Round Oak copper-fused boiler-iron Chief Range; Round Oak Ironbilt Cast Range — patented gas-tight joints; Original Round Oak Heating Stoves; Round Oak Pipeless Furnace —clamped; Round Oak Moistair Heat- ing System. Arequest tous brings complete information concerning any of these products, whose satisfied purchasers now exceed two million

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raat Te ee en PO 2 ee eee NO’TH AF-ICAN LLOYDS, LTD. (Continued from Page 17) “Cullud man,” replied Mistuh Smelt, dropping a bill with dangerous nonchalance, Ah tells de googly-eyed worl’ dat mah middle name am Peary an’ Ah’s de bes’ li'l’ dice chiller in Bahbuhs. You’s baded!”’ Horace Hancock Breckenridge stepped back against the rail and breathed lovingly on the celluloidal cubes. Then he rattled them with an ominous flourish that began at his ear and came to an end at his shoe tops. “Dice,” he Horace! ride!” Mistuh Smelt slid out of his seat and dropped two bills. “‘Shoot, cullud man,” he retorted. ‘You doan’ need no p’teck- shun. What you needs is a bookkeepah.”’ ““Doan’ blame me, Mistuh Man; you brung dis on yo’self. Natchel fo’ Ho’ace, dice! Gallop, dice an’— midnight!” ‘Midnight they sez!” ‘Shoots a buck! ““You’s cov’ud.” “Swolluh dat dolluh, dice. Re-deem yo'self! Crap! Dat’s wha’ mah money goes! Shoot two dolluhs. Shimmy, dice, an’ shake me off er seben! Crap! Mistuh Man, ah tol’ you Ah need p’teckshun! Shoot fo’ dolluhs! One mo’ crap, dice, an’ Ah eats you! Hokus pokus dominokus, read me fo’ty-three. Baby! Crap ag’in!” Mistuh Smelt raked in eight dollars. “Keep right on shootin’, cullud man,” he chortled. Jes shoot off all de craps an’ pass de dice to me. I pines fo’ ’venge.” ‘'Venge, does you? Den "venge yo'self on ‘at dolluh bill. Dese bones ain’ got no sebens, ’peahs like t’ me. Dice, jes lemme see de sunshine 0’ yo’ smile. Li'l’ Joe! Ah lubs you so! Deuce ketch deuce, ace ketch de tray! Nine! Li'l’ Joe, come back once mo’! Big Dick! Gallop, dice, an’ turn de double deuce! Eight! Gallop, dice, an’ show me how you lubs me seben!”’ “*Gim’ dem dice!” “‘He’p yo’self, dey’s cost me nine bucks a’ready.” “Shoots a buck!” ** Ah’s ridin’!” ““Blooey! Shoots two! Blooey ’gin! Shoots fo’h! Blooey ’nuthuh time—eighter f'um Decatur! ’Tenshun, dice, an’ count off to de eight! Right she am! An’ eight Ah Nat’chel! Ah drags down an’ shoot de five spot! Git right in his pocket, dice, and drive dem dolluhs home! Blooey, Ah sez! Shoot de ten! Ah’s hot, niggah; roll out de coal an’ keep de ingine pumpin’. Blam! Shoots twenty!” “Git th’u de lynchin’, black boy, an’ pass ‘em dice to me!” “These is Verdun dice, mah frien’ —they shall not pass! Blooey, sez de gamboleer an’ leben, sez de dice! Shoot de fo’ty 4 **Hol’ on, Mistuh Man, Ah’s only got thute en dolluhs lef’! ‘Den shoot de thuteen bucks an’ end de agony, ‘cause Ah’s de thuteenth son o’ de thuteenth son, an’ thuteen am mah lucky numbah! Le’s ride, dice! An’ ride dey does! Ah thanks you fo’ yo’ kin’ atten- shun!” Mr. Horace Hancock Breckenridge rose from his knees and with mixed emotions watched his money disappear into Mistuh Smelt’s spacious poc ket. “You’s mean wid de dice, Smelt!” he said regretfully. “*Ah’s a bloodsuckin’ blue gum when de dice begins to roll, cullud man,’ replied Mistuh Smelt. *An’ Ah reckin you wuz right when you talked ’bout takin’ out a crap-sheotin’ pol- icy. Whut you needs is a cosspondence co’se in dice han'lin’.”’ ‘‘Whut Ah needs now,” retorted Mistuh Breckenridge, ‘“‘am a sto’y fo’ to tell to mah ’ooman. She's waitin’ at de front gate fo’ dat bonus you got.” ‘Tell uh you wuz hel’ up an’ robbed.” “Yeh; nen have ‘uh beat me up ag’in fo’ lyin’ to ’uh!” ‘Well, dat’s yo’ fun’rel, not mine, Mistuh Breck’nridge. Ef she put you in de hospittel Ah’ll sen’ you a bookay o’ fergit- me-nots,”’ replied Mistuh Smelt airily. ““Ah’ll try dat story out,” replied the loser, starting dolefully for the door, “an’ ef I gits erway with it Ah’s been missin’ a lot in de last twelve yeahs.” “‘Glad you drapped in, Mistuh Breck’n- ridge,”’ returned the host; ‘an’ Ah’s gladder Ah tried you - befo’ Ah wrote de pol’cy, ’cause you'd ’a’ sho’ cost me some jack ef exhorted, “be good to ’Leben! An’ good you is! Le’s shoots! Mistuh said the parson. you wuz shootin’ true tuh fo’hm ’saftuh- noon! ’Membah, Ah ’sures you fo’ any- thing. Come roun’ some day jes befo’ a fust-class cyclone er some ack er Gawd, ’n Ah’ll gib you a chancet to git yo’ money back!” **Ah’ll ’membah dat, Mistuh Smelt, Ah will. G'd aftuhnoon t’yuh.’ “Yas suh, do. G’d aftuhnoon.” Mistuh Smelt watched his victim depart and planted himself in front of the buzzing fan, where he reveled gratefully in the cool- ing currents. “‘La-la,” he chuckled softly. “ Eighty- two bucks mo’ fo’ de ol’ sock. Jes fo’h mo’ hun’erd, an’ Mistuh Smelt busts out in dat yaller seedan. Huh,’ he grunted, shifting so the breeze played on his sopping back, “‘ Ah’s on de rise! ’Cause Ah’s a rarin’ gamboleer, ’N’ a son of a gun fo’ gin.” mi HE directing head of North African Lloyds dropped his feet to the floor and leaped up. An expansive smile, profes- sionally broad and personally genuine, THE SATURDAY EVENING POST swept over his countenance, and he strode | with hand extended to greet the visitor who had darkened the open door. “Bruth’ Peebles!”’ he exclaimed. “Ise right glad to see you! railin’ an’ make yo’self comf’t’ble. you, suh; afteh you. Lemme take yo’ hat an’ breller an’ sack, Bruth’ Peebles; yo’ coat an’ ‘joy de licktric wind. Yas- suh,”’ he continued, dropping into his chair, “* Ah hopes dis weathuh doan’ disconvenien’ you none much. Been buyin’ bananers, Ah see.” “‘Yassuh, Bruthuh Smelt,” replied the shepherd of the Franklin Street M. E. flock, “T has; an’ they’s pow’ful ’spensive.” “Ev’thing’s 'spensive these days, Bruth’ Peebles. Silk shu’ts costin’ twen’y bucks apiece.” ““An’ po’k fo’ty-three cents a poun’! ““An’ bakin’ yams dime apiece!” ” Ooze right ’hin’ de | Afteh | undo | “An’ co'’n thutty cents a dozen on de ear!” “‘An’ ‘lasses thutty cents by de jug!” An’ aigs fo’ty -foh cents a dozen!” *“An’ licker ten dolluhs by de quaht!”’ “Pa’don, Bruthuh Smelt, you fergits Ise a ordained preacher!” “So Ah does! ‘Scuse! “Yas sah, Bruthuh Smelt, de ol’ high cost o’ libin’s gib me de crick in de neck | watchin’ it.” “Be runnin’ roun’ in bar'ls nex’, eatin’ pignuts fo’ to kep f’um sta hvin’, *peahs like tuh me, Bruth’ Peebles.’ “Dat’s a mouf-ful, Bruthuh Smelt, an’ dat’s why Ise heah.” “Fo’ which?” ““Fo’ to git some o’ dat p’teckshun you g’in us fo’ ouah picnic.” “Beautiful day you-all had.” “Beautiful; couldn’da did bettah ef de weathuhman wuz a deacon in de flock. Yassah,”’ continued Brother Peebles, fan- ning himself despite the efforts of the fan; ‘an’ dat’s whut I wants f'um you in dis case.” ““Splain de p’ticklers to me, Bruth’ Peebles.” ‘Wid pleasuh, Bruthuh Smelt. De an- nual meetin’ of de congregation takes place nex’ We'n’s’y night. At dat time Ise gwine tuh req’est me a raise in sal’ry o’ five hun’erd dolluhs. Onless I gits it Ise gwine back to porterin’ to keep de wolf away f'um de do’.” Mistuh Smelt opined: “‘ De flock needs de shep’ud, an’ dey'll prob'ly see yo’ raise All de membahs is makin’ good jack dese days an’ they’s all pretty hot spohts. A good jazzy speech’ d ‘fluence ‘em lots in de right d'rection.” ‘T intends to jazz ‘em right; less I wants to p’tec k myse lf.’ ‘De sign sez we ’sures ev'thin’, an’ de ign doan’ lie, Bruth’ Peeb les. Fo’ fifty bucks Ah ‘sures yo’ raise.” “Dat’s ten tuh one, Bruthuh doan’ I git no bettuh odds'n ‘at?”’ “No, suh. Ah’s bettin’ on de foibles o’ human natchuh, an’ humanity doan’ run to no fo’"hm. Co’se,” added Mistuh Smelt, “ef Ah writes dis policy Ah does de oratin’ fo’ de raise.” “Sat’sfact’ry tuh me, Bruthuh Smelt, “Fo’ fifty bucks, cash in *vance, I leaves you face de congregation We'n's’y night.” but nev’ the- Smelt; in Cash Prizes will be awarded to the Automobile Starting Batteries longest service and are still in twenty-three owners of Gould that have serviceable $1,000 given the condition. Saeco 2nd Prize . 600 3rd Prize. . . , 400 20 district prizes of $100 each Contest — ns Oct. 1 and closes midnight Oct In the ntofat full a { the prize will be paid to each of ‘ 1 for that prize Your Gould Battery a prize. No entry fee. Ask at any Sales Station, or to us for complete details of the may win Gould Service ot write ENDURANCE CONTEST EK know that Gould Automobile Storage Batteries have excep- tionally long life. We build long lite into them. But now we want to know from Gould users themselves just how thoroughly and tena- ciously these batteries are giving the service of which they are capable. To get these facts we are seeking the actual records of endurance of Gould Automobile Starting Batteries, not in just a few instances, but from every owner in every section of the country whom we can reach. A few minutes of time spent in getting the details of this contest may mean a prize for your Csould Battery. Write us or call at our nearest Sales Station now. Gould Storage Battery Company New York VN FRANCISCO 30 Kast 42nd Street, CHICAGO DETROIT Plant: Depew, N. Y. Makers of The Automobile Battery With Dreadnaiight Piates

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%, Pe il Look forthe Name and Year \ ee P\ THE SATURDAY EVENING POST “wie 5 suPERVIsION OVERHEAD 12% The Controlling Factor “*T hesitated about paying $5,000 more for Byers pipe,” said a St. Louis man who was putting some of his wealth into a skyscraper, “until it occurred to me that the entire investment for the plumb- ing and heating systems—over $100,000, exclusive of fixtures—was tied up to the last penny with the fate of the pipe.” Plain logic. pipe it strikes When corrosion aftacks the thin walls of the at the life arteries of the whole installation, So the protection of the total outlay must be considered in relation to the slight extra cost of YER GENUINE WROUGHT IRON FULL WEIGHT GUARANTEED The whole subject is graphically treated in Byers Bulletin No. 38, entitled ‘‘ The Installation Cost of Pipe.”’ It contains cost analyses of a variety of pipe systems, and a mass of other pertinent data for the Builder, Engineer, and Architect. Send for your copy today. A. M. BYERS COMPANY, Pittsburgh, Pa. New York Philadelphia Chicago Boston Dallas Established 1864 Distributors im all large jobbing centers wISCELLANEOUS Cleveland rolled 7 “ every Length “Fo’ fifty bucks, cash in ’vance, Bruthuh Peebles,’ retorted Mistuh Smelt grimly, “ah'd spit right squah in a wil’cat’s eye!” The managing director of North African Lloyds waxed exceedingly businesslike. With a sputtering, scratching pen he filled in a printed form and finally blotted it with meticulous care. ‘Jes sign yo’ name on firs’ sheet, Bruth’ Peebles,”’ he said, proffer- ing the pen, “‘an’ keep de seckin’ as yo’ receep. Ef you gits de raise de premium am mine; ef you doan’ Ah pays you fi’ hun’erd dolluhs in de currency o’ de realm *thin seben days.” Brother Peebles extracted a pair of steel- rimmed spectacles and settled them on his nose. He surveyed the contract: NortH AFRICAN LLoyps, Ltd. Barbours, Ky. LLOYD SMELT, Sole Owner. No contracts valid unless signed by the owner and manager. We have no agents or representatives. In consideration of a premium of $50, North African Lloyds, Ltd., hereby and to wit enters into a contract with Brother Theodore Peebles, 418 Preston Street, rear, to pay unto him or his heirs and assigns forever, the sum of five hundred dollars in the legal coin of the realm, in event that his salary ain’t raised by the congregation on or before August 30th. Whereas, should the raise be more than $500.00, the party of the 2nd part agrees to pay to the party of the Ist part, 50°, of the additional increase, to be payable within 90 days. To seal and to legalize this heretofore and hereinafter contract, the company by its president, gen. manager, and sole owner, does set his hand and seal. Witnesseth, LLOYD SMELT, Sole Owner. Witnesseth, ..... “Sign on de dotted line,’’ urged Mistuh Smelt, “‘an’ de transaction am complete.” “Dis am de law?” queried Brother Peebles, poising the pen in air. “Jes as much de law as de one you sign’ fo’ de picnic.” Brother Peebles scrawled his name on the dotted line and fished out a damp roll of flaccid bills. “‘An’ theh’s the fifty bones.” He glanced at the contract. “Moh than five hun’erd dolluhs!”’ he read aloud. ‘Ain’ you kinduh op’mistic?” “Not a bit, Bruth’ Peebles; not a bit. You ain’ nev’ hearn me orate, thass all. Prob’ly have you pledgin’ a few bucks uh de raise yo’self in de ‘citement, when Ah flaps mah wings an’ sails de_ heights empyemic. Prob’ly git you thousand- dolluh raise, ’stead o’ fi’ hun’erd.”’ “Wind to yo’ gizzud, Bruth’ Smelt!” “Thankee, Bruth’ Peebles,” replied Mistuh Smelt, holding open the door. ‘‘ Ah shakes a nasty lung. Jes you gib me a rousin’ sen’-off We’n's’y night ’n’ Ah’ll bring home de salt po’k. "Day, suh, g’day.”’ iv OUR hours later Mistuh Smelt, radi- antly garbed and swinging a light bam- boo cane, mounted the steps of the Barbours Carnegie Library and pushed through the door. With faultless decorum he ap- proached the wispy librarian, whose dull eyes glowed with a look of astonishment at the spectacle created by a combination of Mistuh Smelt’s pouter-pigeon figure and the machinations of Mistuh Smelt’s tailor and haberdasher. In the parlance of the highways Mistuh Smelt, from his brass- buckled oxfords and red silk hose up through his chameleonesque suit and yel- low silk shirt to his high-crowned woven hat, was a knockout. “Evenin’, m’am,” he said with an ex- pansive smile; “Ah’s p’tick’ly anxious to git me some books on o’to’y an’ ec’nomics.”” “Oratory and economics?” repeated the librarian. ‘‘Why, there are hundreds of them!” “So Ah heahs, an’ thehfoh Ah’s askin’ yo’ ’pinion.” “Do you want elementary or advanced works?” ‘Doan’ mattah, s’ long’s ‘ey improves mah speechin’.”’ The librarian pushed back her chair, rose, and walked over to a distant row of shelv- ing. Mistuh Smelt trailed her dutifully. “Are you preparing for a debate?” she queried, halting before a section devoted to ominously large tomes, and dubiously nib- bling the eraser of her pencil. August 7,1920 “No, ma’m, Ah’s gwine tuh make uh speech.” “At a lodge meeting?” “No, ma’m, at a chu’ch meetin’.” “Something on the religious question?” “No, ma’m; on de money q’estion.” “Money question?” “Yes, ma’m, Ah’s booked to orate at de Franklin Street M. E. Chu’ch on de high cos’ 0’ livin’ an’ hits "fect on de preachuh class. Whut Ah wants is some movin’ *spressions and some long wuhds tuh ’sperse *mongs’ de solid fac’s Ah has at mah finguh tips.” Concealing the faint smile which crept over her prim countenance the librarian reached for a quarto volume and carried it to her desk. Mistuh Smelt followed meekly. He watched her scribble hiero- glyphics on a card and tuck it in the enve- lope on the rear cover. Then he accepted the book. “The first speech in the book,” com- mented the librarian, “is said to be a masterpiece. It made one man famous overnight. The Cross of Gold, by William Jennings Bryan.” Mistuh Smelt surveyed the volume and grunted, ‘“‘Humph! Cross 0’ Gol’! Ma’m, ef Ah doan’ use de Cross o’ Gol’ to de ’easion, Ah gits de double cross o’ gol’ next We'n’s’y. ’Night, ma’m. Thankee.” On the steps he halted to adjust his green-banded panama to the contours of his cranium. ‘“ Mistuh Bry’n,” he mut- tered, patting the tome, ‘“Ah’s desp’rit. Ef yo’ treats me right, de ’Publican Pa’hty stagguhs ‘long ‘thout mah vote on *Lection Day!” HE milk of human kindness oozed sap- pily from the airy heart of Mistuh Smelt. His cuff links were golden, his tie pin was pearled, his shirt was resplendent, all was right with the world. Grandilo- quently he waved an inviting hand. “Step right ’hin’ de railin’, Mistuh Flowuhs, an’ pick de easy seat. Ah’s right sma’ht glad to see you.” “Thankee, Mistuh Smelt, thankee,” re- plied the visitor, dropping heavily into a chair. “Ah jes thought Ah’d drap in outen de heat an’ comp’ment you on dat speech last We'n’s’y night.” “Not ’tall, Mistuh Flowuhs, not ’tall,” replied Mistuh Smelt with an indulgent smirk. ‘“‘ De cause wuz one whut Ah had de keenes’ interes’ in, an’ Ah jes natchelly rose to de ’casion.”’ “Yassah, you sho’ had de brethren an’ de sistern right het up and _ shoutin’ han’some.” “Dat dey wuz!” “’Cedentially, whut wuz dem papahs whut was pass’ roun’ at de climax?” “Din’ you read whut you wuz. ’fixin’ yo’ legal signature to?” “No,suh. Inde ’citemen’ Ah jes grabbed de pen and wrote wif de right han’ whilst shoutin’ wif de lef’.”’ Mistuh Smelt opened a drawer of the desk and pulled out a sheaf of papers. He slipped off the rubber band and selected one. “Lis’n ca’f'ly,”” he commanded, and began toread: ‘‘‘Note. In consid’ration of mah membuhship in de Franklin Street M. E. Chu’ch, Ah heahby ’grees to pay thin ninety days to de duly ’pointed treas’ruh uh de ‘foremention’ chu’ch, de sum uh ten dolluhs to be devoted to de increased sal’ry o’ de Rev’nuh The’doh Peebles, D. D., as duly ’proved by de con- gregation in reg’ler meetin’. “*Dis note shall cons’toot a lien on mah prop’ty bof real an’ puhs’nal an’ is sign’ wif mah full knowledge an’ b’lief. Signed Han’ball Flowuhs, witness’ by Lloyd Smelt.’”’ “Thass ve’y well, Mistuh Smelt, but whut all dem highfaiutin’ wuhds means?” “Jes dis, Mistuh Flowuhs: Dat you an’ eighty-two othuh membuhs in de Franklin Street M. E. Chu’ch has contract’ tuh pay ten bucks t’woads raisin’ Bruth’ Peebles sal’ry befoh de fust uh Decembah. Ise c’nsented tuh ack as de financial agen’ in dis prop’sition, an’ ef you doan’ pay Ah kin sue by de law o’ de lan’ an’ e’leck.” “Can't squeeze no blood outen no tu’nip, Bruth’ Smelt.” “No; thass right. But it’s s’prisin’ how de astute squeezah kin squeeze jack outen a cullud gen’man.” “Splain on.” “Well, fer zample, s’posin’—jes s’posin’— you ‘fuses to meet yo’ obligation. Ah sets de wheels o’ justice grindin’—justice uh de peace, chattel mawgige, lien, an’ a manda- mus o’ nolley contender. "Long comes a (Continued on Page 60)

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a ae pm me ee: THE SATURDAY EVENING POST THE MOST BEAUTIFUL CAR IN AMERICA Ehave repeatedly stated that the great- est single asset of this company is the good will of the American people — the very positive friendship of an entire nation. Eastand West— North and South— youwill find the Paige trusted and respected as a fine mechanical product. And each day this reputation increases in scope and influence. Our car, very evidently, has earned for itself an altogether distinctive position in the great field of motor vehicles. It is regarded as a preferred investment and, as such, com- mands a permanent following of its own. The Paige is a fine car because our standards of manufacturing will permit of no compro- mise whatever. It is a great car because the American people have indorsed it with their faith and confidence. PAIGE-DETROIT MOTOR CAR COMPANY, DETROIT, Manufacturers of Paige Motor Cars and Motor Trucks Michigan

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60 No Flies to Disturb You ( eve t 1 an hour before | t bill "s air with Red VW Powder It’s almost in- visil Wh u come back r fly i r juito W I] be sleep soundly, witho snterrupt ¥ in the “‘Round Bellows Box with Red and Yellow Label.’"’ kK fi 2 jultoes, motl ‘ ° l bua t he lee. chicken | ti nt re ints 1 N r ke ( h l Ww | v\ low on 1 ts; in cracks of wal ul under car wherever race of insects, to Alnad or anu ials. 10c 25c RAT CORN ae mt does away w “7 » Ge phers, Pri s. Makes k guarantee stamped on packag 25c SOc $1.00 For Sale at Drug, Seed. Hardware, Grocery, and General Stores Everywhere » quirre no ' oney-bac every Boranicat Merc, Co., Inc. Be sure you get the Round Bel- lows Box with Red and Yellow Label. Look for Red Wing trade mark. |} ance, | pr’gressive pol’cy, ” THE SATURDAY (Continued from Page &8) club-swingin’ cop, an’ you pays. No efs, buts, an’ an’s "bout hit; you pays!” A pause, “Fer zample, ’gin: S’posin’—jes s’posin’—yo’ house wuth thuteen hun’erd dolluhs, an’ you ‘fuses tuh pay. Ah has yo’ house sol’ by de law an’ _ “Oh, Ah’s ‘tendin’ payin’, Mistuh Smelt !’’—hastily. “Sho’, sho’, but Ah’s jes citin’ uh zample, so’s you kin spre vad de joyous tidin’s. Ef you spreads fah an’ wide enough, Ah’s likely tuh reduce yo’ note by a coupla bucks p’r’aps.” Mistuh Flowers rose. Mistuh Smelt, right gen’rous,” mented, shuffling to the entrance. ‘‘Ah oof! ’Scuse me, Aunty May Bell, Ah di'n’ see you-all plowin’ fru dat doh!”” Heswept off his dusty derby and tore off a bow which would have put a Parisian boulevardier to blushing shame. “Step right inside, Aunty May Bell,” he continued unctuously, ‘You'll fin’ Mis tuh Smelt a gen’man uh de fust watah.’ Aunty May Bell sailed in and tacked toward the bland Mistuh Smelt, who was bowing decorously “* Aft’noon, ma’m, aft’noon,” he crooned. “P’mit me tuh show you ‘hin’ de railin’. Thass right, ma’m, he’p yo’self to de stoutes’ cheer. Lean right back, ma’m; de back am good an’ stout.’”” He sank into his own seat and continued in a patently “Thass gen’rous, he com- inquiring tone: ‘“Uh—whut Ah kin do fo’ you, mis’ - “ “*Mis’ May Bell Po’tuh.” Mis’ Po’tuh,” repez ~ Misti uh Smelt carefully, ‘‘Ah’s pleas’ t ike yo’ ’quaint- An’ you wishes to see me "bout whut, Mis’ Po’tuh?” “*Bout life insu’ance. “Life 'surance, yes, ma’m, suttinly. An’ whut kind uh policy would you prefuh?” “Splain me de kin’s you’s got.” “Well, Ah has de reg’lah pol'cies in de two comp’nies Ah represents—-de Mutchell o’ New Englan’ an’ de Planteh’s 0’ Looey- ville. They’s a straight life, ’n’ a twen’- yeah ’dowment, ’n’ a twen’-pay life. Nen Ah has de famous pol’cy o’ de No’th de cum'lative, ge’metrical Af’ican Lloyds *plyin’ to folks less’n | sixty yeahs ol’. “Ah's only fift’-seben, and de name soun’s fine. Splain me bout dat—dat cume — dat las’ kin’.”’ “Pleasuah, Mis’ Po’tuh, pleasuh, ma’m, De pol’cies am fo’ one thousan’ dolluhs, rega'dless o’ de age an’ sex o’ de insured. As de name uh de pol’cy sez, de premiums pr’gresses ge’metrically. De fust week you pays one cent. De nex’ you pays two cents. De nex’ you pays fo’h cents, an’ doublin’ up like ‘at. You pays fo’ one yeah only, an’ ‘en stops. W’'en you dies, de thousan’ dolluhs is paid t’ yo’ suhviv’uhs.” “Thass prit’ cheap ’su’ance, Mistuh Smelt?” “Yes, ma’m; pow’ ful cheap, Mis’ Po’tuh. Co’se de papah states dat if de sured misses two consecutive paymen’s de policy am null an’ void an’ de previous paymen’s becomes de prop’ty uh de No’th Afvican Lloyds for p’teckshun receive 1. Nen they’s a clause "bout ¢ ec wy 4 ny bein’ zempt f'um | mayin’ fo’ deafs by hangin’, ‘lectri- cutin’ an’ lynchin’, but thass no nev’ min’ to you nohow.” Mrs. May Bell Porter nodded her head approvingly. ‘“‘Thass mighty ‘tractive, Mistuh Smelt,” she opined. “De mos’ ’tractive policy Ah knows of, ma’m, Mis’ Po’tuh, an’ whut Ah doan’ know bouten ’surance g-me, Ah'll do up in a papah ‘an’ eat! Co’se they’s a fee a fi’ dolluhs fo’ de green-an’-gol’ pol’cy, w'ich same we frames free. So fo’ de firs’ paymen’ o’ fi’ dolluhs an’ one cent you gits de cum'lative, ge’metrical pr’gres ssive policy, framed tul hang in de pa "luh an’ reacin’ fo one thousan’ és lluhs.’ ain’t it, EVENING POST “ Thass jes de kin’ uh ’su’ance papah Ah yants, Mistuh Smelt. Jes tu'n yo’ face t’'wa’ds de desk an’ write de wuhds. Ah’ll have de money right off.” While Mistuh Smelt wrote diligently the prospective policyholder dove deep in her Brobdingnagian hosiery and fished up a bill; then from her purse she drew a copper cent, both of which she placed on the desk. Feverishly did Mistuh Smelt wield the implement whose might exceeds that of the sword, “‘An’ yo’ address is whut, Mis’ ma’m?”’ he inquired. “Six eighteen Ches’nut Street, alley.” “Yes, ma’m. Thankee.”’ He blotted the paper and handed it to the most recent client of North African Lloyds, Ltd. “Thass yo’ temp’rary ’ceep, Mis’ Po’tuh, ma’m,”’ he said. ‘De policy in green an’ gol’ll be ready fo’ you, all frame’ in gol’ nex’ Friday. Drap roun’ an’ fotch it den.” Mrs. Porter tucked the receipt in her generous waist front and ballooned to her feet. Mistuh Smelt held open the gate. **Ah’s confiden’, Mis’ Po’tuh, ma’m,”’ he said, ‘“‘dat the pol’cy’ll make a han’some *dition to yo’ pa’luh fu’nituh.” “So Ah reckins, Mistuh Smelt,” replied Mrs. Porter, waddling to the door. “Dat papah’s gwine tuh hang squah ovah de mantelpiece, nex’ to de merrige licen’.’’ “Soun’s ‘tractive, ma’m, Mis’ Po’tuh.” “Does, Mistuh Smelt, does. Ah inten’s tuh have me a swell fun’rel, wif a pu’ple box, ’n’ hacks, ’n’ er brass band when Ah stah’ts off fo’ de pu’hly gates. ’Day, suh.” “"Day, ma’m, g’d aftuhnoon, ma’m, Mis’ Po’tuh. Call roun’ again.” Mistuh Smelt strolled idly to his desk and sat down. From one of its crammed compartments he drew a tattered magazine article and carefully unfolded it. “‘ Lloyd’s of London, the Most Unique Insurance Company in the World,” he read. An ex- pansive smile crept over his face and he settled comfortably into his chair. Easily his eyes fell shut and he happily recalled the cycle of events which had brought him to his envied and prosperous position as originator and sole owner of North African Lloyds, Ltd., of Barbours, Kentucky. After fifteen months’ service in a steve- dore regiment stationed first at Southamp- ton and finally at the Bassens Docks on the Gironde, Mistuh Smelt, then Lloyd Smelt, sergeant, No. 243679, had been handed his discharge and sixty dollars by a harassed quartermaster captain at Camp Taylor one balnfy May morning, and told to travel. And straight to Louisville he traveled. Four hours after his arrival in Louisville he emerged from a saloon on lower Walnut Street, overseas cap cocked killingly over one eye and a bulging roll of nondescript bills in his pocket. The bonus under the ministrations of the gallopers had expanded eightfold. Hailing a taxi he clambered into the rear cushions. “Drive me roun’ to de bes’ store in town,” he commanded. On Fourth Avenue in front of Benedict's the taxicab halted. Mistuh Smelt tossed a ten-dollar bill to the driver. “‘Roll inside, man,” he said, ‘‘’n’ bry me fi’ dolluhs’ wuth o’ peanut candy, an’ buy yo’self de same. Ah feels rich.” Five minutes later the chauffeur peared at the curb with a box. ““Where next, old sport?” he queried. Mistuh Smelt tore off the wrapping, se- lected a generous hunk of brittle and tossed it into his oral orifice. ‘“‘Jes roun’, man,”’ he retorted, smacking his lips, ‘jes roun’, Drive me roun’ de bool’vahds fo’ "bout ten bucks’ wuth. Ah needs de aiuh.” In the most distant corner of Cherokee Park the taxi halted and the driver ap- peared alongside. “‘ Your ten bucks is up,” he announced. ‘“ Where next?” Po’tuh, in de *fectionery ap- August 7,1920 Mistuh Smelt ruefully contemplated the crumby remains of five dollars’ worth of peanut brittle and licked his lips regret- fully. “Jes drive me roun’ to de L. & N. deepo,”’ he ordered. ‘Ah reckin Ah’ll be gittin’ on.” Forty-five minutes later Mistuh Smelt stepped grandly forth from the taxicab in front of the Tenth Street Depot and de- manded: “‘Whut’s de tax, Mistuh Man?” The chauffeur glanced at the roll of bills which Mistuh Smelt produced, glanced at the meter, glanced at the serene guardian of the law on the corner and replied: “Thirty-four dollars.” “Thutty-fo’h bucks? Cheap at twicet de price,”” returned Mistuh Smelt. ‘“ Dat aiuh done sobuhed me up right smaht. Keep de change,” he added, tossing over seven five-dollar bills and turning noncha- lantly away. Inside the depot he accosted the nearest uniformed porter “Black man,” he demanded, de bes’ town in de state?” ““Whu’hbouts in de state?”’ “In de whole state, Ah sez. Ah ain’ p’tickluh.” O. Henry once spent two thousand words or thereabouts demonstrating man’s un- quenchable affection for his natal village how globe strollers and ennuied men-about- the-equator will, after conclusively and aggressively proving their citizenship of the world, rise in instant defense of the sidewalks of the sleepy villages they quitted years previous and to which—God forbid!—they will never return. And the red-capped baggage hustler only proved again the human equation which Henry demon- strated by replying: “‘Bahbuhs, Ah reckin. They’s a lot uh high browns up theh, an’ de two ’stilleries is pumpin’ full blas’.’’ “Plendy gals and plendy hooch! Yah! Den dat’s de town fo’ me! When do de nex’ train set off fo’ Bahbuhs?” “Numbah Twenty-six pulls out in fifteen minits.”” “Ah ketches huh. Heah, black man, take dis fi’ spot an’ tell de cockeye worl’ you’s met up wif a hot spoht!” Leaving the porter dazedly staring at the bill in his hand Mistuh Smelt pure hased a ticket for Barbours, then fifty cents’ worth of lollipops, and finally a magazine whose cover was made interesting by a pic ture of an alluring young woman wasting Christian kisses on a poodle. He boarded the train, selected a window seat in the smoker, slipped several lollipops into his cheek and glanced idly at the periodic~]. Chance led him to the article describing the operations of Lloyd's, and slowly he spelled out the sentences. The modus operandi of the unique English association appealed vividly to his own vivid imagina- tion, and in his absorption he failed even to note that the train had pulled out of the station and was clacking merrily over the yard frogs; which, if you are acquainted vith Afro-American nature, indicated con- siderable concentration. He paused in his reading only long enough to surrender his ticket, and looked about him only when he had finished the article. Carefully he tore it out and but- toned it in a breast pocket of his uniform. “which is An’whuh; ‘Thass de game fo’ Mistuh Smelt,” he mused, wagging his head; ‘“‘de Lloyd ‘surance game. Git me a nice office ’n’ nice gol’ sign ’n’ make me some jack. Yas- sah,” he continued with waxing enthusi- asm, “de cullud folk o’ Bahbuhs needs p’teckshun, an’ Ah’s de man they gits it f'um!” Straightway the coy goddess of Chance settled on Mistuh Smelt’s broad shoulder and curled up there for an apparently interminable stay. North African Lloyds, Ltd.—the proprietor hazily recalled a bla- tant sign he had glimpsed when the trans- port bearing him and several thousand (Continued on Page 63)

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And the . Symbol of Wel ymbol of Welcome ‘ 7: . is Light | HE. houses of rich and poor glide by, dark masses against the moon. ; But somewhere down the path of i the headlights is a different house, where laughter floats from the win bi dows, and light from a golden door hit way is caught and reflected in (C) E. L. W. of G. EB. Co / youthful eyes. | : Hy What does youth care if the hous PR { . 7 > - é omobtile ! if be rich or poor? The warmth of the i welcome ts all that counts, and the Each lamp is ' symbol of welcome is light. rt THE SATURDAY EVENING POST DISON Mazpa Lamps for your “His Only Rival” wrapper—and this, as represent the latest and best in lighting. lamp, is your assurance of lighting satis Use Edison MAZDA Lamt I S () ‘LAMPS as well as your home well as the name Fdison Mazpa on each wrapped in a distinctive — faction for every lighting purpose.

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60 No Flies to Disturb You ( } RED WING POWDER in the *' Round Bellows Box with Red and Yellow Label.’ ¥ } tl 10c 25c RAT CORN 25c 5O0c For Sale at Drug, Seed. i Hardware, Grocery, and General Stores Everywhere } } Rorant Mi . Co., Inc. ‘ \ $1.00 a & Be sure you get the Round Bel- lows Box with Red and Yellow Label. Look for Red Wing trade mark. THE SATURDAY (Continued from Page &8) club-swingin’ cop, an’ you pays. No efs, buts, an’ an’s ‘bout hit; you pays!” A pause. “Fer zample, ‘gin: S’po wl jes s’posin’—yo’ house wuth thuteen hun’erd Ab has ou ‘fuses tuh sol’ by de law an’ dolluhs, yo’ house an’ y pay. “Oh, Ah’s ‘tendin’ payin’, Mistuh Smelt !”’— hastily. “Sho’, sho’, but Ah’s jes citin’ uh zample, so’s you kin spread de joyous tidin’ Kf you spreads fah an’ wide enough, Ah’s | y tuh reduce yo’ note by a coupla b 3 p’r’aps.” Mistuh Flowers rose. Mistuh Smelt, right ger mented, shuffling to the entrance oof! *’Scuse me, Aunty May Bell ee you-all plowin’ fru dat doh!” He swept off } du ty derby and tore off a bow which ‘vardier to Aunty a Parisian boule p right inside, ied un } lt a gen’man uh de would have put ing sh ame. Bell, he ¢ ‘ll fin’ Mistuh mths Aunty May Bell sailed in and tacked toward the bland Mistuh Smelt, who was bow ny de orou ] Aft’noon, ma “Ste ontir sme etuou fust ’m, aft’noon.” he crooned. ‘P’mit me tuh show you ‘hin’ de railin’. Thass right, ma’m, he yo’self to de stoutes’ cheer, Lean right back, ma’m; de back am good an’ stout.”” He sank into his own seat inquiring tone and continued in a patently : “Uh—whut Ah kin do fo’ you, mi *Mis’ May Bell Po'’tul ‘Mis’ Po’tuh,” repeated Mistuh Smelt carefully, ‘Ah’s pleas’ t’ make yo’ 'quaint- ance. An’ you wishes to see "bout whut, Mis’ Po'tuh?”’ "Bout life insu’ance.”’ “Life 'surs 1a’m, whut kind uh policy would you prefuh? “Splain me de kin’s you's got.” ‘Well, Ah has de reg’lah ok two comp'ni Ah re presents o’ New Engl le Planteh’: suttinly. | An’ ince, ye a ae in de Muti hell o’ Looey- Pan’ « ille. They’s a straight life, ’n’ a twen’- yeah "dowment, 'n’ a twen’-pay life. Ne . Ah has de famous pol’cy o’ de No’'t Af’ican Lloyd de cum’|: itive, ge’metri« ie pol’cy, ‘ply Ixty yeahs ol’.” “Ah’ 3 only fift’-seben, oun'’s fine SI} “ n me cume dat las’ ; *Pleasuah, De pol'cies am fo’ r'gressive in’ to folks less’n de dat name dat and bout ma’ m. dolluhs Mis’ 1 Po'tuh, pleasuh, one thousan’ rega dless o’ de age an’ sex o’ insured. As de name uh de pol'cy sez, de premiums pr’gresses ge’metrically. De fust week you pays one cent. De nex’ you pays two cents, De nex’ you pay sfo’h cents, an’ doublin’ up like ’at. You pays fo’ one yeah only, an’ ‘en stops. W ‘en you dolluhs is paid t * yo’ de dies, de thousan’ suhviv’uhs.” ‘Thass prit’ cheap ‘su’ance, ain’t it, Mistuh Smelt?” ‘Yes, ma'm; pow’ful cheap, Mis’ Po’tuh. Co’se de papah states dat if de ‘sured misses two consecutive pi ymen’'s de pol y am ll an’ void an’ de previous paymen’ Ie rn de pro} ty uh de No't} Af‘ican Lloyd r p'teckshun received Nen they a clause ‘bout de comp'ny be n’ zempt f'um payin’ fo’ deafs by hangin’, ‘lectri cutin’ an’ lynchin’, but thass no nev’ min’ to you nohow.’ Mrs. May Porter nodded her head appro ngly “The mighty ‘tractive, M uh Sme ” she opined. “De mo tra ve poli Ah know of, ma’m, ’Po’tuh, an’ whut Al doan’ know bouten ‘surance g me, Al ‘ll do up in a papah ‘an’ eat! Co’se they's a fee a fi dolluhs fo’ de green-an’-gol’ pol’cy, w'ich same we frames free. So fo’ de firs’ paymen’ ©’ fi’ dolluhs ar one cent you gits de cum'lative, ge’metrical pr'gressive policy, framed tuh hang in de pa’luh an’ reacin’ fo’ one thousan’ dollul EVENING POST ‘Thass jes de kin’ uh ’su’ance papah Ah wants, Mistuh Smelt. Jes tu’n yo’ face t’wa’ds de desk an’ write de wuhds. Ah’'ll have de money right off.” While Mistuh Smelt wrote diligently the prospective policyholder dove deep in her Brobdingnagian hosiery and fished up a bill; then from her purse she drew a copper cent, both of which she placed on the desk. Feverishly did Mistuh Smelt wield the implement whose might exceeds that of the sword. ““An’ y ma’m?” “ yo’ address is whut, Mis’ Po’tuh, he inquired. eighteen Ches’nut Street, in de “Yes, ma’m. Thankee.” He blotted the paper and handed it to the most recent client of North African Lloyds, Ltd. ‘Thass yo’ temp’rary ma’m,” he said. ‘De *ceep, Mis’ Po’ t uh, policy in green an’ gol'll be ready fo’ you, all frame’ in gol’ nex’ Friday. Drap roun’ an’ fotch it den.” Mrs. Porter tucked the receipt in her generous waist front and ballooned to her feet. Mistuh Smelt held open the gate. “*Ah’s confiden’, Mis’ Po’tuh, ma’m,”’ he said, ‘‘dat the pol’cy’ll make a han’some ’dition to yo’ pa’luh fu’nituh.” Ah reckins, Mistuh Smelt,” replied Porter, waddling to the door. ‘* Dat gwine tuh hang squah ov: ah de nex’ to de merrige licet ma’m, Mis’ Po *tuh.” ae Mrs. papah’s mantelpiece, “Soun’s ‘tractive, ““Does, Mistuh Smelt, does. Ah inten’s tuh have me a swell fun’rel, wif a pu’ple box, ’n’ hacks, ’n’ er brass band when Ah stah’ts off fo’ de pu’hly gates. ’Day, suh.” ‘*Day, et" g’d aftuhn ,00n, ma’m, Mis’ Po'tuh. Call roun’ again. Mistuh Smelt strolled idly to his desk and sat down. From one of its crammed compartments he drew a tattered magazine article and carefully unfolded it. “‘ Lloyd’s of London, the Most Unique Insurance Company in the World,” he read. An ex- pansive smile crept over his face and he tled comfortably into his chair. Easily his eyes fell shut and he happily recalled the cycle of events which had brought him to his envied and prosperous position as nator and sole owner of North African Joyds, Ltd., of Barbours, Kentucky. After fifteen months’ service in a steve- dore regiment stationed first at Southamp- ton and finally at the Bassens Docks on the Gironde, Mistuh Smelt, then Lloyd Smelt, sergeant, No. 243679, had been handed his discharge and sixty dollars by a harassed quartermaster captain at Camp Taylor one balniy May morning, and told to travel. And straight to Louisville he traveled. Four hours after his arrival in Louisville he emerged from a saloon on lower Walnut Street, overseas cap cocked killingly over one eye and a bulging roll of nondescript bills in his pocket. The bonus under the ministrations of the gallopers had expanded eightfold. Hailing a taxi he clambered into the rear cushions. ‘Drive me roun’ to de bes’ “fectionery store in town,” he commanded. set origi On Fourth Avenue in front of Benedict's the taxicab halted. Mistuh Smelt tossed a ten-dollar bill to the driver. ‘Roll inside, man,” he said, “’n’ buy me fi’ dolluhs’ wuth o’ peanut candy, an’ buy yo’self de same. Ah feels rich.” Five minutes later the chaufleur ap- peared at the curb with a box. ere next, old sport?” he queried “Ww t p he q | Mistuh Smelt tore off the wrapping, se- lected a generous hunk of brittle and tossed it into his oral orifice. ‘“‘Jes roun’, man,” he retorted, smacking his lips, “jes roun’, Drive me roun’ de bool’vahds fo’ "bout ten bucks’ wuth. Ah needs de aiuh.” In the most distant corner of Cherokee Park the taxi halted and the driver ap- peared alongside. “‘ Your ten bucks is up,” he announced. “‘ Where next?” August 7,1920 Mistuh Smelt ruefully contemplated the crumby remains of five dollars’ worth of peanut brittle and licked his lips regret- fully. “Jes drive me roun’ to de L. & N. deepo,”’ he ordered. “Ah reckin Ah’ll be gittin’ on.” Forty-five minutes later Mistuh Smelt stepped grandly forth from the taxicab in front of the Tenth Street Depot and de- manded: “‘Whut’s de tax, Mistuh Man?” The chauffeur glanced at the roll of bills which Mistuh Smelt produced, glanced at the meter, glanced at the serene guardian of the law on the corner and replied: ‘Thirty- four dollars.’ ‘Thutty-fo’h bucks? Cheap at twicet de price,” returned Mistuh Smelt. ‘“* Dat aiuh done sobuhed me up right smaht. Keep de change,”’ he added, tossing over seven five-dollar bills and turning noncha lantly away. Inside the depot he accosted the nearest uniformed porter. “Black man,” he demanded, town in de state?” “‘Whu’hbouts in de state?”’ “In de whole state, Ah sez. Ah ain’ p’tickluh.” O. Henry once spent two thousand words or thereabouts demonstrating man’s un- quenchable affection for his natal village how globe strollers and ennuied men-about the-equator will, after conclusively and aggressively proving their citizenship of the world, rise in instant defense of the sidewalks of the sleepy villages they quitted years previous and to which—God forbid! — they which 1 bes’ de An’whuh; will never return. And the red-capped baggage hustler only proved again the human equation which Henry demon Ah reckin. "de strated by replying: ‘‘ Bahbuhs, They’s a lot uh high browns up theh, an two 'stilleries is pumpin’ full blas’.” “Plendy gals and plendy hooch! Yah! Den dat’s de town fo’ me! When do de nex’ trai n set off fo’ Bahbuhs?”’ “Numbah Twenty-six pulls out in fifteen minits. “Ah ketches huh. Heah, black take dis fi’ spot an’ tell de cockeye you’s met up wif a hot spoht!” Leaving the porter dazedly staring at the bill in his hand Mistuh Smelt purchased a man, worl’ ticket for Barbours, then fifty cents’ worth of lollipops, and finally a magazine whose cover was made interesting by a picture of an alluring young woman wasting Christian kisses on a poodle. He boarded the train, selected a window seat in the smoker, slipped several lollipops into his cheek and glanced idly at the periodic Chance led him to the article des the operations of Lloyd's, and slowly spelled out the sentences. The operandi of the unique English association appealed vividly to his own vivid im: git tion, and in his absorption he failed e to note that the train had pulled out of the station and was clacking merrily over the yard frogs; which, if you are acquainted with Afro-American nature, indicated con- siderable concentration. cribing he modu ven He paused in his reading only long enough to surrender his ticket, and looked about him or ly when hee had finished the Carefully he tore it out and but tina breast po ket of his uniform. ass de game fo’ Mistuh Smelt,”’ he wagging his head; ‘“‘de Lloy ance game. Git me a nice office ’n’ nice gol’ sign ’n’ make me some jack. Yas- " he continued with waxing enthusi asm, “de cullud folk o’ Bahbuhs needs p't un, an’ Ah’s de man they gits it ffum! Straightway the coy & xnddess of Chanee settled on Mistuh Smel It’s broad shoulder pone curled up there for an apparently interminable stay. North Africans Lloyds, Ltd.—the proprietor hazily recalled a bla tant sign he had glimpsed when the trans port bearing him and several thousand Continued on Page 63) ee LS Ce ro 4 ae

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST And the

Symbol of Welcome

is Light

HI hous of tf h al | poor glide by, dark mas ainst the moon

But somewhere down the path of the headlights is a different house, where laughter floats from the win

way 1s caugnt yout eves. WWI he | | “<DISON Mazpa m1 or your — S ly Rival” wray per— ane 5,a rat as youth care if the 10u ] | 1 ( eitt yu 4 automohil as WV ll a I hon well as tl name | | on M Z 4 on each be rich or poor? The warmth of th ie , pied . 1] repr nt the latest and best alt lamp, your assura of hghting sat welcome ts all that counts, and th | | — , loon F 1s |

~EDIS

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62 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST August 7,1920 HIS is the twenty-first time we have published here the Fisk ideal. It would have been folly to publish it once if it could not be backed— indisputably by Fisk facts and Fisk tire performance. We repeat: The Fisk Ideal—“*To be the best concern in the world to! work for, and the squarest | concern in existence to do ) business with.” Next Time—BUY FISK from your dealer — es 2 ake oe Time to Re.-tire? (Buy Fisk)

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es SS; ee nn (Continued from Page 60) similarly awed negroes had dropped out of New York Harbor— prospered. Risks were taken with reckless abandon, and calamity came not. To his own thriving business MistuhSmelt added that of representing two excellent insurance compan Lies. His winning approach battered down all defensive bar- riers, his jaunty raiment made him the envied cynosure of Barbour’s colored popu- lation, and his glib tongue wagged_per- suasively and persistently until a policy was duly signed. His blind guesses on the weather, and his similarly hazardous opera tions had netted him a handsome profit and his “Op’n ’em googoo eyes, man, an’ ten’ to bizness!”’ Mistuh Smelt opened his googoo eyes. He beheld the aggressive Mr. Horace Han- cock Breckenridge, whose bearing fairly reeked with revenge. He stretched luxuri- ously and surveyed his caller. _ Do, Mistuh Breck’nr idge, ‘“ he said; you looks li ke you is rarin’ tuh go.’ “Ah is, an’ Ah has! Ah wants some p’teckshun.” “’Ginst de dice?”’ “No, suh. Dis i is **Ah’s lis’nin’.”’ ““Ah wants some twin insu’ahnce. Mistuh Smelt jackknifed to an upright position. “Some whut insu’ahnce?”’ he exclaimed. “Some twin insu’ahnce,"’ retorted Hor- ace Hancock; ‘“‘an’ de sign sez you insu’ahs ev’thing!"’ he added triumphantly. “De sign doan’ lie, but splain me a li’l’ bit, Mistuh M: in p “N’much splainin’ to be did. De ol’ stork gwine ter flop roun’ ouah shanty prit’ soon, an’ Ah wants t’ p’teck mahself’ ginst twins, thass all. Does I git p’teckshun?’ “You does.” ““Wot’s de odds?’ “Doan’ say ‘odds,’ Mistuh Man,” re- plied Mistuh Smelt. ‘‘ Dat sounds gamblin’- like. Say ‘premiums.’ Fo’ a premium o’—fo’ a premium o’,”’ he continued medi- tatively, glancing covertly at the article spread on the desk —“‘for a premium o’ ten p’ cent ah ’sures you ’ginst twins; an’ fo’ a premium o’ two p’ cent ah’ ‘sures you *ginst triblets.”’ ‘Triblets? Ain’ said nuthin’ triblets.”’ “ Thass true, but ah jes mention it ’cause de two p’ cent pre mium makes de odds fifty tuh one, as you sez ‘Fifty tuh one? shot, man.” “It’s de long shots dat buys de baby's shoes, Mistuh Breck’nridge.”’ *Soun’s good.” “’Tis good! Lemme splain. You pays me twen’y-fi’ bucks. Ef ’at ol’ sto’k brings you one chile you loses; ef he brings you a *gitimate bizness! "bout no Um-m. Thass a long pai'uh, ah loses; ’n’ ef he brings three’va kin’ we bof loses ir ¥? long run.” ‘How much does Ah git fo’ twins ce ‘Two hun'erd an’ fifty bucks. “An fo’ triblets?”’ “Twel’ hun’erd an’ fifty Mistuh Breckenridge slapped down sev- eral greenbacks. ‘“‘Sign de papah!’’ he commanded. Mistuh Smelt queried, **When’s this ol’ roun 4 yo’ way?” Sout th iree weeks *Humph Mistuh Sme lt, without further ado, be- gan to write. He knew when to stop talk- ing. He dried his signature and handed the policy to the mpatient Mistuh Breck enridge, who seized it with perceptible satisfaction. ““Suah am glad t’ git dis papah,” he commented, thrusting it into his pocket ‘An’ glad to git dat offen mah mim’. ““Youse worryin’?”’ “Some. Mah twin si istah an’ Queenie’ two twin bruthuhs done ’vised me to ’spec’ de wust,”’ re »p lied Horace Hancock, turning away; “an’ now Ah ’specs’ de bes’. "Day, Mistuh Smelt.” He canted his hat over his left ear and strode blithely out into Clay Street. Some- thing in his carriage, the manner in which he swung his elbows, the care-free way he lifted his heels—had a disquieting effect on the owner of North African Lloyds, Ltd., who watched him out of sight and then scrutinized the magazine article closely. **De Lloyd’s odds on twins am fo’ p’cent Dat’s twen’y-fi’ tuh one,”’ he said aloud; ‘‘an’ on triblets one-half p’cent. Dat’s lemme see—dat’s two hun’erd tuh one. Ah done hedged de bet, but dat niggah’s got a confiden’ aiuh. De sky am gittin’ buc ks.”” reached for a pen and sto’k *spected THE SATURDAY Bettah step roun’ de libr’y cloudy, Lloyd an’ git some fusthan’ info’mation. vi OCTUH, as de dooly ‘pointed 'sician 0’ de Mutchel Life Insuahance Com- p’ny,” began Mistuh Smelt, carefully plat- ing his hat on the floor beside his feet, ‘‘ Ah needs some *y ce Soe Doctor Chenoweth laughed genially ‘All right, L loyd,”’ he re p lied. ‘*What sort of advice do you want?” “On twins an’ triblets weth.”’ ‘Twins and married?”’ ‘Res’ thah, doctuh, res’! Ef Ah had me twins or triblets, Ah wouldn’ be ‘plyin’ to you-all—Ah'd be up ’plyin’ to git in de pore- house. No, suh,”’ continued Mistuh Smelt, briskly, “‘hit’s this-a-way.’’ And he care fully explained the policy which he had written concerning the offspring of Horace Hancock Breckenridge and his wife Queenie At the conclusion of his explanation he queried: ‘An’ whut Ah wants to know am, has Ah ovahbet mah han'?’ Smiling broadly the M. D. queried: “Horace has a twin brother and Queenie is one of triplets?”’ ““Yassah.” ‘Then it looks bad for you.” ‘Whut’s worryin’ me am _ how bad, doctuh. Yistiddy Ah oozes ovah to de libr’y tuh git me de odds on twins and triblets an’ de gal pass me out a book on on h-h’-redity. Hit wuz full uh stuff "bout sweet peas, an’ roostuhs, an’ pink-eye rabbits, an’ shimmyin’ mice, an’ zy-zygotes an’ chrom-chrom-chromesomethin’s — 'r othuh, but nev’ no wuhd ’bout no twins an’ triblets. Ah’d be ‘bleeged for de real s’tistics, doctuh.”’ From his well-filled shelving the medico selected a mighty volume and opened it on his desk. After running over the leaves rapidly, he paused and read for a moment. “Lloyd,” he said, ‘‘according to Petersen, ten out of one thousand births are twins, three out of one thousand are triple ts, and two out of ten thousand are quadruplets. He goes on to say, however, that if one parent is a twin, the chances are one to thirty that twins will be born; that if both parents are of twins, the chances are one to two; and that if one of the parents is of twins and the other of triplets, it is not only practically certain that twins will be born, but that triplets may ‘Stop right thah!’’ exclaimed the per- turbed Mistuh Smelt. ‘‘Nev’ min’ no mo’ ‘’splanations! Ah’s done pulled me a cuckoo, an’ Mistuh Ho’ ace Hancock Breck’nridge gits his ’venge!’ ‘It appears that you've displayed bad judgment.” ‘Doan’ "peah, doctuh; Ah knows Ah has! Ef dat Mis’ Breck’nridge has triblets \l Priel ride in no yaller seedan -nevah, s faced wif a bankrupt sale Foe doctor rose. “‘Cheer up, Lloyd,” he said; ‘“‘the stork does some unexpected things occasion ally. Come to see me again Doctuh Cheno- triplets! Why, are you when you've gol better news Mistuh Smelt, considerably wilted, set- tled his hat on his head, took up his stict and departed. But somewhere en route between the physician's office and hi boarding house on Shelby Street he en- countered inspiration. For he strutted up the street with his old élan and halted be fore his landlady, who sat on her front porch cooling herself with a palm-leaf far ‘G'd aft’noon, Mis’ White,” he said after sweeping the four-o’clocks with a Brummellian bow. ‘‘Ah’s ketchin’ Num bah Twenty-seven fo’ Looeyville right off for a few days. Jes you have Ruby set in de office an ‘c’leck de premiums whut’s pay in an’ tell de folks whuh Ah is at. Ah’s rollin’ back nex’ Satiday.” He entered the house and reappeared ter minutes later, sartorially immaculate and carry ing a neat cane ultcas se "By ‘gin, Mis’ White,”’ he amplified. ‘Jes tell Ruby to tell de folks Ah’s down fo’ tuh e’nfer wit’ de directuhs o’ de called Planteh’s ‘Surance Company. Send you post cahd ff'um de big city, an’ be back Satidy And with a parting salutation he set off for the depot, pertly twirling his stick and tossing cordial greetings to acquaintances who turned in his wake t his pea- green suit with envy or admiration, accord- ing to their sex. Oo surve vil IVE days later Mistuh Smelt, care free, smiling and debonair, descended from the smoker of Number Twenty-six and EVENING POST plunged into the routine of business; and three xr later than that things with a capital T | vegan to start to commence to happen, fully in keeping with the flea- bitten adage to the effect that it never rains but it pours. Event One: On the day of the J apanese lawn party planned by the Afro-American Baptist Church and insured against in- clement weather by North African Lloyds, Ltd., a generous inch of rain descended between two successive midnights. Item: Debit North African Lloyds, Ltd., two hundred and fifty dollars, less twenty-five dollars. Event Two: Mrs. May Bell Porter, while waddling along a railroad right of way in open defiance of printed et tions to the effect that such practices frequently led to dire consequences, came | into juxtaposition with the business end of | the Pensacola Flyer and was badly messed | up; so badly that the undertaker called round with a purple box, and doleful music later filled the air. Item: Debit North African Lloyds, Ltd one thousand dollars, less five dollars and seven cents. Event Three: Pres'dent, the sole occu- pant of a ramshackle pigsty beyond the distillery, turned up missing one morning and a week’s sleuthing had failed to reveal | either hide or bristle of him. Item: Debit | North African Lloyds, Ltd., twenty-eight | dollars, less three dollars and sixty cents. Event Four: A businesslike young gen- tleman of the Aryan race, between whom and the owner of North African Lloyds, L td. , the —“_ dialogue transpired: ‘Nigger I’m the county prosecuting attorney. “Yassuh.”’ ““Where’s your charter?” ‘Ain’ got no charter, jes my licen’ to sell *surance fo’ de Mutchel 0’ New England an’ de Planteh’s o’ Looeyville.”’ “How about this North African Lloyds graft?” “Ain't no graft, own comp’ny.” Your own company?’ Extended explanations of the risks ae- cepted by North African Lloyds with em- phasis on the cumulative geometrically progressive policy. At the close of Mistuh Smelt’s painfully detailed explanation an expression which might have been amazement but which bore earmarks of admiration came over the | — cuting attorney's face And you've signed forty-five of these polie ies in less than four months?”’ he ex claimed. ““Yassuh.” “Did you explain to any of the policy- | holders thatetheir weekly payments would be more than five thousand dollars at the id of the fifth month and that they would be over eighty thousand dollars at the end of the sixth?” “Uh-— dat is, no, suh! But dey figgered it they self!” } ‘Has anyone refused to pay?” “*On’y one pa’ty e ‘fused to pay de fi’- dolluh ‘sessment, so Ahe canceled his pol "cy = ‘And you kept his payments?”’ “Suttinly Dat’s write in de pol’ey “By gad, you're a wonder for pure un- adulterated guts!” Mistuh Judge. Jes mah coulda ““Yassah, thankee ‘Don't than k me yet.” ti ass: ah Jecause I'm going to make you cancel every one of those high-finance policies you've written and return the payments you've received!’ | ” Mistuh Smelt reeled as if struck by a night stick; yet, as he reeled, he made a hurried mental calculation. “‘Retu'’n de paymen’s, Mistuh Yo’ Honuh!” he re- peated with horror. “‘Wha— wha-— hit’s gwine tuh cos’ me nigh on fo’ hun’erd dolluhs ef Ah does!” And ninety days in the hoosegow if you don’t !"’ came the emphatic retort ‘Do— do de res’ o’ mah bizness have yo’ "prov al, Mistah Gov'nuh?” queried Mistuh Smelt dazedly yet hopefully ‘No, it doesn’t,” replied the visitor; ‘but I can’t stop you. But I can stop you from selling that life-insurance policy of yours. And I’m going to do it! Now I'll be back here in a week to see those forty- five canceled policies, with receipts showing that you've returned all payments. If you're one short I'll swear out a warrant against you for obtaining money under false pretenses, and send you up to Frank- fort on a one-way ticket! Get me?” Concluded on Page 65) Versatile “Suede. Like” is as smart in Tamsasitisin Out. door and Sport Garments for men and women. Its Meister malie tite | itscharm,while its’ sturdiness insures . service, Produced - in the popular: : shacien fy % * , Th. oF AP aie ee

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64 May I ait on Jou — Please? THE SATURDAY EVENING POST la Art Goods Brushes Candy Crockery Dry Goods Electric Goods Gas Goods Glassware Hair Ornaments Hardware Hostery Jewelry Kitchenware Millinery Musi Neckwear Notions Paints and Varnish Rec ords Ribbons Shoe Repairing Materials Stationery Toilet Articles Toys Underwear Wi ooden ware = Laces and Veitings S.S. 5f-10#- 158 Red Front " AY I wait on you—please?”’ This phrase is symbolic of the never failing spirit of courtesy to the customer which pervades the entire Kresge organization. And, too, it implies the extent of the service which the Kresge Co. offers to the public. For the one hundred and eighty Kresge Stores hb e S give opportunity for the economical purchase of a vast multitude of everyday necessities. Unless you have shopped in a Kresge Store you have no idea of the number and variety of articles which the open counters display before your eyes. Some of them are listed here. And the values which you secure at Kresge’s Stores are equally surprising. These values are possible only because of the immense Kresge buying power and the thrift principles upon which the Kresge Co. 1s operated. To know what the Kresge Co. can mean to you, pay a Visit to your nearest Kresge Store. S.S. KRESGE COMPAN Mies: DETROIT RESG August 7,1920 Stores 25°- 50%- £100 Green Front

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST G5 é (Concluded from Page 63 Mistuh Smelt got him. Ir et like a punct 1 bi ind watched |} Neme sis « } \ t 1 er yt re through his whirling brain and diz he (A rubbed his brow as if to dissipate the cere bral fog which beset him. ‘ “Daddy!” he groaned. “Dis am de « @ | of a puffic ' De t me by de t ‘a } in’ swinging ha : : A 4 : 3 A fondly 1 ( f ‘ er tering th rl i . ) i ‘ t g ie tri- — eC eed cint ht « t ed flice laden with 1 : ji / } , } } ° i} chocolat au lait bell demanding and he saw himself , seh | receiving atter } 1e of a pl ent lar of his aecumu- ‘ horn, was elbowed from } ubcor i ited saving i change for gaudily ‘ their weight to — — —- — _ = } mself, whipped ‘ certain } 1 he seize eet of pa from the happy i began to calculate t 1 I r e corner of an recently paid he ed the 1 and unsung; am of the pre wi were to he baggy overalls, I ed fr ‘ by the pers¢ t it, rolling hog r of the pe ; Aftera dr ‘0 leaves in the ; . | ore aerus t Main Street thal! | ar le ‘ eT r ye ' a H ‘ ( wine to shut yo’ ef 1 ! t W [ le shuh — de ed de ead = de !” wheezed Horace ao | ih jack Ho'ace } f ’ ‘7 i} ih! silk shut We ’ od ] ee’va | H e? Brecke ry er f e des] ‘ ‘ ‘ reath he xg | ed mad t Legend } Glyce : ‘ 1 du tree Ron whe ; "wh t threv An’ they’s all black! pen hist ered } ur M h Smelt ed gainst the bearer to pie ( t t Robert of y Courtena a he emmed } the howmer Whut!”’ he exclaimed, aghast fa ce ve PY yt ‘ Ya ih! Qua ipiet ! C;imme if vife he } ] ! ed, |} ed he de twel’ } in’erd an’ ' p ' Ef ( ‘ ectable creature | 1 for the pe ¢ { ¢ \} ike ones!’’ eup: and thet the ¢ turned f e first time in twenty-six yea the field at Wate calm! | It M ih Smelt w peechle He opened seems we're | his moutl 1} y lips moved, but no Mistuh Sme } rel , | ime tur + fort} Hor H y i ) l ( orace i ! dramatie g | his finge ‘ ‘ mpe isly to the elbowing ORKING with the ‘“ Yankee’? Automatic Push t the ¢ f We ‘ Drill is safe speedy, sure Seven tension , ‘ ‘ } } thal fo] he ’ g° tab] 1 . } ] rs ‘ | ' na rawr . ' : idjustable to the size oi drill point and work in hand . nance ' V e mar ome alu i er \ he Nen gimme de e-ovah. Mean’ Queer Biting into hard material with a small drill calls for head « , a / P less pressure—just turn the cap at the base of drill ‘ | ’ ‘ ( ‘ ‘ Smelt hee me mpatiently: yme , } fluid to g bite a \ at | ey mene Eis tint With tough timber and a larger drill more pressure is iti ‘ i g } I he wv f tn } Mistuh Smelt came to. He wiped } needed. Turn the cap t ’ - e } f his hand. strode ' , - o the . to } cetrortol an envslon The ‘ Yankec tension adjustments allow rapid i ‘ M f ‘ 1 od lw gree la 1 itho langer of breaking bits. Eight drill ren F ’ | } t r . , . kin 1 f ; ‘ e pres pare convenience and working range of , lle for sed together in magazine hand 4 Dew! ¥ I prose- N ! You an’ Mis’ Breck’enridge ar 99 ~ ( tohne ' ) } r erate ( t¢ ! done p served de 66 | belligerently, ‘addressing the four t ‘tution! us rl Ah tells de ‘ d f a Ah ys , “ : esome ed eye } in’ 1 dat! ( No. 44 Automatic. With Seven Tensions ' it » mea ( ? t le ft ( oO pr 4} hy] } . . { o he } M ¥ PI t nt 3/1 t ll ¢ : whupy le gw t hun’ ar . es ; I , Gumr Ahr Wy Ty ; ' Length of t , point in I ’ rt Git ! A f og ' y , } i! "t I ‘Ah is! Your Dealer Can Supply You lemme ‘A } ( u__fiftes hun’ Wi y! The } ; } Nl elt pre No ! Yankee" Tools save time and | ! f y ’ . ’ ’ ’ ‘ V _ N , labor and help even the best wor! | I ‘ ‘ mH to? ~ q ed the r ‘ ‘ Ie ‘ ve enve ‘ er Horace Hans e ja a area oe rae Fankee } p iH eff Bri ; , Ran +} papah?” he fl ad Tool Bool pictures all the ingen: e, « ( fror dr Ther eS ¢ ohn makes d papah 4 ous “Yankee” Tools and explain t ping hat es lil to} gans, stagrered wut! i thousand bucl y their superior working feature: ; to the of r j to earest ~ 2 t n! , a » © | You 1 | vo’self le N Write for it its free j eve ‘ ‘ } to expre Afican LI r t twir t lets, i q ¥\ ! An « ted " f spectat Ah goes tuh New Yawk an’ p’tecks mahs« . ' l | f 1 V wkan’y i I thered from 1 ynere part ilar surged g t «ae ime by cle parent comp'n\ j BROS. e ¢ i A « 1 ove I y” () ly Ah goe you one Te | ‘ » the ettal pah reads for quad } In a ead-eagle leap M n wif vo’ torts r ,* \ ‘ Supreme ¢ t an M e’stwot hul “Fe | eon I Day eared the | Is « e last } ‘ Ay i r e dist ‘ et we i f ! t et h!’ a : , Mistuh Bre , od Mintuh Silt 4 whose cour ewa re ‘ ] ’ Lunnon 7 ] ' es of and swe I * No’th Af'l 1 Y houlder M hun'erd |} ' e ar : Smelt be W! whu fur | ! Call roun’ ne t Ho’ cash! iH ‘ ed } } honelk nd And the to? ed silence, Mistu

