The Saturday Evening Post 1920-10-09: Vol 193 Iss 15

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| THE SATURDAY | EVENING POST An Illustrated Week Paladin, Eatred a Soo Founded A?® D' x 72 § 6 y Be the Post Office at Philadelphia, Under the Act of March 3, 1879, OCTOBER 9,1920 (im -* Rn Q & e Irvin S.Cobb — Mary Brecht Pulver — Nina Wilcox Putnam George Pattullo — Helen Topping Miller — Samuel G. Blythe

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Copyright, 1920. The H of K OU’LL WANT to vote a straight value ticket for clothes this fall—for a clothes candidate with a record and a reputation. Clothes that help you win your way in the world —Kuppenheimer good Clothes — an investment in good appearance. The HOUSE of KUPPENHEIMER * CHICAGO Ese

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Yankee (plain dial) $2.50 Che lowest-priced Ingersoll Yankee Radiolite $3.50 Sturdy, accurate, reliable, good- th ! Ve looking— the watch for men ind boys who want to buy time lowest-priced Radiolit All the value of the Yankee p/u the ability to tell you the tim in the dark The 24-hour-a-day watch keeping service at lowest cost at a dollar extra. Canadian Maple Leaf $3.25) Canadian Maple Leaf Radiolite $4.00

Waterbury (plain dial) $5.50 The 12-size . weled Ingersoll Waterbury Radiolite $6.25 The Waterbury with Radiolit Choice ot “silver” face, as shown here, or of black face as on the Yankee Radiolite (above 12-size is the small, stylish size © much tn vogue le weled at ‘ dial--at 7<c extra the points of greatest friction Antique bow and crown In Canada $7 .0¢

Reliance $8.00 Vickel case) Reliance $11.50 l jewel Ingersoll. Eridge Gold-filled ca ' } Tt innest wv Back view of the Relian " jewel watch made in Amer 1to-year gold-filled case Just ica. Factory-tested in 6 pos one of th everal desig tions. Solid nickel case Nain gold if desired Front In Canada $0.25 view practically same as at left. (U.S.A. pricesinclude the tax In Canada $14.50) Illustrations seven-eighths actual size Have you got the rea dope on Ingersolls? | phe quite natural to assume that a line of watches distin- guished for sturdy, faithful performance under hard usage, and for the low price, would be a bit thick and clumsy in On the ground that “you can’t have everything”’ you would expect Ingersolls to look more lik« small alarm clocks than watches. size and appearance. That’s the logical reasoning. But when you look over the Ingersoll line you find your logic is all wrong. They’re not only the hardiest watches made—but they're as seemly and smart in You can have everything strongest and appearance as you could wish. when you buy an Ingersoll. Why even the Yankee— $2.s0— the lowest-priced Ingersoll, is really handsome. No thicker than watches that cost a whole lot more, with good lines and a dial that is simple and artistic. Then when you move up to the Waterbury at $5.50 you tind a small—twelve-size- jeweled watch of distinction and charm, still thinner than the Yankee and with refinements of finish and design that please the most critical eye. As for Reliance—“‘ the Ingersoll with a college education” he’s an aristocrat. Slim, bridge movement, Reliance is the kind you pull out of your pocket not only to tell time by, but to exhibit to your friends. Yet this suave, slender, patrician timepiece costs but $8.00 in nickel case, $11.50 in gold-filled. seven-jeweled, with There are many other Ingersolls—the Eclipse, a thin watch at $4.00; and its twin, the Eclipse Radiolite that tells time in the dark, price $4.75; the Midget Radiolite, $5.75, for women, a tiny “cutie” watch that appeals espe- cially to the feminine taste; the Wrist Radiolite at $6.25; and the Radiolite Two-in-One, $3.75, a Yankee Radiolit« in a case that makes it into a desk or bureau clock which, like all Radhiolites, All these Ingersolls possess the faithful, sturdy time-kee p “tells time in the dark”’. ing qualities that have made Ingersoll a synonym for accurate performance under all sorts of conditions, and all these Ingersolls also have the good looks, the pleasing appearance and the refinement which upset the logic that “you can’t have everything”. You get everything in an Ingersoll — and you get it for } less than seems possible. It 7s ause of huge possible be number of Ingersoll sales — s, ; watches a year, Get your Ingersoll today. ROBT. H New York Ch Sugorsol INGERSOLL & BRO. San Frar Montre

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST October 9, 1920

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Pul lished Weekly The Curtis Publishing Company Cyrus H. K. Curtis, President C. MH, Ludington, Vice-President and Treasurer P.S. Collins, General Business Maneger Walter D. Fuller, Secretory William Boyd, Advertising Direcior } Independence Square, Philadelphia London: 0, Henrietta Street Covent Garden, W. C | ad THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Founded A’D' 1728 4y Benj. Franklin Copyright, 1920, by the Curtis Publishing Company in the United States and Great Britain George Horace Lorimer EDITOR Churchill Williems, F. S. Bigelow, A.W. Neall, Arthur Mc Keogh, E. Dinsmore, Associate Editors Entered as Second-Class Matter, November tS, 1879, at the Post Office at Philedelphie, Under the Act of Merch 3, 1879 Additional Entry eas Second-Class Matter at Columbus, Ohio Entered as Second-Cless Matter at the Post-Office Department, Ottawa, Cenada 5c THE coPpYr * 10c. in Canada Volume 193 PHILADELPHIA, PA., OCTOBER 9, 1920 $2.50 THE YEAR by Subscription Number 15 hort N F EVER a person might be said to have dedicated his being to the pursuit of lei- sure, that selfsame was Red Hoss Shackle- ford, of color, and highly so. He was j one who specialized in the deft and fine high art of doing nothing at ] all. With him leisure was at once a | i calling to be followed regularly and an ideal to be fostered. But also j he loved to eat, and he had a fancy i for wearing gladsome gearings, and | these cravings occasionally inter- i fered with the practice of his fa- In order that he might enjoy long periods of manual inactivity it devolved upon him at intervals to devote his reluctant energies to gainful labor. When driven to it by necessity, which is said to be the mother of invention and which certainly is the full sister to appetite, Red Hoss worked. He just naturally had to—sometimes. You see, in the matter of being maintained vicariously he was less fortunately circumstanced than so many of his fellows in our town were, and still are. He had no min- istering parent doing cookery for the white folks, and by night, in accordance with a time-hallowed custom with which no sane house- keeperdared meddle, bringing home under a dolman cape loaded tin buckets and filled wicker baskets. Ginger Dismukes, now—to cite a conspicuous example— was one thus favored by the indulgent fates. Aunt Ca’line Dismukes, mother of the above, was as honest as the day was long; but when the eve- ning of that day came, such trifles, say, as part of a ham ora few left- over slices of cake fell to her as a legitimate if unadvertised salvage. Every time the quality in the big house had white meat for their din- ner, Ginger, down the alley, enjoyed drumsticks and warmed-up stuffing for his late supper. He might be like the tapeworm in that he rarely knew in ad- vance what he would have to eat, but still, like the tapeworm, he gratefully absorbed what was put before him and asked no questions of the benefactor. Without prior effort on his part he was fed even as the Prophet Elijah was fed by the ravens of old. This simile would acquire added strength if you’d ever seen Aunt Ca’line, her complexion being a crow’s-wing sable. Red Hoss had no dependable helpmate, such as Luther Maydew had, with a neatly lettered sign in her front window: GoING-OUT WASHING TAKEN IN HERE. Luther’s wife was Luther’s only visible means of support, yet Luther waxed fat fit? and shiny and larded the earth when he walked abroad. Neither had Red Hoss an indulgent and generous patron such as Judge Priest’s Jeff—Jeff. Poindex- ter—boasted in the person of his master. Neither was he gifted in the manipulation of the freckled bones as the late Smooth Crumbaugh had been; nor yet possessed he the skill of shadow boxing as that semiprofessional pugilist, Con Lake, possessed it. Con could lick any shadow that ever lived, and the punching bag that could stand up before his onslaughts was not manufactured yet; wherefore he figured in exhibition bouts and boxing benefits, and between these lived soft and easy. He enjoyed no such sinecure as fell to the lot of Uncle Zack Matthews, who waited on the white gentlemen’s poker game at the Richland House, thereby harvesting many tips and whose otherwise nimble mind became a perfect blank twice a year when he was summoned before the grand jury. Red Hoss did, indeed, have a sister, but the relations between them were strained since the day when Red Hoss’ funeral obsequies had been inopportunely interrupted by the sudden advent among the mourners of the supposedly deceased, he returning drippingly from the river which presumably had engulfed him. His unexpected and embarrassing reappearance had practically spoiled the service for his chief relative. She never had vorite vocation “‘Who's the Chief Booze Smuggter of This Out+« How'd That Barret Yonder Come to be Traveling Sicross Country With @ Soused Lion?"’ returr tural History By IRVIN S. COBB ILLUSTRATED Br RAY ROHN ceased to look for free pone bread and poke chops in that quarter. So when he had need to eat, or when his wardrobe required re plenishing, he worked at odd jobs; but not oftener. Ordinarils speaking, his heart was not in it at all. But at the time when this 4 narrative begins his heart was in it. One speaks figuratively here ir ' } forgiven Red Hoss for his failure to stay dead, and he long since had Z ? order likewise to speak literally. A romantic enterprise carried on ae by Red Hoss Shackleford through a period of months promised now a ~ delectable climax. As between him and one Melissa Grider an engage ment to join themselves together in the bonds of matrimony had beer arranged, Before he fell under Melissa’s spell Red Hoss had been regarded as one of the confirmed bachelors of the Plunkett's Hill younger set He had never noticeablh favored marriage and giving in marriage— es pecially giving himself in marriage It may have been—indeed the forked tongue of gossip so had it—that the fer vor of Red Hoss’ court ing, when once he did turn suitor, had been influenced by the fortui tous fact that Melissa ran as chambermaid on the steamboat Jessie B. The fact outstanding, ) though, was that Red Hoss, having ardently wooed, seemed now about to win. But Melissa, that comely and: comfortable person, remained practi (Cay cal even when most lo ing. The grandeur of Red Hoss’ dress-up clothes may have en tranced her, and certainly his conversationa brilliancy was altogether in his favor, but be yond the glamour of the present, Melissa had the vision to appraise the possibilities of th future. Before finally committing herself to the hymeneal venture she required it of her swain that he produce and place in her capable hands for safe-keeping, first, the money re quired to purchase the license; second, the amount of the fee for the officiating clergymar and third, cash sufficient to pay the expenses of a joint wedding journey to St. Louis an It was specified that the traveling must be conducted on a mutual basis, which woul require round-trip tickets for both of them. Melissa, before now, had heard of these one-sided bridal tours. If Red Hoss went anywhere to celebrate being married st meant to go along with him Altogether, under these headings, a computed aggregate of at least eighty dollars was needed. With his eyes set then on this financial goal, Red Hoss sought service in the marts of trade. Perhaps the unwonted eagerness he displayed in this regard may have been quickened by the prospect that the irksomeness of employment before mar riage would be made up to him after the event in a vacation more prolonged than any his free spirit had ever known. Still, that part of it is none of our affair. For our pur- poses it is sufficient to record that the campaign for funds had progressed to a point where practically fifty per cent of the total specified by his prudent inamorata already had been earned, collected and, in accordance with the compact, intrusted to the custodianship of one who was at once fiancée and trustee On a fine autumnal day Red Hoss made a beginning at the task of amassing the remaining half of the prenuptial sinking fund by accepting an assignment to deliver a

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4 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST milch cow, newly purchased by Mr. Dick Bell, to Mr. Bell’s dairy farm three miles from town on the Blandville Road. This was a form of toil all the more agreeable to Red Hoss—that is to say, if any form of toil whatsoever could be deemed agreeable to him—since cows when traveling from place to place are accustomed to move languidly By reason of this common sharing of an antipathy against undue haste, it was late afternoon before the herder and the herded reached the latter's future place of resice nce; when Red Hoss, returning alone, Just ahead of him, from out of the weed tangle hedging a gap in the cemetery fence, a half-grown rabbit hopped abroad. The cottontail rambled a few yards down the road, then erected itself on and with adolescent foolhardiness con- templated the scenery. In his hand Red Hoss still carried tick with which he had guided the steps of Mr. Bell's new cow. He flung his staff at the inviting mark now presented to him Whirling in its flight, it caught its target squarely across the neck, and the rabbit died so quickly it did not have time to squeak, and barely time to kick Now it is known of all men that luck of two widely different kinds resides in the left hind foot of a graveyard There is bad luck in it for the rabbit itself, seeing of its havi left hind foot, to and it was almost dusk came along past Lone Oak Cemetery its rear quarter the long hickory rabbit that the circurn begin with, ren ders life for that rabbit more peri lous even than is the life of a com- monplace rabbit tut there is abid stance i” a ing good luek in Poe: 4 mee it for the human who falls heir to the foot after the origina! possessor has passed away insure the maximum of fair fortune for the legatee, the rabbit while in the act of jumping over a sunken grave in the dark of the moon should be killed with a crooked stick which a dead man has carried; but no known record of a colored person hanging round sunken graves in the dark of the moon, the left hind foot of an authentic grave yard rabbit under stances is a charm of rare preciousne since there is slain any circum With murky twilight impending, it was not for Red Hoss Shackleford to linger for long in the vicinity of a bur ing ground. Already, in the gloaming, the white fence palings gleamed sp« trally and the shadows were thickening in the honeysuckle jungles beyond them Nor was it for him to think of eating the flesh of a graveyard rabbit, even though it be plump and youthful, a this one was Graveyard rabbits, when indubitably known to be such, decorate no Afro American skillet. Destiny has called - them higher than frying par Almost before the victim of his aim had twitched its valedictory twitch he was upon it. In his hand, ready for use, was his razor; not his shaving razor, but the razor he carried for social purpose He bent down, and with the blade made swift slashes right and left at a limber ankle joint, then rose again and was briskly upon his homeward way, leaving behind him the maimed carcass, a rumpled little heap, lying in the dust A dozen times before he reached his boarding house he fingered the furry talisman where it rested in the bottom of his hip por ket, and each touching of it conveyed to him added confidences in propitious auguries. Surely enough, on the very next day but one, events seemed organizing themselves with a view to justifying his anticipations. As a consequence of the illness of Tom Montjoy he was offered and accepted what promised to be for thetime being a lucrative position as Tom Montjoy’s the back end of one of Fowler & Givens’ ice wagons, The Eighteenth Amendment was not as yet an accomplished fact, though the dread menace of it hung that commonwealth which had within confines the largest total number of distilleries and bonded warehouses to be found in any state of this union. Ob- serving no hope of legislative relief, sundry local saloon keepers had failed to renew their licenses as these expired. But for every saloon which closed its doors it seemed there was a soda fountain set up to fizz and to spout; and the books of Fowler & Givens showed the name of a new customer to replace each vanished old one. So trade ran substitute on over Its its even course, and Red Hoss was retained temporarily to understudy, as it were, the invalid Montjoy. In an afternoon lull following the earlier rush of de- liveries Mr. Ham Givens came out to where Tallow Dick Evans, Bill Tilghman and Red Hoss reclined at ease in the lee of the ice factory's blank north wall and bade Red Hoss hook up one of the mules to the light single wagon and carry three of the hundred-pound blocks out to Biederman’s ex-corner saloon, now Biederman’s soft-drink and ice-cream emporium, at Ninth and Washington. “ Better let him take Blue Wing,” said Mr. Givens, ad- dressing Bill Tilghman, who by virtue of priority of serv- ice and a natural affinity for draft stock was stable boss for the firm. It was Bill Tilghman who once had delivered himself of the sage remark that “A mule an’ a nigger is 'zackly alike—'specially de mule.” “Can’t tek Blue Wing, Mist’ Givens,” answered Bill. “She done went up to Mist’ Gallowayses’ blacksmith shop to git herse’f some new shoes.” This pluralization of a familiar name was evidence on Bill Tilghman’s part of the estimation in which he held our leading farrier, Mr. P. J. Galloway. “All right, take one of the other mules then. But get a hustle on,” ordered Mr. Givens as he reéntered his office. “Dat bein’ de case, I reckin I'll tek dat white Frank mule,” said Red Hoss. “’Tain’t no use of him standin’ in de stall eatin’ his ole fool haid off jes’ ’cause Tom Montjoy is laid up.” “Boy,” said Bill Tilghman, “lissen! You ‘cept a word of frien’ship an’ warnin’ f'um somebody dat’s been kicked by more mules 'en whut you ever seen in yo’ whole life, an’ you let dat Frank mule stay right whar he is. You kin have yore choice of de Maud mule or de Maggie mule or Friday or January Thaw; but my edvice to you is, jes’ ’ —-~# His Resignation Had Been Accepted onthe Spot, and the Spot Was the Buige of His Left Jaw leave dat Frank mule be an’ don't pester him none.” “How come?” demanded Red Hoss. de strength to drive ary mule dey is.” “T ain’t sayin’ you ain’t,”’ stated Bill Tilghman. “A born ijiot could drive dat mule, so I jedge you mout mek out to qualify. "Tain’t de drivin’ of him—hit’s de hitchin’ up of him which I speaks of.” Tallow Dick put in, “ Hit’s dis way wid dat Frank: In his early chilehood somebody muster done somethin’ painful to dat mule's haid, an’ it seem lak it lef’ one ondurin’ sear in his mind. Anyway, f'um dat day hence- for’ard he ain't let nobody a-tall, let alone hit’s a plum’ stranger to him lak you is, go prankin’ round his haid. Ef you think a mule’s back end is his dangersome end you jes’ try to walk up to ole Frank face to face, ez nigger to mule, an’ try to hang de mule jewelry over his years. Da’s all, jes’ try it! Tom Montjoy is de onliest one which kin slip de bit in dat mule’s mouf, an’ de way he do it is to go into de nex’ stall an’ keep speakin’ soothin’ words to him, an’ put de bridle on him f'am behinehand of his shoulder lak. But when Tom Montjoy ain’t wukkin’, de Frank mule he ain’t wukkin’ neither any. Yassuh, Tom Montjoy is de sole one which dat Frank mule gives his confidences to, sech as dey is.” Red Hoss snorted his contempt for this warning. “T reckin I got October 9,1920 “Huh, de trouble wid dat mule is he’s pampered! You niggers done pamper him twell he think he owns dese whole ice-factory premises. Whut he need fur whut ails him is somebody which ain’t skeered of him. Me, I aims to go ’crost to dat stable barn over yonder ’crost de street an’ walk right in de same stall wid dat Frank same ez whut I would wid ary other mule, an’ ef he mek jes’ one pass at me I’m gwine up wid my fistes an’ give him somethin’ to brood over.” Bill Tilghman looked at Tallow Dick, looking at him sorrowfully, as though haunted by forebodings of an im- pending tragedy, and shook his head slowly from side to Tallow Dick returned the glance in kind, and then both of them gazed steadfastly at the vainglorious new hand. “Son, boy,” inquired old Bill softly, “whut is de name of yore mos’ favorite hymn?” “Whut my favorite hymn got to do wid it?” “Oh, nothin’, only I wuz jes’ studyin’. Settin’ yere, I got to thinkin’ dat mebbe dey wuz some purticular tune you might lak sung at de grave.” “An’ whilst you's tellin’ Unc’ Bill dat much, you mout also tell us whar "bouts in dis town you lives at?” added Tallow Dick. “You knows good an’ well whar I lives at,” snapped Red Hoss. “T thought mebbe you mout ’a’ moved,” said Tallow Dick mildly. ‘’Twouldn’t never do fur me an’ Bill yere to be totin’ de remains to de wrong address. Been my experience dat nothin’ ain’t mo’ onwelcome at a strange house ’en a daid nigger, especially one dat’s about six feet two inches long an’ all mussed up wid fresh mule tracks.” “Huh! You two ole fools is jes’ talkin’ to hear yo’se’fs talk,’ quoth Red Hoss. “All I axes you to do is jes’ set quiet yere, an’ in "bout six minutes f'um now you'll see me leadin’ a tamed-down white mule wid de britchin’ all on him outen through dem stable barn do’s.”’ “All right, honey, have it yo’ own way. you won't side. Ef hearken an’ you won’t heed, go ahaid!” stated Uncle Bill, with a wave of his hand. ‘You ain’t too young to die, even ef you is too ole to learn. Only I trust an’ prays dat you won’t be blamin’ nobody but yo’se’f "bout this time day after to-mor’ evenin’ w’en de sexton of Mount Zion Cullud Cemetery starts pattin’ you in de face wid a spade.” “Unce’ Bill, you said a moufful den,” added Tallow Dick. ‘“‘ De way I looks at it, dey ain’t no use handin’ out sense to a nigger ef he ain’t got no place to put it ‘Sides, things offentimes turns out fur de best; orphants leaves de fewest mourners. ted Hoss, an’ kindly give my re- guards to any frien’s of mine dat you meets up wid on ‘yother side of Jordan.” With another derisive grunt, Red Hoss rose from where he had been resting, angled to the opposite side of the street and disappeared within the stable. For perhaps ninety seconds after he was gone the remaining two sat in an attitude of silent waiting. Their air was that of a pair of black seers who likewise happen to be fatalists, and who having conscien- tiously discharged a duty of prophecy now await with calmness the fulfillment of what had been foretold. Then they heard, over there where Red Hoss had vanished, a curious muffled outcry. Asthey subsequently described it, this sound was neither shriek nor moan, neither oath nor prayer. They united in the declaration that it was more in the nature of a strangled squeak, as though a very large rat had suddenly been trodden beneath an even larger foot. However, for all its strangeness, they rightfully interpreted it to be an appeal for succor. Together they rose and ran across Water Street and into the stable. The Frank mule had snapped his tether and, freed, was backing himself out into the open. If a mule might be said to pick his teeth, here was a mule doing that very thing. Crumpled under the manger of the stall he just had quitted was a huddled shape. The rescuers drew it forth, and in the clear upon the earthen stable floor they stretched it. It was recognizable as the form of Red Hoss Shackleford. Red Hoss seemed numbed rather than unconscious. Afterward Bill Tilghman in recounting the affair claimed that Red Hoss, when discovered, was practically nude clear down to his shoes, which being of the variety known as congress gaiters had elastic uppers to hug the ankles. This snugness of fit, he thought, undoubtedly explained dese Good-by,

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( ' | 4 " U U 4 fl ? 1 1 oe fi why they had stayed on when all the rest of the victim’s costume came off. In his version, Tallow Dick averred he took advantage of the circumstance of Red Hoss’ being almost totally undressed to tally up bruise marks as counter-distinguished from tooth marks, and found one of the former for every two sets of the latter. From this disparity in the count, and lacking other evidence, he was bound to conclude that ‘considerable butting had been done before the biting started. However, these conclusions were to be ar- rived at later. For the moment the older men busied themselves with fanning Red Hoss and with sluicing a bucket of water over him. His first intelligible words upon partially reviving seemed at the moment of their utterance to have no direct bearing upon that which had just occurred. It was what he said next which, in the minds of the hearers, established the proper connection. “White folks suttinly is curious.’’ Such was his opening remark, following the waterapplication. “ An’ also, dey suttinly do git up some mighty curious laws.”” He paused a moment as though in a still slightly dazed contemplation of the statutory idiosyncrasies of the Caucasian, and then added the key words: ‘“‘F’rinstance, now, dey got a law dat you got to keep lions an’ tigers in a cage. Yassuh, da’s de law. Can't no circus go ’bout de country widout de lions an’ de tigers an’ de highyenas is lock’ up hard an’ fas’ in a cage.” Querulously his voice rose in a tone of wondering complaintfulness: ‘An’ yit dey delibert’ly lets a,man-eatin’ mule go ramblin’ round loose, wid nothin’ on him but a rope halter.” Across the prostrate form‘ of the speaker Bill Tilghman eyed Tallow Dick in the reminiscent manner of one striving to recall the exact words of a certain quotation and murmured, “‘ De trouble wid dat Frank mule is dat he’s pampered.” “Br’er Tilghman,” answered back Tallow Dick ¢ol- emnly, “you done said it—de mule is been pampered!" The sufferer stirred and blinked and sat up dizzily. “Uh-huh,” he assented. “An jes’ ez soon ez I gits some of my strength back ag’in, an’ some mo’ clothes on, I'm gwine tek de longes’, sharpes’ pitchfork dey is in dis yere stable an’ I’m gwine pamper dat devilish mule wid it fur "bout three-quarters of an hour stiddy.” But he didn’t. If he really cherished any such discip- linary designs he abandoned them next morning at sunup, when, limping slightly, he propped open the stable doors preparatory to invading its interior. The white demon, which appeared to have the facility of snapping his bonds whenever so inclined, came sidling out of the darkness toward him, a malignant and menacing apparition, with a glow of animosity in two deep-set eyes and with a pair of prehensile lips curled back to display more teeth than by rights an alligator should have. It was immediately evi- dent to Red Hoss that in the Frank mule’s mind a deep- seated aversion for him had been engendered. He had the feeling that potential ill health lurked in that neighbor- hood; that death and destruction, riding on a pale mule, might canter up at any moment. Personally, he decided to let bygones be bygones. He dropped the grudge as he tumbled backward through the stable doors and slammed them behind him. That same day he went to Mr. Ham Givens and announced his intention of immediately break- ing off his present associations with the firm. “Me, I is done quit foolin’ wid ole ice waggins,”’ he an- nounced airily after Mr. Givens had given him his time. “Hit seems lak my gift is fur machinery.” ** A pusson which wuz keer- ful wouldn’t trust you wid a shoe but- toner—dat’s . Ve how high I pallial reguards yore 4 3 gift fur ma- chinery,’’

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST commented Bill Tilghman acidky. Red Hoss chose to ig- nore the slur. Anyhow, at the moment he could put his tongue to no appropriate sentence of counter repartee. He continued as though there had been no interruption: “Yassuh, de nex’ time you two pore ole foot-an’- mouth teamsters sees me I'll come tearin’ by yere set- tin’ up on de boiler deck of a taxiscab. You better step lively to git out of de way fur me den.” “T ‘lows to do so,” assented Bill. ‘‘I ain't aimin’ togit shot wid no stray bullets.”

He Had the Feeting That Potential Itt Heatth Lurked in That Neighborhood “ How come stray bullets?” ‘* Anytime I sees you runnin’ a taxiscab I'll know by dat sign alone dat de sheriff an’ de man which owns de taxiscab will be right behine you—da’s whut I means.” “Don’t pay no ’tention to Une’ Bill,” put in Tallow Dick. ‘‘Whar you aim to git dis yere taxiscab, Red Hoss?” ‘“‘Mist’ Lee Farrell he’s done start up a regular taxiscab line,” expounded Red Hoss. ‘ He’s lookin’ fur some smart, spry cullid men ez drivers. Dat natchelly bars you two out, but it lets me in. Mist’ Lee Farrell he teach you de trade fust, an’ den he gives you three dollars a day, an’ you keeps all de tips you teks in. So it’s so long and fare you well to you mule lovers, ’ca’se Ise on my way to pick myre’ out my taxiscab.” “Be sure to pick yo'se’f out one which ain't been pam- pered,” was Bill Tilghman’s parting shot. ‘‘Nummine dat part,”’ retorted Red Hoss. “You jes’ remember dis after I’m gone: Mules’ niggers an’ niggers’ mules is "bout to go out of style in dis man’s town.” In a way of speaking, Red Hoss in his final taunt had the rights of it. Lumbering drays no longer runneled with their broad iron tires the red-graveled flanks of the levee leading down to the wharf boats. They had given way al- most altogether to bulksome motor trucks. Closed hacks still found places in funeral processions, but black chaser

( Ay Ca, oe

craft, gasoline driven and snorting furiously, met all in- coming trains and sped to all outgoing ones. Betimes, beholding as it were the handwriting on the wall, that en- terprising liveryman, Mr. Lee Farrell, had set up a garage and a service station on the site of his demolished stable, and now was the fleet commander of a whole squadron of these tin-armored destroyers. Under his tutelage Red Hoss proved a reasonably apt pupil. At the end of an apprenticeship covering a fort- night he matriculated into a regular driver, with a badge and a cap to prove it and a place on the night shift. Red Hoss felt impressive, and bore himself accordingly. He began taking sharp turns on two wheels. He took one such turn too many. On Friday night of his first week as a graduate chauffeur he steered his car headlong into a smash-up from which she emerged with a dished front wheel and a permanent Marcel wave in one fender. As he nursed the cripple back to the garage Red Hoss exercised an imagination which never yet had failed him, and fabri- cated an explanation so plausibly shaped and phrased as to absolve him of all blamefyl responsibility for the mishap, Mr. Farrell listened to and accepted this account of the accident with no more than a passing exhibition of natural irritation; but next morning when Attor- ney Sublette called, accompanied by an irate client with a claim for damages sus- tained to a market wagon, and bringing with him also the testimony of at least two disinterested eye-witnesses to prove upon whose shoulders the fault must rest, Mr. Farrell somewhat lost his customary air of sustained calm. Cursing softly un- der his breath, he settled on the spot with a cash compro- mise; and then calling the a offender to his presence, he T\<5 used strong and bitter words. “Look here, boy,” he pro- claimed, “I've let you off this time with a cussing, but next time any- thing happens toa car that you are driving you've got to come clean with me. It ain't to be expected that a lot of crazy darkies can go sky -hooting round this town driv- ing pot-metal omnibuses for me without one of them getting in a smash-up about every so often, and I'm carrying accident insurance and liability insurance to cover my risks; but next time you get into a jam I want you to come through with the absolute facts in the case, so's I'll know where I stand and how to protect myself in court or out of it. I don’t care two bits whose fault it is—your fault or some other lunatic’s fault. The truth is what I want—the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth,"so help you God. And He'll need to help you if I catch you lying again! Get me?” “Boss,”’ said Red Hoss fervently, “I gits you.” Two nights later the greater disaster befell. It was a thick, drizzly, muggy night, when the foreground of one’s perspective was blurred by the murk and when there just naturally was not any background at all. Down by the Richland House a strange white man wearing a hand- colored mustache and a tiger-claw watch charm hailed Red Hoss. This person desired to be carried entirely out of town, to the south yards of the P. T. & A. Railroad, where Powers Brothers’ Carnival Company was detraining from its cars with intent to pitch camp in the suburb of Me- chanicsville hard by and furnish the chief attractions for a three days’ street fair to be given under the auspices of the Mechanicsville lodge of Knights of Damon. After they had quit the paved streets, Red Hoss drove a bumpy course diagonally across many switch spurs, and obeying instructions from his fare brought safely up along- side a red-painted sleeping car which formed the head end of the show train where it stood on a siding. But starting back he decided to skirt alongside the track, where he hoped the going might be easier As he backed round and started off, directly in front of him he made out through the encompassing mists the dim flare of a gaso- line torch, and he heard a voice uplifted in pleading: “Come on, Lena! Come on, Baby Doll! Come on out of that, you Queenie!” Seemingly an unseen white man was ur- ging certain of his lady friends to quit some mysterious in- ner retreat and join him where

(Continued on Page 145)

Red Hoss Was Not Exactly Gone, But He Certainty Was Going. A Man on Horseback Might Have Overtaken Him

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST October 9,1920 ORTUNATELY for the average man's peace of mind, he never discerns a crisis until it is about to whelm him. Otherwise even the marvelous resiliency of human nature would succumb and life be nothing but a nightmare of fears. To-day millions of the English are flocking to.the seaside and race meets, to river resorts, to the weet, quiet countryside, the par! ind 'Amstead ‘Kath, to celebrate bank holiday. They are heartily cuseing the rain clouds, but the blacker clouds Those rhey did the same thing mMmaseing over the empire give them small concern ire the business of government in August, 1914 it is their way, and the way of mankind the world over, Yet not since the breathless days of the second quarte: of 1918 has their earth-girdling power stood in such peri! As this is written Arabs are in revolt in Mesopotamia isn't it amazing how ungrateful the native populatior often are against mandates undertaken for their own good ?— Ireland is aflame with civil war, and Sinn Fein i killing British officials while conducting a government of its own; disaffection is so widespread in India, Egypt and parts of Africa that the London press throws out solemn warnings of new rebellions brewing; thoughtful men are predicting a social upheaval in England itself when unen ployme nd hard times arrive this winter, as they are expected to do; and Bolshevistic ideas have infected the lower ‘ lasses Were any other nation beset by such internal and ex ternal difficulties it would be a two-to-one bet it could not surmount them. The far-flung, loosely held empire has seldom faced graver menace, and its plight seems almost to justify Bernard Shaw's warning in his Peace Conference Hints: .““ The old lion triumphant on the crest of the mountain. But the crest of the mountai also the brink of the abys An Amazing Recovery TET in my opinion the old lion would stand a deal of shoving These British have been weathering storms fora thousand years and nobody who knows them would be inclined to wager a shilling against their chances of winning through. Should they fail, the vast structure built up by centuries of patient toil, farsighted diplomacy and prodigal outpouring of treasure will bring down in its crash the whole structure of European civilization, for Great Britain is the keystone of it. What that might mean to America is worth sitting up nights to think over Confidence in the outcome is inspired by their amazing recovery from the death grapple with Germany of the stupendous achievements of history. Knowing well what the effort had cost them, their sacri- fices and losses in men and money, and with full appreciation of the derangement military demands had necessitated in the industrial machine, I was prepared to find a Britain still dazed and weak, groping its way back to normal It is one Awaiting the Release of Hunger:Strikers By George Pattullo Another heartening symptom to the British is the lead they have regained in shipbuilding. It was lost tempo Instead I found a country pulsing with vigor, whose tides of life appeared to be flowing with all the strength of yore Consider the condition of their trade the drain of war which must be made good; but that the country should be able to export in excess of two hundred million pounds more than in 1914 is truly remarkable, even allowing for the part the high prices of every com- modity have played in swelling the total “The gross national debt,” said Mr. Austen Chamberlain, Chancellor of the ixchequer, in the middle of July, “in- stead of growing larger and larger, has been reduced by two hundred million pounds. We have passed the peak of our national difficulties and obliga- tions.”” And Mr. Kellaway, Minister in Charge of the Overseas Trade Department, said at Glas- gow: “Whatever the burdens thrown upon British industry by the necessity of paying for the war, I think you will agree there is no other country —not even the United States of Amer- ica or Japan—with which we would care to change places, or where the permanent factors which make for stable prosperity are more in evidence.” Company booms are not an unmixed bless- ing, since they contribute to inflation and financial setbacks, but they are generally a barometer of a country’s optimism; and during irresistible From January to December, 1914, general imports amounted to 696,635,113 pounds sterling and exports to 526,195,523 pounds. Last year the imports totaled 1,140,502,041 pounds and the exports 738,299,807 pounds The heavy increase in imports is easily understood in view of the first six months of 1920 more than six thousand new companies were registered with a capital of 448,- 738,000 pounds. That is round two billions of dollars Where on earth does the money come from? rarily to the United States, and they looked askance at our 2,254,854 tons; RY CENTRAL NEWS PHOTO. SER new y How London's Fair Sex Beat the Railway Strike ambitious program, for Britain regards supremacy of navy and merchant marine as vital to her security. At the end of March last year the United States had ships under cor struction amounting to 4,185,533 tons, whereas the United Kingdom was building at the same time onl) but Britain has now forged ahead. At the end of June this year she was building 3,578,153 tons gross, as against 2,105,956 tons in American yards. Since March, however, there has been a heavy cancella- tion of orders, amounting to 1,200,000 tons, and as Mr. Archibald Hurd points out, the British advantage may be only temporary and due to the fact that the United States has caught up with her orders. Just Beginning “QHIPBUILDING in America has been car- ried on more swiftly than in this country, with the result that American yards have for the moment less tonnage in hand. The remarkable facts which emerge from a study of the tables are that six years ago the United States possessed only two million tons of seagoing merchant ships, and to-day she owns 12,500,000. “The contest for sea power between the twogreat branches of the English- speaking peoples,”’ he adds, “is only just begitining.” On top of industrial and trade revival comes an in- creased birth rate to help repair the ravages of war. London.set a record in 1919; that the ratio will be sus- tained seems probable, for

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST the year preduced a marriage boom as well. They had nearly twelve thousand more births than in 1918, almost eight thou- sand more marriages, and six- teen thousand fewer deaths. The infant mortality was the lowest ever known. Despite these stimulating achievements, signs are not wanting that lean times lie ahead, and conservative Eng- lishmen are indulging in their favorite pastime of viewing with alarm. Trade in June received a setback, with a falling off in exports and an increase of im- ports, but it was really nothing to worry over and not compara- ble to the slump in the United States during the same period. Manchester, Liverpool and Glas- gow have experienced a slight setback, and Sheffield reports that within four months a record boom has given place to a record drop. “On every hand one hears of is a third cause. There is al ways a period between the ere tion of new machinery and its full and profitable use.” Demobilization of more than four million soldiers presented problems which seemed to threaten serious complications But once again the steadines and dependability of British character solved the difficulties Only about five per cent were claiming the unemployment do nations at the end of April; all the rest had returned to their prewar jobs or been absorbed in other fields of labor. The out of-work donations caused many men to refuse jobs except at high pay. If they could not se- cure the sort of job they wanted, why work? They could draw twenty-nine shillings a week, and upward, from the govern- ment for doing nothing People Better Off canceled contracts and a cessa- tion of buying. To make mat- ters worse, iron and steel are entering the United Kingdom from the Continent and America at considerably lower prices than Sheffield can quote.” But these symptoms may be nothing more serious than the usual summer apathy England’s Old Coal Markets T WOULD also appear that American manufacturers threaten to capture the automobile and tire markets of Great Britain. So large have been American sales that a section of the London press is clamoring to have the gov- ernment put a stop to dumping and give protection to British industry against unfair competition. The use of these terms struck a note so reminiscent of our own high- tariff windjammers that I was moved to track down the unfairness. My investigations led to the discovery that it consisted of underselling the British makers. A situation of acute concern to John Bull is the loss of some of his overseas coal markets. Until 1913 he was coal merchant to the world, but to-day his exports are 52,000,000 tons below that year’s total. The United States can ap- parently sell coal cheaper, and is capturing business. It may be of interest to American consumers to learn this, to PHOTO. FROM UNDERWOOD & UNDERWOOD, NEW YORK CITY Girt Sympathizers Asking for Prayers for Hunger:Strikers know that production costs of American coal are lower than the British and that American exporters can under- sell British coal on the Continent. They have even invaded the Egyptian market. Now the British mercantile marine has been built up largely by coal exports, and the present stagnation results in hundreds of ships lying idle in Northern and Southern Wales ports. In consequence strenuous efforts are being made to increase production, for deficiency in output is partly responsible. With five thousand Cardiff dockers and railway men out of work, Birmingham’s unemployed increasing in two weeks from 487 to 5681, and thousands idle in Nottingham, the prophets predict that the era of prosperity has passed its peak and the country is now on the down grade. But there were fewer than 288,000 unemployed in the country in June, a much better showing than in May. Sir William Beveridge, director of the London Schoo] of Economies, can see difficult years ahead. “Eight to nine per cent of unemployed during a period of three to four years,” he said. “The present period of decreasing trade is chiefly due to the inflation of credit Heavy taxation is another obvious cause, but in my opinion is secondary. The installation of new machinery SPE RO A eH ee ae et reine ton EVERTHELESS, by the end of July the number of ex-service men in receipt of the dole had been cut to sixty thousand. It was to cease on that date, but what might happen with sixty thousand men who were entitled to the country’s gratitude, out of jobs and penniless, caused reconsideration; and the time limit has been extended. A movement is now on foot to combine the various soldier organizations in one body, somewhat along the lines of the American Legion. Thi had never been done, and the prospect frightens official dom, for they anticipate development of such an organiza tion into a political machine Having lived in England in 1904-05, I was in a position to estimate progress by contrast between then and now The war has made two important changes for the better in the condition of the working classes and the status of women The masses of the people look far better clothed than formerly — better nourished, too, and keener. There is not the same utter absence of hope in the appearance of the human rivers pouring daily along the streets of London Liverpool, Manchester and Birmingham. In the old days you could search the world in vain for anything toapproach in elegance and physical well-being the sartorial gems that gladdened the eye in Piccadilly and the West End. But to (Continued on Page 122) 7 - a PHOTO. FROM UNDERWOOD & UNDERWOOD, NEW YORK CITY Ain Attack on the Police Outside Westminster Abbey

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3 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST By Mary Brecht Pulver ALN AM irritatedly con- ] scious in setting down the first words of my tory that it is the story of a fool. This naturally detracts from my smug peace of mind—that bland confidence in the validity of a tale that needs telling with which the writer should attach a new piece of work. I am not at all sure that Annie Carey needs tell ing—that she ought to be told. Yet I am so goaded Only this afternoon a woman stopped me at a fashionable reception. She took two pieces of paper from her hand bag. “I just want to show you the verses my ten- year-old Rosemary wrote,”’ she beamed. “I sent them to an editor right off. Every bit as good as The Young Visi- ters, don’t you think?” They weren't bad for a ten-year-old. Not verses, not poetry—the imaginative gropings of a nice average little mind; but the mother love, the ecstatic pride under the samart hat, brought in stantly to my mind an other child. I thought of Annie Carey sitting on the back stairs of her dwelling house, scribbling her surreptitious bits of scribble, brooding over them, dreaming over them, hiding them away—a shadowy scrap of flesh overpowered by the Victorian complex | drove her out of my mind. But she sprang up again at the Gard- ners’ literary afternoon There was a young female littérateur pres- ent—the lioness of the moment —and a group of ladies buzzed about her respectfully pressing her hand. She had had a little volume of poetic impressions published lately. She read some of ittous. Not bad. Not verse, not poetry — just the imagi native gropings of a young rather unrestrained mind. Being a very youthful work, it was frankly physiological in its eferences, a hangover, I suppose, of the juvenile tendency to dwell on the manifestations of the body “She’s wonderful-—that Cecile Atwater,” a neighbor sighed. “I wish my Mabel But she’s all prose. She’s doing domestic science. Mrs. Atwater’s so proud. Oh, yes, the Syracuse Atwaters. But Cecile’s been in New York so long she's entirely different. Her family didn’t understand her. And she’s had to live her own life. She’s been down there for over two years.” She was not Syracusan. ' spoke to her afterward. A young person with bobbed medieval hair, a lettuce-green silk chemise over a brick-colored satin skirt, a lot of Benvenuto Cellini jewelry. She had a black pottery ring on one thumb. “How do you like my stuff?" she asked. “Some people tink I'm like Amy Lowell, but everybody has his own style. I think mine’s— well—freer than any of the modern a hool.,’ I murmured something appropriate, but I thought of someone else “No, I will not,” | said sternly. ‘‘ You go way back and sit down, Annie Carey. You don’t belong in this crowd.” But the book last evening was the last straw. A story that concerned a young ex-waif who had at twenty con- quered New York A cryptic moon-dim young person Y “I Don't See Why the Glen Isn't Big Enough for Two."" And She Added Impetuousty: “I've Never Known Anyone Who Wrote in All My Life" with her pearl droppings of distillate wisdom and a gallery of admiring elderly savants to gather them as they fell. How well young people do themselves to-day. Once more that unconquerable concept of Annie Carey arose. She stood up beckoning across the years—an inconsequential creature with a pale face and wistful eyes. ‘Tell me,” she whispered; ‘write me.’ “Curse you, Annie,” I answered back crossly; “they won't want you. You're a futile thing at best—as inter- esting as boiled cabbage. But if I must, I must.” It is, as I say, the story of a fool. It is unlikely you will care for it at all. But such as it is - I ER great folly—shared, I believe, by the insane—was a sad inability to distinguish her reality from her wish. She was eight years old when she showed this first. ; “Children,” said her teacher one afternoon, “‘ your writ- ing exercise to-day will be a description called My Father. Tell us about your father, what he is like and what you think of him.” A great silence fell while an entire grade curled its collective tongue into the corner of its collective mouth and, with contorted finger curled about its collective pencil, wrote painfully and painstakingly. With one exception. ILLUSTRATED Br October 9,1920 ARTHUR D. FULLER Annie Carey sat very still, her face puzzled, a little scared at first. There was a big but- tonwood outside the nearest window, coming into first leaf now—a lovely spidery silhouette of blurred fuzzy yellow- green. Annie Carey stared into it; then her eyes softened, her face relaxed. She bent and wrote busily, and she wrote like one who is ac- customed to writing. She was finished first of all. “You may read what you have written, Annie Carey.” This is what she had written: MY FARTHER My farther is allways kind and loveing. I run to mete him and kiss him and he gives me a penny everey day. how is my little girl he says. he takes my hand and we take walks. My farther knows about everey thing he is the smartest man in the world he is quite old but does not show it. on Sunday he has a blew neckty with little gold commas in it. his eyes are the same col- lar with little gold spots only not commas. His hair is soft like silk when I stroak it I love my farther and my farther loves me. A detestable and un- washed lad named Per- kins, here waving his hand, captured attention. “It’s a lie,” he said coarsely; ‘‘she’s written alie. She doesn’t run to meet her father. She runs away and hides from him. I’ve seen her.” Annie Carey burst into tears. “You are very rude, Freddy; and you must apologize at once. Tell Annie Carey you are sorry or I shall have to punish you.” Under compulsion the Perkins cast his mere- tricious repentance at Annie Carey’s feet. She received it with a pale, forgiving dignity. But the truth is she had wept not because of the loathly insult contained in his phrase but because of its inexpugnable truth. The only true thing she had written concerned the necktie with the commas in it. His name was Professor Nicholas White, and the thing he professed was ar authoritative knowledge of the de- velopment of the child. Annie Carey’s mother called him an educator in speaking of him before company. In this capacity he wrote treatises and essays, which he mem- orized and delivered before pedagogical institutes or small Chautauqua meetings. He got them off very well on these occasions—fluently and easily, with unstudied gestures, whose price only Annie Carey and her mother—who paid it—fully realized, fluency and ease of gesture not being natural concomitants of the professor. He was a tall, heavily set man of leonine type, with a ruddy face, reddish hair worn slightly long and an invariable frock coat whose tail swished when he walked. The great era of child study was only coming in, and the professor was rather firmly against it. Discipline was his gospel. Discipline—for children. When he approached on the street Annie Carey was probably not the only child whose impulse it was to flee and hide. The difference lay in her necessity to yield. You could never tell when the professor, having come home to prepare a new Chautauqua lecture, might be in a dark mood—so dark indeed as to = = — Pad