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66 Ne Mt, Bo ped Would You Call f: One Horse A Team? |: L HE fully equipped farm [J ia (Weta eons t ‘only th | bp hy Bye Fe ‘i FULL Aut itic Light and “ IE the cream separator, grind grin “ ind ¢t } ' , ” i ano ' : i pot Ra = r ce! re . = as LIGHT |}. AND POWER PLANTS | ELECTRIC ree =a FOR COUNTRY HOMES [- rotect ir investment Repeat { , pit , : ! Pe p ty i In rtain poi hurts them Se | When weet to rechar t! 1 t lama ! \ Mattel it ! tor ! \ut " nr , ( aretaker 1 ! Matt | } plant with l il me : i which au tica insur the 7 right operation a ctl wright — ba thine It ill t he lit t Be Lay the storage bate h to [L pay back it t " t t fe Phe United States Govern. i t, in te tiie \ i ith . , its naval ve t 100 it t etheiency 241 in « la \ # | the Matthe 1 i Mattl t basedor n ' f t reapa \ I rene! t [= and i 1 x } t ‘ rom _ 1 oo 0 wat hr it H : I’ $44 _ pw rd bor \ Write for Free ie | Booklet ‘‘A"’ i oy ’ me good te rte pen la fe te mr . i ) Full Automatic—starts (0% and stops itself — not | »% merely self-starting CONSOLIDATED UTILITIES CORPORATION—CHICAGO 730 S. Michigan Ave. This is No. 4 of a series of 13 ads. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST MAROON-COLORED, WITH WIRE WHEELS who dreaded all differences of opinion be- tween taxpayers, told her flatly that the war was the board of health’s war, and that he wished she could be more alert to these cases and catch them sooner She then supervised the rehearsal of The School for Scandal until five-forty. At this hour she put on the spring hat and turned her face toward the West Sconset Inn. She was conscious that what she had recognized at seven-twenty-eight that morning as the Friday feeling had now taken definite form | as a boring pain over her right eye and a grinding one in the back of her neck. Once in her aerie on the fifth floor of the inn she had a hot bath, a cup of tea illegally made on her electric plate, and went to bed. At seven a maid, subsidized to secret and expensive devotion, brought her a tray from which she consumed consommé and a salad consisting of one slice of tomato, three canned string beans and one pale sliver of exotic cucumber. The mashed potatoes and boiled salmon, sacred to Fri- day night, she left untasted. The queen of puddings with hard sauce she swallowed, in the belief that they contained the elements of a balanced ration. She prevailed on the maid to substitute a large cup of strong coffee for the after-dinner demi-tasse. For- tified thereby she rose, and through the intricacies of a deliberate toilet verified her hope that both the boring and the grinding sensations had measurably retired before her experienced attack. Standing a moment in front of her glass before she turned out the light upon herself, she knew that she surveyed a pretty woman, russet crowned, and becomingly attired in a gold that was not quite brown. She let herself enjoy the dark fur of her pale blue cape against the slightly hollowed curve of her slightly pallid cheek. Then, hoping that old Mrs. Brandegee would not spy her on her way past the social room, she went down in the lift and out of the door of the West Sconset Inn into a night ali odor of lilac, all stars and lavish moon. It was a night, she knew very well, for lovers. Probably many of the eleven hun- dred to whom in a way she was a mother were out under the moon, loving and being loved. It was not a nice thought, and Mary Elizabeth Williams knew that if they loved and were loved amiss it would be her fault. If they should be eloped with, her office would be filled with irate relatives at once. About once in two years someone was eloped with. It was always very difficult afterward. ““Men,”’ mocked the moon, and stars, and lilacs, as she gathered her cape about her and hurried to the theater—‘‘men do not elope with women professors.” She set her lips and pressed her ticket for Seat Seven, Row Six, Section E, more tightly in her hand. Before the last curtain went down on Bedtime and Trixie de Lash- mut she meant to formulate the unformed conclusion that had gathered in her mind all day over that expert testimony. As she walked under the spring moonlight she knew, being a frank analyst of herself, that she longed for a lover. Then she thought of Will Waterbury, Glee Club Biff Bronson and Hiram Prendergast, and shivered. ‘Better, far better,"’ she answered the mocking moon, “to walk alone forever, with only a partially tamed headache for company, than to ride beside any one of these in a maroon-colored car with wire wheels.” The plot of Bedtime, as you know, is not precisely consecutive. In general it re- volves about a blond mezzo-soprano who finds on her hands three husbands, two of whom she had supposed dead. They turn up just as she is singing Sp’ash With Me, Dash With Me on the front porch of a large beach hotel, all jealous, and all under the influence of something they have just drunk out of a shaving mug. While they do a very clever dance below the porch to that capti- vating lyric I Am Always Finding Sweet- hearts, a chorus of fifteen brunettes comes in unexpectedly from the races, and the dance develops into that great popular hit, You Cannot be Too Fast for Me. The heroine meanwhile goes inside and finds that the hotel clerk, a really excellent tenor, is in fact her brother-in-law by her first marriage. Finding a near relative opportunely at hand to protect her in her great peril she naturally falls at once into his arms, and as the chorus dances off, | enthusiastically applauded, she and the (Continued from Page 21) brother-in-law sing out of the hotel win- dows The Winking Song, which always stops the progress of Bedtime for a full four minutes. Their plan to pretend to be married in order to avert the suspicion of the three husbands naturally follows, and the great scene in which four apartments open off the hallway on the second floor of the beach hotel occupies the major portion of the second act. The staging and lighting of this scene are alone worth the price of admission to Bedtime. Trixie de Lashmut’s costumes in the second act are known to have cost a fortune, and it is here that she wears the pendant given her by the Duc de Moselle. Mary Elizabeth Williams had just time to adjust herself in Seat Seven, Row Six, Section E, and to note Biff Bronson in his box for four at the left of the stage, when the overture stopped, the lights dimmed and the curtain went up on the best beach scene that had ever been shown in West Sconset. The audience clapped for at least thirty seconds before it was possible for Trixie to come out on the porch in her beautiful bathing suit, all sequins. When she did appear, West Sconset, wearing this evening a predominantly male aspect, gave her what the Saturday Morning Clarion justly said was an unprecedented ovation. Mary Elizabeth Williams, behind a good pair of opera glasses, gave the famous and frequently itemized charms of Trixie de Lashmut a dispassionate survey. The eye- lashes, the dimple, the foot, the nape of the neck, the hand, the impertinent little nose, the golden curls close to her audacious head—all came under scrutiny. All these and much more were obvious to the scruti- nizing eye. She noted the competent sweep of gaze by which Trixie included the last college sophomore in the highest row of the topmost gallery and Biff Bronson’s box of four in her greeting. Even, for a brief flash of bewildering eyelashes, the gaze had seemed to gather in Seat Seven, Row Six, Section E. Then with a wide gesture of white arms curving from shoulder to de- licious finger tip she had embraced the craning multitude and lilted into the audacities of Splash With Me, Dash With wie. Her observer in Seat Seven, absorbing every vital detail behind her opera glasses, found her firmament suddenly darkened, and at the same time knew the agony of having her left instep, as it seemed, com- pletely crushed. A late comer of unprece- dented size and weight, and exhaling reminiscences of excellent cigars, was stum- bling over her in an endeavor to reach Seat Fight. Tears of honest suffering in her eyes, she scrambled herself out of his destructive route, and felt downward in the dark after her insulted member. From that moment she got very little of Splash With Me, Dash With Me. Working her toes in gingerly experiment she found that her foot was still there. The major injury was to her silk stocking. That, she could plainly feel, was torn across the in- step. By the time Trixie de Lashmut began tolead the chorus of Splash With Me, Dash With Me, while the rocking house whistled and sang it, she had wiped her eyes and settled back into grim considera- tion of the best ways to reach the West Sconset Inn after the play. She could limp along the street through the darkness, but could she in a torn stocking make that exit through the crowded and lighted foyer which West Sconset would think befitted an instructor of English in the Andrew Jackson High School? She began to see that as Dean of Girls she should not have come to Bedtime at all. Biff Bronson’s sleek blond head with its unmistakable thinning circle about the crown would be the target of no criticism in his box for four. Asa kind of substitute for the parents of eleven hundred adoles- cent girls she knew that West Sconset would lift its eyebrows very high at the sight of her leaving the theater. Her leav- ing it with a torn stocking would lift the eyebrows several hairbreadths higher. As the pain in her foot lessened she substituted for it mental anguish. It occurred to her, just as the three husbands finished their third encore of I Am Always Finding Sweethearts, that as she limped out she would probably come face to face with several of the forty-seven who had received her substitute for motherly advice that August 7,1920 afternoon. The ones who flirted in class and wore immodest shirt waists would, beyond a doubt, be there, with boys. They would meet her, coming unattended away from Bedtime. They would say in loud, sur- prised crescendo, ‘‘Why, Miss Williams! How do you do?” They would look at each other after- ward, and probably discuss her at break- fast. Parents not of the substitute variety, but temporarily functioning, would be shocked. Various forms of flight began to shape themselves in her mind. She could go out before the end of the last act, while the house was dark. She could, in fact, go now and reach the inn practically unobserved Or she might stay until the last syncopa- tion of the orchestra should fling Trixie de Lashmut finally into someone’s arms, and make the vulgarity of Bedtime the subject of a Monday-morning talk on decadent drama. She could affect to have come in the spirit of research. “‘Bedtime,”’ she could hear herself saying in her most effective platform manner, “‘is a symptom of mental disease. A musical comedy, without humor, without melody, without plot, devised for the vapid,” she could hear herself going on. As a form of flight she realized that this would perhaps be successful. She even fancied herself giving it added point by asking some of the forty-seven to say truth- fully why they had gone at all to Bedtime. What had they hoped to see or hear? Would they truthfully confess to having come to see how Trixie de Lashmut brought the world to her feet? A woman of con- science, Mary Elizabeth Williams knew that, truthfully, she had come to study a woman who could be eloped with twice a day if she but said the word. The Winking Song was meeting with riotous triumph before she again gave real heed to Bedtime. Trixie leaning from the hotel window appeared to wink not merely with eyes but with sequins and glittering smile. The tenor winked unctuous return winks. The two came hand in hand to the footlights before enraptured West Sconset had enough of them. Trixie kissed one hand to West Sconset, then both hands She indicated the tenor as the sharer of her triumph. She glittered at the audience, seat by seat. Mary Elizabeth Williams felt her glitter rest warmly for a moment on Seat Seven and Seat Eight, and on Biff Bronson’s box. When the lights went on Biff Bronson and his friends were gone behind the scenes, she supposed, to renew old friendships. Seat Eight meanwhile looked down at her, big and brown, and baffled. ““‘What makes her work so hard?” said Seat Eight. Mary Elizabeth Williams looked at him. A perfect stranger, he was speaking to her. As the substitute parent of eleven hundred she realized that there was but one thing to do. She must repulse him. Yet with her repulse well launched she paused. Could a man who had all but crushed one’s left foot be considered a perfect stranger? Even though a perfect stranger, might he not contribute to her talk on decadent drama? Might he not in fact aid her flight? Might he not—and here a wonderful color flooded her too pallid cheeks—might he not unwit- tingly tell her what, truthfully, she had come to learn? ‘*Besides,”’ a small and probably demon voice whispered, “‘who is to know that he is a stranger?” She looked swiftly about. West Sconset was saying things about Trixie de Lash- nut. Her eyes, her eyelashes, her dimple, the back of her neck, her hair, her foot, her smile, her sequins—were under animated discussion. People who had heard and seen Trixie de Lashmut ten years ago were say- ing she had gone off terribly or had amaz- ingly hung on. West Sconset was saying that she had had three or four or perhaps six or seven husbands. The mortal combat of two prominent New York bankers out- side her door was under discussion. Here and there behind a program someone yawned and said Trixie had never had much voice and had lost that long ago. Whatever else the town might be saying or doing, temporarily it was not thinking about Mary Elizabeth Williams. She gave Seat Eight a brilliant smile and plunged into adventure. (Continued on Page 69)

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68 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST August 7,1920 It All Comes Out in the Wash It’s as easy to soil clothes today as it was years ago. The process hasn’t changed. The wearing of garments at work or at healthful play brings burdensome washes as regularly as weeks roll around. But it is easier to clean them. Slow hand methods hard hand rubbing, heavy wringing—can’t even be compared with the wash-way of the Gainaday. With a Gainaday Electric Washer-Wringer in your laundry you can do the whole wash without any real * work. There’s a roomy zinc cylinder waiting that revolves and reverses, which tumbles dainty laces or coarse garments to immaculate cleanliness. Then —— the Gainaday Wringer will wring them—it swings = ; Go ~ TR Gp to any position, ”\ wpemeczcmees —di i > Our folder, “For an Easier and Shorter Washday,” tells the = } 0 tory in words and picture Write today for vour copy. oo } futhorized Gainaday Dealers Everywhere pa zfs ‘ PITTSBURGH GAGE @ SUPPLY COMPANY Vann aver 3012 Liberty Avenue, Pittsburgh, Pa. aay Wringer Gail] Washer

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ls ’ ' ‘ ' ! is ii i) i? ; ’ i j | ' { ‘ ~ rT er penne ee Fe eee “ee SO ere eee ry (Continued from Page 66) “Work so hard? Don’t you think she is charming?” “She don’t charm me,” said Seat Eight. “Why, the newspaper lady at my hotel gave me her ticket and said she’d introduce me to her to-night after this was over. But I don’t know as I can stand it that long.” “Really!’’ She looked at him in genuine surprise. ‘“‘What is wrong with it?” Seat Eight laughed. “T don’t know as anything’s wrong with it. Mebbe it’s high class. Is it?” The look Seat Eight turned on her was a look of honest inquiry. She laughed in turn. ‘Not from my mitted. ‘What is your point of view?” point of view,” she ad- ‘If I tell you,” she said slowly, “will you tell me why you think Trixie isn’t charming?” ““T don’t know anything about theaters ind smart people,” said Seat Eight, “but I’ve seen all I ever want to see of women like her—old and tired young and lively and trying to act She looks like she had the toothac he to me I don’t like the idea of the play they’re playing anyhow It sou! ae kind of tied to me. What’s your point es view?” ‘Well,” she admitted slowly, ‘‘you see, I teach Engl Tish in a high school.” “Great Scott! ’ said Seat Eight. ‘Are you a schoolma’am?” She nodded. A bell had tinkled some- where behind the curtain. Biff Bronson’s box had filled again. The orchestra sud- denly took up the opening melodies of Act II, and the house went dark. From Seat Eight came a sibilant whis- per: “‘Say! I meant to ask if I stey yped on you I w: is kind of afraid I had “Oh,” said Mary Elizabeth Williams has- tily, “‘not very much. It didn’t matter.” “Tf I ste pped at all,” have stepped a good deal. bad?” Violent sh-ing began about them. People who had paid two dollars to see and hear Trixie de Lashmut were righteously in- dignant. The real drama of Act IT, lost on Mary Elizabeth Williams, now performed itself for the benefit of Hilma Harding, watch- fully seated where Seat Eight, Row Six, Section E was within range of vision. In this, the great scene of Bedtime, the house customarily went wild. Trixie’s arch ren- dering of I’ve a Husband Behind Every Doer had been known to take as many as ix encores. To see Trixie sing it right at Seat Eight, and to know that out of mere human generosity she had put in Seat Eight the opportunity of Trixie’s lifetime, gratified Hilma Harding’s sense of the dramatic. “Talk about plots,” she told her world- weary soul. “It’s real life that has the drama in it.” She sketched in rapidly the possible re- view of the episode she might have in the Morning Clarior 4 wild man from Alaska might do anything. He might climb down from the balcony and make for the stage if Trixie sang her number adroitly enough He looked like a man who could walk up walls or down columns any time he cared to try. When she introduced him to Trixie after the show he might engulf her in his mighty arms. That would make a striking last sentence, accompanied with a little comment on his years of combat with elemental dangers like walruses and _ ice- he hissed, ‘‘I must Are you hurt bergs and the other perils of Alaska. She rather thought he might offer to take Trixie somewhere in the maroon-colored ear with wire wheels. How about that fora headline? Whatever he did or did not do, Hilma Harding, ready to indite and publish everything of interest, felt that besides the opportunity of a lifetime she had put in Trixie’s way much valuable publicity. Trixie de Lashmut, meanwhile, in a rose- colored chiffon negligee that deserved a paragraph, was holdir Zg West Sconset breathless during her dialogue with the tenor brother-in-law. You remember, he said wittily, “‘I don’t see what you are so scared of.” And while West Sconset enjoyed that the spotlight found Trixie as she burst into the strains of I've a Husband Behind Every Door. Looking on with jaded eyes Hilma Hard- ing knew that in that song to-night Trixie outdid herself. Between Act I and Act II something had happened that had taken ten years off her appearance. Even the slightly swollen look about her left cheek THE SATURDAY was less noticeable. Her voice seemed fresher, and that faintly beginning stringi- ness of the throat just under the chin hardly showed at all. Her archness left nothing to be desired. “‘Honestly,’” Hilma Harding told herself, “she’s a won derful kid; all she needed was an interest. She settled back with a benevolent feel- ing to watch Trixie gather in the fruits of her industry. Before I've a Husband Be- hind Every Door had gone halfway through the first stanza, however, she realized that something had slipped. Trixie, arch, de licious, the irresistible Trixie of fifteen years ago, was not singing as Hilma Harding had directed, straight at Seat Eight, Row Six, Section E. She was singing as if inspired, and looking at once like an angel, a minx, a schoolgirl, and an accomplished siren. But for whom, at whom, was she doing it? Hilma Harding, a frown growing between her brows, gathered, at last, the unmis- takable fact. Trixie was doing it at and for a box just at the left of the stage, in which she could see the silhouettes of four men, raptly attentive or wildly applauding. Not one glance of the eye or turn of the wrist did Trixie have for the opportunity of a lifetime. Hilma Harding watched until there could be no doubt of it At the end of Act II she made sure that the box had emptied itself, then she, too, slipped round to reconnoiter. They were all there, behind the wings, shaking Trixie by the hand, by both hands, and telling her she was a peach, nota day, not an hour older than when ‘When you boys were Freshmen and | was only sixteen! My! It’s certainly old times to see you . The worst of it was, Hilma Harding told herself, she meant it. She heard them plan a little supper after the show, a vast dis- gust growing within her. If that wasn’t Trixie! She had forgotten all about Seat Eight and the opportunity, at sight of that husband and father, Biff Bronson, and the other husbands and fathers in his box. She would eat lobster with them, and talk over the golden days of 1903 until one o’clocl feeling and looking very much the old, happy, sixteen-year-old Trixie The next day it would be all right for Biff Bronson; he could go about insuring people just as usual. But poor old Trixie! She would feel thirty-five again! The lobster would not agree with her, the dentist would give her another wicked two hours, Harry would be going right on with his suit, and the opportunity of.a lifetime, his perfectly good maroon-colored car witl wire wheels, neglected and forgotten, would have passed on his way, probably forever Hilma Harding, a business woman to her core, shrugged her shoulders. That was the trouble with these artists. They all had too much temperament. The idea of Trixie de Lashmut losing her head this way over Biff Bronson! She had been in such a flutter over her returned youth that she hardly needed her rouge, and had no eye for Hilma Harding’s disapproval in the background As Hilma Harding slipped, unnoticed, from the wings, she debated whether or not to stay through the third act of Bedtim There was nothing now to stay for. Bift Bronson’s supper party was not news that the Clarion could print. She went discon tentedly back to her post of observation, for no particular reason save that, with the half column already written in her mind now rendered useless, she must in some quarter find something to take its place She turned a lackluster gaze upon Sea Fight. The opportunity was there, looking browner than ever in the city tl rong and undeniably handsome ‘He makes Biff Bronson look like a statue in oleom: alge irine,’’ she groaned. “And who on earth is that with him?” She got only an impression of a b le cape , dark fur and russet hair before the lights were out, and Act III, set in the luxurious bachelor apartments of Husband the First claimed the audience. She had not recog nized the owner of the blue cape and russet hair, but she had recognized, in the rapt attitude of Seat Eight, that Trixie’s oppor- tunity had passed by forever. ‘No man,” said Hilma observer of much experience, at any woman that way has eyes other.” Seat Eight, Harding, an “who looks for any Williams as Mary Elizabeth could have told her, looked in just that way throughout Act II. During the sing- ing of I’ve a Husband Behind Every Door he had not given the stage one glance. The archness of Trixie, the pendant of the Duc de Moselle, her gestures, her dimple, her EVENING POST rose-colored negligee—all had been lost upon him. She had beenannoyedat first,and embarrassed; then, as Act II proceeded, thankful. Act II, she decided, giving it fragmentary attention, was impossible If Seat Eight preferred to look at her she thought the better of him. She began even to wait for what Seat Eight would say when the intermission began. When it did begin, his speech was like the escape of something held in leash. “Honestly,” he t ping of the curtain, ‘Honestly,’ said Mary liams, “‘I do.” She was bitterly disappointed. She knew what people thought of women who taught They respected them, sometimes She was quite sure that they always re spec ‘ted her After all, however, re pect | a drab and chilly accompaniment of worthy middle age. She sup posed, feeling gloomy and friendless, that she should be grateful for respect. She gave him a courageou smile. He leaned forward a little ‘Then,” he said in evident excitement “vou know about books!” Mary Elizabeth Williams’ smile grew warmer ‘A little,”” she admi books?” Seat Eight turned squarely toward her ‘I don’t know one thing about them,” esaid. “The only things I know about are out-of-doors things, like animals, and being snowed in and having your feet froze and washing gold, and wintering alone. I've been in Alaska for fifteen years. I've come rok > out with the drop “do you teach Elizabeth Wil- school school. courageou tted, “Do you like out now to stay. But I don’t know any thing about any of the things you people know. Why, I never finished grammar school. Say! a man named Wordsworth?” ‘Wordsworth? You mean the poe She turned amazed eyes upon him. She could not remember having heard Word worth mentioned in West Sconset ‘Well, mebbe you'd call hima poet. The woman did that sold him to me. I went of your bookstores and told her to give me something good, something I'd ought to know about. She gave me thi Wordswort! Say! Mebbe you could tell me what to ask for next time I go to that store She seemed kind of disgusted Do you know a" ¢ society nto one with me.” ‘I'll make you a list,”” she said, her smile warm and friendly, “‘of wonderful things I'd love to.” ‘Do you ‘there suppose,” he asked, would be schools where I could go? I'm forty -one.”” ‘You could have private teachers,” she told him “Why, of course! Will you teach me?” She laughed outright ‘Anything I can,” she said aloud Ir . wardly she fi ished: ‘* You nice persor Seat Fight le aned back with a deep sig! ‘You've no idea,” he confided, ‘‘ how muc! there be ucquainted w I've worried over ing not muct chance of me ey er getting itt a woman like you There seem to be ( many of that kind.”” His gaze, for the first time since the beginning of Act II, war dered toward the stage That was all Hilma Harding saw before the lights went out agair Bedtime riotousls dispirited way once more behind the scene If Trixie de Lashmut wanted publi to-morrow morning she was prepared to t was now up to her. The opportunity of a lifetime, he bend! olicitously over the woman in the blue cape. She could not hear him say as he did ‘Then I did step on you.” Mary Elizabeth smiled, somewhat rue fully. She was genuinely lame “It’s all right,”” she said over, she made her ould see, was ‘T’ll go out y,”’ said Seat Eight, ‘I’ve got a ear It’s maroon-colored, with wire wheels.”” He yave her a long, slow smile of satisfactior ‘It's a good car, too, they say And I car drive real good, now I’ve had her two months. And I'll take you home. It’s a nice night. Mebbe you'd ride round a little.”’ Mary Elizabeth Williams’ travers ed the streaming lines Seonset’s best citizens, leaving the balcor As she had anticipated, three of her fort seven were there, with- boys. She and nodded to them brightly. For some reason she did not care whether or not the though t she —— i be there. “I'd love to ride round,” she said Hilma Harding did not hear this be cause behind the scenes she was gleaning r wn prowl ‘ ‘ of We j smiled -SNt™ ar ——— —— SS —2 ~ 2 oe = => BUALDAZAL VASSAL EY f“Wear- Ever’! Aluminum Cooking Utensils In the Well Appointed Home the portant influence on kitchen—so im- because of its family health and happiness is given the same serious thought as the dining living room room, and be drooms. The kitchen of such a home indicates by itsequipment of clean, beautiful, silver-like “Wear-Ever” appreciation of the true well-furnished home. a fe al meaning of a “Wear-Ever” uten- sils cannot rust—-can not chip-——are pure and safe. Replace utensils that wear out **Wear Ever”’ with utensils that Write servinw and Jelly-moking v ells for booklet ‘Canning, Pre of easy ways to put up t Address Dept vegetables The Aluminum Cooking Utens)! ¢ New Kensington, P Wear-Fver' In Canada are made Compa I RROD EEM ye DOTY eS Sere eRe 9/ vane .. Serevent cone Treas: >

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You muscle put le bac k of it and get moreworkout of it—1f it’s a SIMONDS New York New Orleans Lockport, N.Y. Edgeholding —the out- standing quality of all SIMONDS Saws—be cause of their special saw steel, made 11 SIMONDS own cru- cible steel mill. Hang correctly and easily in the hand. Simonds Manufacturing Company lhe Saw Makers” Established 1832 Fitchburg, Massachusetts San Francisco Portland, Ore. Seattle Vancouver,B.C. St. John, N.B. Memphis Montreal Chicago London, Eng SAW STEEL PRODUCTS MADE RIGHT SINCE 1832 a I ; ‘SIMONDS beieee THE SATURDAY EVENING POST human-interest stuff for the Morning Clar- ion. As she had foreseen, Biff Bronson was there, putting Trixie’s orange velvet cape about her white shoulders. The three others were there, all in high spirits and all reminiscent of something they had all done in 1903. They were just setting out, in great and pleasurable excitement, when a messenger boy handed the star a telegram. Trixie read it, paling underneath her rouge, then cried, looking piteously about her group, “It’s Harry! He has pneumonia. He wants me to come right away. He's i: Omaha. Isn't it terrible? I've got to get the next train.” And amid the wrath of managers, the frenzy of maids, and consternation of Biff Bronson, get the next train she did. To- morrow night’s performance could be called off. They could sue her if they wished Hurry wanted her. He had pneumonia. In Omaha. She left them, with this climax, 1 a taxi, her orange cape still about her white shoulders, scattering behind her di- rections to her maids and defiance to Inanayers, Hilma watched her from the curb. Trixie wus really wonderful. Reunited with Harry ver his sick bed would make a stunning half column in the morning She was conscious of B ff Bronson and his boxful on the curb beside her, all forgotten by the fleeing artist. “Well,” said Biff Bronson, “we seem kind of out of it, but we can still go and eat. Come on!” They were setting out, rather without zest to quaff the dregs of their adventure, when Biff Bronson paused. An unusually tall man was helping a russet-haired some- one in a blue cape into a car just in front of August 7,1920 the entrance. As they had come down the steps Hilma Harding had noted that the lady limped, and that her silk stocking was torn across the instep. “Why, she’s that school-teacher!”’ she had just time to think, when Biff Bronson paused. “*See that car?” he said. “‘ Fellow bought it out from under me couple of months ago just because it was maroon-colored, with wire wheels. Yep. No other reason in the world.” As the four drifted down the street Hilma Harding affected to adjust her neckpiece Some inner voice told her that news was astir to-night. As she adjusted she listened. As she listened she looked. Her eyes, keen from long training, saw, as the maroon- colored car with wire wheels began slowly to slip by, the transfigured face of Mary Elizabeth Williams looking up into the face of the opportunity of a lifetime. Curiously a sentence of her own floated into her consciousness. “Men,” she found herself recalling, ‘‘do not elope with women professors.” The floating memory gave place at once, however, to the amazing thing that her keen ears caught just as the car was slipping past her. ‘This Wordsworth,” the man’s voice “ said —‘‘is he a good poet?’ Hilma Harding stared. “Wordsworth?” she echoed, gazing after the maroon-colored car with wire wheels as it gained speed down West Sconset’s rap idly emptying midnight street. Surely she had not heard aright. Yes, she had. It had been unmistakable ‘“Wordsworth?”’ she repeated as one in a dream **Wordsworth! Well, my word !2 Sense and Nonsense For a Change N A LITTLE town on Long Island the Post Office Department has inaugurated regular mail delivery. The postman, a puny-looking man, has to do all the work. Starting out at eight o’clock in the morn- ing he covers over four miles of territory, finishing his first delivery at noon. At one o'clock he starts out again and goes stead ily until five o’clock. A cartoonist, living out there, says he has watched this man for quite a while with ympathy. One day he refreshed the poor postman with a cup of coffee. “Pretty tough job you've got,” he re- marked as the mailman sipped the hot drink. “Yes, it is,” he agreed. “ But I'll havea day off to-morrow.” “What are you going to do?” the artist inquired. “Oh, I don’t know. I think maybe I'll take my lady friend and go for a long walk down the south shore.” Two Courses in One SEVERAL years ago the Brooklyn Base- Ss ball Club stopped off at Little Rock, Arkansas, to play an exhibition game with the Southern Association team of that city. The club was in the Arkansas capital just long enough to get one meal, a luncheon, and the repast provided at one of the local hostelries was not particularly appetizing. A Brooklyn newspaper man with the club met a group of players emerging from the dining room, and the athletes gave him due warning of the meal he might expect. “Stay off the meat. It’s terrible!’’ ad- vised Baron Knetzer, one of the Brooklyn pitchers. When the waiter came to take the corre- spondent’s order the latter said: “‘Never Just bring me some mind about any meat. soup and vegetables.” The darky soon returned with a bow! of well-seasoned soup, which the hungry scribe consumed. After that he received no further attention. Finally getting the waiter’s eye he asked “George, what's the matter with the vege tables I ordered?” ““Why, man, the vegitibuls was in the oup,”” came the prompt response. A Fussed Cook OLLOWING a discussion at the Green Room Club in New York as to what na- tion of men knew least about cooking a test was made at a camp maintained on the shore of the Great South Bay and the prize has been awarded to an Englishman. This British member, so they say, was assigned to the job of cooking eggs while the rest of the party made it a point to stay away from the shack. Upon their re turn they found the cook in quite a fuss “T say,” he complained, “I’ve been boiling these bally eggs for more than an hour and they are not soft yet.” Jokes a la Mode HAT vaudeville performers keep abreast of the times became quite apparent the other night in New York when four differ- ent comedians, following the nomination of Harding and Coolidge, revived and re- dressed a fairly well-known baseball joke in exactly the same form: The two successful candidates, they re- lated, upon leaving Chicago stopped at a small restaurant and ordered a quick lunch “Say, waiter,”’ one of them called to the servitor, ‘‘our beans seem to be cold.” “Well,” he suggested, ‘“‘why not put on your hats?”

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\ =~ Sal a N NY ~ S38 ¢ uA SC ~~ > 3% WSOOOO PPPOE, | Seem I, ~. SoS L525 E545 % > > SE 23 C5 SSS o> SESE Pseseoe THE SATURDAY EVENING POST } MADE TO MEASURE |,’ What KAHN Advertising Means to You and to KAHN Dealers The very sustenance and nourishment of business 1s advertising that 1s studiously truthful. Every remote suggestion, as well as every direct statement in all KAHN advertising, has been care- fully weighed. KAHN Made-to-Measure Clothes are truly wonderful values, whether judged by past or present market standards. In all of our appeals to you—three of which are reproduced on this page-- we have persistently assured you of the fine quality of KAHN Made- to-Measure Clothes. And we have said that fine quality in tailoring depends on three intimately re- lated factors—-on artistic designing, on the use of the finest fabrics, and on the careful supervision of even the ieast detail of expert workmanship. In all of our advertising, we have made quality the consideration of prime importance. In all of our advertising, too, we have called your attention to the fact that in buying KAHN Made-to-Measure Clothes you get the same fine quality of material, workmanship and style that the most exclusive custom tailoring gives you,for about the same price you would have to pay for really good ready-made clothes. Quality production on a large scale enables us to keep the price of our clothes within the reach ot almost everyone who appreciates the pleasure and satisfaction of being well dressed. We have pledged ourselves, without reser vation, to the production of the finest quality of Made-to-Measure Clothes at the fairest price This is what KAHN advertising means to you, and to KAHN dealers. it means protection as to quality and price; and the sign and seal of that protection is the KAHN label, which is sewed in every suit or overcoat produced by the Kahn Tailoring Company of Indianapolis Clothiers, Merchant Tailors and Haberdashers — write for our novel booklet “KAHNATIONS from KAHN Dealers’’ KAHN -TAILORING~- CO UF INDIANAPOLIS U.S.A

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Jor comfort Freedom of movement is the possession of every President wearer No pull on buttons, no bind on shoulders. Every pair guaranteed ne President buckle | —— THE SATURDAY EVENING POST EVERYBODY'S BUSINESS provide us with no date to show its begin- ning. Linen was the prescribed vesture of the priests of Israel, and fine linen was the material that clothed the royalty of the earth up until a century ago. In recent years more than one-third of the linen of the world has been manufac- tured in Ireland from flax grown in Russia. Less than four per cent of the raw material used by the Irish is home grown. Belgium has produced the best grade of flax, which has been largely used in the manufacture of shoe threads. Small tonnages have also been grown in Holland, France, Austria- Hungary and Germany. Here in the United States we have been growing less than 6000 acres of flax for fiber, while at the same time our imports of linen textiles have averaged something like $20,000,000 annually. America was once a linen country, and as far back as 1810 we produced more than 21,000,000 yards of linen, all of which was hand spun and hand woven. The records of that time show that flax was grown and linen produced on almost every farm in the thirteen original states. To-day the only linen mill in the country in operation is making crash toweling from imported flax. The advent of cotton machinery ousted the linen industry from America, for a hand- made product could not compete with a machine-made fabric. At the time of the commencement of our Civil War we were producing 5,000,000 pounds of flax fiber in the United States. The supplies of raw cotton were cut off by | the South and Northern mills were idle. | out of Egyptian bondage. This situation gave an enormous impulse to the flax industry, and every effort was made to encourage the domestic production of flax. In 1863 Congress appropriated $20,000 for an investigation ‘“‘to test the practica- bility of cultivating and preparing flax or hemp as a substitute for cotton.” 'As a result of the necessity that had risen the production of flax increased to 27,000,000 pounds by i870, but as there were no new improvements in the laborious methods employed to prepare flax fiber, cotton again gained the ascendancy, and by 1880 the production of flax in the United States had fallen to less than 2,000,000 pounds. The owners of large hotels and restau- rants, where considerable quantities of linen are used, state that linen will outlast cotton goods in everyday wear in a proportion of not less than one to six. That is, one linen sheet or tablecloth will outwear six such articles made of cotton. Hundreds of fam- ilies in the United States have valuable heirlooms in the shape of linen articles that were made 100 years or more ago. To such people there is no need to present proof that linen is a fabric possessed of many superior qualities The most remarkable fact with relation to the linen industry of the world is that the same methods are in vogue to-day in prac- tically all countries as were used in the days when Moses led the children of Israel This method | consists of pulling the flax straw up by the | roots, taking off the seed in a rippler and submerging the straw in water for several weeks in order to rot away the vegetable gum which binds the flax fiber to the woody pith or straw 7 Not only does this ancient method entail hard labor in the water pits, but it is in- tensely disagreeable because of the unpleas- } ant odors resulting from the decay of the vegetable matter. The only other known method is to spread the flax straw, after it has been deseeded, on the grass, subjecting it to the action of rain, sun and dew. This latter method depends largely on weather conditions for its success, and does not al- ways bring satisfactory results, even when the straw is turned over every day for three orfour months. Methods such as these had little appeal for the American farmer, and the consequence was that he turned from flax to more profitable crops at the earliest opportunity. It is likely that the long slumber of the linen industry in America has been occa- sioned by the lack of any real incentive for science to devote close and persistent atten- tion to the problem. The war furnished us that incentive, and advances have been made that will probably revolutionize the linen industry of the world. Engineers have produced a special mowing machine and a bunching device that cut 2000 acres of flax (Concluded from Page 37) in Michigan at a cost of $8.50 an acre. This compares with a cost of seventeen dollars an acre for pulling by hand. Up in Canada another machine has been devised that succeeded in gathering and binding flax at a low cost. Other inventors have produced a machine to take the place of the old-fashioned scutching wheel, which latter requires a skilled operator. The new machine can be operated by a girl, and re- duces the cost to about sixty per cent of what it was before. The newest and perhaps the most im- portant discovery is the development of a synthetic process whereby a solution is pro- duced that has an affinity for the gum that binds the fiber to the flax stock. This liquid, which is prepared without the use of any inorganic chemical matter, attracts and precipitates the gum, leaving the fiber free * and uninjured. The entire process, from the straw to the finished fiber, requires less than two hours, which compares with weeks and months consumed by the old methods. As a general rule the majority of inven- tions designed to advance or improve the methods employed in the utilization of a common raw material have come as a result of accidental discoveries in daily practice rather than deliberate research. Here we have the process reversed. We are now prepared to go ahead with the manufacture of linen, and the country has no raw ma- terials with which to make the fabric. In other words, we are long on methods and short on goods. A number of people interested in the re- establishment of a linen industry in the United States are taking steps to encourage American farmers to devote attention to the cultivation of flax. The proposed plan is to erect decorticating mills in various parts of the country where the landowners will agree to put 1000 acres or more into flax. This flax will be delivered to the mill, where it will be threshed and reduced to green-line fiber. This fiber will be baled and shipped to a central retting plant, erected to take care of an agricultural unit of no less than 10,000 acres. The product that comes from the central plant will be baled and shipped abroad, or used for domestic consumption just as cotton is to-day. Asan adjunct to the central plant there will be a linseed-oil mill for the production of such oil, with a by-product of cake which will be used as a cattle feed. The reports of investigators show that on an average 100 acres of land will yield ap- proximately 200 tons of flax straw and seed. Of this tonnage twenty-two tons are seed, 116 tons are shive and boll and sixty-two tons are green-line fiber. Out of the sixty- two tons of green-line tiber come twenty- five tons of gum. It is this gum that is mixed with the boll and shive to make an animal feed that contains proteins, carbo- hydrates and fat. The cultivation of flax presents no new problem to the intelligent farmer. Though flax will grow almost any place where other farm crops can be successfully raised, it does best in a good sandy-loam soil. Years ago the opinion prevailed that flax is ex- hausting to the soil. This belief has been disproved, and it is now known that it makes no more demands on the soil than any other grain crop. It isa fact, however, that flax will not grow on the same land year after year, since it deposits a humus in aM August 7,1920 the soil that acts against itself, which de- mands that at least three years must inter- vene before flax is again grown on the same ground. In other words, it should be ro- tated at least once in four years and should be sown after potatoes, beans, vetches or other nitrogenous plants. This does not mean that it will fail to thrive if sown after other crops. Experience has taught that it rotates well with wheat, oats or rye. Last year a test crop of flax was grown in southeast Georgia, and a subsequent inves- tigation showed that this product was of as good quality as the Irish or Belgian flax. In our Southern States the crop can be sown in February and will mature in from eighty to ninety days, leaving ample time for the planting of corn, cotton, potatoes and other crops. In sections where the boll weevil is playing havoc with cotton flax can be grown as a substitute crop. If the plans that are under way successfully mature the farmers of the South will be able to use flax as a spring crop, so that it would not interfere with the growing of cotton later. There is now an annual demand for about 12,000 tons of flax in the United States for use in the thread and linen crash industries. In Europe the hundreds of thousands of spindles that are either idle or working part time would consume all of the flax that could be produced in this country for years to come. Prior to the war the price of flax averaged round twenty-five cents a pound. Since then the price has risen to one dollar or $1.50 a pound, according to grade. It is also certain that just as soon as American textile manufacturers find that they can get a constant supply of flax at a reasonable price they will take up the manufacture of linen, and America will witness the birth of a new industry. According to the reports of the United States Department of Agriculture, more than 4,000,000 acres of land throughout the world were devoted to the growing of fiber flax at the commencement of the war, and this area produced about 800,000 tons of fiber. The flax-spinning factories of the world contained about 3,000,000 spindles, of which number one-third were in Ireland. One authority estimates that from four to five million acres of flax will now have to be grown to supply the normal world de- mand. At first glance this acreage may seem quite large, but it is small when com- pared with the 38,000,000 acres that are de- voted to growing cotton in the United States each year. It is also stated that cot- ton requires considerably more money and fifty per cent more labor to produce than flax. It requires from three to five acres of land to grow a ton of flax fiber. Fiber flax- seed grown in Michigan in 1918 brought about ten dollars a bushel for export to Ireland. Canadian flax in 1918 sold as high as eighty cents a pound. Thresher-run seed brought six dollars a bushel. If the linen industry of the world is to be born again its new life will come from the substitution of scientific knowledge and new machines for the old, tedious processes of Nature. The Russian farmers engaged in the growing of flax, not for love or money, but because a government edict compelled them to plant a percentage of their land in flax. This product was later collected by the taxgatherers and sold to liquidate taxes levied on the farms. The soviet leaders have declared an end to flax-fiber production except for home consumption. It is plain therefore that the time is ripe for America to enter the field and with the aid of science and invention resurrect and modernize the dying art of linen manufacture. Good linen to-day commands a price that is from five to fifteen times as much as was paid for pieces of this fabric before the war. Unless our American farmers soon come to the rescue the present owners of real linen goods will be able to trade their supplies of this material for such trifles as an automo- bile, a house and lot or a balcony seat in a modern, first-class theater next winter after the new scale of prices has gone into effect. A large supply of good linen would prob- ably improve and cheapen the production of automobile tires, which are now made of a cotton fabric that possesses far less endur- ance and strength than linen. The aircraft industry is also becoming a business that threatens to duplicate the rapid growth of the motor-car business. What can we use for airplane wings that will prove to be as satisfactory as this fabric that has served humanity since the beginning of time?

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST - Tt) oe Yo oe oe = wii = A Pele > kes ae - “en > ‘ : : a ~~ f, qa oor on Sr oar oor on oor Zz << x 8 in ree ON - oe ¢ GUARANTEE wu we J SATISFACTION CUABANTT ED OR YOUR HONEY wi at rervence @ ARTIRUGS \c=s The bride makes a discovery— “This 1 ivy has ust the « o nicely with th HE. young bride who js finding shopping for the new home a strenuous tax on her purse, has tound a solution. ' damp mop cl ae s, Madam,” tl itished with ye should find it in ; the seal —‘ Satistact Ni ANY women who ( 4 ered this economical, « lean, and vithal genus \ the limitsot the most mod Neat, plain blue and whit brown and white patterns for less kitchen or dir harmonious ones ft i1A NCI ‘ ( VELAND Zs —. Sa } zg we . tana au a a ; “3 , 7522: - ~e a , Z ‘ : : ‘ ; " .*. s« ” -

<xt ore Re pkey ieee Moe ns a rr rr G< —— a x<2t_ rrr ir =x ~ <xrxrr ox =. +e == See =? FR, Sa . =. = — . 4 — Nl ee SO St Net EE Nag it ee et vl, We G “~ PAS mM - eS i. . ~ “em .

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PASSENGER ¢ IRS THE SATURDAY COMMERCIAL CARS XC AC \( \ At t b L } \( Lal } \ i I L I AC Ik \C EVENING POST s Reg RRR AC \C The Standard . H I Hi Hu Imperial } jot h rh I y August 7,1920 x > > = > Look in this list for your automobile and find the partic- PRaAey + x ular type of AC Spark Plug which is specially designed i; When you need spark plugs go to your een Reg. At \C’s as indicated in the list given. ae . for your engine. dealer and buy the Keep this page. Hang it on the wall M of your garage for future reference Champion Ignition Company, FLINT, Michigan we: ban | ‘ ; ‘ >a. | 1 4 Long AC Tit " \ \ Ire » Reg. AC Tract ; WVISCELLANEOUS t ' t » Re t . 1 I i \ att Motor Wheel. Reg. M AC Tit AF Reg. AC Titan |. ' oa 11RCRAFT MOTORS u Aviation — Metric ctor Hall tt AC Aviati \ : ry tan Car Hispa liza AC Avi AC Tit 1on Proof Liberty AC Avi ed ee nm > »

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST I Mr. Markheim, Pinto and Aliciaand my- Swiss! And everything! It was too dread- complications of publie knowledge of her signs of the incendiary glare, but t An automobile dashed by down the Letter 2 @QARnAT TT O 7 DM ] LIZ 7A” Ty ffi) 40d can) qr L PAYS I Continued from Page 27 in valr ry and I have a veryone went cri elf were indoors, an unusually cold snap ful! Nothing could make me feel that she engagemen having offered us the treat of an open fire, was doing it for any reason except pity ar i Instead of which I stood round and box road with two prospectors in it. On a not unmixed pleasure by reason of our because he had nagged her into it with hi admired the wonderful five-carat diamond was firing a gun like mad and he yelled ( being under some anxiety about the trees. ceaseless attentions. Of course we had ring which Markheim produced, and be ymething unintelligible at us in passing | But on the whole it was what some modern nothing against him, absolutely nothing, haved like an idiot generally. but ignored our invitation to stop » poet whose name I cannot at the moment because after all being a mi iire art ‘Well, well, when is it to be?”” Mr. Pegg Then from the direction of the town a > recall has termed the end of a pe rfect day. collector is not in itself str tly criminal wanted to Know flivver eme rged out of the sw ftly falling 4 To begin with, I had dispatched three But with the memory that beautiful Alicia turned her big eye lowly to he dusk, and as it stopped in front of our gate pounds of wool to Euphemia, who Galadia, 1 ! tillfresh in my own mind _ father’s puzzled face a man in the uniform of an American my only source of information about my tand it —I simply could ‘I have promised Sebastian,” she said captain jumped down with the aid of h i ter, had written was doing great worl ver of my being resented — slowly, “‘to marry him as soon as the war uninjured arm, the other being supported ih P r her chief natural gift, ' Tt was all wrong. She over!"’ I i sling, and came running toward us had suddenly become of had a silly notion that her heart was dead Her tone had, to my ears, the expect flinging his cap into the air, the lights from ance since the outbreak and that it didn’t matter what she did. of a long reprieve. our porch gleaming upon his excited face she had to her and upon the decorations on hi credit and the honor of the family breast three hundred pair of socks. The “Victory!” he shouted “Vi hievement appeared almost for tory! Schoolhouse fire? Hell! The eign to me, inasmuch as I had not armi ce was signed at two o'cloch knitted any socks since that m to-day !"’ mentous pair at Monte Carlo, a It was Richard, the chauffeur, irprising faculty for a ui ind I assure you that it was at tive existence having developed in that moment that I recognized the me during my sojourn on the ranch. trong family resemblance and de At any rate I had sent out the cided that he might after all be a vool, finished my last jar of mar- Talbot —one of our Talbot malade, of which I had made : You can imagine the wild riot experimental thousand for a m into which the news and the bearei ¢ Mr. Pegg intended the it threw u I cannot describe it eim had returned froma t East lurred recollection of kissing sev par A Pinto. Peache eral persons, the Chinaman among i that d icceeded breaking them. But only one thing stand i ! he had long desired as a out clearly in my mind Alicia idle horse and had hitherto beer standing like a stone in a cornet! uccessful wit} Mr. Pegg had of the veranda, her white face lifted pecial design for the marmalade to the rising moon, and Markheim a crystal orange, of the nat running toward her with burning c ! ipe, the ds which seemed to fall upon l fu nthe Ds deaf ears. I were n tenthu ( “Alicia, Alicia, it’s the end of Mer. Mavkhatmelsacn the war!"’ he was shouting x eared that he |} | RECALL upon one occasion my ed to install in his lear father having said that love i ire which he had long coveted, ina cottage was better than polite i this picture was none other ness in a mansion, and this came n the Madonna of the Lamp, at once to mind upon the occasior V1 h he I ip 1 five hundred of our visit to Sebastian Marl isand dollar Since } pur heim's palace on the banks of the ise of it the picture had beer upper section of the Hudson River red, and it seemed to me a This took place just six mont} ge time to trouble with ge after that wonderful night whe r out, but Sebastian M my dear nephew, as I was now « ! vith the fervor of the true need he was, returned, 80 tospea f nd the madne whic with the armistice in his pocket eems the hall mark of his kind, Sebastian, as I was now instructed ent oO jou of tl elr to call Mr. Markheim, ! 1 desire ceumsta e and became rapt it } us to come sooner, rder t t ( ption of it } might herself assist ‘ You must have seen it in Vi lecting the plans and furnish f ne Good heaver incident to the remodeling of t a é eer phe ) W to be her home iphs ¢ u not imagine ] reluctant to ¢ the he thing itself. I Of a good ae if ef ) for the re re e « e or he le] outh wall of m: f er’s ranches, and he Ipanc) It w nang all al vere esetinorderthe! TY t wall ’s only a small 7 h had been pract ‘ 1} ~ >I} ‘ } 1d H rge for ear i f ( r ect, desig? ome e gave excuse for the t ‘ » please 1, Al j erself. R t \ ; Mr. Pegg, t ete ! ‘ f 1 1ddenly from the bow] ed herse eu ‘ VW | ¢ +? Wi vee he would 1 ' \ 1 ie t ? e rea ind whe the t k ) ‘ ere ! id | ‘ ‘ Vf ie e pron : ep , . ft, a e of A ws O ae | vetting to n ise : } I eemed to he ‘ e of elf j its | 7 Yes, father, | Alicia. Ther ff A} ‘ | ’s face broke int 1 sort of There Suddenty and Soundtessty a Form Was Towering Vaguely Before Us, its White Face t last we ere h ed SI f ne eld out ! Luminous ir a Shaft of Uncanny Light ] te ft Lt ; f t One . . LU D, Well, I'll be damned!” hesaid. ‘1 Phat if ) | ff 7 ! Ve I ng out a friend of he ! ! ‘ , P f ad t W AY t m 1 n 1 ‘ ! ‘ 1 ire ‘ t f ! ‘ ‘ . ‘ | | f ra \\ I vy rude! iid A ence it ’ | Are 1 ) mé And u I ild see in a flash wl } ( 1 } e! ) tanding there like i ( mple, hone generou f h Phe ¢ ‘ mie i ( f mv! People get married all the time nearly drove me wild, while the t it, f | t fl ‘ ! there’s nothing unusual about it, you poor ad to stand there grinning 1 patting rou ‘ e | ‘ t , ! Come on, congratulate us!”’ her on the shoulder, and sa how I y from t camp e 4 I sat there, huddled uy Well, of course, I recovered myself a ! t all ! unite { r " whody, M eyy, t ( e tot \ f t) e, I ne cnee ae ' j , her iH] nd he found herself the th the frost and sear r the for Continued on Page 7

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST August 7,1920 es oC Our SERVICE STATIONS 4 Hen's Aurnishings Cover the Map ! WHENEVER you pack a grip, men—wherever you travel—you'll find Wilson Bro’s furnishings on sale. Every dot on this map rep- resents a town with one or more of our dealers. Progressive, obliging fellows, in up-to-date men’s-wear shops! We're | i cooperated for many years in our policy of guaranteed satisfaction. woud of these thousands of reliable merchants, who have Stop at our nearest dealer’s—let him demonstrate how your money eae goes farther in Wilson Bro’s furnishings because of our great volume Chain K and complete lines under one overhead. can standardize on, We spec MEN'S Tell him if anything bearing our name has not given perfect satis- faction—he’s as ready as we to see that you get full value. * Y é Established 1864— Complete Furnishers of Men HICAGO BOSTON DALLAS DETROIT LOUISVILLE ST. LOUIS NEW YORK PARIS

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(Continued from Page 75) clarity of vision was doubtless due to the | subconscious iniiuence of my impending

departure. At any rate the plac e, which I had grown so accustomed to that I beheld it only with the blindne seemed wilderness that it arrival. For in the northern part of California there is little of the induced luxuriance of

of familiarity, once more the mpossibly crude appeared to be upon my

ee

¢ y} the South. There is something of the } Eastern farmer's fight with the elements j and a Nature that is not always overly kind or utterly dependable, and our garden was hel not a thing of lovel lawt dense shrub tL) and misty glades, Far from it. Our flower t beds were as pract I] orchards, standing deep their wonderful blossor so religiously provided was none of the trimne estate about our more than practical, en- terprising organizatio Rather it bore the general aspect of Boston Common after an August holiday. It was, in plain truth, shockingly untidy, and I was horrified to realize that ever I, who had been so fully reared by the immaculate Euphemia had made only the n t feeble sort of « totidy up. I had been unable tosee the mol hills for the mountains, as one might say. But now, with the thought of the con- centrated, condensed East before me, I perce ved the unevenne of our pat , the forgotten bundle of old papers out ide the storehouse, the broken gate which everyone cursed at it forgot to mend; and the olive and orange clad hills beyond grew dim ir my mind eye even as they formed but indistinguishable black patches in the cloud changing moonlight A deep longing for my own kind of living swept over me, and I even went so far to experience a desire for Eupher pre f t ro on Chest nut Street 1 the me ed ta nen the eareful | e things of life grown dear through vears<« f painstal gly careful usage Moved } t! overw! ming t was on the verge of 1 r that d gracefu l j belonged, thu nee mpulse dy t upt ! vv } 1a et he e aware thy head had been opene one— Peaches, hout crying sof M ! mpuise W her wit what comf offering, but ha rf I could not do Since of her betrot lto M prung up bet far her intimate fe w wee | er he seemed to ewe steht to herself curiously, l I « ibt that e realized it a enly as did I And then } ny f ed to spe | immedi- itely I found myself n awkward pre dicament. Should I move or not? I had no desire to € ‘ rop for the confidence he withheld, and yet I felt it my bounder her chaperor 1 guardian and older woman gener to know all about her by one means or other, for her own vod, and not out of mere female curiosity. And so wing n ense of responsibility to conquer n e] I kept very still, 1 before ] en ‘ ew rewarded. ‘A clean sweep!” wl ered Peaches at her window. ‘“‘No use ng myself. I'll make the break clear It’s the only thing to do!” There was a shor lence punctuate ( by a few sniff then an objec ew throug! the ove m\ head nded the 1 I h. The iow above v ! i ip W eve ritu e fF ( tw over. t the fi me fn duty as her tectre No sooner had I made sure that she was t going to change er mind and come own after it than I crept stealthily to the iter’s edge, having refully noted the ery spot where the object fell, and kneel- g on the concrete | ’s brim, greatly the detriment of that portion of my tomy which bore the weight, being clad nly for private life, I fished determinedly for the best part of half an hour, my sleeves olled up but not escaping the effects of my r, and my curlers getting earnest ende:

tl oroug! ly soaked. Fortunately Peaches’ aim, usually so accurate and far reaching in the pursuit of the national sport of baseball, or any other

emergency such as a high-hung apple, had fallen a little short this time, her secret having hit the shallow end of the pond And so it was that only after a very con siderable period of effort did I retrieve the object, and retreated with it to the seclu- sion of my room. Once there I lit the lamp, drew the cur- tains, locked the door and proceede d with my duty still further. It was a terribly moist little bundle, done up in a silk hand- kerchief and weighted with the bronze paperweight I had given Peaches for Christ mas. But I was too much interested to mind this slight. For inside the bundle were two letters, already a mere pulpy mass from the soaking they had sustained, : brittle something which might once have been a rose, and the duke’s wallet! The last was still intact, but before examining it I made a little fire on the hearth, and by diligent coaxing managed to consume the remnants of the other nirs. They were no one’s affair except that of the lovers and no other eyes hould be hold them unbidden. And when they were quite concealed in the ashes of the firep! we I returned to the light and examined the wallet carefully. It seemed to me that there s mply must be more to the matter appeared. In any of those book which had so deep an influence upon my | e discoverer of such a wal- }

souve

early thinking tl let would have surprised a jewel of value, secret documents popularly referred to a

the papers, or a marriage certificate which cleared the honor of the hero’s mother, or something equally vital. And I must con- fess that I, in opening my find, rather anticipated some such discovery, but my expectations were doomed to disappoint ment, for it was in very truth what Peach had suygested—a mileage ticket of some sort made out in Sandro’s name! I will say that this end of my exciting evening was a trifle flat, but as my) dear father used to say , our ¢ hief ple asure lies ir anticipation and no disappointment in the t of that. So I mply decided to put the thing carefully away the bottom of my reticule in case it wa ever needed. What with the war and all, \ who is going to turn up hero; and just think Rupert Brooke,

event can chea us

what souvenirs of for example, are wort! to-day, not to mention Napoleon and Ger eral Grant, and so forth, whose hero value has, of course, been augmented with time. Well, at any rate, that was all there wa to it at the time. I slept the leep of d it well done, because I was determined to take care of Peaches ir spite of herself, and g rose refreshed, to make to San Francisco, where we Pe a4 and turn our face

t xt morr the early trair were to join Mr eastward, The house which Markheim had remodeled for his bride-to-be wa already a sumptuous structure worthy of the famous collection of art treasures which it housed, and his been bent rather ir

in altering it had lirection of improv

ing its livableness and making it a cheerier spot to which to bring a young wife. The object of our visit was that Ps he giver the opportunity of making it completely to

her liking in advance of her posse on of it and incidentally to make the acquaintance of her future neighbors. He had planned a large house part as the mear of introducing } fiancee to ocial world, and she intended to pro- cure her trousseau in New York during avey intervals of the gayety. Mr. Pegg was er

chanted at the prospect thus opened up } and I was myself much elated ught of experiencing some re | nee more, for Abby’s hospitalit Italy, so lavish and yet in sucl ricted youth had ‘ven Peaches was gay, th ugh ? as of yore, but rather with a mature ly gayety, and her manner toward me had become positive ly mother! “There now, Free!”’ she soothed me one day when I had expressed a mild concert about her state of mind. ‘‘There now, Free, don’t you worry about me! We all have to grow up sometime, don’t we? Can't stay young plants forever—especiall we women. Comes a time when plants have to be grafted to old stock so a to be ready for bearing—eh? Well, that’s me, old thing!” I was shocked at her indelicacy. “If that is how you regard your forth- coming nuptials,”’ I said stiffly, “you ought to dissolve your betrothal. One should marry or ly for love— for love alone!” state young THE SATURDAY EVENING POST

ilit. NEW ih Wow m4 Ori 1 fe ANAL lu ” Wh fake The PI One le (oar 9044—Al the Be 1 One Litth Girl ( } i 1) STARR PI KICHMONI Us! cM ANQO ¢ »), INDIA? OMPAN Y

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78 0) the d Peache Chat’ : it it. I’m very fond of \] Vl f i ind ‘ the id e him!” I prote ted i eT ich as I an Ke to ‘ ‘ led Peache like a I ‘ rstate and seriou And ‘ f he half a head shorter than I am 1 heart and he i gentleman.’ \ {1 not over t years old!” I re- ed. “Oh, Peaches, do you really want en] he wa eriou The defen- y bantering light went out of her f) ingeful eve Do t, Free!" she pleaded. “‘ Yes, I do tto. I want to be a reasonable being to make the be fe I can for myself since lt t go on living. I don’t want to bea ard I an oung and I haven't een much of ne world tiches, art easure cultured people, and things il positio there must be joy in these truggle for them vuld not ' And nee the must be filling up the emptine in a whole lot of lives I'm going a eat it them too. Don't be afraid me I know just what I am doing. I y that I shall never care again. But } i in like And I can live, and I'm going t 1 beau to help me get the most y ol it of life that I can when } when —well, 1 know, only don’t say it, please!” he was wonderful. So big and beautiful ind full of health and common sense. I ild not but admire her, though, of course, i few maidenly tears and vow of lifelong fidelity to the heroic dead would have been more jitabie But thing had already yone too far for that At the time the ibove-recorded conversation took place we were standing upon the steps of the Ritz in New York, waiting for the car which was to us up the river Mr. Markheim had not expected us for another week and o hadn't been at the hotel to meet us, but was sending his chauffeur And in a way Peaches’ me After all, one must oneself to fate, and if one had the good ense to take fate by the horn and, as aches would say, “ beat him to it’’—why, o much the better We could all settle h her live happily enough ever words reassured eventually resign down to wat ifter if her program worked out. But would it? Despite her assurance I felt a faint misgiving. My dear father used always to say ‘Never you girls marry until Mister Right comes along.”” And we were brought up to honor and obey our parent with the result that at the respec- iges of fifty and sixty we girls were still nyle Hlowever, I digre In my youth, following the precepts of my father and seeking knowledge of the medium of literature, I ilady of rank whose for me the yreate rascina- world through the upor the work f writings had tion As to what her actual 1 cume ime Wis I t ained i and her title, The Duche ill that | identify lady, while he recounting of sear have to this day iynorance, her by estimable omew hat yiver ithe misfortunes peculiar had a wealth of «de the lnlou episodes at to int maider wher he ocent iptive powel undertoot felineation of rict ons or the interiors of castles of the le modest variet\ Rut nothi her could begin to imptuousne of Mr g ever compare with the Markheim’'s estab | had been prepared for mething very fine, but this gorgeous replica of a famous Itahan villa built upon terraces, it lovely v white facades rising in a symmetrical group one above the other, the whole ne: nto the budding verdure of the hill le ts formal gardens descending step by tep almost to the broad sweep of the Hudson below, w iveritable dream palace And the terior! Words almost fail me v he | om to escribe it Perhap thie most fit gy thing I can say of it is that it vas a home good ¢ ugh for Peaches Hler yreat height, her ¢ l-and-marble beauty, ere found at last a fitting habitat And then when | saw that little, comparatively peak vy, Markheim man trotting about in nt of her and x yg her the place witha yestur i he displayed each treasure in turn, | felt sick and faint in my mind. And yet he was nice and had never given me the least iuse to eriticize him, and cer- tainly the | e was enough to tempt any girl. I sighed, however, to think of the day wher he would be marned and living tive ‘ THE SATURDAY ‘Mr. Markheim—Sebastian, I mean,” I said Mr Pegg and I followed in the wake of the happy couple as they made the tour of the house —‘“‘ Sebastian, this place looks as if you had dug up the rich heart of Italy and transplanted it to America!” ‘You have the right idea, Miss Freedom! The right idea—yes!” he exclaimed with pride. ‘‘More than half my collection is Italian—and if I do so say myself, it has taken a lot of patience and trouble to gather it—not to speak of the cost in money They have a strict law against taking ob- jects of art out of their country, you know, and it’s been nip and tuck getting hold of a lot of this stuff—smuggled of course. Oh, don’t look so shocked! It’s an If it’s genuine it’s muggled—at the Italian end. But doesn't call attention to the fact except in the privacy of one’s own family!” “It sure is swell!’ said Mr. Pegg Sebastian laughed again—a sound which never got him favor with me—and opened the door into the newest addition to the house—the library wing, which he had re- modeled for the ¢ sper ial purpose of hous ing the Madonna of the Lamp When I entered I could not refrain from an exclamation of delight, nor can I fo to describe the place in some detail : begin with, it was almost round and ve large, the being domed and t books being carried in long narrow stack sunk into the paneling between the French open secre t more or less one ceilir 4 windows as high as the carved molding Above this an exquisite tone of blue with a few cleverly distributed stars gave a ense of infinite space, and despite the cumbersome old Florentine furniture the room was neither heavy nor dull. There was just enough gold to furnish flashes of and the warm old amber brocade or the chairs seemed to catch and hold the sunlight which poured through the long narrow windows at the west, all of which opened direc tly upon the first terrace of the garden But the real triumph in lighting was the rose window of plain leaded north side of the room —the had tructed to accommodate it in order that the madonna might be properly illuminated by day. We gasped our admiration of its perfect lacery and then turned about and faced the picture itself in reverent Of course it is ridiculous to suppose there is anyone able toread to whom the Madonna of the Lamp is not perfectly familiar, being, light, rose glass on the wall of which been recor ilence is if is, one of those paintings which are impressed upon the popular mind in spite of itself through endless repetition upon postal and Christmas cards, engravers’ wit dows, magazine covers and Sunday prizes, to say nothing of Little Collection of Great Master gift photographs, fur nishing for college rooms and appeals for public charitie Nevertheless, I will describe it, as my dear father used to say, the collective mind of the public is not the public mind f lex It has to be told, in other . when it can't be shown: whereas, of tell a collector nothing ] school because, course you can him to admit it Well, at any 1 case you do not re eall it, the Madonna of the Lamp is a round \ than two and a half feet rate, canvas, not more in diameter, and represents the Virgin wit! the Child eur i robe of ippl re blue whicl her head in thicl es her knee in such ippearance of being weeping f i way as to ¢ blown from behind by a wind and aiding in the cireular effect She is seated and bending over the Infant, protecting both him and the flickering lamp from the wind Above her head 1 i ingle star visible through a patch of leaded window Now you recall it, [| am sure. It way painted in Florence by Raphael about the 1506 and is one of the most famous monuments to his geniu And Markheim had made a most derful this jewel. The great window was of a cde wn copied from that behind the Virgin’s head, and the earved panel upon which the painting hung was a skillful variation of the beautiful old carved frame about the canva the original frame, ind the motif of the design was carried out in a molding which diminished into a faint relief at the outer edges of the large wall space above the mantel where it hung Nor was the picture hung too high. Even I could have touched the bottom of the carvings, and the mantelpiece had no other ornament except polychrome candle- icks of | year won- setting for it was believed to be, bas two gigantic the same period. Truly it was a EVENING POST wonderfully successful arrangement and reflected great credit on the owner who had conceived it ‘Do you like it?”’ was all he said, looking the madonna but at Alicia. ‘Do you like it, eh?” Mr. Pegg took the question to himself. ““And you paid five hundred thousand dollars for that little picture?’”’ he asked incredulously. ‘“‘Why, from the price I expected something as big as a barn door!” ‘“*Pa it’s a diamond without a flaw,” said Peaches, going closer, her face alight with pleasure. “It’s a real mother and child,” she added. ‘‘ How big would you want be? They immortal —isn’t that big enough?” Through the simplicity of her rebuke I got one of those rare glimpses of her golden heart Her crude parent, pressed “Of course it’s real said ‘“*Which is more than can be said for most antiques But five hundred thousand! My Lord, look at the profit!) There can’t be over ten dollars’ worth of paint in it! Where is this feller, Raphael?” “Where the profit is doing him preciou little good,”” chuckled Sebastian **Must be hell!’’ commented Pinto “Very possibly, in spite of his choice of subjects!”’ replied Markheim Whereat he and I exchanged glance of thoroughly sympathetic standing I, of course, at eyes, a burning sense of st implied disloyalty struggling with my desire to spare Mr. Pegg the mort instruction. I had not forgotten and shall forget how gently the error of my ways when I fir ranch a for example, when I unknow ingly made culls of his best tree of home fruit and he urged me marmalade of them and never told me until afterward that the way I had picked them by pulling them off the tree instead of not at don't be a hoob them to are however, was unim- pretty,” he our first under lowered my ime at my onee ification of he led me to see st hit the never to make clipping the t stem made it impossible to use them for inything else. So now in my own realm I wished to lead him gradually into the llow him to learn by whenever possible. ; Well, the rest of the house was beautiful 1 after we had fini | had tea ina specting it we room filled with gay cretonnes anc ing plants, wicker chairs and caged cana ries. Two menservants served the refectior Mr. Sebastian Markhe mhadaco iderable i“ ehold, that was plain, and I began to t that I had steadf ih tood with on refusing her father’s suggestior Peache of a persor il maid “There's something too public about it,” had been her objection, which I had sus tained But here amid all these servitors I felt differently Not that I attached to our maidle saw any indignity condition, being, as I was, a self-supporting female well able to afford one if I desired such a thing. I could now instead of a I ought, if you under But I knew Peaches would have i ! live is | chose tand me that to get a e attendant after she was married. Marl heim was not the man to allow his wife to live in comfort when he could provide her with luxur And at this juncture of my ilfway through my I toppel | iwared tea biscuit, a thought terrible realization time Peaches wa would no Who then would nee 1 me Euphemia overwhelming me for the first Wher ynger need me Nobody? Not wered my letters, hed the married she who never ar 1¢ always mutely 1 checks And would though inclose cu there be any checks to send her? Where would they come from? It was a chilling thought, as will readily be admitted. Why I had not thought o! it sooner I cannot say It must have been evident from the moment of Peaches’ er yagement that when the affair reached its consummation I would be, to put it vulgarly, out of a job Of course I did not so greatly care for hut there was Euphemia, the de whose tradition of not be disturbed in myself, pendent, to consider, useless gentility must her declining years. True, I had saved a very considerable portion of my salary and had almost twenty thousand dollars dis- tributed among six savings banks. That might conceivably tide us over for the re- mainder of our lives. But I had acquired the habit of remunerative occupation and companionship with dear friends; also a taste for French and facial massage whenever practical And the thoug! t of the Chestnut Street house was, close heels August 7,1920 the more shame upon me for saying it of my father’s home, almost intolerable. And Mr. Pegg—dear Pinto! How I should miss him—in a purely friendly way of course. Fully realizing for the first time the bit- terness of my situation I refused a second sugared bun and rising remarked that as Sebastian expected dinner guests we had best retire and obtain a little rest before it was time to dress. Of course my intention was in part to leave the lovers together for a properly brief interval, but somewhat to my surprise Peaches rose also and said she would ac- company me. My heart was heavy, and for once I would have preferred to be alone. Sut she slipped her arm about my neck, and we started for our rooms, chatting amiably while the men settled down for a cigar. Now one of the peculiarities of the Mark- heim palace was that it gave no appearance of modernity. Though it was, in point of fact, less than ten years built, it was so ingly designed, so convincingly ar- ranged, with such perfection of detail that it possessed an air of old mystery difficult to define, and under ordinary circumstances fascinating —a real achievement on the part of architect and decorator alike. The ancient furniture stood so easily in the background provided for it that one could have sworn the walls had been made before it; the modern lighting was so well handled absolutely unobtrusive. affectionately, we the main hall, pausing to look at the chased armor on the two silent figures at the foot of the beautiful winding stairs. A Gobelin tapestry fluttered faintly on the wall above us, stirred by the gentle sunset wind from the spring cented below, and the lingering twilight filled the great hall with shadows. There was not an- other soul in sight and not a sound to be heard except the murmur of the men’s talk and the voice of a ple isure boat distantly upon the water. I accompanied Alicia up the stairs, feeling as if 1 were ir some enchanted palace of medieval days, and above, the long dim corridor in which the lamps had not yet been lit was ghostly in the pale glimmer from its high mullioned window ‘Isn't low tone “Yes!"’ IT replied, whispering involun- “One might almost expect to re hd eunr most to be ‘ rossed river mvsterious distant Peaches it t spooky?” said a see I spoken the words who was And searcely had wher Peaches, the supernormal, a trifle ahead of me by now, uttered a shrie ind leaned trembling against the stone wall of the passageway. But for a moment [ could not come to her aid. My limbs seemed frozen, paralyzed. For there suddenly and soundlessly a form was tower- ing vaguely before us, its white face lumi- nous in a shaft of uneanny light. It was the Duke di Monteventi! xT fi bee one horrible endless moment the 4 figure moved slightly and the corridor was flooded with the soft mellow light from half a dozen electric sconces. With a half-choked ery of “Sandy!” upon her lips Peaches moved toward him, only to stop short, her face going completely blank. The man was a servant, a valet presumably, carrying a folded suit of cloth- ing carefully over one arm and wearing soft felt shoes, which had been the secret of his noiseless approach. His hair was thickly gray and his face was lined and scarred He looked perhaps ten years older than Sandro-+and yet the likeness was there—unmistakable, though in the full light not by any means so perfect. ‘I beg pardon, ladies,” he said in a measured voice, withdrawing another step “The lights should have been on.”’ Then with a little bow he passed noise- lessly down the corridor and entered one of the bedrooms, presumably that occupied by Markheim himself. Peaches made a little involuntary ges- ture as if to follow him, stretching out her hands toward his unconscious back, and then, as the door closed upon him, turned to me, her amber eyes afire. She seized me by the wrist in a manner positively painful and dragged me into her room, where she caused me to sit down abruptly and with- out personal selection upon a sort of has- sock, the while she towered over me, fairly glowing with animation—far, far more like her old self than she had been at any time for almost six years. Continued on Page 8!