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cast an actual palpable aura about him as he approached. When he was at home Annie Carey always slipped ef- facingly through the side door and made herself as small as possible in an inconspicuous corner. But when the speech had been finished and memorized and the professor had departed to deliver it, things got rather better. Her mother—an ineffectually placative and anxious person in the professor’s presence—came into form. She indulged her penchant for lying down, for visiting with neighbors, and the house, under the easy supervision of a chocolate-colored hired girl, sank into a pleasant, unexacting routine. Not too much cooking or sweeping was done. Both these facts—a system of irregular haphazard feeding and unaired stale halls and rooms—rather affected Annie’s physique. She was small and thin and pale. During the winters she knew a suc- cession of heavy colds and childish ailments. She was also shockingly shy, and in the matter of public contact showed off very poorly as the daughter of a man of easy fluency, graceful gesture. She was frankly a disap- pointment to the professor—obscure and unnoticeable. You must not suppose that the professor bore his disap- pointment without a struggle. If Providence had dowered his child with no claims to the eye, there was at least the realm of the mind, with whose minutie he was proficient and in which he might aptly guide her youthful feet. He took occasion, therefore, to give her much homily and admonition and, when the occasional mood struck him, some personal supervision in her progress. Two episodes that occurred in her young childhood will illustrate his technic. I shall call them The Episode of the Ebony Ruler and The Episode of the Paper Pad. The ebony ruler lay on the professor’s writing table in his upstairs study. It was a stout flat bar, rather heavy to the hand even in casual use. One evening the professor called Annie to him and told her to write some words. Though she deeply admired her father, Annie Carey went in fear and trembling, but docilely enough she performed with cold hand and quivering wrist the task he had set her. “You will write a good hand, I can see that, Annie Carey; but what is the matter? You have not crossed any of your ‘t’s.’”’ Annie Carey knew it and shook in her shoes. ‘I—forgot,”’ she faltered. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ” Now the cross on the ‘‘t’’as Annie Carey performed it was as cross as possible. It was her béte noire, the marring touch to her handwriting, an error she had had corrected in the past but could not master. She gulped now and crossed the first one. “Bad!” fumed the professor; ‘‘as bad as possible. Try another.” The second was even worse, and the third looked like a tipsy sailor. The professor cleared his throat with a harsh, tearing note. “‘T see that you are not trying—you are merely trifling with me.” Now this was not exactly true. She had never been more in earnest, but the trouble was she no longer saw single ‘‘t’s."’ They were in doubles and triples, and with each effort to cap one with a horizontal line her aim grew worse. ““Come,”’ said the professor grimly, “I would not be- lieve it possible that anyone could be so careless and inat- tentive. Now—try again. Careful—careful. Straight this time—straight, I say!’ Annie Carey made the worst one yet, and the professor picked up the ruler. “Now,” he said, “I see that you and I will have to have an understanding. This thing cannot go on. You can do it perfectly well if you try. You will make a ‘t’ for me now and cross it. And you will cross it straight, you under- stand. Begin right now—now!” Annie Carey's hand did not move. Some queer cool paralysis seemed to have seized her. “‘T can’t—do it,”” she whispered. “You can and will,” the professor said firmly. “ Begin.’’ Then as Annie Carey still stood passive: ‘‘ You will make the ‘t’ of your own volition or I shal] compel you— you may take your choice.” The professor looked at her weighingly. He crowded six feet closely. Annie Carey was a bit over three. De- spairingly she chose her volition. Fifteen minutes later, undressed and in bed, Annie Carey lay with long, dry, tearless sobs running over her slight body like ripples over lake water. Her hands she had thrust under the pillow. The cool muslin cover felt healing against the puffed and swollen palms. But her sobs were not for the pain in her smitten hands. The matter of the paper pad was a thing of somewhat later date. There came a day, when Annie Carey was twelve years old, when she struck a paper famine. She had been ac customed to using scraps of wrapping paper, old notebooks for her eternal scribbling, but on a day these failed her and, following Blanche and her indifferent duster into the pro fessor’s study, she suffered a terrible temptation. It lay on the desk, a half-used pad of buff paper, the sort on which the professor wrote out his treatises. His desk was sacred, but in a moment of folly Annie Carey found herself fingering the thing. Any craftsman—maker of words or pictures— whose fingers are temporarily deprived of material will appreciate the curious driving impulse by which the professor was bereft of the yellow pad, by which it was presently convoyed under Annie Carey’s arm to the back stairs, to become an accessory after the fact in cer tain criminal operations. But the professor was not lightly to be rifled. He roared like the Great Big Bear after Goldilocks’ visit “Someone,” cried the professor, “has been at my desk and has taken my yellow pad.” By the processes of deduction, elimination and reductio ad absurdum, Annie Carey was discovered as the criminal She was sent to the study “And why,” asked her father after an interval of burn ing and bitter eloquence —‘‘why did you feel it necessary to help yourself to paper not your own, to steal, in short? Why did you take my pad?” “To—to write a story,’ confessed Annie Carey as she stood toeing in and twisting her skirt into gingham handles “To write a story,”” the professor repeated with patient sarcasm. “Go and get me the story.” Annie Carey started in horror. Two scarlet <pots sprang into her cheeks. Nobody ever read her outpourings, and now she had a shy and hideous sense of violation, of sacrilege. But you couldn't argue with the professor. She brought the yellow pad. “Read,” he commanded. “It’s—a poem. The first page,’ stammered Annie Carey, stalling a little ““What have you called it?” “My—my Sw-sweetheart.”’ (Continued on Page 66)

Well, There Was the Little Boy. He Would Grow Up and Do the Things She Wanted to Do, Carry Things Farther

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10 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST tanding in front of the elevators on the ground floor of a big New York. He was evidently a little afraid to ask questions of the HEN I first saw him he wa office building on lower Broadway, elevator starter, a large, impatient-appearing person. He was trying to puzzle out for himself just what it meant should be locals, while other to remote upper floors. that some of the elevator were expresses At last he picked out one of the elevators that appeared to suit his purpose and stepped in. Ile was squeezed close up to me on our trip to the eighteenth floor, and I had a chance to take a good look at him. He was a short man, about thirty-five, evidently from a small town, wearing hi best suit, which did not fit very well, a factory-tied necktie and a large felt hat This hat gave him a great deal of trouble on the trip upward, There were a couple of ladies in the elevator, and directly he saw them he pulled it off. Immediately omething out of the way, because He started to put the hat on again, but paused in the ac he saw that he had don none of the other men had removed their evidentl) unable to make up his mind to anything quite so ungallant Finally he compromised by pretending that he was very warm; he held the hat in one hand while with the other he got out his handkerchief and mopped his head earnestly This subterfuge served him until he got off at the eight eenth floor, still puzzled at the New York code which decrees that a man shall remove his hat in a hotel elevator with ladies uptown, but shall keep it on when he meets the in a business elevator downtown took me into the office of the big wholesale concern which occupies the entire eighteent! same ladies A little later my busines There I saw him again. He I was to floor of the office building was talking with the credit manager of the firm something like Walker, and learn later that his name wa that he was a merchant from a small town in Georgia To an ordinary observer Walker did not look like one who would inspire a great deal of enthusiasm in a credit man. He appeared undeniably countrified as he sat on the edge of his chair in an awkward way, holding the big felt hat in his lap ally sucked his teeth in a loud manner l'e was using a toothpick and occasion When he spoke he used the English language rather unfairly The credit man to whom Walker was talking I knew for one of the best in New York City. He has methods all his own in deciding on whom to trust. He does not go much on stereotyped reports, or even on the applicant’s financial worth. He prefers to sit down for a long pleasant talk with an applicant for credit, and makes up his mind from the applicant's conversation rather than from financial figures. The Credit Man's Eccentric Methods SHE credit man was evidently pursuing his favorite tac tics on Mr. Walker of Georgia. That gentleman very likely did not even know he was being interviewed from a credit standpoint, Several times I saw him re ch into his inside pocket and start to pull out some sheets of paper, but each time the credit man waved the papers back into his visitor’s pocket and went on talking about subjects far removed from business “Never mind the figures now,” he would say. “We'll go to lunch after a while and then you can show them to me.” It really did seem a funny way for a credit man to work, right out in the middle of the big office where everyone could hear the conversation, instead of making it a secret session behind closed doors, I heard the credit manager ask the man from Georgia what he thought about the price of cotton, how he liked New York and if he believed the Washington team would ever win a pennant. Then the conversation got round to automobiles. I saw the credit man lean forward smilingly to ask another question. By J. R. SPRAGUE “What kind of car do you run?” he said in an inter- ested way. The small-town merchant appeared a little embarrassed as he answered, shifting one foot over the other uneasily. “Well, to tell the truth,” he confessed, “I don’t run any car at all. I used to have one, but I sold it two years ago I had to buy a lot of my goods on credit, and I figured that I had no right to have a pleasure car so long as I owed money to people.” That was about all I heard of the conversation. A little later | saw the pair going out to lunch together, already friends. Just as the elevator started on its downward trip the credit man glanced quickly at his companion, who was again having trouble to decide what to do with his hat on Immediately the New Yorker removed his own headgear, and the small-town man followed suit, glad that he could obey his natural in- when I went into business account of the presence of a lady. clinations without appearing eccentric. As the elevator dropped out of sight I turned to the de- partment head with whom I was transacting my own busi- ness and asked if the credit man was attending to profes- sional duties, or merely entertaining a friend from the country. The department head laughed. “Elliot is a wonder as a credit man,”’ he answered. “Out of more than eight million dollars’ worth of business last year we had credit losses of less than two thousand dollars. “Did you notice how he sat with that fellow out in the middle of the office and talked?” he continued. “That isa part of his game. When he gets back from taking him to lunch he will come round to each of us and ask us what kind of impression we formed about the man. In the end he always acts on his own judgment, but he is influenced by what we say.” The department head laughed again at the recollection of the scene ‘You heard him ask the man what kind of car he runs. That is Elliot’s test question. Some time or other during every interview he invariably puts that question to the man who is applying for credit.” Later on I heard the story of Mr. Walker from Georgia, and how he had come out in his dealings with Elliot, the credit man. Walker had come to New York to try to get himself out of a bad situation that he was in. His inter- view with the credit man spelled success or failure for his business down in Georgia In almost every small Southern town the business is dominated by one big concern which supplies the com- munity with most of its wants. If the town is of any size there will, of course, be other retail stores, but the big con- cern dominates. &ts salesroom occupies nearly all of one side of the wagon square; it owns a controlling interest in the bank, the hotel and the leading garage. The big store is a social center too. Country families for miles round make it their headquarters when in town, debarking there when they arrive and mobilizing there when ready to make the trip home. Walker, it seems, had worked for the big store in his home town, starting when he was fifteen and continuing for nearly twenty years. Before he was thirty he had been made store manager at the almost unheard-of salary for the town of two hundred dollars a month. He owned his own home and had money out at interest; he had a car, and on Sunday afternoons drove his wife and two children round the country along with other substantial citizens of the community. The town grew and prospered as most Southern towns do. Walker tried to buy an interest in his firm, but the stock was paying nearly twenty per cent in dividends, and October 9,1920 none of the owners would part with any of their hold- ings. Walker and his wife figured things over every night for nearly a year, and finally came to the conclu- sion that he would start in business for himself. When Walker announced his decision to his firm they offered to let him buy some stock if he would stay, but it was too late. He had already rented quarters on the other side of the square and made his plans for opening up. He had called in all his money which was out at interest, and even sold his car so as to have that much extra money to put in the business. There had, it seems, been a little family jar when Walker told his wife that they ought to sell their automobile. She argued that their social position would suffer from not having a car, and that the children enjoyed it so much sitting on the back seat with the dog it would be a shame to take the pleasure away from them. Business Was Too Good UT Walker felt that he must be firm. He pointed out that the upkeep and depreciation of a car like theirs cost forty dollars a month at the very least, and that so long as he would have to owe a great deal of money for merchan- dise he had no business to have this expense. The forty dollars a month belonged to the people who let him have goods on credit, he said. His wife was a sensible woman, though harassed by the social ambitions common to her sex, and in the end she gave in gracefully. After that when they felt the need of country air on Sunday afternoons they walked a couple of miles down the river and had a pienic lunch, which pleased the children and dog as much as the automobile rides had done. Walker had about seven thousand dollars to start in business with. In order to make a showing against the big firm across the square he had to carry a stock of about twenty thousand dollars. This was a heavy load to sus tain, but he felt that he could do it, as there was plenty of business in the community for two good concerns. If he could make three or four thousand dollars a year profit it would not be very long before his assets would catch up with his debts. He made arrangements with a New York wholesaler to carry him on long credit for an open account of ten thou- sand dollars, promising to buy their lines straight through; whatever they did not handle he bought from other con- cerns at regular terms. In this way he arranged to finance his thirteen-thousand-dollar indebtedness. It would have worked out first-rate, except for the fact that business was too good. He got into trouble by doing too much business for his capital. The public began to patronize Walker liberally from the start. He was personally popular in the community, and then there was the usual run of trade which always comes to a new merchant from people who are disgruntled with the old concerns. But Walker made one mistake in his figuring. Business is done largely on credit in small towns, particularly Southern small towns. He had to let his goods go out all spring and summer, and wait for pay- ment until the farmers got the money for their crops in the fall; and a great many of the farmers had an unpleasant habit of holding off selling their products in the expecta- tion of higher prices. Sometimes the farmers made money by holding to their crops,.and sometimes they lost. But meanwhile Walker had very little cash to send to his cred- itors. His capital was.all on his books, Of course Walker, being born and bred in the com- munity, knew how conditions would be, and he had not looked for any great embarrassment frontit. When the old firm needed cash to carry its accounts it merely sent its ledger over to the bank and showed the cashier how much Continued on Page 173) a 1]

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New Ir EN are at liberty, and encouraged, to do the best ‘t things in life; probably you cannot recall anything forbidden that is not in some way objectionable. When you encounter the word “ Danger”’ it is notice that those who have been over the road have given warning to those following. If you are traveling in a strange country and encounter a sign reading “‘ Road closed; turn to the right” you will not find the forbidden road the best one. Millions of men have lived millions of years and tried everything. The result of this experience has passed down from the first to the last generation. Anyone who bets on his judgment against the judgment of the world will be punished for folly. Look at the next fool you meet; even you can tell him how to avoid some of his troubles. Nature knows, and tells; everywhere there is an under- current of truth anyone may take advantage of—simple, but sufficient. No one ever thought a colt big enough to work when six months old, so we do agree on some things When we do not know the truth we are carefully looking for it with further experiments. Philosophers are only bold men who write what others, being well trained in idealistic conventions, dare not write. The greatest philosopher is a mere man who records conditions he has long observed; much of his wisdom comes from the people with whom he is surrounded. There is a new drawing every year in the lottery of life, and the result depends upon yourself. You need not be a mere number, compelled to take whatever comes out of the box, as a matter of chance. If you are Number 29,922,865 this year, you may rate higher in the next lrawing if you really wish to do so. You may not draw capital prize, but you may do well. There will be equent attempts to stack the cards on you, but watch it and don’t stand it; you needn’t. When a man gets a salary of fifty thousand dollars a year, probably three thousand of it is for his work and the balance for his judgment. After a woman has studied life from bride to grand- mother and been successful in all her réles, she has an amount of information that would do credit to an elderly judge, bishop or doctor. Many of the heroes with whom we shame ourselves not only did not perform the feats credited to them, but never existed. Daniel Boone is known as the greatest Indian fighter because his admirers have invented stories about him; he probably ran as often as the average man, and missed as many shots In the midst of ple nty and liberty, those who live on a prison diet will find results excellent I have made mistakes; I would not be careful if I had t. The man who is honest may be careless, or not know. The meanest thing done by gentlemen calling themselves Progressives is the inference they give, by shrug and innuendo, that those who oppose their big schemes are not good citizens, and opposed to measures that will benefit the country and mankind. The men they abuse so meanly sit on the safety valve and never object to as much steam as is necessary to keep the wheels moving in a proper way. By E.W. HOWE Men dehorn cattle, knowing fighting is not good for cattle; but build great battleships with which to encourage the fighting spirit among themselves. Man is naturally cowardly, and afraid of war, but believes he is so imuch smarter than the enemy he can build a gun that will shoot fifteen miles, while the enemy is peppering away at him with a gun able to shoot only ten miles. But the final fact is that in the world’s battles the loss on one side is about as great as on the other. Of the millions of books, newspapers and magazines now in existence, or that have existed in the past, probably there is not one that openly teaches drunkenness, false- hood, dishonesty, impoliteness, unfairness or idleness. To doubt such an array of authority is inexcusable. What a fight man is compelled to make for the apple, and what a free gift of Nature the wild crab apple is! I drove through the country last spring, and the road was lined with wild crab apple trees in full bloom. They were beautiful, but no one had sprayed them or trimmed them. Still, they were not worth anything except as sentiment rousers. Real reform work is incidental to doing your own work; the best reformers do not give all their time to it. If there is a little merit in a printed composition—a sug- gestion of an idea, a clever expression of an old one—it is all you have a right to expect. If it is dull, as is usually the case, dismiss it without prejudice against the poor author, who is probably a bundle of weaknesses and prejudices, as you are. Writing is not a divine art; it is as tiresomely human as is conversation. What is there to eat that has not been eaten? What is there new to say in print? We talk of the influence of a good mother on the life of her son. The influence of a good father is also important. A father knows more of the real problems that will con- front his son; some of the lessons instilled into the boy's mind by his mother may be too sentimental, and he may be compelled to unlearn them. Every man knows the importance of common sense, and should not neglect to give his sons the benefit of the little he possesses. Our list of wrongs is becoming too long. It is evidence that we either invent wrongs or are too lazy to remedy them. Whatever is palpably wrong with your plumbing, your teeth, your drainage, your county, city, congressional district, state or nation, should be fixed, and usually can be. It is an inefficient man who forever fusses about his wrongs and does nothing If I were a Mussulman soldier the general couldn't fool me by saying that the moment I was cut down and killed by the enemy I would awaken in paradise. I don’t know whether this is wisdom or cowardice, but I simply couldn't believe the story. And if the general remained in the fort while he sent me out to attack the enemy and get the chance of being transported instantly to paradise, 1 should know he did not believe the story, either, and that he intended to fool me. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST i! aveler Over an Ol Road Don’t get yourself in a situation where you need vindi cation. After a complete vindication a good many will have doubts of your innocence. Many believe that if a man has money he should lend it to whoever applies, and accept his word that he will pay it back. But if that is an improvement on the present plan we shall have trouble putting it into effect. The world has declared that one wife at a time is better than three or four. In the few countries where polygamy is practiced only a small portion of the men take ad- vantage of it; not because they are more perfect gentle men than we are, but because they have learned from experience that polygamy results in a bad mess, I recall a certain man who, while occupying an exalted position, was called an autocrat. Now that he has been thrown out of his high position it develops that he was uncomfortable in it, and that he was subjected to many indignities and injustices. He was really an old man who didn't always know exact tly what was best to do. We poor people hate the rich most cordially because we mistakenly imagine they have no troubles I don’t know which is the more objectionable, an old man’s conceit because of his wisdom, or a young man’ because of his youth Some people dearly love the story that a poor man was once sent to the penitentiary for stealing a loaf of bread with which to feed his starving wife and children. There never was a court or jury that would impose such a sen tence; there never was a baker who would prefer such a charge, or a prosecuting attorney who would prosecute it; there never was a policeman who would arrest a man for such an offense. If it should be discovered that a poor man had stolen bread to keep his wife and children from starvation, the judge, the prosecuting attorney, the police- man, the baker, the people, the newspapers would promptly join in a movement to relieve his distress; and, his distress being relieved, someone would get him a job. Probably every man has a little superstition; I doubt if even the bold ecitor of The Truth Seeker entirely escapes. Those who do not pray, knock on wood. I some- times think that, from my helplessness as a fool, I have sacrificed my life a dozen times, and that something that came in on an east wind saved me. The three wise men came from the east long ago, but there are others there to this day. When a father gives his son good advice he is probably us wise as the sages of old; indeed, he is probably quoting them. Few children go astray as a result of taking the advice of a father or mother Much of the literature of love serves to give young men a course in the old art of deception; but fortunately it also teaches young women the art of defense I do not care to fool any man; when he discov fooled him he will do me more harm than my cunning did If you get the best of a bargain by rs I have me good cunning, better give it back before the policeman arrives Concluded on Page 54

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12 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST By RICHARD WASHBURN CHILD THE LU E TELvuSTRATE DO BY CLARENCE October 9,1920 F. UNDERWOOD HAT a face! George Chataway, the nice young Englishman from some nice old gardened estate out atani¢ of harm’s way in Devonshire, made the comment after a long, almost rude, stare at a thin, tall, dark, evil ountenanced at the next tablein Durin’s dipping the un lighted end of his cigar into the hot black coffee before each sybarite puff Rathbun, who sat who has made a world of in hotel real estate, and who be ing —for reasons best known to himself—a bachelor, shot a glance at Chataway No doubt the boy, raised in some repressive, man who sat with us and money he was thinking that straight-and-narrow atmosphere, probably his nice was wondering whether people at home and he himself were always on good be havior because of virtue or because of fear George had come out tosee Amer- ica, and had never been able to get farther west than the sunset side of Broadway. Two weeks had given him an almost wistful expression, especially when he sat among the changing throng in a place like Durin’s. His eyes were full of the flash and white arms and twinkling feet, and it would have and hypocritical to deny that he would have liked to know just what would happen if one were a part of it all “As a matter of fact,” said Rath- bun, “the man with the satanic face of success pretense, of been absurd is Brisco Bourne. He has been on Broadway for years as a designer of costumes for musical The meditation iwenty shows and revue that on his face, and call hellish, I know very well. It never comes except when he dines you now see alone in a wild place like this and recalls the memory of his wife. Hi one idea for nearly two decades has been to save enough money to go back to a place I think they call Trellis, Kansas, and build a memory We were sijient. After a bit Rathbun laughed it is always difficult to know just what is in Much more decent and tender things The that applies to these people maternity hospital to her ‘Of course, the human heart usually than we guess or anybody wants to show matches, please. Oh, yes, here too. They may look like satyrs, but they’re not.” He turned with a quick twist of his heavy body to Paxton, the playwright He “There Vera Savarin!” said: was Vera Savarin! Of course! Well, it was Richard Brayley who put an end to her career, and that story rather goes to prove something He came from Spurley, Ohio, which would be meaning leas if one had not seen a set of souvenir post cards from that place showing The Falls and the Phoenix Bank Build ing and McKinley Park. These cards were enough to introduce Spurley—a place where there are junction rail road yards and long, far-away whoops of locomotives at night suggesting sadness, and a few blocks of stores with lawyers’ offices and lodge rooms above, and a Carnegie library across from the Methodist Church, and three fac tories and an industrial housing district down near the river, and residences with white-picket and bent-ironwork fences on the hill. Anyone could tell that Spurley was a terrible American town, outwardly of small and mean spirit and deadly dullness in the rounds of life, but with some latent nobility that would leap up into fire when war came, and otherwise could only be seen by watching the undercurrent of quiet idealism that kept life straight on some sort of an awkward climb upward The first time we ever saw big Dick Brayley was the night Trafford Kelly, the song writer, took us into the grill to meet him “I've caught a rare one,”’ he said. game bird from a tank town in Ohio “A big, fine-looking He made a killing in “the is Certainty Stop, Look and Listen To-Night. Look at That Head of Hair—That Flash of Red and Gotd Above That Tinktling Green Fabric!" business, and would have blossomed out long ago, but his mother lingered on for a while. Now she sleeps on the hill, and the voleano in this guy’s soul has been brought by him to Broadway to blow its little head off and cover everything with lava and gold dust.’ We took a look at the new specimen. He was a broad- shouldered, big-handed man, not much more than thirty- four or five, with a touch of gray in the hair above his ears, a broad forehead, space between the eyes, and a pretty good, straight, honest look. Anyone would have guessed that his was not a very complex soul. No doubt his sim- plicity had been the basis of his success. He had inherited the Spurley Washing Machine and Brooder Company. During the war it earned a creditable and exceptional record turning out parts for aircraft frames—and no end of a sudden fortune. ‘ You don’t mean that this is your first visit to New York?” asked Kelly as Brayley, with a bit of nervous flourish, ordered for all of us. “Yes, sir,” the newcomer said, talking in his abrupt, short sentences. “I’m going to make it my home. New York is the center of things. No denying that. I've never been able to get here before. I never could leave Spurley on account of mother. You know how that is?” That began the picture that was gradually filled in with all its colors and shapes and oddities, as bit by bit we learned to know Dick Brayley and what he had been out- side and inside all those years: Long before he ever took hold of Vera Savarin, who was known better on the bill- boards as The Golden Lure, we knew that those who looked upon him as he appeared externally and called him “The Man who would be a Prince”’ had not figured on the depth of still waters. No doubt it is absurd to use the expression “‘still waters”’ in connection with his name. He tried to make them run swift enough, but who could know why without knowing about the thing that he always shuddered over when he used to say: “‘ No wonder a man loves life—if you know what I mean— when one has known thirty- odd years of death in Spurley.” This fellow Brayley had been born there. All hisfamily had ever known was the quiet round of life or the grim push of life. His grandfather had farmed rocky land in Maine, driven to the post office and general store, read the Bible, paid off the mortgage and died with sons and daughters scattered all over the pio- neer West. He left some good ma- hogany furniture and dried flowers incased in glass ovals, and a stuffed redbird. His father had gone to Spurley in the old days with a bride from Her- kimer County, New York, and set up a wood-turning mill almost on the spot on the river bank where the Spurley Washing Machine and Brooder Company’s works spread out now. The sum-total result at the time of his death was a big square white house on the street that leads to the cemetery that never sees much go by except when the Grand Army, escort and band, puff up the climb of Washington Avenue on Memorial Day. He also had a wife with some incurable kid- ney that had made her almost blind and certainly cantan- kerous. Those who did not know her used to exclaim: ‘What a dear little old lady!"’ He also left his only child—the boy who was then sixteen, just getting rid of a change of voice and taking on long trousers. Dick was thinking even then of leaving Spurley. In those simple days of fishing, high school, foot- ball, strawberry festivals at the church and smoking in the grave- yard, he said he leaned toward the life of an actor, because an actor is guaranteed that he will know how life feels and what it means in order to show other people what great emotions are. Just how Mrs. Brayley, with only the assistance of Eben Bush, the president of the Phoenix Bank, who always knew all about how anything could not be done, managed to carry the business on until ‘The Man who would be a Prince’ was twenty-one will always remain a mystery. She did it all from a rocking-chair in the second-story front window of the blue bedroom, and then when young Bray- ley, putting from him, one after another, dreams of being an actor, a man of the world and a diplomat in an am- bassador’s post in Russia, where life is led intensely and vividly, became of age the mother’s personality fell on him like a ton of smothering damp soot shutting out the light and air. Dick’s father had taken him once to Chicago. Now when the business, as the family had always called the Spurley Washing Machine and Brooder Company, gave a reason to send the new young owner to the great, ex- citing metropolis he looked forward to it eagerly. But mother had a spell. “Dick!” she gasped. ‘You can never know how I’ve learned to depend on you! If you ever left me alone in this house overnight it would be my death!” “T could get Mrs. Yates to come—or even Doctor Nagel to sleep in the east room.”’ “You are an unnatural son to think of such a thing! Oh, the years I worked my fingers to the bone for you! The devotion I gave!”’ “Well, mother, I guess maybe you’re right,” the young giant had said; and that phrase, ‘“‘ Mother, I guess maybe you're right,” became, as the years went by, a kind of harp string plucked over and over again until it made a monot- onous hum of years of devotion and of submerged per- sonality. Just once there came a crisis. In his heart of hearts Brayley fought out then a terrible battle to renounce for- ever the idea that he would ever live a great life. ‘Great Life’ was the phrase he used with all the emphasis of disease

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capitals and italics, to express the green rooms of theaters, the boudoirs of dancers, the courts of Europe, the white lights of New York, travel, adventure, great banquets, conspiracies, intrigues, the pomp of Rome—or Broadway. He was twenty-five and Myra Carmichael was warm of color, plump of figure and certainly good of intention. He came to the parting of the ways. Life in Spurley with her, and pies, and vegetable hash on Monday nights—that was love. The world—far away in time or distance—of mid- night, evening clothes, low-necked gowns, music—that was glamour. He determined to give up glamour for love. But when, sitting in the evening, as he always sat be- tween five-thirty and supper time, in that great, empty, square house, with its steel engravings and glowering old fur- niture, with his great brown hand over his mother’s, he said to her: “‘ Mother, I want to talk to you about Myra Carmi- chael,”’ the old vixen with her saintlike face gave a scream. “It’s come! It’s come!” she shrieked in a fine, thin, piping voice. ‘The thing I most dreaded in all the world!” “Why, mother!” “You'd leave me for some minx of a girl, eh? You'd go away and leave me here helpless with my memories! Or you'd bring some outsider into our home! And you not yet twenty-six, and never spent a night away from me! Is this the reward I get from my own flesh and blood?” ‘“*She’s a nice girl,”” he said simply. ‘I thought maybe she’d steady me.” “Steady you! What steadying do you need? Haven't you come from steady people? Haven’t you a steady life? You get up just like your father did at six- bobbing against the screens in the summer and snow pattering on the panes in winter, he read Balzac and the Russian novelists and smart magazines and those that told of society or those that told of the borderland of society, or the plots of plays or printed pictures of lovely stars of the screen and stage. He knew what was the correct dress for men and who was at Palm Beach and what was behind this and that divorce and where the best chefs in the country were located. That it was vice or sensuality or mere pleasure that attracted him was not an accusation that anyone could make justly. The glamour was not that. It was being a man of the world, having the savoir-faire, living among the best of viands, the rarest of wines, the most beautiful of women and the most brilliant of wit; it was to him entertaining in all magnificence, with great gestures of hospitality; it was living surrounded by the great dramas of love; it was being, indeed, a man of whom chorus girl and banker would say some day “ Ah, there was a prince!’’ That was the glamour! That was life! Recalling the glamour of life—of the great lure—he would think to himself, “Perhaps, even now, when the opera is over, there is a supper party where there are ballet dancers and Russian noblemen and reporters on the great New York dailies and authors and artists and actors and women with their eyes filled with the sadness of expe- rience and the flash of jewelry and music and gleaming goblets!” And then he would go to bed with a sigh, remembering that this was Spurley and that he hated Spurley; that THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 13 to-morrow by eight he would be down at the business, and that he hated the business; that at five-thirty he would come back because his heart would make him come back to pat his mother’s hand. Some day perhaps he could wipe his own hands of it all! Some day he could take up his art—the art of being a man of the world. That day came. It came at the end of a long four years during the European turmoil, when money rolled, slid and flowed into the surplus and was put into the increase in plant of the Spurley Washing Machine and Brooder Com- pany. Brayley wondered how he would ever spend so much money. Youth was stil! his; he still had the skin, the eyes, the straight figure of youth when he asked the mayor of Spurley what the municipality would like as a gift. Only old men or last wills and testaments had ever been benefactors of Spurley. The mayor finally decided on a watering trough and drinking fountain and a shaft of granite to commemorate the minister’s son and the town drunkard, both of whom lost their lives in the war Before it was done one hot August day came when Dick’s mother began to breathe faster and faster and sink deeper and deeper into an unconsciousness that in its final pro- fundity marked her end. Well, he had done his duty by his mother. He had even thought he loved her. He had said over and over again as she hung her dead weight upon the neck of his per- sonality and exercised her dominance: “There, there, mother! I guess you’re right.””. But it was over now. He felt a great relief. Conscience-stricken because through his film of grief that he knew he ought to feel, thirty, and work all day and have supper and go down to get the Chicago paper at the drug store and read aloud to me and go to bed. Godbless my boy! He’s always so good!” There was a long si- lence. The locomotive whistles down in the valley sounded so far away and yearning and lonesomeandthreaten- ing of sadness and sep- arations! “T shan’t live long,”’ said his mother, with the tears of self-pity streaming down her cheeks. “Don’t marry, Dick!” “Well, mother, I guess maybe you're right,’ he said. “‘And now it’s time for sup- per again.” He was thinking of the old set of china that came out twice a day, and twice a day was put back in the cupboard by the hired girl after he had eaten his meal alone at the oval table. It was white, with a gold stripe round the edge and one rose in the middle of everything. That was the life he led. The people in Spurley thought it was a beautiful life. Hardly a mother in Spurley failed at one time or an- other to hold up Bray- ley as the kind of son who shows proper grat- itude toward the one who had brought him into the world. None of them knew the truth about him. The truth about him never appeared until, having patted his mother’s hand until she had gone to sleep, he tiptoed to his room and locked the door and lit the ornamental glass lamp, or—when the electric service of Spurley was started— there always bubbled up the joy of being free, just as if school were over or a reprieve and a pardon had been sent by the governor to the square, white Brayley mansion, which to Dick had appeared at times as a great white tom) with the green tops of the giant maple trees drooping over it. Six months after his mother had left that house for the last time Srayley went to Hig- ginson, the lawyer the man with the prominent ears — who is the best story teller in Spurley “Well, Jim,” said Dick with a sigh, “I guess you'd better put the old house on the market.” “Sell your father’s house! Where are you going to live?” “New York and Paris.” ‘“‘New York and Paris! You ain’t crazy?” “No, I ain’t!” said frayley. “‘But I’m going to leave Spurley, Jim. I've got the busi- ness all in order. I’m rich now, and alone I'm going to see life a lot of life. And I'm going to live, I tell you!” ‘ That was why he wa in New York. That was why he lived at the ‘mbervelt in a suite of rooms done in peach and gold. That wa why he gave the par- ties—those Lucullan feasts which might have rivaled the de- bauches of a Roman emperor, save for one presence that never could be banished from them—the presence of Richard Brayley him- self. Somehow ‘‘ The Man who would be a Prince,” standing with a glass in his hand to turned on the light, and with night moths The Goiden Lure Rose and Stood With Her White and Wonderful Back Turned Toward Him (Continued on Page 154)

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14 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST October 9,1920 the politicians hopefully but dubiously set forth, this presidential campaign should be vertiginous by the last of October. At the mo- ment of observation, more than two months after his Republican senatorial colleagues made Mr. Harding their candidate for President, and al- most as long since Mr. Murphy, Mr. Brennan, Mr. Marsh ef al. did as much for the people by conferring the same distinction on Mr. Cox, there isn’t a leaf stirring save the foliage of the personal bush Mr. Cox is shaking here, there and yonder to the accompaniment of the cheep-cheep of Mr. Roosevelt. The thing is a dead calm, with Will Hays and Fred Upham trying to raise the wind—that goes two ways— in their headquarters, and George White and Wilbur Marsh similarly occupied in their headquarters, and none of them doing as well at it as the electric fans. lust as this sentence is written comes the news that George White may not be there very long; that his health is poor or that Candidate Cox thinks George’s health is poor or something of the sort; but he is there at the mo- ment. One cannot be expected to devote one’s life to these chairmanship matters. What's a chairman, more But to proceed I: A SLOW start mezns a rapid finish, as or less? The answer is less, usually Hectic Interest Scarcer Than Hens’ Teeth R. HARDING sits on his porch at Marion and contem- plates the gravel they quite unnecessarily spread over his lawn to protect the grass from the feet of the multitudes of tumultuous pilgrims to his sequestered shrine, and Mr. Cox hurls himself against the proletariat at from four to six hurls per day, and is bounced back from the oratorical impact dented but undismayed Here we are, fellow Americans, midchannel in what the advance notices set forth to us as the most important presidential campaign since Mark Hanna, foreseeing with that clear vision that was his the far more expert opera- tions of the Federal Reserve Board along those lines, be- ought and induced us to save the currency from the amateurish inflation proposed by Mr. Bryan midchannel in that tremendous DECORATIONS Br By Samuel G. Blythe MOORE GUERNSEY struggle, that epochal contest, that transcendent battle for or against Article Ten and Armenian mandates and inter- pretative reservations and reserved interpretations and no foreign entanglements and international participation and national honor and ditto dishonor, and the great respon- sive, self-determining, obligation observing, world viewing, stirred, eager people are devoting their exclusive attention to the number of home runs Babe Ruth makes each day; the merits of the Reds and the Giants, and the Yanks and the Sox; to home brew and where to get a drink; to an Italian who landed conservative Boston with a promise of fifty per cent interest; and to the sad fate of a lady who was shipped from Detroit to New York in a trunk. It is amazing—inecredible—and true. One wanders from the Pacific to the Atlantic and back again, seeking the hectic interest and the fervent enthusiasm, the popular uprisings, the ardor, the intensity, the eager discussions, the spirit of battle, the consecrated determination to re- move the Democrats from power or to keep them there; and one finds that the great American people, face to face with this crisis in their political affairs, do not give a hoot about either Harding or Cox. They wrote this campaign off long ago, decided what they shall do, marked it “ Busi- ness to be completed on Election Day,” and thus it rides. No doubt the forthcoming ballyhoo will stir them here and there. No doubt the ding-donging the politicians must do to justify their jobs will have some effect, but those will be the shallows murmuring. The tom-toms will rouse a certain portion of the people to a grudging participation in the exercises, but the fact of it is that the American people are all set on this election, and will remain so set unless some extraordinary and egregious event shifts them from their present position to another. They look on Harding and on Cox with the mild- est interest, and give them only perfunctory atten- tion. They will vote in November, but what will incite their majority voting will not be the League of Nations or any of its corelated policies or issues, or high cost of living and its numerous ramifica- tions, or taxes per se—not any of these or any of the other trimmings and straddlings of the two plat- forms, either as items of governmental policy to be adopted or rejected or as unified party policy. Those platforms might as well not have been written. Those extended speeches of acceptance need not have been made, except as part of the usual mummery of a campaign and to give the ballyhooers something to ballyhoo about. They amount to next to nothing. The Real Issue of the Campaign HE issue the people of the United States are going to the polls on next November is the issue of Wilson and Wilsonism, to say whether they want the Democrats to stay in power or not. They will not take a solemn refer- endum on the League of Nations or on any other proposi- tion. Their solemn referendum will be on President Wilson himself, and all his works and all his workers. That is as certain as the dawning of Election Day is certain, and the politicians know it, too, no matter what dispute of the assertion they may make. There is nothing prophetical about that statement. It is a statement of existing fact, of present intention, of settled popular conviction. The issue is the President and what he has done and what he has not done. The instru- ments for the expression of either approval or disapproval happen to be Harding and Cox. They could have been Smith and Jones equally well. The professional patter of the situation is League of Nations and the treaty and all — y, |

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=. ——_ SS thus and so, set forth with such vagueness of party lan- guage thata shift can be made by either candidate at any time to meet whatever expe- diency demands. Both Hard- ing and Cox are searching about for talking points, ready to be opportune when- ever there comes a chance for opportunism; ready to steer to any current that favors; protectingthemselves with “buts” and “ifs’’and “onthe other hands.’ To what purpose? This campaign was over before it was begun so far as the result is con- cerned. There will be great clamor and shout- ing and much bellowing and loud ballyhoo. Presently, if they can raise the money, there will be all the usual incitement of partisanship. Presently the hustings will resound. Presently the editorial writers will begin to double-lead their appeals for Cox and progress or for prog- ress and Harding. The walls will blazon with placards. Areal Republican Roosevelt will stalk forth on the trail of an attenuated Democratic one. The mails will be clogged with propaganda. The advertisements will appear. The little pol- iticians will play their little politics and the big politicians will play their littler. It will be all regularand conventional and campaignlike, and not enough votes will be changed by it all to wad a campaign gun. This election is over—done—finished, unless some tre- mendous event happens to shake the people from the stand they have taken. That is possible. The times are fluid. Our to-morrows never were so much new days as now. After what we have seen since August, 1914, no man is justified in holding that anything may not happen, from the millennium to Elihu Root voting the Socialist ticket. But barring such a disturbing and realigning event, this election is settled right now, and is settled on the issue of Wilson and Wilsonism; either for or against, as the case may be. Wherefore, with the Americah voters all dressed up and waiting for Der Tag, we may well turn for purposes of diversion to a contemplation of the minor phases of the campaign thus far, which means the last of August, when it has been announced that Candidate Harding will go to Minnesota on September eighth, and when Candidate Cox has just started whirlwinding about. The Harding announcement induces thought of the well-known and extensively advertised front-porch schedule for the sen- ator. They are mysterious about that front-porch busi- ness, so far as its conception is acknowledged. Nobody fathers it, but Harding, kind, genial soul that he is, stands for it and on it—to a degree. Perhaps he wanted it, harking back to the good old days of McKinley at Canton and Harrison at Indianapolis, and so on, and remembering the distressing outcomes of Mr. Bryan’s three stampedes about the country, when all the populace came out to hear and see, but few remained to vote. Oh, for the Porch and the Man! N ANY event, as soon after the nomination at Chicago as Will Hays had attended to the little formality of hav- ing himself reélected chairman of the national committee, which was pretty soon—about four hours and a half or five hours, to be exact—and before Harry Daugherty and John King and several of the other boys knew just what was going on, it was announced that Harding, following the fashion of McKinley and Harrison, both of whom got away with it, would speak to the gathering multitudes from the front porch of his home in Marion, Ohio, and not go traipsing about the country. He would remain in a calm, dignified and classic atmosphere, being calm, dig- nified and more or less classic himself, true to the tradi- tions of his party, and emit his sonorous periods in a calm, dignified and classic manner. It sounds well. The presidency is a great office. No candidate should demean that great office by hurly- burlying about the country in frantic speech to the electorate and in indecorous canvass for their votes, but should speak to them in an august and imposing manner, and send them back home zealous in the faith and girded for the fight. The language is a literal translation of Will Hays’ announcement. The whole thing was predicated on the high regard the Republicans have for the great office, which regard is not lessened in its material aspects by the fact that they have not had said office for going on eight years. Now the front-porch idea is predicated on three essen- tials—viz. and first, the porch; to wit and second, the man on the porch; and namely and third, the people to hear the man on the porch speak from the porch. Two of these essentials were at hand—the porch and the man. When it came time to provide the people the Republican porch proponents woke to the sickening truth, the nauseat- ing knowledge, that whereas the country was full of traveling and other railroad passenger agents in 1896 and again in 1900 and even so far back as 1888, and the joy and delight of those traveling and other railroad passenger agents was to work up parties and run excursions to Can- ton and Indianapolis from far and near points, solicit such business and arrange for it and provide cars and trains for it, and so on—whereas that was the case in 1896 and in 1900 and so far back as 1888, it was not the case in 920— not so you could notice it. Various desolating truths were brought home to the Republican porch proponents, and among them these: The traveling and other railroad passenger agent is extinct as the locofoco; the railroads are not looking for excursion business, but are avoiding it; the railroad equipment and the difficulties of operation at present make railroad men extremely indifferent about front-porch campaigns at Marion or anywhere else; and impassioned appeals to the railroad men to hustle out and fix up some excursions of various representative bodies from various representative localities leaves the railroad men cold—gelid, indeed. Times have changed nowhere to a greater degree than in getting up railroad excursions for front-porch purposes. When the Hocking Valley Railroad officials were asled ( eae ae ee aN Ye ey U #3 im =. =a "tary 6 . er THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 1S how many extra cars they could provide for the vast throngs who were to go to Marion on notification day they looked things over and said that if they were put to it they could provide eight ears in addition to those in regular service—eight and no more. This situation not only gave the front-porch propo nents pause, but it also put quite a pause on the front porch, a pause in frequently punctuated up to date by porcha- tions, because there have been few delegations to porchate at, and most of those came in by automobile. There was another feature of the situation at the time the front-porch campaign was thought out and installed, and that was the certainty among the Republicans, and especially that little band of patriotic senatorial Republicans who so unselfishly took nothing for the Senate at the Chicago convention save the chairman of the convention, the chairman of the resolu tions committee, the platform, the nominee for President and a few other little knickknacks and kickshaws like that,and magnanimouslyrefrained from nominating a senator for Vice President after they learned that the convention positively would not accept Lenroot—the certainty among these generous and proletarian gentlemen that the Democrats would nominate McAdoo at San Francisco. They had it all doped out They were sure that President Wilson would be for McAdoo, and had a fine line of heir-apparent and crown prince stuff to put forth. They figured that their nominee wouldn't have to leave the front porch to combat that nomination, and they were terrifically jolted when they discovered that the San Francisco convention did not nominate McAdoo; that there were four hundred and thirty-five delegates in that convention, an ample number to carry out their intention, who would have stayed in San Francisco until Christmas before they would have voted for McAdoo, and that it was barely possible they were in error in their original assumption that Mr. Wilson was so keen about McAdoo as had been surmised Nothing Wanting But Delegations HE nomination of Cox not only gave the Republican campaign a new and unexpected angle, but it also put a dent in the front-porch enterprise that will be more and more apparent as the contest comes to a close. Wherefore we hear voluble explanations that the candidate never did intend to remain on the porch all the time; that he alway had planned to go out and make a certain number of speeches, and thus and so. What is heard about the rai! roads and the nomination of Cox is equally voluble, but not so suitable for the chaste exposition of the type low ever, they have put gravel all over the lawn in front of the Harding house at Marion, and taken the house next door for offices and built a nice bungalow in the back yard for the reporters to work in, and everything is excellently pro vided. All that is needed is delegations. Perhaps before this is printed the railroads will scramble together a few cars, and the passenger agents will get busy, and things will be as planned. Meantime the dates of Senator Harding’s speeches from other rostrums than t are being given to the public. We are promised loud hullabaloo by September, but ir these late August days the candid observer of what is going on comes to this conclusion: The Republicans have plent of campaign managers, but no campaign, while the Dem: crats have a campaign, but no campaign managers. Perhaps it is just as well both ways. Who can tell? My pers (Continued on Page 161) he porch onal opinion, justified ~ a