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over. Experienced operators find that [4] without it they cannot secure full power Three sets of steam engines lubricated with Gargoyle d up after 4 and full production. Cylinder Oil 600-W were recently opene ; Pe ls years of operation. They were found in perfect , me t t | Many efforts have been made to imitate 9 ‘ hab m4 ee fs 3 . : condition, the piston rings free in their grooves and a+ a Oil \ rig . Gargoyle Cylinder 6 even to ; its name. But never with success. That aE | [5] | GARGOYLE ee Oe ee ee ae BEARING OILS Gargoyle trade mark when buying any oil sore described as “‘600-W.” The chief characteristic of Gargoyle

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SATURDAY EVENING POST August 7.1920 — in

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Pe Continued from Page 78 ‘Free!"’ she said art it? Was it? Oh, Free—say somethi “It couldn’t have been!” Ire plied shakily. “And yet the resemblance—it was ex- traordinary!”’ “It was a miracle!”’ said Peaches. ‘‘No two peop le coul 1 look so much alike.” ‘He had a brother,”’ I began doubtfully, ‘who was merely supposed to be dead. Sandro would have known you at once.” ‘But didn’t he?” she questioned, strid- ing up and down the room with her long, clean gesture of body. “Why didn’t he speak at once? He was too much amazed!” “Nonsense!” I exclaimed. ‘‘ How could he be azed when servant in this house—in all probability Sebastian’s valet he must have kr own in advance all about your comit g here!”’ ““That’s so,” said Peaches. ‘“‘And, of course, there are differences the grayness, the lines in his face. But something may have } lappene d to } im. a “Very likely!” I plied dryly. we sidering we have aul from Cousin Abby that he was killed in action.” ‘But that may have been a mistake, tranger things have “_ if he e ry- as she whispered. ‘'S pened And a servant! No—even i had gone quite mad and forgotten ev thing that would hardly be possible.” “Servant or not, if it is he, why on earth should n't he recognize you?”’ I demanded. ‘That's the sort of encounter which is supposed to bring people to th senses, idn’t he recognize me?” she re- plied with a doubt willfully sustained. ‘Just for an instant, | wassosure! Well?” “What are we going to do about er = aid. “If by any chance it re ally i is Sandro it’s a nice situation, I'm sure! With your ew weeks off and, and why, goo 1 gracious! It's simply terrible!” didn’t look as if she thought not in the least e was terrifically excited, but more beau- Free!" she cried. “I know Do you suppose I could feel a& I « it i do, at the encounter unless pear of times people know things without vidence And this is one of those times. I fool it is ‘he. I don’t care how differently he looked when the lights went up = “But how on earth are you going to find out?” I urged. “Surely, Peaches, he can- not have forgotte n \ out” ‘Forgotten!”’ she exclaimed, stopping short in her pacing of the floor. ‘‘ Forgot- ten! Good heavens, Free, you don’t suppose that is it, do you?’ “Of course I don’t!" I snapped, even though I was not entirely sure but that a y » was capable of taking French leave in the way that Sandro had ix vears previously, was not capable of ar ythi g, including having ar atuine decarur with Peaches and ther failing to recollect the incident. Some men are that way; I y of The Duchess. oc "I went on. ‘“‘And have it on the at “This man is ol we don’t know for hat his position i th best thing for you to do is to question Sebastian about him.” ‘Won't he thir t strange if I let him on to the fact that I'm stuck on his valet? e household 1 t e frank way. you must do nothing of pose . “* Besides, you ire, as you vulgar] You cals thi cit may 1 keep that in mind, omething darn funny ab shooting match!” said Peaches vigorously. ‘“‘And I’m going to the bottom of it might With which she flung from the room to don one of her majestic evening gowns, ng me in great distress of mind for fear at she would do next. To array myself » evening's festivities and to descend to them in a becomingly dignified manner was no easy task, but by the greatest effort at elf-control I accomplished both the arrangement of my toilet and the adjust- ment of my manner sufficiently to reappear in polite society in the state of composure y pror to!’’ due to my name ar 1 heritage and the re- por sible posi ition which I oceupied toward the Pege family. It is one of the penalties of a great name that one must ever main- tain the a pect of a pal ted ancestor, no matter what tumult may be going on within one. And though I admit that I was in a profoundly disturbed state of mind, and indeed, I may say, shaken to the very THE SATURDAY EVENING POST occurred and still more by what might occur, I believe that my conduct and appearance as I stood smiling beside the unconscious Mr. Mi — ‘im, aiding him in the reception casiaeel by my roe father. ‘He expected to leave |} relished the sense of standing upon a species of social voleano. When Peaches appeared on the, as I may call it, haunted stairway, a gasp of delighted interested in the f , or what is the idea .”’ lied Peaches calmly to thinking about servants about the personal-ser She was arrayed gown of golden sequins that rivaled but surpass the glory of her hair, and though she was without jewels except for her ring, she shone with a radiance such as vant idea in particu- It’s an embarrassing me fee] like a boob to have : hair lay close and glistening upon her head like a helmet of burnished metal, and this i martial though décol- leté costume gave her somewhat the appear- a Chinaman could r his front or hind name?’ } “And you are too amusi: redeeming touch of bli any rate she was mag- quite conceivable And if a trifle —_ it was from - intense wave of new i i flooded her during I “~ them good night this, as I was very tired. The enormous main lighted and I crossed it not without hesi tancy, and when, at the foot of the staircase the past few hours, and were like those of that hall was but dimly Well, I will not digress by describing the feast which Sebastian gave as a housewarm- , but was so frightened that accomplished a squeak. no supernatural apparition, who had overtaken me, Suffice to say that it was a very attended by a more or less cosmopolitan crowd, comprising friends neighbors alike, and affording, say, a reasonable amount of enjoyment to sumptuous affair, and who dragged door behind us in breathless triumph ‘Did you hear him!’ circumstances I should have enjoyed it myself, being, as I am, pos- [pee as soon as he |} le then being caught But upon this occasion : I was so taken up with being on the outlook for a glimpse of that i among the other servants that I s in performing the mechanics of a i But a I was of your engagement was more or less ineneate, unexpected arrival, went off very well, and and down like asubstantial sunbeam whom I was automatically pee king. way to settle the question. a private talk with that man.” the last guest had deoented were assembled in the ae for a good-night discussion, i he or trap, ifs so I may call it, for the indore - She became suddenly do- iieritensie over a glass of milk and vichy and I watched keenly as she led up to her subject with a deceitful air of in- nocence of which I would not have believed Markheim was in the seventh heaven at her interest, and dear Mr stood under the madonna chewing on a big cigar and nodding his approval ‘It was a wonderful dinner, Sebastian!” 1id Peaches, her big eyes limpid pool him secretly in the garder with enthusiasm. him up, and you will see that 1 at midnight to-morrow “There are an awful bur ch aches commented. keeping house with then I do I'm going to teach her pinoct replied Markheim , one le ooge indling the preposterou this astonishing announce may well berieve that a sensatior vely started out of to turn into a species of inane giggle, tering over her milk. what do you mean by the clock poir ted to a quarter after twel nowadays, I assure you, my dear. been absolute perfection ey ‘hy do you let him go?” would like to hypnotize him into telli more than she asked. more wages or something’ “Tt’s not a question of money my personal opinior and that th is — creat regular misogynist. SI to consider his being resurrected as a possi bilitv. But if it were Sandro, why on earth should he, who had the entrée to every fashionable house in Europe, reappear in the capacity of a servant? Perchance it was not Sandro, but his supposedly murdered elder brother. That would, of course, account for the resem blance. This idea struck me as wg re- markably intelligent, and I at » began to search my mind for its * ol begin nings. My dear father used to say that all ideas had literary ginnings contained a literary idea But neither Deadwood Dick, Edwin Arnold, Walter Pater or The Duchess seemed to have supplied me with the thought, strive as I would to place it among them. And I is forced to claim it as original, and perhaps merely the theme for a story's | ePryinning And despite my dea r father’ precept, I do verily believe that iam at times productive of ideas quite my own, as, for example, in the realm of love, wherein my manifold ideas must have no other ori; than my own brain, inasmuch as the only books on beginnings and all be the subject which we possessed rf home were written by a Frenchman named Balzac, and though ostensibly in English translation they were mostly set forth in asterisks, dots and dashes. But I digress. Let us return to the pri vacy of my chamber at the villa, and the note to Wilkes, which somehow must be disposed of My first inclination was to procure a two- cent stamp and mail it——an obvious solu tion. And yet I hesitated, because if by chance it should misearry and fall into the wrong hands, what dreadful consequence might not ensue? What a, as one might say, roughhouse might it not—er—precipi tate! No, mailing would not do, ~ 1use at best I might be unable to find a mail box or post office before late the next dav. and I would certainly be unwilling to offer a 1ote so addressed to one of the other household servants. Furthermore, I was hampered by a r he house Doub mail box somewhere iirs, if only I knew uchan hour. Finally, half tempted to burn and forbore only be to Alicia. My brain at room with its wide ght hangings seemed ossed to the window, the light l! order not e night insects, opened it and t, the better to meditate upon my course of action. I was half de termined to take the whole matter to Pinto Pegg in the morning and allow him to settle our minds for us, even against Alicia’s will But as I re ed upon the open window ] the on of my own somewhat hz ! girlhood rose before me like a reproachful ghost d I had no heart to stifle the sequel to tl it romance which I had een bud, unfold and | ymin the tropic air at Sar Remo. Holding the letter in my lap it seemed to burn through the heavy silk of my gown, such was the fire which had pired its writing. No matter what migt come what d lusionment, what disap pointment —it should be delivered. I vowed that Reng ay no fault of mine hould Pea ve cheated of her love i I felt mise if t » be an excellent judg f ] id looked on at a good deal of it. 1 ed, i l at there it cree ‘ re j to! it | ! i omplished a great lot of looking o the course of my life And f had tl commentary « sessed my m ie quite in line with my usual fortune, I l myself once more an observer, thous observed I think I have remarked Mr. M heim’s v 1 was | f thus permitting ev to overlo those ‘ another portior I there were severa ‘ place ») arrang | i were ‘ ) ait l ea ince W ( i if ind ‘ I the 1 hod ' yas al ef f ‘ wing, and the t i quar ‘ P YX re ‘ | ‘ i ‘ ter ened ‘

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82 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST August 7,1920 but the wide row of windows must be, I he was a clean, bronzed sort of man, and gi, decided, the rooms of the upper servants. in truth it would prove utter frustration — Ai Once possessed of this thought I began for me if he should be in the habit of sleep- “aap Taira Qe to visualize the interior plan of the house, ing with it closed. Vie e/a y, particularly that of the corridor which It was with something of the emotion y would lead to those rooms. By a little which I fancy that a participant in a motion-picture drama must experience that All-Round figuring I came to the realization that they were in reality on the same level as my own chamber, though actually on the story above—that is to say, the third story while I was on the second. To reach them from within the house meant the ascent of one flight of stairs, whereas if one were to get out onto the little balcony below me and cross the roof of the porte-cochére, one would bring up on a ledge running level with the third story of the opposite wing; a by no means perilous journey unless one were to be observed from the garden below, which was not likely at night, modesty being the only thing subjected to any serious danger. While I was meditating upon this archi- tectural curiosity a light appeared in one of those third-story windows, and against it stood the figure of a man. It was Wilkes—or Sandro, as Peaches insisted upon calling him. I could see him very plainly, as indeed the whole of the rather small simple room was perfectly visible and he stood directly under the electric light. At this distance his resemblance to the lost duke was certainly remarkable. He was alone in the room, which was evidently his bedroom, and had plainly just finished with Markheim, for he carried the light gray uit which Sebastian had worn that after- noon, and several pairs of boots. Fired by a thought which offered to solve my problem I counted the windows be- tween me and that before which he stood. They were fifteen; his was the sixteenth along the ledge. To walk the distance along the balcony, over the intervening roof of the porte-cochére, was no task at all to one who had been living a life in the open for six years, and there was very little danger of my being observed since none of the windows which I should be obliged to pass those of bedrooms—except in the sery wing. I would wait until the light was extinguished and then play my were ant “i art. The interval between my resolution and I, not without some difficulty in climbing the intervening railings, approached my goal, silently as the—er—wings of night, as one might say, feeling my way along the wall and taking careful count of the win- dows as I went, the garden a still pool of blackness below me, in which the few scat- tered stars of the overcast sky found no reflection. It was really very dark for such an enterprise, and though the fact was un- doubtedly of advantage in one way it mad¢ my progress uncomfortably slow, the mor so as I had now no lighted window to guide me, and was compelled to advance by the sense of touch alone. I passed the roof of the porte-cochéré with success, climbed to the ledge lead ing outside of the servants’ wing, the letter safe within my bosom. There I begar again my feeling of the window sills, thi time with the added wish for clinging to them for support as well as for their enu- meration, for this was the most perilou portion of my undertaking, there being only a gutter along the ledge, and no railing of any sort. And after an interminable period I reached my goal—the sixteenth window It was open! With infinite caution I slid past the shutter, holding my breath lest I be heard, and flattening myself against the wall I ex tracted the letter from its hiding place and peered round the side of the aperture, doubt ful how best to dispose of it soundlessly. The casement was not only open, but open to its widest capacity. And while I was rapidly considering whether I should simply lay the letter on the sill, trusting that the wind would not blow it away, or if I should drop it inside, risking some sound that might waken the sleeper, the slid from under a cloud, and on the instant the whole interior became visible to me. It was empty! The bed had not even been disturbed, and the door was closed. As well as I could see in the dim light the only clothing lying moon about was that which the man had brought from his master’s room, and this was neatly the moment for its execution was but brief. In a surprisingly short time the light in Satisfaction “MAKES LIFE'S WALK EASY” dress about me with little regard for the dictates of modesty, I stepped forth from my window and began my journey. am aware that this performance of mine would not have been looked upon with favor by Euphemia, nor yet by the mem- bers of our home-mission sewing circle, yet my conscience was clear, and I had ever been somewhat at a loss to confine my be- havior strictly within the limits of the society in which I had been reared. And furthermore, there was but little chance that the sewing circle or indeed my sister would ever learn of the incident, and, as my dear father used to say, there are more Lorelei in the social sea than ever come out of it. I infer that he intended some refer- ence to social shipwrecks. And had my circle of acquaintances ever become aware of my behavior upon this particular occasion without clearly under- standing the motives which actuated me they would undoubtedly have wrecked my standing. In point of fact they might even have done so with the fullest understanding of my motive— the act being itself father to the ostracism, if you know what I mean, and motives are seldom if ever considered when the opportunity for passing judgment occurs. But at the moment of emerging upon the narrow ornamented balcony I was con- cerned with none of these possibilities, which occurred to me only at a later date. I was too thoroughly occupied with making a noiseless, inconspicuous progress, and with wondering whether the valet was high class enough to sleep with his window open. I trusted that he did so, and expected it, for ey . i rio« i} A\y NX the man’s room was extinguished, and then _ placed upon a chair, even as I had observed . Oe ISSETT S il | i “yy “ I had only to wait until I might reasonably him to dispose of it nearly an hour since {- A through dealers of tl tt I yo [n suppose him to be asleep—a half hour, for It was a most perplexing matter. But \ eg i {| # { vii 4 | surely, I thought, atiredservant wouldtake without waiting to consider it further I | } “" 7 | no longer. At the termination of this reached within and laid the letter upon a ] a ‘ ' \ With | period I removed my shoes and put on a chair beside the window where the occu- I t } Lys | pair of knitted bedroom slippers with felt pant could not fail to observe it upon |} fitted to the foot of the 1 t , soles—a welcome Christmas offering from return, and forthwith withdrew the upper 4 Galadia and Boston—and gathering my portion of my body. AsI did so I heard a sound which, in the language of my favorite authors, froze my blood. Someone was walking upon the gravel of the path directly beneath me. For along instant I stood as if petrified, listening intently. For a moment, nothing, and my heart relaxed a little, for the sup position occurred to me that it might have been some animal bent upon nocturnal ad- ventures. But hardly had this reassurance registered in my brain when it came agair Without doubt someone was making a stealthy progress along that side of the house upon which J stood in an unusual, not to say compromising, position. And ir another moment my fears were justified, for out of the abyss below me darted a dark and noiseless figure, followed at close range by a second one. Both crossed the moon patch like wraiths, vanishing instantly into the shadows of the shrubbery beyond. Two men! What were they about? No good, that was certain. And what, in merciful heaven’s name, was I to do about it? To give the alarm from my present posi- tion was impossible. Moreover, if I wer¢ to remain where I was the two in the shrub- bery might at any instant discover my presence upon the ledge, for the moon in illuminating the room behind me was, of course, also rendering me clearly visible To retreat to my own quarters by the route by which I had come was now obviously impossible. There remained but one course, and I took it. Without further ado | picked up my skirts and climbed into the bedchamber of my host’s bodyservant. (TO BE CONTINUED)

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a In this day of big things, what more magic words __ for many years, assumed a large share of the r b than these: ‘‘Organization,”’ ‘‘Equipment,” — sponsibilities; and its success he also attributes to ‘“*Knowing-how’’! the loyal, skillful and effective co-operation of his ; Without them is nothing great accomplished. thousands of other associates. ; ' i i With them, nothing seems impossible. E In the year 1890 the Lelands came from New | , : : . ‘ngland to Detroit, where for a number of years | Many are the stories of vast achievement in they engaged in the manufacture of the finer kinds the world mechanical; among them 1s a story not — of ‘machinery and precision tools. They were widely known, yet 2 Story whose parallel you among _ the pioneers in the making of gasoline would seek far to find. marine and automobile engines; and after eight In order to understand the possibility of that — een years, many of those engines are still in serv- whievement, let us hark back some thirty to ice—a tribute to the Leland ways of doing. forty years. Phen, Henry M. Leland was a conspicuous figure in New England’s higher craftsmanship. Some years before, he had left his boyhood home on the farm in Verm« nt, ind gone to Worcester, Ma B.s where he enya | as an apprenti He be Cann 1 We rk in if the I neh, but not for lon 9 because h on con pell ! nition as an irt I of 1 \ l non kur He show n abil ti » th to do tl ditferently 1 to tl » better th 1 they befor He became a macl ry | ~2 in unusual ‘ because he w more th. i salesman hi knew, too, how to tall ! to teach the Operating of the ma chines he sold. Manufacturers sought his counsel. They engaged him to re-organize their Le agl eh equipment and their men. —_—— He knew how to in- - 2 bcm ; crease production, not by Henry M. Leland, Wilfred C. Leland and some of their Chief Associates oppressive but by pro viewing the 6,500 Lincoln Liberty Aircraft Motor ressive methods. He Of these nine men, seven have been in continuous relation for 12 years, did two more things, five for 21 years and three for 27 years which to those who do 4 Duplicate of this Motor is now in the Smithsonian Institution at Washington, D. C., where it will not know him and _ his stand for all Time, a Monument to and an Example of the world’s finer Craftsmanship methods may seem anomalous or impossible—yet he did them: Shortly after or nt | vol\ Besides incr 1 volume, he actually reduced the world conflict, th tal for aircralt producty n costs, and at the same tin bettered forcibly mipre 1 itself upon tf Lela that | infinitely the quality of the things produced. they severed their many years’ afhliation with He had a i 1 a penchant for doing thi the motor car industry, in order that they might while other Vel iving they could not be don undertake th production of Liberty airplar His was sup ht to bring order out of | motors for the allied Jfaghting for This they chaos. lid in July, 1917. Many are the great establishments today which With absolutely nothing in the w of pl: nt ol owe the foundation of their prestige and their equipment, they 1 \ the g ments first = rT largely to the organizing, producing and award for the buil of tl mot ind faith quality-building genius of Henry M. Leland in the men a their ability was the government’ H cl ted with a multitude of ** crowning sole assurance. Bh ichie ve nt ) iu he has mad ta life pri Capital was interested, ar 1 much volunteered cy pl ilways to do things better than they had The Lincoln Motor Co. was formed. bifty-two acr de; t n don for of la l were a jul | An acd juat plant Mi His ralship it is striking] rect | pedint til \ vast amount

LINCOLN

MOTOR Organization — Equipment — Knowing-how Produce the New Leland-built Motor Car

COMPANY DETROIT, Thousands of America’s most skilled craftsmen tenderes co-operation and their | their Many of the men, particularly the executive Services were » men whom the Lelands knew and who knew them, through many years’ association; and they were j 1 anxious to enlist under the Ir bann r. Never in their lives, say the Lelands, have they seen such a vast organization get into work ing harmony with so little delay and so little friction, The efficiency of that organization can best be appre that in and. three starting with noth lated when it 1s. realized months after ing they assembled their firstmotor. Intent: thereafter, and with OOO ¢ mployee i thie Lincola Motor Co. was producing at the rate of SO motors perday. Incon trast with these Leland nie thods, the le iding Finy even adays nonths lish manufacturer, with thre years’ aircraft ex perience and 10,000 em p! yees, had re juired a Week ro produce thie quantity of motor which the | par: tron had produ ed in a single day. Within el ven m nthe from the day production oln orvan the beginning: and tho know the story otf Liberty know the rivalry that record, Th quality of Lelar built Lincoln Liberty tors has been ; tributes and in way whi h could hort bye motor building for lerstood; and, too, the | oln Motor ¢ ble to 1 ra tance of immeasurabl to tho I favorably choc le l. Assembling and harmonizing an organi <peditiou ly, for doing things in a | long them right, is, like everythir matter how difficult it may seem—a pla matter of ““knowing-how,” This is sin pl fied when the t h fa stants in thing mnie h thr hops and with = then I practically vel task a TrOUNnNUW rk to th t 1} pr Such ts the skill ition that pl | ir—the car t to f f fin ir} t MICHIGAN

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aejae Kits Inve rywhere Outdoors Picnics, motor-trips,camp- ing, canoeing — wherever the quest of nature takes you, THEROZ is the handy fuel. With THEROZ and THEROZ Sroves and Appliances you cancook anything anywhere. THEROZ is the 100°. fuel sate, simple and speedy instant heat at the scratch of a match— no odor, smoke, dirt or waste. “THEROZ is a convenience at home and necessity for outings. 1 oz. can 15¢ (Canada and West of the Rockies 20c), with holder 40c (West of Rockies 5c, Canada 55c). Buy THER FUEL and Cooking Appliances at drug, hardware, de partment store grocet or direct tr » us if your dealer can't uppit y Dealers—be prepared for The f t r I 1 Ag Phe Theroz Company Woolworth Building, New York The handy Fuel for ->~ AUGUST a> and every other Month

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST POSTWAR CONDITIONS IN WORLD FINANCE Britisher has had to pay nearly £5000 more for his $100,000 worth of good here, on top of prevalent high prices, than he would if exchange were normal]. ‘There was a point ituation when sterling was as low as $3.19, a discount of 34 per cent, o that for goods for which the American it wished to realize $100,000 the 100,000 that is £10,772 in the present merc British buyer would have to pay divided by 3.19 or £31,348; above a normal price The point of all this is, of course, that a veloped whereby European America have to pay these to prices here because dverse international economic situ- ution, not because of ar y substantial nerease in values represented by these idded prices. Naturally this tends to make foreign reduce their purchases in this country as soon as humanly possible, and to increase exports to us so as to restore trade equilibrium. That is the only level-headed business England has ng oy a sturdy de- termination to increase her e xports to us, hoth of good and of gold, and ince the low figure of $3.19 for sterling was touched the value of the English pound in the American foreign-exchange market has impressively recovered, going at one time several cents above $4, This rise has reflected both an improvement in the value of English money in England itself through the improvement of her fiscal and monetary situation and also a growth in her exports to the United States of goods, service and other invisible items of trade, as well as some substantial gold payments to this country. It has also indicated an improvement in the specula- tive sentiment regarding England in this for foreign exchange, like other marketable values, is subject to speculative Ope rations

ituation has de ers from exce ive additior nation course, country, A Blessing in Disguise I have dwelt thus long on this detail of foreign exchange in the world’s financial problem because it illustrates vividly the general truth that present-day abnormal conditions contain in themselves efficient correctives to bring about a resto- ration to normality within the present established methods of doing business. It is not the abolition of foreign exchange that is called for: nor a so-called correction of the rates that is needed; nor the substitu- tion of some other and novel method of doing international business, such as the proposed issue of an international currency designed to pass at par in all nations, It is not the exchanges that are at fault, it is and mone tary cor ditions: business underlying trade ind when those conditions are corrected the exchange ll be corrected The correctior of underlying conditior n fact, will be hastened by these adverse exe har ye rates, since, as we have seen, of the foreign exchange forces for goods depreciatior foreign merchants to pay prices in this country which over long period would be prohibitive. They, of course, pass these price along to their consumer , and this impels foreign peoples to restore their wn productivity, both to supply wants and to furnish exportable surpluses to pay their foreign bill This represents the true operation of natural economic f es and is more effective and fur damen- tally beneficial than any artificial measure uld bn their own Suppe for instance, that by some finar cial legerdemain the differential in economic and trade conditions as between different nations could be obviated and the ibove-described depreciation of the money of one country in the markets of another tail } } country prevented. Under such conditior would not add their eoples of Europe to productivity and untry in liquidation tanding against them, ind to reduce their imports from us so as to keep their del from swelling further ] e deprived of one of Thus the world would I the foreign exchange pressure upon the hasten to increase the their exports to this « of the balances now

ts natural economic correctives to mal- idjusted trade conditions Instead of nat- ural busine readjustment we should see ultimate trade demoralization, produced by e proce of the derproductive coun-

es draining the productive nations, until tor tor credit was exhausted or until increasing searcities drove prices to uch levels that trade could not go on. The (Continued from Page 15) ocial effect of this result as to prices is obvious when we consider the discontent that present prices have caused; while the burden of debt represented in the loss of credit would mean bankruptcy for some countries, Of course it is chimerical to suppose that economic inequalities between nations can be wiped out by mere financial arrange- ments, though there are those who propose an international currency which they ear- nestly believe would accomplish this end. They assume that if this currency were guaranteed by all nations it would circu- late freely at face value in payment of in- ternational commercial debts. Sut it is plainly to be seen that the course of events could not be made materially different by this device from that just de- scribed, unless, indeed, by being made worse; for while it lasted the international currency would tend to hasten and aggra- vate the course of demoralization. It would first deprive international trade of its great stabilizer, foreign exchange, and it would also add a positive burden in itself to the world’s economic troubles, for it would simply repeat on a world-wide basis the unhappy experiences of individual nations that have inflated their currencies by ill-advised paper-money issues. If dur- ing the life of the currency each country participating in the plan sent to the other countries precisely the same value of goods as it bought from them, the international currency would remain equably distributed among them, flowing at uniform depth everywhere and so would benefit no one. But this precision in the exchange of goods is impossible. Some countries, particularly under conditions existing to-day, must buy more than they sell; and it goes without question they ‘would settle these adverse balances of indebtedness with the paper money, for they have no gold available; nor if they had, would they pay with a better medium \ whe n they could use a worse. A freely circulating international cur- rency would thus make it possible for time for the weaker and underproductive nations to retain their own products for home consumption and to get what addi- tional supples they needed from stronger countries by paying their bills with this paper money instead of with an equivalent of commodities. As the supply of the cur- rency thus became greater in the stronger countries the demand for it would become less and it would suffer depreciation, just as any paper money in excess of fundamental economic requirements always suffers depre lation, The Return to Old Methods As the international currency ciated in value, and as the requirements of the weaker and underproductive nations, for American goods, for instance, continued, it would be necessary for those weaker nations to offer an increasing amount of the depreciated currency, in order to attract our goods to their markets, until the point was reached that the international currency would be so depreciated it would no longer avail to attract our goods. At the same time, due to the drainage of goods out of the United States, prices would have been driven to socially dangerous levels here That is to say, the weak nations would have gotten our goods and driven prices up, ind we would be left with the preponder- ant share of international currency, in a sadly depreciated condition, on our hands [n other words, it would merely be another way for the United States and other strong nations with favorable balances of indebt- assume the burden of interna- tional insolvency. For though it is true that those who propose this currency provide for a guaranty by all nations in which it would circulate, that guaranty could not be made good without the gold, the commodities or the credit to redeem the pledge with. I have discussed in the foregoing pages a few of the special plans, measures, and methods to cure the world’s financial ills that have been brought forward, not so much because I am interested in criticizing them specifically as I am in laying em- phasis on the need for a restoration of usual ways of doing business rather than the setting up of unusual conditions. The more that the present state of world finance has been studied the more evident depre- edness to August 7,1920 has it become that it is not special busine or financial methods that are required or desirable. If any special effort is needed it is special effort to restore the normal and natural manner of trade between man and man and nation and nation. It is true that there are particular exigen- cies of the times that require the applica- tion of our best financial thought and attention, but what we do should be based on seasoned experience, not on novel experiments; it should make use of our established institutions of proved worth, for the problem is too big and serious to permit of experiment and innovation. The main outlines of the problem are clearly definable. With four years of de- structive, instead of constructive and pro- ductive activity, the world, particularly in Europe, has suffered serious reductions in industrial equipment and active agricul tural areas, either through absolute de- struction of plants and fields in the sections devastated by military operations or through depreciation due to general eco- nomic conditions. At the same time reserve stocks of goods have been consumed. These conditions are acute in Europe. The Migrations of Gold To make good these impairments in her business and industrial organization Europe must have from other parts of the world for a number of years unusually large supplies of raw materials. They are essential to restore her soil, to repair her factories, and to give employment to her plants and her man power in turning out finished product She needs raw materi- als both for home consumption and for reéxport in payment of her debts by mear of the increment of value given to them by her workers. These raw materials must come largely from the United State steel, copper, coal, wheat and many others required to restart Europe's industrial life That is one phase of the problem; an- other phase equally important is the condi- tion of the worid’s ¢ Before the war the standard mor ey ol the commer al world almost univer ally was gold; as a result of the war gold has disappeared from circulation. As already pointed out, the necessity of the purchase by the belliger- ents of vast volumes of supplies outside their own borders, without countervailing exports, enforced the sending of enormou quanitites of Europe’s gold into the United States and certain other countries. The shift which th in the rela- tive gold stock in the important countries of the world following figures:

urrencies

Is brought about more shown by the t MA M ARY r J ) } | tit ( Brita “ Ital 2 K | } ") F Cy u ta | Lh 4} ~ Nethe ‘ 7s Norwa OF} } I Qs 134 < ‘4 t ' “ Ar + ) lapar 12 Lr ; i #1 At the same time that this reduction the gold base for their canent my credit structures was going on, the warring na- tions, unable to finance war requirement solely out of currently produced wealth through taxation or popular loans, resorted to inflation. Government credits and paper currency became enormously expanded and gold rede ‘mption was generally abandoned. The volumes of gold which flooded the financial structure of the United States and neutral countries became the basis for a great expansion of currency there also, though they remain on a gold basis. Fur- thermore, in such nations as the United the use of banking facilities for commercial purpose had been highly developed, the war period also brought about a great expansion in the volume of bank credit. (Continued on Page 87)

States, where

ee oes i,

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST (Rubbed-In Dirt = Quick y CHushed Out vy : - a 0’ childre rompers—stockings—underwear knees—collar and cuff bands—places , " 1 P | where the dirt 1s ground in, the Millrace Principle shows its wonderful efficiency o previous rubbing is necessary. Put them in the aluminum cylinder; pour in the water; add the soap—all in the regular way. —, Because of the forceful action of the water, produced by the Mi/lrace Principle, the lushed out h pi comes out delight batch is done in a few minutes. And the cost of a big wash 1s only rt which clogs the meshes of the fabric is fu fully clean. The whole a few pennies an hour Thousands of women who have never before used washing machines are being converted by the astonishing work of the Mi//race Principle. Go see a demonstration. Also write for a copy of our tamous ‘“‘Household Manual.” It’s free. THE Maytac Company, Dept. 100, Newton, Iowa Branches at Philadelphia, Pa.; Indianapolis, Ind.; Minneapolis, Minn.; Kansa City, Mc Atlanta, Ga.; Portland, Ore.; Winnipeg, Man., Can.; and The of England, 323 Caledonian Road, King’s Cross, Londor May tag Con pany The Millrace Principle Va j ‘ fj t a “The Gray Machine With the Red Stripe”’

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86 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST August 7, 192_ ee VIA 3 i ae ere “Y - * & ib atone oan ba! See s ‘ Y a is ‘. | — ad = \ «\ *4 a Summer Comfort in the Lex-Sedan MHE SUCCESS of the Lex-Sedan is largely By building the body for the top instead of | the usual body twists and strains, and more due to the fact that it is wholly and not the usual way of building the top for the body, prac tical for all kinds of roads. partially convertibl . Lexington originated this remarkable improve- In winter it can be entirely enclosed. It is From windshield to back, there is touring — ment in closed cars mounted on the famous Lexington Chassis that car openness, when side windows and members makes such enthusiasts of Lexington owners. ire entirely removed. Phe Lex-Sedan has a perfectly matched top Ten large factories, specializing in motor car When the sun is torrid, you tour in the shade and body, a unify in appearance as in the buil- parts, are closely affiliated with Lexington, mak- under the permanent top, with every access to up type, yet it is hundreds of pounds lighter, ing possible higher quality at lower cost. the breezes and your vision unobstructed. more economical on tires and fuel, free from See your Lexington Dealer or write to us. Lex-Sedan, $2585 ; Thorobred (Sport Model), $2285 ; Touring Car, $2185 ; Sedanette, $3150; Coupé, $3150—All Series “ S" models equipped with cord tires, Above prices f ichory ar , inclu Lexington Motor Company, Connersville, Indiana, U.S. A.

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(Continued from Page 84) To review the situation as thus far sketched, we see that there is a great need for America’s raw products in Europe. We see that Europe at present neither has the productivity to develop exportable sur- pluses sufficient to balance her purchases from us in their present volume, nor has she the gold to pay the balance. We see also that her inflated, nongold-standard currencies are depreciated, adding to the burden of adverse exchange rates against her in the United States. With the violent maladjustment in the world’s trade, credit and monetary systems shown by the foregoing facts, it is quite natural that many should seek new meth- ods, new cures for the state of affairs. It is no wonder that, to some, things seem to have got so far out of gear that it amounts to the breakdown of the old order, requir- ing a new financial order. It is no wonder, either, that some should see, in the ap- parent failure of the old ways and means to continue to function normally under the stress of the times, an indication that those methods have become outworn, that it would be folly to reéstablish them, and that the great opportunity is at hand to reason out and apply more scientific and adequate plans. But I do not believe that our faith in the old order need be shaken. What is there in the world these past few years that has functioned just as humanity would like it to? I donot believe that our monetary and commercial institutions have proved them- selves any more fallible or defective in design or operation than other human institutions. Therefore I do not feel that a correction of present conditions is to be worked out through new mechanisms of exchange, new methods of commerce, new conceptions of money or new theories of economies. We have all learned to see and to act more broadly, to visualize more widely our own individual part and responsibility not only in respect to the nation but also in respect to the world during these war years; but I do not believe that this clearer vision shows the need of new ways. It rather emphasizes the value and force of the old ways, showing how imperative it is that we reéstablish as soon as possible normal social, business and monetary conditions. Restore the Gold Standard For instance, I do not believe there can be any serious questions as to the desira- bility of as prompt a return as possible to a world-wide gold standard, so as to re- establish as far as possible the monetary conditions we were used to before the war, with money standards reasonably uniform throughout the commercial world and reasonably stable over periods of time. It will be profitable briefly to consider here, in contradistinction to the untried theories we have been reviewing, 2 few definite facts in regard to gold, revealing in concrete terms the practical way, as experi- ence has demonstrated, it has served as a great and efficient instrumentality of busi- ness. Gold tended to coérdinate business conditions in the various countries in respect to each other. A country with a relatively high level of prices was a eal market to sell in but a poor one to buy from. Therefore it tended to import more goods than it exported, and in settlement of adverse balances of indebtedness sent gold to the seller countries. Countries where price levels were comparatively low, by the reverse process, tended to gain gold. Thus the currency and credit systems of different countries were interrelated and sought equilibrium with each other. The commercial world was a unified market, throughout which a merchant could trade on a workable basis and with reasonable certainty that he was engaged in business rather than in gambling, for the foreign exchanges reflecting stable international conditions fluctuated within reasonable limits of par. The desirability of restoring a world- wide gold standard is clear; the question is, How ean it be accomplished? A neces- sary step for the restoration of a world-wide gold standard is a redistribution of the world’s gold supply, for it is purely aca- demic to talk about restoring a world-wide gold standard with most of the world’s free gold piled up in the United States and virtually impounded there by economic conditions, unless released through normal trade conditions. If the nations of Europe are to have a gold standard they must have a.gol ld base. The gold standard cannot be mere sly enacted; it must be actually estab- lished by means of a recovery of the metal. The only way in which those nations can recover the gold is to increase their pro- duction to such a point that they can ex- port to us more than they import from us in other words, build up favorable balances of indebtedness against us so that we shall pay in gold. But having said this we arrive at what appears to be a circle: Europe must have more gold to restore her gold standard; to get more gold she must build up favorable balances of indebtedness against the United States and other countries which have excessive gold stocks; to build up favorable balances of indebtedness she must increase her productivity so as to create exportable surpluses; to increase her productivity she must have raw materials to rehabilitate her plants and to restart her manufactures; to get raw materials she must have gold which seems to bring us back to the start- ing point and leaves us pursuing the prob- lem round a circle. Shall We Break the Circle? But there is a fallacy in reiterating the assertion “Europe must have more gold”’ as though there were no alternative. There is an alternative, though it admittedly pre- sents a difficult and at times disc ouraging problem. The alternative is that, since it is impossible for Europe to get more gold as a starting point for her economic recovery, she must have sufficient credit to tide her over until her increased production begins to make itself felt. This brings us to the consideration of the credit situation in the United States. The problem can be stated in the question, Can and will America supply the credit to break the circle out- lined above? I do not hold, as some seem to, that un- less American credit does break the circle Europe will become bankrupt and civili- zation will succumb to Bolshevism. I have enough faith in the tenacity of human nature, in the courage of mankind and in the pride of nations to believe that, whether the United States helps or not, Europe will ultimately recover her social and economic stability. There are signs of it already to challenge our admiration. But I do feel that without our help the process will be longer and harder and more distressing in many of the least favorably situated parts of Europe than need be. Europe’s recovery undoubtedly will be quicker and more efficient, and will involve less strain on humanity, less retardation to the progress of civilization, with the full co- operation of the United States and the aid of our credit resources to finance the pur- chase of necessaries and raw materials during the period of reconstruction. But saying that does not solve the prob- lem. The credit situation in the United States, despite all our vast resources, de- spite our escape from the ravages of war, despite our avoidance of paper-money inflation, is a serious public problem and a difficult one. How is our credit to be applied to Eu- rope’s needs? Not, it is generally agreed, through further government loans to Europe; neither through any generalized plan whereby the supposed great reservoirs of American capital can be opened, without competitive business discrimination, to whoever asks for it in the name of Europe's need. The only practical way in which Amer- ican credit can be applied to Europe’s needs is through the sale of European securities in the investment markets of the United States, either directly or else through the operations of American international- banking cofporations or investment trusts issuing debentures based on European securities. Through the operation of well- established investment laws, prince iple s and practice, each investment can be analyzed, its merits determined and its proper inter- est charges established, both in relation to the risk involved and the supply of capital in this country available for such in- vestment. Credit for Europe cannot be supplied by eleemosynary methods or by haphazard business practices. There are more was than one for America to assume burder that do not belong to her. Repudiation of the world’s war debts and international- currency plans are not the only ways. Unwise investment in European securities by leaving a mass of bad investments on the hands of the American people, would THE SATURDAY EVENING POST lead to the same end, and would do Europe no fundamental good. The result of this sound business process will be, of course, to bring Europe's credit needs face to face with the fact that at present there undoubtedly is a stringency of free funds in America for investment purposes. One reason is that the large investor, both corporate and individual, can afford to invest only in fully tax- exempt state or municipal securities be- cause of existing rates of Federal income tax. An untaxed return of five per cent is more profitable than domestic or foreign investments subject to Federal taxes. An- other reason is that the small investor, who would ordinarily be another great source of funds, influenced by the wave of extray agance which swept over the entire civi lized world since the armistice, has not been saving commensurately with his present scale of income. In addition to this condi tion is the fact that the American people have not been educated up to sufficient knowledge of foreign values to feel confi dence in foreign investments, especially when the competition for the limited supplies of domestic capital makes it impossible for American companies them- selves to secure the funds they need. Much has been made of the fact that there is available machinery, such as the Edge Act, which provides for an extension of our banking system into foreign finane- ing so as to apply American funds to the problem of providing credit for Europe’ continued purchases in this country. But the existence of machinery alone is not enough; there must first of all be the sup- ply and the willingness of capital. Bearing on the willingness of capital is the attitude of our own Government to- ward Europe. Quite properly it is the policy of this country to keep away from government control and to promote private initiative. Also I believe the Government is absolutely right in its determination to make no further direct loans to Europe At the same time the problem of extending commercial credits to Europe is so great and of so deep a public significance to the American people that the attitude of the Government of the United States should be definitely established in this connection. Further Credits to Europe There is also required for the intelligent handling of credits for Europe on a large scale more thorough and intimate informa- tion as to the security Europe has to offer Small or new nations of unproved stability present a degree of political risk beyond what can reasonably be assumed by ordi- nary business enterprise. icans at present have sufficient information with respect to these smaller countries to undertake credit arrangements with them directly. The best course is for Americans to enter into carefully guarded coéperative arrangements with financial institutions in the more stable political units of Europe, which are closer to the problems of credit judgment involved. In all of this there are no special mea ures or financial novelties involved or re quired; it merely calls for a more intense application on a wider scale than usual of well-established principles of busines te fore the war it was customary for England, Holland and other countries to invest ex tensively in American enterprises. In other words, they extended credit to us to de velop our resources. We were then a debtor nation. We are now a creditor nation, because those investments of Europe here have been largely reduced through the return to us of part of our securities by Europe in settlement of her debts here, and the balance is more than offset by the government and private credits extended to Europe during the war period It seems clear, both for the sake of hu- manity in Europe and for the maintenance of our own foreign trade, that further credits should be granted. The problem of America’s granting this credit, as we have thus far analyzed it, seems to require for its solution that the investment in Eurd- pean securitie on the part of our large investors be made possible through a recor struction of our own excess-profits and income taxes; that the large body of small educated in respect to — - lish their co investors be pean investment to est dence therein; that we obtain from our own Government a definite statement of policy; and that we make up for our ow! lack of detailed information in regard t (Concluded on Page 89 Very few Amer- | : a q Light where you want it Adjusto-[ite Adjusts to any position NEW wonderful invention, Adjusto- l Lite, a lamp that you can attach anywhere—to bed, shaving mirror, table, desk or chair. Stands perfectly wherever an ordinary lamp is used. Throws the light exactly where you need it most. Prevents eye strain. Cuts lighting cost Gripping clamp is felt-faced and can not scratch. Compact. Durable. Solid brass. (Guaranteed for five years— price $5.75. Ask for Adjusto-Lite at the store where you usually trade If they don’t carry it, order direct. 5S. W. FARBER 141 151 dO Fifth St 9 Brooklyn, N_Y. P in U. S. A., complete with 8-foot cord, plug an chet. Brush brass finished, $§.75; f y Bronze or Nickel pnish, 9.25. 1 fi rices, Se per lamp higher b , TRADE O*/ MARK On. ans “ Adjusto-Jite

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST August 7,1920 The Resiliency 1s Built un the Wheel

The iia Economy of the | Sewell Permanent Rubber Roadbed | Built in the Wheel Is Measured in Years as Well as Miles of Service That is why Sewell-equipped Trucks are counted in fleets; why there are 50,000 Sewell Wheels in Service in 400 American cities, serving 75 different lines of industry. Sewell Wheels are accepted as a national utility a Permanent, Profitable and a

Preferred Investment. The Sewell Cushion Wheel Co. Detroit, U.S. A. (or me tp get ‘ener be, | sh n| me <n 1. Sal y ie z ¢ ( or

Branches and Distributors Atlanta, Ga Miami, Fla Baltimore, Md Milwaukee, Wis Birmingham, Ala Minneapolis, Minn H 1, Ma lew N N n ‘ ‘ tr, Colo Seattle, Wash | Indianapolis, Ind Springfield, Mass Kansas City, M St. Louis, Mo I Angeles, Calif Washington, D. C i " lle, Ky Wichita, Kans

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= (Concluded from Page 87) European conditions bearing on credit by entering into coéperative arrangements with the stronger European nations, either governmentally or through private finan- cial organizations which are in a position to pass proper credit judgment on the more unsettled areas of Europe. These foregoing items are important matters of detail, but the big fundamental principle on which we must build our whole thought and action on the problem is that whatever funds are obtained in America must be obtained without adding to the inflation in our own country. The United States can extend further credits to foreign nations only through the curtailment of its own expenditures and the increase of its own productivity if inflation is to be avoided. To create in- creased purchasing power by the creation of additional credits, without at least a cor- responding increase in the amount of com- modities available for export, would be of no advantage either to ourselves or to for- eign nations. Increased purchasing power through further expansion of credit would merely increase the cost of living here and abroad and aggravate existing social unrest. It is therefore necessary that any foreign credits to be granted must be based upon additions to our own capital and not upon additions to our credit structure. In other words, the capital for European credits must come out of the savings of the American people—that is, they must pro- duce more and consume less, leaving on the one hand greater surpluses of goods to re- reserve stocks and to export without driv- ing the cost of living higher; and on the other hand leaving unexpended surplus earnings for investment in securities to finance the sending of these surpluses of raw materials to Europe. This is the financial gospel of work and save. As I said at the outset, the problem is not one merely for the ministers of finance, for the bankers, the business men and the economists of the world to solve, but one in which everyone must play a greater or smaller part. Every man, woman and child, whether he realize it or not, is, in fact, playing a part to help or hinder. Everyone who has felt the burden of the high cost of living has become thereby a participant in the world’s financial prob- lem. Those who sought to meet their own phase of the problem, as expressed in their mounting family expenses, by adopting stricter personal economy, thereby aided in the solution of the world’s problem. Everyone who, beguiled by higher wages, increased business profits or unwonted speculative winnings, dissipated his surplus in reckless buying, extravagances and ex- cessive consumption of goods, thereby hindered the solution of the world’s post- war problem. In all of this I have tried to make clear my belief that it is not special methods that are required, but merely the intense practice for a few years of well-recognized principles of sound national economic life. We must have production adequate to meet legitimate demands. We must keep consumption within bounds by moderation, but not by miserliness. We must maintain our financial structure on such lines that credit shall truly reflect the commercial needs of the period. The true function of credit is to serve merely as a medium of ex- change to facilitate the production, trans portation and sale of the physical materials of industry and commerce in such volume as is required to serve the needs and com- fort of the people. These principles call for nothing but level-headed business— whether it be in the management of large foreign-investment operations; whether in the conduct of manufactures, stores or banks; or whether in the conduct of one’s own domestic economy and family budget. In this, and THE SATURDAY this only, is the ultimate solution of the | world’s economic problem to be found. Japonesque SAW her sandals on gray temple steps The little rosy sandals she flung down And thought them cherry petals drifted there, Until I saw her frown. And when she knelt beside the lotus pool I thought an iris blossom, silver-fair, Was mirrored in its de pths of amber-brown, IT said, * The river wind is in the willows”’; I said, “ The nightingale has come again”’; And knew, too late, I'd heard her little fingers | Upon her samisen, Out of the pearl-and-jade of plums a-blossom, Under the scarlet torii’s flame of prayer, She led and mocked and dared and lured and beckoned A geisha girl with poppies in her hair Her feet they wove the sacura-odori Threaded the ancient, stately cherry dance, Hler eyes they laughed and dreamed and teased and flouted, A thousand Aprils blossomed in her glance Sut lovely, piqued, displeased, she turned and left me, This geisha with her crimson fan and comb For I hadn't even seen that she was April My heart had only cried, “It's spring—at | home!’ Dorothy Paul, EVENING POST 89 CVE RY WrEKE HERE is no safer, saner method of meet- ing the daily problems of commercial reconstruction than the use of Macey Filing Equipment. No one thing contributes more directly to simplicity, economy, speed and accuracy. A quarter century of faithful service has long since established its dependable high quality. Macey Filing Equipment is in use throughout the world. The Macey line consists of Filing Cabinets in wood and steel, Filing Safes and Sectional Bookcases. Separate catalogs of a ‘he MACEY COMPANY Grand Rapids, Mic higan Manufactured in Canada by lhe Canada Furniture Manufacturers W vodstock, Ontaneo Ltd | le 6-664 Jac het hopega I 4)

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vhose only mysteries were sordid and man le But he had to see Mary through Ile had browbeat en her into acquies- ence with Trainor’s plan not without me pale deceptions on Trainor’s part vhich were designed to soothe Mary’s stiff le ind his peculiar code of duty com elled him to wait until she was safely in ed in aschool. Then he would be free He drew a long breath, unaware that the rously fragr int of pringtime air w gi is om time and mating time ind threw ick |} head and beat himself on the breast, laughing When people stared at him he ducked his head and hurried away to his own icro $ the room did not hold the world in ip? rant disdain as did Mary garded it more wi ending lul gre ce, writ git down is a stupid and pitiable, but on the whole rather good-humored, place had gone out of :long mirror. Her brown hair wa thly back, puffed softly over x ky Ligne st ombed smo her ears and pinne i ft knot at he neck Her sl } ome of the roug)} ened brown which the tropic sun had baked into it, and was smoother with a subdued tawny glow about it Hler teeth were re tored and straightened ’ Trainor did not argue and scold : Archie Prentiss did. Trainor merely said, to do and spent lone tearl ght tar yang to the dark and beating her | wit potent res nent, Mary went where Trainor wanted her to go and spol: politel people ber e he wished her to ‘ ited ai cert masculine . ! { n her ¢ ‘ th w he Pra tact! fed to her that lac | not use | ( dan o9 And v, th gl ew l ta t t herself, Mar \ ‘ y fa { like being i lad Ihe mbering fem ne with he ‘ ‘ vy, a ed ‘ long d ‘ half afraid he hid th fr ‘ wit! ast I ‘ half savage, | vher he wa lone he looked oft » the gla ind the ! he beheld the pleased her more every day Her dre of old blue set off the gold of her skin and the glow in her eve It was a tight simple gown with strange Chinese ‘ ! lern mda yy ¢ imeled chain for ag ‘ It ited e poised ender ‘ t her ‘ soft gra indal ind lk stockings finished the picture W } her a ove he head Mary irned slowly before the 1 r i sort of guoTOUs dance Che still cree; vy of the t I er wa the vil f it, and the | nate breatl f great br ding blo und the f iarreling bird \ beneath all these the ve ng of gle the savage, aching spell whicl Ire himself had felt .which deadens like eth { makes glad like wine and tor ture ihe pa Faster and faster Mar Lassaigne whirled Ther idden! ‘ i fell and her face onvulsed l rt jungle motif had crept the mer fa ‘ e with soler tree ling al ‘ \ Db, a harp as the fa beast, ft past her lips. S lung herself he ty Along with the ‘ f he ex THE SATURDAY EVENING POST DEUCE HIGH Continued from Page 25) He Realized Sud:+ denty That Had the Junglo Catled Through the Lips of Any Other Man Mary Lassaigne Would Have Answered as Trust« ingly, as Gladly Her eyes were still swollen when Trainor came in later with Mr Mooney There wis a stranger with them, a tall thin man called Paget. Paget’s eyes were gentle and his voice a bit tired, with something in it which Mary thought was loneliness. The girl did not shrink into sulky silence with Paget as she usually did with strangers ‘You're rather disappointing, Miss Las- rne,”” Paget told her. ‘‘ Puss led me to expect some sort of gypsy person who would talk to me in Greek meters—and I find a very nice-looking young lady who looks as though she might enjoy going to a ball game Mary’s lip curled faintly and for an in- tant she bore a startling resemblance to La aigne “You should have come last week,” she i saucily. ‘I was quite savage then. I believe | even ate with my fingers!” l'rainor laughed loudly. “‘By George, I ad ‘t blame the child!" he declared. ‘We have pranced round like a lot of lion tamers trying to teach tricks to a blue eyed kitten We've rather overdone the _ intensive ilture business, but if we've been a bit crude, Mary, you'll have to forgive us and remember you are your father’s daughter.” rrainor’s continual references to Frank Lassaigne, whose intimate friend he in- ed that he was, troubled Mary vaguely. he wariness bred of years of defensive elf-reliance had not beer palsied by the anesthesia of civilization. She still read men, not by their words, as defended women do, but by their eyes and the things they left unsaid. And she marked in Train- ‘ , , or's claims as a family friend a certain glibness and a certain veiled vagueness, She knew that Lassaigne had owned few friends, and though he had spoken of named to her a huge ind laughing person named Trainor. But he kept her own counsel, wor lering faintly f Paget would | e to be ther unsu pected admirer of her father. But he said ga ‘We've found the school for you,” Trainor told her, “It’s an old-fashioned place kept by two little widows, and the i ctually learn something that’s worth while It's quite reasonable, too; I think we can afford it.’ Very early in the arrangement Trainor had encountered the stiff rebounding of Mary’s pride. Since then he had con- veyed by clumsy hints the impression that immense sums were due Lassaigne from the Government, and that the collection of them was merely a matter of time and patience. And here again Mary’s uncanny intuition had enlight- ened her. She had read defeat in the eyes of Prentiss on his return from Washington; she was beginning tosus- pect that there was little to hope for from the department. But here also she kept si- lence, She was beginning to realize her own ignorance, and with the realization came a certain subduing humility and a lessening of her sureness in herself. She was learning to accept things as they appeared, without argument or analysis. “*We'll drive out there,” suggested Mrs. Mooney. “Put on a sun hat, Mary; the blue one. It’s like August in the street.” At the curb where Trainor’s big car stood Mary’s eye was caught by a quick-moving figure crossing the street. It was Prentiss, dressed in the shabby adventurous-looking clothes he usually wore, his hat jerked low over his eyes, and in every alert movement the impelling wiry spring of the life that was in him, the pulse of a spirit controlled and full of purpose and moving always on a single track. Mary knew that Prentiss was coming to see her, and by his face she knew that he was bringing news. And she knew suddenly that she wanted to stay at home and quarrel with Prentiss and listen to his ingenuous, brusque lectures upon manners or dress more than she wanted to ride in Trainor’s luxurious car. It was as if something homesick and stifled in her heart stirred and cried with a loud ery. The street became suddenly a fevered river, and the city round whispered with the wooings of banana leaves swishing amorously in the dusk. And of all the crowd there was only Prentiss, slim and boyish, with freckles shining on his nose, and herself, whom the wild secret places still claimed, And then Prentiss saw her, and swiftly civilization laid its cool hand upon her again. She bowed a proper bow as she had been taught, and the car whirled away, leaving Prentiss standing blankly in the middle of the street. “Hello,” remarked Trainor. ‘‘Wasn’t that Archibald? I thought he was on the way to Bermuda.” Mary sat up. Bermuda! She had been born in Bermuda. She remembered now childish tales which Frank Lassaigne had told her in a tent of nights—of sea like blue glass, and of white, white walls and of greens so tense that they sang in the air a song of eternal summer, and of bird wings flashing in the sun August 7,1920 Archie Prentiss was going to Ber muda! And she—how she hated this red-brick building whose gate the y were enter ! How he hated it! TI would be worse than the convent Her expurgated vocabulary failed of competency as she viewed it! x HE proper maid at Miss Hudson’s school took Prentiss’ hat and directed him into a small parlor, painfully clean and perfect in ye llow and white Prentiss felt keenly uncomfortable. His feet were somehow be- bsurdly big and dusty His hat looked like a vagabond and disreputable thing. The chairs, cushioned in yellow satin, were obi iously never intended to be sat in by a male person in corduroy trousers. He stood miserably on one foot, survey- ing a colorful print above the pristine white come a and wondering where the jackass artist got the idea that U'lmus plumosa bore pir nate leaves like that. Then Mary Las- saigne came in, looking younger, smaller, whiter and more Ingnter n Prentiss could have believed p ie@. “Oh—hello,” said Prentiss awkwardly ** Didn't know whether they’d let you come Thought maybe you'd be down or not. studying or something Mary sat down on one of the yellow chairs. “‘It’s drawing this period,” she said simply. “I’m not taking it—so I’m free be “‘T see,” said Prentiss He had a hundred things to say to her. He had to tell her good by. Old Byers, of the big seed company, was sending him to Jermuda. It was an impor commission with a bit of adventuring in it. He had been lucky to pick it up. It meant beg hen he had been resigned to five years or so of tagging humbly after an older field man, an eager bearer of parapnertr alia He had come to tell Mary all this be- cause, of all the people he knew, Mary was the only one who would understand. Mary eathed the fragrance of dizzy ng heds of teeming bloom. Mary knew the things which hidden streams tinkled over mosses, rank and poisonously green. Mary knew the cry of passin “ds, night-belated and enraged. Ma iat there were days of different hues —lilac-colored mystic days, days of passionate crimson glowing, yellow languorous days! And now, when he was bursting with feelings like these, he ning absolutely on his own The yellow room was like a merciless light turned upon him. He felt as though he were framed, gla covered, gilt bor- dered. He looked at Mary with misery in his eyes. Mary was different too, quenched somehow, like a flame carried tamely in the fingers! “I—I came to telt you good-by,” said Prentiss dully. ‘‘I'm leaving to-night.” Mary rose, “*Good-by,” she said. She held out her hand. Prentiss took it mechanicall He was trying to make him- self realize that the hand was the same Continued on Page 95) =

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ‘*Roval Blue’ for Men and Women. ‘Liberty Bell” for Children — —=— —__————————— —— ————S ——_— ————SSD | “Here is a Good Shoe” A Selz standard learned in 50 years of shoe-making Good shoes— all leather, tine workman hip, were patent leather, no guarantee held us—but fair prices. we asked our dealers to send them all back. | This 1 se , in lit itt ‘ ab : [his is a house which in all its fifty years Thus we have built up slowly, carefully, a | has never knowingly made a poor shoe. good-will that millions can’t buy. | | s founder, Morris Selz, set standards that ‘ Its f ler, M Sel 4 | Thus we have Kept ever before us the prin- often have been difficult to maintain when, in : cipl ; of the founder ot the House ot Selz. the trade, compromise was general. But never me. — Regis Thus we have kept faith with the public. has the name Selz been associated with any but good shoes. Note we do not speak in superlatives. Lead And here—'midst our Fiftieth Anniversary | ° , _ ecg 1, . Tre ership always brings modesty. We'd rather let us give credit to the 30, Selz dealers | nd t iT rt on ] , . | | understate than overstate. For we know out and their part in Selz success. Many hav been with us for 10, 1¢, 25, 40 years. We have product —we believe in it every wearer ’ ’ ° ° ' Ww na ’ it Zz ret 1 > | | comes to appreciate the quality, the long grown and profited together, Our ideals have wear, the general satisfaction of Selz Shoe 1 th I : ' We know there is no greater asset than our Here 1s a good shox o say we. So say good name. And we protect it at any price. our dealers. So say those who wear Selz Shoes. i | In our 11 factories there are the most rigid It comes from the years past—a great heri iT : standards, the minutest in pection, tave, greater each year, in these days of flam- | } ; boyant clain If ever a shoe that is faulty gets out into We want you to know Selz Sho we want distribution, we recall it. you to mold your own opinion of them. Learn : t 11] ir ’ 1de -ectige Once, a long time ago, some shoes went to what has built up our nation-wide prestige. ° } Lee ] . stl . oa P > our dealers that after a while showed faulty Such a knowledge will be to your advantage. : - ihe . os 8 eee . . Bs thread—thread that rotted easily. We recalled Phen you'll always insist that your shoes bear 1] ¢ al>z | ] | them all. the Selz label. 4 | . Another time some shoes which cracked For men, women and children— 1000 styles | prematurely, went into distribution. As they a range of prices. At dealers’ everywhere. | | : Fi, | | e t | f 1871 1O20 | ? CHICAGO PITTSBURGH

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92 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST August 7,1920 oe PES a! ae “Now We Can Dance” [n thousands of pleasant vacation places this happy scene is repeated every year. With the Type D-2 Vacation Model Columbia Grafonola you can dance to the very last note of every record. It is equipped with the Columbia Won Set Automatic Stop, which operates on any record, long or short. Nothing to move or set or measure. Just start the Grafonola, and it plays and stops itself. Sweet and clear of tone, light, compact, and easily carried, it is a never-failing entertainer for vacation days. To make a good record great, play it on the Columbia Grafonola Standard Models $32.50 to $300 Period Designs up to $2100 CotumsBia GRAPHOPHONE Company, New York Canadian Factory: Toronto

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Vacation Model D-2

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST August 7,1926 Made to refresh you when you need that . oo = moments rest why ts fe ie measured in months woh automobile’s life is measured in 4 ns \ KK le t Sc ap is i Spe ( ially made P-QAWENTY-FIVE. years ago tl Jerge great industt ’ ised t to refresh, as well as cleanse. It an ingredient so cooling, SU r, that physicians often recom its effect on ingredient for The mere enjoyment of h it 1 > the se vothing touches the living violets pths Its 5, Suggests st water It The very rive it its refreshing value ticul irly de lightful for ret Jerge ns Violet wherever cents a cake. 1 Send 6 cents—learn to double the refreshment of washing Ju st W ishing : " " r 6 cents we will mail you a small cake | of relax u a new idea of how r m tho have in actual t You can this Sil rie 1K act of washing your face The Andrew Je rgens Co., Avenue, Cincinnati, Ohio. S« up the next time you wash vy ls ify od 1, address The Andrew - i what a surp ng amount Jergens Co., Limited, 655 Sherbrooke Street, aia ta and sec fefreshment it gives you JERGENS VI RANSPAREN ET SOAP Few singers capacity for trying day of film making can equal , , sheer hara of needed relaxation et ting down a / nd plavi id plavi