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16 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST TLLUSTRATEDOD October 9,1920 HANSOWN BOOTH AVING no place to go and no en thusiasm what ever about going, Joseph Glidden Hicks wandered through the clut tered yards of the P. & B. and finally wung himself listlessly aboard the last car of a rattling little ac commodation as it clattered out on the track of the Shore Division Back in the of fices of the P.&B., where fora period of months preced ing the big strike he had owned an office of his own and a brass cuspi dor and electri fan, Joseph G.had often found him self wondering where all the old wooden coaches went when the ali steel train became lord of the rail Now he knew where they went They went to the Shore Division The Shore Divi ion was a fort mile apper dix to the P. & B tem a rusty neglected, tag-end of a road ambling through a wast of salt marshes and boggy cane brake, straddling on trestle from oneisland of much toanother,ending at last at a suc cession of cheap beach resorts The coach Hic climbed into was empty. The train eldom carried many passengers except on Sunday, and the car was stale with dirty peanut shells and chewing gum papers reminiscent of Sabbath junketing. Hicks lumped down into the rear seat wondering why on earth he had been fool enough to pick this accommodation when the yard was full of other trair liberal open-doored freights headed westward toward adventure rather than eastward toward the forlorn and unpeopled shore Old Pat Blaine was conductor of the accommodation, Number Forty All the men in the offices knew Pat Blaine. Pat stood less than five feet, had a temper like a carload of TN T ind ‘was so loyal to the company that he resented the presence of a foreign freight car in his train Joseph G. slid far down in the seat and dug into his pockets Desperate explorations brought to light only one copper cent. He looked at it in a sort of puzzled panic, till he remembered that he had spent his quarter for a wienie and some coffee and car fare back to the offices where the tired pickets still paced and the company, having filled the desks of the striking clerks with yaps, maintained its policy of calmly ignoring the strike. He regarded the copper coin with much disgust. ‘Most useless thing on earth!" he reflected bitterly. Can't buy a darn thing with it—except a postal card. There was a time’’—he looked out of the window, where the gray-green of the marsh was already encroaching on the town, washed with a strangely hollow sort of twilight, liquid and lavender and infinitely lonely —‘‘there was a time when | could have bought about a yard of thick white chewing gum with this cent, all wrapped up in striped tissue paper and with a solid gold ring set with a genuine ruby hung onit! But now He drew back his hand to throw it out the window Then he thought better of it and dropped it into his pocket what good is a cent?” There Was the Splash of a Paddie and Davy Warner Guided a Stender Canoe From Under the Bridge Without it he was flatly, desolately broke. The last local assessment had cleaned out the single strikers to help out the married ones, who were beginning to taste the bitter dryness of idle bread. A cent was money, though it would weigh nothing in an argument with Pat Blaine No bums rode on Pat's train. A story had sifted through the offices concerning a fresh resorter who had offered Pat a pint of gin to carry him to the end of the division. Rumor had it that Pat had kicked the briber off the Quarantine Bridge, but Hicks had never heard it confirmed. He was ready to believe it, however. He knew there was no use to try any blandishments on Pat. Likely enough if he had the fare Pat would have put him off because he was a striker. Pat was bitter against the strike, being a stubborn old goat stupidly content to work hard eight or nine hours a day for enough money to live on and the promise of a pension when the braid on his sleeve got as high as his elbow. Joseph G. decided that the wisest thing he could do, having been idiotic enough to get on Pat’s train, was to get off again. He went out and stood on the rear platform. Below him the rusty rails with greasy weeds and grass between spun out from under the wheels a meandering thread of solid ground wandering through a morass of canebrake, palmetto and trumpet vine. Here and there a ragged old cabbage palm thrust up a bushy head like a shaggy cannibal blinking awake. Blackbirds flashed their scarlet shoulders through the reeds and on an occasional patch of high ground a ‘negro cabin stood with a gaunt mule or cow picketed in the rank swamp grass. But for the most part there was empty desolation with a taste of the sea on the air, and the gray-greenish light of the sea lying over everything, steeping it in vast loneliness. Seant chance for a man afoot, with no thoroughfare other than the right of way. Yet rather than encounter the wrath of Pat Blaine, Joseph G. decided to swing off at the first slowdown. He could walk back to town. It was eighteen miles now by the last post. The walk- ing would give him something to do through the night, better than sleeping in the park. And there was no further use arguing with his landlady. He sat down on the platform ready to drop off. A red sluggish river crawled be- side the track and Joseph G. knew that there would bea bridge farther on. Pat Blaine was a stickler for orders. He would slow down for the bridge. Joseph G. Hicks was young; twenty-four to be exact. Hewasso young that he re- garded himself as being a bit bat- tered and wise and world-beaten, but he could still feel the spell of a swol len intimate moon, and sad music moved him to want to kiss something— no matter what. As he dangled his natty tan shoes abovethe blurring crossties the curious desolate silence of the marshes seeped into his young soul. He felt a trifle homesick and thought, with forgiving warmth, of Mrs. Varney’s basement dining room with the pitted copper samovar sitting on the radia- tor and the elongated table where Fritzie Kahn and the Dilloways and the girls from the Racket Store would be sitting down, about this time, to cold ham and dill pickles and doughnuts and iced tea. His trunk was still there, parked in a ratty storage place, where it would have to stay till he found another job or the P. & B. displayed signs of ordinary reason and sanity. Then beside the right of way there was a flutter and a squawk. A small infuriated rooster, fiery of head, with every feather bristling, came cackling out of the canebrake. Joseph G. poised himself. Chickens meant a human habitation near, probably the bridge tender’s house. He let his feet slide down till they almost touched the ground. Number Forty was slowing, blowing for the bridge. The train dragged to a craw: and Hicks catapulted off, spun a couple of times and righted himself as the train crept on the bridge. He stood and watched it slide over the spidery height of steel with a strangely apathetic indifference. Then he stiffened involuntarily, all the youth in him coming to attention. At the end of the bridge, not twenty feet from him, stood a girl. “Did you intend to get off here?” she asked him. She was a young girl, not more than twenty; little and dark and slim, with brown hair braided and pinned over her forehead. She stood still in small square-toed shoes and looked at him very straight. “You've made a mistake, I think. This is not a station. The first stop is Lassiter's, eleven miles farther.” Joseph G. shifted his feet. He had always before been gallantly at ease in any situation. Girls had never dis- mayed him. He kept his hair brushed to a plushy luster Hanson VP oath” } ’ } . j a = . (| | ‘ { i f } , { ¥ A i A } vl ¢ } | | i) ] 4 | ! H j i } t } ' (} i 4) sh) -- 5 ee

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ii ) H H , ; ; ‘ i | x a H J ’ 4 ' | AA ! . 7 and Fad a manicure every Saturday night. But this girl fixed him levelly with a pair of dead-black eyes. He at- tempted a debonair smile, but it succeeded merely as an impudent grin. “I’m not looking for a station,” he said; “I’m looking for a place to start walking from. This looks as good as any.” “Walking?” A faint shade of interest came into her face. He marked it with some personal satisfaction “Where do you want to walk?” Joseph G. took off his neat straw hat and made sure his hair was sleekly perfect by passing a caressing palm over it. He had a conviction that the happy combination of his tan mohair suit, cream-colored pongee shirt, soft brown tic and topaz scarfpin was wasted on this girl, but he had found it wise never to overlook any bets with the gentler sex. A girl would see a loose button before she would detect a cardinal sin “I’m not hard to please,” he declared jauntily. ‘Name some good places to walk to and I'll pick out the nearest one.” Her face, brown and delicately molded, stiffened with scorn “‘T can tell you the best place to start,”’ she said coldly. “That's here! And you have my permission to go either east or west as rapidly as possible. Only don’t stray off the right of way. It’s fifty feet down to solid ground any- where round.” She turned and walked across the bridge without a back- ward look. There was a house on the other side, a little square box set on piles, painted the sulphurous yellow of railroad property “Oh, I say!” Joseph G.’s voice held a certain contrition. He was broke and out of a job, but at least he was a gentleman. “‘Wait a minute. I didn’t intend to be fresh. I want to apologize. Please come back.” But the girl began to run lightly along the splintered plank. Joseph G. followed her doggedly. It would soon be dark and whichever way he went the going loomed endless gut he could not go with that look of hers ac- cusing him. He approached the house, where a slamming door told him which way she had gone. It was a bird box of a place, perched over the river, with every door and window and the tiny porch screened with thick wire against the malarial menace of the marsh. Joseph G. stopped and rapped politely on the wooden frame of the screen door. Then there bulked up from the muddy river bank below the house the largest man he had ever seen. “Howdy?”’ greeted this amazing person, dragging a rope of yellowish gray beard out of the way with a hand as huge and brown as a ham. ‘You lost, young man?” Hicks’ heart, which had indulged in a brief aéronautic spasm, fell back into place again and resumed its functions The man was built like a gorilla, with dangling arms and enormous sinewy chest and shoulders, but his eyes, blink ing from an ambush of tangled gray hair, bushy eyebrows and enveloping beard, held a childish shine of friendliness, and his voice was mild, with a bit of senile quaver in it “T got on Pat Blaine’s train and discovered that I hadn’t any money,” Joseph G. explained, wisely sticking to the truth, “‘so there was nothing to do but get off. Now I’ve got to get back to town somehow.” ** Ain't no way to-night, unless you go afoot. And there ain't no train to-morrow except Forty-one, comin’ back and that’s Pat Blaine’s. No use to try to ride with Pat ‘thout you got a ticket. Pat quit listenin’ to hard-luck stories the year after old man Noah decided it was dry enough to begin plowin’. You'll have to stay here all night, young feller. Our beds is clean and I reckon Davy’s gone in to snack up some supper.” Joseph G. flushed red. He was a likable sort of young fellow, a bit sensitive but masking it gallantly under a flippant nonchalance. Nobody had ever looked at him before as the girl at the end of the bridge had looked. He ached to enter that house, to show that contemptuous black-eyed little lady what chivalry and gentleness she had scorned, but he had to refuse politely, of course. “TI couldn't do that, thank you. I couldn’t impose on you.” ‘No imposin’—no imposin’ at all,’” boomed the hairy mammoth, shoving back a limp felt hat of enormous proportions. “‘I reckon you'll earn your board. I ain't had anybody to talk to since the bridge inspector was down this way six weeks ago, and I've told Davy all my yarns till she gets green round the mouth when I com- mence. Come in, young man. What did you say your name was?” He held the screen door open hospitably. “Hicks. Joseph Glidden Hicks.” “Hicks, h’m? Used to be a J. G. Hicks in the office wrote me a letter every month with my pay check in it.” THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 17 “I wrote it. I was that Hicks. I worked for the P. & B., mailing out the pay checks. You must be D. G Warner, and this must be the Quarantine Bridge?” “Yeah, I'm Warner.”” The old man pulled up a chair, but he did not seat himself or offer it to his guest. ‘“‘If you're Hicks from the office I reckon you struck with the rest?”’ “We had to go out. We couldn't help ourselves. We had to do what the union voted —whether we thought it was right or not.” “Yeah, IL reckon! Sit down, Hick It don’t make no difference to me. I work for the P. & B., but I ain’t got any grievance. And it ain't for me to pass judgment on other men’s grievances. I[ reckon they got smart fellers hired to do that. But—don't tell Davy you're a striker.” “Davy?” “She's my daughter. Davy’s cur’us. I reckon she gets it honest. I’m sort of cur’us too. But Davy’s young, and young folks has it harder. Davy don’t go much on strikes and she’s sort of set against strikers Just don't say noth- ing about it. Where was you aimin’ to go when you got on Pat’s train?" Joseph G. felt somewhat confused. What was there about this old bridge tender with a yard of seaweed on his chin, and this daughter with the snapping eyes and stubby shoes, that abashed him? thing to do with it “Why—I was just planning to leave town. I've been out of work for seven weeks and the company refuses to Probably being broke had some- be reasonable “TI seen they got another man making out my check some feller named Winant.”’ The old man let himself down in a paintless rocker and motioned Hicks to be seated ‘‘A mess he'll make of it too.” Joseph G. hitched up his trousers to display his socks. ‘‘ They pulled him off an express truck and gave him my desk —took him off hauling round ice-cream freezers and tires and crates of cabbage, and put him to making out fourteen different kinds of vouchers. I'll bet his books look like an autograph album in the madhouse by now!” “Yeah!” drawled D. G. Warner. “He writes a pretty fair hand, though. Pretty fair. Jest so’s you can read the figures, a man ain't so particular about the looks of a Continued on Page 116 Joseph G. Wes Grateful for the Bucket of Milk. It Gave Him an Intimate and Informal Air, a Bosom:-of:-the:-Family Aspect

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18 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Honest National Our Tas r HE Democratic Party pledges to the nt which will carry people a governn with it the confidence of the country October 9, 1920 © . ustm € Alm Authorized Interview With Governor James M. Cox, of Ohio, Democratic Nominee for the Presidency By A. R. PINCI during the last eight years paved the way to betterment in government? If we consider the institutions bequeathed to ) return the Democratic Party wants the people to have confidence in the Govern ment. It means teamwork between voter and public official, with each shouldering his or her share of responsibility Our problems will not wait. This is no time for hesitating, no time for wabbling We are in a time which calls for straight thinking, straight talking, straight acting and lots of work. There is no other way out of it “The Democracy that end by making its party purposes easily understood. We are not indulging in platitudes. It is not necessary to re contributing to read our platform to understand its mean ing. Mark this prediction, too, and mart it well: Before we are through with this work of reconstruction many a cit izen will thank his God that there is a Democratic Party, devoted as it is to the evolutionary processes of progress.’ It was James M. Cox, governor of Ohio, speaking as Democratic nominee for President in the course of an interview promised on the strength of the writer's middle-June forecast of his nomination Eight years to the day had passed since Woodrow Wilson, in the same capacity, explained the new freedom on the porch of the Little White House at Sea Girt, the ummer residence of New Jersey gov ernors, in a similar interview The meeting with Governor Cox was between intensive political conferences, ind when it seemed as if every Dayton inhabitant had nothing on his mind ex pt the notification ceremonies. The formality of election in that neighbor hood, during my visit, was a foregone conelu 1oOn He received me in his private editorial oftice, where between governing Ohio and teasing crops from its generous soil he manages a newspaper or two. With the shutting of the door the clangor of batter us by our forefathers as changeless, how can we progress? Now the truth of the matter is that our institutions are not changeless. They were given us by the providence of God, of course, but they will be kept for us just as long as our vigilant patriotic support of them justi- fies, and no longer. “As the contest begins, there are mani- festations which must be regarded as danger signs. The so-called old guard of the opposition has little understanding of the principles of a democracy in gov- ernment. They believe that our institu- tions are safe only in the hands of a class. By its control of the Republican Party, which it well-nigh wrecked by its greed, it is now seeking to return to power, and o shape affairs as to make government an agency with which progress has nothing in common. I do not see how it can be denied that the councils of the Republican Party are in reactionary hands.” “But,”’ I observed, “the leaders of the Republican Party insist that there have been many desertions, and that there will be many more, from Democracy’s ranks.” Experts in Office i, N THE contrary,’’ was the governor’s opinion, “itis the Republican leaders who have notoriously made common cause with the other groups. Recall, if you will, the political contest of 1918. The result of that campaign was not a Democratic defeat. Our party went before the people with no desire of emphasizing its war- time achievements. The people were not in the humor, after the tragedies and ob- ligations of the war, to listen to campaign platitudes. By taking political advantage of the situation a slight gain was scored by the opposition, but the gain was arti- ficial; and the party which denied inter- course with every disloyal group will not suffer a reverse for doing so.”’ ies of telegraphic instruments and typeset A ting machines was beyond hearing. Nor had I time to sit down before Governor Cox fired at me half a dozen questions about as many un- connected subjects. With the utmost frankness and vigor he sought information and inquired for facts. For every question I submitted he found an opportunity to quiz He seeks opinions. Though Governor Cox did not say so in sO many words, he implies the poss ", which the lis tener can easily sense, of what he lers a most pre cious equipment — that he has lived ti vough the life of the under man The Meaning of Progressivism ji RNING on his swivel chair, his back toward the edi- torial desk which bespeaks less the authority of owner ship than the continued incentive to render service Governor Cox is the excellent prototype of that army of Americans who have risen from average boyhood to posi tions of affluence and importance, his features strongly marked with those unmistakable imprints which denote the joy of living. Of medium height, compactly built, tanned by exposure to the invigorating climate of Ohio farm land, without obtrusive characteristics, he impresses one as a man of easy bearing, equally adept with the hoe and the per He is Jimmy to fellow Ohioans for the same reason that Roosevelt was Teddy to his admirers. ‘] have accepted the standard from the Democracy of America, conscious not only of the honor but of the great responsibility conferred,” Governor Cox said, with a voice of remarkable clearness. “Yet I am convinced that the results at San Francisco were not the result of preferences for individuals, but of officials whose respective records in public office have commended themselves to the majority of the people. What has been done in Ohio during the last few years is primarily the reason that the party has hon ored me.”’ After a pause he added: “ During the campaign Gevernor James M. Cox Becomes Emphatic the voters will have no trouble in identifying Ohio's great progress under a Democratic administration. And what by good teamwork in this state has been so successful in the opinion of followers can be multiplied forty-eight times as soon as the people at large have become convinced of our progressivism.’ “A great deal has been said in behalf or in spite of that much abused word,” | remarked. “Just what is pro- gressivism, or progressive government, in the new order of things?”’ “Progressive government means, first, the placing of experts in theory and practice on the boards of adminis- tration and regulation; second, the orderly and systematic combination of departments which deal with the same subjects and problems, and which are duplicating and in ome instances triplicating both labor and expense; and third, the enforcement of the same requirements as to economy, system and efficiency that join to private enterprises.”” At this point it seemed as if retrospection brought Gov- ernor Cox face to face with a mental picture of himself as a member of the House of Representatives a decade ago, an experience that during the campaign will stand him in good stead, because he can visualize national problems from the viewpoint of experience at Washington, thus free- ing him from much claptrap and political buncombe. “Progressive government,” he said, “means in its correct understanding constructive work in the way of keeping government geared up to modern requirements. Progressive government is now on trial in our country.” “Do you consider the Wilson administration as pro- gressive?” “ By all means,” he replied with unmistakable emphasis. “ How else may we reconcile progress if we do not keep pace with changing conditions? And has not the Democracy At this point Governor Cox digressed for a question on the advantages, if any, of certain Latin languages over English. ‘“‘What about the relation of government to business and business in govern- ment?”’ I asked presently, mentally cataloguing such items as foreign commerce, taxation, good roads, gov- ernment employees and kindred subjects, and eventually international relations, not forgetting the League of Nations. “If I sense with any degree of accuracy the state of public mind, I am correct in the belief that .a preponder- ance of the people of all classes have faith both in the wisdom and the certain results of a constructive progres- sive program of government,” he said. “The placing of experts in theory and practice, already referred to, on state or Federal boards of administration and regulation means that salaries should be provided to make possible the employment and retention of experts. Pay should be commensurate with service. Any reorgani- zation of government bureaus under the budget system must make provision for the right kind of service. Many Federal departments whose work affects more or less directly the country generally, such as the Post Office Department, Department of Agriculture, the Department of the Interior and others, have lost valuable men to busi- ness, thus crippling the service. “Of course it is a task of infinitely greater magnitude to reduce the number of public positions than it is to establish them. Not infrequently partisan considerations rise in opposition to such suggestions. But it can be done, and the Democratic Party pledges reductions as fast as they can be consistently undertaken. The expense of the Gov- ernment can be reduced to a maximum of four billion dollars, including interest on the national budget and due provision for the sinking fund. After considerable study of the subject, I have reached the conclusion that this reduction can be effected without loss of efficiency. — a. — 22s

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“The genius of man has evolved principles of business in Organization and accounting which clearly demonstrate the tremendous economic waste that flowed from old methods, and yet government has been unaccountably slow in departing from the beaten path. The answer to this is the budget system, and a Democratic administra- tion has done all it could to obtain its enactment. “T have always been interested in the budget system. I succeeded in getting it adopted in Ohio. I became inter- ested in the subject as a member of the Appropriations Committee of Congress, and after I became governor we established the system in this state in 1913. It kept us out of the poorhouse during the war, and it also enabled us to save many millions of dollars. ‘And now more than ever in the authorization of public expense we should be mindful of economy and surround the departments and independent boards with such checks and restraints as to prevent extravagance. But do not misunderstand; I am for a constructive and not a false economy. Let me speak plainly. Government under modern auspices is given enlarged functions, and it can render service to the people which was not attempted under the old order. “By careful regard for prudent expenditures,’’ Governor Cox said, “by those in public station, we shall be rewarded with honesty in the returns of property for taxation.” Lightening the Burden of Taxes = HAT’S what I want to hear about, governor,” I said. ‘Dissatisfaction has been declared with your stand on Federal taxation, and I believe a member of Congress has protested to you against it. It has been alleged that the repeal of certain taxes and the modification of others would be in the interest of Wall Street, so called.” “Needlessly assessing taxes or needlessly continuing taxes is not good public policy,’’ Governor Cox explained. “It is certainly time to repeal certain war taxes and to revise other taxes. It should have been done as soon as the armistice was signed. It is necessary to repeal war taxes to the extent of probably two billions of dollars—maybe more. At all events, it is not too soon to begin revising down- ward, and also to free the business men and families who least can afford a tax. That, generally speaking, means the man at the head of a little business which he probably runs himself, with the aid of members of the family if he requires outside aid, and it means the man who works for a moder- ate salary and who is unable to increase his income with every upward slant in the cost of living. “Tf it is diminished, then the weight of taxation will not only be reduced on our households and industries, but spur will be given by the Government to the moral sense which in its wakening is demanding lower tax rates. The time for this revision is auspicious. Never in our history has so much attention been given to the general subject of taxa- tion as now, and nothing can be for industrial purposes means sluggish development, and this in turn means decreased production. As probably every consumer by this time has learned, in establishing the selling price of its product every business establish- ment sets aside a reasonable profit and then adds to it the amount that must be paid to the Government. This tax is added in turn by the manufacturer, the jobber, the distributor and the retailer, the inevitable result being a staggering cost to the consumer. “Taking for granted that the Government can be con ducted, that the sinking fund can be set aside and the interest charges on the public debt be met at an annual outlay of four billion dollars, we could count on almost half of this sum by applying a small tax—from one to one and one-half per cent—on the volume of business done by any concern. We must take care to define the taxable business concern so as not to include those who cannot pay—and should not, as a matter of business and public policy—a tax. Moreover, it would be a simple matter to collect the tax. The taxpayer would not be confused by it, and it would be neither cause nor alibi for excessive prices.” “T believe you are in favor of eliminating the Federal inheritance tax, are you not?” “Personally I favor the abolishment of it as a Federal tax. At least we should abolish it just so soon as we can get along without it,’’ Governor Cox replied. “That method of taxation properly belongs to the states, and should be left to them. Tax on inheritances is based upon the principle of government being compensated for service rendered in conveying property from one generation to another. A man makes a will, and it has a definite force and effect because the law legalizes it. The right is given to him by the state, and the process of the distribution of his estate is through the agency of local government. The Federal authority has nothing to do with it, and therefore the compensation for service rendered should go to the states and local subdivisions of government.” “During the war, governor, the Government directed or controlled in varying degrees what is known as big busi- ness. What in your opinion is the relationship of the Government to business with regard to control?” “Control is of two kinds,” he explained: “state and Federal. In many cases state control of certain projects or affairs is desirable and feasible, though the same would not be the case with the national Government. “Constructive progress in government consists in large degree in determining the limitation of control over the great industrialism of the day, and this must be approached in fairness and intelligence. Whenever regulation is not the highest expression of human intelligence, then government becomes a travesty, and public opinion is very apt to swing back in favor of the old order. If, however, regulation means balancing the elements of successful practical expe- rience, profound and correct theory, and a courageous THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 19 adherence to fairness both to the nation and to business, the result is so self-evidently just that public confidence is enduring and the plea for the old days of inequitable pref Not only does society benefit by governmental regulation along prudent lines, but the institutions upon which official limitations are visited profit themselves “The Federal Trade Commission and the Federal Re serve Board, both bodies created by the progressivism of a Democratic administration, are an example of model gov- ernmental regulation for the public good. Both bodies, erence by government is useless charged with tremendous responsibilities, solve the prob lem of ascertaining just how far governmental regulation of business should go and not trespass upon the rights of the individual. Of course I realize that there is a vast difference between regulation and confiscation, and at no time in our history has it been more necessary to maintain the dividing line. On the other hand, we ought not to mistake regulation and call it confiscation.” Protection for Investors E SHOULD encourage the growth of business, but make sure that it does not increase by unfair methods or by governmental preference. Business in the main is hon est. It is the sporadic offender that makes trouble. We need a definite and precise statement of policy as to what business men, and working men, too, may do and may not do by way of combination and collective action. The law is now so nebulous that it almost turns upon the economic predilec- tions of the judge or jury. This does not make for confi dence in the courts or respect for the laws or for a healthy activity in production and distribution. There surely will be found ways by which coéperation may be encouraged without destruction of enterprise. The rules of business should be made more certain, so that on a stable basis men may move with confidence.” “A great deal of concern is evident because hundreds of millions of dollars have been lost by ignorant or greedy investors who have purchased securities of doubtful value, and even exchanging their Liberty Bonds therefor,”’ I remarked. ‘“‘Much has been said about the Government taking a hand. How far would such authority extend, and would it be mistaken for paternalism, or even needless interference with the so-called inalienable American right of speculating?” “The passage of a so-called blue-sky Federal law, I think, would be in the public interest,”” the nominee ex- plained. “Very many states have had to deal with the same problem, and, of course, Ohio has been no exception Our Ohio law on this subject prevents the sale of securities in that state until they have been passed upon by some constituted state authority. If the states do not protect the public, then the Federal unit should. It has an un- questioned authority over interstate commerce. “Ttis urged that the state and the more helpful to the welfare of our people than the present discussion which is going on everywhere within our borders. Not only is the real economic meaning of taxation and its relation to so- cial and govern- mental life to be better understood as a result, but the moral aspect of the subject will leave so deep an impression that our taxation poli- cies in the future will be a surer guaranty of the equality of rights under our institu- tions of govern- ment. ‘“* A considerable factor in the high cost of living is the continuance of the excess-profits tax. Because of this tax much capital is lost to industrial enterprises and in- stead is finding investment in nontaxable securi- ia ties. It is obvious seusit ie Guanine Uabaeaee eae Ven that lack of capital After a Conference at the White House. Franklin Roosevelt, Governor Cox, Senator Glass and Secretary Tumulty nation should not constitute them selves, separately or together, finan cial guardians of citizens. Yet we must concede that our citizens have been robbed of millions of dollars through the sale of worthless securi- ties, and recently thismarket hasen- joyed great pros perity. It is a subject that mer its attention, to say nothing of much study, be- cause there is a difference between wildeatting and the legitimate in vestment busi- ness.” ‘Now » £OV- ernor,’’ I said, ‘there seems to be some doubt whether the cost of living is of greater impor tance tothe Amer ican voter than the League of Na- tions, at least for } the purpose of his ntimate interest — : —_—_—_—_——_! Continued on Page 61