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i ; |

(Continued from Page 90) which had bent a dogged oar on that wild till race down the river, that those fingers had fired a pistol at him, had dug the grave of Frank But those things were too far s meticulous atmos

Lassaigne from tl away phere of yellow and white. Mary’s hand was soft now, and manicured, and a bit cold “T’ve got a job, you know—Bermuda,” - ‘ people. new ones, iL ilium aura- continued; th _ Byers yY want some im I Hen A ire tired of

im. I'll be gone six month: “Six months?”’ re peated Mary. She had on some sort of youngis h - ss of limp black stuff, with a childish collar of white crape. Prent did not bnew ¢ hat Mrs. Mooney, having _— 1 of Mary's recent bereavement, had plunged her into irtorial mourning, arguing wisely that mourning was a prote pr to a girl so dan- gerous ly ur sticated Mary. He only knew that she looked altered and a bit wistful, and that all the bristling inde- pendence had gone out of her He wanted to say a great many things sophi as and to ay them glibly, things that troubled him, things that he would have “+ to the brown, lithe, untamed Mary who had fled with him from Jesus Alvaso. But he } ifted to the other foot and grinne od feel “Six month he long enough. ly. You ; won't

can’t get well located in a field in six months. I've got to go pretty far ir back from the coast towr I've got to provision and learn the country and build ome sort of a shack-—-you have to cure bulbs, you know.” Mary stood with parted and some thing = ng I ad come into her eyes. ~/-a !”’ she half whispere ‘You'll ¢ the rains!” “Can't help it.” Prentiss dismissed that factor casually. “I'll get dormant eason to work in.” But Mary had not heard I love them,”” she murmured dreamily. “The lver tent

t and now be wild, winging hake olf the s li held her s h dre covered | She was a forest thing gain inal n lls as he himself had chafed, longin solitudes as he had longed ind he mured her in a yellow itin jail, er il’s breath } ' given her pastel cartoon of : pinnate Ulmus plumosa to look at! He felt again the surge of the strange troubling impulse— the uneasy desire which burned and weakened him like a secret sin. He shrugged it down in boy contempt for any heart pi +o men, but

when it was go ‘ld and weary and } urpo tit He told YM: iry good-by eyes flashed at him for so dully that her an instant with

ome of their ancient resenting. Then he went away He did not look back as he went out the gate, for h pirit Was seeing visions beyond the stony ets— visions of a white tent set among listening long- linge red trees! xI I tell you!” declared lean ng back and light- ’S coming on, Trainor,

tte. “I’ve got you fellows beat. I've won your money.” Forbes tightened his thin mouth. “I can’t see that you've proved your point however,” he argued; “‘the girl came fr good people. She already had an education of a sort.” ‘Most any girl has an education of some ort, my friend,” insisted Trainor. ‘* Mary does know Milton But she never made the acquaintance of tooth paste. She thought a nail file 1 budding knife, and geography was as vague in her mind as Hebrew. You don’t find them more unen- lightened than that, Forbes, often.” ‘So—you’re going through with it?” Trainor dropped his feet suddenly on the floor. ‘‘Are you crawfishing, Forbes?’ he asked bluntly. Forbes cleared hi question of the money,” understand that of course. But—I've got a proposition that will take me out of the country for some time. Years perhaps. And a man naturally feels bound by a con- tract —even an absurd agreement like this! Of course you're bound to real the absurdity of it yourself, now, Trai

“Tt’s not a declared. ** You

or leaned back judicially. i. ‘I confess I don’t see any a rd } Neither does Paget; nor Arc t's an unusual arrangement, I grant that I'm rather enjoying it myself. But —if yo ; prefer t ) be out of it Forbe we dk want to hold anybody against | will. You can pull your money out; I'll » you a check now

joker “Forbes a woman on the t anyway! I don’t want I want to make if you hold to evade,” man wants to marry of a ¢ I don't to marry anybody and I can't do it in aad cont kass scheme “I’m writing your check now, Forbes,” said Trainor quietly. ‘I’m calling it off as far as you're concerned. Archie and Paget won't ki I know them.” When Forbes had gone out pursed his fat lips complacently. Pre ntiss, he had glimpsed the fearles gleamin g spirit of Mary Lassaigne. And like — Trainor had not been able to vision that burnished winging thing which lived in Mary’s eyes yoked with the calcu- lating pr of Forbes! l Cn. Trainor Like tiss, x1r ss PRENTISS 4 juickly through the ¢ tunneled drive at Miss H Dusk—that in walked very loom of the tree- idson’s. fragrant } , 1diOUS alchemy which a spring day works as, departing reluctantly, it flings a naive destroying smile bac ; into the cool darkness—made i the grim bulk of M Hudson's melt into the shadowy trees about it with a softened outline. But to Prentiss the silhouette of it wa nister. It bore the hape of many t } ti.e last amazing hour he

» things was money. It laws which burdened the rie

were like stone int , little people and wer destroyed if one *k a blow b a Prent found hiss f hatir , but prin cipally Trainor’s money was Trainor mone that eparated M, iry Lassaigne from him as ruthlessly as though she were sealed in an urn of gold. And out of t astounding battle whi h the last othent ser witnessed in tt which was the of Ar mystic heart e Prenti a poet e heart of and the straightforward heart of a lad—a sing conviction had emerged, burned naked as truth ved Mary Lassaigne! now why she had been to him He k

He (new as a flaming r ck se a rive Hen penone as a trumpet calling in still dim ai aquiver! She was the woman! That was : God agair She was his woman, and no man’s mone should clothe her in a gown of black or set her within silken wal She was his woma and she was ni tt » be wooed by rule or wor by a gambler’s luc! Having 3 i at these decisior Prer tiss had traight to Mary in that deliberate ngle track fa m of | He had come to take there woul green listening tree i be a

He had no very coherent idea how he was going to accomplish t} Prent lid not trouble often about the how of thing Given the wherefore, he left tl how t chance and i ilse. And the dynamo of youth which was in him, which drove hin through situations w a machinelike ine orablenéss, he counted on in tl He strode up the drive and into the portico of Miss ‘Tudson’ And though the maid who answered the bell was even n t sternly m than the one of the aftert something Cone 1 and audacious in his face impel ed her to ascertain if M La Ligrnie coulk (* nterviewed at this unlawful |} Ordinarily she would have ushered him out

without ceremony. It was not Mar a house pr I tor perbly , however, bu agel ame black; an lual in shell who looked Prentiss over with named him a“ person” in tones almost aud ble. But again Prentiss’ boyish eyebro prevailed against conventions. The 4 grew a bit nervous when he explained tha it was necessary for Miss Lassaigne to leave the school immediately. She summoned a marvelously poised secretary, who referred

cold indivi spectacl eyt son

t him to a very superior dean. In the end they allowed him to see Mary for five minutes, which was enough for Prent THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Mary came down, embarrassed, with an air of heninedins ed in haste, and also wit}! a glint of curiosi ty in her eyes closed door

m going to take you

told her briefly “( vu get out of t place in an hour?” Mary’s eyes flashed with a gleam as Innocent, as utterly sexless as those of a trusting child s! I bring any clothes?’ he asked all the jungle craft e had known creeping like a glad browr adow over her face Prentiss prodae indle he bore I've got you a dres he said It was a khaki , Without pockets in Which poisonous gs might hide Hi had bought it du hour, and with it 1 cordur. NV Coal licker Byer advanced him money enough so t had paid: Trainor back the thousand borrowed and had en shor iQ bor an No word of love. It was as if w Ll wry l

nent questioning to wild in the primitive, wordle ancient tongue. Mary would be ready. Wal could not hold her. Bars could not b nd her Prentiss went away down the tree- tunneled drive, walking confidently, but deliberately, as youth walks when it feel ler its feet unor, nor He was not the the spheres un thinking of Tr: of Trainor had , nor of the wor his por ket which he faitt He was a madne money pent in n paper had signed in all good bit mad, with a glad spring s, and this persisted until he was

back in his str ripped room beyond the park, where | nea;r ind » dear! ‘You know it t that! It ist not fair to Trainor, 1 not fair to you You've got to study, Ma You've got to have i! ‘ tu if W - “W have 1?”’ demanded Ma her d rect 1 ‘ ny wa ‘Because la f education i desperate nay j i Ww if ill in ‘ with himself tl he a gol Ma ind | nt It’ ! t year an Na I can’t go ba ‘ uid Mar i] ly I ed the d be 1 me ‘Then I take u to M Mooney Ire Niu ‘ diols i! t you ba ind fix things up the morning I ive to hurr The boat leave n ar Had not a great pompous limousir ! ved b il ‘ urely ence at that mo ment it might have been that t} tule would have ended here. Had the machine A r | white ling light along the hedye tant Prent Ww 1 not have seen the co temptuou ar eye and, seeing, misinterpreted it wit! masculine obtusen Or had the git flowed ver he juivering face a eul iter he would have beheld the two t i lous betraying tears that fi ved af And in tl latter case it ! fu Prent would have boarded | doggedly, for Bermuda, at one lone and lonely and utter! miserable! XII ip REW PAGET found Fred I 4 yur naspla woul rene were sluice aA ind every doorwa place ( woed Paget had tapped ‘ ewels p ne of t t ‘ ‘ pia | @X pt © Ware to ge | ! had chosen the } e becau ‘ wad ay ec ‘ a pretense at ¢ ny ¢ I I Hou ] | ed f al v 4 I { ‘ How f 1 ‘ A i ‘ era oO ‘ Paget jumped. | ait { ‘ Continued on Page 97

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST “wee ror? * ae Can you climb any hill ? Ik YOUR ENGINE STALLS on a steep hill, it means more than lost time and loss of temper. It means waste of fuel anda severe strain on your whole truck mechanism. It may mean a collision or other accident. Hill-climbing—and pulling out of bad holes power over ordinary means is a matter of power—excess of a reserve of power. Your engine must exert its great- est pull to meet the emergency. There’s where a magneto is worth its weight in gold. You speed your engine to increase your power. Your magneto responds instantly. Its voltage mounts, its spark increases. Every atom of gas explodes and is trans- SPLITDORF MAGNETOS BERLING MAGNETOS AMERICAN BOSCH MAGNETOS lated into power-impulse. The magneto meets the emergency absolutely. It adapts itself to every demand made on it. It gives maximum power and fuel economy, with minimum wear and operating expense. Magneto Ignition saves money in many ways. It avoids delays. It requires no attention. It is independent of service. It reduces carbon and avoids fouling. And it lasts as long as the engine lasts. A magneto costs more to install initially, but the first cost is the total cost. Ever afterward it pays dividends. You must pay for dependability eventu- ally. Better pay for it at first and avoid delays and constant attention. EISEMANN MAGNETOS SIMMS MAGNETOS August 7,1920 Magneto Ignition | Se, OP, S ee Wp

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ee (Continued from Page 95) with her blond swirl of hair pinned primly over her ears, and in her eyes a bit of laughter, elusive and faintly which, nevertheless, held a betray ing glad- ness, ‘Great Scott!’ exclaimed Paget. “I’ve passed this « place a dozen times a day—and you as “T am a confidential employee—under heavy bond,” explained Freddie with a bright attempt at casualness. ‘‘ Would you mind? T f hank you.’ Paget opened an awkward pa the forgotten bit of gold and te tightly clenched. ‘‘Shoplifting, actually He laughed. ‘‘ Here —take the idiotic thing. And come out of this mortuary smother \ n. If you knew how I’ve tramped this town! How I've stood at every corner; stared at every blonde until she looked round for a pol ceman! I've in e scarfpin, ple: out into the clean rain. even put personals in the agony columr “T know,” said Freddie indulgently. “I aw them.” ““And let me suffer!’’ accused Paget. ““Where’s your hat? I haven’t any um- ll uy one round the brella but we can b “T can’t go now, Andy,” argued Freddie; “T can’t even talk to you here. The detec- tive is watching us now. He'll walk this way presently.” “Tell me then where “I’m off at five,” naively. Those who truly go a-Maying may find bloom anywhere. In the bricks of sordid treets, where black wharves lie asleep with my feet dipped in the bay, in crowded y stations or long gray roads deep in dust—amazing little flowers grow when Andrew Paget and Freddie F , limbing three flights in a stone-front-pasteboard-back apartment building, lifted their faces and breathed, not the smells of floor polish, escaping gas, rst-floor roast and fourth-floor spaghetti, ut rather a f ice of clover fields in moonlight ar s asleep and the purple, passionate coolness of violets in bunches as informed Freddie b big as your head. “You can come in if you like,”’ invited Freddie at the head of the stairs. “I have r. Chops—and romaine to cook su salad—and cheese.” Paget hung his dripping raincoat on the back of a chair not of golden oak, but of a flagrant mahogany, of the brilliant, dust- betraying breed. ‘“‘T’'ll make the dressing,” he offered. “It’s already made,”’ returned Freddie, having disposed of the umbrella in the thtub and thrust her arms into a pink ror “*Tt’s the sort that comes e kind that goes with this But Paget was undismayed. Over hi lean and languid face came a look which went back to the unpainted farmhouse in Maine and a creaking ice-incrusted pump. His clothes, ordinarily marvelously tai- lored, even took on a shabby comf« irtable appearance that ace orded with the imita tion fumed oak in the dining room and the coured but dut us linoleum in the kitchen. These domestic, dish-drying, tea-brewing episodes are easy to write. Given a kitchen where propinquit nduced by sheer lack of dime ) nd ar ort of little table set for two and lighted, and even the itor could construct a romance ten ling to the nevitable conclusion. Freddie Forsyth, erving cnoy and remembering that the three china plates had a crack, f nevitablene nto which the tuation was drifting, and unconsciously she began to ugylie apalnst It. She knew that the pink apron was be- he flush from the fire coming and that the flusn I made her cheeks glow. She knew she looked bewitching pouring tea woman does not?—and she knew al desperate surene that ne { And aget to fall ir ew because cf it. That n erious, ul instru- ment, half barometer half per scope, with I which the f ire sounds the at- mosphere for cut that Paget was fa hastily, she ere emaie ¢ rents, told Freddie falling hard. So, sort of scaffold made commonplaces and ing, maddening of evasions ar casualness and every bi timber her feminine tools could hew; and with this she propped up Paget’s descent so that he felt no jarand no particular sensation except that the dreamy languor of falling was suddenly terminated. For Fredd ie, Who Was inhere mercilessly honest, knew what a THE SATURDAY EVENING POST chops in a greas she might napkins gave her thought of washir them on a loat} nausea plun She hated with which her sy bal softness of silk and the luxury of amber and gold and white fur, and the joy of id thick, thick cream in be¢ csillet, however brightly that imitation-linen d that the | late and tilting drain board sent a cold zing into the pit of her stomach. t all with the same intensity te soul longed for the y contee ate morn ings. And something tru 1 good withir her, something that ! ack to her Irish mother I Shannon Water, cried out against letting Paget fall ir ve with a en } . ¢ quality and an environment which were “I’m a ] washed the d y teher where the danger due to lack of dimension she diluted with a cool sweetness o inner as insipid and obvious as lemona ‘I'ma silly French ry served upon an iron ‘vation for a hungry man masquerading It’s all miserable miserable!”’ For Freddie, stealing a glance at Paget’s lazy, rather bewildered face where a smile lurked with that hint of reserve about it, realized how very much she wanted Paget to fall in love with her. And when he had said good-} lly as any « ial friend might have 5 into her a rle bedroom stone plate quite cheer aching i fiber. She did not cry. Freddie was not of the type of blonde that can weep becomingly. But she sat up very late, slashing at her gold mane of hair with a savage brush, her eyes like golder until she heard her father’s ke Then she climbe 1 into bed fc rebellion in her heart should | tongue and hurt him. He was doing the best he could of course poor, lovable, ur lucky dad! be xIV OVE is a vagrant blossom opening at 4 times upon strange boughs. Before she iad been three months at Miss Hudson's school, fat Puss Trainor had fallen in love with Mary Lassaigne. Not ; of love befitting his years and his increasing third dimension, nor the brotherly cama raderie which he was accustomed to feel for all young and friendless things. This love of Trainor’s for Mary was a troubling, devastating affair. He viewed it with the same dazed ineredulity with which he would have realized that he was dying of a new and amazing malady; and with some of the prickling uneasiness of the man who picks up another’s purse. It drove him to merciless inward castigation, a languid, solemn moodiness not induced by the in } 1 fatherly sort tolerable heat, and chill swe atings. Pagar that he was, the amiable and impulsive fa man had never done what he called a yellow trick. And he felt that falling in | > } Mar tolow “ e ahe 1 by love wit Viary, catalogued a ewa ya signed agreement, was a yellow trick. And yet though every vein of him fought the passion he could not overcome it Not that Trainor was not justified in fall ing in love with Mary. Left alone at M Hudson's by the departure of the other students for the summer, Mary studied privately with two eld r ers, and her shy and had expanded. The cism he had ae 1 i t Vil ftene come W 1S} eserve about her omething withheld and strong —that gave her a sustained self sufficiency such as copper alloy gives to gold And like a deep still crimson flower she had bloomed, She was no longer a sull Wind-swung ‘bud; she was awake and fra grant, quivering with life in a st hushed fashion. She reminded Trainor of candle light on fe And for warm dutiful when first he having her teeth crowned, This was one of the things that com forted Trainor—this knowledge that Mary ls of veivet, color of a jack re D ainor she held the same luke tha he had knowr t her paternally into was innocently ignorant concer feelings. He realized it with re nan who lays marauding hand virginal temple relieved wher passing fingers leave no stair marble. 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Just as the human voice 1s controlled by the action of the vocal orgar in the throat, so does the VITANOLA modifier subdue the sound at the source Thus, neither is the sound muffled nor the artist s interpretation lost or interfered with The tone modifier is only one of the many features respor ible for the great popularity of the VITANOLA in truth “* The Phonograph of Marvelous 1 one It any make of disc record as naturally as life Che quality of VITANOLA music is universally recog ed and there is a large variety of models in all the woods and finishes, so that in the VITANOI any preference may be satisfied Write for the beautiful strated VI help you make an telligent 4 ¥ Dealers in open te propositior Literatu a PI graph Depa

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ve toa man of yuld not for Alaska. Page With Prent e re 1 been rvating n ov ) 1e drove } pen car up the shaded drive of M fiud , alone Mary knew how ‘ rself. Trainor saw no need for a iperon. Was he not her legal guardian? And then, the little car was cooler ‘Let’ road some place left the he t battery team fr to take | run out the body wi ot y and turned on omething froze gested Mary ted mb ! ‘Don’t do it,” ir hai ne more and ve llow and ul a nev her tawny pr face ring hair. “ na hat, objected Trainor. blow. If it blows off I'll buy for miles in a thir of other motorists, king Then they turned off into a nar irnpike lying between fields which il fields, having no subdivision sign in them or imitation-marble gate iron lamp how you a place I know,” hifting gears and slowing to peed. “IT was born down on a farm. dandelions topped with wrought want to wnor ational md about ittle dirt r between the whee seven miles then lrut road and tumble- M ir } id one ting, only ng up other re re avgain. The dusty hill with a lipped noiselessly ow where the road re ind the rushe the throaty boom of idenly as they passed d ‘Trainor ‘Used to n lard and make torches of Mary creeping up whispering ywers crushed ind lsu em “ remembered ‘Lighted boat The car k trag! brake carlet fl Black soil upturned and \ ur ive!” thought I'd buy the old place l'rainot ‘That the orchard Mary’s in lrainor and his wanted me it first! r tiy orgecoung ked » do you mind?” a 1 oOppos te upa they came farmhouse set among crab fruit Lord, little window haul up a bush ret eaded with goldet isn'tel gable inged a bit same where | used to itten in a bucket. Same old lilac woks the same, anyway) Why is it that these little houses looked ilway | Mary t rise 1pren mur th walls, bound with littl v ou t { ome x lay baking and Sat Other gu Hud ed over tucco bungalows Ww | woman tamed w rtments wit! adorable kitch rasped in them and fairly bird prisoned nor out of the car with- tt bird of a them seemed to in that , e gray ntly creature ty of clover hemmed in a 1 quiet cor tent tled about ught them cold buttermilk and and THE SATURDAY EVENING POST talked brightly to Trainor—whom it peare d that she knew of her boy ‘That was Archie Prentiss’ mother,” ex- plained Trainor when they were back on the roaring turnpike. Mary held her breath. That little woman, prim and bright eyed as a dove, the mother of an eager, horizon-winging creature like Prentiss? It was like learning that a soli- tary deer had been mothered in a guinea fowl’s ne t! * uu can look at her Archie gets that four his,”’ went on Trainor; “but it’s impossible to understand where the kid gets a lot of the other things he’s 5 I've always been nterested in Archie since Dawson, his stepfather, bought my farm. I watched him when he was a raw freshman Ag, pouting botanical names. I believe in Archie. He’s square. He'll probably die a dismal deluded death in some melancholy out-of-the-way place, but they’ll find him face up with everything accounted for in that little book of his.” The influence of that twilight drive lay upon Mary Lassaigne for many days. She found herself thinking a great deal, weigh ing people, their and mot And because she saw a great deal of Trainor he thought of him most, and her thoughts troubled her As a friendly, bluff, domineering guard ian Trainor had been wonderful, and Mary had accorded him a lucent, daughterly sort of affection. But she felt intuitively that Trainor was changing. The mantle of his affection for her dead father was wearing thin in He no longer looked at her with indulgent eyes or gave her a cheerful grin in greeting. His eyes were uneasy, full of a misery which Mary did not understand, but which she felt vaguely and which put her stiffly on the defensive. She began to feel lonely when she was with him, a though some beloved friend had departed, leaving in his place a furtive stranger whom she did not want to touch her. She did not realize that the thing was inevitable —that it was inevitable that she should become a woman—and that Trainor, cherishing a heart of youth under the hindering of un- wieldy flesh, should become a lover! She knew only that she shrank from the heat of his fingers and that she was glad when other people were with them. One sultry night when the air was full of a threat of thunder, Trainor circumvented the re laxed rules of the school and took her to a little basement place where there were long icy innocuous drinks in adorable thin glasses, and no hot, nauseating smell of cooking; and here Mary met Andrew Paget and Freddie Forsyth Instantly Mary liked the blond Freddie The girls at Miss Hudson's were all of an exotic var pink of finger nails, hiding ige puffs in their speaking a language Mary main ilence among them, watched them shrewdly, and gained a certain popu larity from the fact that her wus romantic But she had made no friend Freddie was different Her hands were white, but they did not have the bleached useless look the hands of those other girls wore. Mary liked the way Paget at Freddie It made her tl with a though was very certain that she did not want any man to look at her like that— Trainor least of all She saw that Trainor was look at Paget. She did not know his mind he was ser ap- seeking kill and a where quare conscience of ever emotions ves, spots t clothes, , languid amazing tained acanny story looke d roat acne strange loneling she ng curl that in atching Andrew Paget’ name from a paper many months old, and that there was for him a certain joy in the elimination ously They ate together and then Trainor in ted on taking Freddie There was a restless wind moving, and a mutter of thunder. “It's going to pour in five minutes,”’ he argued. “I’m driving the little boat but we can all Ng Four of them crowded on the low racing they dashed through scurrying full of whirling papers, hurrying people who heli , " home MpPUCEZE n seat, treet eld their hats with both hands, shop keepers dragging goods off the sidewalks, and flying taxis. The storm broke just as they reached the curb in front of the Forsyths’ Harlem flat building and they gained the doorway one leap ahead of a driving wave of rain But there Mary lingered, holding wistful palms to the drip “The rains!" she was saying softly, with a nostalgic ache in her voice which silenced the others, waiting on the “The rains! Llovethem! Ilove them! See how stairs. like a silver tent! In the and little singing Oh”’—she flung movement was like it shuts you in jungle the trees talk; things hush and listen out her hands and the the abandon of prayer —‘‘I hate these stone walls. I hate them! I hate them!” And to Andrew Paget, following Freddie silently up the stairs later, there came back a whimsy speech of Prentiss’. “If has been a milkmaid, she'll keep a milking stool hidden somewhere, and creep away and cry over it!” Paget wondered. Were they so unchang able after all—these women? Acting! Act- Mask and tinsel! Smile fixed on a scarlet lip! Pierrette gown hiding an ach- ing heart! Did each of them play a part? Was Freddie acting, pretending a quiet philosophy and content, and creeping away in secret to weep over some milking stool? With the poignant sorrow of Mary Las- saigne’s homesick cry in his ears he looked at Freddie under the glare of the drop- light in the parlor. And for an instant Freddie’s guard was down. There was no bravery in her eyes, no calm stillness about her mouth. There was a look there of the homesick mother who had sighed for Shan- non Water, the look of a small golden creature who is very tired and a little anxious for fear she is going to cry. And seeing this, all the lazy languor went out of Andrew Paget's lean face. ““My dear!” he said, as though the one word were a thousand words. ‘‘Oh—my dear!” He held her then, very close and simply, as he might have held a child, sitting in a big chair and rocking a little, with Freddie's face close against his shoulder and her arm about his neck. A breeze, cooled by the shower, came in and waved the dusty curtains. The city, rain-washed, was still. Paget could hear the beating of his own heart. After a little Freddie stirred and sat up, her eyes veiled and shy, her face warm with a glow of rose “Andy,” she began hesitantly, drawing away ‘Kiss me,”” he commanded, holding her fast Freddie’s confession died unborn. had meant to be brave and frank, to lay bare her little parasite soul, shamelessly. She had intended to own all her yearnings for the fleshpots, to betray her feet which burned for the luxury of expensive rugs and the paths of idleness, and her hands which loathed dishwater and plebeian skil- let handles. But somehow in the glad deli- rium of that kiss her stammerings were unheeded. And then when the things Paget was saying became a bit more coherent she was glad with swift gladness that she had not spoken. And also she was curiously ashamed and amazed at her own worldliness For Paget was telling her that he had lost most of his money—he was asking her if she could be happy—and be a poor man’s wife. A poor man’s wife! Imitation ma- hogany and delicatessen sausages— forever and ever! Salad dressing bought in a bottle, homemade hats and silk stockings with sewed-up Jacob's ladders in them! “T love you!” Paget was saying. He was so dear, so dear! She had never before seen that little-boy look in his eyes, a lonesome look that made her fingers stray unconsciously into his hair with a mother- ing touch. There was a button loose on his shirt too, ‘I love you, An swer. Chops and dumb-waiters forever! Andy explained after a little. Something about bonds and after-the-war fluctua- tions. There was enough left for a little house—out somewhere. And he had a position —he was working —Andy, who had never done a day’s work in all his forty years! The salary was precty fair. They could have a maid and a little ear. Freddie listened in a joyful daze. Golden oak for- ! Yet she was glad, deliciously, calmly she ing! She y,’ was Freddie's an- ever | glad! Was she her mother’s daughter, after all? Did she revert in primitive atavism to some distant, stone-floored Irish cottage, to a strong-armed red-blooded, laughing race of women? Or was it acting? Love acting? Mask and tinsel? Smile painted on a scarlet lip? Pierrette, pinning an apron over a tinseled frock, hiding an aching heart from the eyes of love? Freddie Forsyth did not know. Her heart, a simple organ of healthy reaction, did not waver. Her eyes were brave. “I want a blue teapot, Andy,” she said; “and a bird in a willow cage; and a grand- father’s clock!” August 7,1920 Spirit of pioneer woman, leaving behind the hearth that warmed and the soil that had nurtured her! Forgetting gold and amber and the luxury of lazy toes tucked into white fur. Would Freddie look back? Creep away some day to weep over a dusty milking stool? Likely enough. Yet the prospect troubled the ardent Paget not at all In the adventuring of the world the Cross goes ahead of the flag. But it is love which is bravest of all, blazing the path by which the world follows on! xV RAINOR, driving Mary Lassaigne home through the storm-washed streets, felt that he had reached the limit of his endur- ance. He loved Mary. Like a fire it con- sumed him, until the desire was torment. The pagan in him was dominant. Mary belonged to him. By rights she was his. Forbes was gone. Paget was disposed of. Only Archie Prentiss was left. Trainor, letting his unwonted emotions loose, told himself that Archie might never come back. The jungle was a savage and jealous mis- tress, and sooner or later she claimed her had claimed Lassaigne. Ignoring the uncertainty of his return, Trainor complacently eliminated Archie Prentiss as a negligible quantity. Archie's was an essentially celibate nature, iso- lated and imolated by dim dreams and ideals. Trainor felt that in all honor the field was his. He wanted Mary. The pain of that want was the biggest thing in his exist- And he thought that he could make her love him. Hers was a dormant nature unawakened, ignorant e looked at her, sitting pale and quiet and somehow pitifully small with her hair blowing back in the cool air and her hands over her knee, and felt already the thrill of possession. le had to break down that thin wall of reserve she kept about her, that intangible glassy completeness which he had never been able to penetrate. Since her passionate outcry at Freddie Forsyth’s door she had not spoken, and Trainor, detachment and some vague which lay behind that nostalgie ery, longed to comfort her with the or comfort his material soul com- prehended. He longed to buy her a ring—not a diamond, but some jewel richly colored, dusky, glowing, a slumbrous ruby or a topaz with flame at the heart of it. He wanted to hang soft rich garments upon her and set her at the head of a luxurious table, to build a house for her with windows ing out rosily upon joy, and doors opening into glad delight And stopping the car suddenly he her all these things He called her “ girl” with a burring caress in his voir took her arm and kissed the slender cool- ness of it while Mary sat looking straight ahead of her ir lence. And then because the heart of him was of good gold in spite of the buffoon body with which he had been cursed, Trainor put both arms about her and turned her chin up sharply and kissed her neck with a kiss that was like a sword through his own soul, and which woke the girl as suddenly as though a flame had been thrust in her face, and made her spring up and hold her chin in two defensive palms and cry out blindly, “No! No!” And then Trainor knew the heaviness of truth. He knew that he had lost; that it was that the wellspring which he had opened with a blundering hand went leaping off down the mountain away from his hand, leaving him parched, hurrying pe rhaps to quenc h some other man’s thirst. He had wakened the woman soul of Mary Lassaigne, and looked at him and flinched as though he were a nightmare. He did not. move or speak when Mary climbed out of the car and went running up the drive to Miss Hudson’s. He watched her dress flicking in the shadows, watched her until the lighted rectangle of the door received her. Then he started his engine numbly, and threw the gear into high He liked the feeling of power under his hands as the cylinders responded to his prodding toe. Trainor liked power. It was his chief vanity, his indulgence of his crav- ing for power, doing the thing he had set out to do, beating down obstacles, riding over enemies in dominant philosophic fash- ion. He had felt himself a sort of huge and benevolent chariot, with wheels of gold, trundling triumphantly through every sort of situation. He felt sore and hurt, but he (Continued on Page 102) lovers as she ence, only sensing her ¢ essence of lonelines look- mot ionless, no use; she

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ih 10:00 ‘ 10:00 etiam at Sina titnation q To 11:00 Keyrotte x Wetyy a tintut Atade Cougiertaee ) 12:00 on Malre Teamnovews 12:00 ‘he Sh ad oa mail wing A Mebdamn LUNCH 12:30 Maren ine Tinsre Ch Te 2:00 Tate ty C £ Mond | 1] #2 3:00 44 ane Wi) Mtaw (Gewme Atte) | 4.1 . - ae . ; 4:00 | = he To Mertiat _ £3 5-00 RE _—s bas REM ey | 7 in arraves frm Chrse aes @ aks Meh phons Aefrs nl Gud Comp ts aF 2 “That’s Right! I Would H ‘ > | lats Wight: ” ou ave Korg hat Appot nt!” € orgotten that Appointment: ID you ever make an important business engage so that she can remind you, if she needs t ment for 10:45 o’clock—and remember it at 11:30? proaching engagement. There’s one sure way to prevent embarrassing occur This is just one of the many simple printed forms rences of this sort stop trusting to your memory, o1 which are being employed, more and more, to hastily jotted memoranda, and rely on a simpl sive business men to avoid delays, prevent printed form, like that shown above, to keep you up and speed up office routine. to schedule in your daily appointments. Forms which require immediate attention should This form divides the working day into hourly peri be printed on colored paper—and Hammermill Bond ods. The time for luncheon is set off by double rules, gives you twelve colors, besides white, from which to and there are extra spaces for special appointments select. Write us for our free portfolio, “The Signal before nine and after five. System,” which contains a variety of forms illustrating This form is filled out, as fully as possible, a day in the wisdom and value of color identification. advance—perhaps by you, perhaps by your secretary One more step in economy and efficiency ts to stand- or stenographer. ardize your business printing on Hammermill Bond Two copies being made, one is slipped under the a reliable watermarked paper, lower in price than any glass on your desk, and your secretary keeps the other, other standard bond paper on the market. HAMMERMILL PAPER COMPANY, Erte, Pa, Look for this watermark — it ts our word of honor to the publi e + ib s? ~T ‘ } The Utility Business Paper

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST August 7,1920 Cleaning Cut with Gasoline Coating with Cement fire and tahe injure

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wy | a | = , I THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 101 Your Part in Goodyears Plan of Service ‘I believe the use of Goodyear Tire Putty and Cement has helped me to get more than 4,000 miles extra from one of my tires. The Goodyear people persuaded me to buy and keep the Tire Putty Outfit in my car and showed me how to use it. I’m glad they did, because I sealed a bad 2'.-inch glass-cut with this putty. Since then the tire has given 5,000 more miles and is still in service, although it surely wouldn't have lasted for another 1,000 miles except for the use of the putty.’’—C. A. Seelman, 5629 Drexel Avenue, Chicago HERE are included in the Goodyear Service Plan three fun- damental elements: the building of a fine tire, its convenient distribution, and an effort to help users exact every possible mile. The first element 1s accomplished in the Goodyear factories, where every phase of manufacture is so safeguarded that in use these tires will protect our good name. The second element, that of convenient distribution, 1s effected through those thousands of Goodyear Service Station Dealers everywhere who deem your satisfaction the most valuable factor in their business. The third element in the plan endeavors to increase tire mileage for the user, and 1s most effective in those cases where the user lends it his full support. So, Goodyear Dealers teach the causes of premature tire failure; they provide lessons on tire care; they will supply you with Good- year Tire Savers and teach you how to use them. Your part in this plan is to take advantage of their advice and carry tire savers in your car, so that when necessary you can repair tire injuries either on the road or in your own garage. At the nearest Goodyear Service Station Dealer’s, ask for advice and for the six Goodyear lessons on tire care; and stock your car with tire savers—these provide the means to greater tire mileage. HINT

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(Continued from Page 98 would not admit to himself that he had f failed Scared her— poor little kid!”’ he elf as he turned the car uptown. what a wild little thing she is her Go *s got aid to ‘ For- She’ll aione slow! ord, what e} what eyes!" In herownroom Mary Lassaigne slammed locked it, and sliding against it, pushing the trength as though to that struggled to po pet over it, L, door the floor rht away something nter But the thin rred out 4 like a torch-in her blood, ame her own dreaded could not be was already within, her cheeks, flaring burning her with spiritual and physical consciousness of being a woman A man loved her— Trainor, the fatherly whom she had obeyed meekly as though she had beer daughter. He had | ed her throat, and the kiss scorched like the mark of a brand. It was horrible —this thing which had happened to her; and yet weetness about it that left her and a hurt that because it irnir trangely in trange sl one there was a trer ind quivering, fiber nulou wrung her in every She had not wanted to hurt Trainor he would have liked to have kissed him icl very quietly on the top of his head perhaps But not a ki never like that! her hand No mans ever! She had been a fool—a silly littl trusting fool! Her father’s old friend! She had never entirely believed that, and now that it was a lie! Whose or Archie Prentiss’? What did it all mean? There would never be any money from Washingtor She knew that very well, The rolls of gold she had brought with her and hoarded cautiously would not pay Trainor back for all the things she had id vom him Yet » had to pay him bach With the mart of that Kiss upon her flesh she had to throw off as much as she could of the weight of obligation And Archie Prentiss wa He had wanted her at first uddenly, aflame from head to that! She ardent under like that! Oh, never, She held her face tight in hould kiss her again she was certain lie? Trainor’ She it up t. He had wanted her seen his eye boyish and ir crooked brow And now he knew! knew! With a pair at was like noth gy on earth she lized why Archie had ome for had disdained he r, eading the ! She like he r why he lack in her face huddled in a woeful heap, cold and and mi et Somehow he Prentiss wanted his hands upon wanted to quarrel with him, to wanted to haken wanted her roughly, yebrows bristle he | again that had felt when the fingers and she the ee his ¢ tr as quaking terror he hot pistol fell from her Be A he had killed him She felt alone with such loneliness as she had never known before, even when the jungle clos - round her and her dead lay wollen at r feet he a had casually had cracked like feet, and through the fi gashed rocks of reality: and the licking fire of pa and the mists of pain. She was un ignorant, innocent child no longer. She was a woman, fallen heir to all the feminine legacy of anguish in one crushing heap She pressed her cheek against the eold wood of the door and tl ought of the mother whom she had never seer Had her mother I a litt! bird of a woman, per loving white-painted houses and fences and apples like golden upon the grass? Had she hated the uming, brooding jungle as much as Mary elf loved it? Had she followed Frank Lassaigne meekly but with reluctant dread into the moldir vy, muring, trea herous cane- brakes? Had the fear hich lurks like a tinging fang in every shadew, turned her cold o' night Mary remembered to Frank when she « convent, and discussit the heaven of the sisters’ took of Revelatior laughed then and declared that the Bible was a poor sort of book. She had been an independent, self sufficient « hild, too proud to question. But now her self-sufficiency vas gone and she longed for her mother and strained her arms after aching emptiness. And then she remembered the black tin box and brought it out of her trunk. The key was rusty and would not turn, so she broke the with a shoehorn. Inside were old letters, flecked with salty particles know walked upon so a crust under her sures showed the wS10N gray crab talking of her mother ame back from the g heaven learnedly prayers and the And Frank had lock THE SATURDAY of rust, pictures of old-fashioned folks whose identity she could not even guess, a key and a dried flower and a ragged lace- yaper valentine, the same sort of historic oa that hides in all old locked boxes. Under it was a flat packet rolled in a square of oiled silk and fastened with rubber bands. This held more letters, clean fresh- looking letters which obviously had not been handled carelessly, though their dates were eighteen years old. The envelopes were all of a pale violet and addressed in green ink, and the mes- sages inside were dated from a sanitarium for pulmonary diseases in Northern Wiscon- sin. Mary read one page and then folded the sheet reverently and a bit breathlessly, and laid the whole pack back in the box. Even with the dimming of the years, even though the woman who had written those lines and the man who had read and kept them sacred were dead, she could not read them, could not lay curious eyes upon the revealing of a love so holy, and an agony of separation so great! Her mother, dying slowly in a Northern health resort, had written those letters to her father, when Mary herself was less than two years old. And now their daughter quivered with taut breath and closed eyes and clenched her fingers at the ecstasy of a love that lay like golden light upon every wavering line, a love so deep and so wonder- ful that it had lived on voice of a great bell lives on after the stroke of it has ceased. She rose up listlessly and closed the box. It had begun to rain again. She could hear the drip of it on the tamed, orderly trees outside her window, and suddenly she felt that she could not endure it. She slammed the window shut and put her fingers in her ears, but even then she heard rushing water and the voice of a river—a creeping mystic river which had never seen the sun nor felt the ripple of the clean sea wind. Out of the emotional chaos in which she had groped, gaspin truth had strug yled doggedly: she could not stay at Miss Hudson's any more. She could not wear clothes bought with Trainor’s money nor live a sheltered-parasite life under his pro- tection. She would pay back what money he had After that she could work. Freddie Forsyth worked She packed a few of her plainest things small trunk. She would leave the others Somebody would do something with them. The rolls of Brazilian gold, wrapped in a heavy canvas wrapper, came out of their hiding plac e. She pac ked them carefully in a tin candy box, sealed the box in heavy paper with great cautious blobs of wax, addressed it to Trainor together with a short 1 and childish The package and the were delivered Trainor’s apartment the next afternoon shortly after the fat altruist had been re- moved to a sanitarium, having suffered an early morning stroke of the malady he dreaded. A careful manservant put the mail in a desk, locked it, put three of Trainor’s cigars in his pocket and rambled off to a ball game Late in the afternoon when frantic telephoning from Miss Hudson’s chool no one answered Mrs. Mooney, having been summoned by the two worried resident teachers, learned that Mary had smuggled her trunk out very early in the Mrs. Mooney went in search of Trainor, found nobody, and shrewdly sus- pecting that Trainor and Mary had gone away together, went home in supreme con- ent to watch the soc lety columns. Archie Prentiss came back from muda late in November Trainor was dead. The haunts of the lean and lazy Andrew Paget knew him no more. Somebody told Prentiss that Paget had married a shop girl and floated into some obseure suburb. And Mary Lassaigne had disappeared. as the x, one in a note, scrawle« note there was morning Ber- xvi One of those dreary winter rains which come down with the stubborn insistency of a disagreeable woman doing her Christian duty. There were no sidewalks at the end of the new street, and the very new houses were guarded by rippling moats of muddy water bridged by treacherous lengths of plank. The two people who approached the last of these happy little homes—so new that its festive green window boxes were still full of vagrant shavings and bits of plas- ter—were obliged to leap stiltedly from one tiny mound of comparative dryness to the next and negotiate the last forty feet by T WAS raining. very EVENING POST bal: ancing on the edge of the concrete curb. “Some day,” said the man—a tall lean man whose eyes had once been cynical but now held an amazing content—‘“‘they’ll give us some paving out here—when they quit issuing bonds to build useless roads for speed maniacs and pay some attention to the proletariat commuter.” i And a light on this corner,”’ added the girl. ‘ ‘Istepintothis hole almost every night, And at the present price of shoes —— She was a slender girl whose slenderness held the confident poise of boyish strength, and a face in which a faint trace of sullen- ness had been chastened into a mute and patient look of waiting. They went up the steps of the cottage, scrubbing their feet diligently upon the new doormat. There was the flash of a light within, a cheerful call, and a blond person in a pink chambray apron flew to open the door. A fragrance, mingled of varnish, brass polish, hot furnace pipes and pot roast, drifted out. The slender brown girl shook her coat, hung it carefully upon a hanger, brushed the moisture off her cheap little black hat, and turning a polite back upon the connu- bial greetings of the two others, went up the stairs. Her room was low ceiled, virginally white and slightly cramped of dimension, even though the bed was a narrow There was a window at one end, with a corner obliterated by the descent of the roof, and against this window the girl leaned for a moment in the dark- ness, looking out into the soaked and chilly night All round the lights other little new houses fingers through the drip, lighting brief yellow paths upon the surface eddies of rippling water. To the girl's eyes, hopefully seeking, the whirl and wash outside took on for an instant the likeness of a dark river creeping through shadow with the lights of mystic torches reflected in its resenting breast. She could almost hear the swishing amours Of banana leaves whispering in the rains! Then she turned away quickly and napped on a light 3efore a little mirror she touched her brown hair and examined her teeth And because memories came unbidden at the sight of that changed vision in the mirror, she flung her arms wide in a curious abandoned gesture, and hid her eyes with the back of her hand with a rush of nostalgic loneliness. A sound of laughter drifted up from be- low, and the clink of crockery. Downstairs Andrew Paget was wheeling in the tea wagon. And Freddie his wife was con- templating the domestic feat from the pantry door, and holding her breath with housewifely apprehension lest the soup should slop over. They did it that way every night, winning for themselves huge joy from little heme tasks —while above Mary Lassaigne listened and bit her knuckles to keep from erying out with desolate misery at her own solitude in a world where there was so much of happiness. They had been so good to her. In her wild flight from Miss Hudson’s school she had gone to Freddie, because Freddie was the only person knew who she had thought would understand. And Freddie had understood. Freddie had taken her in, had counseled and protected her; and later Mary had been given an apartment in the honeymooning little house with its festive little window boxes. They had been won- derful to her, and she had struggled with the heavy homesickness and which shut her out, struggled generously and valiantly so that no shadow of it should dim the happiness of Paget and Freddie . And she had succeeded so well that at that moment Freddie was whispering to Andy, over the placing of the forks: ‘“‘I believe she’s getting over it, Andy. I heard her singing this morning when she cleaned up the bathroom for me. And they've given her a raise already at Wilmot’s.” Freddie attributed every mood of Mary’s to the sudden death of P Trainor and to the fact that the girl still wore black for her father. Freddie did not know that Mary’s soul strayed antly away from the monotonously peaceful life in the little house, away from the shop where she sold neckwear and hosiery, to a far island where there were white walls against a sky like sapphire, where the greens were like some- thing singing in the sun, and the rains came and shut one in like a silver tent—strayed into dim secret places where an adventur- ing lad with stern eyebrows beetling over one, from the windows of stretched revealing she loneliness const August 7,1920 boyish eyes in which lay the crusading glow of those who lead afar, burrowed in black reeking earth and tied tin labels to black grubby roots because people were tired of plain old Lilium auratum! Mary came downstairs then, buttoning a blue apron, twin sister to the pink, over her black gown, which was beginning to show the shine of wear. It was Saturday night and Paget was grumbling because it was too wet for Sunday golf and Freddie was arguing that they ought to go to church it was a pity to be such heathen just be- cause they were so happy to stay at home when Mary, who had volunteered to wash the dishes, as she did nightly, made a hesitant request. “I'd like to drive—to-morrow—if it isn’t too muddy,” she said. ‘‘There’s a place—I know exactly wher re it is. You go out the Albany road “Tt won't be too muddy,” declared Paget. “‘That’s where all the money in the world goes—into concrete roads for motor- ists to violate the laws on! If it doesn’t pour to-morrow we'll = a new tube in the flivver and find this place of yours, Mary.” ‘I just saw it once,” explained Mary. “There were crab apples there then—loads of them on the grz ASS. And we had butter- milk —and cookies Paget laughed. ‘‘ And Puss told you that he was born in the house,” he added cheer- fully, ‘‘and that he used to haul a pup up in the front window in a bucket!” It was a kitten,’ demurred Mary, sh ine coming into her eyes. —— it was a kitten,’ Paget. ‘‘I’ve seen your place. a ever knew Puss has seen it. body has heard the story of his start in life—making torches out of cat- tails soaked in lard! Poor old Puss—he lived happy, and I hope he died happy!” Mary’s face quivered. She thought of the note she had written, thi at last night. Had he received it—in time? And—had he died happy? She recalled his face as she had cried out in revulsion and leaped out of the little car. He had loved her—dear deluded friend! The thought sickened her and she went back to her dishwater, glad of the monotony of service which brought a trifle of forgetfulness! acquiesced Everybody Every- humble xvil NTO the hands of the very young is given the joy of possessing the tragedies of the world. To youth only is the glory of martyrdom, the exalted heights of resigna- tion, the depths of melancholy. With age the relative values of these things are lost Measured against a sky serrated with dim peaks of memory the gashed savagery of lower crests is obscured. Youth, standing very near, every slashing , every forbidding cliff. But age sees only a blended picture, lighted about with the abounding light of the justice of God! A pig —even arather gross red pig, heavily maternal, coarsely greedy—could scarcely be called a tragedy, yet to the loathing eyes of Archie Prentiss balancing a bucket of bran and milk on the edge of the trough the pig personified much that was abominable in his world. The Department of Agriculture, for in- stance, offering him a job now —a six years’ job in the interior of Indo-China, demand ing that he accept it at once, when he had hunted for nine days without success for a trace of Mary. G iluttonous of the glory of the plant bureau—clamoring for service service —grudging even a scrap to a field worker! Pigs! And the Byers seed people —feet in the trough! Ignoring all the discoveries he had made —the wonderful [be ris, delicate as bird laughter, poised on a magic stem as a dream might be poised; and a tamarix like a green wind astir—a new hybrid that no one hud ever offered before; to seize greed- ily upon a great, gross Hemerocallis, a lily as flamboyant and obvious as turkey red! To pay him a bonus for finding it, even because people would buy it! Pigs! He kicked viciously at the empty bucket, flung a scorning look at the oblivi and contented old pig and stalked away. The chill of a long rain had softened a little in one of those brief smiling at tempts at which a November day sometimes accomplishes and grows proud as June over. The leafless trees shone in a slanting silvery light, deluding their boughs into a fleeting wonder as to whether or not it might be spring. The frosty grass, sunk in the rotting ground, had greened a little from the rain and the smell of it was in the air. So, too, was the Concluded on Page 104) these SeECS crevice ous Ssunniness

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(j00d Times at Home tor Men of All Ages Yr How THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ' | “t " ra ’ s -~ £'iry ‘ Un. >. r ™ \. | ‘ | | The Gulbransen Educates and Entertains Children Tr Tt ( Our Free Book | About Music I | WM a Many Pedal Strokes Per Minute? Surprisingly Few on the Gulbransen It shows you the relative effort Here is a test of player-piano ethciency which you should make before you buy. required to play different player-pianos. ‘This test is easy to make. Use a simple music roll at the same speed each time. one with few perforations. Pedal with ov/y one foot. Count the pedal strokes in 60 seconds. ‘ou will find a surprising difference between various instruments. Some you cannot play af @// with one pedal. \ ll find | g diff bet t ts. S \ t pl t | Some you cannot play smooth/y with one pedal. But the Gulbransen - due ‘to its exquisite pedal touch Nearly all will require Play the same ro// on every instrument you test. Pedal as s4w/y as you can without retarding the music. Play it very fast pedaling to play this way. you can play smoothly, leisurely, easily with only one pedal. Use full length strokes and you will observe that 40 to 60 strokes per minute are enough an thi Gulbransen. ‘This with only one pedal, remember. M 5 te f Be f WI have { he Gull ‘th t | War t Ir F ther ae ' Not G n. Pl he G — est t Y h I Bal he | t , t G insen ‘ Ww 5) e! { ‘ } k 4,00 ] Wi \ GULBRANSEN-DICKINSON CO., Gul 1 3232 iv NATIONALLY PRIC el by ha cj rybody, freight as . tax | | f each ent e¢ House Model try Seat Model lan Mindal W. Chicago Avenue, ED CHI( AGO | ’ FREE BOOK COUPON The new book,’ ts 1 Tin Vitl Your Golbrar ‘ you ma p GULBRANSEN- DICKINSON ¢ waiw. cr apo AY can i 1f ise chock t } you now own a Gialbranse . “ VPiayer Pla }° he th jua f youow }] & player pian other kind ] Check here you own a | }i an whict ' a self player | |} Use the margin below writing vour name and addrese plainly j C — _— > sce

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H OTU Kasy —Sextoblide Shaves SEXTO na t of EN think of the BLADI the h ! ors | wu t DWARD 61 + WECK SeXto W FC blade Guaranteed RAZOR stal | their brow THE SATURDAY Concluded from Page 102 a fragrance and cabbage and hay safe i il odor of autumn, made e, and dead ; moldering to death, 1 leave across a muddy dowr the tailed bogs stood vellow lake. The boom of frog green tenant had itacomb fath- But Prentiss a into I looked acro feet in diameter rail fence be ) ng down il to the water where ed She had a cat-tz \ leaning on the » road rushe crach k in her hand and she was drawing idle rele t t n th surf » of the ater cles with it Oo ie u ice ) e wate! les as they crept Pren- serge ind watching the hatter or he sedgy hs iway to I ip blac tiss saw that she wore a che suit and that her face was tired ar thinner She wi tamed flame held in the fingers—tamed like a flame blown out! He hated the tameness of her for an instant, hated the world which had tamed her! And then he made some sort of inarticulate cry, and Mary looked up and saw him Prentiss did not realize till long after that he had walked through water eighteen ot till he discovered that his He only in his heart had of Mary Las- the shortest d much tamed like a inches deep I trousers were we knew that the aching ery seen its answer in the face saigne. And he went to her by way, and wasted no pre¢ the going. He leaped the rail fence, was generously built low, and held out his arms. And Mary walked into them, very traight and still, her like torches lighted. “Oh,” whispered Mary, were in Bermuda!” ‘Been back two weeks,” said Prentiss. “Hunted ¢ for you. Mary dear —I've been so damned lonesome He kissed her then. Most big moments are like that like benign goddesses with ; touched by the Olympian mists to the knees moments in which ious eyes “T thought you verywhere EVENING POST and their feet resting upon the prosy clay of our common world! He was glad he had a job! A big job! Six They knew canes—he and Mary! xviii “ABOUT that bet,” Prentiss said to Paget that night. “It’s on my Poor old Trainor is dead of course—but who the dickens won?”’ ‘I suppose Trainor won,” Paget, scratching a match on the bottom of his chair with the nonchalance of a privi- leged character. ‘‘He bet that he would make a lady out of Mary—and you'll have to admit that he did it.” “And I bet that he couldn't change her a bit at heart—and he couldn’t!”’ insisted Archie. “I’m going to her to- marry morrow, Paget—and take her back to the jungle back to a solitude and an isolation that would kill most women! you heard her laugh before Paget?” “No,” said Paget quietly; ve I ever heard her laugh ‘I said it,’”” went on Prentiss with the insolence of youth. ‘“‘You can’t change ‘em. They’re the oldest mystery in the world. But God knows what we'd do with- out ’em!” ‘God knows!” said Paget, catching a glimpse of a pink apron through the pantry door, where Freddie and Mary were mak- ing sandwiches. “IT went through Trainor’s papers,”’ he said after a little. ‘‘The money involved in the wager I turned over to a home for friendless girls. I thought Puss would like that best. But there was something else.” He rose up and brought out of a little desk a flat packet and opening it disclosed some rolls of money wrapped in parchment. It was the money Mary had sent to Trainor the night before he died. ‘‘ Mary sent this to Puss. She had an idea of paying back what he had spent on her, I think. I’ve never said anything about it. I knew how proud she was—and she seemed to be glad to be rid of the sense of obligation. What do you want to do with it? It's Mary’s money, of course.” Prentiss turned the fateful rolls in his palm—the money which had come too late; the money he had fought Jesus Alvaso to win back again, and which had paid already the debt of Mary's pride. ‘You take it, Paget,’’ he said. ‘‘ There’s six or seven hundred dollars here. Take it years canes! conscience, remarked sut—have like that, ‘I don’t be- like that.” August 7,1920 somewhere an ever- lasting granite stone. And dedicate it to the memory of Frank Lassaigne. ‘Everything works out for the best, I ippose,”” Archie mused after a little. ‘*Yet—I'm queer, I suppose, Paget —but I wish I could have finished this deal as old Puss planned it. I wish I could have won Mary the way won the chance to find her and set up a stone had a queer é hat’s worry g vou,” he said ‘we'll cut for the chance to marry ided that if I win you'll agree » of an unpleasant matrimonial a deck of card a deck addy rht out c ia look of hav ing hee n moment. solemnly. i Paget laughed freckles twinkling. Coincidence? Coincidence, my friend, was long ago barred from literature. After Prentiss and Mary Lassaigne had started for the far Pacifie—started with rapt faces and in ir young eyes a far, adventuring look whic iw beyond the steel rails splitting a continent and the great ships leaping over the breast of an ocean and the wal strange rivers and hidden treach- erous paths, a savage land, mystic, luring, breathing out a perfume which may never die in a man’s ls so potent is the magic f Mrs. Freddie Forsyth Paget picked up the fateful deck of cards where her care- less husband had laid it. “*What an “All aces and And Paget's “Conscience, my dear,” he said, “is a conscience of Prentiss, s of of it surd deck!” 690 deuces she ext la med gmatic. terrible master. t youth is one of the seven deadly tragedies.” “T wonder if -y'll be happy,” Freddie. ‘‘ Horri! to live like that, tent —and the insects—and the mud “Happy : repeated Paget. “Of course they'll be happy; Aren't we happy?” oak forever! There was no re serve, no shadow of turning in the face « Freddie Forsyth! No memory of amber and gold and white fur! Only gladne “Cort 1, we re h | Add ] “a ippy she deciared this ' nothing! Golden j story proves ! oth ing ] absolutely (THE END t -

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST THE WONDERS OF WASHINGTON Continued from Page 19 ft “And there’s another angle to it,” he told “Yes. The power of appropriating. And makes them. It’s exactly the same idea a “So you can either keep it or sell it to I) me, ‘“‘from the congressman’s side, that’s they’ve hung onto it and built it up through with the plain congressman. There’snotan your own profit fut these fellows dow: at most important of all. Nine times out of — thick and thin ever since.” hour in the day when he wouldn't have peo- here in the Government naturally can’t ali ten when they want something for them- “Even the Germans,” I stuck in, ple hanging about his neck for something show themselves a producer's profit.”’ ‘lh elves enough to write or come down to “thought they had it~ in the old days they want from the Government me “In this town of the ultimate consumer a Washington people want it pretty bad.’ before the war.”’ constituents, if they can get at him. And I said, smiling 4 } “T can see that.” He smiled, and stopped for a minute here in the committees and their appro “No. So, naturally, they show then | “And nine times out of ten it’s the only “*Now you take my son-in-law,” he went priations it’s just the same. Only here elves the only profit they can.” time they do think of their congressman’ on then. ‘He's a perfectly normal man its states and sections and labor and big “What kind of profit is that? enough to remember his name.” no different from you or me. What doeshe business and departme political ‘A consumer's profit I call it) the one af “Well, what of it?’’ I asked him. want to do if he’s ambitious in his work parties and now kings : ueens and these new thinkers all over now seem to be | “We ll, he knows that, naturally, if he if he’s worth his salt and wants todo some _ bleeding nations of the worl hanging planning to reorganize the world for.” i n'ta fool,”’ said my man. ‘“‘And he knows _ real work in Congress?” on their necks and erying, e ake ‘A consumer's profit?” L said to him a it’s to his advantage, other things being “What would he?” I asked. give us a half-billion-dollar appropriation ‘How do you make one of those?’ equal, to give them what they want if he “He'll want to get on a committee, or we perish.’ ‘Just as naturally as you do the other can that is, if he wants to build upa body won't he? That’s where the real work of “From the time a congressman gets it When it's to your advantage to devote f friends and supporters among his con- Congress is done.” there, a green man in Congre till he ge your attention to consuming instead of tituent That's only human nature.” “Where they are when they're busy up to the head of a big appropriating con producing, I’m not talking raseality or “That's right,”” I admitted. instead of loafing on the floor of the House mittee it’s all framed on th line for him polit or original sin of any kind I'm “Tf he’s conscientious your congressman — is that it?’’ I said, going back to what he from morning till night, from one end of the just considering now the way that ordi will go no further than he thinks heshould, had been saying before session to the other, the more he gives the nary human nature wor You take a but even then he’s likely to make mis “Yes,” he told me. “And what are the better fellow he i and the more id government clerk, for instance, here it tukes, especially with folks pleading and big, powerful committees year after year?"’ — ciously he lays out his government giftsand Washington the average man, not the ex arguing out their own cases with all the fire “It would be hard to choose,” I guessed, appropriations the better it is for him per traordinary one and energy of men that want something and “I should think. There are so many of sonally the more chance he'll have to ‘Ye want it bad And I guess we can figure them.” succeed as a congressman ‘You know how he fee lon’t vou? roughly that the mistakes he does make are “They're the ones with the money “I'm not talking about crookedness or ‘No not likely to be in more than one direction.”” power, ain't they, where the big, important — villainy or dirty politics,” he said I'm Well, you ought to. You've been in hi “IT can see that,” I said. places lie for the really powerful men in talking just the reverse. You've said some frame of mind often enoug! Congress?” thing about busine there’s a lot of tall The Money Power “*T suppose they are,”’ I answered, recall- about it now about business in Washing Consumer's Profit ing some of them ton About the Government's being bu i EY'RE the conscientious ones “The whole thing is organized up to ness. That's right. That's just what iti 1?” | said to him ‘Reen in the frame Others — the ones that ain't too careful those committees and their chairmanships, Business backward. Upside down.” of mind of a government clerk?) When they'll fetch and carry for their people; from the standpoint of a man who wants “Just what do you mean by that — tl have 1?’ they've got their ears so close to the ground to make good in Congress— make a career upside-down business you keep talking *When you werea boy in grammarsch: twelve months in the year, listening towhat for himself.” about?” I asked him I never see those clerks there bending ove their voters want, that they start growing “Well, that’s business,’’ I said, “‘isn’t ‘*T mean when ordinary human motive their desks inside those stone office build roots on them. That's just human nature it, handling money and the power it work backward— just the opposite of the ings, I never see them tramping out af too, ain't it? All motives— good and bad gives?” way they do with you and me. When recess or noon or evening r whatever work the same way in this thing with all “It’s business, ves,” he said again. self-interest all lies the other way. When their stops are— but 1 can see more and kinds of congressmen.” “Business backward. The business of ap- the only way a man can show himself per- more clearly how their minds wor n the I nodded propriation, of consuming.” sonally a profit is by distributing — by con average one Hundred f them = are “No,” he went on, “speech-making and “Of consuming?” I repeated after him suming instead of producing.’ window gazer clock astronomer just debating and considering public questions once more “Explain,” I said to him, “that too.” like the average schoolboy. Why wouldn't make a pretty small fraction of a congress “They don’t get their money power be “The way I figure it out,”” he went on they be?” man’s daily business. I have to laugh at cause it’s known that they're never going afterawhile, ‘is this: Every man who doe ‘Why wouldn't they?”’ I repeated the old idea I used to have of a congress- to give out any money, do they?” anything day after day for a living has got ‘If they were working for 1 or me 1 man’s main work and power when I first “Well, no. I imagine not.” to show himeelfa profit. Youand I raised producing, they'd know that they'd either came down here. And the idea which most “They've got their power becausethey’ve the way we've been in the old school ow us a profit or get out. Here the people seem to have of them—standing got money to give out —and they're going have always been accustomed to rely on know the won't get out unle i miracle round debating or sitting listening to de to give it, sooner or later. Otherwise, a producer's profit.” happer or they murder somebod bates on public questions. It’s funny the why would they have any power at all “A producer's profit?”’ I said after him They're sure of their board and hing deas people have and keep. And yet we who'd have any interest in them?” “By that I mean,” he explained, looking without worrying, just like the set | ought to know better—just from reading ‘“T suppose there would not be anybody,” off, “ta profit from making something for Isn't that right?” history, what little I have— what the main I had to admit. yourself or hiring somebody else to male ‘I imagine so.” business and the main power of Congress “It's their appropriation power the it for you.” ‘On the other hand, they know tha and bodies like Congress always have been power of giving something away that I nodded all they will get, that beyond t there from the begin- no real reward for ning.” them for produc “What arethey? : ng, that the What do you never have he | mean?” I asked natura rmal hin b ‘ incer ‘ oT we money f vetting r hoy power. The purse ny to get a share trings.”’ of it’ the pr ‘Business, you d ‘ r mean?” mike ( Business, ves!” produet he said ‘Busi 4 do the | ness backward!” Lite i erta Jusiness back- time W ive ward?’’ I said theyyottod ‘ after hin rank and file | “Yes Upside the laws of human down Like every- nature thing else I told What ive ) you, down here in they?’ this town of the i ‘ iltimate consum m ers = “Where every- ! I thing works back ward?” ; “Ves ‘ t | “Go on,” I told * him. ‘*What this main power of Congress?” q “Ifyougoback,” he said, “to the r », time that con- =i gresses or parlia- | { ments were just starting — fighting | the old kings of England-~ what ‘ } was the chief | power they had and used to get control of things ”" ‘“*The money power, I suppose,”’ I said, ‘“‘now you “7 ey ‘ f f ‘ ‘ NEW FORE rearenaee te remind me of it.” The Army and Navy Building at Washington Page 110

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST August 7,1920 early 45,000 Owners Its Savings in Fuel, Oil and Tires Are Notable SS er » ‘ ™. NN ANT \ i : th Wi

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST And Its Endurance Affords Freedom From Repair Costs These are days when men are taking a rigid account of car expense. Wasteful types are passing. Factors of econ- omy heretofore little considered are now of first importance. As in the case of the Essex, owners have found its greatest saving is not merely in oil, fuel and tires, conspicuous as these are. They know its endurance and consequent free- dom from repair and service charges constitute their chief exemption from expense. That is why such durability as Essex, proved in setting the world’s 50-hour record of 3037 miles, is an issue of lively reality to all. Its 45,000 owners know what it means. They have the testimony of their own experience to confirm it. Why Wasteful Types Must Yield Men now reckon car costs in a more exact way. They know there are many expenses other than those of fuel and tires. Here is a letter typical of hundreds: “T used to figure car economy by just tire, fuel and oil mileage. I owned a light car and it did pretty well on those points. Eut when I escaped frequent outlays for repairs or replacements, I con sidered myself lucky. Since I got my Essex I have learned repair expense is not a question of luck. During the ten months I have owned it, I have not spent a nickel for repairs. And when my friends who own Essex cars tell of approximately the same experience, I conclude that this free dom from expense should be credited where it belongs—to the economy of the car. Incidentally, my Essex costs less for fuel, oil and tires than any of six cars I have owned.”’ Owned 30 Cars — Prefers Essex Another writes: “‘In the past ten years I have owned over 30 automobiles, ranging in price from $1500 to $10,000. My Essex Sedan docs everything and more than any of them. The riding qualities are absolutely perfect; the motor is a little wonder on both acceleration and speed. In 3000 miles of country driving in a little over four weeks, there is not a single rattle in the body, and it certainly is a great satisfaction to know that one is able to go every minute, with nothing going wrong. “TI believe no one could buy a better auto mobile regardless of price. I never believed it possible to secure all the comfort and satisfac tion that I have in this car.”’ Light Car Economy Big Car Performance And a woman says: ‘You must accept my appreciation of the beautiful Essex Sedan. My means are not unlimited, but I do love distinction in whatever I possess. For me the Essex sup plied the sort of car luxury I had longed for, but which was too costly an indulgence before the Essex was put out. It has been most economical to run. I feel the utmost pride in it. It holds its own in good looks and quality even when parked with the expensive cars of some of my friends. It never gives the least trouble, and my family cherish an affection for it quite as loyal as its behavior has been.”’ It is What 45,000 Find These letters are typical. Others are more ex- ceptional. For instance, tire service as high as 29,500 miles and fuel mileage up to 24 miles pet gallon are reported. They, of course, are not average cases. Yet they fairly indicate the unu sual economy of Essex in all these items. And Essex noted performance abilities are exclusive, because the Essex motor, which made possible all it has done, is patented, and non but Essex can use it. Other cars its weight and size cost as much as Essex. But none has ever equalled what it has done.

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THE SATURDAY Continued from Page 107) will in the long run—the best elf under the conditions. ourself the only profit you umer’s profit. You'll give as you for your wages What a Famous Author Said _ |i: jrije'ver Sn tr var pe About Smokers 0 tie ne ia ie con »wadays mat can ju con aid, ‘‘seems to be 1, especially when .”’ he said, think- lifferent from those t it’s forced on yhow.” said. “How?” and their leaders ther work out, or for them, some plar , which every man ng for himself, the way he tead of being put into a posi- of having to make a con- for themselves by giving ver the least pos ible produc ) tand for, based on the output of the least-capable workman in the bunch.” tion he will Put Yourself in His Place “There's something in that, probably,” iid to him the chief business problem, in my . me, “‘in the world Vashington, as far as > rearrangement Is In any change in your government clerks at that,”’ he went on, “‘we it might be a good deal inswered get er thusiastic or ambi- r work of uming, of { You'll see that ! ome laces in the Government if ially in the departments con money. uu watcl espe where the great big money i ‘Where is that?” L asked him the place you were talking about tarted—the part of the Govern- five per cent of the pent. sus branches of war expendi- You take the ambitious fellows in ind Navy departments,”’ he ‘ut yourself in the the e government clerk I find, to figure out | put m elf iT ™

r plac place yourself in the yourself you ler uppose acommar too much,” I told him ir military or iving expense 3, guaranteed for life d, you've got no As a matter of ibout money experier the a young boy never developed, and what ver develops. just a were you re I said if you're worth something to profit i ng for what you ome wort . T broke ven't got that omet hing e m to live for.”’ profit be, naturally, EVENING POST life. And war. And it’s like saving a man’s What’s money compared to that? what’s a billion or two 53 “Between the War and Navy depart- ments and Congress,”’ I broke in. “Precisely,” he said. ‘‘And the more ambitious and more enthusiastic and more excited the military establishments are over their work the more of your money they’re going to dump into war—if the; can get it. And when it’ it’s gone, consumed, if know that—as far as ar duction is concerned. **And it’s Just the same a Washington—-not only in Navy departments but in with the men enthusiastic over get out of the usu: building up what t that way it hast the I about the factory whi town of ultimate cor 1eir aim just the opposite from ours. It’s got to be. Their aim is consuming. Ours is produc- ing—-or ought to be. And in both cases it’s perfectly natural. They are just ourselves upside down—moving backward.” He stopped for a little while, looking off, before he turned and looked at me. “*Do you drive your own car?” he asked me then, “or do you hire a driver?” “T drive my own,” I told him. ‘Well, now suppose,” he said, “that you started the morning and found, when you thought you were in high, that you were in reverse; and the more you gave her the gas the faster she went back- ward.” “That’s a fine thought,” I said. “Well, that’s the Government, that’s Washington, as I figure it out, compared to us. Everything works exactly backward They’ve got human nature geared in re- verse. You take yourself and myself, and the folks who preceded us and broke in this continent; we were bred and reared —we had to be-—-on the one old-fashioned, ugly recipe for life. ‘Root hog or die,’ we used to call it when I was a boy. They’ve got a fancy name for it now, like most thing they call it ‘the survival of the fittest, which isn’t always so exact in my mind, except in a general way, as our old motto, which was nothing more or less, I take it, than ‘produce or starve.’ It wasn’t sé pretty a motto to talk about or preach ser mons from or make political promises with or hang up on the parlor wall as some, but it had one great advantage— it was aimed, in my opinion, in the right direction It did produce It was ugly and it worked out some ugly, unjust things But one thing you could always say about it—-wher it was working right it harnessed up human nature so it produced. When ordinary hu man nature was hitched up in tha the best in it, and the worst in . pulled in one direction—it pulled toward produc s invested in war anything is Ou y use for any pro- them, men who ge government work l rut and get stror like these, the ney re intere first lace les sumers out in too. tion.” Hitched Up Tail First “IT don't admire some of the things that happened under it,” he went on. “It crude and raw and undeveloped l But sonally | always belie believe now, that it was working right direction; and that when we finally perfected we could show any profit for producing anything from a to a picture or a poem or a psaim tune; that we'd all go along our way wherever we were headed for—} and more contented because we were producing per- feeling per, appie something of our own and getting some sonal ion for doing so and that personally were doing something the world at the ea and general feeling recognit we same I prompted him when he ‘in Washington Pe t or any other govern- he answered, “‘there’s just one with all their talking and all their promising and all their criticism a lot of it perfect of the way we work ‘ tney ? t stopped, mental thir main trouble il ton, justified been a id forward i best of it, as 1 got to. way you're harnessed up. The hitched backward the f you do go ahead a little by main strength and awkwardness you go backing into August 7,1920 up, at a snail’s pace; whereas if you give your horse his head, let him take his iral the way got him har- nessed, you find yourself going at a trot, neck forward, into the ditch. “T’ve watched them—I’ve heard this thing— Washington, government owner- ship, socialism, whatever you choose to call it—-talked in one form or another for the past fifty years. I've had a lot of the a lot of ipathy with some of the thir they were t nat- course you've I nev work out inside ing to do. er believed nk it woul , ever; real the real ill | went down there to and idea of the thing Vashington thi and got the clew to i Saw it work 2” T sai of the sumer’s again. The Brass Generals “Did you get any other clew,”’ I asked him then, lille you were down there * he said, kind of wak- asked hin “Tt was on th | about in the begi place where all the billions treasury go now.” was that? ernment “What again. “Brass generals,”’ he to And I sat and waited “When you look round anywhere,” he went on then, > What clew you see. é single feature of the I I call gy he answe red himsel brass hobby! orses, looking at shrubbery at the end of every road you look down in Washingtor a general.” “Well, what of it?” I< “Well,” he answered, re pretty apt to put up their heir heroes the ones the. admire.” ‘I suppose they are “And you dor fe llow 5 ] ke \ iits, ending 1 ‘So that’s y “Yes nan government ld anybody t down here ear enough } nanagement \ luman nature yrofit all round, And thet } long f } i r any with the 1! power there —the ay } Every |} I \ howeve ut now for one incially aw record fo I test time or Imnpt ( ump money t And last war they ‘ “Yes,” I said; Continued on Page 113) got it “and are getting it

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es } 4 ¢ / j 10 ‘ q

Continued from Page 110 wonder there,’ he said then. ‘‘ You'd tk

genera looking down the | w vou that too.” ) ‘How many Presidents did this country elect from 1865 to 1904— more than a ger eration after the ¢ War—who were not ( Mcere?

Ar | nat iralls enough, too, ar d ’ , ¢

not to ? t | ( readit Gratitude 1or having your life saved is not exactly an unbecoming trait or unnatural one for either a man ¢ inatio At the same time t doesn’t licate r great intention of closing up a war—ma g being an officer n a war almo 1 requisite for being a candidate for the Presidency, as they did A general isn’t exactly the | choose to close up a war, ind the whole thing shows pretty clearly the state of mind following a war—not onlv

in the country at large

m to sort his memort Che fact of the matter is,”” he continued finally, ‘it’s all plain enough when you stop to look at it Thev talk about the country getting control of Washington and its bus ness methods now. In wartimes it’s Wash ngton that take control of the country and its business and starts it going upside down, along its own methods of operation.

It got to be Yo ‘an't get round It put ir cost-plus schemes,” ] told him, “and ill th se automatic device Sor turuine om the fannclal faucet and lanv- ng it running overnight. You're certain]; rht t that It’s got the } ¢ nd labor it of the : hoth atar the head Ss for mers oe » fam thane « un er’s prof 1 it wu hit it there. S¢ Lt. that he gist of the thir } for nothing never was so ve 1 ilar for the men or natior who thought they were making it. ‘Not so you'd notice it,”” I said. ; n enough what happens after idful cost to life and li But the drea

a war. we can all dispense with.

cost to the United States Treasury isn’t so unpopular with those who are getting the benefit of it as it might be. You can’t ex pect our friends with shipbuilding cor tracts or employment at shipbuildi it} big wage under the SI pping Board the

Department or the War Depart get it and holler for somebody, off all the unnecessary war expend t once, can you?’

more thar you did the Northern * the veterans of the Civil tinst the increase of tariff ons in their time

plenty willing to

rs of war. They re a strong party politic lly, too, take them all together. And they're not averse to having the country operated upside dowr on a Washington war basis as long as they

persona happer to be on top. That good sound working ( But there one hope t on, “about w *s coming after this war

{ at came after the Civil compared to

“Our finances are so much worse off now here and everywhere else that it will be hetter, a way, anyhow. ‘Better?” I said after him. “ee e answered me. ‘‘ We won’t have o long a yhow. We can’t go on indef ng politics with our lid after the Civil War. We haven’t got as much financial slack to

play witl We've got to deci where we're § g, one wa r the other, before long I looked at him until he was re to know probabl he said, “that Civil W i e over they had reneral stra on their finances a . taking the world over now—no

ae re You've brought , another “Nor here either. Not in our national income and finances You'll hear people

ay it was as much of a financial strain on Sut I can’t myself. In fact I know better. They never had a time, when that war was once finished, when their regular ordir ary government income didn’t show them a surplus instead of a great deficit, such as is and has been staring us in the face. And if you'll look it up and figure it out in plain thmetic you'll see that while ur popu lation now is only three and a half times what it was then, your current expenditures for your national Government are running some twelve to fifteen times what they were after the C | War ce no account of gene ral financial conditions, which are set this country then as it is now. | see that

ting the world at large crazy now “T don’t see, if all this is t " T came in, holding him up to what he'd said before, that there is anything hopeful in it

Lt | i compared to the tir following the Civil War.” “There is we've got to do we can't go along i fini ities with the growing in¢ which was bigger t come now-—after this war clear-cut issue, which we've “What’s that?’

rn y which is being drawn over all the civilized world.” ' *What’sthat?’’ laskedagain. ‘‘Whether

the various governments are going to bu 1 With their waste

all the nations of the ear and extravagance? “It’s gone further than that now,”’ he told me. | looked at him as he went on. ‘It’s whether government i going to run the earth, as it has been these last few

years, or whether we're going to take hold

knew that the go wa mighty bad to hz wal had been, in the But then this war came ‘Vou” 1 took Vay Back to the Main Issue It make me laugh,” he went on, ‘sometimes, to hear them talking abot reorganizing Washington on business line For the last four years Wa been reorganizing business on its own lines. You know that. Upside down. As con- sumers.”” ington hé

‘Upside down i aid, thir over how ways government compet tion and » had affected my bu ness and ever! y else’s. “Ves id backward,” he went on. “It took the railroads and the shipping and the f d the building tra le knocked ever) n busine to pieces and put it together again on ywn line Showing ¢ eryb diy in tne countr a consumer s pro! t,”’ I said, recalling } ex pre mm. " “Yes, It coulda’t be helped, I suppose, in a way. War always does that to an ex- tent; and this war was so much bigger th any war before it thi | ton got ir everywhere in all « ‘ You could hardly name that it didn’t either manage or influence “Or interfere with or mix up somehow, I chipped in. “And all natural enough under the cir- too, you ve got to remen be P.

cumstances, But that wasn't enough, taking charge of his country, after we'd once got wound up and enthusiastic over our work of mak- ing the biggest and most first-class war of history. Washington had worked out of the limit of the District of Columbia and spread itself all over the map of the United } +

States, and now nothing would do but i

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST the business and the polities ar relations of the world—accordir strongest advocates. We were for a while, to reorganize the w image of Washington “At the expense of the Am payer.” ‘Well, we ought to do our sl} plied, ‘‘and I guess we are willing to, for the world at large. But when you got dow: to it you had to call a halt

there had to be some boundary whers Washington stopped spreading itself and its way of thinking and doing busine over the map of the world. So lately that idea's been rather sub ling. There he« of tendency to withdra hingtor a little from Turkestan ar t alas and Saturn and Aldebaran and some of the

outer edges of the M lk Way and come back home and look at our own busine fora minute. The cold, sordid, vulgar fact was we had to, to keep our own creditor satisfied. We found it a kind of hopel business in the end trying how a cor sumer’s proht to everyt y from the American contractor to the ittermo heathen in a world all remade in the image of Washington. So now we've got bac again to the main issue in most mer lives.” ‘What's that?” “Giving a little thought to our own bu ness Taking inventory of what ass we e got left ourselve and incidenta trying t shove Wa } ngtor back ft tre pied before place or the map that he occu { his war.”’ ‘You’re right there,”’ I said, The Reign of the Spen ‘We'll do it, I believe, fina isn't so easy as you might think for It never has been after other war mater than this. There’s more difficulty in pu ng back Washington and it our affairs when it than there

There's always a plenty after ¢ favor the free, nonproducing, sor nothing life it it’s me the wild o nor these new rs of mar now, who let their hairand thet grow wild and ca t freedor the branch of the something-f boys that amount to much In t! that represent our Amer in} Gat represent more the w tle on t the noise of the exhau he of that machine are made rts, from the king of finance Street and his investors, who government profits and now war

1d m yto out there,

orld in the erican tax are,”” he re omew here; ders

1 war who ething-for ne ¢ nad we om

ye! ‘ e eng ‘ ’ f < i 1 e in Wa e bet t 1

support for their railroad » I Ash / laborand! crowd Who \ I the hippy Board's wage on in ¢ciré or he SAFETEI AP ( " Washington on the map of the United } ' State yperating our general busine f is and distributing the taxpayer ne incidentally while doing it, are not theor ! ( alist he re good, pract ( tions of their own. Their motto isn’t so much ‘ Workingmen, unite ou have not ng to jose but yourchair asitis‘Friends, | nment pear to the bu n our the the mere \A n-

‘ aw him stop and grin. ere's one way you won't do it,” he “What's that?” (Concluded on Page 116 big Safete desired

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Page 120

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST

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THE SATURDAY of this to live for? and commit of ex- are yelling Concluded from Page 113 t r the | hey you per smile te t's « j ny ‘ " » themselves out papers trade are resolving that lo it so that we can have ble methods of doing busi- new ngtor h?” I said It pretty good sound A budget bill’s a good I some ractical nave one a budget in pr ngtor for some year fact is—that the that we "t top now to to reform itself, for pots.” country for Was} ongre to cha it Why not?” ‘*We haven't got time to,”’ he told me. “That's the short of it. Not now. It’s no to and reorganize the fire depart- Cal ngtor time ment when there's a fire r ‘Well d him what is there to do then?” Begin Reforming at Home my real opinion,” we t ill apprehet beer on on ‘ cor i from whi e got to start ta different point from whi ad an ng about reforming methods.” "ve overlooked really been re or four year I admitted different point l sel ve back vain ( t ! i ill be time enough to then iingtor Dread of a Budget got to get bach You've got to 1 my expressing myself 1 and common, do you,” he for all of t thing laying the hog.” +} } sh 1 you come down to We've iin trouble,” he sai When ince this war become of the more ot EVENING POST ndividually t the hog congressi¢ bankers’ associations, Dy by trade organizations, by and soldiers and sailors’ relief corps ong as the government money wa mal distric boards of tr: labor unions As being ) ] handed out and the other fellow was getting his, why t t ours? That’s been And sit round passing resolutions and houldn’t we he spirit of the country since the war I we weeping and cursing Congress for not letting up on the government expenditures and our taxes.” ‘Ther I said “As lo live on Washington * appropriations—by tries and hand out *s what it’s en that,” xious to ectior or classe r indu long Was} what we ask for built and operated and just so ington will smile After all, that supported for—to represent u ‘Yes.”” ‘And as long as we urge it to, it will Vil Keep own ght on organizing the country— on its lines.”’ ‘As consumers of government money? es Handing out the billion ( uming without producing an equivalent } auiway on- exper ines om he re pet was marked, ‘‘¢ inents, when you do it by lately.” cont here | Washington la again, where on, the ¥ overn The expenses, they made in ome there me, tl avings that could be Government’ District of Columbia, are just smal inge to what | from the tions Which the Government expenditures inside of ! | could be made hangover from him before the cour try war expenditures and the refunding ol ( i we could only War expendl the finance { no time.” gured ”” he incidentally we'd have usiness of the countr’ a 7 ad of standing on its on sty eal put ‘Yes,”” he uid auceing again more head, Wash- in, grinning 1, looking off. “‘ Back pr than it consumes— of August 7,1920 the stuff it really needs, for peace and not for war.” “And after that?” I asked “After that after we got Washington out of organizing our business for us,”’ he aid, ‘we might come down here and start that other job of reorganizing here—as far .’ I answered, ‘‘that’s what every- ‘d be glad to see, | guess . ‘Everybody that’s paying out taxes or common anybody who enough to know you can’t lift your- by your boot straps over the moon.” sense; One Practical Handle Sut how are we going at all this, prac- ?”’ T asked him. “‘What have we hold of down there in Wash- ‘There’s one practical handle, I think, we might hope to get hold of.” ‘Not Cor gre 7 ‘No yt when you can put the fear your individual con- man now and then.” the national politicians? ll be two sets of those, appar- one hollering for something-for- 1 hollering for for the 9” boys and the other who pay it made by what they propose to hand othem. But you can’t what either side will do when Pol ians’ promises things to tie thing rest of us, have to Owe! ain't , ll, then, where shall we go to?’ just one natural place to get iong this line il you are going to them.” *Where?”’ ‘Where is the one p would it be? Where, after all, you can get hold of h has the im the one, In lace where the one figure in Government whicl power of doing or hav one job, which alway { we any mal wing of fir e whole ng done for } } the problem together aw ‘ } t Men he need i. my ‘If he hasn’t, he’s the the countrs Amer ter got a majority of him—the gre: ni of and disg wasted ’ an people, who " with having their mor } 1 +} taxes Increased and the and ‘Ir expenses inflated and the ide down and run backward by this infer combination of war and Washington. If you came out now to a straight vote o »sul t, you could probably get a three-quarters vote of the country for putting Washington and Washington methods back again into the District of Columbia, in my opinion,” he said aid, r business turned up ‘In mine too.” ‘And more than that job was done—if the executive, the man at the head of the country, really wanted it he could force through some real practic method of estimating and controlling ou expenditures and outgo from the Federal Government. Instead of being organized by Washington ourselves we could go dow: in there and reorganize it finally —as far a considering what it i when that first it ean be organized, But that all depends of course. ‘Depends on what?” “On one thing—it’s just a question nov of how much the ordinary common-sen voters of the country, the men in ordinary business clothes like you and me, are abl to impress on the man they elect President That Was! standing us on our ’s got to get dowr that this has got ington’s got to heads and this country to business, both privately and publicly, or there'll be trouble “Which there certainly will be “Tf the to be done stop American people in general,” said my man, “could only be told, could only understand Washington the way it really works and what's got to be done, there wouldn’t be any question about it about Washington's getting out of our bu ness and our getting down there and taking control of Washington. There wouldn't be any doubt of it if the country only realized the facts as they are “T wish I could holler them loud enoug! I said, “so that every voter in the country could hear me.’

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SATURDAY EVENING POST 1 LL eeres "+ FLORER cherasicys all With an intense, blue flame, odorless, smokeless, close up under the cooking. More Heat—Less Care HE Florence Oil Cook Stove’ the chimney and touch a lighted gives quick and intense heat match to the asbestos kindler—in for roasting and bread-baking; a few minutes you get an intense, medium heat for ordinary cook clean, hot, blue flame right under ing; and a slow, simmering heat the cooking. The heat goes into the \ | for a stew or the soup pot. Point cooking and not into the kitchen. the lever handle to the proper place The Florence Oil Cook Stove is on the indicator dial and the flame easy to use—easy to keep clean. automatically adjusts itself. It This sturdy stove burns kerosen will burn steadily as long as the a cheap and clean fuel. \ oil lasts. More Heat—Less Care. That The Florence burner is the most is the story of the Florence Oil A practical burner made. Just raise Cook Stove. 4 Ask your dealer to explain the comforts and economie 1 Florence-equipped oil kitchen. Every Florence fully guaranteed. Write for free copy of illustrated booklet e > - | M Ore H eat \ CENTRAL OIL & GAS STOVE COMPANY 342 School St., Gardner, Mass. + |i) l " os - Makers of Florence Oil Cook Stoves (1, 2, 3, 4, and 5 burners), } })) ail e om he & al e Tank Water Heaters, Florence Portable Ovens, Florence Oil H Made and sold in Canada by M‘Clary$, London, Canada

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST August 7,1920 thee ‘ UME ange NP Hc " MN ec ih lil ne do ns pe , ey tas 4, emmy ere ————— a 4 EE SS wets The Eden Washes Everything heavy, grime-stiff working clothes bulky woolen blankets, lace curtains household linens, dainty garments, fin laces, children’s hand-made frocks. The Eden method of gently dipping clothe up and down in warm suds makes things last many times as long as when scrubbed out on the washboard. Send for our book, “An Eden in the Home Illustrated in colors Free on request lepression at the bottom of the tub is the The Eden driving mechanism is fully and safely len Sediment Zone—quiet water which traps enclosed in a sufficient amount of lubricant to do lirt and makes Eden-washed things cleaner away with all need of mussy oiling for years. Dae wit RR PPT " je oft i i] j j . men Ta sty { ii! ‘ yt vifl bl Mail - Malthe at willl, HI oll hath Mall i al " d HT Nh Hit . wil itt Tae | ETT that Ue rik.

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Te Le Washes with- Rae

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 111 Ai i il ie aii ig ig iN lS FPA TRY,

No matter how black with grease and coal soot clothes may be, the Eden cleanses them spotlessly and. carefully with its gentle yet persistent dipping through good, hot soap-suds, in its roomy, light zinc cylinder. The engineer, and those men whose profes- The engineer, the mechanic, chooses the Eden sions require an abundance of clean clothes, because he recognizes its superior construction, takes away from his wife that little secret dread its simplicity, and its safety for his home of his home-coming when he gives her an Eden Those who have seen their clothes which were to do that heavy work of washing his labor- stiff with grease and dirt come out of the Eden soiled suits. immaculate, know that The Sediment Zo kes thi lly cl As soot, cinders, dust and dirt are flushed out of the necessary to the purity and cleanliness of the clothes as clothes, the Sediment Zone traps all these foreign the soap and water themselvi particles and they cannot re-enter the washing cylinder. An Eden dealer will be glad to point out the mechanical This continuous dirt-elimination keeps the water clean advantages ot the Eden in a free demonstration. Thi ind free from floating sediment. The Sediment Zone easy-payment plan gives every home an opportunity t is a feature belonging exclusively to the Eden, and is as buy if they like and pay as they sav GILLESPIE EDEN CORPORATION New ) ; Armco rust-resisting iron is used im the Eden ~T Pe Ar Ree Fea ie | e CN TS PS eae 2 r “aay

The Eden Automatic Clutch releases the motor The Safety Interlocking Swinging Wringer ha It innot swit

if the washer or wringer is overloaded and five convenie locked positions prevents burnt-out motor and blown-out fuses when wringing or wring wl 4 Pasenass fe den safety devi WAN Ory Petre rT Ty ehh eet he Onis: yes txt ar os # pas yum ‘exe; cht tet natant < i) ITE ee ee ie yes tif yr cea lei ti li

TUT ‘ Vithial il tlk fll ie

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST August 7,1920 Southern Pine Creosoted Products White Pine Standardized Woodwork Hardwoods STRENGT Southern pine trees grow slowly, but they grow exceedingly well—hence their strength. And thus must an industry grow if it would become strong. ‘The pine adds its annular rings of strength year by year. An industry must painstak- ingly strive for a better product day by day. Every WMprovement bs added strength. Lumber products that could command at- tention because of wviform high quality has been the ambition of The Long-Bell Lumber Company since it embarked in business nearly half a century ago. Ruyers of its products can best judge whether or not it has succeeded. Asa gutde to consumers this company’s Lumber and ‘Vimbers bear this trade-marked brand: [OnG-ReLL I THE MARK ON QUALITY umber ASK YOUR DEALER FOR LONG-BELL BRAND The pepenels. Lumber Company moe. t A.LONG BUILDING Lumbermen since 1875 FEANSAS SS ne OU EPMO ON Ses QMO? BVI ; LAOVBONE Southern Pine Lumber ar Timber yX1 osot Lumber, Th s, Pos Poles, Ties, Piling and 1 Bk Cahitornia White P; ne ny oo — Standardiz Wenaneies Cake Reel ber, Oak Flooring, Gum. ae i

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| L Ear Marks N A WORLD full of people, all more or less human, there are no two entirely alike, and yet all are marked by physical peculiarities that set them apart in well-defined groups. One may be a skeptic concerning the meaning of cranial bumps, and yet profit by unfortunate dealings with a man too narrow between the eyes. The shape of the head and the design of its front eleva- tion do not afford infallible data by which to judge char- acter, for some of the finest men in the known world have faces that would earn them a life term before the average jury, despite counsel and evidence. Yet certain general rules are verified in so many instances that one may accept them as readily as he accepts rules laid down for guidance in other matters. There is the wide close-lipped mouth peculiar to catfish and orators, the dainty bud mouth conferred by Nature as a substitute for brains, the tight mouth denoting sur- passing love of a nickel and the owner’s opinions, the loose mouth that confesses lack of wit or a recent drink of patent medicine, the unfirm mouth that means lack of character or lack of teeth, and the foul mouth that invites the appli- cation of a club. Chins are eloquent. The one that slopes back at a sharp angle to meet the Adam’s apple may be Teutonic, and in that case means no more than a willingness to sink without trace. In the Anglo-Saxon chins of this type advertise the fact that one may step on the owner’s toes without the necessity of dodging a left hook. The long chin squared at the end denotes firmness in the matter of accepting treaties as they are written and things of that sort. The sharp chin, usually feminine, indicates abnormal interest in the affairs of the neighbors. Eyes that sit close together in a chummy sort of way may mean that the owner can’t see far beyond the end of his nose, or they may warn the world to watch its purse. Eyes that shift about when under observation proclaim the coward or the sneak or the habitual liar, while eyes that scrutinize the third button of your waistcoat while their owner is conversing with you indicate that he is a mild crook or that there is a drop of egg on your waistcoat. The high forehead affords evidence of storage capacity for brains, but does not always indicate that the premises are occupied. This characteristic is without value in the case of the bald man whose forehead goes over the top without meeting any resistance until the objective is reached at the nape of the neck. The large and rugged nose denotes a domineering char- acter; the sharp nose confesses relationship to the fox; the very flat nose informs us that it has been thrust once too often into the affairs of other people; the perfect nose that appears to have been cut from marble promises a job in the movies if backed by eyes closely resembling those of a cow. Ears that lie close to the head may be accepted as proof that the wearer keeps his own secrets and has several that should be kept. There was once a general belief that the ear without a lower lobe confessed the thief, but this theory was aban- doned when people with normal ears began to gouge the Government for war supplies. The ear that is warped and twisted as though afflicted with cramp colic has at some period of its existence come into violent contact with a three-ounce glove. Large sail-like ears boldly snapping in the passing breeze are evidence of frankness and a minimum of regard for the personal opinion of the world concerning the owner. However, it must be remembered that these interpre- tations are general and do not apply in particular cases unless they are complimentary. Discretion is the better part of phrenology. Town and Country \ HY isacity? Can it be that enjoyment of crowds is an instinct inherited from a day when man did not walk on his hind legs and traveled in packs as a necessary precaution against the giant Carnivora that sought him for lunch? Men hate one another, conspire against one another, envy one another. Surely it is not love that herds them together in cities—not love of one another. Love of money perhaps—of luxury, excitement, ease. Persons who have more money than is required for the purchase of necessities buy luxuries. Abundance of money brings an urgent demand for unnecessary commodities, The demand for luxuries brings factories for the production of luxuries, and the factories create a demand for labor. When the demand for luxuries is greater than usual the demand for laborers to produce luxuries becomes greater than usual. Unusual demand for laborers increases wages, and thus the manufacturers of unnecessary commodities draw into their employ men formerly engaged at a smaller wage in the production of necessities. Thus we have cities, and thus we have a wail of distress from farmers. The farm boy goes to town. Perhaps his sire goes also. Getting out of bed at four o'clock in the morning to milk and feed by the light of a smoky lantern and toiling until after sunset in order to get a living does not appeal to one who knows that he can move to town and earn—or at least get—one dollar an hour and work but eight hours in each twenty-four. The farm boy goes to town, and the acres he tilled grow rank with weeds One engaged in the business of manufacturing luxuries makes a greater profit than one engaged in the business of producing something to eat. American farms produce food enough for America and a great surplus for export. A surplus, whether of food or silk, means low prices. The days of food surplus are drawing near an end. The farmer can no longer find laborers. He cannot till his fields alone. And this fat and luxury-loving country of ours, little as it may realize the fact, is about to make the acquaintance of an empty cupboard. This condition does not spell disaster, but only an urge to adjustment. People will eat. There will be sale for bread when luxuries are a drug on the market. When the day comes that food is hard to find, American appetites will bid against one another for a square meal. Prices of farm products will soar; men in quest of greater profit will quit the luxury-making factories and renew their acquaintance with the plow handles, and food will again become plentiful. Men work in towns because town wages are higher. When the farmer outbids the manufacturer he will get what labor he needs. He will pay the price, and those who eat will repay him and add a profit Back-to-the-farm talk will fall on deaf ears until the farms let money do their talking. When love of money draws men back to the farms, do not doubt that love of eats will assure the farmer a profit. Justice HE land is full of reformers and philanthropists who have espoused the cause of society’s enemies and are embarked on a crusade to give jails and penitentiaries a refined and homelike atmosphere and brighten the lives of the guilty, but there are none to plead the cause of the innocent. One who is accused of crime is not a criminal. In our theory of jurisprudence he is innocent until a jury has weighed the evidence against him and found him guilty. As an innocent man he is entitled to every courtesy and consideration granted innocent men who have not been accused of crime. If the mere fact that he has been ac- cused makes him less worthy in our sight we have not come far since the day of witch burning The state concedes that he is innocent until proved guilty, but having evidence that makes his guilt seem probable insists that he shall be locked in jail or shall furnish a reasonable bond for his appearance in court to stand trial. This arrangement is fair and necessary. Let us suppose that his trial has come to an end, that the state has been unable to sustain its charge against him, and that the jury has found him innocent. When the state sets him at liberty or returns his bond has it done its full duty? Does it owe him nothing? If one carries a club with which to spoil the countenance of an enemy and while thus armed comes upon a friend who is very like the enemy in appearance, and, being deceived by this resemblance, swings the club against the friend’s ear, will he smile blandly when the friend regains consciousness, and say to him: “I thought you were my enemy. I was mistaken. You may go now”? Will he do no more than that? Citizens are the state. If the state, acting for each and all of its citizens, accuses one unjustly and thereby causes him loss of time and money—a loss for which it offers no compensation—has it not warped the meaning of justice and become in some measure a tyrant? While shedding tears over the hard lot of the thief who was convicted and sent to jail because he wronged society, why not squeeze out one or two more for the man who was accused of theft, found innocent, and yet put to consider- able expense to defend his honor and his liberty? If there should be punishment for the guilty who wrong society, should there not be recompense for the innocent whom society wrongs? THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 121 “LOW By ROBERT QUILLEN LURE Addition by Subtraction NCE upon a time there was a man who had a large appetite and a waistline that pre ceded him and served as an advance guard. A wicked king had him locked in a room containing one small window, and by way of torture had a feast spread on a table just outside this opening. After a time the prisoner became very hungry and tried to climb through the window. His head and shoulders went through with out difficulty, but the circumference of his equator was greater than the breadth of the window, and he did not progress beyond the north temperate zone. Day by day he hungered and struggled to get through the window, and day by day privation reduced his girth, until at length he was able to squeeze through and fall upon the victuals that had so long tantalized him The moral is that one in de perate straits may add by means of subtraction, and that a dollar will go farther when it travels in slower company Nearly all men are homesteaders. They wish to stay put. One grows accustomed to a certain country, a cer- tain neighborhood, a certain house and certain friends. These become a horizon One's little world becomes the universe, and the thought of emigrating is but little less distressing than the thought of suicide Desperate situations require desperate action, how- ever, and one whose income is fixed and therefore halved by the fall of the dollar must swallow his pride or save his pride and forgo the pleasure of swallowing other and more substantial things. One who cannot enlarge his income can at least make it seem larger The wealthy can sell a few cars and fire a few servants; the well-to-do can move from ten rooms to four; the poor can get along with four cylinders instead of six and wear cotton shirts in place of si In every town in which there is a shortage of house there are vacant houses. They are vacant because they do not appeal to vanity. ‘The person next door sits on the front porch in his undershirt, and there is no place to keep the car One bent on living down to his income need not search for palaces. In time of siege people are very grateful for mule steak and similar delicacies As with houses, so with food, clothing, amusements. If the purse will not fit a standard of living, the standard of living may be trimmed to fit the purse One who complains that the profiteers are about to get him and continues to play into their hands by living in his accustomed way regardless of the cost deserves little sympathy. He may at his pleasure trick the profiteer and get double action for his money. If his purse is flat the fault is his own. The money spent during one month to feed his pride would feed his family during many months. There is no salvation without sacrifice, and when one purposes sacrifice a foolish pride is the first article thrown overboard Persons who spent the whole of their incomes back in the days when a dollar was worth a dollar are not seriously affected by the rise in prices. They were perennially broke then; they are consistently broke now. What matter the purchasing power of a dollar if one is determined to be quit of it? Persons who saved in the old days may save still if they will. All that is necessary is to pull pride out by the root disregard the opinions of the neighbors and continue fattening the account in the savings bank at the estab- lished rate. The sum left to be spent will not go so far as it once did, but it may be stretched. The fact that thousand of families live comfortably on twenty-five dollars a wee proves that millions can if they will. If they are 1 willing to make the sacrifice in order to hasten the retur of normal times they deserve the little hardships that 1 afflict them. The encouraging thing about abnormal times is the f that they are abnormal. One has reasonable hope t! they cannot long endure The dollar that is spent is worth much | t former value, but a dollar that is saved one hundred cents, prewar purchasing power, and ¢ the same old rate of interest. One may live up to his income and the of | friends and torment his soul by wondering he is coming to, or he may determine to g¢ ! main lean until the world recovers from its debauch, and prepare himself for residence on Easy Street when a dollar has regained its former vi; The feast is just outside the window, but neither wishing nor complaining will bring it nearer, One ist reduce | nt ee with hard iD girth and establish a nodding acquaint if he would better his fortune A dollar that is ashamed to look a silk shir presence of madra in the face appears at ease in

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST August 7,1920 See ee SE EEE “The true Question is— ; not what we gain, but what we do | N motor car building, as in all other human activity, it is the end attained that counts. Tomorrow is the test of today. Peerless Motor Cars are made to- day for a thousand tomorrows. They are our representatives be- fore the world, expressing our desires, our ideals, our principles. We gain only as they serve. We succeed only as they endure. Coupé $3920 THE PEERLESS F. O, B. CLEVELAND MOTOR CAR COMPANY + CLEVELAND, — IS nothing startling or sensational about this philosophy of business; nor is it exceptionally idealistic. It is fun- damentally, constructively _prac- tical. Because of it, more people every year become Peerless Cars. Because of it, Peer- less owners feel a higher satisfac- Touring Car $3230 Sedan $4140 owners of Roadster $3200 Subject to change without notice tion and a deeper confidence in their cars. Because of it, the Peerless Two- power-range Eight of today is, ex- cept for certain refinements, essen- tially the same car as the Peerless Two-power-range Eight of 1915. . J For the Peerless of five years ago was built for today, just as the Peerless of today is built for five years hence. Sedan-Limousine $4400

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST » \ » 7 > WF bl % « ty + . ; * 5 4 4 | , ‘ ‘ i ‘ " ' 4 A a ” x 4 ‘ | ( ! 4 “a ' x wh wey & ss PEF > EK ERLES Ad | os aN 2 POWER . e RANGE | 4 | a 7 RANGE it ; ‘ 123

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST @@a GGG _ <p ELECTRI Yes, a cool kitchen, even in August—as cool as any room in the house, because so much of the heat is used for cooking. The Hughes Electric heats the room scarcely at all, because— — there is nothing burning —no combustion—no flame. You turn a button and the unit becomes cherry red; this glowing heater cooks by radiation, the radiant heat is absorbed by the food in the cooking vessels. It's the same in the oven, which is built like a fireless cooker So much for Coolness, but that only begins the story of why you should enjoy a Hughes Electric Range, for this range is also— efficient, doing quickly and well everything that can be done on any type of range economical of your time and economical of food because roasts dry out less, bread keeps moist longer and it eliminates spoilage convenient; turn abutton and you have cooking heat instantly; ditto and the heat is off clean; meaning—the range is clean, the cooking utensils are never smutted; the kitchen floor and walls are clean because there are no fuel, no ashes, no matches, no smoke: the air is not vitiated by combustion, there are no fumes endorsed by leading demestic Economists as the scientific way and by more than 90,000 practical housewives as the medern way to cook. Let us send you a copy of "How to Modernize" and we suggest that you see your Lighting Company about the Hughes Electric Range. EDISON ELECTRIC APPLIANCE CO., INC. CHICAGO New York Ontario, Calif. Atlanta In Canada, Canadian Edison Appliance Co., Ltd., Stratford, Ontario August 7,1920

EDISON News Notes Franklin K. Lane, while Secretary of the Interior, said,** Enough hydro-electric energy is running to waste here in the United States to equal the daily labor of | 800,000,000 men." A considerable part of all the savings of the people of the country is invested in public utilities held by thousands of investors, large and small, as well as in endowment funds of churches, colleges, schools, hospitals and in other trust funds. There is not a country on the globe in which Hotpoint Appliances are not favorably known. Women in Greenland and Iceland use Hot- point irons —a recent shipment went to Nairobi, in the interior of Africa. tis important that your new home be equipped with adequate wall outlets, so that electric table appliances, vacuum cleaners and other labor-saving devices can be easily connected without disturbing the lighting arrangements.

kor the convenience of our customers we maintain the following SERVICE STATIONS Ontario, California Boston, 138 Purchase St St. Louis, 1003 Pine St Portland, 412', Stark St Seattle, Maritime Bldg Chicago, 157 W. Lake St tilanta, 24 Peachtree Arcade Los Angeles, 505 Equitable Bldg New York, 140-142 Sixth Ave Salt Lake City, 147 Regent St San Francisco, 155 New Montgomery St.

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——_—= ———— 1 I really felt when I was holding off the tough in the brewery that my practice in shoot- ing woodpeckers in the schoolhouse did me a great deal of good and gave me a great deal of confidence in my ability to shoot. As I said before, I never cared particu- larly about public office, and though I al ways did everything I could to advance my cause after I became a candidate, I was never anxious to be a candidate, and in every instance something happened that seemed to me to make it necessary to enter into the various political contests in which I have participated. I was nominated for prosecuting attorney, my first officeholding job, without any particular effort on my part and without any great desire to hold the office. The nomination was not con- sidered very desirable, because it was in a district where my party was in the minor ity. Though I campaigned as hard as I knew how, I had no particular desire for the place I was nominated for Congress in the sume way, in a district in which my party was in the minority. I came to the House of Representatives a bitter partisan. Since I have been in publie life I have lost practically all my partisanship. I believed at first that the salvation of the country depended upon my party’s success, but I soon learned when I got into the House that many of the ful men in public life were the most subser- vient to special interests. I found there was not much difference between the Demo- cratic Party and the Republican Party in a great many respects. The machine held sway in both of them. apparently most success Kicking Over the Traces I soon got in bad with my party leaders. I had not been there long until I rebelled against some of the unwritten regulations that governed party regularity. I had not been there long until my state adopted the primary system of nominations. Had this not been done I would not have served in the House more than two terms, but the very opposition of some of my own party leaders made me anxious to be returned, even though I did not like the life or the work. I soon found that in order to get patronage it was necessary to be good. During eight years of service, when my party was in control, I was never allowed any patronage, even to the extent of a page. My service began before the House rules were liberalized. It was at a time when the speaker’s rule was supreme. The greatest ambition of every member was to get good committee assignments. Com- mittee assignments meant much more then than they do now Members were sup posed to serve for at least a term before they took any active part in legislative matters. Everyone was anxious for his own political life’s sake to please the speaker. it in his power, under any to give prominence to any member or to start him on the downward path to sure defeat, so that new members particularly were expected as a matter of course to be absolutely subservient. Being a convinced and intense partisan, I made no objection to this until it seemed to me demands were being made to control the conscientious convictions of men and to cause them to do things absolutely con trary to what they believed to be the best interests of the country. As I saw it, a The spe circumstances THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Al SENATOR’S STORY (Concluded from Page 23 man’s freedom was entirely bound, and he placed his political life and political con- science in the hands of those who were in control—a very small body of men, headed by the speaker himself. Without regard to any question involved, or the honesty of the intentions of these men, this was so con trary to my conscience that I soon became rebellious, and I had not been there long until it began to crop out. The first session I was there had gone along to the day before Washington's Birthday, when the Democratic leader made a motion that on the succeeding day Was! ington’s Farewell Address should be read and that the House should then stand adjourned in honor of the memory of George Washington. The Republican leader bitterly contested this motion. Both leaders made very partisan speeches. To me it seemed like a sham battle. It seemed to me it was not of any very great importance whether the House remained in session on Wash ington’s Birthday, or whether it adjourned in his honor. Since we did not have any very pressing business, I thought it would be well to adjourn, and I was therefore in favor of the motion made by the minority leader. I was convinced that at most it was nothing but asham battle. The two leaders were training their soldiers for real contests by exercising their power, and training their men in obedience in a sham contest. The question was decided by a standing vote. The Democratic side of the House rose in mass to be counted in favor of the motion, and I exercised courage enough to vote my conscientious convictions, and stood up on the Republican side I was all alone. I knew that every eye was turned on me, and that I was regarded as a renegade, not only by my Republican colleagues, but by most of the Democrats as well. It was exceedingly humiliating to me. I was very much embarrassed, and it required all the courage I could muster to stand up and be counted in the face of the terrible scrutiny with which I was regarded. The Republicans were in the majority, and so the motion was defeated. I felt I was really out of place, and that everybody was looking at me crosswise, cussing me under his breath. I walked out into the cloak room. Sitting there smoking a cigar was one of the Republican leaders. We were all alone He said: ‘‘ Young man, didn’t I see you voting with the Democrats?” and with hu- miliation and meekness I answered in the affirmative. A Scolding From a Colleague “Well,” he said, “if you expect to stay here you might as well learn now as any time that you must always follow your leader. Your life here will be short indeed unless you take this course.” He continued to lambaste me, and I con tinued to take it in silence. I was not con- vinced that he was right. I was more determined than ever that I had done the right thing. I would not have changed my course for a lifetime of service in the House, but yet I could hardly muster sufficient courage to answer him. When I did it was with all the vehemence I was able to com- mand. I used language to this leader that would not look well in print, and I frankly told him that all that was being done to humiliate me only made me the more de termined, and though I might be defeated and might be a one-termer, I was going to be my own boss while I was there He immediately changed, and said: “I do not want you to be offended. I am only speaking for your own benefit. I may have been too outspoken and too severe, but | am thinking of you and your future career I have been here a good many years, and I have seen a great many men try to buck the machine. They always fail, not only here, but they fail of re®*lection at home You cannot get a good committee assign ment — you cannot get anything in the 1 of patronage, unless you fall in with the machine. My advice is to do that, and do it at once. I am speaking for your benetit more than anything else.” He undoubtedly told the truth, but it had no effect on me. The next day when I came to the House I was still embarrassed, and | thought I would get out and go over to the Senate. When I got over to the other end of the ¢ ‘apit 1 I found the Senate adjourned. Upon inquiry I discovered that George Washington's Farewell Address had been read in the Senate, and upon a motior of a Republican —the Republicans were : in control of the Senate —the Senate had ad journed in honor of the memory of George Washington. This helped me a great deal I realized then that what was treason to my party in one end of the Capitol was entirely loyal in the other. A Surprising Proposal When I went to the House of Representa tives I expected to try to stay only two years. I never would have been a candi date for another election had it not been for the opposition of th same machine. It did seem, however, that a man could not retain his own self-respect and refuse to figat it out. I had no ambition to come to the Senate I would never have been a candidate for the Senate had it not been for an incident that happened while I was serving my last term in the House. It was near the begin ning of this term, when a resident from my state whom I had known for years to be connected with one of the leading railroads of the country came to Washington and called on me. I knew, especially after my first two campaigns, that I had never had the support of the men he represented They had always very bitterly, and had always been against me, and the thing that astounded me more than anything else was this man’s frank oppose j me, sometimes ness, At that time there was a lively contest in my state over the temperance question. No candidates for governor had yet a: nounced themselves, but several men were talked of on both sides of the temperance issue This man told me that he not only rep resented the railroad with which he ha always been connected, but in tl on which he desired to consu me he rep resented the other railroads in my state, together with the brewers’ interest I had always been known as a temperance man, and had always supported temperance legislation and temperance measure My visitor said to me very frankly that he had come to Washington to induce me to become a candidate for governor. Hi proposition to me was perfectly dum founding, because he knew that I did not agree with those he represented on the temperance question, and [ could not understand why it was they should want me to become a candidate for governor He told me they understood just where | stood on the temperance question, and that he knew I was not with them on the issue; but that I had publicly stated that the liquor question at issue ought to be submitted under our referendum law to a vote of the people, and that everybody who cnew me knew I would upport the tem They did «me to change my view They knew Il wor not do it under any circumstance TI knew I was against them on the proposition, whether the issue was fought then or at some subsequent. time | perance side of the propositior ot asl ey The Voice of the Tempter He said: ‘“‘We know where you stand, not only on this, but on other issue We do not expect to try to change you or to control you, and we knew in the beginning that we could not, even if we wanted to.” He went on to say that he had tifteen thousand dollars with him that he was authorized to turn over to me for my el« tion expenses. He also reminded me of the fact that in his judgment, if I announced myself as a candidate for governor, there would be no other candidate; that I could be sure of the nomination; and that the = election would be as certain as the nomina tion; that no questions would be asked that men running for office at that time always had to have contributions to make a campaign, and I could spend as little or as much as I thought best I stayed with this man nearly all night at his room in the hotel, trying to find out what his real object was--why it was that these interests were trying to shift me from Washington to a state office, when they knew I was against them on the very issue that was going to be involved in the state campaign. Considerable talk had been in dulged in by newspapers and others that would be a candidate for the Senate ] had not said anything about i The real truth was, I had in my 1 decided I would not be a cand lection to th te, and would not be a candidate for re@lection to the House Of course I declined all these proposi tions, and for several days I did not do e Sena much but think about them. I reached the conclusion -which I believe was correct that this man’s object was to keep me out of the Senate, and that they regarded a senatorial position as of so much more im portance that they were willing to give the position of governor to a man whom they did not like, if thereby they could have ymebody else in the Senate In our con versation he asked me whether I was going to be a candidate for the Senate, and | frankly told him that I had not decided I asked him how these interests would be if | should become a candidate for the Senate, and he was as frank on that matter as on most others, in telling me that in h judgment they would all be against The upshot of it all was that after | had thought about it for three or four da I decided there was only one thing to ao and that was to be a candidate for the Senate Later on I became a candida and that was the way I came to get i the Senate. me Editor's Note—This is the first of two art The secc ad will appear in an early issur

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST LAST DAYS AAND DEATH OF THE RUSSIAN EMPEROR AND HIS FAMILY Continued from Page 7) | oe - ~} Ks . | i aes . . ah gs a | = =? fea! : "A cs time on duty in the lower rooms of the house, After we were finished our shift of duty, together with Stoloff, we went to get some drinks in the house Number Kighty-five of the Vodotchnaia Street. We returned at dusk, as we had to resume our duties at five o’clock. Medve- deff noticed that we were drunk and put us under arrest in the bathhouse, which was situated in the yard of Popoff’shouse. We fell asleep and slept up till three A.M. At three o’clgck during the night we were awakened by Medve- deff, who told us: “Get up and follow me.”’ We asked him where, and he an- swered: “They call you, so you must go.”’ Lam telling you that it was three o'clock because Sto- loff had a watch with him and when I looked at this watch The Shaft Into Which the Bodies Were Thrown suffered more. They both used to drink in the commandant’s room and while intoxi- catedtheysang. Nikoulin played the piano that was in the commandant’sroom. Some- times as Nikoulin was playing! and Iouro- vsky’s eyes were bleared with booze they both started yelling out songs as: “Let Us Forget the Old World; Let Us Shake its Dust From Our Feet. We Do Not Need a Golden Idol. We Abhor the Czar’s Palace,” and so on. Or sometimes they sang: ‘‘ You Died as the Victim of aStruggle.”” Moshkin also sometimes allowed himself to sing those ongs, but only in the absence of Avdeeff, who did not know anything about it, but the first two took things easy. At the time of Avdeeff women never entered the house, but Nikoulin probably had a mistress who always came to see him and stayed with him after Iourovsky’s departure. She was aged about twenty, was short, stout and blond; her eyes were brown; her nose was mall and straight. I do not know her name. I don’t know either where she lived or from whence she came. Medvedeff told nothing about her. At the time of Iourov- sky divine service was performed less often. The Scene of the Tragedy As a result the guards under the com- mand of Iourovsky began to behave them- elves much worse. Fayka-Safonoff began ave indecently. There was only one lavatory for the imperial family. On the walls near the lavatory Fayka began to write all sorts of bad words, that were very much out of place. He was seen writing those words on the walls near the lavatory by Alexeeff, who was on duty on the upper floor together with Fayka. Fayka occupied the post near the lavatory and Alexeeff near the commandant’s room. After Alexeeff re- turned from duty he told us everything about it. Once upon a time Fayka climbed up a fence which was quite close to the win- dows of the Emperor's rooms and began to play all sorts of bad songs. Andrew Strekotin began to draw on the walls of the lower room all sorts of indecent pictures. Belomoin participated in the drawing, laughed and taught Strekotin how to draw better. I have personally witnessed how Strekotin was drawing those things. Once I was walking near the house when I saw that the youngest daughter of the Emperor, Anastasia, looked out of the win- dow. When the sentry on duty noticed it he fired his rifle at her. The bullet missed her and lodged above her in the woodwork of the window frame. All of those unbecoming deeds were known to Jourovsky. Medvedeff reported to him about Podkorytoff, but Iourovsky only answered: “‘They must not look out of the window.” As I said before, from the time that the Letts entered and joined the guards they lived in the lower floor of the Ipatieff house and we workmen were all transferred to the house opposite, belonging to Popoff—or Oboukoff. In this house we occupied all the rooms of the upper floor; the lower floor was taken up by tenants. The Zhlokasoffs were placed in the same rooms we were, The last time I have seen the imperial family, except the Emperor, was a few days before they were murdered. On that day they all went for a walk in the garden; all of them walked except the Empress. There were it was exactly three o’clock.Wegotupand followed Medvedeff. He brought us to the lower room of the Ipatieff house. All the workman guards were there except those on duty. There was a cloud of powder smoke in the room and it smelt of powder. In the rear room, that had a barred window, which is situated close to the storeroom, the walls and floor were pierced by bullets. In one wall there was an especially large number of bullet holes, but there were also bullet marks in the others. There were no marks of bay- onets’ strokes on the walls. In the places where the walls and floor carried bullet holes there was blood round them; there were splashes and spots of blood on the wall and small pools on the floor. There were drops and spots of blood in other rooms that had to be passed on the way from the room that had the bullet marks to the courtyard. There were also traces of blood on the pave- ment of the courtyard on the way to the gate. It was obvious that quite recently before our arrival a large number of men were shot in the very same room with the barred window. After I witnessed all that I began to question Medvedeff and Strekotin about what happened. They told me that just a few moments before the whole im- perial family and the people attached to them were shot, exc ept the boy. lourousky's Orders Medvedeff ordered us to clean up the rooms. We began to wash the floor; sev eral mops were brought in to destroy thi traces of the bloodstains. I could not tell who brought them. Medvedeff ordered that some sawdust be brought. We all washed the floor with cold water and saw dust, removing the bloodstains. The blood- stains on the wall we washed off with a wet rag. All the workmen participated in the cleaning except those that were on duty. A number of men did the cleaning in the room where the imperial family were killed Amongst other people there were also Med- vedeff and two Letts. I was also cleaning this room. In the same manner, using water, we washed the blood from the pave- ment of the courtyard. I did not find any bullets. Were any bullets found by other people or not I don’t know. When Stoloff and myself came down to the lower room we did not find anybody there except a few Letts. Medvedeff and our workmen were absent. Nikoulin at that time, as it was said by Medvedeff, was in the upper room, the door of which jead- ing to the lower rooms was locked from inside, No gold or any other valuable articles taken from the bodies of the murdered people did I see in the lower rooms, Later I questioned Medvedeff how were the im- perial family killed and he related to me the following: Tuesday morning, when I was on sentry duty, I personally saw that Iourovsky came tothe house at eight o’clock in the morning. Sometime after his arrival Beloborodoff entered the house. I left my post at ten o’clock in the morning; but Medvedeff told me afterward that later Iourovsky and Beloborodoff went for a ride in an automobile. At this time Nikoulin re- the Emperor; his son; his daughters, Olga, Maria, Tatiana and Anastasia. There were also the doctor, the waiter, the cook, maid and the boy. I observed distinctly that the heir was dressed in a shirt and had a black leather belt with a small metal buckle round his waist. I saw that very distinctly because the Grand Duchess Olga carried him close past me. The heir was ill and the boy pushed his roller chair. I could not tell exactly the date when I saw them walking in the garden, but it was not long before their death. The murder took place the night between Tues- day and Wednesday. I do not remember the date. I remember that we received our wages on Monday. So it must have been the fifteenth of the month of July, reckoning by the New Style. The day after we received the wages, at ten o'clock in the morn- ing on July sixteenth, I was standing on duty by the sentry box near to the Vosnesensky Pros- pect and Vosnesensky Lane. EgorStoloff, with iy of 9 ARP bey CONT RRE EP CL. whom I lived in the same room, was at the same The Daughters’ Room at Yekaterinburg mained in the house, They returned before evening. During the eve- ning lourovsky told Medvedeff that in the night time the imperial family would be shot and ordered him to no- tify the workmen and to take the revolvers from the sentries. All that was not clear tome. I couldn't tell if it was true or not, as I did not think tioning any of the work- men if Medvedeff tool their revolvers or not. Personally I don’t uh- derstand why it was nec- essary; agcording to Medvedeff’s words the imperial family were shot by the I ! they all had Nagan re of que AYN ing more connha them than i | sians. Perhaps f ‘ same reason he Iso wanted to disarm t Russian workmer were on duty. Medve deff accurately per- formed lourovsky’ order; took the revol a vers from the sentric (Continued on Page 132)

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Oontinued from Page 129 +} ’ } ind at eleven ithe workmen were going to be ght, lourov- req lesting to the ivedeff, suld be dang floor So hould come down. THE SATURDAY lourovsky was already in the house. Prob- ably he spent the night in the house. They were all meddling with the Emperor's belongings. They were in a great hurry and were packing all the things that could be packed. I could not hear the conversation between Iourovsky and Nikoulin and Med- vedeff. They were all calm and I had the impression that lourovsky and Nikoulin were a little drunk. During this day no things were out—only packing was going on. After I left my post I went to the guards’ room, slept, ate and went tosee my brother taken EVENING POST left Yekaterinburg when the staff of the Third Army did, at the time when the town was already being occupied by the Siberian forces. We went to Perm. When the troops of General Pepelaieff were taking Perm the staff of the Third Army and all the work- men of our party left Perm and proceeded toward Viatka. I remained in Perm and after Perm was taken returned to Yekater- inburg and stopped with my brother Alex- ander. The secret service learned of my presence and I was ordered to come to the police station. An elderly official started to ques- tion me. I got very much afraid and began to lie to f hef insferred t rooms where we were quartered ar him there persor before the All of bre ught them te room mark They rows Jouroy tarted to rea them a paper Emperor did hear well and 1 *What?”’ to the Medvedeff, lo ky lifted | with the reve ind, how ne the Emper r, wered: *Thi what’; ind after ward rejoined ‘Your race mu to live.’ ing word cease I remember, : that when t f ibout the paper which Louro. read tothe Emp Medvedetf ca!l t proto 0 oon ovsky fir sentence horodoff and all the Letts fired ; , nper and direct] afterward bear ) in i everybody Chey all fell on the floor. Med- hot twoor and other per- uti vv el vedeff told me three times at the whom they were exe Emperor on The Murderers Depart Strekotin, took all the ich were After all of them were shot, told it to me himself the bodies, wl are ! iken from him by lour ta I After th al all tor truck and a he precious thing I ! at the ovsky and carried uf the bodies were loaded on a m taken out mewhers the ky, Be No one After the clear together with Stoloff, we went to town and iuntered round the town up t ning We did not t ar of our acquaintances ind did not tell ar irder In the evening we me back to our quar- ters, had slept At six in the morning Thursday, July eighteenth, Medve lered me on duty on a post inside of » house by the com- mandant’ to this time, after the arrival of the Letts, not a single workman ever was allowed to do sentry duty inside of the house while the imperial family were ll alive; and now, after they were killed, we were again ordered on duty inside the his truck with departed Lourov- Letts them. bodies of the killed loboredoff and a number of from our wor en went with if the rooms was over, ll eve mre ibout the mi ome o'clock room. | p use, rhere lourovsky, Letts were already in took up my post. There wa of our or Zhlokasoff’ ber very well that wl near the lavatory. Medvedeft and the the house when I nobody out I remem- to my post was no sentry Nikoulin, s workmen en I came The Empress Alexander, who erved in the mili- tia. I did not tell anything about the murder to my brother. Uptill the evening I saun- tered round the town and in the evening I returned to theguards’ room. In the guards’ room Medvedeff an- nounced that weall had to leave Yeka- terinburg. On July nine- teenth we were sent to thestation Yeka- terinburg First. Our party was assigned to guard the staff of the Third Red Army. The staff was in railway cars - id we were located him, saying that I had never been amongst the guards of the imperial fam- ily. Afterward I confessed that I was amongst the guards, but I denied knowl- edge of anything. Now I have told you everything I know about this matter. I fully realize how wrong I was not to follow the ad- vice of my father and mother and to have enlisted in the guards. Now I real- ize what a bad act it was to kill the imperial family and I understand that I was also wrong in washing out the bloodstains result- ing from the crime. I am not a Bolshevik and I never wasone. All that I did was because of my youth and stupidity. If at present I could help in any way to find and get hold of the people who committed the murder I would spare no effort to do it. All the workmen who performed duty had Nagan revolvers that were distrib- uted by Medvedeff a few days before the murder. Iourovsky carried a Brown- ing pistol, Medvedeff a Nagan revolver. I don’t know what hap- pened to the boy who was waitingon the imperial fam- ily and who was transferred August 7,1920 commandant’s room. I think it never took place, as lourovsky treated them badly If ever in the commandant’s room, where the Empress’ rosary was found, it was probably forgotten there at the time of the packing after their murder. Usually I saw the Emperor wearing a gray or black jacket with a standing collar and brass buttons. He wore boots, and gray hair was seen in his beard. The grand duchesses walked in the garden in summer clothes, wearing blouses and skirts of vari- ous colors. I cannot explain anything more. My statement was read to me and is written correctly. PHILIP PROSKOURIAKOFF. Coroner N. Sokoloff present at the vestigation. YORDANSKY, Public Prosecutor. Deposition of Pavel Medvedeff On February 21, 1919, in the town of Yekaterinburg, the member of Yekaterin- burg district court, J. Sergeieff, investigated the undermentioned person in the capacity of accused with theapplication of Articie No. 103 of the Regulations of Penal Law Pro- ceedings. The accused deposed as follows: I am Pavel Spiridonovitch Medvedetf; thirty-one years of age; belonging to the Orthodox Church; literate; born a peasant of the Sissert factory of the Yekaterinburg district. I have a house belonging to me at the factory. In September, 1914, I was mobilized and assigned to the Opolchenskaia Drujina 33d Territorial Battalion—located in the town of Verkhotourie. I stayed with the battalion for two months. I was then dis- charged and exempted from the military service, on account, I believe, of being em- ployed as a munition worker. After the February Revolution, in April, 1917, I joined the Bolshevik Party, as the majority of the workmen in our factory did the same. During three months I paid to the party treasury one per cent of my wages. Then I ceased to pay because I was not willing to participate in the activities of the party. After the October Revolution, in Janu- ary, 1918, I was enlisted in the Red Army and in February they sent me to the Front to fight against Dutoff. Commissar Sergei Mrachkovsky was in command of my de- tachment. We were fighting in the vicinity of Troizk, but our fighting was not a success, as we did more wandering the steppes than actual fighting. In April I came home on leave and spent three weeks there. In the second half of May the above-mentioned Commissar Mrach- kovsky came to our factory and began to recruit workmen ina special detachment which was assigned to guard the house where the former Emperor, Nicholas II, and his family lived. The condi- tions appeared at- tractive to me and I enlisted. Alto- gether thirty work- men were enlisted. On May 19, 1918, the detachment re- cruited by Commis- sar Mrachkovsky rpame to Yekaterin- burg and was quar- tered in the Novy Gostiny-Dvor— new market house where we lived till by them. At this time I saw the Em- peror’s belongings, loaded on trucks, being shipped to the sta- tion; it was the same things that were pre- viously packed in hand bags and trunks. They were all brought to the station and loaded in train cars. The cars were big, of the American type. I have seen personally Iourovsky’s de- parture. As I remember, he left during the night of July twenty-first and proceeded toward Perm. His family and Nikoulin accompanied him. I have also personally witnessed that all the Letts who lived in the Ipatieff house and killed the imperial family departed with Iourovsky. We all Jewels of the Empress to our q! “we pe before the murder. He slept on my bed and I spoke to him. I don’t know if he knew about the murder of the imperial family. He did not cry and we did not talk with him about the murder. He told me that the commandant intended to send him home and mentioned to me some district or other, but I have forgotten its name. At the same time he complained to me ] Iourovsky took his clothes from him. I could not name a single man out of the Letts. When I performed duty inside the house I never saw the Empress enter the May twenty-fourth According to the or der of the Ural District Soviet, we elected from amongst our number two seniors Alexii Nikiforoff and I turned to be elected. On May twenty-fourth our de- tachment was transferred to new quarters, to the lower floor of the Ipatieff house The same day the former Emperor, with his family, arrived. They were placed in the upper floor of this same house. The whole upper floor of the house was at their disposal, except one room at the left from the entrance, which was occupied by the commandant of the house and his assistant. (Concluded on Page 135)

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST August 7,1920 a ee nena tS . ’ 4 ea GASOLINE. COOL GASOLINE MEANS A FULL GALLON OF GASOLINE WITH REAL KICK” — Phe gasoline you buy should be sixty degrees in temperature. Heated above this it increases in volume but decreases in value. Gasoline stored underground averages sixty degrees in temperature. If delivered into your car tank without being heated above this you get a full gallon of real gasoline. Exposure of gasoline to the air in above-ground containers raises the temperature, increases the volume and allows the evaporation of vapors vital to easy starting and quick pick-up. The heating of gasoline above sixty degrees should take place inside your carburetor. Wayne Honest Measure Curb Pumps are built on the vacuum-bottle principle. A cylindrical housing completely encases the measuring cylinder. An air chamber lies between. The cylinder is unheated, the gasoline remains cool. Gasoline obtained from a Wayne Honest Measure Curb Pump System comes unheated from a cool underground tank, accurately measured mechanically, purified by four screens and a_ positive filter. Wayne's patented continuous action delivers it more quickly, saving your time. You can see the Wayne Dial clocking off each gallon after delivery—not before. Note this point! In justice to your pocketbook and your car’s mileage seek the dependable service, quicker delivery and protection of Wayne Honest Measure Curb Pumps when you take on gas. You'll get cool asoline and a full gallon ol ga soline f ill ot Pe ." Dealers, garages and filling stations find that a Wayne makes lasting friends, builds bigger business and pays. When you write ask for descriptive bulletins. Sent without obligation. Wayne Oil Tank and Pump Company Fort Wayne, Indiana anicalion with offices im thirty-four ciltes. Re pre- where. Repair stocks and service at your command. HONEST MEASURE PUMPS “= Gasoline and Oil OT Biles teresa! Oil Burning Furnaces for Metal Melting, Storage Systems Systems Systems eva stot Me tele Ma (tam Ba telel 4 For Air and Wate