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20 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST TWO WEEKS WI

October 9,1920

By NINA WILCOX PUTNAM ILLUSTRATED ——$_<—_____.,

AY li ten, Mabel, don't you think people is all the time getting more refined?—I mean principally we toilers. Why, my folks used to be awful crude. | remember mommer taking me on Grand Street to buy shoes when I was a kid, and the salesman grabbed her arm and pulled us in by foree, and mommer never hollered for the police but left him get away with it, and he sold her on top of that rough stuff. Just think, if one of we girls was to try that on at the Paris Intime! But Broadway in the forties ain't Grand Street in the late nineties, is it, dear? Think of workin’ on that line! And what is further, Mabel, nowadays a person can’t be told by their clothe I mean mommer used to wear a shawl over her head and think nothing of it, wile picture I or you coming out in public dressed like that! Why, it couldn't be done any more than in a kimono, could it, dear? Since us downtrodden workers has begun to get ours such a thing simply wouldn't occur, that's all, though I admit everybody dressing in about the same class sometimes creates misunderstandings, like I gnd Mr. Livingston, for a sample, and me taking him for a member of that big Ritch family that you hear so much about— you know, the Noo- vaux Ritches, Because that’s about what I did take him for, didn't 1, just? Well, you tell her, morphine— » belleve me you got the dope I'll add one thing though, Mabel, and that is the be- ginning of all this trouble of mine commenced with him parking his car outside the Paris Intime, in spite of the fifteen-minute-zone sign, and then staying twenty-five minutes wile he bought them embroidered camisoles and kidded me that way 1 suppose you don't run into much of that sort of stuff over in the hardware department at Rothfelds. But in a small, refined ladies’ specialty shop like the Intime of course we get quite a lot of it. I mean fresh guys blowing in with more time than anything else to spend, and getting a girl wrong because of her being employed in such a place. \ person hadn't ought to be held accountable for what the Br MAY WILSON

When I Come in There Was a Kind of a Hush Went Over That Eating Place Like Here Comes the Bride or Something boss puts into the window display! And, anyways, it’s lady customers we expect mostly, though heaven knows plenty of them ain't, but on an average any male which enters there, usually steered by some determined wife or other, leaves all shame behind and fs about as much at their ease as a lady getting summer-weights for hubby in a haberdashery instead of the men’s department in a big store which is especially provided for such cases, But listen, Mabel! Every oncet in a wile a fresh fish will take a chance and come in for a chat, or else a blushing bridegroom gropes his way to some lingerie which he thinks will make her realize how thoughtful he is; and this class are awful good prospects, and you sure can sell them, be- cause they are generally so fussed they don’t know which way to look—or else look so many ways they get fussed. It don’t much matter which, the result is just as fatal. They never examine the quality of the goods like some women do. And if they did rub the silk between their fingers it wouldn't tell them nothing-—woman’s sense of touch is so much keener than man’s, any day in the week! Naw, gawn, I wasn't kidding! Well listen, Mabel! The day he parked there I see right at once he was a spender though alone, and as he come into the shop in that snappy suit and that at-least-twenty- dollar silk shirt, with a tie like a picture actor, and that classy car at the curb—one of them without any label and not too new, but all its insides on the outside—you know the kind of bus—real class to it; well listen, when he come in, smiling and taking off his Panama, I thought to myself, “Set him up, paper, he’s just your type,” and I give a hungry look at Mr. Ginsberg, wile keeping a languid ex- terior, being terrible afraid maybe one of the other girls would be sent. But it was my turn and my day, Isabelle having just sold Ruby Roselle three hundred and fifty mostly in gowns and so Mr. Ginsberg, having greeted the PRESTON

handsome stranger, give me the high sign in Jewish and the command courteous in English. “* Miss Pansy, will you kindly show camisoles?” says Gin. And I come forward real graceful and quietly took my place behind the transparent counter full of transparencies and went to work willingly, wile Mr. Ginsberg faded into the gray-velvet background of our chic little shop. Say listen, Mabel, that bird certainly don’t strain himself to make his money! He toils not neither does he spin, but he’s a long ways from being a lily! Meanwhile Blue Eyes snuggled down on the show case and smiled pleasantly. Not a bit fresh, not a bit fussed just perfectly natural. Our display of pretties interested him not at all. I begun to suspect this was to be about a five-year anniversary present. “*Size?"’ I murmured. “About a thirty-six,’’ he says. “Any particular color?” **Well,”” he says, “white, I guess white, don’t they?” Say listen, Mabel, would you believe it, that sort of give my heart a cold shock. You mightn’t think it possible, me never having seen this bird before. But of course if he was going to get married that was his own funeral, and I admit I hadn't any cause to expect anything else on such a short acquaintance. But, just the same, it was really more of a disappointment than if he merely had a wife. At least then a person knows what to expect. This engaged stuff is too thick. And we girls in the shops don’t get much chance to meet real nice fellows any other way exceptin’ over the counter. But I didn’t let on a thing. Instead I got down the white-camisole box and showed him some satins with worsted embroidery and a picot edge at seven dollars per cam. “Can be dry-cleaned or washed,” I says, laying out one. “Is the wedding to be soon?” “In about six weeks,” he says. very often.” Brides generally use ‘But I’m not in town = ot Se : SS ee =_—__ taf

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THE SATURDAY “Oh,” I says, “I should think she would do her own shopping!” “This is a little present,” he says. ‘She’s an economical soul—and I want her to have some silk things, whether she thinks she can afford it or not!” Now wasn’t that sweet? I hadda smile, and he come back with a flash of molars like they fake for tooth-paste pictures. “Well,” I says, “you certainly got a kind heart. You ought to make a good husband!” He just kinda laughed at that, and pulled out his roll. “Are these something she’ll be sure to like?” he asked, hesitating just a little, like so many men in his position. “Are they the very best you’ve got?” “They are,”’ I says. “‘How many?” “How many ought she to have?” How trusting some men is! But I had my duty to do by the Intime, and naturally I done it. “Oh, twelve would do,” I says carelessly. But he never batted an eyelash. You could see the money meant noth- ing to him. “Who will I send them to?” I asked. I was just dying to know what his name was, even if he was a hopeless prospect for personal affairs. Because I will admit that wile our talk had been strictly business and he hadn’t acted fresh at all, he was taking me in all right, and missing not one little item from my French pumps to the two blond curls on top of my head—not a thing, Mabel! But all in a very refined way, understand, as if realizing I was but a poor working girl and he was a engaged young swell millionaire of good family. My trap didn’t work, however. “Thanks, but I'll just take them along in the car,’ he said. “I might as well.” And that sort of closed the doorway to knowledge, d’yer see, dear? ] thought it closed all conversation as well. But wile Mr. Ginsberg was wrecking the hundred-dollar bill which the bird had peeled off a thick wad the sympathetic silence which was then between ourselves was broke by the customer. “Do you mind my speaking of it?” he says, fingering the string on his parcel. ‘‘But you remind me so much of somebody! And yet I can’t seem to remember who it is.” “Well, I'm supposed to look a whole lot like Marie La Tour, the famous motion-picture actress,"’ I admitted frankly. “And I suppose maybe I do.” “That's it!’’ he cried with his quick little smile. “Of course you do!” Then old Gin come up with the remains. The feller took them and tipped his hat to me awful nice and refined. “Thank you for helping me!” he says with a cute sort of sudden shyness. And then darted out and into his car and slipped away just as the traffic cop got a free moment to speak rudely about the parking time. Him and I watched the car get lost in the traffic, but not before we had both taken the number for future reference— Mass. X004, it was. And then wile I was tucking the slip of paper away Mr. Gins- berg come over and touched me on the arm. “Say, Miss O’Donnell, I want to make it a few wordts private conversation with you,” he says. ‘‘Come by the back part of thestore. The other girls can take care shoulda customer come in for a few moments.”’ Say listen, Mabel, you know the way it feels when the boss passes a request like that, don’t you, dear? Your conscience may be clear as a diamond, but your imagina- tion at once commences to remember mistakes on your book or about being ten minutes late the day before last. Huh? Sure it’s sickening! And I thought to myself, “You take the call, phone, he’s got your number,” but I simply swayed indifferently at him like a well- trained black-satin seal and waited for the barrage. But it didn’t come. Instead, when we got seated on the gray sofa outside the negligee show case, Gin leaned over and patted my knee with one fat paw. “Now listen, girlie,” he says. ‘‘This is already nearly August, and it’s hot here by the city. You been a good girl, Pansy, and I know it a valuable saleswoman when I seen one, which is, gewicht, seldom enough, and like a mother I would see she is well taken care of. I want you EVENING POST 21 should take it two weeks vacation with pay and be ready for the fall rush!” Say listen, Mabel, you could of knocked me dead with a feather! Here I had been thinking old Gin was a cootie, and all the time he was a bear! Ain't Nature wonderful? Whatter yer know, dear? Here I had been with the In- time only six months, and at twenty-five per had expected to do it on my own expense, if at all! And it was hot weather. I'll say it was! Especially in black satin all day. I could of kissed the old boy, only not believing in dong any business that way, I didn't. I merely nodded sweetly. ‘All right, Mr. Ginsberg, that will be very pleasant,” I says. “I appreciate this, and will make the most of it.” Well, dear, I said a second helping when I pulled that line, only I didn’t know it at the time —no, nor at. closing, either, when Mary Maloney asked me would I spend the ’s farm at Rocky Corners and I turned the proposition down cold “It’s a dandy farm,” says Mary. “Sweetest place you ever seen, with pigs and everything. They got fruit and green vegetables and mother cans all her own stuff. And two weeks down at her mother chickens and milk—gee, you better come, girlie!” “Well, if you like it so well, how'ja ever come to leave it?” I says. “Well, two weeks a year is enough,” says Mary. “By then the excitement kind of wears off.” “That's reason enough for me not coming up,” I pointed out to her. ‘‘ You see, dear, there is two ways of using a vacation, and one of them is to rest. But a person which has ambitions the same as myself will use a vacation for profit as well. I been planning what would I do if I went away, and I've decided I'd take in Narrataskett.” Say listen, Mabel, you oughter of heard Mary yell when she heard that! “Say, are you crazy or what?” she squealed. ‘That place will set you back as much cash a day as mother would charge to board you for the whole two weeks!” “ Bored is right,” I says. ‘‘ Not meaning any disrespect either. But what I intend is this, Mary: I never stayed in a first-class hotel in all my life, much less inasummer one, (Continued on Page 106) Mr. Ginsberg, Having Greeted the Handsome Stranger, Give Me the High Sign in Jewish and the Command Courteous in £ nglish

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? THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ur Commercial Relations With October 9, 1920 Canada —= By Thomas Wallker Page HAT are Canada and the United States going to do about the flourishing trade they carry on with each other? This question will soon demand seriou attention on both sides of the Border. Conditions through t 1 it the world have been so changed by the Great War that both countries ars rutinizing the term which they do business with other countries and are planning to adjust the terms to meet the change ome of the most impor tant trading nations have announced ar tention of con pletely overhauling all their treatic conventions, tariff and commercial legislation Canada and the United States hardly contemplate so radical a plan as thi but some action the must take in order to bring their regulations of commerce with other ircumstance Will the purpose of the new regulations be to encourage busine nations into accord with altere intercourse among natior to foster the interchange of goods and services, to insure Justice ind security for fair and honorable dealing? Or will it be to restrict and cor trol commerce and to subordinate to other objects of national Perhaps the truth interest such benefits as it may offer? may lie between these alternative But whatever terms Canada and the United States may offer to other nations, they are both vitally concerned in the terms on which their commerce with each other is con ducted In volume our trade with the Dominion has grown until it is second only to that we have with Great Britain. Last year nearly ten per cent of our vast exports went to her and a still greater percentage of our imports originated there. This year has seen a further increase; our pur chases from her approximated half a billion dollars and our sales to her amounted to more than eight hundred million dollars. One does not have to be Methuselah to remember when our trade with the whole world did not exceed these figures In other words, for every man, voman and-child living in Canada we bought in that country more than sixty dollars’ worth of goods and we sold Skidway of Spruce Logs. there about a hundred dollars’ worth. Nearly two-fifths of all her exports were to us and more than three-quarters of her imports came from us. For many years she has bought from us more than she has sold to us, and both purchases and sales have constantly increased The nature of this trade is no less important than its volume. Practically every industry is represented to some extent in the broad streams of commodities pouring north and south across the Border and there are some industries on both sides that flourish only in proportion as the cur rent of these streams is kept open and strong. Each coun- try depends upon the other for certain materials that cannot well be dispensed with and each has developed its production in the belief that the other would furnish a market for a substantial part of its output. In former years what we took from Canada was for the most part natural products— that is, fish, lumber, ores and minerals and agricultural produce; and we sold her in return manu- factures and such goods for consumption as her more rigorous climate did not permit her to grow. In some measure our trade still shows this character, but in di- minishing degree. More and more she is sending us, for example, leather in place of hides and skins, paper and pulp in place of the wood from which they are made, and with the aid of American capital and enterprise she is using her enormous water power to prepare for consumption many of the natural products which she once sold as raw materials. It is similarly significant that the value of the raw cotton we send her is very much greater than the value of the finished cotton cloth she takes, that she now makes more than ninety per cent of all the boots and shoes her people need instead of buying them from us and that among the most important of our exports to her are such natural products as coal and oil for her growing industries. This gradual change in the nature of our trade and the greater diversity of Canadian industries have increased instead of diminished the volume of our commerce and have strengthened rather than weakened the dependence of the two countries on each other. It would seem natural, therefore, that when we plan our new regulations we should make special efforts to keep our commercial inter- course as open as possible. There are other reasons for such efforts in addition to the value of the trade. For thousands of miles no natural boundaries separate Canada and the United States. In- deed for the most part the adjacent regions north and south of the Border are more closely connected with each other than with the regions east and west of them. It is true that proximity alone is not always a reason for removing restrictions on commerce. If it were, France would have free trade with Germany and Italy with Austria. But there are certain barriers dividing those countries that do not exist over here. In their language, business methods, laws; in their needs and tastes; in their social and religious beliefs and institutions; in race and character—the people of Canada and of the United States are as similar to each other as are the people in any section of either country to their fellow citizens in another section. In consequence, the business they carry on with each other is much more like domestic trade than it is like foreign commerce. The business boundary line between them is as artificial as the political boundary line, and no argument for free trade has ever been advanced that would not be applicable to the trade between these neighboring countries. For these reasons there have been prominent men in both countries who urged the removal of all commercial restrictions, the abolition of customhouses along the Border and complete commercial union. But there are serious difficulties in the way of such a program, and the arguments against it have weighed with the governments concerned more heavily than the arguments for it, so that free trade seems further off to-day than ever before. Perhaps the difficulties in the way of it can best be made clear by pointing out why our former approaches to it have failed. Continued on Page 53 Showing Also the Method of Scaling — = —_ ==

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\ | PRN Tae Rodzianko, had succeeded in persuading the aged THE SATURDAY EVENING POST D l il N THE beginning of 1916, though the Duma was B BAR ON ROSEN succeeded in eliminating that private war between not in session, it appears that its president, Mr. y individuals which is still tolerated in most other tw jw t's Life countries of Europe as the institution of the duel Prime Minister, Mr. Goremykin, to resign the fune- Former Ambassador From Russia to the United States there are two kinds of mental attitude in regard to tions of head of the government, for the efficient exercise of which, } | in the troubled times throug! i which the coun- try was passing, he manifestly no | longer possessed the necessary strength. He was suc- cee led by Mr. Boris Stuermer, of whom the best that could be said is that he was merely a very or- dinary function- ary of even less than average ca- pacity, who owed his sudden eleva- tion, aS appears to be well estab- lished, to the favor of Rasputin and to the influ- ence of the Em- press, to whom Rasputin had recommended him as the most worthy candi- date for the posi- tion of head of the government. Of his appoint- ment Mr. E. H. Wilcox writes in his Russia’s Ruin: It became the custom in Russia and among the Allies to speak of Stuermer as a con- vinced partisan of Germany and a deliberate traitor to his country. That view is probably a flattering one. It is more likely that he was merely an obsequious and servile functionary, whose deepest conviction was that it was pleasant and profitable to be in favor in high places and whose main political aim 4was to get as near to those places as possible. This characterization of Mr. Stuermer fits the case exactly. If the author’s allusion to Stuermer’s sus- pected German partisanship and deliberate betrayal of his own country is intended to mean that he was sus- pected of having disclosed to the enemy “most precious secrets’’—as Milyukoff is said to have asserted in a speech in the Duma, according to Mr. Wilcox—or vi having carried on secret negotiations for the conclusion of a separate peace with Germany, I can only say that in support of such suspicions, apparently entertained by Mr. Milyukoff and his political friends, from whom Entente diplomats were wont to gather theirinformation on Russian affairs, no evidence has ever been forth- coming as far as I know. But that Mr. Stuermer failed in his bounden duty, which was to have raised with our Allies the question of the necessity of the earliest possible conclusion of a general peace, is a fact to which I could, if that were necessary, bear witness myself, since I had requested and obtained an interview with him when he had be- come Minister of Foreign Affairs, replacing Sazonoff, retaining at the same time his part as Prime Minister, for the special purpose of representing to him the urgency of such a step being taken without the least delay, because that was the only possible way compatible with Russia’s honor and dignity of extricating the country from the critical position in which she had been placed by the government’s policy; and my urgent representa- tions not only had been unsuccessful but their reason and purport had apparently failed to be even understood by the new head of the Foreign Department, whom I found slightly less pompous but on the other hand even more incompetent than his predecessor in office. In connection with this so frequently ventilated subject of separate or general peace, of premature peace or peace ' & UNDE KW wew . General Wrangelt, the Anti:-Boltshevik Leader Above — The Once: Famous Fonogorijski Regi« ment, Showing the Russian Soldier of 1915 mu without victory, and of peace by negotiation as opposed to peace by dictation, I feel compelled before proceeding with my narrative to submit to my indulgent readers a few considerations of a general nature which, I hope, may help to dispel some of the prevalent misconceptions born of war psychosis and fostered by war propaganda. Leaving aside the point of view of those who rightly hold that war of whatsoever kind, whether between nations or between parties or classes within nations, is an unmitigated curse, of which mankind should and could rid itself as, in Anglo-Saxon countries at least, it has war, conflicting with each other and alternately gaining the upper hand First, there is the at titude of what | would eall the military or mili- taristically think ing mind, which looks upon war not so much asa means to an end, but rather as an end in itself, so to speak; as a game that can be won only —like a game of chess by a checkmate, be it even with the sacrifice on both sides of almost all their chessmen; a stalemate that i8 LO Say, a peace without victory being considered equivalent to a defeat, and any suggestion of the desirability of such a peace looked upon as an act of treason; or else as a prize fight that can be ended only by a knock-out blow dealt to the ad- versary. This is the mental attitude that has fathered such ideas, expressed in apparently senseless because illogical terms, as for instance the idea of a peace offensive, meaning an adversary’s proposal to enter upon negotiations for the conclusion of peace; or the idea of a premature peace as a peace concluded before a knock-out blow had been dealt or received; or the reproach of defeatism, applied to the endeavors of those who aim at preventing the final defeat and ruin of their country. Such a mentality is an atavisti« survival of the past when war was “the sport of kings”’ and could be waged for any cause and could be carried on for any length of time as long as the necessary funds could be secured in hard cash and willing cannon fodder could be hired, or, if unwilling, pressed into service; when kings considered their countries as their private domains and their subjects as human material to be utilized for any service they pleased; when kings and rulers could conclude agreements between themselves in the honest belief that they had the right to pledge the lives and honor of their subjects or their fellow citizens, and that these subjects or citizens were in duty bound to keep, at the sacrifice of their lives and for- tunes, their rulers’ engagements concluded without their knowledge and consent On the other hand, there is the attitude of what might be called the civilian mind, or the mind thinking on lines of statesmanship, preoccupied not with the idea of winning the “game” of war, or of the glory of dealing a knock-out blow to the adversary, but with the solemn duty of securing the permanent interests and welfare of the people confided to its care. This kind of men tality looks upon War as an unavoidable evil, necessar at a given stage of the mental and moral development of mankind, for the purpose of attaining certain well-defined and practically attainable ends, and is ready and willing to begin negotiations for the conclusion of peace as soon as these ends are attained or it has become evident that they cannot be attained except at the cost of sacrifice not commensurate with the advantages aimed at Both these mental attitudes, though conflicting one with the other, were, so to speak, balancing each other in former times, when wars were waged with armies of (Continued on Page 135)