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— (Concluded from Page 132) Alexander Avdeeff, the workman of the Zhlokasoff factory, was the commandant. Moshkin—I don’t remember his Christian name—was his assistant. Two other men were also quartered in the commandant’s room. I do not know their names, but I know they were Zhlokasoff’s workmen. As soon as our party arrived at the Ipatieff house the commandant ordered me, as I was senior, to receive the prisoners. Together with Avdeeff and Moshkin, I en- tered the corner room, the Czar’s bedroom. The following persons were there: The Emperor, his wife, son, four daughters, Doctor Botkin, the cook, the waiter and a boy. I do not know their names. After having counted the party we left, without having spoken to them. In the room adjoining to the Czar’s bed- room were placed the Czar’s four daughters. At first there were no beds for them. After two or three days the beds were put in. The commandant was in charge of the internal life in the house; the guards performed only sentry duty. At first the guards were on duty in three turns, but later in four. We stayed in the Ipatieff house two or three weeks, after which we were transferred to Popoff’s house, which was exactly opposite the Ipatieff house. In a few days after this the guard was augmented by fourteen more workmen from the Zhlokasoff factory, which is situated in Yekaterinburg. Those Zhlo- kasoff workmen also elected their senior, by the name of Iakimoff. There were all to- gether eleven sentry posts from their num- ber. Two were inside the house; two by the machine guns; four outside the house. Preparations for the Crime Every day the Czar’s family used to walk in the garden. The heir was sick all the time and the Emperor carried him to his roller chair. At the beginning dinner for the family was brought from the soviet’s dining room; but afterward they were al- lowed to prepare their own dinner in the kitchen of the upper floor. The seniors’ who were the guards’ captains—duties were to take charge of the food and supplies of the guardsmen, to change the sentries and supervise them. When on duty the senior had to stay in the commandant’s room. At first the seniors took turns every twelve hours in performing their duties. Then the third senior was elected, Constantine Dob- rynin, and after this we did duty in eight- hour shifts. At the end of June or at the beginning of July—I don’t remember ex- actly—the commandant, Avdeeff, and his assistant, Moshkin, wereremoved. Itseems that they were suspected of stealing the Czar’s belongings. A new commandant was assigned; his name was Iourovsky. The new commandant’s assistant arrived with him; his name I positively do not remember. In the evening of July the sixteenth the time of my duty just began when, between seven and eight P. M., the commandant, Iourovsky, ordered me to take all the Nagan revolvers from the guardsmen and to bring them up to him. I took twelve revolvers from the sentries as well as from some other guardsmen and brought them to the com- mandant’s office. Iourovsky announced to me: “We will have to shoot them all to-night; notify the guardsmen not to be alarmed if they should hear the shots.” I understood that Iourovsky had in mind to shoot the whole of the Czar’s fam- ily as well as the doctor and servants who lived with them, but I did not ask him where or by whom the decision was made. I must tell you that the boy who assisted the cook, in accordance with Iourovsky’s order, was transferred since the morning to the guardsmen’s rooms in the Popoff house. The lower floor of the Ipatieff house was oecupied by the Letts from the Letts’ com- mune, who took up their quarters there after lourovsky was made commandant. They were ten in number. At about ten o’clock in the evening, in accordance with Iourov- sky’s order, I informed the guardsmen not to be alarmed if they should hear firing. About midnight Iouroysky woke up the Czar’s family. I do not know if he told them the reason they had to be wakened and to where they were to be taken or not. I positively affirm that it was Iourovsky who entered the rooms where the Czar’s family was. Iourovsky had not ordered me or Dobrynin to waken the family. In about an hour the whole of the family, the doctor, maid and two waiters got up, washed and dressed themselves. Just before Iourovsky went to waken the family up two members of the extraordinary commission arrived at the Ipatieff house. Shortly after one o'clock in the night the Czar, Czaritza, their four daughters, the maid, the doctor, the cook and the waiter left their rooms. The Czar carried the heir in his arms, The Emperor and the heir were dressed in gomnasterkas— soldiers’ shirts—and wore caps. The Em- press and the daughters were dressed, but their heads were uncovered. The Emperor with the heir proceeded first. The Empress, her daughters and the others followed him. Iourovsky, his assistant, and the two above-mentioned members of the extraor- dinary commission were accompanying them. I was also present. During my pres- ence nobody of the Czar’s family asked anybody any questions. They did not either weep or cry. Having descended the stairs to the first floor, we went out into the court, and from there by the second door, counting from the gate, we entered the lower floor of the same house. When the corner room, adjoining the storeroom with a sealed door, was entered, Iourovsky or- dered chairs to be brought. His assistant brought three chairs. One chair was given to the Emperor, one to the Empress and the third to the heir. The Empress sat by the wall with the window, near the back pillar of the arch. Behind her stood three of her daughters. I know their faces very well, because I saw them every day when they were walking, but I don’t know how every one was named. The heir and the Emperor sat side by side, almost in the middle of the room. Doctor Botkin stood behind the heir. The maid, a very tall woman, stood by the left post of the door leading to the storeroom: by her side stood one of the Czar’s daughters, the fourth. Two servants stood at the left from the en- trance corner of the room, against the wall separating the storeroom. The maid had a pillow. The Czar’s daughters also brought small pillows with them. One pillow was put on the Empress’ chair; another on the heir’s chair. It looked as if all of them guessed their fate, but not a single sound was uttered. At the same time eleven men entered the room: Iourovsky, his assistant, two members of the extraordinary commission and seven Letts. Iourovsky ordered me to leave, say- ing: ‘‘Go to the street, see if there is any- body there and listen if the shots will be heard.” I went out to the court, which was in- closed by a fence, and before I could get out to the street I heard the firing. Imme- diately I returned to the house—only two or three minutes having elapsed—and on entering the room where the execution took place I saw that all the members of the Czar’s family were lying on the floor, hav- ing many wounds in their bodies. The blood was running in streams. The doctor, the maid and two waiters were also shot. When I entered the heir was still alive and moaned. Iourovsky fired two or three more times at him. The heir grew still. Disposal of the Bodies The aspect of the murder and the smell andsight of the blood made me sick. Before the assassination Iourovsky distributed the revolvers; he gave me one, also, but, as I said before, I did not take part in the mur- der. After the assassination Iourovsky said to me that I was to bring some guardsmen to wash out the blood in the room. On the way to Popoff’s house I met two seniors, Starkoff and Dobrynin. They were running in the direction of the Ipatieff house. Dobrynin asked me: ‘Has Nicholas II been shot?” I answered that Nicholas II and the whole of his family had been shot. I brought twelve or fifteen guardsmen vith me.. These men carried the bodies to the motor truck that stayed near the entrance of the house. The bodies were carried on stretchers that were made from bed sheets and shafts of sledges taken from the court. When loaded on trucks they were wrapped in soldiers’ clothing. The driver was Lu- hanoff, a Zhlokasoff workman. The mem- bers of the extraordinary commission sat on the truck and the truck went away. do not know in what direction the truck went; neither do I know where the bodies were taken to. The blood in the room was washed out and everything was put in order. At three o’clock in the morning everything was in order. Then Iourovsky went to his room and I went to the guardroom. I woke up after eight o’clock and went to the commandant’s room. I met there the president of the district soviet, Beloborodoff and Commissar Goloschekin and Starkoff. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST The last named was on duty; he was lected to be senior two or three weeks before. All the rooms in the house were in disorder. Things were scattered. Suitcases and trunks were opened. Piles of gold and silver things were in the commandant’s room. On the morning of the eighteenth my wife arrived and I went with her to the Sissert factory. I was instructed to dis- tribute wages to the guardsmen’s families. On July twenty-first I returned to Yekater- inburg. All the Czar’s belongings were al- ready taken from the house and the guards relieved. On July twenty-first I left Yekaterinburg together with Commissar Mrachkovsky. In Perm Commissar Golo- schekin assigned me to the party that was in charge of the guarding of our prepara- tions for the destruction of the stone bridge in case of the appearance of the White troops. I had not time enough to blow up the bridge according to the instructions re- ceived by me, but at the same time I did not wish to do it, either, as I was to surrender myself voluntarily. I received the order to blow up the bridge when it was under the fire of the Siberian troops and I surrendered voluntarily Answering the question as to where the bodies of the killed were taken, I could state only the following: On the way from Yekaterinburg railway station to the Ala- paievsk I met Peter Ermakoff and asked him where the bodies had been carried to. Erma- koff explained to me that the bodies were thrown down the shaft of a mine near Verh Issettsk Works and after that the shaft was destroyed by bombs or explosives in order to fillitup. Ido not know and never heard anything concerning the wood piles that were burned near the shaft. I do not know anything more about the question as to where the bodies are. It did not interest me on whom depended the fate of the Czar’s family and who had the right to dispose of them. I executed only the order of those in whose service I was. The above is all that I can tell in refer- ence to the accusation that is made against me. I cannot say any more. My testi- mony has been read to me and it is taken correctly. (Signed) MEDVEDEFF. The Member of the Yekaterinburg district court, J. SERGEIEFF. Held as an Accomplice RESOLUTION: On February 22, 1919, in the town of Yekaterinburg, the member of the district court, Sergeieff, having questioned the peasant, Pavel Medvedeff, prosecuted in the capacity of accomplice of the assassina- tion of the former Emperor and the mem- bers of his family, choosing necessary meas- ures to prevent his escape from further inquiry and court, has found: (1) That he is indicted for a crime that may be followed by very serious penalty; (2) that Medve- deff before having been arrested was hiding himself amongst the Red Army; and (3) pre- vious to that he escaped from Yekaterinburg just before the said town was taken by government troops. On account of the above-mentioned, was resolved to put Pavel Medvedeff, thirty-one years old, under arrest in the Yekaterinburg prison. (Signed) The Member of the Yekaterinburg district court, J. SBRGEIEFF. THE WORKMEN’S AND PEASANTS’ GOVERN- MENT OF THE RUSSIAN FEDERATIVE ReE- PUBLIC OF SOVIETS URAL DISTRICT SOVIET OF THE WORKMEN'S, PEASANTS’ AND SOLDIERS’ DEPUTIES PRESIDIO YEKATERINBURG, April 80, 1918. On the 80th of April, 1918, I, the under- signed, Chairman of the Ural District Soviet of Workmen’s, Peasants’ and Soldiers’ Dep- uties, Alexander Georgeovitch Beloboro- doff, received from the Commissar of the All Russian Central Executive Committee, Vasily Vaselievitch Iakoveff, the following persons transferred from the Town of To- bolsk: The former Czar, Nicholas Alex- androvitch Romanoff; former Czaritza, Alexandra Theodorovna Romanova; former Grand Duchess, Maria Nicholaevna Romanova—all of them to be kept under guard in the Town of Yekaterinburg. A. BELOBORODOFF. Member of District Executive Commit- tee, D. DIpKovsky. 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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST August 7,1920 nly Vises Made SEW products offer such clear-cut and definite superiority as Columbian Sledge-Tested Vises do in the fact that they are the only line of malleable iron vises made. Columbian Vises are made with hollow jaws. The cast- ings are heat-treated for eleven days until they are com- pletely malleableized and toughened. They become nearly twice as strong as the ordinary cast iron vise. The use of malleable iron, the unusually careful machining, the use of removable tool-steel jaw faces, the cone-bearing that makes the screw self-aligning, the cold-rolled steel handles with forged-on ball ends, and other features of Columbian Sledge-Tested Vises greatly increas their manufacturing cost— but no¢ the price you pay. Columbian Sledge-Tested Vises include all types of bench vises for metal working and wood working; also forged steel leg vises mad without welds in legs or jaws. In the same shops are produced Columbian All-Steel One Piece Anvils and Columbian Non-Crawling Forged Steel Clamps. You can buy Columbian Vises, Anvils and Clamps anywhere in the United States. Complete catalog upon request. ' COIUMBIAN ———S on

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST August 7,1920 You buy two things in a Truck Capacity and Power HE. ability to carry a load and the power to — stand the tremendous side-strains encountered when move it sums up all your needs in a truck. taking curves at high speed. (Capacity —sometimes over-rated or over-loaded— This is the principle of Sheldon Worm Gear Axles. means the load that the truck will carry under all — ‘Technically it is known as ‘‘semi-floating.’’ In re- conditions of road—usual and unusual. ality it is the principle employed in carrying the Freight Tonnage of the World. When you buy a truck you are buying capacity, therefore you should study the axle. You can get a Sheldon-equipped truck of every size from '2 to 5 ton capacity, and for every purpose. And capacity, after all, means the axles. There is Where the load comes. Railroad operators know this, and have adopted the principle of the load-carrying revolving axle with fixed wheels to give greatest strength to with- The booklet on Sheldon Superiorities will be sent free upon request. REC.U.S. PAT. OFF is Sheldon trade-mar st on the housing at the rear en SHELDON AXLE AND SPRING COMPANY, Wilkes-Barre, Pa. Sin caraiguah, Br tent heldon Axle and is vow Manufacturers of Sheldon Axles for Motor Trucks and Sheldon Springs for Trucks and Automobiles ance of strength, long life, s Sheldon FOR Axle ver TRUCKS BUILT ON THE LOCOMOTIVE AXLE PRINCIPLE

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from here to Bath. Two dollars a day and your keep. Some will pay more, but they wouldn't feed you what you'll get here. I believe in treating my men as well as I treat my stock. Some farmers don’t.” Wyatt’s brain cleared suddenly. That was it of course! These people were soft— soft with easy land and easy living. They didn’t know what work was, any of them— getting up in broad daylight and wasting time on passing tramps. He was intensely conscious of superiority as the meaning of the other’s comparison came home to him. That was where he had made his mistake— in choosing the cities, where he was an outsider, instead of seeking fat farming country, where what he knew could be made to pay him a price for the bitter learning of it. He saw himself as a wolf among so many sheep here in these soft rich fields, where the clock measured a day’s work instead of the sun, where a man might scratch lazily at the ground and find great houses just below the surface and motors and money and idleness! “T'll take that job,” he announced sharply. “Give me some grub and I'll show you the work all right. I guess I been playing myself for a mark all along.” He ate hugely in a wide, low-ceiled kitchen smelling of cookies and bacon and coffee, delib- erately watching the woman who supplied his needs. She was like the country, he thought, soft and friendly—easy, he amended. Her yellow hair had been carefully dressed; the print dress was fresh and clean. Even her shoes were neat—white canvas slippers with heels that clicked on the scrubbed planks of the floor. Her arms were bare to the elbow and he noticed the softness and white- ness of them as he wolfed the food they set before him. Somehow her good humor im- pressed him as an omen. A soft country, where even the men and women were like the land. He endured her amiable raillery in silence, but as he reached the door he turned and fiashed a deliberate look into her eyes. A final jest col- lapsed weakly on her lips. He saw a quick color flood into her face. And he went out to the barn with a laugh be- tween his teeth. Fat lands, lazy men, soft white women. Pei J yes they had beckoned to him furtively, behind his father’s bent back, figures that moved persuasively in allur- ing shadows, sometimes mocking, sometimes friendly and eager. At first they had been children at play, romp- ing boys with dogs and ponies, tops and kites and bicycles. Some- where, out and down beyond the rim of the hills, boys were like that. He had known this ever since the time when the big automo- hile, rashly attempting the hill paths, had broken down a fewrods from the gate and he had listened to the talk of the boy who had traveled in it. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST WILD CARROT (Continued from Page 9) “"F IT had my bicycle here I could ride right home on it. Say, lemme take yours.” He could remember, years afterward, shaking his head sullenly in answer to the flicker of questions which had followed the confession that he had no bicycle to lend. No pony, either? No dog, even? Well, they could play, then. They could fly his kite. “I got to work,” he said finally, and climbed the fence back to the jagged bit of grassland where he was hand-raking the weedy hay his father’s scythe had cut that morning. The city boy had sat on the fence and watched him, clearly impressed with the spectacle of a boy who had to work and could work barefooted in thorny stubble. His silence had led to whistles and hoots of derision. “Yah! Got to work—got to work!” He found himself suddenly standing over the boy’s city clothes, his fists clenched, his lips drawn tight and flat about his teeth, secretly amazed at the ease of his victory. The man in the queer leather leggings routed him and rescued his victim, but he-went back to the rake with some- thing to think about, slowly and methodi- cally, as he worked. Some boys didn’t have to work. Dis- counting something of what he had heard as empty boasting, it was clear that the boy he had knocked off the fence possessed things and privileges Jud Wyatt had never even wanted. A bicycle, dogs, things to play with. ‘“‘An’ I licked him ‘thout half tryin’,”’ he told himself. The deduction suggested itself: If he lived near enough to that boy's house he could take those things away from him whenever he chose. The idea rooted firmly during the long afternoon under the stab- bing sun. Gradually it expanded into his possessing dream of a wonderland below and beyond the hills, where boys had everything they wanted—boys he could lick with one hand tied behind his back. “T’m goin’ down there when I'm growed up,” he promised himself, fighting back sleep under the shingles. “If the rest are like him I could git anything I want—jest take it off'n ’em.” Later, as bicycles and toys lost their appeal, he substituted other desires, but the vision endured, and the purpose. His opinion of lowlanders was confirmed, too, by the specimens of the breed who found He Ate Hugely in a Wide, Low:Ceiled Kitchen Smelling of Cookies and Bacon and Coffee their way into the hills; he and his father often made an easy dollar or two by pulling a helpless car out of the ford in the run, while its owners scrambled uselessly about on the bank or sat still in their leather seats—soft folks, all of them, easy prey for such as Jud Wyatt. He kept his idea to himself, as an inventor hides his discovery. But he heard of other boys, older than he, who put his plan to the test before he was ready. They were alway drifting down from the hill farms of them came back, except to visit some times, to show their fine clothes and spend their money grandly. What he heard of them and from them deepened his convik tion, stiffened his purpose. He was shrewd enough to wait his time, though. He could handle the boys down there in the soft rich country, but the men would be too much for him until he was a man himself. He made cannily sure of this by forcing a fight on a summer visitor who fished the hill brooks when Jud was sixteen and who pre sented him with a workmanlike thrashing He saw that it would be safer to wait. Hattie Flint knew a little of his dream Her father’s farm matched with the Wyatt place and Hattie wa half a year older thar Jud, a lean brown girl almost as hard as Jud himself; as silent, too, and with something in her eyes sometime which frightened him a little. He saw her nearly every night when he drove the cow down from the pasture lot and Hattie, on the same errand, passed along the line fences Once, as he caught the full power of her eye on his own, a queer thought came to him: If Hattie had been a boy she could have whipped him—a thing which he had proved was beyond any other boy of his age or near it Somehow the thought attracted him. Itlenta certain appeal to Hattie to regard her as a pos- sible conqueror. He observed there- after the wiry strength of her, the quick sure- ness of her step, the trick of balance which carried her safely and fast along the lip of the gully, where he clam bered and clung whe: he passed that wa) And thinking of her secretly as in some sense his superior he revealed a little of | plan,.not freely nor at once, but in randon grudged snatche they stopped in the pasture at sundow! * You'll come you go,” said Hatt when he spoke of t projected descent ups the plair Sometimes he tri and none to make her enlarge thestatement,anr at what seemed a of his ability to own down there I Continued on Page 142

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST August 7,1920 [PRIIMARLIN-ROCKWELL INDUSTRIES ][] The Scope is of Service of Single Row 3H Double Row _ ANNULAR BALL BEARINGS N the development of the motor car, truck and tractor to their present high state of efficiency S. R. B. Bearings have been most important factors. S.R.B. Bearings also have made possible increased mechanical production in various other industries. The many sizes

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(Continued from Page 139) “T’ve seen a sight of ’em,’’ she said, and her voice rasped like a fine file. He could not tease another word from her, then or later, on the topic. But the speech inspired him to watch the women who came through the hills in the cars, which had ceased to be curiosities now, in the hope of seeing what Hattie had them, the thing which could bring that edged contempt into her tone. He saw many things, but never that They gave him another vision of the won- derland beyond the hills, added another ecret resolve, a dream of which he thought with a queer breathless quickening of pulse, a pricking tingle in his cheeks. They were wonderfully different from the women of the hills—from Hattie, for instance, and her mother. Even the old ones were smooth of cheek.and red of lip and soft of voice; they were mysterious disturbing creatures, touched with the charm of the unknown Their clothes seemed somehow part of them; they were white and pink, and he guessed, with a sullen defiance of an inner that an arm would find their bodies and yielding. Men who lived down had everything else a man could crave; and as if that were not enough they had women like these who left behind them faint mells, women with soft rose-colored hands and little lovely feet and silken ankles so small a hand could compa them Somewhere dowr een in jeer, warm there women sweet in the fat lands there would bea woman like that for Jud Wyatt a woman he would take away from some weaker man as he would take that man’s other possessions. The new vision seized his major faney now. He could think of nothing else. When he met Hattie Flint in the hill pasture it was to contrast her with those other women, to match their white oftness against her wire-hard brown arms, their delicate fingers against her toughened hands, their gossamer ankles against the awkward cowhide of Hattie’s heav y shoes He grew afraid to meet Hattie’s eyes, in these days, lest guess what went on behind his own. He looked, instead, at her hands and her shoes and the ugly clothes. Somehow she came to typify the hill coun- try in his sight, and the other women to tand as symbols of the kindlier lands t elow He waited, working almost without con- ciousness, while the slow years made a man of him. He heard of more and more young fellows who had adventured out beyond the rims which still imprisoned him. A few of them came back, but none stayed. Within a ten-mile circle of the Wyatt farm there were a dozen empty houses, little toil-won clearings already disappearing under eager overgrowth. He listened to the talk of the elders, and a slow scorn of them waked in him. They complained of hard times, of dwindling crops, of the want of help. And yet they stayed here, grown men, whom nothing restrained from going down into the lands where weak-backed folk grew rich and lived softly! The secret project sustained him as he grew into lean, work-bitten manhood. He scarcely realized the bitterness of the end- less fight against Nature by which he and his father lived, the diminishing margin of their success. It was only for a little while, he told himself, in the short moments be- tween his weary relaxation on the husk mattress and the swift, engulfing sleep. It didn’t matter. Pretty soon he'd be down there, down in the fat lands. He dreamed sometimes of snatching toys from flabby, white-faced boys; of a soft-fingered, woman who would smile at him as he thrust a puny rival out from between them. Ry hill standards he and his father did well. They picked the endless succession of stones from their plowland; they stacked hay and carried their stock through the long winters in goud flesh. Abel Wyatt owed no man a dollar, and even saved a little store of musty bills. Jud understood his own part in this prosperity; other men openly envied his father such a son. The two were on good terms of silence, singu- larly alike. Jud had a certain pride in his father, a pride that rested chiefly on tales of epic fights in the timber days, the ridges of warped muscles he could watch under the damp shirt in the hay time. Once Abel Wyatt voiced his son's own thought as he pocketed the price of two calves sold to the butcher from the Corners at a figure over which the buyer all but wept. “It takes a good man to stay alive up here. I cale’late we're a mite better’n good she THE SATURDAY Jud.” And clumsily he halved the money. “Guess you earnt more o’ this than I did, Jud.” Jud put the bills away in a chink in the wall. A little money would help him mightily when he left the hills behind. He might as well stay on until he could carry down a filled pocket. He'd stay through the summer and then take his share of the crops and go, before the winter clamped him fast again. He worked fiercely, counting his gains shrewdly as he picked stones and followed his plow or chopped weeds from the young corn or swung his scythe on the steep slant of the grassland. In mid-July Abner Flint died. His wife had long since surrendered to her rheu- matism, and the farm work fell to Hattie, single-handed except for what help the two Wyatts could give her. Abel spoke about her sometimes, admiringly. “Mighty near as handy as a man, that girl o’ Flint’s. Abner never run the place no better’n she’s a-runnin’ it. Jud grunted assent, his thoughts ‘bus y with a picture of Hattie, her arms bare, swinging her father’s scythe. And beyond her, blurred but alluring, he saw a vision of the other women—the women with fragile hands and mysterious perfumes, beckoning to him with a sort of furtive- ness, as if Hattie might see and interfere. He would have helped her oftener after these meditations, out of a kind of self- reproach, if she had taken his proffers kindly. But except when necessity drove she had a way of rejecting them curtly. He could understand this. Hattie liked to think she was as able as any man. Before he had told his father of his intent Abel Wyatt complicated his problem by suffering a stroke. They had been cutting corn since sunrise, and the day, surprisingly for September, had been fiercely hot. Jud came in with his milk pails, to find Abel helpless on the kitchen floor, the lumped, rigid muscles curiously horrible in their sudden futility. He had seen another man in such a state and knew what it meant. The doctor from the Corners only confirmed his guess. “‘He might live quite a while, Jud, but he'll never work again. Lucky he’s got a like you. Old Marsh Whittemore would be alive if his boy had stayed home. Died in a stroke just like this, because nobody was there to see to him. Just let him take things easy while he lasts. Guess he’s earned it.’ Jud Wyatt said nothing. He was con- scious of a dull impatience at the check, but from the first there had been no question of carrying out his plans. He was not deeply fond of his father, but an obligation against which he had no thought of rebellion bound him to the petty service of the sick room more effectually than affection could have accomplished it. He did two men’s work that winter, and a woman’s besides, sul- lenly patient, borne up by multiplying proofs of his sufficiency. Without under- standing why, he rebuffed Hattie Flint’s proffers of help with the nursing. He felt dimly that the mere offer involved a reflec- tion on his adequacy, and resented it. He fitted the plowland, in a tardy spring, from force of habit. It was clear to him that the time of his release was very near, even before the doctor told him. Abel Wyatt was breaking up swiftly, his huge strength a burden on his stricken body, his mind touched with a querulous childlike- ness, his intervals of lucidity given to con- cern over the farm work, which annoyed Jud as implying a want of respect. He felt no grief when the old man slept his way out of life. Abel Wyatt was better dead. And Jud was free, with their common property to help him on his way. He arranged for an auction of the house- hold goods and farm equipment before he followed Abel up the rocky lane to the family burying ground on the crest, conscious that the neighbors who walked with him were all old, bent men and women. Hattie Flint did not come to the funeral. Her mother had been taken bad, she sent word. He was a little relieved. Hattie’s eyes made him uncomfortable still—more uneasy than ever. A better man than he was, they seemed to say—able to whip him if she had been a boy. She came to the sale, however, and bid in a few of the farm tools. He observed that the other bidders dropped out after her voice had spoken once or twice, but the effect on his pocket did not annoy him. It soothed his self-regard a little to feel that Hattie was indirectly accepting something like a gift at his expense. He tried to give men, son EVENING POST her a few things withheld from the sale or remaining when it was over, but she in- sisted on paying for them—a narrow price, to be sure, but still a price. He helped her carry them home. She gave him supper in her shining kitchen, moving efficiently from stove to table and in and out of the inner room where her mother lay in bed. He said little, and she was even less inclined to words. He was vaguely op- pressed by a sense of desertion. When he had gone there would be no neighbor within two steep miles. But he shook off the thought. Hattie could look out for herself well enough, and it was no affair of Jud Wyatt's anyway. She came out to the gate with him when he left, the sun already hidden behind the westward hills, the valley a green pool of shadows, a sudden, premonitory coolness in the air. “Well, good-by, Hat.’’ He paused awk- wardly, kicking at a tall spray of wild carrot with the bulged toe of his new shoe. “Much obliged for the supper.” “You're bound to go, Jud?” The question startled him, angered him feebly. Did she think he was a fool, to sell out before his mind was made up? “Guess so. “Well, good-by,”’ she said. A whining call came from the house and quickened his departure. He turned at the bend and looked back. Hattie had not moved from her place at the gate, waist deep in the flat ash-silver fronds of the carrot. He waved his arm clumsily and went on. As he passed his own gate he stopped again. The windows had been shuttered, the weather-worn door closed and locked. He felt suddenly a sense of absurdity in these precautions. Locking the door, as if the house still held something of value! Why, it looked as if he expected to come back! He went quickly up the weedy walk, turned the key and kicked the door wide. Then with a consciousness of release he tramped down toward the Cor- ners and the railroad. Twenty-four hours later he lay on a bare wooden bench in the cell room of a Boston police station, listening to the cheerful up- roar of a drunken boy in the opposite cage. The store clothes he wore had lost their uncomfortable newness; the coat was split down the back, and the slimy black ooze of the paved street had begun to dry and stiffen where he had rolled in it. His head throbbed savagely where the night stick had lifted a great welt, and his wrist was raw from the chafing of a chain handcuff. The money he had brought with him from the hills had gone, and he knew that he faced serious trouble in the morning, when they teok him into court. But he was fiercely triumphant, nevertheless. He had been right, all along. There was no pith in these people. He chuckled mirth- lessly as he went back over the panic in the bar when he discovered that the friendly woman had picked his pocket. He still saw her as a conquest —she had chosen him, of all the passing crowd on the narrow walk. And she had been like the women he had studied as they passed in their cars or stopped for rest or water at the farm—soft and white and silken, a thing of wonder- fully fragile fingers and strange heady scents, who laughed at nothing and hummed a funny little song. As for robbing him, he bore no malice. That was part of the game as they played it down here, he saw. It would be different next time. But the memory of what had happened when she had left him alone at the little table, and he felt for the worn wallet that had been his father’s—this fired him like strong drink. He could see the sudden startled turning of white faces, the scurry and press to clear his path, the deliberate, confident advance of the bull-necked man who blocked his rusn while the girl escaped. He touched the tender spot on nis cheek bone where the fist had landed before he got his hands on the fat short neck. Others had interfered, he knew—three or four of them. He remembered getting solidly home with his foot on one of them. Then police, first one and then two more; it had taken four of them to handle him, and every one of them bore his mark before they got him into the wire-screened motor. Soft, puny people, just as he had always thought. It didn’t matter what they did to him in the morning. He'd been right, from the beginning, about them. A man who could stay alive in the hills could be a king down here. He slept in spite of the clamor across the narrow passage, and in the morn- ing listened unmoved to a judicial lecture August 7,1920 ending in a suspended sentence conditioned on his leaving town. They were afraid of him, eh? Well, they’d better be! He ignored the warning to get out of the city, and found a job on the docks, unload- ing bananas from a new white-painted steamer. It was easy work; the hours amused him and the pay offered was hardly believable. At noon a shambling fellow worker demanded a look at his card. Argu- ment followed. He discovered that he was forbidden to work except as a member of a union. It was pure instinct to defy such an edict. At quitting time he found seven or eight of them waiting for him menac- ingly, and welcomed the appeal to the type of reasoning he preferred. He slept in a city hospital that night, and was discharged late next day, with seven stitches under a ban- dage which he tore clear before he had walked a square. He found new work easily enough, this time in the shipping room of a wholesale- provision house. There was no union here, but the confinement oppressed him, the routine of wheeling an endless succession of cases across a fifty-foot strip of floor teased shrewdly at his nerves. The foreman cursed him for some trivial fault. He dropped his truck and sprang at the man like a cat. The other workmen separated them—not easily—-and Wyatt gathered himself painfully from foul cobbles after a fall from the wagon-platform. He drifted after this from one job to another, always with the same result a growing hatred of the dull task, a con- tempt for the men who worked beside him, seemingly contented or apathetic, humble under reproaf, an outburst of vio- lence, ending in discharge or the police cells. He served several short terms in county jails for these affairs, suffocated in the crowding walls and the dead evil air. Here he encountered men who talked in sidewise whispers of the road, of migrations on the brake beams of freight cars, of jobs involving little labor and paying huge profits in return for risk. He listened, tempted sometimes to follow them, but holding back under a restraint he did not seek to understand. But he learned their way of travel and used it, trying one city after another, never conquering but never conquered, his belief in himself undiminished, his hatred of the weaker men who combined against him constantly deepening, and with it his con- tempt. He had less respect for the vagrants who rode the rods, readily sensing their inferiority even to the stooped, spindly men who coughed contentedly in lint-laden cot- ton mills or inhaled the poisonous dust of paint works. Among the wanderers he held his own easily; they did not run to the police when he bested them, at least. He was twenty-three when the accident of the fight in the box car flung him out into the rich farmlands of the low country and gave him his first real understanding of his mistake. And when he thought of the hills, even while he choked in a venomous cell, he had no regrets. Anything was bet- ter than the life he had left behind him up there. mi WEEK was enough to toughen his hands and brown his face, to harden the disused muscles to the half-forgotten tasks. It sufficed, too, to confirm his first impression of the land and its people. He studied both between narrowed eyelids, warily concealing a mounting contempt for the men and a steadily deepening wonder at the soil. After the first breakfast he was fed and lodged at a lesser house, where a permanent hand and his wife furnished board for the more transient labor. The food was better and more plentiful than any diet he had known. He felt his strength grow in him as he ate, and listened in silence to the whining grumble of the other boarders. His bed was clean and comfortable, and he did not mind the heat which sometimes lingered in the metal roof above him until bedtime. He had no wish to fraternize with the others, and accepted their hostility with something like satisfaction. They reminded him of men he had met in his wanderings; away from familiarsurroundings they would be lost dogs. Here they were given to boastings, to braggart tales of their smart- ness, to rehearsals of their repartees, to flat foul anecdote at which they sniggered and slapped knees. The land fascinated him like a miracle. He loved to kick at the crumbling loam between the corn rows; to run a handful (Continued on Page 145)

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Ee et ot —— Soe, (Continued from Page 142) between his fingers, feeling the warm damp- ness of it against his calloused skin like a caress. There was one field of bottom soil with fifty acres within its square-cornered fences and as level as a floor, out of which potatoes thrust up flowering vines that seemed to grow while he watched them. He marveled at the horses— huge Clydes- dales and rangy Hambletonians, in such condition as no hill horseflesh had ever been; at the milk machines which they called cows here in the flat, fat country; at the size of the mows and bins. But he grinned sourly at the implements—lazy men’s tools, with seats on them, even to cultivators and plows and harrows; at the side-delivery hayrakes, which whirled the hay into long windrows to be straddled by a racked wagon dragging a loading device; at the power sprayer, which covered four rows of potatoes faster than a man could walk. They were afraid of work, he told himself, these flatland men; any one of them would starve in the hills. A conscious superiority which he troubled less and less to hide increased the suspicion and dislike with which they regarded this sulky silent tramp whom Matthew Bray had thrust upon their company. Toward Matthew Bray himself he enter- tained a different sort of scorn. The old man did no work whatever with his own hands; he wore white clothes, invariably spotless, and drove about his fields in a light buckboard drawn by a bay colt. He dealt leniently with his men, speaking them gently, with suggestions rather than orders. ‘Charley, don’t you and Bill want to draw that jag of oats down from the east lot?” Or: “Harris, guess you might as well go to cutting that alfalfa after dinner.” Jud Wyatt saw the others taking ad- vantage of his tolerance in a dozen ways, and, despising them, despised Bray the more. Lucky for the lot of them they hadn’t been born in the hills, where you worked or starved or froze! He worked willingly himself, less for the sake of any honest impulse than from a sullen pride in his strength. As the new- comer, the harder tasks fell naturally to him, and he accepted them with a sour pleasure. Two dollars a day—a clear fifty a month, of which he need not spend a penny. Ina year he would have five hun- dred, or nearer six—more than he and his fathe or had saved ina lifetime and a half! ‘It’s two dollars more’n you're worth— or two like you,”’ he snarled suddenly when Charley Graney grumbled over his wage. ‘““Where I come from we'd do two days’ work before you're awake.” “I see you got rich doin’ it,” said Charley. The others whinnied approval, and Jud, unclenching his hands, drew back into him- self. He could beat them all, but what use? There were better things to be done. He found the working day absurdly short, measured by the standards born in him. Eight hours in a factory seemed an eternity, but ten hours at the farm labor was absurdly little; there were two good hours of daylight before these people stirred in their beds. They quit while the sun was another hour short of setting, wasting their twilight on the porch of the boarding house. Slowly he conceived a plan for turning his own wasted daylight to account. There was no need of stopping at two dollars a day, when he woke at the first slant of the dawn and was unwearied when the quitting bell boomed over the fields. He had noticed a huge heap of stove wood, sawed to fourteen-inch lengths and halved or quartered with the ax, but still to be split before it could be burned. It lay along the fringe of the woodiot on the ad- joining farm. He asked a question or two and tramped over to interview the owner, a slow-spoken, bulbous man of sixty-five or more, who smoked comfortably in a splint chair and listened approvingly to Jud’s proposal. He got out stove wood for winter sale in Athens and Millersville, but he hadn’t got round to splittin’ yet and reckoned he might as well wait till farm work eased up. ““What’d you pay, if you waited?” “Might have to go as high as sixty cents a cord—pilin’ an’ splittin’ bot h.’ “I'll do it now for fifty,”’ said Jud. “I got some spare time I'd like to use.” He was willing to take forty. He knew that he could make wages at even less than that. Michael Raker dropped in his regard when he accepted the first offer. Soft, like the rest of them! Thereafter he had a use for the time between dawn and breakfast, tramping across a dew-wet pasture in the THE SATURDAY cool of the sunrise. He put in another hour or more at night, and on Saturday after- noons, when the rest knocked off for their weekly trip into town, he chuckled as he watched them go and counted the extra gain he made by staying in the woodlot. He worked there every Sunday as well, till the pile was done, and Raker settled with him, measuring his stacked cords justly, without even attempting to cheat. Sometimes on his early journeys he caught a glimpse of a wispy figure in a faded black coat dodging about between the crowding boles of the woods. He had already learned who Andy was—Old Andy Weeds, they called him at the farm. Sometimes he had seen the old fellow close by, at work in the pastures and grasslands, with his half-bushel basket of hickory strips overflowing with daisy or wild carrot or dock, and had marveled at the lowland trick of hand- weeding their meadows. In the hills they were glad enough to get the hay in, weeds and all. As for the pastures, what the stock refused to eat grew as it pleased. There were no hands to spare for such fancywork as pulling carrot—even when the hands were trembling with age and the mind which ruled them childish again. ““Andy’s a funny old nut,” they told Wyatt, when he asked. ‘Crazy about pullin’ weeds. Won't do nothin’ else. They say he went loony when he was a kid and kep’ right on doin’ what he was doin’ then. Bray pays him so much an acre to keep down the carrot and stuff. Lives in a shanty back o’ the gully, all by himself. No harm in him. Jest simple.” Wyatt lost interest in the old man, thus explained. He became merely another proof that they were soft of head as well as of back, here in this fat country. But the sight of Andy among the trees at sunup revived his curiosity a little. He might be crazy, as Charley said, but he was sound in the matter of hours, at least. He didn’t lie on his back while the best part of the day got away from him, even if he did waste his work on such nonsense as weeding pas- tures. He watched the shrunken figure thereafter with a certain sympathy. Andy worked better than the rest of them. Wyatt found himself drawn toward him by some instinct he did not understand. Once when he was in the upper pasture after a colt he came on the old fellow at his work, stood within a few feet of him before Andy observed his presence. “There, now—don’t make such a fuss. It’s all right.” He caught the words distinctly, and the voice in some queer trick of key conveyed the impression of a human listener. It was not in the least like the voice of one who talks to himself. An ancient superstition stirred in Wyatt—the reflection of pro- genitors to whom the witless had been at once sacred and uncanny, traffickers with old gods, seers of the unseen. But his eye appraised the figure reassuringly. The reedy arms and legs were comically frail and impotent. He could see the face now pink and smooth and plump, like a child's, so that the thick white hair seemed not to belong to it; he might have been a boy in a powdered wig. “T know it hurts a mite, but you'll live to thank Andy for it.” Again Wyatt had the sense of some in- visible auditor and glanced une: asily over his shoulder. But there was only the tall stems of dried grasses, the sway of the stunted limbs of a thorn apple, the chirping twitter of small yellow birds in the leaves. Andy looked up, apprehension in his pale eyes and gathered shoulders. Jud Wyatt could see a tre amor in the long laced spray of carrot gripped in the shriveled hands. He half resented Andy's fear of him. He didn't hurt old men. ‘Pullin’ carrot, eh?” He spoke pleas- antly, and the alarm faded out of the eyes. ““Yes-s—yes-s."" The old man prolonged the sibilant hissingly. ‘‘ You goin’ to help me? There’s a sight of it.” “Not me.” Jud grinned at the idea. “I’m working for Bray,” he added. Andy’s face changed so that Jud detected a trace of condescension in it—some thing like the look with which Harris and Charley and Bill regarded him. Andy had heard about him, he guessed; knew that he was nothing but a tramp, despised him like the rest of the stupid soldiering crew. He scowled. The old man seemed to under- stand his thought. “Never mind,” he said kindly. “’Tain’t everyone can work for my boss. He's sorta p’tic’lar. I thought mebbe you might be the help I been askin’ for.’ 9 EVENING POST “T thought you worked for Bray too.” Wyatt was puzzled. Instantly Andy re- vealed offense. His plump face twisted, his eyes grew bright and angry. “Work for Matt Bray? Not me! I'm workin’ for’’— he dropped his voice to a tone of boyish confidence—“ I’m workin’ for God.” He pointed skyward with a thumb, in a gesture at once furtive and prideful. “‘’Tain’t easy. He's mighty keer- less "bout some things.”” He wagged his head. “Specially fences. Makes a sight o’ work for me.” Wyatt grinned at the conceit. Working for God! The old bug was nuttier than they made him out to be. He waved a hand and moved away. The interview strengthened his conviction that among these people he could do as he pleased. His wood splitting finished, he made a new bargain with Raker, and proceeded to fell and trim the dead timber in his wood- lot, in spite of the season, at a fixed price for each log he left for the hauling. He saw Andy often on his early errands amid the trees, a vague figure flitting in and out of vision among the stippling shadows, the great hickory basket in the bend of his arm, a mass of weed tops protruding. Once, coming suddenly out on the lip of a small gully where a trickling brook had cut deep into the hill, he found the old man spat- tering water on a great sheaf of carrot, and his curiosity urged him to a question: “*What do you do with "em, Andy?” The old fellow started, straightened, plainly terrified. He studied Wyatt's eyes earnestly without speaking. The fear went out of his face and a kind of cunning re- placed it. He laid a finger on his lips. “Sh! That's a secret, that is. Mine an’ God's. Nobody else knows. They wouldn’t understand. They'd put the carrot in the road, like Daniel McFee, or burn it on a brush pile, like Saul Baker. They don’t know what the carrot’s for. But God and Andy know.” He chuckled shrilly, wagging his head. Wyatt left him, faintly amused at the whimsy. The poor old fool thought there was a use for such weeds as wild carrot! He saw suddenly that Matthew Bray and his neighbors profited by the delusion; Andy fought their weeds for them for prac- tically nothing. No wonder they put up with his insanity! He remembered old women, back in the hills, who had patiently harvested weeds— yarbs, they called them and made medicines of them. But not even they had included the carrot in their collections. He spent a few dollars on heavy boots and some coarse clothes, but nearly all his earnings went into the bank at Athens, where a stout silent man with a great two- pronged gray beard eyed him with a deepen- ing attention over each deposit slip. His hands interested Wyatt—they were so swollen and so soft and white—white as a toad’s belly, he thought. John Sinnot was rich, according to the farm gossip, a shrewd, grasping money-maker, lending at illegal interest and trading cannily in lands and mortgages. To Wyatt the circumstance was an added encouragement. This pulpy man whom he could throttle with one hand had grown fat on the folly of the valley folk. He could do better—far better. He was vaguely pleased when Sinnot beckoned him inside the brass grille work after he had banked a month's earnings and a check from Raker besides. There was a certain recognition in the gesture, as if Sinnot saw in him what the empty-headed hands at the boarding house could not see, He took the chair which the banker offered and waited silently for him tospeak. Sinnot stroked one prong of the huge beard, a rhythmie recurrent gesture which drew down one cheek and eyelid without disturb- ing the even stare of his small recessed eyes “Been watchin’ you all summer, Wyatt,” he said at last. ‘Thrifty, ain’t you? Don’t aim to spread your money out thin over the town every Sat'd’y night, eh?” Wyatt grinned without speaking. ‘** Makes me sort of wonder why you keep on workin’ for Matt Bray—a man like you. There’s a sight of good land for sale round here. You could be workin’ for yourself if you wanted to,” “‘Got to get more money first,’”” Wyatt shrugged. ‘Might buy a place when I get ready.” “You got enough to buy one right now,” said Sinnot quickly. ‘I got eighteen acres over on Mill Creek I'd let you have on easy terms. You could be bringin’ up the land while you paid off on it. Good soil, but it ain't been worked for two-three years.” 145 Jud was interested but wary. Sinnot had no name for benevolence. “What'd you ask?” “Only a thousand-—-a quarter down an’ the rest easy—as you make it. There's a house and a good barn. About ten acres clear and the rest in second-growth timber. Just the place for a man that ain't too much afraid of work.’ Vyatt felt a sudden weakening of his fixed hostility. Flabby and swollen as the man was, he saw what the rest of them overlooked. He knew that Jud Wyatt was a better man than the valley-bred wasters and idlers. “I'll go out Sunday and take a look,”’ he said carelessly. ‘I might take you up if I like it.” “I'll drive you out myself,” suggested Sinnot quickly. “Just as easy as not.” Wyatt shrugged. He would have pre- ferred to inspect the property alone, but the six-mile walk would cut deeply into his usual Sunday work in the woods, and he knew that Sinnot could not sell him any- thing he did not want to buy. He was rather surprised when they fin- ished their examination. The ten-acre clearing lay flat in a wide bend of Mill Creek —rich dark loam better than any land on Matthew Bray’s farm. The woodland along the creek consisted mainly of soft- wood, but his eye told him that he could cut enough stave bolts here to pay for the place. The buildings were paintless and dejected of surface, but he saw that their frames were sound and plumb. A little tinkering in odd minutes would make them as good as new — better than the new houses they built nowadays. He had picked up enough of land prices to know that the figure Sinnot quoted was distinctly low. He spoke to Matthew Bray and Raker, and both confirmed his judgment that the place was a bargain. He bought it, paying two hundred and fifty dollars down and re- ceiving in return a straightforward docu- ment agreeing to deliver deed and title on receipt of seven hundred and fifty more, in five semiannual installments of a hundred and fifty each. There was a clause in the agreement which disturbed him a little: ‘In the event of failure to pay any of the aforesaid semi- annual installments, the said Judson Wyatt agrees that the entire balance remaining due shall become due and payable imme- diately, and if not paid on demand this sale shall be null and void and the real property hereinbefore described shall in such case remain the sole property of John Sinnot.” “Just a matter of form,” said Sinnot gravely. “I'm selling you this place pretty cheap, as it is, and I don’t aim to be put to the expense of suit and foreclosure if you lay down on me. This way, if you don't pay, | keep the land, without botherin’ the sheriff. That's how I do business anyway. Take it or leave it.” Jud Wyatt took it. He walked back to the Bray farm with his copy of the agree- ment crackling in his pocket. It seemed now as if the rolling country chuckled with him. He grinned thinly back at the smil- ing fields—his country now, owning the mastery of the man who was strong He thought of Laura Bray, with her white arms and her slow, enveloping smile, standing in the sweet-smelling dimness of her grandfather's kitchen. Between them till to-day he had seen and accepted the gulf which divides all farming communitic into those who own the land and those who merely labor on it. He had crossed that gulf now. And when the time came he would stretch out his hand and take tl woman he wanted, the soft, white, frag woman of his dreams. She passed him on the road, ke aning | * the seat of a scudding runabout drive by Lonnie Carlin, who had begun to pr tice law in his father’s office n Ather Jud Wyatt's glance ignored the glea: car, the trim smartne jacket, and saw only the and flat chest, the inward slant of the ol capa narrow nouldel He felt a laugh rise in his throat as ! irn tightened and eres What chance would such a soft] ave against those arms? When the time came he wou throw Lo nie Carlin out of his way as light as aspiit stick of stove wood He touched the tif] paper in his pocket and tramped on Iv INTER drew in with an amiable de- liberatior Jud left the Bray farm in October and moved into his own house, where he had installed a few essential (Continued on Page 148

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146 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST August 7,1920 % Pas y » %) | BY, Yanty gynd en, “TOUCH THE KEYS-" UP » COMES. | MECHANICAL :

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THE SATURDAY (Continued from Page 145) A little car- pentry made the roof weatherproof, the windows tight. He traded shrewdly for a cow and a few hens and feed for the winter. jt was more comfortable than the old house in the hills had ever been. Before the snow lay thick enough to halt the work he had cleared the plowland of the overgrowth of its idle years, mended He worked casually for neighboring farmers, chiefly in their woods, and slowly accumulated the money against his next payment. He had plenty of time for tinkering about his house and barn in the intervals of these labors, and he meditated daring improvements, with a thought of Laura Bray beyond them. A porch, for instance, where she could swing a box hammock like the one at the Bray place; running water in her kitchen; a telephone to gossip over. Somehow he conceived of these contempti- ble luxuries as part of her, so many tokens and expressions of the softness which he hated in the men and admired in the women of these flat fat fields. He felled some of his timber and cut it | into peeled stave bolts, which he piled be- side the road to be hauled when occasion suited. Early in the spring he made a sec- ond payment to John Sinnot and put a coat of white paint on the house. He started a garden and fitted his field for planting. He meant to work elsewhere this season, earn- ing money for his August payment, but he | knew that he could easily do what his own acres required while the valley people slept or loafed. The winter had deepened his contempt for his neighbors. The more he dealt with them the more certain he grew of his strength and their weakness. A dozen times men had stepped back before his tightened fists, eaahenatle and pacific, evading the fight he offered. One— Charley Graney—had accepted a sweeping flat- handed slap on his cheek without attempt- ing to return the blow. He caught his grocer in an overcharge and stood grinning while the fellow corrected the error with hands which shook visibly and lips which babbled excuses. A neighbor, coming to complain of damage done by Wyatt's cow, departed unappeased, walking swiftly and with frequent backward glances. They were afraid of him, he told himself. They could afford to be! A dispute over a stove-wood contract broke off his relations with Raker and led | to a suit before the justice of the peace in Athens. Young Lonnie Carlin represented Raker and tangled Jud Wyatt hopelessly on thestand. He lost his case and paid eighteen dollars, after a talk with Sinnot, who made him understand that it would cost him more to carry on the argument. Later, | meeting Carlin in the street, he yielded to | a sudden impulse and gripped the slim serge arm firmly. “Feel that?” “Take your hands off me!” He saw that Carlin’s lips were white, and he laughed sourly. “Just givin’ you notice to keep out o’ my way after this, Carlin. There's other places besides law courts—an’ better ways 0’ findin’ out who's the best man.” He dropped the arm and swaggered past, the memory of the fright in Carlin’s eyes soothing the sting of his defeat. When the time came Carlin wouldn't wait to be thrown out of his way—he’d run like a scared rabbit, at a word. He bought himself a slow-going sturdy horse and a solidly built old-fashioned buck- board, contemptuous of appearances and speed, intent on value. He made a point of stopping at the Bray farm in his drives past, to discuss crops with Matthew Bray, who met him always with a formal courtesy. He saw Laura usually on these visits, and contrived to make it clear in her hearing that he prospered. In about another year, he told himself. Laura nodded and smiled at him pleasantly always, but he felt dimly that she understood hisintent and approved. Women thought more of strength than men did, he told himself. When the time came In late July he heard that the farm next his own was on the market, and made haste to buy it. The owner, an old man whose sons had gone to the city long before, was moving into Athens. He objected feebly to Wyatt's proffered terms of payment, but Jud, inwardly amused, overbore him, so that he signed at last, with a sort of fright- ened eagerness, and took his check with a mumbling flow of thanks. EVENING POST Wyatt chuckled over the memory of it. They had begun to realize what he was, to understand the difference between his strength and their flabbiness of nerve and muscle. He had drawn most of his savings to make the payment, and to meet the next installment due to Sinnot on the original transaction he decided to accept an offer for his stave bolts which he had left unan- swered. He hired another horse and a wagon and hauled them to the siding. The buyer paid him cash when the car was loaded, after his careless promise to fix it up on Saturday had brought him face to face with Wyatt’s level cold show of dis- pleasure. He dragged the bills out of his hip pocket nervously and his hand shook as he thumbed the count. “Just as lief pay now, Wyatt— make a mite o’ difference to me. Wyatt pocketed themoneysilently. They were all alike. They were all afraid of him. He drove to the bank and deposited the bills. John Sinnot, stroking the gray tusk of beard, eyed him pleasantly and com- mented on the weather. On his way back to the farm he kept to the crown of the road, enjoying the impatient hooting of a motor horn behind him. He recognized the note. It was Carlin’s car. He did not look back. At the first crossroads he saw the hood dart up toward him, temptingly near. He drew lightly on one rein and the plod- ding team swerved obediently, throwing the hub of the left wheel over in time to catch the fender of the car. There was a crunch of bending metal. The car passed, stopped. He saw Carlin spring down and stand over the crumpled guard. “You did that on purpose, Wyatt! It’ll cost you a new fender, that’s all.” Wyatt grinned without answering. Car- lin, his temper mounting above discretion, stepped toward him. “You can’t bully everybody in this town, Wyatt. You’d better understand right now that ——”’ Wyatt dropped the reins and climbed down slowly. Carlin retreated instantly to the car, its engine still humming. “You can’t settle this with your hands,” he called. “I'll show you. Jud chuckled over it as he covered the remaining mile. He knew now that Carlin would never stand up to him, whatever the provocation. When the time came to take his girl away from him he would submit—and run—as he had done just now. There was no back- bone in these flatlanders. He saw Laura Bray on the porch as he passed the house, a white figure relaxed in the box hammock. He lifted an arm and grinned as he caught the white flutter of her answer. When he was ready he would have to do no more than that. She would come. Women knew better than men how to value hardness and strength—the softer they were themselves the better they understood men like Jud Wyatt. Vv OU like Lonnie Carlin?” He threw the question at her bluntly, after a comfortable silence. It was cool in the recessed porch behind the columns; there was a blent and somnolent hum of insects like a background for voices and stillness. Matthew Bray was in the village and Laura had urged him to wait. He had bought some new clothes out of the timber money— nothing like Carlin’s fashionable pleats and belts, but decent serviceable stuff which fitted his straight leanness fairly well. He felt approval in the girl’s glance. It prompted his sudden inquiry, that look. She spread her hands carelessly. ‘‘Oh, yes—sort of. He's good company, and he’s got a nice car.” “Reckon you'll marry him?” He gave the impertinence a droll inflec- tion which seemed to make an affirmative impossible. She shook her head quickly. ““No, I should say not. I’m not going to spend my life in a dead little place like Athens. I want’’—she hesitated, with an uncertain inclusive sweep of one white arm—‘‘I want some fun before I’m old. I want to see places—big cities, you know; theaters and stores and places to eat. I’m going to Stay here till I can go somewhere where it’s fun to be alive.” He grinned. She’d change her mind when he was ready. Fun! Cities! A blurred memory of the cities as he had known them came to him, the close lifeless air of them, the crowds of hurrying, under- sized people, the dirt and meanness and slyness, the irksome restraints of: petty laws, the strutting bull-necked police. don’t August 7,1920 “Oh, you think that’s funny!” she cried, misinterpreting his smile. ‘“‘ You wait and see. I’m going. There’s plenty of ways I can do it.” He shook his head. “I’ve seen ’em all— cities,” he said. ‘They can’t touch this. But I used to feel like you do, before I went. You have to find out for yourself, I reckon. You'd be glad to come back.” The words struck an echo in his brain. Where had he heard them before? He saw a sudden picture of Hattie Flint, waist deep in wild carrot, telling him as confidently that he would come back to the hills. The contrast pleased him. He tried to recall the details of the picture, to compare Hattie, feature by feature, with this girl. “Maybe. But I’d know, then. That’s what I hate—not knowing. It’s like stay- ing home from a party. Maybe you wouldn’t have a good time if you went, but you can’t tell unless you go. I want to go and see.’ “W ell, I guess you will if you feel that way. He rose, contemplating a new idea. It would be fun to go back to New York with Laura Bray, with decent clothes on his body and plenty of money in his pockets, to stay at a huge hotel and see plays from a box, to ride in taxicabs and order dress- suited waiters about in resounding supper places. He filed the thought away—a bait to be used if bait were needed. He drove away without waiting for Bray’s return, his mind still occupied pleas- antly with the contrast between the life he had left behind him and the prospect which seemed to draw very near, between Hattie and the harsh endless struggle for bare sur- vival in the hills, and Laura Bray and the placid easy life the flatlands promised. vi oo I got out an attachment on your account, Wyatt.”’ John Sinnot’s hand continued to stroke the pendent fork of his beard. ‘‘You’re lucky I didn’t have you arrested too. You cut off three hundred dollars’ wuth o’ timber and sold it without sayin’ a word to me. * That’s crim’nal. Law’s mighty plain.” “You're crazy. Wasn't it my land an’ my timber? Didn’t I “You don’t own a stick of it till it’s paid for. Look at the contract. You ec’n farm it but you can't sell off the standin’ timber without you turn the money over to me. Says so, plain as print. Took an’ sold my proputty, that’s what you did. It ain’t your money you got in the bank—it’s mine. I’m just protectin’ my rights.” “You can’t skin me, Sinnot! I’m not like these easy simps round here. I got two hundred an’ thirty-six dollars comin’ to me, an’ I’m goin’ to have it—now.” Wyatt moved to the gate in the railing, his arms flexed a little at the elbows, his shoul- ders low and forward. Without rising Sin- not reached into the drawer of his desk. His left hand clutched the tusk of his beard, its stroking motion arrested, and his right presented a steady gun. “Don’t try that on me, Wyatt. I’ve heard about you. You can scare some folks by doublin’ up your fists, but not me. Goan’ hire a lawyer if you ain't satisfied. And while you're at it get a hundred and fifty dollars that’s due on the place. This is the fifteenth. If you want to keep the farm bring me the money before three.” Jud Wyatt checked an impulse to risk the gun. Something told him that Sinnot would shoot, and shoot straight, if he opened the gate. His brain refused to be- lieve what the banker told him. It was his timber; he had a right to sell it. They couldn’t take his farm away from him on any such excuse—claim he couldn't meet his payments when there was more than enough in the bank to cover what was due. He turned and went out, blundering heav- ily into an entering customer, half blinded with the red mists that swam across his eyes. He found George Caxton in his musty law office over the hardware store and made the case clear to him. “They've got you, Wyatt. Old Sinnot’s about the slickest land shark outside of jail. He’s played this same racket before. Y ou’ve got to pay him a hundred and fifty before three o'clock or he owns your land. And you'll have to make good the rest of the money you got for the stave bolts or he can levy on your stock and tools.” He had to repeat and explain before Jud Wyatt could realize what had happened. Then, when the hillman’s anger flamed into speech, he calmed him patiently. (Concluded on Page 151)

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et pet eS _— ~—— ee THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 149 oy aA? as Pua essen Wc ae iain 55:1 te a ee splat al CLES ET Oe ET Te PEN YY Sy Ne ea PERK: Bx 3 gs & err is Eee FS SIE Fo eB * ys iy Ne : 7 bike # F- * : ay ¥ 4 Pe t ee anes eee a aa aw - was eke ~ pee su bn anak Sy ‘ { hee A Bey | & I ll as os QvVar_NoRR,s DIAMETER 3 —_— 4 ~ Ca sive your motor more power ~and save gas All gas engine owners are fully alive to the fact that tl Which insures equal tension against the cylinder wall. ust f ol is increasing { ter than it production They No other ring is made of the ime cla of metal melted know thi to stop its waste--especially in these in the only electric furnace used in the country for piston days of high price ring purpose ind which insures long wear, durability, elasticit Save Gas, Yes! But How? They Save More Money Than Ever For Motors wah nsdn wn he ¥ iy > Aa ie * ' oe a + ie Phe price of the real \egaxtRooe Rings hasn't advance that “‘pump oil” anes I his Rae th is hu in apr a er Se eee : ey Save Rae tigre ae hen yee d ‘ i , : sal They imerease motor power, save fuel, and help decreas rownel mave learned 1 Most ce nhomicai carbon trouble The vy oare mace in evers ize an E over-size to fit every make and model of gas engine Worn Rings Waste Fuel and Power . - our repairman has your size rings in his shop or cat P » . ’ 4 You can't see the gas ¢ pe past worn or poorly de- get them promptly from his jobber’s complete stocl iw wd pist rings, but it does escape in surprisingly Pa . . 4 large quantities. For the last ten years this hidden wast Write for This Booklet ’ ; ; ; i a el bee ( ful Col lle | ) the use ol . 1 ' 4 ~ " . | r) ; It how why these t e-tried ft I Pa WV () en t ° rhe ‘ Mand so ? . | Oo nore OWET lk furs I | } the : si : | Ff ? i \ { t V ’ i 4 \ 1 ; ill ! F Q 4 I ])l \ | lt | 1 re ed into pa it Iso j | Ps Fe ‘ } ‘ | ‘ i ind hel consery t of ] cl Lake ( ou Hill ¢ SN | vil supy Addi —_ I N | ! ( | et eal \eanhRoow design I) t B f= 4 \ \ pom : / wr ‘ earnlRoor | n 7 . . ‘ ‘ be T w Ps 7 288 © “4 . . . Rings for full cor MecQuay-Norris Manufacturing Co., St. Louis, U.S.A. i € ' t 4 -_ BKANCH OFFICES , A New York Chicago Philadelphia Boston Pittsburgh San Francisco Kansas City Pid oO Seatt St. Paul Columbus Atlanta Memphis Omaha Dallas 7 9 ( M ris Mix Canadian Factory: W. H. Banfield & Sons, Ltd., 120 Adelaide St. West, Toronto oF

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST August 7, 1920 Vix hh 2 BS 43° es y y y ~ SS 4 4 - 4 J+ °@ ‘ ~ /* - Why Men Came to Millers The demand, in late years, has multiplied 20-fold The Miller Rubber Co. Akron, Ohio Also makers of Miller Inner Tubes, built layer on layer The highest at tainment in aninnertube,red or gray Tread Patented Center tread smooth with suction cups, to firmly urasp wet asphalt. Geared- to-the-Road side treads mesh like cogs in dirt A sensation in Tiredom, in the past few years, They have won countless truck car users who has been the Miller Tire. have come to pneumatics. Many taxicab companies have tried and adopted them. And in places like Since 1915, the Miller experts have more than Billings, Montana, where White busses take the place doubled their average tire mileage Since 1914, the of street cars, they are equipped with Miller Tires. demand for Millers has multiplied 20-fold And this year, with hundreds of thousands now Men Began Talking S« Mille » der s twice I . discussing the iller, the demand i wice larger The: comme wk me talbin “ than ever know tires best are these large users, who spend A 24-Year Attainment thousands per month for tires Then Miller dealers began to watch records. They ° ¢ j é é 24 ars t 5 The Miller Tire really started years ago, when put Miller Tires opposite rival tires and drivers kept we began the making of super-grade rubber good . : Ten veas an we heaan to develon the Mille: cast the records Within two year these dealers every £ tis . ag e I ai where had figures which were resistless. And hun oO t dreds of thousands of users had gained new ideas It was a good tire then, but millions of dollars about tires been since spent to better it. Many able men That is what developed this nation-wide demand for have have ceaselessly worked on it They keep 250 tire the Miller Last year increase was $11,000,000 constantly running here under observation. And they This year’s increase, at the present rate, will exceed that excel $25,000,000. And all because these remarkable tires have created new criterion study every tire They spend $1,000 daily just to watch and test tir and materials They change anything at any ote . ian ie What They’ll Save You cost formula, shape or fabric when a way i found to improve it . ' Tire mileage depends largely on load and roads, Thus, in the past few years alone, they have more on size and care. The only way to know what Miller Tires will save you is to try them. Compare them than cut in two the tire cost of men who use the Miller with the tires you use, under like conditions. The Million-Mile Tests In Boston, where the Green & Swett Co. watched 2,000 tires, Millers excelled from 50 per cent to Three years ago we began to urge large users f /2 per cent. to make long comparative tests. Thousands of such tests have been made since then-—some of them You owe such tires a test. See what our doubled million-mile tests. And from 15 to 21 rival makes mileage means to you It may save you many a were compared with Millers in them dollar It may change your conception of modern tires The result is that Miller Tires dominate now in some services extra severe For instance, on the Try one or two tires. Or, if you buy a new car, largest Pacific Coast stage lines, where large, heavy get Miller equipment. Twenty makers now supply busses are run at high speed it without extra cost. CORDS Geared-to-the-Road FABRICS Registered U. S. Patent Office The Winners in Million-Mile Tests

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(Concluded from Page 148) “Now what would killing old Sinnot get you? He’s got some of your money, but there’s plenty more money in the world, and you can get your share of it, same as you got what he’s flimflammed out of you. But you go down there and kill him and what happens? Before you can go two miles they'll run you down—not one or two, but twenty of ’em. They’ll stick you in the jail over at Millersville, and in about a year they’ll sit you in the chair down at Auburn. Don’t be a darned fool. He's got the best of you, that’s all. Go out and get the best of him the same way. You got the same chance he had. The law's as fair for one as for the other.” Jud Wyatt stumbled down the scuffed pine stairs to the street, the words in his ears, mocking him. As fair for one as the other! They’d made their tricky laws, these soft-handed fatland folks, to suit themselves. They hid behind them, cheat- ing better men under their cover and for- bidding better men to strike back with their naked hands. Go out and get the best of John Sinnot! How? Outwit a weasel, run down a fox, afoot! Man to man he could kill Sinnot with his ten fingers in as many seconds. But Sinnot stood safe be- hind the laws—the laws that allowed him to use a gun and forbade even fists to the men he robbed! The extent of the disaster came slowly home to him. He had lost the farm, and Sinnot was the richer for all the work he had put into it. He would lose the addi- tional land he had bought too. Probably under shelter of the law Sinnot would seize his horse and cow and the few sticks of fur- niture. He had worked for these things earned them in sweat and weariness—and Sinnot took them from him without lifting one of his fat toad-skin hands! As he passed the bank he stopped, tempted by the impulse to adjust the bal- ance with his bare hands. But Caxton’s warning held him back. He couldn't fight them all. Killing Sinnot would be killing himself. He started, and a slow grin relaxed his lips. A fellow could climb up the spout of the Odd Fellows’ Block and drop right down on the roof of the bank. Just a skylight to get past after that, and the door of the safe. Soup would be better, but dynamite would do. He had heard yeggs describe the pro- cess often enough to be sure that he could do it as well as they. And there was dynamite out on the farm, plenty of it, left over from his stump blasting. A set of drills also. Why, it would be easy! And safe too. There was only one constable on duty at night, and his beat took him almost a mile from the bank. A fellow could easily time things so that he could get away clean. He laughed as he thought of the money in the safe—money enough to buy ten years of a man’s work. Go out and get the best of Sinnot, Caxton had advised. He chuckled at the memory. Suddenly he thought of Laura Bray and her hunger for fun, for lights and laughter and the sights of cities. With money —— he shut his lips narrowly. She would come with him. Show her money and she’d do it. He went back to the farm at the best speed his horse could offer. With a glow of pleasure he drove a hurried bargain with a neighbor, selling him the stock and tools at a fool’s figure, dominating the man’s hesitancy with a level menacing eye. They were still afraid of him. They didn’t know that John Sinnot had stripped him bare. It was dusk when he stopped at the door of the Bray kitchen. Laura was busy with supper dishes and he helped her dry them, talking swiftly. He had come in for a lot of money—a lot of it—thousands. He was through with work. He'd giver: up the farm and sold off the stock. He talked easily of a future in big cities, watching her narrowly. “T wish I was going too,” she said sud- denly. “With me?” He flashed the question at her. She flushed, fingering the cloth in her hands. “Want me to?” “Yes. That’s why I told you.” He pressed the advantage. ‘‘We could drive over to the junction and catch the limited. You could borrow a horse from your grand- father, I guess. We'd be in New York by morning and we could git married there.” “T don’t know.”” She twisted the cloth helplessly. “I want to, but I’m afraid. He overrode the doubt. ‘ You be waiting for me at the stable—about one o'clock. THE SATURDAY I'll hitch up when I git there. Got to hurry now. Lot to do afore I start.” He left her staring after him, her face flushed, her eyes wide, a curious look of indecision in them, of helplessness. He grinned as he struck across the fields toward the village. No roads for him to-night. He mustn’t be seen or they might suspect. If he worked it right they’d never be able to prove anything against him. The drills clinked in his pocket and he stopped to wad them with leaves. A step sounded as he finished. He looked up cautiously. The sight of Andy’s shriveled figure re- assured him. The old man stooped beside his basket, busy at some task which the thickening dusk obscured from Wyatt's eyes. And his high-pitched voice came clearly through the shadows: “There now — didn’t I tell you? You don’t have to worry. Andy knows what's good for you—Andy and God.” Wyatt shook his head. The poor old bug! Talking to his everlasting weeds as if they were people! He craned his neck to see better. Andy lifted a thick spray from the basket, smoothed it gently and bent to the ground. Wyatt saw this time. The old man thrust a dibble of sharpened wood * into the soil, worked it about to enlarge the hole, and slipped the long root of a wild carrot into it, tamping the mold gently back into place. “There—you're back where you belong now. It’s better for you than down in the clover, even if you don’t like it. Andy knows— Andy and God.” Wyatt checked a laugh. The old fool was replanting the weeds he toiled all day to pull! That explained his sprinkling them, that day by the creek! He glanced about him. Matthew Bray’s woods! He hugged the joke on the farmer—paying for weeds which were replanted on his own ground before they wilted! He moved incautiously, and Andy heard him. The old fellow straightened quickly, peering toward the sound, his shoulders huddling as if he were frightened. “It’s only me, Andy.” Wyatt yielded to an idle urge of compassion. “Oh!” There was relief in the voice. “T thought it might be Matt Bray. He wouldn’t understand. Nobody does, ex- cept me. They can’t hear God talkin’ to ’em like Andy does. They just hate every- thing that grows except crops an’ timber.” He chuckled thinly. ‘They think I’m crazy. I’ve heard ’em say so!” “No!” Wyatt feigned surprise, curiously tolerant, a rare good humor softening him as he saw the end of the game, the trumps and stakes in his hands. ““Yes-s. They don’t know any better. But if they found out they’d be ugly. They hate weeds—even wild carrot. Put it out in the road for the wheels to run over. Burn it on brush fires. They don’t know about Andy. Andy plants ‘em all back where they belong—early, before Matt Bray’s awake, and late, when he’s gone inside his house.” “Why, Andy?” Wyatt approached. He could see the lip and slope of the gully now, catch the queer keen smell of wet leaves which lifted from the trickle of water below. All down the shifting slant of rotting shale he saw the lacelike stems and flat ashen flowers of the carrot. He chuckled. Andy planted them exactly wheré they could spread their seeds over the flatlands most easily; the brook would plant millions of i ee : aE . | / | or _ -— ie FI See : EVENING POST them when it overflowed. The old man twitched his sleeve. “You wouldn't tell Matt Bray, would you? He'd be angry.” “*Not me. I’m goin’ away to-night, any way. Why do you plant this stuff up here?” “Why, here’s where it belongs. Don't you see? Carrot ain’t meant to grow down in the fat lands, Jud. There’s plenty o’ things that can grow there—corn and pota- toes and wheat. Ph! Crops!" His voice was edged with contempt. ‘Like to see corn grow down there in those rocks! Corn’s got to be nursed an’ petted like a sick baby, ’r it won’t grow anywhere at all. But~ carrot—why, nothin’ can hurt it! Carrot’s my favor-ite.” He stroked a tall stem lovingly. “It’s mighty hard to kill,” agreed Wyatt. He ought to be moving, instead of stand- ing here wasting time on this old lunatic’s chatter. But the hand on his sleeve held him. He did not understand his submis- sion, the heritage of hill-bred generations to whom the simple-minded were a link with God. “*Yes-s—when it grows in its own place,” said Andy eagerly. ‘‘Nothin’ hurts the carrot when it stays where God planted it.” He lowered his voice confidentially. ‘I'll tell you—you aren't like Matt Bray an’ the rest. You understand.” “Sure. That’s right, Andy.” Again his good nature puzzled Wyatt. It was getting dark fast, and he had three miles and more to cover twice, besides the time he would need inside the bank. And yet he was in no hurry to be gone. “God hates bare places. That’s the secret. He can’t abide ‘em. That's why he made the carrot, and the other flowers that can grow anywheres at all—to cover up the naked ground like a garden. You can understand. You go an’ dig up a piece o’ ground anywheres— grub out every grass root, and go ’way an’ leave it. God just covers it up before you turn your back. Don’t he? Eh?” He twitched at Wyatt's sleeve again. Jud nodded. ‘That's so, Andy. Never thought of it like that.” “But God’s too busy to make the carrot an’ daisy an’ burdock stay where he puts ‘em. It ain’t his fault. Anybody'd git keerless about his fences, havin’ to look after everything, the way God does. You would yourself, Jud. So the carrot gits into the fat lands when God ain’t lookin’ the same as steers’ll git into the corn when the fence ain't tight. Andy just drives em back, that’s all.” Wyatt nodded, his slow fancy caught by the homely figure, the crude logic of the theory. “Sort of tough on the carrot, though,” he objected. “‘ Maybe it likes the fat land better’n a place like that.” He waved hishandattheshale. ‘Maybe it wants an easy place to grow in, the same as corn.” Andy chuckled. ‘Oh, it does. But that’s because it don’t know what's best for it any more’n a steer knows better’n to kill himself in the corn. But I'll tell you—it ain’t good for the crops to have the carrot growin’ in their ground, but it’s worse for the carrot. Yes-s. You take a carrot that grows where it belongs an’ it’s a flower ain’t nothin’ lovelier’n a big bank of ’em Down in the fields it just a big ugly weed, So we put it back, growin’ in a gully. gets to be a weed like Matt Bray says. 151 Andy an’ God. We know what's good for ig Wyatt turned away chuckling. The idea amused him, appealed to a hill-bred vein of fancy. He pondered it as he tramped across the woodland toward the town, the weight of his drills and brace sagging his pockets. The poor old fool, herding his flocks of flowering weeds patiently back into the waste places—God's fences—the fat lands, where the soft crops grew. It was like one of the old tales of fairies he had heard his mother tell, in which trees and rocks and brooks were brought to life and speech like men and women. It ran through and through his thought as he approached the village along the far bank of the creek, screened against chance observance by the fringe of vines and willows. He crouched in a thick growth of weeds above the wrecked milldam on which he crossed, watching the lights in the windows by which he meant to time his enterprise. The damp air intensified the night smells Gradually the thin, faintly acid scent of the carrot, rising from the bruised stems under his weight, obscured his errand, brought his mind back to Andy's whispered whimsies. A slow depression overcast his excitement in the adventure, a kind of gray shadow falling over a vivid view. Cities -he saw them again as he had known them, memory blotting out the fanciful pictures he had conceived since his sudden decision to break qpen John Sin not’s safe. He still foresaw the lights and music and luxury, but, curiously, their appeal was dulled and flattened The fat lands, where the corn grew, and the carrot was no flower, but an ugly weed. He tried to shake the silly idea from him. Laura-—-he summoned up a vision of her, the wistful vacillation in her eyes, the round, white, soft arms of her, the yellow hair framing her puzzled brows. It bewildered him to discover that he did not thrill at the prospect of their flight together. He seemed to look beyond, into a future in which her arms would be a weight about his neck, her alluring softness an offense. He thought, with a stabbing indraft of his breath, that she would mother his children in the hot crowded hurry of a city. They would be like her dependent, clinging, drifting with the cur- rent of any stronger will they met, boys like Lonnie Carlin, girls like Laura herself The broken dam behind him made him think inconsequently of the days when it had leashed water for the mill, a skeleton of mortised oaken timbers, with a few rot- ting weatherboards still clinging to it. He had looked through the ruin on an earlier yalk home from town, observed the mas- sive strength of those timbers, the wooden shafts and pinions adzed and whittled out of hickory and oak and ironwood. It had taken men to build that mill—men who could have stood toe to toe with Jud Wyatt, swung an ax beside him, equaled him at any test he chose. Where were they now, those men? Their children must be alive—living here in the rich farmlands they had taken by main strength from the woods. Sinnot’s Mill they had called the town by that name in the old days. Sinnot—he thought of the Sinnot who had hewed those timbers out of the virgin woods, and of the Sinnot who sat behind a.brass screen and trafficked in other men’s money, with his plump sickly white fingers. “It’s bad for the crops when the carrot grows in the plowland, but it’s worse for the carrot!” Weeds, like Sinnot, instead of flower Slowly, painfully, he achieved the parallel There were men who were meant for the waste places that God abhorred, men who lived and grew hardy where lesser breeds would die. It was such men who had built the old mill, cleared the land And their sons were Sinnot and Carlin and Charley Graney! A stirring of wind seemed to lift the sharp smell of the carrot to his nostril He saw the overgrown garden in the hills, saw Hattie Flint, thigh deep amid the silver fronds, her eyes inscrutable, unconquerable, understanding He rose suddenly, a sobbing laugh in his throat. He knew that he would find her a he had left her, in the waste places where weeds were flowers, waiting for him to come back from the fat soft lands where flowers were weeds. He saw the lights of the east bound train slipping toward the village, and broke into arun. In two days he could be back in the harsh hills where God had planted him-—and Hattie

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August 7,1920 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 152

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST “IF THERE IS NO HARMONY IN THE FACTORY THERE WILL BE NONE IN THE PIANO” Ir takes men with music in their souls to make fine pianos such as Packard. Men happy and content, whose creative minds and artistic hearts find avenue for expression in the pianos they are making. Workmen inspired, experienced and skilled, to whom fine pianos represent the highest conception of art. Such are the men in the Packard plant. They are part- ners in the destinies of the institution. 7/ey are the source of Packard’s sweet music, its warmth of tone, its endearing charm. As you play upon the keys, you realize how completely suc- cess has attended the labors of these men. You exult at the rap- turous melody that fairly flows trom your finger-tips. The delicate balance of the action, the exquisite timbre of the tone, the symmetry of the piano itself, excite your warm admiration. You feel that at last you have found “the hidden soul of har- mony.” And you are proud that such a piano can be yours for all time. PACKARD Pianos are in several styles and sizes, in grand, up- right and player models. You will find one that wholly con- forms to your every requirement. A picture brochure will be gladly sent postpaid. THE PACKARD PIANO COMPANY FORT WAYNE+s INDIANA ESTABLISHED 1871

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST August 7,1920 THE ROSE DAWN (Continued from Page 5) white mission on the hill, and again the gleam of the sea where the coast swept back almost at right angles to form the harbor. The colonel did not turn round, however. He stood there straight and slim in his long frock coat, with his fine, lean, kindly old face raised to the sun and the breeze, and his white hair stirring softly. Thesky was very blue, and in its deeps swung buzzards in wide, stately circles. The air was warm and fragrant, and on it floated the clear, liquid songs of the meadow larks and the The sun’s warmth fell softly like an essence in sus- pension, and the colonel seemed to himself to be soaking it into his physigal being as though it were indeed an ethereal, per- meating substance. And the colonel in his simple old heart found it good and thanked his God. But now of a sudden he waked as though he had been called, and with an appear- ance of almost guilty haste he strode down the hill. The two hounds, which had been patiently waiting his pleasure, yawned, The colonel walked briskly round the house to the front To the handle of the bell pull hung a turkey-feather duster as though left by a careless housemaid. It was there apurpose, however, as it was on all the bell pulis in Southern California; and the colonel put it to its appointed use on his boots. He crossed the little hallway in two strides and entered the dining room. His Allie, sat already at table behind a an alcohol lamp. She was a small, plump, merry-looking woman, with black hair in which appeared no thread of white. Her dress was of heavy, fine, black silk, relieved with white lace. Its cut was very plain and old-fashioned, but possessed a chic of its own that placed Allie definitely above the class of commonplace, small, plump women. Her air was of brisk, amused tolerance, with a background of fine competence. Though she did not wear a bunch of keys at her girdle, one felt that it would have been symbolically appropriate for her to have done so. She raised her face for the colonel’s gallant kiss. “You are very ldte this morning, Rich- ard,” she remarked. “There was much to attend to. You remember, this is a very important day.” The colonel sat across the table, but immediately rose to set aside a cut-glass bowl of magnificent red roses that had filled the center of the table. “I would rather see you, dear, than the most beautiful roses in the world,” he answered Allie’s murmured protest. He attacked the sliced oranges before him. A door opened noiselessly to admit the soft-footed Chinaman bearing a laden waiting. The colonel telling Allie inter- estedly his morning adventure, pausing often with his spoon between plate and mouth. “You eat fluit,’”” broke in the Chinaman finally. ‘‘You stop talkee talkee, eat blekfus.”’ “Well, I declare, Sing Toy!” cried the colonel. But Sing Toy, secure in the righteous- ness of his attitude, budged not one inch from it. “*Velly late,” he pointed out without excitement. ‘‘ You walkee walkee, no catch blekfus, you catch headache. I know.” He spoke from the profound empirical wisdom of fifteen years’ service in this family, and therefore he spoke in confi- | dence. The colonel collapsed and meekly de- voured his orange. Sing Toy changed the plates and served the food. His calm eye swept the dining room masterfully. “You change your nightgown,” he told | Allie, and left the room. swear that Chinaman will drive me cried the colonel. ‘He merely meant the laundry boy was | going to begin the week’ : wash to-day,” chuckled Allie placidly. “I am only thank- ful that he did not say it before our guests. You know perfectly well, Richard, what a faithful dear old thing he is. cK suppose so, * muttered the colonel. “Still —— Sing Toy thrust his through the door. pig-tailed head “Hot day,” he announced. ‘‘Cunnel go catch thin coat. That one too thick. I fix um on bed. You go puttum on.” a N THE meantime the mounting sun was beginning to burn away the layer of high fog that had overhung the town. Each night at this time of year this blanket crept in from the sea and gathered out of noth- ing in the coolness of dawn. To one in the town it exactly resembled heavy rain clouds. Indeed, it was always difficult to persuade the tourist that his umbrellas and mackintoshes were unnecessary; that with absolute certainty it could be stated that those threatening, lowering clouds con- tained not one drop of rain. To one who had risen early enough to have ridden up the Sur it would have looked like a tumbled, shining, silver sea through which thrust the peaks of higher hills. From either point of view it appeared a permanent bit of weather that would take some time to change. Nevertheless, about nine o’clock a weird brilliance appeared all at once to permeate the air. The heavy, inert, dead clouds seemed suddenly infused with life. A glimpse of overhead blue was hinted and instantly obliterated. A phantom half sug- gestion of a mountain peak in full sunshine showed for a moment through a gauze of white, misty light. Then between two min- utes, simultaneously all over the cup of the heavens, the dark clouds thinned to a veil. The veil was rent in two, twenty, a hundred places. It dissolved. A few shreds, drifting down a new freshness that rose from the sea, alone remained, and they melted to nothing before one’s eyes. Magically the blue sky was clear and the sun was sending down its showers of golden warmth. The semicircle of mountains rose hard and clear in the sparkling air; the sea twinkled with a thousand eyes; the surf lay white along the yellow shore; and none more foolish than the distrustful tourist compelled to convey past concealed contempts his um- brella and his mackintosh. The town of Arguello began then, as it does now, in a wharf: a long wharf that reached a half mile to find its deep water. It ended indeterminately in open country after two miles. Its one long main street was unpaved, unimproved. All its side- walks were of wood, and there were no sidewalks except in the centers of com- merce, wealth and fashion. The buildings in its business part were mostly one-story wooden affairs that pretended to be two- story by means of false fronts. There were, however, a number of pleasing variations, such as a four-storied brick structure with a tower and a loud-belled clock, called the Clock Building. The bank occupied part of its ground floor. All the big men had their offices upstairs, and on its upper floor was located the county library. There were also a number of wide, deep, overgrown, old-fashioned gardens with square-cupolaed houses, places whose owners had refused to succumb to commercial expansion. Also remained a number of adobe structures with red-tiled roofs, houses that had been there since the earliest Spanish days. Some of these were still occupied by native Spanish California families, but most of the few still remaining on Main Street had become Chinese laundries. Near the head of Main Street, and a block apart, were two hotels. One, called the San Antonio, was three-storied, of brick, sat directly on the street and had a wooden awning that extended over the sidewalk. The other, called the Frémont, was a huge rambling affair of wooden con- struction, with broad verandas. It occu- pied the center of an extensive garden of palms, rubber, magnolia and eucalyptus trees, and a great profusion of flowers of both common and rare species. Vines had covered it and shaded it and glorified it with roses, with passion flower, with wis- taria, with honeysuckle and many other sweet or brilliant blooms. A half dozen Chinamen were continuously engaged in watering and tending its lawns and gar- dens. Visitors from the East who had been there more than two weeks knew of a great many especial features to show the newer- comers, such as the black rose, or the La Marque, whose stem was six inches in diameter; or the cork tree; or the camphor or bay trees, whose leaves you crushed and smelled. And, of course, they must eat a (Continued on Page 157)

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a 4 THE SATURDAY fine motor car, like a noble tree or an expanse of lovely lawn, is the unhurried product of time. Behind the National Sextet is a fifth of a century of serious endeavor. Beautiful, quiet, and EVENING POST enduring, this car is the maturity of twenty devoted years. It is powered with a high-efficiency overhead-valve engine, conceived, designed and manufactured com- plete in the National shops. NATIONAL MOTOR CAR & VEHICLE CORPORATION, INDIANAPOLIS SUCCES. fil Year

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST August 7,1920 Can you tell a YALE lock at three yards ? If shape settled it you could. But that narrow slit which takes a small flat key does not finally identify either the lock or its key. Go nearer—is the name YALE there? The locks and keys that look like YALE at three yards are up against something else at three feet. Up against the reason that made it worth while for them to look like YALE at all. Up against the reason which makes it worth while to find YALE there. The name YALE ona lock is our signal to you that the lock is right. That name is worth finding on any type of lock, on Hardware, Padlocks, Night Latches, Door Closers, Bank Locks, Chain Blocks, because it means that the goods will stand up when the going is the hardest. Specify it. Check it up. Don’t let shape double- cross satisfaction. e Yale Yale Yale Chain Biocks Padlotks Yale Dial Locks Door Clos ers The Yale & Towne Mf; New York Office: 9 E.¢ th .CO., Makers of the Yale Locks--General Offices & Works: Stamford, Conn. St. canadian Y: ale & Towne Ltd, St. t.Ce itharines, Ont _Chicago Office: 77 E. Lake St.

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(Continued from Page 154) ripe olive off the tree—and go round with a very puckered mouth the rest of the morn- ing. You swept into these grounds on a curving, hospitably wide, graveled road and hitched your horse to a heavy rail made of iron pipe. There were many of these rails, and they were always more or less occupied. Unless one happened to be a very recent and temporary tourist indeed, he never thought of walking even the shortest distances. Horses were extraordinarily cheap, either to buy or hire. All over the town horses, either under saddle or hitched to buggies, phaétons or surreys, dozed under the feath- ery pepper trees. If one wanted to go two blocks he used a horse for that purpose. The length of Main Street was lined with them. Most people owned two or three and alternated them in the somnolent job of waiting their masters’ pleasure. As a corollary to this state of affairs, the sad- dlers’ shops were large and fascinating with the smell of leather, the sight of carved, silver-mounted saddles, of braided-rawhide bridles with long thongs, of inlaid spurs and horsehair work, of reatas, of horsehair cinchos, of fancy cuartas, and the like. There were also monstrous frame stables, each accommodating hundreds of animals, with corrals and horse troughs and generally a lot of lolloping dogs stretched in the sunny dust, and Mexicans who smoked brown- paper cigarettes. From these each morning a long pro- cession set forth. One man would drive a phaéton and lead a half dozen saddle horses attached to the horns of each other's saddles; another would ride and lead an- other half dozen. In all directions they scattered out through the town, leaving them by ones and twos here and there at the iron-pipe hitching rails. When all but one had been delivered the Mexican boy rode back to the stable, sitting his saddle loosely, with the inimitable grace of the cowboy seat. At noon it was necessary to go after the vehicles. The saddle horses, however, returned of themselves. The only requirement necessary was to tie the reins to the horns so that the animals could not stop to graze, to throw the stirrups across the saddle and to slap the beasts on the rump; they returned staidly or friskily home. At noon and toward six o’clock the streets would be full of these riderless ani- mals. This scheme was eminently labor-saving and picturesque, but was later prohibited by law. From the door of the bank in the Clock Building a man issued, briskly drawing on his gloves. He was followed by a bare- headed clerk, who continued talking to him while he unhitched his horse and buggy. The man was rather short and slight, with a large round head, a very ruddy com- plexion, an old-fashioned white mustache and goatee, and rather bulging blue eyes. He was dressed carefully, though infermally. His Panama hat, loose light tweeds and dark tie were eminently conservative and respectable. But in his small, cloth-topped, exquisitely fitted patent-leather boots one thought to catch his secret pride, his one harmless little vanity. Indeed, even as he finished his conversation with the clerk, he mechanically produced a large silk hand- kerchief and with it flecked imaginary dust from one foot, then the other. His name was Oliver Mills, and he was the president of the bank he was now quitting in the middle of a busy morning. ‘Well, Simpson,”’ he concluded, “you tell him that. And if he isn’t satisfied he will have to come and see me to-morrow. I wouldn’t miss showing at the colonel’s jamboree for a dozen of him. In fact, to- day ought by rights | to be a bank holiday so everyone could go. He gathered up the reins and clucked to his ieeae, The animal set himself in motion with a great deal of histrionic up and down and not much straight ahead. It was rather a shiny and fancy horse, however, with a light-tan harness and a wonderful netted fly cover that caparisoned him like a war horse of old, even to his ears, and with dangling tassels that danced like jumping jacks to his every motion. Mr. Mills, how- ever, was apparently in no haste. He held the reins loosely in his lap, over which he had drawn a thin linen robe, and did not reach for the silver-banded whip in the socket. Up the length of Main Street he drove, bowing right and left to his numerous acquaintances and casting an appreciative and appraising eye on signs of improve- ment. These would not have astonished a modern hustler, but they satisfied Mr. Mills that his town was moving on and prosperous. He liked the friendly greet- ings; he was glad to see a wooden sidewalk going down; he enjoyed the feel of the sun pouring on his back At the Frémont he turned in and drove up alongside the very wide, shady veranda, THE SATURDAY EVENING POST whose floor was only just above the level of | the ground. A man seated in one of the capacious wooden rocking-chairs heaved himself to his feet and came forward. He was of the build known as stocky, and was clad in a well-cut blue serge. His large head was grown closely with a cap of very | black and rather coarse curls. head was low and broad, his eyebrows black and beetling, his eyes humorous, his mustache black, his cheeks red and slightly veined with purple—altogether a dashing, handsome, black and red, slightly coarse man, with undoubtedly a fund of high spirits and obvious wit; and his eyes and forehead showed ability. “Good morning, Mr. Mills,” he cried in a loud, hearty voice. “‘Howare you? Fine morning, isn’t it?” “Of course,”’ replied the banker a little vaguely. The other man chuckled. “Of course,” he repeated. ‘I suppose you mean to say all your mornings are fine, eh?” “At this time of year—yes. you feeling?” ‘As if the doctor who ordered me out was a damn liar. Never felt better in How are here my life. along I would have taken a walk over to the mountains and back to get up an appetite for lunch. Not that I need one; I’m as hungry as a wolf.” “‘Would you really?” cally. “‘ Before lunch? no invalid, Mr. Boyd. I sh« ould say.” ‘Why, that’s no walk! de fe nsively. ‘It’s six miles to those mountains.” Boyd checked an exclamation and ex amined the other closely. “*Looks as though he meant it,” he com mented as though to himself. ‘Can't figure his ulte rior motyve. Why, you poore hump,” he cried, ‘“‘what do you take me for? If I can’t walk there and back in an hour I'll eat a hat!” ‘The air is very clear,”’ said Mills quietly. “‘T should admire to see you try. However, get your hat and your boy and we'll be ge tt ng on. “Well, if that’s six miles it must be about a mile and a half to the hatrack, so don’t expect me back soon,”’ was Boyd's parting rejoinder as he started for the office do Tr. In a few moments he returned accom- panied by a slender lad of about twenty. The boy was like the next step in the evolu- tion of his father’s type—taller, more lightly built, not quite so obviously curly and black and red. His hair, instead of being shiny crow-black, was of a very dark brown; instead of kinking into tight Tinglets it “0! in loose waves. His forehead was bold and frank, as were his eyes. He walked with spring and pride, and his expression was alert and joyous and outspringing in spirit. It was obvious that the elder Boyd was extremely proud of him. Nevertheless, he made the introduction exceedingly casual, almost offhand, and at once climbed into the buggy. “I’m very glad to meet you, Kenneth,” said Mr. Mills. ‘‘There’s a little seat in the back, if you can make out how it goes that’s it. He cramped the wheel carefully, and drove out of the hotel grounds. On Main Street he turned to the left, and so headed for the open country. “‘T am glad to hear our climate is proving beneficial,’’ remarked Mr. Mills after they had made the turn successfully, “and I hope you may remain with us a |x ong time. ‘I’m all right,” returned Boyd, “except that I’m beginning to be troubled a little with insomnia.” “Insomnia?” repeated the banker. ‘“‘ You astonish me! The soporific quality of our air has been rather a matter of pride with us. I never knew of anybody who did not go to bed and sleep soundly all night long in Arguello.”’ “Oh, I sleep all right nights—and after- noons,”’ drawled-Boyd, “but I’m getting a little wakeful mornings.” Mills looked doubtful for a moment, then at the sound of a snort from Kenneth in the back seat he smiled faintly. said Mills quizzi- You are certainly Quite an ” exclaimed Boyd If you hadn't said you would be | athlete, | His fore- | “Bigg er than Weather ” TRADE Wool Garments— The Sportsman’s Choice ESIST cold, wind and moisture. Built on com- fortable lines. Made of the same genuine north country wool which has made Patrick cloth famous. There is no other cloth just like Patrick cloth. It is essentially a north country fabric, made from the thick, long-fiber wool of “sheep that thrive in the snow.” Look for the Patrick label on the garments Outing Blankets, Auto Robes, Mackinaws Jackets Stag Shirts and Sweater s, Sock you buy Shooting Breeches Hunting Coats, s and Caps If your dealer you with Patrick ucts, we will gladly to one who will. cannot supply Wool Prod direct you Send for new catalog, also for Elbert Hubbard's bool Bigger Than W cather both are free PATRICK-DULUTH WOOLEN MILLS 16 Avenue A Duluth, Minn. 4 Pure Northe ern Wi 701 fom ‘Shoop t that tri we in to Sow’

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158 THE SATURDAY VITALIC

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EVENING POST he stated. agreed Boyd “‘Ah, that is a jest,” “Yes, it was a jest,” soberly. A very wide, squat street car came sway- ing down the uneven track in the center of the street. It was driven by a Mexican boy in a wide hat who was perched pre- cariously on the rail of the front platform. Hitched to it by long rope traces pattered two mules so diminutive that they looked no bigger than dogs. “I started for the beach in that contrap- tion yesterday,”” remarked Boyd. “I was the only man aboard, but there were a half dozen women. Each of those women had some shopping to do. The car waited while they went into the stores and bought things. I got tired after a while and got out and walked. Can you beat that?” “Oh, yes, that is quite the custom,” was Mills’ comment. “You see, the car only makes four round trips a day. “I see,” returned Boyd in rather a crushed voice. They drove in silence for some moments. The open country succeeded the last scat- tered houses of the town. The oak-parked hills rolled away to right and left unfretted by fences. Ground squirrels scurried to their holes; little owls bobbed from the tops of low earth mounds; a road runner flopped rangily into the dust of the road and racked away in challenge ahead of the horse. Under the oak trees stood the cattle, already fed full. The starred carpet of alfilaria had been fitted to the hills, and in the folds and ‘up the slopes scarfs of bright color—-lupin, poppy, niere, poor-man’s gold—had been flung. Quail and meadow le irk, oriole anc 1 V ire 0, le ad ac horus of birds. In tiny pond patches of tule and cat-tail mud hens “ ducks talked busily in low voices. The yellow sunlight flooded the land like an an a! er wine, “You certainly have a wonderful coun- try to look at, and we mde rful weather. What’s the matter with it? ‘Matter with it?” repeated Mills. “Nothing! What do you mean?” “Well, look round you. There isn’t a house to be seen. If this country was as good as it looks you ought to have a farm- house for every two hundred acres.” “Oh, Isee! Well, this that you are look- ing at is all one big ranch*-the Corona del Monte. Belongs to Colonel Peyton, where we are going.” ‘How far does he extend?’ “Up the valley? About five miles, “What's beyond?” “Las Flores— belongs to a Spanish fam- ily, the Cazaderos. They owned practically the whole of the v alley under the old grant. The present ranch is not a quarter of their orig nal hold ngs te ‘Sell out?” ‘The usual thing with these old families. They are very generous and very extrava- gant, and they have no idea of the value of money. All they know is that they go to the bank and get what they need. There must come an end to it—you know that. There comes a time when the bank must foreclose for its own protection.” ‘Then your land loans often require fore- closure?” ‘You would be interested to look over the old tax lists. I'll take you down to the courthouse sometime to see them if you want. At first there were perhaps a dozen names, all Spanish. Then alongside each of those Spanish names came one or more American names, and the assessments against the Spanish grew smaller. You can pretty well trace the history of the county on those tax books. You ought to look them over.” “I should like to do so,”’ asserted Boyd. “But under these conditions the bank must be in the ranching business pretty exten- sively.” “It is, and we don’t like it; but we do as little management as we can help, and sell cheaply.” “Then,” corrected Boyd, “ in the real-estate business.”’ “We are that—up to the neck. But,” he pointed out, “do not forget that is about the only way we'd ever open up the back country. The native won't sell a foot of his land. The only way to get it from him is by foreclosure.” “Do these big holders, like Peyton or this Spaniard, do any farming? “Peyton has a walnut orchard and some fruit in the bottom land, and of course some barley and alfalfa. All that is right near the home station. But most of it is cattle of course, and sheep in the moun- tains.” ” the banks are August 7,1920 “And the Spaniard?” “They have always a little stuff for home use round the ranch houses, but none of those people ever do much but cattle.” “Land not good for much else, I sup- pose,” suggested Boyd with malice afore- thought. “Not good?”’ Mills fired up. ‘“‘Let me tell you that this bottom land is the finest farming soil in the world. It will raise any- thing that can be raised anywhere in any climate. Why, sir, we have the finest prod- ucts you ever saw in either the temperate or tropical zone! There is no use my try- ing to tell you about it. Drive down the valley to the south of the town and look about you.” “‘T should like to do so,”’ said Boyd again. They topped a little rise and looked ahead over the long flat across which the road led into the distance of other hills. Crawling white clouds of dust marked the progress of many other vehicles. These turned at a point about midway in the valley to enter an avenue between a double row of tall fan palms. “The colonel’s guests are arriving,” ob- served Mills. The palm avenue, rustling mysteriously in the wind and flanked on either side by English walnut trees, ran straight as a string for nearly a mile, to end in a slight curve round the low wide knoll on which grew the Cathedral Oaks. Just before this ascent, however, they were turned aside by a very polite Mexican into a sort of paddock in- closure, where were provided an astonish- ing number of hitching posts and rails. Already nearly a hundred animals were there securely anchored. The rigs varied from ramshackle buggies, white with dust, to smart surreys or buckboards. In the center was even a high four-seated trap. The four horses stood tied to the wheels. They were good-looking animals, and possessed the then astounding peculiarity of roached manes and banged tails. “Who's that outfit belong to?” aske< d Boyd, his attention attracted by the smart ness of detail of all this. An expression of disapproval clouded the banker’s prominent eyes. “Young fellow named Corbell,”’ he re- plied shortly. ‘‘Wild young fool. Owns a ranch out beyond he re,” They left the paddock and made their way up the knoll and across the lawn to the ranch house. Colonel and Mrs. Peyton stood at the foot of the three veranda steps receiving their guests. Many of the latter were strolling about beneath the trees and on the lawn; others were wandering in groups down the slope and across the way to the picnic grove. The women looked very cool and fresh in light-colored dresses. Among those who lingered as by right on the lawn were the élite of Arguello, and they bore themselves accordingly. The men were very bluff and sententious, but with a rov- ing eye on the punch bowls. The women wore huge excrescences called bustles and little hat bonnets on the front of their heads, and they walked with elegance. To the elders all this imparted an air of great dignity and virtue, but some of the younger, fresh-faced dashing creatures man- aged to make of these rather awful appurte- nances weapons for conquest. They flirted the bustles from one side to the other, or they looked out from under square-banged hair beneath the little hats, and great was the slaughter. mr HE stream past the colonel and his wife swelled and slackened, but never ceased. As Boyd moved on after his conventional greeting he heard the colonel mention the name Corbell, and turned in curiosity to see, the owner of the four-in-hand. He looked upon a rather short, dapper indi- vidual with a long, lean, brown face, snapping black eyes and a little mustache waxed to straight needle points. This man was exquisitely dressed in rough clothes of Norfolk cut—in that time and place!—a soft silk shirt and collar, a pastel necktie. He wore no jewelry but a large signet ring. His concession to the West was his hat, which was probably the widest, highest and utmost turned out of the factory. With him seemed to be somewhat of a group of young men; of whom, however, Boyd noticed particularly only one. Indeed, that one could hardly escape notice. He stood well over six feet and bulged with enormous frame and muscles. His complexion was very blond, so that the ruddiness of his open-air skin showed in fierce and pleasing (Continued on Page 161)

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 4 Blazes 192 Yosemite | ~ » Through Mountain Snowdrifts and Bottomless Mud The first automobile to enter the Yosemite Valley in 1920 over the all but impassable Wawona road was a Velie Model 34 The 34 is the new thoroughbred just born into the famous old Velie family of cars. It has introduced itself to all motordom by a feat that proves it capa ble of performing far more than the average motor ist requires It did this in April when the route was drowned in seas of mud or buried under tons of snow. Motorists who knew the road united in saying it could not be done Others Found Velie’s Tracks Yet the Velie blazed the way for an endurance run which other cars attempted a month later Even then the automobile editor of the Los Angeles Time wrote: ‘ You can still see the tracks of the Velie and indications of its terrific battle.’ I he V elie was driven by members ot the I ord Motor Car Company and Cadwalader-Chase Company ( alifornia Velie dealers It buc ked snowdrifts six feet deep and hundreds of feet long —climbed steep slippery, tortuous mountain grades, waded through great mudholes that seemed to have no bottom It is a thrilling story’of courage and car stamina told in the diary of the trip Just As An Instance: “Lord walked to summit of Chinquapin and re ported many drifts ahead four to six feet deep one, a half mile long. Drove back to |1-mile cabin Fifteen miles from Yosemite Village. But the hard work is all to come They built four sets of skids. On these the Velie made the steep ascent to the summit Then the party ran the car over a railroad switch to avoid drifts if there is any kind Oa bump or jar the Veli 34 did not get on this trip, it has not been described Entire Trip Without Repairs lr} lhe entire trip from Los Angeles to the floor of the Yosemite -the whole of the difficult journey thru snow and mud, up grade and down was made wit! outa single car repair of any kind truly a rem ark able record! 6 this performance the new Velie scarce two months old, won the coveted Dyas Gold Trophy The Velie took this prize for a similar pe rformance with the larger Velie Six in 1917. \ handsomely illustrated book giving the con plete story is just off the press. Send for a cops it shows splendid reproductions from photographs of the car at the most e».citing points of the trip- ulso the lt S. Rangers certificate giving firct honors to the Velie. Free for the asking Any Velie Could Do It It was picked at random from hundreds of stock cars The car simply upheld the Velie tradition of 10 years. Blood will tell Although Model 34 sells at a lower price than its larger brothers, not one essential of Velie quality has been sacrificed. The jifference in price ts on size alone Yet Model 34 provides comfortable seating for five adults It has Velie style with Velie genuine leather dee p plaited upholstery, the Velie lasting mirror finish and the Velie economy in fuel, tires and upkeep On the point of low operating expense the Velie has records as notable as its Yosemite victories Five Larger Velie Models The five larger Velie mode ls, open and closed em body all the Vehe winning qualities [hey have won a remarkable reputation for their distinctive vle and silent, flexible power The 48 line includes Touring Car, Sedan, Coupe Roadster and Speedster a car for every need or preterence u h cars @3 only an old and exper! enced organization bac ked by immense resources can produce. Winners from the start Catal gs tor the a king VELIE MOTORS CORPORATION, MOLINE, ILLINOIS onch

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160 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST August 7,1920 ——- —— — rr ae WF; aye Vn) AS h ay - ~ 7; oN pa 214 =~ 1% wv 6 Ws Ay ép Vy = J SSS ——) i<—— YI ——_ 9 — J NS 3 Ab Me —yK——$ 9x) “14 = ‘I =) 3) eS i= 4S) —— + eran tn Q | | | | : | | q | | | | | | | | | ae ee J O18) olTalevelels Tavever ‘full Weight and duality § Te Tevevetata Tar LNA y UWL) NA LS OY The New England Standard LW AOA! SUR SUR SU AU

VUEN John Hall, the mint maste! of the Massachusetts Bay Colony, her weight in pine tree shillings as a gave his daughter dowry, he knew that every coin was full weight — and of exact fineness. These silver pine tree shillings—the first coins minted in any of the colonies well typify the painstaking care and sterling honesty of Puritan New England. And today this same quality is evident in New England manutactures— in a thousand and one products made better in New England than elsewhere, and at less cost. Come to New England. Familiarize yourself with her enormous industrial development ; visualize her remarkable fA AU UU A

growth as a market for goods and as a tield for intensive industrial and com- mercial extension. The Old Colony Trust Company, by close association with New England’s yreatest industrial projects and develop- ments, by familiarity with New England conditions and resources, is in an unusually tavorable position to furnish reliable in- formation and to execute financial com- missions promptly and economically. We invite correspondence. We shall be glad to send you our illus- trated booklet, “New England— Old and New,” issued in commemoration of the three hundredth anniversary of the First Pilgrim Landing, in 1620. Address Department A. Ortp CoLtony |RUsT COMPANY BOSTON

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(Continued from Page 158) contrast to his bleached mustache and eyebrows. To make it all more emphatic, he wore garments of small black-and-white checks. It would have been impossible to compute how many thousands of these little squares there were spread abroad over his great round chest and thick arms alone. “Lord, there’s a strong-looking chap! How'd you like to tackle him, Ken?” commented Mr. Boyd as they drew apart. “He's powerful big. He looks strong.” “He is strong,” broke in a stranger who had overheard. “I saw him once crawl under a felled tree and raise it on the broad of his back.” “Who is he?” ““Rancher. Owns the next place to Cor- bell, that little dude there. Named Hun- ter—Bill Hunter. They call him Big Bill. Somebody once said he looked pneumatic.” “Why?” “Looks sort of as if he had been blowed up with an air pump.” “That also is a jest,” stated Mills. Kenneth laughed joyously. “‘T wonder if he’d collapse if you stuck a pin in him?” “T reckon something would collapse,” agreed the stranger dryly. ‘‘ You from the East, I take it. Out for long?” “Ves I don’t know—depends on father,”” said Kenneth, indicating Mr. Boyd, who had by now strolled away with the banker ““Old man sick, eh?” “*He’s here for his health,” Kenneth. The stranger, who was long and lank and solemn, produced a match, carefully whit- tled it to a point and thrust it in his mouth. He did this simple act with such a pur- poseful air of deliberation that Kenneth found himself watching with interest and in ilence admitted ““My name’s Paige—Jim Paige,” said that individual then. “I run the main harness shop in this place—carved leather, silver work—all that stuff.” ““My name is Boyd,” reciprocated Ken- neth. “I don’t run anything.” Paige grinned appreciatively. “Know anybody round here?” “Not a soul. We've only been here a week.” “A week! And don’t know nobody?” Paige cast a quizzical side glance. “And you don’t look extra bashful either. Might know you were from the East.” “*Have you ever been East?”’ countered Kenneth. “Yes, ones **Like it?” “No ‘aa or, ‘What was the matter? “Well, I'll tell you,’ drawled Paige with an air of great privacy. ‘‘ Back East when you don’t do nothing you feel guilty, but out here when you don’t do nothing you don’t give a damn. But look-a here! You've got to know some of the little she devils we raise round here—a young fellow like you.” He seized Kenneth firmly above the elbow, and before that young man knew what was up propelled him to a group of young people giggling consumedly after the fashion of the very young “‘Hey, you Dora! Look here! I want you to meet up with Mr. Boyd of the effete East. He’s been here a week, and don’t know anybody and seemingly hasn’t got spunk enough to get acquainted.” He surveyed the group a tolerant mo- ment, then sauntered away, his lank figure moving loosely in his clothes, the sharp- ened match in the corner of his mouth, his eyes wandering lazily and humorously from group to group. Kenneth, rooted to the spot, blushing to the ears, found himself facing a laughing, mischievous group of young people. He stuttered something about intrusion, his mind murderously pur- suing the departing Jim Paige. There could be no doubt that these were of the town’s best, and to be thrust in this way by a harness maker The laughing, mischievous girl addressed as Dora broke in on his agony. “You must not mind old Jim Paige, Mr. Boyd,” she was saying. “‘He brought us all up fairly, and taught us to ride, and even to walk, I do believe. My name is Dora Stanley. We are truly glad to meet you. Look about you if you don’t believe it. Count us! Eight girls and two men!” And then having by this chatter given him time to recover his self-possession, Miss Stanley presented him more formally to the members of the group. In the meantime the colonel continued to greet an unending procession of his guests. They filed before him singly, in groups, in droves. There were many prom- inent in the life of the place who lingered importantly; there were many plainly dressed, awkward farmers and their wives, laboring men, Mexicans, who uttered their greetings and hurried past, a little uncom- fortable until they had lost themselves in the crowd of their own kind at the barbe- cue grounds. The colonel knew them all by name, and he greeted each and every one of them with a genuine and cordial enthu- siasm. With each he could exchange no more than a word; but he was really glad to see them, and they went on with little warm spots in their breasts. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST One can hardly catalogue over the nota- | bles of that day as they filed past, impor- tant as some of them now loom in the light of tradition and legend. Perhaps we should not omit the poet, Snowden Delmore—a tall, slender, hairless man with fine cut, pale features and exquisite, long, pale fin- gers. He took obvious moral platitudes and cast them in sonnet form with Greek imagery and occasional poetic-sounding words like thalassa that people had to look up. This was all very seriogs with him, and he was the center of a group. In contrast eame Doctor Wallace, the best physician, who was short and round and coarse and blunt-fingered and blunt-speeched. With him, just to make the contrast complete, was Judge Crosby—a tall, white, sarcastic, ultrapolite individual in a frock coat These two were great cronies, and very canny. After paying their respects to the colonel they proceeded at once tothe punch bowl, the contents of which they sampled cautiously. “Belly wash!” judged Doctor Wallace “Intended for the consumption of the ladies,”” agreed Judge Crosby. “Well, Colonel Dick knows a heap better than that.’’ The doctor planted his thick, square legs wide apart and looked about him. ‘I see Sing Toy making signals,” he said. ‘‘Come on.” The Chinaman was standing at the side steps to the porch where he could keep an eye on the pun h bowl. “You come in. Miss heap muchee fun,’ he commanded the doctor, who was a favorite of his “All right, Toy, you old rascal. How’s your gizzard?” “No hab doctor. Gizzard velly good,” replied the Oriental without expression The doctor chuckled vastly, and stumped up the steps and into the dining room. “Will you look at this lot of hoary old highbinders?”’ he cried The little room was filled with men. The selection of the company was Sing Toy’s, not the colonel’s. Therefore no one was there who had not fine raiment, respecta- bility, an appreciable bank account and years of discretion. Your Chinaman is conventional. Hilarity there was, but not noisy hilarity. Only thin board and batten intervened between them and wives. On the table were bourbon and rye whisky. Outside the guests had nearly all arrived Mrs. Peyton had disappeared in the house in pursuit of some final directions or ar- rangements. The colonel for the moment stood alone, looking pleasedly round the groups on his lawn and under his green trees. His eyes lighted with especial pleas- ure at the sight of two late comers, and he deserted his post to meet them as they came down the drive. “Brainerd, my boy, I am so glad to see | you here. The day would not have been complete without you. It was good of you to come after all, and to bring my Puss How is she?” “Hate a crowd “Don’t know why I came. stay long.” He was a long, loose-jointed man; slow moving, cool in manner, with cool gray eyes, a little tired and a little sad; a ragged, chewed-looking mustache; and with long, lean, brown hands. A round spot of color burned high on his cheek bones. His ex- pression was sardonic and his manner bristly in a slow, wearied fashion. He was dressed in loose, rough tweeds that looked old but of respectable past. The individual referred to by the colo- nel as Puss, however, seemed infused with all the vitality missed in the other. She ” ’ returned Brainerd. Not going to was at first glance a very large child of | twelve or thirteen, but a second inspection left the observer a little puzzled. Her dress was short and her long, slim legs had few curves of maturity. She wore the frock of For Our Friends For the lovers of Quaker quality kor the people who love Quaker Cereals we are making a super Flour It can never be made tor everybod not for one-tenth the people. It. re quires rare-grade wheat, and we but the choicest bit Only about half the wheat ker r »it. Tw er ides of flour e made from tl vhich we a 1 So the yply of Quaker Flour will ‘ limited. We t t litt But we want tl friend f Oual Cereals to know that the can tit Phis is the cream-tfl f 1 the fine whea Chemist ( i i eit bakers constantly test it ht in mills It is made by master miller t} The Quaker Qals @mpany Quaker Flour Mills Akron, Ohio Cedar Rapids, lowa Peterborough, Ontario In our Canadian mills we conform to Government requirements as to percentage of wheat kernel used Quaker Biscuit Flour Quaker Farina 161 Quaker Flour A surprise that awaits you teh it read eals h el \ 11 10.000 Saskatoon, Saskatchewan

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ized in those named below. SATURDAY Pedigreed Piping Experience ()* all the varied applications of piping to industry, Grinnell Company has special- It has grown to be the largest organization in the world for designing, fabricating and erect- ing industrial piping equipments. This growth is due not so much to the fact that these particular equipments require the utmost technical knowl the simpler fact that special problems and difh- culties arise in each equipment which can be met successfully r dge, but to only out of a fund of practical experience. That experience has been handed down to us through 70 years, Which might justify us in referring to it as pedi- greed piping experience. Hvdrauli IF ITS INDUSTRL IT UI Automatic Sprit Heati Al k ading and Fabri Piping tem Constant Piping for Acid Gord n PIPING, TAKE WITH GRINNELL COMPANY er Systen Power ar Fittings, Pips Compre ind Alkalhe t Safety Fuel Saver Dry at J Related Piping > Valves ed Air Lines Level Size Circulating Sys tem COMPANY urger ciltes of and Canada. EVENING POST a child, with a bright-colored Roman sash; her tumbled hair was tied with a rib- bon. But her poise was that almost of a grown woman, and she carried with her a calm distinction difficult to define. It was pe rhaps an atmosphere of simplicity and freedom from the childhood conventions usually taught little girls, or perhaps it was only the intense vitality that seemed to emanate from her. Her long, slim body radiated it; each individual fine- -spun hair on her tumb ‘led head seemed to stand out from its fellows as a charged conductor; it smoldered deep below the calm of her clear gaze as she looked about her. She stood without fidget, indeed without any motion at all, completely restful; but somehow at the same time she conveyed the impression of being charged for rapid, darting motion, like a humming bird. Her cheeks were brown, with deep rich red beneath the surface, and her features were piquantly irregular. The conclusion of an observer would have been that she was at least fif- teen, with an after wonder as to why she did not dress her age. That feature of the case scandalized Mrs. Crosby. It always did scandalize her every time she saw the child, so the novelty of the emotion was somewhat worn, though the expression of it had gained by practice. Mrs. Crosby was of the type of fat woman that wears picture hats and purple and rides in limousines with lots of Be There were no limousines in those days, but that fact did not interfere with Mrs. Crosby. She always established herself in chairs and summoned people. Just now she was talk- ing to Snowden Delmore. “Just look at that child!’’ she cried to the attentive poet. “‘ Did you ever see any- thing so utterly absurd? Great long-legged thing dressed like a kindergarten! And such an outlandish rig! She looks like a little gypsy! I tell you, Mr. Delmore, say what you will, any child needs the in- fluence of a woman—a mother. There is an example of what happens when a child is turned over toa man. See how she stands there! You would think she was the equal in age and social st: ae of anyone here. It is almost impertinence. You agree with me, of course?” ‘Yes, yes, certainly,”” hastened Delmore. As a matter of fact, the poet was think- ing that the garment with its queer color combinations had a quaint, attractive dis- tinction of its own; and that the child’s clear, bold, spirited profile, as she looked off into space waiting for her elders to finish their conversation, was fascinating in its suggestion of the usual things lacked and the unusual gained. Snowden Delmore was deep in his soul a real poet, and he could occasionally see the point, though he had a pretty thick highbrow and egotistical overlay. But who was he to dispute Mrs, Crosby? Only Mrs. Wallace did that. The colonel continued to stand with his hand affectionately on Brainerd’s thin shoulder. “You need not stay a moment longer than you wish. Iam only too glad that you have come. You must wish Allie happiness on her birthday, however, before you go.” “T wouldn't fail to do that, colonel,” said Brainerd, with a softening of expression. ‘That's right! That’s right! And now let us get over to the grove. Allie must be there already. How are you? “ 3% “Me? Oh, well enough! Old Wallace says my bellows are getting fairly service- able. I notice I can go ten hours after quail all right enough, but I can’t seem to go more than ten minutes after good, honest work. Colonel, I'm beginning to believe I'm a fraud.” “It’s old Nature working her way with you. Brainerd. You mind her. She knows best. If she says hunt quail and don’t build fences you obey her. Let me tell you a secret. I found it out last time I was up in the city with Mrs. Peyton. I got all tired out going round shopping with her, and I figured afterward that I had actually walked just over two miles. Two miles, sir, and I mig ity near had to go to bed when I came in! I've often ridden over to Los Quitos and back in a day, and that makes sixty-five miles. How do you ac- count for it, eh? It isn’t what you do with your body that makes you tired; it’s what you do with your mind. And so you hunt your quail and get well.” He still kept his hand on Brainerd’s shoulder, which he patted gently from time to time, emphasizing the points of this speech. “Colonel,” said the latter with a short laugh, “as an apologist for laziness you Auzust 7,1920 stand alone. I now feel myself the model of all the virtues.” “That’s right! That’s the old man, much pleased. the crops?” “Well, the bees are laying up a lot of indifferent, muddy honey. The cherry crop seems to please the birds, of which there are six to each cherry. I found a couple of young apples starting y yesterday. The spring still seems to be di Mmp. There were two coyotes on the hill last night. The mortgz ge is a little better than holding its own. That’s about one month’s history. You can repeat for next month, except that those two apples will probably get worms.’ The colonel laughed, and patted Brai- nerd’s shoulder again. “Tf I did not know you,” he said, “I would say that you were getting bitter. But I know you. How does the new pony go, Puss?” he asked the girl. She turned her direct, unembarrassed gaze at him. “He is wonde rful! The best I have ridden! I love him!” “That is something I want to speak to you about,” said Brainerd. “It is good of you to keep sending ae ponies to ride, and I appreciate it; but I really can- not permit you to do it. You must let ‘me buy this pony if it is within my means.’ ‘The animal must be exercised. It is a favor to me to get one of them cared for and ridden.” “‘Nonsense, colonel! I know better than that. And I know the value of these horses of yours. That pony is old, fine stock. If you will not let me pay for him I shall certainly have to send him back. You have been more than generous in the past, and I have been weak enough to allow you to do it, but it cannot go on.” Daphne glanced up and caught the look of distress on the colonel’s face **Daddy, you are interfe ring with wh does not concern you,” she said ¢ ste “This is a matter entirely between m fairy godfather and me.” “Is it really? Well, upon my werd!” cried Brainerd, bristling up But the colonel interposed, delighted at this unexpected aid: ‘Yes, yes, to be sure! How dare you interfere, Brainerd, between me and my goddaughter? That is our affair. We will settle it ourselves.” He seized Daphne’s hand and the two disappeared together in the direction of the grove, leaving Brainerd looking after them, a slight quirk relieving the bitterness of his mouth. right!” returned “And how are iv HE grove was abuzz with life. The huge barbecued joints had been dug up from the pit and now lay before Benito and his assistants, who sliced them deftly with long keen knives and laid the slices on plates. These were quickly snatched away by waiting, laughing girls, who took them in precarious piles to the tables. There waited the gue La cracking walnuts, eating raisins and oranges, making vast inroads on the supposedly ornamental desserts while awaiting the substantials. The volunteer waitresses darted here and there. They were girls of the country, both American and Spanish born. The former were mag- nificent figures cast on heroic lines: tall, full-bosomed, large-limbed, tawny and gold, true California products; the latter smaller, with high insteps, small bones, powdered faces, beautiful eyes. All alike were very starched and very busy. Men followed them with galvanized pails con tain ing the celebrated sauce, composed mainly of onions, tomatoes and chilies ecun- ningly blended, or pans with potatoes or tamales. One stout old California woman dressed in old-style rebozo and mantilla, her round face shin.ng with heat and pleasure, carried a long platter heaped high with tortillas, which she urged on everyone. “Da pancak’ of old time,” she cried. “Eet is veray goot. Try him.’ Another group were close gathered at the short table that h: d been erected in front of the wine kegs. Here José and a number of helpers worked, busily filling tin cups that were continually thrust at their attention. At this table there seemed little need for the help of the tripping, laughing young waitresses. Everyone appeared will- ing and able to help himself. The wine was of the country and light in content, yet already its effect could be noticed in the loosening of tongue, the relaxing of the bucolic stiffness that had in certain quar- ters inaugurated the party. Young chaps (Continued on Page 165)

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 163 lliott-Fisher System Saves Money in Both Check and Savings Departments | of Philadelphia Bank | Industrial Trust, Title and Savings Company of Philadelphia adopts present system of quantity production in accounting, after experimenting with many methods. System employed is fundamentally the same as that used by manufacturers and retailers NE day about fifteen years ago the the usual difficulties in keeping accounts The Elliott-Fisher System has placed officials of what is now the Industrial in balance.” this bank’s bookkeeping on a one-opera Trust, Title and Savings Company of Today about three thousand active tion basis, just as it has simplified the Philadelphia realized that they must im- +- check accounts and twelve thousand work in manufacturing plants, stores, prove their accounting system to properly savings accounts are handled on four and public service corporations. handle their increasing business. Elliott-Fisher Machines. Alittleover two In the Industrial Trust, Title and Sav- The bank had been in business over years ago seven people were fifteen years at that time, and its account kept working at top speed in ing was handled in the approved method — the bank’s bookkeeping de- of that date. Troubles were constantly partment, posting the individ- occurring, however, delays were common, ual ledgers, writing the scratch and the accounting work was fast be ers, balancing accounts, and coming slavery. other routine work. Now, The Industrial Trust, Titleand Savings | under increased business con Company of Philadelphia, a conservative — ditions, three Elhort Fisher financial institution, decided nothing has operators, an assistant and a tily, and the search tor modern accounting methods was thorough and interesting. Many methods of keeping their check and savings account records were used, but, to quote one of the bank officials, “I ntil we put the work on Elliott-F isher Bookkeeping Machines, we experiences d ings Company Wi th ee oe ot three recor 5 Hes r,statement, and proot sheet, are written at the one time. The flat writing surface ef the machine assures clear carbons, always in register, ind facilitates handling. Errors can be spotted instantly on the proof sheets. At adie rfeatureisthe footing register which auto matically balances entries as typed. The Industrial Trust, Title and Savings Company have re du their bookkeeping over- head by easily 50°). Their ac- counting 1s on a smooth working basis from morning exchange } items to closing figures. 1} supervisor, all young women, are keeping There is an Elliott-Fisher System that will } the work in daily balance with ease. give you quantity production in accounting, It is estimated that these same opera whatever your business. . > | gladly send vou a book ! > tors could handle fifty per cent more work a will gladly send you a booklet on th } . +o : . ication oO iott-Fisher System to your without additional help or equipment. application of Elliott-Fisher System t . . TR L | ; i business or one similar to it. Or our nearest Re wor in t le SaVINES account Ce representative will call—there’s no obligation partment, with deposits aggregating #4. 300,000, is handled on one Elliott ELLIOTT-PISHER COMPANY, Harrisburg, Pa } Fisher Mac hine. Branches in 100 Principal Cities Flat-Bed System of lcnsaiiiliaesMiailiiinadiiaiaic- Millia. Riecasilbing

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164 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST

LMOST any “eight” is a good per- former. For the multi-cylinder prin- ciple operates like running oil— smoothly and silently. That’s what everyone requires. But— Has it occurred to you that there are radical and fundamental differences in eights? The Apperson design gives to the world eight-cylinder performance, plus. For this motor, while possessing all the vir- tues of the Eight, operates with the thrift of the Four. It’s all in the design. Eighty parts have been eliminated. For example, there is but one cam shaft and only a pair of cam gears meshed direct. There is no chain. This motor is two small, simple fours merged into one at the base. Result! A rare combination of Eight smooth- ness with the advantage of the strictest Four economy.

Drive an Appers gn first then de ide A\PPERSON Bros. AvUTOMOBILE COMPANY, Kokomo, IND Export D irt t © H jred Vi I y-Sev th Street, New York City August 7,1920 The Apperson is one of the feu , Apperson bounds in high fiom 7 mile an hour to burit p Lh {pp JO IN 2O Se nds. From a y ii mile peed comes deal ried out tot ma let ta a dead stop in 4 seconds. Turns in 3514 feet.

Z any Wipe <a eye ead | ZiIGUTY A868 s PETS

PART. s

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(Continued from Page 162) besought the flitting girls to stop for but a moment’s chat, or flung out an amusing impertinence that caught some damsel on the fly. There was a great deal of laughter. A Spanish orchestra back in the trees twanged away on its guitars, and even though unheeded, furnished a background to the noise. An abatement of this noise suddenly took place. Rapid admonitions found their way to the groups and individuals who still talked or laughed on. Shortly silence reigned. Colonel and Mrs. Peyton were leading their especial guests into the grove. There ensued a few moments of well-bred confusion while places were found. Then the colonel straightened him- self and faced the assembly. “You are welcome, friends,’ he said. “Tt is pleasant to greet you here once more. This occasion is always one near my heart, and my wish is that it may continue for many years to come.” He raised a wine glass to the light. ‘‘I will ask you to drink with me to the fiesta of her who makes this rancho what it is—many happy returns.” He turned and bowed low to Mrs. Pey- ton. The people all over the grove strug- gled to their feet—no easy matter from the stationary benches. The air cried with the shouts in English and Spanish. And the spirits of the trees—which, though shy, are friendly spirits—must have plucked up heart against the noise and drawn nearer to that composite glow of good feeling. All reseated themselves and attacked with appetite the good things offered. The food at the colonel’s tables was exactly that of the others—the juicy barbecued meat with the fiery sauce, the tamales and tortillas, the beans and soda biscuits, all brought round in pails and pans and served with dippers. But it was very good. The only difference was in the silver, the glass, the napkins and the wines. Of the latter the colonel was proud. The white wines had been carefully chilled in the spring house; the red wines turned in the sun by the colo- nel’s own hand. Sing Toy and two younger replicas had charge of serving them. At the colonel’s right sat Allie, for was she not the guest of honor? At his left billowed Mrs. Crosby. Mrs. Wallace was across the way, and so the colonel found himself surrounded with dignity, substan- tial importance and what would have been a certain stodginess had it not been for his own inexhaustible and genuine desire that everyone have a good time. He plied them with courtesy, with food, with drink, with rather elaborate old compliments, pretend- ing to believe that remote yesterdays were but just round the corner. And every few moments he would remark with an air of discovery on the excellence of some dish, and would send for the cook thereof. “These are real camp soda biscuits,’’ he told Mrs. Crosby. ‘Just the kind you will get on rodeo. I wonder who made them? Who made these biscuits, Ynez?’’ he asked a Spanish girl who passed. ‘Find out, and ask the one who cooked them to step here a moment. You won't mind, will you?” he flattered Mrs. Crosby. ‘So you made these soda biscuits!’”’ he said a moment later as a lazy, awkward American cowboy stood before him twisting his broad hat. ‘*Well, you are an artist, and I wanted Mrs. Peyton to see you and tell you so.” “Indeed, they are delicious. Better than I could do myself. And you know I am quite a cook,” said Mrs. Peyton briskly. ‘Yes, ma’am,”’ said the cowboy. “‘ You'd do a heap better always if you use a Dutch oven ’stead of a stove.” He retired hot with embarrassment, cut- wardly stolid and inwardly tickled to death. In like manner a farmer’s wife was com- plimented on her jelly, though in her case the colonel gallantly hunted her up to tell her. Indeed, the colonel was always pop- ping up and moving about to exchange a few words with his guests at the other tables. But also some things had been con- tributed by those sitting at the colonel's own table. “Mrs. Mainwaring,” the colonel called down the line to a little middle-aged Southern woman, “nobody north of the Mason and Dixon's can make beaten bis- cuits. That has been proved to-day. With- out your kindness we should have missed one of our most delicate gastronomic treats.” As the meat was passed he remarked loudly so that all could hear: ‘‘ You must remember to take plenty of the sauce. The barbecue is nothing without it. None can make the pepper flavor that goes into it unless one has lived in the old days. Is it not so, Dofia Paredis?”’ But the great moment was when—the serving over—Benito was summoned to receive his compliments, for in the final analysis his had been the responsibility for the gastronomics of the party, and his was now the glory. It was fairly a ceremony, with courtly little speeches on both sides. Benito bore himself with dignity and ac- quitted himself loftily; one would have said "a knight-errant acknowledging due praise from his liege. But all was not on so high a plane. There was a good deal of noise at the colonel’s tables, as well as in the grove at large Corbell and his half dozen boon companions had preémpted an end of the other table, where they were having close-corporation jokes among themselves and accumulating an extraordinary number of long-necked bottles. Kenneth Boyd was still with the group of pretty girls. The two other young men proved to be rather harmless local nonentities, but the damsels were at once pretty, stylish and lively. Kenneth pos- sessed certain advantages, such as a New York address, a jeweled fraternity pin, a preposterously long-visored cap with tan- gled college insignia embroidered on the front, asmall knack with a guitar, a varied repertoire of perfectly killing college songs of a humorous trend, a half dozen jingles that turned most daringly on kissing, and a tiny gold ring with enamel forget-me-nots that looked as though it might have been given him by some girl. It must not be forgotten that he was young and good-looking and not at all shy. Of course he could not deploy all these ad- vantages at once, nor is the above claimed to be a complete catalogue, but enough has been suggested. If the reader has ever been young he—or she—can see at once that the party here was going to be a suc- cess. Indeed, soon after the cool sliced tomatoes had been served the whole lot of them by common consent left the tables and seated themselves on the grass at some distance. Kenneth had borrowed a guitar from the musicians. He was sur- rounded by fluffy, gay nymphs of different types, but all young and charming. Two negligible males had been supplied by Providence as witnesses. He teased and was teased. He sang his little songs dealing with naughty maidens of the bold black eye, or fishermen who sailed out of Billings- gate. He recited his little verses, notably one that ended to the effect that the hint with all its sweetness her lover did discern; he flung arms around her neck and glued his lips to hern. This elicited shrieks and writhings. The crass vulgarity and bad taste made a piquant contrast to the elegance of the relations between such cultured young people. The girls liked it, but it made them shudder, like the juice of the sweet lemon. Kenneth had a what-cares-he-for conventions feeling, like the young devil he was. Dora Stanley and Myra Welch and Isabelle Carson played up especially well. Dora was the vivid, roguish type Myra the languid, dark, beautiful type; and Isabelle the plump, sentimental type which was, of course, why they were alway together. Martin Stanley and Winchester Carson felt a vast secret contempt, but they could not think of a thing to do about it. Boyd and the banker were still together, and had seated themselves near the middle of the long table. Over the colonel’s rye and bourbon they had fallen in with a num- ber of delightful young-old men, and they were having rather a loud good time. Al ready Boyd had agreed to go riding with them and t9 play poker with then. They had a fund of dry humor, considerable native shrewdness, and a deliberate inten tion to have a good time. Four of them were staying at the Frémont for the winter The three others owned places in the town, where they had retired after stormy Northern business careers in the turbulent seventies. They were after Boyd’s own heart, and he after theirs. But one other group among all the colonel’s guests requires especial mention as having to do with the story. These were three—an elderly Spanish gentleman and his wife and their daughter. They had driven up rather grandly in a victoria with a broad-hatted coachman at the ribbons, and had greeted the colonel with a great deal of ceremony. Don Vincente Cazadero was rather stout, with tufted side whiskers and a clean-shaven chin. He was of course swarthy, but possessed a transparent skin THE SATURDAY EVENING POST —where wealth and fashion congregate ( OU are familiar with the range in quality of summer suits offered by various dealers, Style is often sought at the expense of workmanship; exag gerated extremes are offered as examples of ultra-fashion. In summer clothing bearing the “R& W” mark you will recognize the latest style conforming to the dictates of good taste; fabrics of un- usual beauty, and a superior work- manship which can only be attain- ed by a house which has for years specialized and trained its workers in this particular department. At leading dealers everywhere. Makers of good Overcoats, Raincoats, Trousers, Day and Evening Waistcoats, Smoking Jackets, Bath Robes, Summer Clothing, Golf and Automobile Apparel Rosenwald & Weil Clothing Specialties PRODUCT OF THE DAYLIGHT SHOPS New York Chicago

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THE SATURDAY

166 —~ —— —— in iti, i, ral ee - yo, ta | Ww, <n J ry yy Wf SH WY 1] J Don’t fret! January’s August ? Yearnings Coming

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| should begin without your presence, sefjior. UNION SUITS SHIRTS EVENING POST and haughty eyes. His dress differed in no way from that of the Americans, except that in its small details it went to a refine- ment, a precious meticulosity that found its ultimate expression in his small, tight, exquisite, varnished boots. As he was a little below the average height and a little above the average weight, he carried him- self with the utmost dignity. His wife also was stout. She was placid, unruffled, a little stupid, but evidently of noble race. The daughter was pretty and amiable, but rather insipid, with soft eyes and long lashes. Both women were, as was the cus- tom of their people, overpowde ered. Their gowns were of wonderful, heavy China silk, and their jewels of the first water. This family paid its devoirs to the colonel in most punctilious style, greeted sundry acquaintances, and then drew aside. Don Vincente was the owner of Las Flores rancho, which bounded del Monte on the north But by now the people began rising here and there from the tables. The girls ceased to flit to and fro, and seated themselves at a side table. This was the chance for which some of the young men had waited, and they hastened to supply the damsels with food and drink. Many of the diners strag- gled down from the knoll in the direction of the whitewashed corrals, where the vaqueros were already beginning the sports. Some of the younger couples were trying to dance to the music of the guitars. Couples strayed away up the cafion. Kenneth was one of the first at the corrals. He had never seen cowboy games, and proved most eager. The idea did not at all meet with the approval of his com- panions. The girls had no liking to expose their fresh toilets to the dust, or their fresh complexions to the burning sun and heat. The two young men pretended to be bored with such things. They preferred to remain in the shade with the guitar, so they trailed along back to the lawn under the Cathedral Oaks with the rest of the colonel’s quality guests. The colonel himself went to the corrals. It was part of his hospitable duty to show himself there, he told Mrs. Crosby with apparent regret; and then he scuttled away like a dear old boy, afraid that already he might have missed something. He made his way through the dense-packed crowd, shaking a hand here and there, exchanging remarks and greetings. “What has been done, Manuelo?” he asked in Spanish when he had gained the fairway outside the ropes, where a little group on foot were gathered. The audience were crowded along the lines; they perched on the top rails of all the corrals; and some of the youngest and most active had climbed to the roofs. Inside the ropes, besides the officials mentioned, lounged a number of horsemen, vaqueros and cowboys waiting their turns of the games. The Spaniards were dressed in old-time costumes exhumed for the occasion from brass-studded heir- loom chests, with high-crowned hat heavy with silver; the short jacket and sash; the white-legged pantaloons bound at the knee and split down the calf; the soft leather boots; the heavy silver-inlaid spurs. The American cowboys were not so picturesque in their own persons, but they vied with the others in perfection of equip- ment. All the heavy stock saddles were rich with carvings. Many of them had silver corners, or even silver pommels or cantles. They carried braided rawhide reatas; their horses champed with relish the copper rollers of spade bits whose broad sides were solid, engraved silver; their bridles were of cunningly braided and knotted rawhide, or horsehair colored and woven in patterns. The riders sat with graceful ease far to one side, elbow on knee, smoking brown-paper cigaretces. ‘Nothing yet has been done,”’ Manuelo answered the colonel’s question reproach- fully. “‘It could not be thought of that we

“That is good! That is good!” cried the colonel, delighted. ‘‘Well, here Lam! Let us start! “Will the senor ride Caliente and judge the games?’ ‘The senior will not!’ rejoined the colo- nel emphatically. ‘‘ You are a lazy fellow, Manuelo. I shall watch the games, and you will act as judge.” ‘It is good,” agreed Manuelo, and swung himself into the saddle of a magnificent pinto standing near. The colonel retreated to the corral fence, already as full as a tree of blackbirds. How- | ever, at his approach a place magically