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24 Vv OW the little town of Bly, which Baron Tazumi had indicated on the map with the point of his delicate forefinger, sits near the river bank and not many miles dis- tant from a busy cit Aviators, flying over 0k down on the hud le of mean bu ld ng the midst of neat quared orchards «a! Jantations, and a over they ay laptown!” and let go at that The casual Califo ian, motoring betwee his farm and the city, gets a more human view of this modern phenom enon; a transplanted race with their elfin pe culiarities — different from us, as though the people of Mars had plumped down upo America and had schooled themselves to wear American shoes or their three-legged bod ies. Superficially the town of Bly, surrounded by orchard and vine yard, differs little from the average rural vi! lage. It has a hill to give variety to its short main street, and dow: an alley sloping toward the river are still relics of the Chinese, who lived in crazy barracks until they were pushed aside by the more persistent Square-topped store fronts line the There is one dilapidated church, race main street and across the way a handsomer and more modern edifice is in the course of construction Here in Bly you wil! tind nothing of the fairy land charm, the quaint ness of composition, the age-old prettiness which we have learned to associate with Japan. The stores, it is true, are marked with the deli cate Chinese characters, which never disfigure a building as our Roman letters often do. Brown slant-eyed men in baggy overalls, rough sweaters and swampers’ boots muddy from the irriga tion ditches, come and out of the local garage small tinnish automobiles are charging noisily all day long. Little brown men sit at the wheel slouching in toward the general store. In and gossip of grease cups and gear shifts in the language of Nippon Ina vacant lot over by the railway station which fronts the main street and is, indeed, the center of the town, Japa- nese boys of sixteen practice baseball during the dull season of the year They hold their bats quaintly, but their batting aver i and they raise a greqt hullabaloo as they scramble back and forth contesting for a lofty fly. Occa- age is fair, sionally they revert to the language of the long-hair people and cry, “Rotten!” or “Line ‘er out!"’ Squatty women, leading small children and carrying smaller ones, cross the road mincingly on their turned-in toes. Most of these women are cowled under great blue sunbonnets; some of them go bareheaded beneath the leaden skies. The chil- iren are often pretty—prettiest when their gowns are of the crazy-quilt Japanese printed cotton, even though they are cut in a bad imitation of American style At the sight of a man the women bend their bodies stiffly from the waist up, accompanying the gesture with a HENRY ~~ folding of the hands and a lowering of the eyes. In Bly, California, the male is lord. Here the names of Mrs. Pank- hurst and Mrs. Blatch are never mispronounced for the very good reason that they are never mentioned. Now the strip of land known even to the Japanese as the Bly tract lies on the river verge a good sling’s shot from the town of Bly; and it was on a bright Saturday morning early in March that Mr. Shimba, Esquire, came slopping in from the fields, his boots caked with the mud of river loam. The rain god had been moderately liberal, he con- cluded, since there had been two good days of downpour, and only at dawn had the brisk north wind managed to drive the clouds away. But the ground would be too wet for working yet a while unless the dry wind con- tinued. The prune trees were budding healthfully and blossoms were appearing in the four-acre strawberry patch. It would be a fair year for him and for the strange white woman who had insisted on occupying the ranch house It was about time for the noon meal when Shimba plodded over irrigation ditches and through burgeoning orchards. He was a knotty little man with a face all puck- ered in curly lines. His front teeth protruded, giving him THE SATURDAY EVENING POST F THE § By WALLACE IRWIN ILLUSTRATE DO Br RALEIt*GuH ~ Behind the Tiny Princess a Heavy, Stedgy Japanese Woman With an Enormous Face Stood Immovable October 9,1920 the appearance of a brindle bulldog. His ears’ which were reddened with sunburn, stood out straight under his battered golf cap. Rather gracelessly he wore the mask of Asia, and through the slitlike eye- holes living fires glit- tered constantly, fed forever by his restless thoughts. He paused for breath in the wagon road and round him. Across the brownish river water the land- scape showed green as emerald, with a broad velvet-brown patch in the center, where Japa- nese farmers had been breaking soil for potato planting. Above the or- chard tip, on the near side of the stream, he could see the jig-saw architecture of the Bly farmhouse, which had lain deserted, according to contract, for many years. Soon this Ameri- can woman would be coming here to live. Probably she would be- gin by throwing money away on expensive house paint—another example of American foolishness. Shimba grunted and was about to go his heavy way when a mov- ing spot of dirty yellow, slinking among the tree trunks, caught his eye. A coyote! Shimba’s heart stood still as the cowardly little animal, keenly aware that his enemy was unarmed, stopped at a safe dis- tance to mock him with sharp eyes and lolling tongue. It was just an instant, but in that in- stant Shimba knew that the cursed animal was laughing at him. His mouth wide open, his ears peaked, he laughed the silent laugh of fiends, then disappeared as though the earth had swallowed him up. “The fox woman will come again!” said Shimba, struggling in vain with the cold fear that was in his heart. A hundred ancestors were speaking to Shimba in the voice of superstition. This animal was in- deed a fox. Now one must be poorly read in the folk lore of Yamato not to realize that the fox is a crafty beast, cun- ning in the wiles of enchantment. A demon by nature and tke friend of demons, he loves to lurk near the houses of honest people, awaiting his chance to crawl under their finger nails and possess their souls until they dream strange dreams and gibber in the voice of the fox. Shimba had cause for worry. Only last summer he had divorced his wife, Hana-san, an old woman of thirty-four. Mr. Akagashi, of the drug store, had suggested the sep- aration, justly deciding that Shimba was wasting his days with a sterile mate. Mr. Akagashi had seen to everything, drawn up the papers, engaged a lawyer, obtained a decree according to the law of the long-haired ones. Hana-san was about to be sent to So Ko, Port of Mulberries, which the long-hairs call San Francisco. But what then? The fox, enchanted devil that he is, had crept in through the window! Hadn’t Shimba heard it in the night, rattling the panes in imitation of the north wind? Hadn’t-he heard Hana-san talking strangely in her corner? Hadn’t hestruck a light to find her huddled on the floor, squeaking and gibbering in the voice of the fox? looked as a

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ia | PFS TFA: THE SATURDAY EVENING POST It had been an embarrassing situation for Shimba to dis- cover the woman whom he had just divorced mad as a hat- ter and unwilling to quit his premises. But the able Mr. Akagashi and the elegant Mr. Oki had taken the matter in hand for him and shipped Hana-san to the city, where she had been put in the care of a very wise woman, expert in the driving out of foxes. The former Mrs. Shimba had earned her keep as dishwasher in an American restaurant. That arrangement had been satisfactory enough, but only yesterday the rumor had reached Shimba that his divorced wife had been seen lurking in the outskirts of Bly. “She must be here,”’ thought Shimba, his wiry hair bristling as he recalled the triumphant look in the coyote’s face leering at him through the trees. At last he shuffled on toward his unpainted shack, and his restless eyes were snapping, snapping as he walked. He had irons in the fire, many and hot. Would the baneful fox again interfere with his plans? The house which he approached was shedlike in its sim- plicity, built of pine boards, neatly shingled and with a four-paned window on each side. The earth before the door had been trampled flat, and its Spartan sterility was scarcely relieved by a row of iris plants budding along the crude foundation. Ata far corner, under the house, a stone- lined cavern yawned, vomiting charcoal and burnt twigs. This was the furnace which heated the bath box within, where the Shimba family and the Matsu family were wont to take their evening soak-all in the same water, Shimba coming first and the others following in the order of their importance. Matsu, his partner, stood with his wife and three of his children in the little space outside, and though they said nothing, Shimba knew as though he had been told what awaited him within. Their silence meant the presence of the fox woman, his former wife, who must never be referred to as different from the others of earth. Bracing himself for the ordeal, he entered the dirt- floored room. He stood for an instant, his eyes still blinded by sunlight. The bare-board room with its rough table and homemade benches seemed at first deserted. His eye Shimba's Heart Stood Stiil. discerned the rice bin near the wall and the jars of shoyu on the shelf —familiar objects, all. It was in a far corner, where the open-fronted stove of clay and stones supported the family rice kettle, that Shimba saw her squatting on the floor. She did not look up. Patiently, one at a time, she fed twigs to the coals so that they would glow without a blaze. Shimba’s heart stood still. The fox woman, utterly disre- garding her changed status, had come back to cook his meals! “ Hana-san!” Shimba spoke hesitantly, do what he would to steady his voice. His divorced wife looked up, causing him to glance swiftly away lest the fox should master him also. Her face was white as a leper’s. Gray hair straggled down her cheeks, and her eyes held the troubled look of the insane. “‘Hana-ko,” he persisted in an endearing tone lest he annoy the fox within her, “‘honorably deign to return to Akagashi-san, who will transport you safely away.” “T hear, Most Honorable,” she replied, bending toward the dirt floor. “You have forgotten your house, Hana,” he went on, seeing that she made no move to go. “Do I live no longer here?”’ she asked in the new voice which she had taken since her madness. “‘T shall see that Mr. Akagashi takes you safely back to the wise woman, who is your friend.” “My friend—yes.” Much to Shimba’s relief, his discarded wife rose and waddled out through the open door, a shapeless creature, gray and terrible, with uncombed hair and dragging skirt. Matsu and his family came in as soon as the bewitched one had gone. Shimba dared not follow her. He soothed himself with the assurance that Akagashi’s assistants would be kind to her and send her away as soon as she appeared in the village. Yet the episode had unnerved him and cast a cloud across the brilliant pleasures he had planned for the afternoon. On the rough board table by the window places had been laid for four; bowls for rice and tea, plates for fish, to ” little dishes of shoyu sauce and chopsticks—the latter brown with use, not unsplit, and cased with paper, as they are found in fashionable restaurants Matsu, who was younger and handsomer than Shimba, read the Japanese papers, while his wife attended the rice kettle. Shimba went into an inner room and prepared to shave. It was a chacs of a room, but he was accustomed to that. Since his separation from his wife Mrs. Matsu had taken to piling superfluous household goods on the sleep ing platform where at night his mat was spread. An infant’s gocart, a broom, a pile of Japanese magazines, a sewing machine, a bundle of soiled clothes and one of the multicolored batwing kites which the Japanese childre: love to fly—these and innumerable other cluttering things were strewn from platform to floor Shimba took a safety razor from his trunk, lathered and proceeded to shave; but the blade had scarce passed across hisstubbly chin when Matsuenteredsmilingly. The Matsus and their four children slept in the room beyond, but Matsu’s social hours were spent with Shimba. Whom, otherwise, could he talk to? “So you are going somewhere?” he asked, viewing the unusual preparations of his successor in management. “To the city,” declared Shimba. ““Ah”’—Matsu came a little closer, and his eyes wer wide with curiosity —‘“‘then it is a great occasion.” ** And let me tell you, Matsu-san,”’ said Shimba throug} his lather, ‘‘you also will shave and dress yourself cers moniously. I have need of your superior knowledge this afternoon.” “So? And what can my poor ability do for you “You must know, Matsu-san, that I have married again.” “That I have been told,”” admitted Matsu. “But I have never been permitted to see the honorable photograph of your lady.” “T shall show you.” Shimba, who had finished wiping his chin, opened his trunk again and brought two photographs from its flimsy (Continued on Page 93 The Fox Woman, Utterty Disregarding Her Changed Status, Had Come Rack a OO En

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26 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST au OW are you making out, Newton?” he asked calmly. ‘‘ Denny? Why, God bless me, boy, I’m glad to 7 How’s your dad?” “ Reading.” “That would be like him. I don’t suppose if hellopenedunder his feet he’d do anything except look interested. And it ‘pears to me’s though hell had opened up right now!” Achucklecame from the chart table. “What's your idea of hell, New- ton?’’ asked Cunningham “Anything you might have a hand in,”’ was the return bolt. n ‘“*‘Why, you used tolike me!”’ “Yes, yes! But I didn’t know you then. The barom- eter’s dropping. If it was August I'd say we were nosing into a typhoon. I always hated this yellow muck they call a sea over here. Did you pick up that light?” “Yes, sir.” answered the wheelman. “I take it she’s making south—Hong-Kong way. There's plenty of sea room. She'll be well down before we cross her wake.” Silence except for the rumble of the weather canvas standing up against the furious blasts of the wind. Den- nison stepped over to the chart table. “Cunningham, I would like to have a word with you.” “Go ahead. You can have as many as you like.’ “At dinner you spoke of your word.” “So I did. What about it?” “Do you keep it?” “Whenever I humanly can. Well?” “What's this Catwick Island?” “Hanged if I know!” “Are you going to maroon us there?’ “No, At that point the yacht will be turned back to your father, and he can cruise until the crack o' doom without further interference from yours truly.” “That's your word?” “It is—and I will keep it. Anything else? “Yes. I will play the game as it lies, provided that Miss Norman is in nowise interfered with or annoyed,” ** How is she taking it?” “My reply first.” “Neither I nor the crew will bother her. She shall come and go free as the gull in the air. If at any time the men do not observe the utmost politeness toward her you will do me a favor to report to me. That's my word, and I promise to keep it, even if I have to kill a man or two. I wish to come through clean in the hands so far as your father, Miss Norman and yourself are concerned. I'm risk ing my neck and my liberty, for this is piracy on the high seas But every man is entitled to one good joke during his lifetime, aad when we raise the Catwick I'll explain this joke in full. If you don’t chuckle, then you haven't so much as a grain of humor in your make-up.” “Well, there’s nothing for me to do but take your word as you give it.’ “That's the way to talk lagoon The voice dropped into a low, indistinguishable murmur. Dennison realized that the moment had come to depart; the edge of the encounter was in Cunningham’s favor, and to remain would only serve to sharpen this edge. So he went outside, slamming the door behind him. The word of a rogue! There was now nothing to do but turn in. He believed he had a glimmer. Somewhere off the Catwick Cunningham and his crew were to be picked up. He would not be going to the Catwick himself, not see you! A Shadow in the Deerway Broke in Upon This Musing é ” Now, Flint, this bay or LLU STRATE DO BY Ww. H#. D. knowing whether it was jungle or bald rock. But if a ship was to pick him up, why hadn’t she made Shanghai and picked him up there? Why commit piracy—unless he was a colossal liar, which Dennison was ready enough to be- lieve. The word of a rogue! Some private war? Was Cunningham paying off an old grudge? But was any grudge worth this risk? The old boy wasn’t to be seared; Cunningham ought to have known that. If Cleigh came through with a whole skin he’d hunt the beggar down if it carried him to the North Pole. Cunningham ought to have known that too. A planted crew, piracy —and he, Dennison Cleigh, was even- tually to chuckle over it! He had his doubts. And where did the glass beads come in? Or had Cunningham spoken the truth—a lure? A big game somewhere in the offing. And the rogue was right! The world, dizzily stewing in a caldron of monumental mistakes, would give scant atten- tion to an off-side play such as this promised to be. Nota handhold anywhere to the puzzle. The old boy might have the key, but Dennison Cleigh could not go to him for the solution. His own father! Just as he had become used to the idea that theseparation was final, absolute, to be thrown together in this fantastic manner! The father’s arm under his neck and the cup at his lips had shaken him profoundly. But Cleigh would not have denied a dog drink had the dog exhibited signs of thirst. So nothing could be drawn from that. Morning. Jane opened her eyes, only to shut them quickly. The white brilliancy of the cabin hurt. Across the ceiling ran a constant flicker of silver—reflected sun- shine on the water. Southward—they were heading south- ward. She jumped out of bed and stepped over to the port. Flashing yellow water, a blue sky and far off the oddly ribbed sails of a Chinese junk laboring heavily in the big sea that was still running. Glorious! She dressed hur- riedly and warmly, bundling her hair under a velours hat and ramming a pin through both. “Denny?” she called. There was no an- swer. He was on deck, probably. “I Promised You That We'd Come Through With Clean Heels. Something Has Hap« ° pened Which We Could Not Forestali"’ October 9,1920 PAGAN MADONNA By HAROLD MACGRATH An odd scene awaited her in the main salon. Cleigh Senior stood before the phonograph listening to Caruso. The roll of the yacht in nowise disturbed the mechanism of the instrument. There was no sudden sluing of the needle, due to an amateurish device which Cleigh himself had constructed. The son, stooping, was searching the titles of a row of new novels. The width of the salon stretched between the two. “Good morning, everybody!” There was a joyousness in her voice she made not the least attempt to conceal. She was joyous, alive, and she did not care who knew it. Dennison acknowledged her greeting with a smile, a smile which was a mixture of wonder and admiration. How in the world was she to be made to understand that they were riding a deep-sea voicano? “Nothing disturbed you through the night?” asked Cleigh, lifting the pin from the record. “Nothing. I lay awake for an hour or two, but after that I slept like a log. Have I kept you waiting?” “No. Breakfast isn’t quite ready,’’ answered Cleigh. ““What makes the sea so yellow?” “All the big Chinese rivers are mud-banked and mud- bottomed. They pour millions of tons of yellow mud into these waters. By this afternoon, however, I imagine we'll be nosing into the blue. Ah!” “Breakfast iss served,”’ announced Togo the Jap. The trio entered the dining salon in single file, and once more Jane found herself seated between the two men. One moment she was carrying on a conversation with the father, the next moment with the son. The two ignored each other perfectly. Under ordinary circumstances it would have been strange enough; but in this hour, when no one knew where or how this voyage would end! A real tragedy or some absurd trifle? Probably a trifle; trifles dug more pits than tragedies. Perhaps tragedy was mis- named. What humans called tragedy was epic, and trifles were real tragedies. And then there were certain natures to whom the trifle was epical; to whom the inconsequent was invariably magnified nine diameters; and having made a mistake, would die rather than admit of it. To bring these two together, to lure them from behind their ramparts of stubbornness, to see them eventually shake hands and grin as men will who recognize that they have been playing the fool! She became fired with the idea. Only she must not move prematurely; there must arrive some psychological moment. During the meal, toward the end of it, one of the crew entered. He was young—in the early twenties. The man- ner in which he saluted convinced Dennison that the fellow had recently been in the United States Navy. KOERNER

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Another salite and he was off. “Well, that’s decent enough,” was Dennison’s comment. “That chap ha been in the Navy. It’s all miles over my head, I'll confess. Cunnihgham spoke of a joke when I accosted him in the chart house last night.” “You went up there?” cried Jane. “Yes. And among other things he said that every man is entitled to at least one good joke. devil can he mean by that?” Had he been looking at his father Dennison would have caught a fleeting, grim, shadowy smile on the strong mouth. “You will find a dozen new novels on the shelves, Miss Norman,” said Cleigh as he rove a be on deck. I generally walk two or three miles in the morning. “Let us hang together this day to test the scala- wag’s promise.” “Mr. Cleigh, when you spoke of reparation last night, you weren’t thinking in monetary terms, were you?” Cleigh’s brows lowered a trifle, but it was the effect of puzzlement. “ Because,” she proceeded gravely, ‘all the money you possess would not compen- sate me for the position you have placed me in.” “Well, perhaps I did have money in mind. However, I hold to my word. Any- thing you may ask.” “Some day I will ask you for something.” “* And if humanly possible I promise to give it,”’ and with this Cleigh took leave. Jane turned to Dennison. “It is so strange and in- comprehensible! You two sitting here and ignoring each other! Surely you don’t hate your father?” “T have the greatest re- spect and admiration for him. To you no doubt it seems fantastic; but we un- derstand each other thor- oughly, my father and I. I'd take his hand instantly, God knows, if he offered it! But if I offered mine it would be glass against dia- mond—I’d only get badly scratched. Suppose we go on deck? The air and the sunshine es “But this catastrophe has brought you together after all these years. Isn’t there something providential in that?” “Who can say?’ On deck they fell in be- hind Cleigh, and followed him round for fully an hour; then Jane signified that she was tired, and Dennison put her in the center chair and wrapped the rug about her. He selected the chair at her right. Jane shut her eyes, and Dennison opened a novel. was good reading, and he became partially absorbed. The sudden creak of a chair brought his glance round. father had seated himself in the vacant chair. The phase that dug in and hurt was that his father made no endeavor to avoid him—simply ignored his existence. He laid the book on his knees and stared at the rocking horizon. One of the crew passed. Cleigh hailed him. Seven years, and not a crack in the granite! ““Send Mr. Cleve to me.” “Tos, ar.” The air and the tone of the man were perfectly respectful. When Cleve, the first officer, appeared his manner was solicitous, “Are you comfortable, sir?’ “*Would ten thousand dollars interest you?”’ said Cleigh directly. “ ° ’ ° . ’ Mr. Cunningham’s compliments, sir. Canvas has been rigged on the port promenade and chairs and rugs set out.” the It His perhaps ten. “Yes, sir. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST “If you mean to come over to your side, no. wouldn’t be worth a snap of the thumb. You know some- thing about Dick Cunningham. truth is, Mr. Cleigh, we’re off on a big gamble, and if we win out ten thousand wouldn’t interest me. will be exactly as it was before you put into Shanghai. More I am not at liberty to tell you.” ‘How far is the Catwick?” “Somewhere round two thousand—eight or nine days, We’re not piling on—short of coal. “Thank You for Coming Up,"* Said Cunningham. “It Makes Me Feet That You Trust Me"’ mighty difficult to get it for a private yacht. You may not find a bucketful in Singapore. commandeer it, having ships and coal mines of your own The drop down to Singapore from the Catwick is about forty hours. You have coal in Manila. for it.” “You are honestly leaving us at that island?” You can, if you wish, take the run up to Saigon; but your chance for coal there is nil.”’ I know him well. Life on board In America you can always You can cable Cleve turned chuckle became “What can t Jane excitedly away, chuckling; a dozen feet off this boisterous laughter. hey be after? Sunken treasure?” cried ‘“* Hangman’'s hemp—if I live long enough,” was the grim declaration, and Cleigh drew the rug over his knees “But it can’t be anything dreadful if they can laugh over it!” “Did you ev ningham is a qu flashes of some art treasure Japan by the \ sion ome ro take out of the Tibet for a lam: er hear Mephisto laugh in Faust? Cun- eer duck. I don't suppose there’s a corner on the globe he hasn't had a peek at He has a vast knowledge of the art His real name nobody seems to know. He can make him- elf very likable to men and attractive to women. The sort of women he seeks do net mind his physical de formity. His face and his intellect draw them, and he isas cruelasa wolf. Itnever occurred to me until last night that men like me create his kind. But I don’t understand him in this in- stance. A play like this, with all the future risks! After I get the wires mov ing he won't be able to stir a hundred miles in any di- rection.” ‘But solongas he doesn't intend to harm us—and I'm convinced he doesn't per haps we'd better play the game as he asks us to.” “Miss Norman,” said Cleigh in a tired voice, “ will you do me the favor to ask Captain Dennison why he ! never touched the twenty thopsand I depos- ited to his account?” Astonished, Jane turned to Dennison to repeat the question, but was fore- stalled. “Tell Mr. Cleigh that to touch a dollar of that money would be a tacit admission that Mr. Cleigh had the right to strike Captain Den nison across the mouth.” Dennison swung out of the chair and strode off to ward the bridge, his shoul ders flat and his neck stiff “You struck him?” de manded Jane impulsively But Cleigh did not an swer Hi eyes were closed, his head rested against the back of the chair; so Jane did not pre the question It was enough that she had seen behind a corner of thi peculiar veil. And oddly, he felt quite as much pity for the father as for the son A wall of pride, Alpine high, and neither would force a passage! j They did not see the arch rogue during the day, but he came in to dinner. He was gay—in a story-telling mood. There was little or no banter, for he spoke only to Jane, and gave her » of his amazing activities in search of I] had once been chased up and dow: likado’s agents for having in his posse ] al-silk tapestry which it is forbidden to country Another time he had gone into i's ghost mask studded with raw emerald and turquoise, and had suffered untold miseries in getting down into India “as a woman, ant which hung in Avain he had entered a Rajput haremlik 1 eventually escaped with the fabulous rug the salon Adventure, adventure, and death always at his elbow! There wa gart in the man; he recounted his tale nothing of the brag after the manner of “Cleve,” said Cleigh solemnly, ‘‘you appreciate the risks you are running?” “Mr. Cleigh, there are no risks. It’s a dead certainty Cunningham is one of your efficiency experts. Every- thing has been thought of.” “Except fate,”” supplemented Cleigh “Fate? Why, she’s our chief engineer!” a boy relating some college escapades, deprecatingly. Often Jane stole a glance at one or the » other of the Cleighs. She was con tantly swung between—but never touched—the desire to laugh and the desire this tragedy, which seemed so futile Continued on Page 77) » to weep over