August 7,/920 became vacant, while all the bystanders stoutly maintained that that particular point had never had an occupant, but had accidentally remained empty for the colonel. So after some talk he mounted the fence and sat there, his heels hooked over a rail, his long legs tucked up, his black frock coat dangling, his hat on the back of his head, his fine old face alight with en- thusiasm. Kenneth Boyd was also atop the corrals, and he happened to be next the colonel. On his other side perched a long-legged, demure child dressed in a bright dress. She looked to be about twelve or thirteen years old, which was, of course, beneath the par- ticular notice of a man like Kenneth. He glanced at her, thought she was rather an attractive-looking kid, and gave his atten- tion to his surroundings. By now the sun was getting strong. Dust rose in the heated air. People were packed in close together. The sun and the crowd- ing and the food and the red wine com- bined to turn faces red, to wilt collars and starched toilets; but nobody minded. “‘Great fun, great fun, my boy!”’ cried the colonel to Kenneth, whom of course he did not remember. ‘‘ Hello, Puss!’’ he cried across at the child. ‘‘Why aren’t you out there on the pony?” “I am getting much too big for such things,”’ replied Daphne composedly. ‘“*So, ho!” cried the colonel, delighted. **Getting to be a young lady, are we? Do you know,” he said to Kenneth, “this very grown-up young person is one of the best riders we have? This is the first merienda for two years at which she has not riddan. The people will shout for you, nita,” he told Daphne **They will not get me,” she replied. Kenneth, thus led by this cross conver- sation to observe again his neighbor, smiled upon her the smile appropriate from one of his age and station. “IT should have liked very much to see you ride,” he said kindly. ‘‘Have you a pony of your own?” But she did not reply. Kenneth looked at hersharply. He could not for a moment determine whether this chit had deliber- ately ignored him, or whether her whole interest was centered on a group of horse- men at which she seemed to be gazing. ‘*Now you will see the California sports as they were in the old days,” the colonel was saying. ‘‘See, there they go now!” The horsemen had come to life and were swooping gracefully back and forth like swallows. It was an exhibition only. Men “turned on a ten-cent piece,” charged at full speed only to pull to a stand in a plunge and a slide, reined their horses to the per- pendicular and half turned in midair, described figure eights at fullspeed. It was a gay scene of animation. Then little by little the movement died, leaving the hors« men grouped at one end of the course. Manuelo now rode to a middle point, directing the activities of two men with shovels. They dug a small hole and buried something mysterious in the loosened light earth. ““Why, it’s a chicken!" cried Kenneth. The fowl had been buried all but its head, which was extended anxiously in a most comical manner. But now one of the riders detached himself from the others and came flying down the course at full speed. When within ten feet of the buried chicken he seized his saddle horn with his left hand and leaned from the saddle in a long, graceful, dipping swoop. The long spur slid up to the cantle and clung there. With his right hand he reached for the neck of the half-buried fowl. But at the last instant, as he left the saddle, his horse shied ever so slightly away from that suspicious object on the ground. José’s clutching fingers missed by inches, and he swept grandly by and lightly up into his saddle again, empty-handed. ‘That looks to be quite a trick, anyhow,” observed Kenneth with respect. “It’s a knack,” agreed the colonel. “A beginner is likely to go off on his head. Isn’t he, Puss?” “Can you do that?” Kenneth asked. “Of course,” replied Daphne blandly. “Can't you?” Kenneth was spared the necessity of reply. Another contestant had managed to illustrate the colonel’s remark, and had gone off on his head—a little too long a reach, a trifle too much weight on the bent knee, the least possible hesitation in the pendulumlike swoop. His misfortune was greeted by laughter and ironic cheers. (Continued on Page 169)

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(Continued from Page 166) Several mounted men shook loose their reatas and loped away after his horse. But the chicken’s good luck was at an end. The next contestant caught it by the neck and rode down the course swinging it triumphantly. ‘That is what I do not like,” said Daphne unexpectedly. “Poor chicken!” “The shock breaks its neck,” said the colonel, ‘‘and José will have gallina to- night.” “I know, but I do not like it,” insisted Daphne. The next event should have pleased her better. Here horsemen armed with long and slender lances tilted at rings suspended and swaying in the light breeze. The audi- ence, however, evinced but a languid inter- est in this graceful sport. It woke up for the next event, which was a race between a man afoot and a man horseback, twenty- five yards and back. This was very excit- ing. The man had the advantage of his quick start and quick turn; the horse, of course, possessed thespeed. Anybody could try who wished, and there were a number of young men who confidently matched their legs or those of their horses against the other fellow. Here was a chance to bet, and the crowd took advantage of it. Then followed, of course, horse races— mere dashes of a hundred yards or so; the roping of very lively goats that dodged fairly un- der the horses’ legs or into the crowd, which scattered, laughing; and roping and tying calves against time. “‘We used to have broncho riding and bulldogging steers,’’ observed the colonel regretfully, ‘‘but that is a little rough and dangerous unless you can get the people behind fences or some sort of protection. It is better at the round-up.” ‘*What is bulldogging?”’’ asked Kenneth. “The man rides up alongside the steer, seizes him by the horns and throws him.” **T don’t see how he stays on ——” ‘*His horse? He doesn’t. He leaves the saddle and lets his horse go.” “And wrestles down a full-grown steer by main strength?” cried Kenneth in- credulously. “That’s it. But it is a knack very largely. “‘T certainly should like to see that.” **You shall, you shall!” cried the colonel heartily. ‘‘ We'll get up a little roughriding one of these days and invite all the people like yourself who have not seen any of it Let me you are out here for the win- ter?” “Yes, sir. My name is Boyd. I staying with my father at the hotel.” ‘I shall remember that. And now,” announced the colonel regretfully, “‘I sup- pose I must leave. Some of our guests will be going soon, and I would displease Mrs. Peyton if I were not there to say good-by.”’ He sprang down as lightly as a boy, arranged his frock coat and his hat, and made his way slowly through the crowd, a tall and commanding figure among even these sturdy sons and daughters of the open. Kenneth turned to say something to his companion on the other side, but she, too, had disappeared. see, am Vv HE shadows were long and cool, and a rose light rested on the mountains. Swallows had appeared and were darting in myriads across the sky. The meadow larks’ songs seemed louder and more liquid. A thin mist of gold dust followed the wheels of the guests departing. The vivid, high brilliance of the California day had sunk to a lower key, and the vivid, high brilliance of man’s spirits had sunk with it. From the front steps, where,once more the cdlonel and his wife had taken their stand, the branches of the oaks showed very black against the pale-green sky. Across the flats the westerly hills stood dark before the sun set, clearly defined, with gold edges. The blue of the heavens had lost its hard sur face. It had etherealized and become trans lucent, so that one seemed to see millions of miles into its pale-green depths. And its one doubtful star, instead of being pasted against the sky, appeared to swim some- where, at an indeterminate distance in infinite space. Under the trees the shadows stole out, breathing coolness, throwing the vagueness of twilight over well-known things. Brainerd was the last of all the guests to leave. He was waiting for Daphne, who had disappeared. Caught by the spell of the slow-descending evening, he stood with his host and hostess in silence, without THE SATURDAY EVENING POST impatience, without thought of fatigue Then out of the dusk came Daphne, break- ing the spell. ““Where in the world have you been?’ demanded Brainerd a little impatiently. oo ou have kept us all waiting. “Tam sorry for that,’ up to the colonel and iti aking his hand. ‘Where were you? “Talking to my friends,” she replied vaguely. “Well, we must get back.” “‘Cannot I have Juan drive you over?” asked the colonel. “No, no!”’ dise laimed Brainerd. walk will do us good.” “The light on the mountains must be very fine,’’ suggested the colonel. ‘‘ What say,mamma. Don’t you think it would be pleasant to walk a short distance with our friends?” ‘Pleasant and salutary,”’ laughed Allie. “*T feel like a stuffed turkey after these bar becues. Everything is so good. Wait until I get my shawl.” The colonel and Daphne sauntered on ahead, while Brainerd, seating himself on the steps, lighted a pipe and waited for Mrs. Peyton. “Had a pleasant day, Puss?” asked the colonel, throwing one arm round the child’s shoulders. “Simply lovely, fairy godpapa,’ plied, snuggling closer to him. “That’s good, that’s good,” ‘The * she re- said he, rais- ing his fine old face to peer up through the ' interlocking branches. They were now at the edge of the grove under a great oak whose branches, immense as the trunks of ordinary-sized trees, writhed and twisted fantastically, now reaching up- ward toward the low hollow dome of green, now touching the ground in their wide- flung spread. The main trunk was nearly six feet in diameter, but divided at so low a height that three unobtrusive cleats nailed to its side sufficed to admit even a very small climber to the great anacondalike limbs. *Dolman’s House,’ stop a minute.” She dipped slightly away from him, but continued to hold his hand. They stood side by side, looking upward. “You used to play here all your time when you were a little girl,” said the colonel—‘‘all by yourself. I used to see you sitting there very still on the crook of that big limb, and I used to wonder what you could be doing to sit still so long.” Godpapa, do you believe in fairies?’ demanded Daphne abruptly. ‘Well, bless my soul, what a question!’ cried the colonel, looking down in mock astonishment. ‘‘Of course I don’t! What sensiblemandoes? But,” headded quaintly, lowe ‘ring his voice and looking about him, “the ‘re are a few near the Fe rm Falls. ‘That is a perfect answer,’ ’ Daphne told him sedately. ‘‘Well, Dolman, I believe, is a fairy—a tree fairy. He lives in this oak. That's why I named it Dolman’s House.” “T often wondered,” said the colonel ‘*When I was a child I used to sit on the limb and talk to Dolman.” “Did you ever see him?’ "said Daphne. “Let’s but I “T can’t say I ever did, am not sure. That is something, godpapa, that I never could understand. I ought to re- member clearly enough; it wasn’t so very long ago.”’ “Not so ve ry, “But it’s dim and misty, mountains when the fog is breaking I ometimes think I remember clearly what happened, and then it's blotted out. I can't explain exactly él “*T think I understand,” said the colonel. ‘There are some things that way with my recollections #f my youth.” ” agreed the colonel. like seeing the “Only it isn’t so strange with you,” said Daphne seriously, “because you are so ex tremely old.” “Extremely,” agreed the colonel. ‘ But tell me more about what you do remember.”” “It sounds rather silly?’’ said Daphne “Of course I don’t believe in it now, but I used to. Somehow I always knew of Dol- man. I used to play with him. I think he used to talk with me. It is hard to remember that it was all imagination. I remember it as real as anything. [| used to sit on the limb and he would talk to me.” “What would he say?” inquired the colonel. “It’s hard to remember 3ut he was kind and he did not seold.”” She laughed merrily. ‘‘Wasn’t it silly?” “‘T don’t know,” said the colonel long ago did you stop talking to him “How * she replied, sidling |

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ANDE RSON ELEC TRIC & EQUIPMENT CO. | ' — ) 154-160 Whiting St. Chicago, Ill. | foreel ite Au an E ithiopian. | out professional honor; ” EVENING POST “‘IT can’t remember that.’’ She hesitated shyly, then went on with more haste: “It’s perfectly silly, but when I come here and sit down even now to read or watch the birds and get day dreaming or half asleep I sometimes hear ~ 3 as plainly as can be, only faint and far off, not near as it used to be, as if his voice were inside me, or as if it were muffled. Then I come to with an awful start.” “That is very interesting. What does he say?” “T never can remember. It’s just a waking dream.” “You never saw Dolman, you say?” “No, I never did. But after I had sat quite still for some time staring out through the leaves I used to see queer things. The leaves would disappear and I would see a sort of revolving disk of gold and black. It was very bright and beautiful, and went round very fast. My heart used to beat so with excitement, and I would try to keep on seeing it, but I never could hold it longer than a moment or so. When I saw it my eyes seemed sort of unfocused, and they always would come back focused again. It was lovely, and I used to think Dolman showed it to me.” “How long since you have seen that?” “Oh, years! But I can shut my eyes and see it sometimes yet. Memory, I suppose. It is not so bright and it moves more slowly than it used to. can sometimes almost make out the pattern on it.”” She hesitated and crept closer to him. ‘‘Godfather, you mustn't laugh. I told you I couldn’t re- member anything Dolman told me. That isn’t so. There is only one thing, but I re- member that very clearly. He said that | when the disk stopped and I could make ’ out the design on it I would die.’ The colonel laughed. “*What quaint ideas little children have, don’t they, Puss?”’ he said in a matter- of-fact —— “No; but listen, godpapa! Here is some- thing I never told a soul. Promise won t tell.’ ‘I promise,” “Not even Aunt Allie?” “Not even Aunt Allie.’ “Well, you remember that Miss Mathews who visited you last spring, and how I found the watch she lost?” “Perfectly.” “We all looked everywhere for it, and she felt so badly about it because it be longed to her mother. I was very sorry for you August 7,1920 her. While I was looking I came out here to Dolman’ s House, and I heard him just as plainly as when I was a child. He said: ‘She dropped it when she was picking flowers.’ And I found out that she had been picking flowers away up the cafion near the falls, and I went up there and found it almost first crack. How do you ’splain that?” She was staring up at him, her face showing pale through the dusk, her eyes wide with excitement. “T declare you do believe in Dolman,”’ accused the colonel in a light tone designed to relieve the tension, ‘‘and I’m almost inclined to myself. I would if he woul i tell me where I left my second-best hat. At this moment Brainerd’s voice heard hailing them. They answered. “Oh, there you are!” he observed, slouching forward with Mrs. Peyton. “Wonder you wouldn’t hide. Come, Daffy, it’s very late.” Daphne made her required little speeches of thanks. “T am going to make some marmalade to-morrow afternoon,’’ Mrs. Peyton told her. ‘‘ Better come over and make some too. I’ll show you my new recipe.” “T will, Aunt Allie. Good night,” plied Daphne. She moved away sedately for ten yards, then came flying back all swirl and legs, seized Coloneland Mrs. Peyton, hugged and kissed them tempestuously and was off again. “*She’s a dear child,” said Mrs. Peyton, rearranging her somewhat rumpled plum- age. ‘I wish she had more young folks to play with.” “She has me,”’ contended the colonel. “Oh, you! I didn’t say I wished she had an infant to care for.” The colonel put his arm round her and they sauntered back toward the twinkling lights of the ranch house. “Happy day, sweetheart?” he asked. ")D° you know, Richard,” she said so- berly, ‘that we are very lucky people? We have each other, and dear friends, and live in this wonderful country, and have all the wealth we need.”’ A white figure whereat the colonel rather hastily. “You catch cold,”°commanded Sing Toy. “You come in house light away!” was re- them, arm before his loomed withdrew TO BE CONTINUED TUTT AND MR. TUTT Continued from Page 13 “IT don’t! Of course not! And frankly, I don’t know what a shyster is.” “Neither do I,” admitted Tutt. “But it sounds opprobrious. Still, that is a rather dangerous test. You remember that col- ored client of ours who wanted us to bring an action against somebody for calling him an E thiopian !”’ rhere’s nothing dishonorable in being asserted Miss Wiggin. “A shyster,”’ said Mr. Tutt, reading from the Century Dictionary, ‘‘is defined as ‘one who does business trickily; a person with- used chiefly of law yers. “Well?” snapped Tutt. “Well?” echoed Miss Wiggin. “H’m! Well!” concluded Mr. Tutt. “IT nominate for the first pedestal in our Hall of Legal Ill Fame— Raphael B. Ho- gan,’ announced Tutt, complacently disre- garding all innuendces. “But I 1e’sa very elegant and gentlemanly person,” objec ted Miss Wiggin as she warmed the cups. ‘* My idea of a shyster is a down-at-the-heels, unshaved and gener- ally disreputable-looking police-court law- yer — preferably with a red nose—who murders the English language—and who makes his living by preying upon the ignor- ant and helpless.” “Like Fink lestein?”’ suggested Tutt. “Exactly!” agreed Miss Wiggin. ‘‘ Like F inklestein. - “‘He’s one of the most honorable men I know!” protested Mr. Tutt. “‘My dear Minerva, you are making the great mis- take—common, I confess, toa large number of people—of associating dirt and crime. Now dirt may breed crime, but crime doesn’t necessarily breed dirt.” “You don’t have to be shabby to prey upon the ignorant and helpless,”’ argued Tutt. ‘Some of our most prosperous breth- ren are the worst sharks out of Sing Sing.” ‘That is true!’ she admitted, “ but tell it not in Gath!” “‘A shyster,”’ began Mr. Tutt, unsuccess- fully applying a forced draft to his stogy and then throwing it away, “bears about the same relation to an honest lawyer as a cad does toa gentleman. The fact that he’s well dressed, belongs to a good club and has his name in the Social Register doesn't af- fect the situation. Clothes don’t make men: they only make opportunities, “But why is it,” persisted Miss Wiggin, “that we invari: tbly associate the idea of crime with that of ‘poverty, hunger and dirt’?”’ > That is easy to explain,” asserted Mr. Tutt. “The criminal law originally dealt only with crimes of violence—such as mur- der, rape and assault. In the old days people ‘didn’t have any property in the modern sense —except real property. The ov had no bonds or stock or bank accounts. Now it is of course true that rough, ignorant people are much more prone to violence of speech and action than those of gentle breeding, and hence most of our crimes of violence are committed by those whose lives are those of squalor. But’’—and here Mr. Tutt’s voice rose indignantly —“‘our great- est mistake is to assume that crimes of violence are the most dangerous to the state, for they are not. They cause greater disturbance and perhaps more momentary inconvenience, but they do not usually evince much moral turpitude. After all, it does no great harm if one man punches an- other in the head, or even in a fit of anger sticks a dagger in him. The police can easily handle all that. The real danger to the com- munity lies in the crimes of duplicity —the cheats, frauds, false pretenses, tricks and devices, flimflams—practiced most success- fully by well-dressed gentlemanly crooks of polished manners.” (Continued on Page 173)

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172 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST August 7,1920 rd Look for this trade mark és! ~ wa = ~f . 4 ’ a A Et ai’, ‘ : | ee Sy Oe Se y : ‘ ' > ‘ * ~ P.. @ REG.U.S. PAT OFF, ELECTRIC WASHING MACHINE J P . \ This view of APEX oscillating tub shows its original washing principle, proved correct by 12 years’ use. Note absence of moo able parts to cause wear or tear Wring in the Old, Wring out like New Into the APEX tub: goes each part at all. It’s the modern, soiled piece, wrung free of the | economical way to wash your soaking water. Out it comes gauze-like lingerie or heaviest again in a few short minutes, blankets perfectly. refreshed and as clean as new. The APEX Ironer The APEX oscillating tub takes Is a practical home ironing machine, because out every speck of dirt safely it does virtually all pieces for you—makes er ‘ z ? dresses, petticoats, rompers, shirts and flat- by vacuum suction, then the work prettily smooth. Heats at small cost NeIndind wringer takec > with gas, gasoline or electricity. Combines SwilhnS w ringer takes out the hand and foot control. See both APEX water—with no work on your machines at our dealers’. Your nearest APEX dealer’s name sent on request—also interesting new booklet, ‘Washing, Ironing and Cleaning Helps,”’ FREE. Write for it. APEX APPLIANCE COMPANY, 3223-3263 West 30th Street, CHICAGO “For Canada,” RENFREW REFRIGERATOR COMPANY, Limited. Head Office and Works, Renfrew, Ont ma Nas APEX DOMESTIC IRONER

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(Continued from Page 170) By this time the kettle was boiling cheer- fully, quite as if no such thi ing as criminal law existed at all, and Miss Wiggin began to make the tea. “All thesame,”’ she ruminated, “‘ people— particularly very poor people- —are often drive on to crime by ne cessity. “It’s Nature’s first law,’ Tutt brightly. Mr. Tutt uttered a snort of disgust. “It may be Nature’s first law, but it’s about the weakest defense a guilty man can offer. ‘I couldn’t help myself’ has always bee *n the excuse for helping oneself!” “Rather good—that!” approved Wi iggin. “Can you do it again?” ‘The victim of circumstances is inevita- bly one who has made a victim of someone blandly went on Mr. Tutt without hesitation. “Ting-a-ling! laughed “It’s ‘There contributed Miss else,” tight on the bell!” she true!’’ he assured her seriously. are two defenses that are played out—necessity and instigation. They've never been any good since the Almighty overruled Adam’s plea confession and avoidance that a certain female codefendant took advantage of his hungry innocence and put him up to it.” *“*No one could res pect » hide behind a mented Tutt. “Are you referring to Adam?” 3 partner. : An) vhow, not that Ni iture,’ but law.’”” ‘T’'ll bet you llir in a man who tried te woman’s skirts!’" com- inquired come to think of it, the maxim ‘Necessity is the first law of that ‘Necessity knows no * began Tutt. Then he paused, recalling a certain celebrated wager which he had lost to Mr. Tutt upon the question of who cut Samson’s hair. ‘I bet you don’t know who said it!” he concluded lamely ‘If I recall ec “Shakspere says must Rabelais say the quotation we fam ity knows no law wh h is from Publil ‘From who?” cried Tutt in ungrammat- al surprise “Never mind!” soothed Miss Wiggin. “Anyway it wasn’t Raphael B. Hogan.” “Who certainly completely satisfies your definition so far as preying upon the ig- norant and helpless is concerned,” said Mr. Tutt. “‘That man is a human hyena worse than a highwayman.” “Yet he’s a swell dresser Tutt. ‘‘Owns his house and lives in a with his wife.” “Doubtless he’ rrectly,”” ruminated Mr. in Julius Cwsar that obey necessity’ while *Necess “ y has no law’; but iarly use is ‘Neces- , except to conquer, ius Sy rus 3 interjected mity a loyal husband and a devoted father,”” agreed Mr. Tutt. “But o, very likely, is the hyena. Certainly Hogan hasn’t got the excuse of nece ssity for doing what he does.” ‘Don’t you suppose he has to give up ’** demanded sand bond kinds of ' good an id plenty to somebody 7. & ops and pri on keepers men and under sheriffs, and all crooked petty officials. I should worry their bael “Great fleas have little leas upon to bite ’em, And little fleas have l er flea , and so ad infinitum, quoted Miss Wiggin reminiscently. ‘**A flea has to bea flea,”’ continued Tutt ‘He, or it, can’t be anything else, but Hogan doesn’t have to be a lawyer. He could be an honest man if he chose.’ ‘He? Not on your life! He couldn't ve honest if he tried!’’ roared Mr. Tutt ‘He’s just a carnivorous animal! A man eater! They talk about scratching a Russian and finding a Tartar; I'd hate to ” scratch some of our legal brethre n. ““So would I!” assented Tutt. “I gues you're right, Mr. Tutt. Christianity and the Golden R ~ are all right in the upper ocial circles, but off Fifth Avenue there’s the same sort of struggle for existence that goes on in the animal world. A man may be all sweetness and light to his wife and children and go to church on Fant ays; he may even play pretty fair with his own gang; but outside of his home and social circle he’s a ravening wolf; at least Raphael B. Hogan is!” The subject of the foregoing entirely accidental conversation was at that mo- ment standing contemplatively in his office window smoking an excellent cigar prepara- tory to returning to the bosom of his family. Raphael B. Hogan believed in taking life easily. He was accustomed to say that THE SATURDAY outside office hours his time belonged to his wife and children; and several times a week he made it his habit on the way home to supper to stop at the florist’s or the toy shop and bear away with him inexpensive tokens of his love and affection. On the desk behind him, over which in the course | of each month passed a lot of very dirty, tainted money, stood a large photograph of Mrs. Hogan, and another of the three little Hogans in ornamented silver frames, and his face would soften tenderly at the sight of their self-conscious faces, even at a moment when he might be relieving a widowed seamstress of her entire savings- bank account. After five o’clock in his own case the hyena purred at his wife and licked his cubs; the rest of the time he knew no mercy. But avarice he concealed his cruelty and his under a mask of benignity. He was fat, jolly and sympathetic, and his smile was the smile of a warm-hearted humanitarian. The milk of human kind- ness oozed from his every pore. In fact, he was always grumbling about the amount of work he had to do for nothing. He was a genial, generous host; unostentati ously conspicuous in the local religious life of his denomination; in court a model of obse- quious urbanity, deferential to the judges before whom he appeared and courteous to all with whom he was thrown in contact A good-natured, easy-going, simple-minded fat man; deliberate, slow of speech, well meaning, with honesty sticking out all over him, you would have said; one in whom the widow and the orphan would have found a staunch protector and an unselfish friend. And now, having thus subtly connoted the character of our villain, let us proceed with our narrative. The telephone buzzed on the wall vet beside him. “That you, chief?’’ came the voice of Simpkins. “Yep.” “Got one off Delany.’ “What is it?”’ “Kid smashed a window ’ malicious mis- chief. Held for examination to-morrow at two. Five hundred bail.” “Any sugar?” ‘Don’t know. Says his father’s dead and mother earns seventeen a week in a sweat- shop and sends him to school. Got some insurance. I’m going right round there now.” “Well,” replied Hogan, “‘don’t scare her at first. I by taking too much off her sup- pose there’s evidence to hold him? “Sure. Delany says he saw it.” “All right. But go easy! Good night “Leave that to me, chief!" assured Simp- kins. ‘See you to-morrow.” It will be observed that in this profes- sional interchange nothing at all was said regarding the aywery sd of establishing Tony’s innocence, but that on the contrary Mr. Simpkins’ mind was concentrated upon his mother’s ability to pay. This wa the only really important consideration to either of them. But Hogan did not worry, because he knew that Simpkins would skill fully entangle Mrs. Mathusek in such a web of apprehension that rather than face her fears she would if necessary go out and steal the money. So Mr. Raphael B. Hogan hung up the receiver and with his heart full of gentle sympathy for all mankind walked slowly home, pausing to get some roses for Mrs. Hogan and te » buy a box for Daddy Long Legs at the Strand, for whenev er he got a new case he always made it the occa sion for a family party, and he wanted the children to benefit by passing an evening under the sweet influence of Miss Pickford Now just at the moment that he was buy ing the roses Mr. Simpkins entered the Mathusek and informed her of Tony’s arrest and incarceration. He was very sympathetic about it, very gentle this dapper little man with the pale gray eyes and inquisitive, tapirlike nose; and after the first moment of shock Mr Mathusek took courage and begged the gentkeman to sit down. There are alway two vultures hanging over the poor— death and the law; but of the two the law is the lesser evil. The former is a calamity; the latter is a misfortune. The one is final, hopeless, irretrievable; from the other there may perhaps be an escape. She knew Tony was a good boy; was sure his arrest was a mistake, and that when the judge heard the evidence he would let Tony go. Life had dealt hardly with her and made her an old woman at thirty-two, really old, not only in body but in spirit, just as in the middle ages apartment of Mrs. the rigor of existence made | EVENING POST ~_ = yy Boot J ST the shoe you would « you the art and the gen craltsmen In all tl wi hoe that is TAILORED ‘Individual pattern for ever for every part of every represent 105 distinct that is in pected Si tine t } ip to the last minute The PAILORED"” prin exclusive orig ition Only SHAPE TAILORED Mode you the style and the indi viduality you seek, Pt $12 to $18 Inquire at your SHO SHOP or write for nat t nearest dealer For Fall. 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In thi way the narrow water passages are kept clean, oil is saved, cooling is improved and the motor performs better Not a Radiator Cement X"" is not ! meal but a ss that scientifin all water a flaxsee liquid proce repairs and improve oling systems Be safe. Ask for the original “*X" Liquid STANDARD SIZE—$1.50 Will Do $25.00 in Repair Work FORD SIZE —75c At your dealer's or mailed direct on receipt of price “X" LABORATORIES 25 West 45th Street, New York City 450 Rialto Bldg., San Francisco Makes all water seins Sys LEAKPROOF-RUSTPROOF-SCALEPROOF y ; — +h Wns rns , y F o Fi ho gall : ¢ oe ttigy + hdee ps tems

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Sriple Anee ana make this Iron Clad No. 17 is a stocking which made to re ings are subjected during school days. has been ist the extra hard usage to which stock- It is a tine-rib, good-looking black stocking for boys and girl \lade of the best grade of combed , varn with its “ph and double sole, knee unusually durable. lisle and toe, it 1 heel [t is not high price d—sizes 6 to 7’ are eighty tive cents per pair, s1zes 5 to I are one dollar, and sizes 10’ and Il are one dollar and a quarter (east of the Rockies). If there is no lron Clad dealer near by, from us, ene losing remittance and stating size. order will be shipped promptly, postage paid. Cooper, Wells & Co. 212 Vine Street order direct Your St. Joseph, Michigan ‘Dewi Sole stocking durable Yas "OR . ~ be ‘ i L \ . i 4. ‘ / \ 4 4 ‘ \ ) A | } . \, | % 5 ‘ oe ra \ Baa ‘ \ Bt XN ) ‘ ‘ ‘ " J Netti 4 “Ss wat HD — “CORNS” euve/ Removed with “Freezone” It Doesn't Hurt a Bit! Apply a few drops of Freezone on a touchy corn or a callus for a few nights. It stops aching after the first application, then shortly you lift that bothersome corn or callus right off. No pain at all! Any Corn—Anywhere—Also b ' No soreness m. Calluses on Bottom of Feet You can lift off every hard corn, soft corn, also corns between the toes and the “‘hard-skin’’ calluses on bottom of feet Tiny bottles of Freezone, sufficient to clear your feet of every corn and callus, can be obtained at drug stores anywhere! Edward Wesley and Co., Cincinnati, O. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST even kings old at thirty- five. What do the rich know of age? The women of the poor have a day of spring, a year or two of sum- mer, and a lifetime of autumn and winter. Mrs. Mathusek distrusted the law and lawyers in the abstract, but Mr. Simpkins’ appearance was so reassuring that he al- most counteracted in her mind the distress of Tony’s misfortune. He was clearly a gentleman, and she had a reverential re- gard for the gentry. What gentlefolk said was to be accepted as true. In addition this particular gentleman was learned in the law and skilled in getting unfortunate people out of trouble. Now, though Mr. Simpkins possessed undoubtedly this latter qualification, it was also true that he was equally skilled in getting people into it. If he ultimately doubled their joys and halved their sorrows he inevitably first doubled their sorrows and halved their savings. Like the witch in Macbeth: “Double, double toil and trouble.” His aims were childishly simple: First, to find out how much money his victim had, and then to get it. His methods were no more complicated than his aims and had weathered the iest of generations of amar gs So “Of course Teny must be bailed out,” he said gently. ‘‘You don’t want him to spend the night in {3 Tag “Jail! Oh, no! How mucl cried Tony’s mother. “Only five hundred dollars.” 3 the bail? His pale gray eyes were watching her for the slightest sign of suspicion. ‘Five hundred doll: ars! Eoi! Eoi! It is a fortune! Where can I get five hundred dollars?’’ She burst into tears. mt have saved only one hundred and sixty!” Mr. Simpkins pursed his lips. Then there was nothing for it! He reached for his hat. Mrs. Mathusek wrung her hands. Couldn't the gentleman go bail for Tony? He was such a dear, kind, good gentleman! She searched his face hungrily. Mr. Simpkins falteringly admitted that he did not possess five hundred dollars “But ” he hesitated. “Teal” “But ——” she echoed, seizing his sleeve and dragging him back Mr. Simpkins thought that they could hire somebody to go bail; no, in that case there would be no money to pay the great lawyer whom they must af once engage to defend her son— Mr. Hogan, one who had the pull and called all the judges by their first names. He would not usually go ir.to court for less than five hundred dollars, but Mr. Simpkins said he would explain the circumstances to him and could almost promise Mrs. Mathusek that he would persuade him to do it this once for one hundred and fifty. So well did he act his part that Tony’s mother had to force him to take the money, which she unsewed from inside the ticking of her mattress. Then he conducted her to the station house to see how comfortable Tony wy! was and how much better it was to let him stay in jail one night and make sure of his being turned out the next afternoon by giving the money to Mr. Hogan, than to use it for getting bail for him and leave him lawyerless and at the mercy of his accusers. When Mrs. Mathu- sek saw the cell Tony was in she became even more frightened than she had been at first. But by that time she had already given the money to Simpkins. Second thoughts are ofttimes best. Most crooks are eventually caught through their having, from long immunity, grown care- less and yielded to impulse. Once he had signed the complaint in which he swore that he had seen Tony throw the brick, Delany had undergone a change of heart. Being 2n experienced poli eman he was sensitive to okicial atmosphere, and he had developed a hunch that Judge Harrison was leery of the case. The more he thought of it the less he liked the way the son-of-a- gun had acted, the way he’d tried to get Mathusek to ask for an immediate hearing. Why had he ever been such a fool as to sign the complaint himself? It had been ridicu- lous—just because he was mad at the boy for trying to get awe ay an 1 wanted to make things eas sy for Froelich. If he went on the stand the next afternoon he’d have to make up all sorts of fancy details, and Hogan would have his skin neatly tacked to the barn door for keeps. Thereafter, no matter what happened, he’d never be able to change his testimony. After all, it would be easy enough to abandon the charge at the present point. It was a genuine case of cold feet. He scented trouble. He wanted to renig while the renigging was good. August 7,1920 What in hell had Froelich ever done for him anyhow? A few measly pieces of roast! When Hogan returned home that eve- ning with the little Hogans from the movies he found the cop waiting for him outside his door. “Look here,’ Delany whispered, “I’m going to can this here Mathusek window ease. I’m going to fall down flat on my identification and give you a walkout. So go easy on me and sort of help me along, see? “The hell you are!” retorted Hogan in- dignantly. “Then where do I come in, eh? Why don’t you come through?’ “But I’ve got him wrong!” pleaded De lany. “You don’t want me to put my neck in a sling, do you, so as you can make a few dollars? Look at all the money I’ve sent your way. Have a heart, Rafe!” “Bull!” sneered the Honorable Rafe. “A man’s gotta live! You saw him do it! You’ve sworn to it, haven’t you?” “IT made a mistake.” “How’ll that sound to the commis- sioner? An’ to Judge Harrison? No, no! Nothin’ doin’! If you start anythi ing like that I’ll roast the life out of you!” Delany spat as near Hogan's foot elegantly could. ‘You're a hell of growled, and turned his upon Satan. as he a feller back on you are!"’ he him us The brick that Terry MeGurk hurled as a matter of prin iple through Froelich’s window produced almost as momentous consequences as the want of the horseshoe nail did in Franklin's famous maxim. It is the unknown element ry transaction that makes for danger. The morning after the catastrophe Mr Froelich promptly made ap: lie ition to the casualty company with w! hich he had in sured his window for reimbursement for his damage. in eve Just as promptly the company’ lawyer appeared at the butcher shop and ascertained that the miscreant who had done the foul deed had been arrested and was to be brought into court that afternoor This lawyer, whose salary depended indi rectly upon the success which attended hi efforts to secure the conviction and punish ment of those who had cost his company money, immediately camped upon ti trails of both Froelich and Delany. It wa up to them, he said, to have the doer of wanton mischief sent away. If they didn’ coéperate he would most certainly ascer tain why. Now insurance companies are powerful corporations. They can do favors, and contrariwise they can make trouble, and Lawyer Asche was hot under the collar about that window. Had he ever heard of the place he would have likened it to the destruction of Coucy-le-Chateau by the Huns. This, for Delany, put an entirely new aspect upon the affair. It was one thing to ditch a case and another to run up against Nathan Asche. He had sworn to the complaint and if he didn’ t make good on the witness stand Asche would get hi hide. Then he bethought him that if only Froelich was tently emphatie in hi testimony a little uncertainty on his ow: part might be excused. In the meantim« however, two things had happened to curdle Froelich’s enthusiasm. First, hi claim against the Tornado Casualty Com pany had been approved, and second, he had been informed on credible authority suttic that they had got the wrong boy. Now he had sincerely thought that he had seen Tony throw the brick—he had certs ainly seen a boy in a red sweater do something but he realized also that he had been ex- cited and more or less bewildered at the time; and his informant—Mrs. Sussman, the wife of the cigar dealer—alleged posi tively that if had been thrown by a strange kid who appeared suddenly from round the corner and as suddenly ran away in the direction whence he had come. Froelich perceived that he had probably been mistaken, and being relatively hon est—and being also about to get his money —and not wishing to bear false wit ness, particularly if he might later be sued for false imprisonment, he decided to duck and pass the buck to Delany, who was definitely committed. He was shrewd enough, however, not to give his real reason to the policeman, but put it on the ground of being so confused that he couldn’t remember. This left Delany re- sponsible for everything. “But you said that that was the feller!” argued the cop, who had gone to urge Continued on Page 177)

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(Continued from Page 174) Froelich to assume the onus of the charge. ““And now you want to leave me holdin’ the bag!” “Vell, you said yourself you seen him, didn’t you?” replied the German. “ An’ you svore to it. I didn’t svear to noddings. “Aw, you!” roared the enraged cop, and hastened to interview Mr. Asche. Aping a broad humanitarianism he sug- gested to Asche that if Mrs. Mathusek would pay for the window they could afford to let up on the boy. He did it so in- geniously that he got Asche to go round there, only to find that she had no money, all given to Simpkins. Gee, what a mix-up! It is quite possible that even under these circumstances Delany might still have availed himself of what in law is called a locus penitentiz had it not been that the mix-up was rendered still more mixed by the surreptitious appearance in the case of Mr. Michael McGurk, the father of the actual brick artist, who had learned that the cop was getting w wabbly and was enter taining the preposterous possibility of with- drawing the charge against the innocent Mathusek, to the imminent danger of his own offspring. In no uncertain terms the saloon keeper intimated to the now em- barrassed guardian of the public peace that if he pulled anything like that he would have him thrown off the force, to say nothing of other and darker possibilities connected with the morgue. All of which gave Delany decided pause. Hogan, for his own reasons, had mean- while reached an independent conclusion as to how he could circumvent Delany’s con- templated treachery. If, he decided, the cop should go back on his identification of the criminal he foresaw Tony’s discharge in the magistrate’s court, and no more money. The only sure way, therefore, to prevent Tony’s escape would be not to give Delany the chance to change his testimony; by waiving examination before the magistrate and consenting voluntarily to having his client held for the action of the grand jury, in which event Tony would be sent to the Tombs and there would be plenty of time for Simpkins to get an assignment of Mrs. Mathusek’s insurance money before the grand jury kicked out the case. This also had the additional advantage of preventing any funny business on the part of Judge Harrison. Delany was still undecided what he was going to do when the case was called at two o'clock. It is conceivable that he might still have tried to rectify his error by telling something near the truth, in spite of Hogan, Asche and McGurk, but the opportunity was denied him. At two o'clock Tony, a mere chip tossed aimlessly hither and yon by eddies and cross currents, the only person in this melo- drama of motive whose interests were not being considered by anybody, was arraigned at the bar and without being consulted in the matter heard Mr. Hogan, the fat, kindly lawyer whom his mother had re- tained to defend him, tell the judge that they were going to waive examination and consent to be held for the action of the grand jury. “You see how it is, judge,” pered. ‘“‘ You'd have no choice but to hold my client on the officer’s testimony. The easiest way is to waive examination and let the grand jury throw the case out of the window!”’ Delany heard this announcement with intense relief, for it let him out. It would relieve him from the dangerous necessity of testifying before Judge Harrison and he could later spill the case before the grand jury when called before that august body. Moreover, he could tip off the district attorney in charge of the indictment bureau that the case was a lemon, and the latter would probably throw it out on his own motion. The D. A.’s office didn’t want any more rotten cases to prosecute than it could help. It seemed his one best bet, the only way to get his feet out of the flypaper. What a mess for a few pieces of rotten beef! “You understand what is being done, do you?” inquired the keen-faced judge sharply. ‘ You understand this means that unless you give bail you will have to stay in jail until the grand jury dismisses the case or finds an indictment against you?”’ Underneath the cornice of the judge’s dais Hogan patted his arm, and Tony, glancing for encouragement at the big friendly face above him, whispered ‘‘ Yes.” So Tony went to the Tombs and was lodged i cell next door to Soko the ” Hogan sim- THE SATURDAY Monk, who had nearly beaten a Chinaman to death with a pair of brass knuckles, from whom he learned much that was exciting if not edifying. Now, as Delany was wont to say for years thereafter, that damn Mathusek case just went bad on him. He had believed that in the comparative secrecy of the inquisitorial chamber he could easily pre- tend that he had originally made an honest mistake and was no longer positive of the defendant's identity, in which case when the grand jury threw out the case nobody would ever know the reason and no chickens would come home to roost on him. But when the cop visited the office of Deputy Assistant District Attorney Caput Magnus the next morning, to inform him that this here window-breaking case was a Messina, he found Mr. Nathan Asche already solidly there present, engaged in advising Mr. Magnus most emphatically to the exact contrary. Indeed the attorney was rhetorical in his insistence that this destruction of the property of law-abiding taxpayers must stop. Mr. Asche was not a party to be trifled with. He was a rectangular person whom nothing could budge, and his very rec- tangularity bespoke his stubborn rectitude. His shoulders were massive and square, his chin and mouth were square, his burnsides were square cut, and he had a square head and wore a square-topped derby. He looked like the family portrait of Uncle Amos Hardscrabble. When he sat down he remained until he had said his say. It was a misfortunate meeting for Delany, for Asche nailed him upon the spot and made him repeat to Caput Magnus the story of how he had seen Tony throw the brick and then for some fool reason, not being satis- fied to let it go at that, he insisted on calling in a stenographer and having Delany swear to the yarn in affidavit form! This entirely spoiled any chance the policeman might otherwise have had of changing his testi- mony. He now had no choice but to go on and swear the through before the grand jury—which he did. Even that distinguished body of twenty-three representative citizens was not disposed to take the matter very se- case so, riously. Having heard what Delany had to say--and he made it good and strong under the circumstances—several of them remarked disgustedly that they did not understand why the district attorney saw fit to waste their valuable time with trivial cases of that sort. Boys would play ball and boys would throw balls round; if not balls, then stones. They were about to dis- miss by an almost unanimous vote, when the case went bad again. The foreman, a distinguished person in braided broadcloth, rose and announced that he was very much interested to learn their views upon this subject as he was the president of a casualty company, and he wished them to understand that thousands—if not hundreds of thou- sands—of dollars’ worth of plate-glass win- dows were wantonly broken by young toughs every year, for which his and other insurance companies had to recoup the owners. In fact, he alleged heatedly, win- dow breaking was a sign of peculiar vicious- ness. Incipient criminals usually started their infamous careers that way; you could read that in any book on penology. An example ought to be made. He'd bet this feller who threw the brick was a gangster. So his twenty-two fellow grand jurymen politely permitted him to recall Officer Delany and ask him: “Say, officer, isn’t it a fact—just tell us frankly now—if this feller Mathusek isn’t a gangster?” “Sure, he’s a gangster. He was blowin’ about it to me after I arrested him,” Delany without hesitation. The foremen swept triumphant eye. ““Wha’d I tell you?”’ he demanded. “ All in favor of indicting said Tony Mathusek for malicious destruction of property sig- nify in the usual manner. Cont’ri-minded? It’s a vote. Ring the bell, Simmons, and bring on the next case.” swore | the circle with a So Tony was indicted by the People of | the State of New York for a felony, and a learned judge of the General Sessions set his bail at fifteen hundred dollars; and Hogan had his victim where he wanted him and where he could keep him until he had bled his mother white of all she had or might ever hope to have in this world. Everybody was satisfied— Hogan, Simp- kins, Asche, McGurk, even Delany, bec: —_ the fleas upon his back were satisfied and he was planning ultimately to get rid of EVENING POST DMANOL The Perfect Mouthpiece ‘ %, \HERE are few things that Patten Dee bring more happiness than REG.U.S PAT OFF . this: to drift on quiet waters and Shad smoke a pipe with a RepMANo! bit. REDMANOL Is more beauti- ful than amber, yet it is stronger. It is hand-cut by expert work- men into an almost limitless va- And for every style there isa price for every purse, Chemie AGO Dept riety of shapes and styles. 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THE SATURDAY The Greatest Song Novelty in Years - ‘A YOUNG MANS (The Music Box Song and Dance Hit) ‘ 9 ” ‘A Youss Man’s Fancy eA The most novel fox-trot that ever swept America! 1 I} our grandmother Think of the sweet m isic-box 4 ] the greatest little imagine it play Give Me All c of You” Ww Tit i to enjoy ing use syncopating melody you ever sang or danced to! That's ‘AYoung Man’sFancy”’,thesonganddance 7 hit with the “musicbox effect.”” Introduced in J « + 39 New York by the show-hit “What's Ina Name”. Get / Feist” Songs it for your piano, phonograph or player-piano. By John Murray Anderson, Jack Yellen and On Sale Milton Ager—on sale at your At All Good ~S music dealer's Music Stores and at Kresge, Kress, Crory, Grant, Kraft and Metropolitan Stores Pablished by LEO FEIST, Inc. Feist Bidg., New York Canada: 193 Yonge Street Toronto, Ont. ; " : a ; BS See our full Page Ad in this months Ladies La jour hceemsereemeinesene wt ’ bp oe | | | hi Ford Owners Repair Bills | If your Ford engine starts hard, pulls jerkily or carbon- —instead of running up a repair bill. I Save izes fast, try me- | am the Milwaukee Timer, fully — and that’s what you the stat ird replacement time! want! No wonder more | for Fords. By sending the full Milwaukee Timers are sold urrent of the magneto to the than all other makes of replace ls and spark plugs at th ment timers put together right instant, I make each cvl $00,000 last vear; 1,000,000 or inder fire cleanly and power more tor 1920 | | | I | Sold by 75% of all jobbers selling auto- | | motive supplies, and by most dealers. I MILWAUKEE At ENGINE & SuppeLy Co. I} \ MILWAUKEF, WISCONSIN —__ nw Rume f Gkardian i i FORDS EVENING POST ‘ the whole damn tangle by having the indict- ment quietly dismissed when nobody was looking, by his friend O’Brien, to whom the case had been sent for trial. And every- thing being as it should be and Tony being locked safely up in a cell Mr. Joey Simp- kins set himself to the task of extorting three hundred and fifty dollars more from Mrs. Mathusek upon the plea that the great Mr. Hogan could not possibly con- duct the case before a jury for less. Now the relations of Mr. Assistant Dis- trict Attorney O’Brien and the Hon. | Raphael B. Hogan were distinctly friendly. peng Eases oy ‘ Other New | At any rate, whenever Mr. Hogan asked for pe " " ! . . ’ ’ ’ 3344-5523 33 Feist’’ Song Hits an adjournment in Mr. O’Brien’s court he és ees ee7 +4 43 { “Castle of Dreams” usually got it without conspicuous diffi- a a Se “I'm In Heaven When I'm In ray, ae wi spl . — My Mother's Arms culty, and this is what occurred on the five light-ly tuna = to love Po ote sing of “Peggy” “Linger LongerLetty” several occasions that the case of The > + or i! rr ss = carhre t ms ei 7 phoks re a? i People versus Antonio Mathusek came up fy? > = —- t 5 it =} DNA ats In a Mane” “Byetery” | on the trial calendar during the month fol- ” A et . 5 fie 4 Just Like the Rose Vamp” lowing Tony’s incarceration, on each of vou ro mance = ° bove . poder Pape gn a a a ae ee. which Mr. Hogan with unctuous suavity owe ont nate, «AT tod rose and humbly requested that the case be put over at his client’s earnest request in order that counsel might have adequate time in which to subpc@na witnesses and prepare for a defense. And each day Simpkins, who now as- sumedathreateningand fearsomedemeanor toward Mrs. Mathusek, visited the heart- sick woman in her flat and told her that Tony could and would rot in the Tombs until such time as she procured three hundred and fifty di s ars. The first week she assigned her life-insurance money; the second she pawned the furniture; until at last she owed Hogan only sixty-five dollars. At intervals Hogan told Tony that he was trying to force the district attorney to try the case, but that the latter was insisting on delay. In point of fact, O’Brien had never looked at the papers, much less made any effort to prepare the case; if he had he would have found that there was no case at all. And Delany’s mind became at peace because he perceived that at the proper psychological moment he could go to O’Brien and whis- per: “Say, Mr. O’Brien, that Mathusek ease. It’s a turn-out! Better recommend it for dismissal,’’ and O’Brien would do so for the simple reason that he never did any more work than he was actually compelled to do. But as chance would have it, three times out of the five, Mr. Ephraim Tutt happened to be in court when Mr. Hogan rose and made his request for an adjournment; and he remembered it because the offen charged was such an odd one—breaking a window. Delany's simple plan was again defeated by Nemesis, who pursued him in the shape of the rectang Mr. Asche, and who shouldered himself into O’Brien’s office dur- ing the fifth week of Tony’s imprisonment and wanted to know why in hell he didn’t try that Mathusek case and get rid of it. The assistant district attorney had j been called down by his official boss and being still sore was gi: id of a chance to take it out on someone € eal you think I’ve nothin’ better to do than try your damned old window-busting cases?”’ he sneered. ‘‘Who ever had the idea of indicting a boy for that sort of thing anyhow?” “That is no way to talk,”’ answered Mr. Asche with firmness. ‘“‘You’re paid to prosecute whatever cases are sent to you. This is one of "em. There’s been too much delay. Our president wi Il be annoyed.” “Oh, he will, will he?” retorted O’Brien, nevertheless, coming to the instant decision that he had best find some other excuse than mere disinclination. “If he gets too shirty I'll tell him the case came in here without any preparation and bei: ng in the nature of a private prosecution we've been waiting for you to earn your fee. “How’'ll you like that, eh?” Mr. Asche became discolored. “H'm!” he replied softly. ‘‘So that is it, is it? You won't have that excuse very long, even if you could get away with it now. I'll have a trial brief and affidavits from all the witnesses ready for you in forty-eight hours.” “All right old top! carelessly. “*We always strive to please! So Mr. Asche got busy, while the very se just nodded O'Brie n same day Mr. Hogan asked for and ob- tained another adjournment. Some people resemble animals; others have a geometrical aspect. In each class the similarity tends to indicate character. The fox-faced man is apt to be sly, the triancular man is likely to be a lump. So Mr. Asche, being rectilinear, was on the August 7,1920 square; just as Mr. Hogan, being soft and round, was slippery and hard to hold. Three days passed, during which Mrs. Mathusek grew haggard and desperate. She was saving at the rate of two dollars a day, and at that rate she would be able to buy Tony a trial in six weeks more. She had exhausted her possibilities as a bor- rower. The indictment slept in O’Brien’s tin file. Nebedy but Tony, his mother and Hogan remembered that there was any such case, except Mr. Asche, who one afternoon appeared une xpecte lly in the offices of Tutt & Tutt, the senior partner of which cele- brated law firm was advis ory counsel to the Tornado Casualty Company. “T just want you to look at these papers, Mr. Tutt,” Mr. Asche said, and his jaw looked squarer than ever. Mr. Tutt was reclining as usual in his swivel chair, his feet crossed upon the top of his ancient mahogany desk. ‘Take a stog!’’ he remarked without get- ting up, and indicating with the toe of one Congyress-booted foot the box which lay open adjacent to the Code of C riminal Procedure. ‘‘What’s your misery? “Hell’s at work!”’ returned ir. Asche, solemnly handing over a sheaf of affidavits. “T never smoke.” Mr. Tuit somewhat reluctantly altered his position from the horizontal to the vertical rome reached fora fresh stogy. Then his ey aught name of Raphael B. Hog: *“W hat the devil is this?” } the he cried. “It’s the devil himself!” answered Mr. Asche with sudden vehemence. “Tutt, Tutt! Come in here!” os outed ‘Mine enemy hath the head of the i ito mine hands!” bee n de W hat?’ “Hey? * inquired Tutt, popping across t cee y pane ““Who—I mean ‘Raphael B. Hogan!” ”" he devi AG ejaculated Tutt “You've said it! declared Mr. Asche devoutly. under cover of darkness Tutt descended from a dilapidated taxi at the corner adjacent to Froelich’s butel her shop, and several hours later was whisked uptown again to the brownstone dwe ui ing occupied by the Hon Simeon Watkir the venerable white- haired judge ther n n presiding i in Part I of the General Sessions, where he remained until what may be described either as a very late or a very early hour, and where during the final period of his intercourse he and that distinguished member of the judiciary mptied an ancient bottle containing a pene ing rose-colored liquid of great ar- tistic beau y. Then Mr. Tutt returned to his own library at the house on Twenty-third Street and paced up and down before the antiquated open grate, inhaling quantities of — Mr. Bonnie " Doon irreverently called “hay smoke, and pondering deeply upon the evils that men do to one another, until the dawn peered through the windows and he beth — him of the all-night lunch stand round the corner on Tenth Avenue, and there sought refreshment “*Salvatore,”’ he remarked to the smiling son of the olive groves who tended that bar of innocence, “the worst crook in the world is the man who does evil for mere money.” , Signor Tutti,” answered Salvatore with 1 atin perspicacity. ‘‘ You gotta one, eh? u giva him hell?” Si!” replied Mr. Tutt cheerily ‘Even so! And of a truth, moreover! Give me sane hot dog and a cup of bilge water!” That evening Mr. Ephraim “People versus Mathusek?” inquired Judge Watkins — hours later on the eall of the calendar, looking quite vaguely as if he had never heard of the case before, round Part I, which was as usual crowded, hot, stuffy and smelling of unwashed linen and prisoners’ lunch. ‘People versus Mathu- sek? What do you want done with this case, Mr. O’Brien?” “Ready!”" chanted the red-headed O’Brien, and, just as he had expected, the Hon. Raphael Hogan limbered up in his slow, genial way and said: “If Your Honor please, the defendant would like a few days longer to get his witnesses. Will Your Honor kindly adjourn the ease for one week?” He did not notice that the stenographer was taking down everything that he said. “T observe,” remarked Judge Watkins with apparent amiability, “that you have had five adjournments already. If The (Continued on Page 181)

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST

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(Continued from Page 178) People’s witnesses are here I am inclined to direct you to proceed. The defendant has been under indictment for six weeks. That ought to be long enough to prepare your defense.” “But, Your Honor,” returned Hogan with pathos, “the witnesses are very hard to find. They are working people. I have spent whole evenings chasing after them. Moreover, the defendant is perfectly satis- fied to have the case go over. He is anxious for an adjournment!” “When did you last see him?” “Yesterday afternoon.” The judge unfolded the papers and ap- peared to be reading them for the first time. He wasn’t such a bad old actor himself, for he had already learned from Mr. Tutt that Hogan had not been near Tony for three weeks. “Um-—um! Did you represent the de- fendant in the police court?” “Yes, Your Honor.” “Why did you waive examination?” Hogan suddenly felt a lump swelling in his pharynx. What in hell was it all about?, ‘“*T— er— there was no use in fighting the case there. I hoped the grand jury would throw it out,” he stammered. “Did anybody ask you to waive exam- ination?” The swelling in Hogan's fat neck grew larger. Suppose McGurk or Delany were trying to put something over on him! “No! Certainly not!’’ he replied un- convincingly. He didn’t want to make the wrong answer if he could help it. “You have an—associate, have you not? A Mr. Simpkins?” “Yes, Your Honor.”’ Hogan was pale now and little beads were gathering over his eyebrows. ““Where is he?” ‘Downstairs in the magistrate’s court.” “‘Officer,”” ordered the judge, “‘send for Mr. Simpkins. We will suspend until he can get here.” Then His Honor occupied himself with some papers, leaving Hogan standing alone at the bar trying to work out what it all meant. He began to wish he had never touched the damn case. Everybody in the courtroom seemed to be looking at him and whispering. He was most uncomfortable. Suppose that crooked cop had welshed on him! At the same instant in the back of the room a similar thought flashed through the mind of Delany. Suppose Hogan should welsh on him! Coincidentally both scoundrels turned sick at heart. Then came to each the simultaneous realization that neither could gain anything by giving the other away, and that the only thing pos- sible for either was to stand pat. No, they must hang together or assuredly hang separately. Then the door opened and a tall officer entered, followed by a very nervous Mr. Joey Simpkins. ‘‘“Come up here!” directed the judge. sir lt’? 1 . ri . sir! quavered the anxious Simpkins. **How much money have you taken from Mrs. Mathusek?”’ ‘““Four hundred and thirty-five dollars.”’ For what?” sharply. THE SATURDAY “For protecting her son.” “Where? How?” “Why—from his arrest to the present time—and for his defense here in General Sessions.” “Have either you or Mr. Hogan done anything as yet—except to waive examina- tion in the police court?” Mr. Simpkins turned hastily to Mr. Hogan, who realized that things were going badly. “Your Honor,” he interposed thickly, “this money was an agreed fee for my services as counsel. This examination seems to me somewhat uncalled for and unfair.” “Call Tony Mathusek to the bar!” sud denly ordered the judge. It was a dangerous play, but decided to bluff it through. “In view of the fact that I have not re- ceived my fee I shall refuse to appear for the defendant!”’ he announced brazenly. “‘Indeed!”’ retorted the judge with sar ecasm. “Then I will assign Mr. Ephraim Tutt to the defense. You two gentlemen will please sit down—but not leave the courtroom. We may need you.” At that moment, just as the defendant was led to the bar, Mr. Tutt emerged from behind the jury box and took his stand at Tony's side. Nothing much to look at be fore, the boy was less so now, with the prison pallor on his sunken little face. There was something about the thin neck, the half-open mouth and the gaunt, blinking, hollow eyes that suggested those of a helpless fledgling. “Impanel a jury!”’ continued the judge, and Mr. Tutt conducted Tony inside the rail and sat down beside him at the table reserved for the defendant. “Tt’s all right, Tony!" he whispered “The frame-up isn’t on you this time, my lad.” Cowering in the back of the room Delany tried to hide himself among the spectators. Some devilish thing had gone wrong. He hadn’t heard all that had passed between the judge and Hogan, but he had caught enough to perceive that the whole case had gone blooey. Judge Watkins was wise! He was going after Hogan just as old Tutt would go after him, Delany. There was a singing in his head and the blood smarted in his eyes. He'd better beat it! Half bent over he started sneaking for the door. “Who is that man trying to go out?” shouted the judge in terrifying tones that shook Delany to the ankles. Hastily he tried to sit down. “Bring that man to the bar!’ Half blind with fear Delany attempted to make a show of bravado and swagger to the rail. “What is your name?”’ “Delany. Officer attached to the Second Precinct.” ““What were you leaving the room for? Delany could not answer. His wits were befogged, his throat numb. He simply stared vacuously at Judge Watkins, his lips vibrating with fear. “Sit down. No; take the stand!” cried Judge Watkins. ‘‘I’ll try this case myself.” As if his foot were already attached to a ball and chain Delany dragged himself Hogan EVENING POST 181 The Appreciated Chocolates a ee FET thin tele die thnde dik eg ¢ ae ! i | Prk Gordon sport coats in glove 1 | ¢ ‘ leather add to on ut-of-door | Oats enjoyment — ready and fit for th f | - heep-lined, fabric, — activity you favor 4 MINNESOTA GORDON & FERGUSON 2 OPS SSS FF

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THE SATURDAY | COLLARS STYLE . ve FOLLOW © Troy, ARROW AND YOU THE FOLLOW THE Peabody ( | PB; P. iti O » « . a t » ermanent frosition pen | = How would YOU like | a part-time job that | pays $100.00 a week? ] i] | : - | Vhat’s exactly the sort of job that Mr: 1 Hiarvey Stofflet enjoys. While he was still | a student at the University of Michigan, he first realized the possibilitic s offered to a person who would spend a part of his time at active work in obtaining yearly sub scribers for The Saturday Evening Post, The Ladies’ Home Fournal and The Countr) Gentleman. Each periodical then, as now, Harvey Stofflet was a wonderful bargain at its price; the | demand tor them was unlimited; the oppor tunity look 1 too vood to miss o he wrote us about it. Mr. Stofflet ll finds time to spend a tew hours a day at this work—and his weekly wome tells the rest of the story. § Your opportunity is even greater than was his. Our three pudlications are bigger, better, more popular than ever And our commissions have been increased! You need no experience to begin earning immediate generous profits. To find out about if, use the coupon today! a oe oe oem oe ee Cut or tear here -— —--——----:--- The Curtis Publishing Company, 792 Independence Square, Philadelphia, Penna { ¢ PI tell me all about your spare time offer. At the right | ] mil } " y hours each week N Street low State | eleventh page | against the-defendant at all! EVENING POST up—up— hundreds of feet up, it seemed —to the witness chair. As if from a mountain side he saw dim forms moving into the jury box, heard the judge and Mr. Tutt ex- changing meaningless remarks. The faces before him grinned and gibbered at him like a horde of monkeys. They had got him at last—all for a few pieces of rotten beef! That lean, hungry wolfhound would tear his tongue out by the roots if he even opened his mouth; claw wide open his vitals. And old Tutt was fixing him with the eye of a basilisk and slowly turning him to stone. Somebody sure had welshed! He had once been in a side show at Coney Island where the room simulated the motion of an ocean steamer. The courtroom began to do the same— slanting this way and that and spin- ning obliquely round and round. Through the swirl of its gyrations he could see old Tutt’s vulture eyes, growing bigger, fiercer, more sinister every instant. It was all up with him! It was an execution, and the crowd down below were thirsting for his blood, waiting to tear him to bits! “You saw this boy throw a brick through Mr. Froelich’s window, didn’t you?” coaxed Judge Watkins insinuatingly. De- lany sensed that the old white fox was try- ing to trick him—get him for perjury. No! He wouldn't perjure himself again! No! But what could he do? His head swung stupidly, swaying like a dazed bull’s. The sweat poured from every pore in his vast bulk. A hoarse noise—like a death rattle came from his throat. The room dissolved in waves of white and black. Then in a vertigo he toppled forward and pitched headlong to the floor. Deacon Terry, star reporter for the Tribune, who happened to be there, told his city editor at noon that he had never passed such a pleasant morning. What he saw and heard really constituted, he al- leged, a great big full front-page story in a box—though it got only four sticks on the being crowded out by the armistice. Why, hesaid, it was the damned- est thing ever! There had been no evidence And after | the cop had collapsed Judge Watkins had | refused to dismiss the case and directed Mr. Tutt to go on in his own way. The proceeding had resolved itself into a criminal trial of Hogan and Simpkins. Tony’s good character had been established in three minutes, and then half a dozen reputable witnesses had testified that the brick had been thrown by an entirely dif- ferent boy. Finally, Sussman and his as- sistant both swore positively that Delany August 7,1920 had been in the back of the tobacco shop with his back to the door, holding them up for cigars, when the crash came. Terry wanted two columns; he almost cried when they cut his great big full-page story to: SHYSTERS ACCUSED OF EXTORTION A dramatic scene was enacted at the con- clusion of a minor case in Part I of the Gen- eral Sessions yesterday, when upon the motion of Ephraim Tutt, of the firm of Tutt & Tutt, Judge Simeon Watkins, sit- ting as a committing magistrate, held for the action of the grand jury Raphael B. Hogan and Joseph P. Simpkins, his assist- ant, for the crime of extortion, and directed that their case be referred to the Grievance Committee of the County Lawyers’ Asso- ciation for the necessary action for their disbarment. Earlier in the trial a police officer named Delany, the supposed chief witness for the prosecution, fainted and fell from the wit- ness chair. Upon his recovery he was then and there committed for perjury, in default of ten thousand dollars bail. It is under- stood that he has signified his willingness to turn state’s evidence, but that his offer has not been accepted. So far as can be ascer- tained this is the first time either Hogan or Simpkins has been accused of a criminal offense. District Attorney Peckham stated that in addition to separate indictments for extortion and perjury he would ask for an- other, charging all three defendants with the crime of conspiracy to obstruct the duc administration of the law. At the conclusion of the proceedings Judge Watkins permitted a voluntary col- lection to be taken up by Mr. Tutt on be- half of the accused among the jury, the court attendants and the spectators, which amounted to eleven hundred and eighty- nine dollars. In this connection the judge expressed the opinion that it was unfortu- nate that persons falsely accused of crime and unjustly imprisoned should have no financial redress other than by a special act of the legislature. The defendant in the case at bar had been locked up for six weeks. Among the contributions was found a new one-thousand-dollar bill. “Talk about crime!” quoth the Deacon savagely to Charlie Still, of the Sun. “That feckless fool at the city desk committed assault, mayhem and murder on that story of mine!” Then he added pensively: “If I thought old man Tutt would slip me a thousand to soothe my injured feelings I’d go down and retain his firm myself!”’ THE SATURDAY for advertising promotions and stock-s¢ IS fully protected by copyright. The use of our articles or quotations from them EVENING POST lling schemes is never authorized Table of SHORT ART Last Days and Death of the Ressian Em | Comping Income Schedules Postwar Conditions in World Finance The Wonders of Washington — George A Senator’s Story The Most Important Man in Europe As I Remember— Jefferson Winter DEPAR Editorials Everybody's Business Small -Town Stuff— Robert Quillen August 7, 1920 PAGE Wild Carrot— Hugh MacNair Kahler x Tutt and Mr. Tutt—Arthur Train 12 No’th Af‘ican Lloyds, Ltd.—W. A. P. John 16 | Maroon-Colored, With Wire Wheels— Grace Torrey 20 | SERIALS The Rose Dawn--Stewart Edward White 3 Deuce High— Helen Topping Miller 24 | It Pays to Smile Nina Wilcox Putnam 26 ICLES Forrest Crissey Floyd W. Parsons Contents STORIES peror and His Family —G.G. Tel/berg 6 James S. Alexander Kibbe Turner Cameron Mackenzie TMENTS —————e A Request for Change of Address must reach us at least thirty days before the date of the issue with which it is to take effect. replace those undelivered through failure to send such advance notice. give your old address as well as the new one. Duplicate copies cannot be sent to Be sure to

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 183 +" BEACON THERE ARE NO BETTER F.M.HOYT SHOE CO. Makers MANCHESTER NEW HAMPSHIRE iM APIS PE Oe FOR STYLE FOR WEAR FOR FIT C2 ae

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184 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST August 7,1920

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Years ago people were buying steaks and chops “cheap” and other meats in proportion. It is true that meat prices are higher today— and so is the price of live stock. But If present-day methods had been in use fifty years ago, meat would have cost our fathers and mothers and uncles and aunts even less than it did! Many parts of the animal were actually thrown away; the busi- ness was done in small unsanitary plants. As a matter of fact, meat was not cheap in the early days as compared with the price of live stock. See what U. S. Census figures show: In 1870 it took nearly 19 per cent of the value of meat products to Ko Be Patt DIRE | EE TEI TED. hl 4 j- TE % v7 | SSD ~ % a a Peale ATR Sty Mis <A Aa ia ' In “the good old days’— when meat was “cheap” cover the packer’s expenses and profits for turning animals into meat; thelatest Census shows that with modern methods it took less than 13 per cent of the value of meat products to perform this same service. This smaller relative “spread” be- tween live stock and meat prices is due to development of large scale operations and elimination of waste. It means that meats are cheaper today than they used to be, compared with the cost of raising live stock. Out of all receipts from the sale of animal products last year, Swift & Company paid out over 85 per cent forthe live animals. The other 15 per cent covered all plant, ship- ping, and selling expenses— and also the profit, which averaged only afraction of a cent per pound on all products sold. Swift & Company, U.S.A. Founaed 1868 A nation-wide organization owned by more than 35,000 shareholders S Ve RR if

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Go.cop a Qi: ae Q\ N, ot QV fe a) | | GINGER ALE igre oy ry. © Chey All Like It % A TURN of the paddle slides the light canoe beneath overhanging boughs, | ' out of the glare of summer sun. How ? ome pleasant now to share a bottle of Clicquot : $ : ~ Club Ginger Ale, mild and delicious. That mild, delicious, unchanging blend which is Clicquot is relished everywhere by all kinds of people. Every bottle looks and tastes the same. Ask your grocer or drug- gist to ship a case or two of Clicquot to cottage orhouse- boat, and make this year’s vacation the best ever. THE CLICQUOT CLUB COMPANY Millis, Mass., l').S. A

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Eastman Tf it isn't an tastman, wisnmta Kodak. KODAK as YOU 20 Kodak Company, Rochester, N. Y., /he Aodak City. —— owe y