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28 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 All Newsdealers. By Subscription: —$2.5¢ the Year, Remittances from outside the United States proper to be by U.S Money Order or Draft, payable ia U.S. funds, on @ bank in the U. § To Caneda—lRy Subscription, $1.75 the Year. Single Copies, Ten Cents Forelyn Subscriptions: For Countries in the Postal Union. Subscriptions, $6.00 the Year. Kemittances to be by Draft on a bank in the U. S., payable in U.S. funds PHILADELPHIA, OCTOBER Q, 1920 The One Big Boss OST men, who vote leave the polls in a glow of self- M righteous satisfaction. They have exercised the privi- lege of a freeman, though in doing so they may have shackled themselves for another four years to outgrown systems and outworn methods. If they find that their candidates do not stand for the things for which they fondly hoped they did, they fatuously decide that their only chance to better the situation is to wait four years and then to “turn the rascals out.” This is because they have come to regard the act of voting as the sum total of their duty toward their Government, whereas it is only one fixed point in a chain of education, organization and co- le and follow voting. operation that must both prece Education is by far the most important step toward the polling place, because we can have neither purposeful organization nor intelligent codperation until we know what we want and why we want it Both presidential candidates started their campaigns by talking too much about London, Paris and Rome and not enough. about New York, Chicago and San Francisco; too much about Russia, Poland and Czechoslovakia and not enough about our manufacturers and workmen in the East and our farmers and merchants in the West; too much about the money that is being voluntarily con- tributed by citizens for campaign purposes and too little about that which is being wrung from them involuntarily by taxation; too much about the venerated Fathers of the Republic and not enough about the next cabinet. We concede that discussion of the League is important and that the as does almost everyone in the country, limelight should be kept on campaign contributors, but the candidates have fully expressed themselves on these ques tions. Now we crave more exact information on certain other subjects of major importance. Pri are inflated, business is being throttled, conditions are unsettled, owing in large part to our present system of taxation. We read that all steerage accommodations are sold out until Feb- ruary; that from Italy alone a million men are preparing to emigrate to America; that until they can get passage, barracks are being built to house the horde of Polish Jews that is planning to descend on us. What are the exact views of our candidates, just what concrete recommenda- tions are they prepared to make on taxation— including the reorganization of the government departments along business lines—on immigration and on Americanization? Our manufacturers want more labor, but for the sake THE SATURDAY EVENING POST of the quick dollar should they be permitted to have labor that has been educated in communism and taught that the true doctrine of salvation has been proclaimed in holy Russia? Immigrants bring not only muscle but ideas that are the outgrowth of European conditions. Unfortu- nately, their first contacts here are too often with fellow countrymen who make a profession of miseducating them about American conditions and institutions. Until we are as much interested in teaching the truth about these things as the professional red is in poisoning the minds of credu- lous newcomers we are better off without an influx of low-grade immigrants. We should like to know just where Mr. Cox and Mr. Harding stand on this question. It takes a courageous man to risk antagonizing a racial vote, but only a cour- ageous man is fit to be the next President of the United States. While all this self-determination is in the air this country should determine to be American. It is time to put out the pussyfooters and to bar the front door against suspicious characters. We have had and still have a persistent notion that our Government is a concern apart from our daily lives, or at least something too big and too remote to be influenced by the wish and the action of the individual. Perhaps if we get it in our heads that Government is the one big boss; that it finally regulates our pay, our pleasures and our spending; that if those who want good government and a businesslike administration will get together in a mass play they can win—we shall begin to give politics a place on our daily calendar, instead of regarding Election Day as another holiday, like Christmas, on which we pick out our rulers with as little care and judgment as we show in selecting presents for the cop or the iceman. We expect women to wake up and to become a real factor in our political life sooner than the rank and file of our business men. In her clubs, woman already has a potential instrument for political education and organiza- tion. She is the custoeian of the pay envelope and of the home. She does the spending and the skimping. When Bill is short on Saturday night she wants to know. When she discovered how large a part the saloon played in that shortage she went after it, and though she did not have the vote it was woman who really “got” the saloon. When she figures out how much Bill’s income has been cut by direct taxation, how much the purchasing power of their money has been decreased by indirect taxation, to what extent the present system is responsible for the shortage of houses, how it is curtailing the expansion of business and so of wider opportunity for Bill—she will coéperate with a broom. When she investigates conditions and finds out to what an extent our old immigration laws and our failure to Americanize aliens have lowered our standards and jeopardized our institutions she will coéperate with an ax. In last week's number of THE SATURDAY EVENING Post Charles G. Dawes, who has had much experience in and contact with the government service, expressed what we believe to be a great truth—or rather half a great truth. He stated that only the President of the United States can set in motion the machinery necessary to the reorganiza- tion of our government business. That is true, but it is also true that only the people of the United States can keep that machinery moving. No President and cabinet, no matter how willing, can break the line-up of tradition, habit and inertia, unless backed up by the people. The next President may lift the lid of the sarcophagus, as did Taft, but he will need the help of many men who are not afraid of ghosts and bogies to rattle the dry bones and to clean out the tomb. Company in the cemetery is very reassuring to a man. This is an example of what we mean when we say that education, organization and coéperation are as important after as before the election. No matter how capable and well-intentioned a President and Congress we elect, they cannot accomplish the big things to be done without an informed, fearless and determined public behind them— and not very far behind them. During the past year THE SATURDAY EVENING Post has published a good many articles about the business of our Government, and we have tried to see that these articles October 9,1920 were based on the Congressional Record, the testimony given before congressional committees, and the experi- ences of men who are or who have been in the government service. In their candid moments these men are very candid indeed. Now the men in the Washington departments run just about like the rest of us—just as honest and patriotic, and just as human. They are at once masters of and slaves to a system that cannot be changed except by outside pres- sure. They are running absolutely true to human nature, behaving exactly as any group of men would behave in any corporation under the same set of circumstances. We have many devoted public servants, doing fine, unselfish and constructive work, but the fact remains that the mass of testimony shows the need for a change in the system. Practically all the men in the Government acknowledge this of some of the departments, and some of them of all the departments. The exception is usually their own work. Every corporation head who has tried to reorganize his business along lines of higher efficiency knows how diffi- cult it is, when he starts in to adopt the latest methods and machinery, to overcome the inertia of his old employees and their will to stick to the old ways. They are suspicious of and instinctively up in arms against innovation. Often the oldest and in a sense the most loyal employees of the house fight hardest against change. They put back their ears and surreptitiously land a kick on the new idea when- ever they can. They fear the loss of jobs from the consoli- dation and simplification of operations, of their prestige and power in a tighter organization. Even more, the boss goes up against a certain laziness that is inherent in most of us, an unwillingness to change our fixed habits, whether they relate to rum, tobacco, play or work. Reorganization of the business means a lot of trouble for the boss and it engenders hard feeling that he could very well do without. But he knows that his stockholders are keeping a close eye on his methods and results and are behind him in every proper measure that looks to the betterment of either. Also there is small formality and no delay in firing the head of a private corporation who is not bigger than any office and factory system. We have had Presidents, like Taft, plenty of progressive congressmen, many able department heads, who wanted and fought for a budget system and a better coérdinated and organized system of government departments, but they have never had a united and insistent public behind them. Until the voters get on the job and stay on the job, not quadrennially but daily, the blame for inaction will rest with them. It is their Government and their money, and it is their daily concern just as much as the house- keeping and the office or the factory. From the very nature of government it can never be so closely organized nor so efficiently managed as private business. That is why we want just as little public owner- ship and just as little government control as possible. Any government that assures protection, justice and equality of opportunity to its citizens has performed ali its proper functions. Government can never be so elastic nor offer the same incentives as private business, but its machinery can at least be modernized and simplified by cutting out operations and men. Then those that remain can be given more responsibility and more pay. It should not take a very sharp man to understand that in any business, public or private, overmanned means underpaid. One reason why it is so difficult to start any- thing in Washington is that about the only rewards the government service offers are sureness of place and a cer- tain petty prestige and authority, very dear to small minds, for the pay of the average employee is low. There is a well-grounded fear that in any attempt to make gov- ernment methods and practices conform more closely to those of modern business these compensatory factors will be the first things disturbed and curtailed. But for those who remained in the service there could be better pay and larger opportunity. We wish that our newspapers would cut out one column of the daily divorce or murder scandal—we could very well have spared some of the Elwell stuff, for instance—and devote that space to a clear, intelligent nonpartisan story ee ae i a = —_ =

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following and explaining the measures under consideration by Congress, both on the floor and in committee; of the plans and the work of the departments—an informed exposition of the business of government as it is transacted from day to day. As it is, the newspapers give us lots of Washington stuff: snappy and scrappy stories; sensational speeches and partisan politics; fragments of this, that and the other—the whole a confused jumble of men, events and opinion. We defy anyone to get a really intelligent idea of what is going on in Washington or of the legislation before Congress from his daily newspaper. What readers want and need is a clear, consecutive story of the work of their Government. We wish, in local political clubs to consider and to discuss public too, that the men voters would get together men, questions and legislation, bringing their conclusions on matters of general concern—not personal grab and petty selfishness before their local, state and national representative and if that does not get results, again bringing these conclusions to their attention at the polls, The women, we believe, have the disposition to do this very kind of education, organization thing. It is only by thi and coéperation that the ballot can be made an effective instrument for good government. Agencies that are working against American ideas and institutions are following this line of procedure in the back- conducting campaigns of plausible misrepresenta- same way that the devil repeats the Lord’s Prayer ward tion; working through organization toward destruction, exerting pressure on officials and politicians, overlooking no means to their ends. Insignificant minorities gain though they are, they are becoming stronger daily through their ceaseless and almost wholly un- contradicted propaganda. By reason of their close organization and the massed pressure that they bring to gradually becoming bear they are formidable factors in our political life. The great majority of Americans vho love their country and believe in its institutions seem either too in- different, too busy or too divided by unimportant and meaningless THE SATURDAY EVENING POST differences to get together and fight solidly for America, Where Nero American ideas and American horse sense. played the fiddle, we play the fool. Salesmanship HIS is a short course for politicians. Its object is to acquaint them with modern methods. This is a prac- The art of salesmanship is seven parts knowledge of human nature. tical age, skilled in the art of salesmanship. It is essential to know something about one’s wares, but it is even more essential to know something about the needs, desires and peculiarities of one’s customer. If a traveling salesman should stride into a buyer’s office, visibly rocking on his feet under the strain of his own importance, introduce himself in the tone of voice the umpire uses when announcing the batteries for the day, and begin the solemn delivery of catch phrases that were old when government by the people was an experiment, would the buyer feel an itch to place an order?) He would not. He would feel an itch to pick up an inkwell and park it just south of the traveling salesman’s ear. Or if the traveling salesman should breeze in like a young cyclone on a holiday, greet the buyer as one greets a long- lost brother, and while holding his hand in a firm if sticky grip favor him with a Number Ten stage smile.and coo soft words, would he get an order? Not by several rows of apple trees. He would get the grand bounce. Or yet again, if the traveling salesman should step in briskly, fairly oozing efficiency, introduce himself in the orthodox way, show samples, and then launch a sneering and insulting attack on the wares of a rival house, would he THE HUNGER-+STRIKERS made it before the Not buyer got the outer door open make an impression? unless he This is a practical age, and business efficiency demands courtesy, common sense and common honesty He is trying The politician is or should be a salesman to sell himself and his ideas, if any. If he would put the sale through he must learn the art There was a day when a glib tongue, a moist handclasp and a cheap cigar would turn the trick, but the dear peepul have cut their eyeteeth. They have discovered that gov They haughty airs, and they are weary unto death of the gooey ernment is a business are tired of mouth work and handshake and the sticky smile As a rule the politician isn’t a business man. His sok business is being an important citizen He has litth acquaintance with straightforward business methods, for in the past he has been able to get results by arranging a few little details off rousing cheers before taking tage and telling the boys to give three An autocratic power has assurance of life so long as it } delivers prosperity in peace and victory in war. So the old game of politics had assurance of life so long as it used the soft pedal, played in luck, and kept the people thinking about their private affairs. The terrible event that taught the people to know their worth and responsibility as Amer icans taught them also to brush aside pretty phrases and magnificent airs and take a good look at the politician And the thing they and thirst for a new deal. behind them. aw makes them hunger The politician who pulls the old stuff in the old way this year is all booked up for a perpetual run in the discard unless his opponent chances to be another pea out of the ame pod, and in that case the pe ople will have no hope until after election except in prayer. Good salesmanship is half the battle, but even the best of salesmen will fall down if they carry a shoddy line.

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30 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST [ral HEN the Blackbarn En graving Com pany absorbed young Phil Blaeckbarn along with the other asset and liabilities of the business, they boughta pig in a poke that turned out to bea runt To be sure he was no runt phy cally, but as a commercial proposi tion he wasn’t wort! the power expended each day by the eleva torin conveying him to the tenth floor of the Graphic Crafts Build ng “Young man,” said Joe Haggerty, the com pany’s manager, “I’m tumped. I don’t know what todowith you. I have to admit you're a total loss.” ‘*Them’s words, Nell,” ob erved Philip flippantly. “Not half so harsh as I could make 'em if I let my language fit the situation. My Lord, to think you're John Blackbarn's boy! It just isn’t believable! harsh Doesn't seem as if a square man like Joh: wouldeverhavewished such a lemon on u Gosh,weneverdid any thing like that to him! You'd think he we trying to wreak a hor rible vengeance for some real or fancied wrong.” “Say, Haxyerty, | don't have to stand here and listen to that sort of thing,” said young Blackbarn a trifle hotly wey it weren't about twice as big as you I'd be in- clined to punch your head,” “Probably. I dare , d say that kind of thing is would be most likely to enter your type of bean.” There are several words in the system of sounds courteously re ferred to as the king's English—-though why blame the poor king? — the mere pro nunciation of which is equivalent to a declaration that a state of war exists between the pronouncer and the target of the pronouncement “I dare say” is such an expres sion, when given a well-calculated fighting inflection; and, as you will perceive on second inspection, Haggerty’s name was Haggerty The Runt ever since he had heen there was he'd been called the Runt round the hop ix feet, three inches tall and entitled to wear a large, spreading letter on the chest of his sweater—a Y or an H or a C or something indicating talents that have no especial utility in the en- graving business, unless you are about to lick the boss His reaction to the peculiar tone in which Haggerty said “I dare say”’ resulted in the shooting of a bulky fist in the direction of Haggerty'’s jaw. Haggerty had been standing by his desk. He removed his jaw from the path of the ist, and the fist passed his ear so swiftly it swished. Haggerty was a good little man on his feet and a quick one with his hands, and “Goodness graciou It wus Miss Gilfred, Haggerty'’s steno, who had popped through his private-office door just as the Runt’s fist got started. She made the remark in a shrill little squeal of surprise which was not quite a scream. Haggerty checked ‘ EE RUNT He Fett Oddly Light«Hearted. rLeELUVU SF TRATES DO di Be the Roland he had planned to exchange for the Runt’s Oliver and stepped back. The Runt recovered his balance looking utterly ashamed of himself. Miss Gilfred treated the combatants to a frown of amazed disapproval. ‘| -1—beg your pardon, Miss Gilfred,”’ stuttered Phil. “I was Mr. Haggerty was showing me how Carpentier “Aw, can the guff!" snapped Haggerty. ‘ Miss Gilfred, I forgot I'd just rung for you. I'll send for you presently. Thanks.” Miss Gilfred disappeared, and the Runt gazed fatuously at the door she closed behind her. “That was a nice exhibition!” said Haggerty. “I guess it was. I’m sorry, Haggerty, but you irritated me. Miss Gilfred came near losing the services of a kind and ever considerate employer, I'll say.” “Irritated you, did 1? I wonder if you have any idea how much you've irritated me ever since we made that fool contract with your father.” “Oh, I don’t know. Probably I have bothered you a lot. But honestly, Haggerty, this isa rotten place to work.” “How do you know? You never tried it.” “Why don’t you fire me?” Phil grinned. “You know good and well why I don’t. But I'd like to. That was where your father slipped one over.” we were I'm sorry Br A RTH UR D. The Wortd Looked to be His Oyster—an Oyster He Was About to Devour October 9,1920 By HENRY PAYSON DOWST FULLER Probably the late John Blackbarn hadn’t realized to just how serious an extent he had slipped one over when a short time be- fore his passing he had sold Haggerty and his associates his own in- terest in the big Black- barn Engraving Com- pany. John had been a picture wood engraver, one of the survivors of a fine old craft, a man who had spent his youth as anapprentice, scratching boxwood on a little round pad of worn leather. When photo-engrav- ing and process work superseded the old hand-engraved blocks Blackbarn had moved along at the head of the procession, among the first to discard old methods and profit by the new. In his latter years he had counted upon an easier life, and so had retired from ac- tive business. But he had _ stipulated with Haggerty and the others that in view of the ratherfavorable ar- rangement by which they took over the business they must guarantee young Philip Blackbarn a job at forty dollars a week for at least five years, and it had been John’s hope that his son would long before that time qualify for a good deal more money. Of course it hadn’t occurred to him that Phil wouldn’t be worth a tenth of forty dollars, and it hadn't occurred to the purchasers of the busi- ness that a son of John Blackbarn could be sucha disappointment. : basset gig It was Phil’s all- “Seer round good-for-noth- ; “« ingness that more than anything else jus- tified his pseudonym of the Runt. “Well,” said Philip, “‘vou've got nothing on me. See what he handed me—a job at a small salary, when he might have left me the money the Baptist orphan- age got. You can bet you'd never have been bothered with me if he hadn’t thought more of Y The Runt checked himself. He had decency enough to refrain from open criticism of a man to whom he knew in his heart he owed nothing less than the deepest respect. “‘T used to hope for your father’s sake you'd pull through your puppy days, and after busting up a reasonable amount of property settle down and show some sense. We were all fond of your father, and none of us were related to him like you. I'll bet if he was alive I could get him to cancel that provision in the contract.” “Maybe; but as long as it’s binding—well, it was the least he could do, considering what the orphanage was given.” “T’ve got a good mind to test it out in court. I’m in- clined to think any fair-minded judge or jury would be pretty sympathetic if they knew what we've had to put up with from you, Phil.” “But your everlasting system and your red tape and your absurd restrictions and small-minded insistence on a lot of picayune rules a (Continued on Page 32) vibe View ——

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“My fri ie ends, upon this platform grand serve and save the nation Without a reservation’ Cael Heat Every om the year round * A safe platform The only safe health standard is top notch condition all the time. And good soup is one of the surest means to secure and maintain it. You should eat good soup every day in the year. All dietetic authorities agree on this. There is not a food-product on your table more wholesome and valuable for its purpose than Campbell's Tomato Soup. Its tonic and regulative properties make it as healthful as it is delicious. The clear juice of selected red-ripe tomatoes with choice butter, fine sugar and other nutritious materials are blended in this tempting soup. Write for our little book of “Helps for the Hostess,” which describes some of the inviting ways to serve it. Free on request. 21 kinds 15c a can THE SATURDAY EVENING POST For Campbell's League of Health we stand LOOK FOR Sele R20 AO Wer lTS LADSL oo . wiece Seek ieee ae co a ae

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Continued from Page 30 The en u ‘ ne a vas when your father retired t le or ini va capa- ble executive and a OO ‘ ‘I don’t care— the em's pur It gets on my nerves.” ‘Your nerves! Great Scott! What about mine?” The Runt went and xd at the window, looking down to the interlacing grooves far below that were the streets of lower New York Ihe silence in the room was thick and ainful Present Philip turned to Haggerty All right,”” he ud *l’r 0 good I'll get out, I'll elease you from that contract. You can take your old »b and go to hell with it, Joe Haggerty.” Unfortunately, Philip, that’s just what we can’t do. The contract wasn't made with you but with Mr. Black- bart 1 don’t know what the legal result would be if we departed from the provisions of the agreement, but that’s neither here nor there. Can't you see I’m under a moral obligation? Your father directed that we were to see that 1u had a regular income over a stated period. I’m not going to try to squeal out of it, but I wish to goodness there was some way I could keep the expense of having you round shaved down to t two thousand dollars a year we pay you. That's a small part of what you cost us, with your neglect and carele ‘ and blunders Why, your influence on the younge re a—a—a blight! ‘You loaf, and so they loaf. Your name Blackbarn, oO vt ir example good ¢ if for them You've demor- alized half the force W her ou have ar thing to do you doit wrong. Youshipped plates to South Bend that should have been delivered he New \ ,at nder that cost us four hundred ds You offend customers by your indifference and lack of tact. You absolutely ignore our rules, even those most necessary to maintain a smooth- running organization, and your ntempt for authority is contagiou All the bo eem to share it F “* Honest to goodness, Phil, the only time I breathe freely is when vou're not in the shop at all With you here, I’m always expecting the machinery to stop because you've thrown a monkey wre! nto it Let me tell you, you're the biggest item of overhead we've got.” * Because I’m under foot, eh?’ "'S no joke “What are you to do about it? Sa Haggerty, I may have fault m darned if I'm as bad as you say You don't give me credit for trying 32 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST “Trying! All I can see is that you try to keep us in hot water.’ The manager sat with his chin sunk in the notch of his waistcoat, pulling thoughtfully at the end of a rather long nose. Then he straightened up. “I'll tell you what! You stay away all the time and let us pay you your salary for doing nothing.” “Oh, don’t kid me, Haggerty!” “I’m not kidding you. If you never set foot inside this office your cost to the company will be exactly two thousand and eighty dollars a year, and no more. That'll be a heap cheaper than the present arrangement. You'll occupy the unique position of a young man who is paid to p away from his job.” All right,” replied the Runt genially. that’s not a bad notion! Unique is the word. I get this dough?” “‘Come for it. You’re to promise not to stay more than fifteen minutes, and you're to call only once a week—on pay day.” “Why not send me a check?” “No, you can at least come here for the money. As it is the deal doesn't carry out the spirit of our agreement with your father, but I hardly think he would ever have insisted on our lugging such an incubus ba “Oh, chop the abuse, will you, Haggerty? You've said enough. I’ve got a little self-respect—so much that if you want to consult your lawyer and see what can be done to get that clause canceled —why, go to it.” “No, I'd be afraid we might vitiate the whole contract. You keep away except on pay days and we'll be satisfied. kee “By George, How do Is it agreed?” ‘It’s agreed,” said the Runt. He went out without further remark, and Haggerty rang the bell for Miss Gilfred. Blackbarn took the elevator to the street and issued forth into the sunshine of a balmy ring day. He felt oddly light-hearted. The world looked to be his oyster—an oyster he was about to devour, throwing away the shells; or—to change the simile—he was a butterfly emerging from a cocoon—shuffling off the necessity for drudging any longer in a smelly engraving plant. He walked in a leisurely fashion to the Brooklyn Bridge Subway station and boarded an uptown express. Emerging into daylight at the Grand Central, he strolled Forty-second Street toward Fifth contentedly along Avenue October 9,1920 It was now twelve o’clock, and the ants were pouring out of their hills forlunch. Ants! H’m! Let’em labor and be as wise as they chose. None of that for the Runt. For the next four years—plus three months—he could sleep as long as he liked, stay up as late as he wished, go where he preferred and remain until he pleased to move on. True, forty a week wasn’t a millionaire’s income, but the Runt hadn’t any dependents. His father had left his mother comfortably fixed, and she had sold the city house ani gone back to her native town up state. Phil stopped and looked into a haberdasher’s window, taking all the time he wanted. He didn’t have to get back and punch a time clock. Wasn't that a grand and glorious feelin’? Joe Haggerty was dictating to Miss Gilfred. When she had come into Haggerty’s office just in time to prevent a rough-and-tumble fight she hadn’t stayed long enough to give one a good look at her. Now as she sat taking short- hand notes with her face in repose it became possible for you to appreciate what a fine and dandy girl she was. Miss Gilfred had silky brown hair and brown eyes, and wore some sort of a brown what’s-its-name made of ribbon at her throat. Her nose was not very long, and though it was straight enough, you got an idea that it tip-tilted just a trifle, because it had a few little freckles. I don’t know why freckles and retroussé noses seem naturally associated. Except for the freckles, Miss Gilfred had an unusually flawless complexion, and really the freckles only served to emphasize the fineness of her skin and the delicately vivid color of her cheeks. A good many of her associates called her Browny, and it seemed a peculiarly appropriate nickname on account of the brownness of her hair and eyes and her unfailing care to wear something that caught and repeated this color note neatly and harmoniously. Browny’s mouth was rather serious, a pleasantly modeled mouth, full of Grade A teeth. Itwasa businesslike mouth, a thoughtful mouth, not given overmuch to laughter. But when Browny did smile it was worth seeing, because her eyes had a delightful way of coéperating with her mouth that made her face shine with appreciation or good will or amusement or whatever the particular emotion might be that she was using the smile to indicate. 3 and we assure you that your plates were shipped on Tuesday, the eighth instant, and should have been (Continued on Page 34) “‘Now,"' Said Miss Gilfred Cosily, ‘Tell Me All About Yoursetf"’ a Se en a eee ee >= ee . “> - > a ~~ ' '

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST PRPPGRNABA AAAS AGES tii tT CUCL ECTEP ERO SIOUATRPRRLEL AEE Tater ei Styleplus rye PEP P pre Clothes —— — CLTEETERTG LL EIEL ERED IT Pitts Famous for their quality and medium prices Men who are eager to get all the essentials of good clothes at moderate cost get Styleplus. / “©? : They are as low in price as clothes of their high quality can be. Every garment is all-wool, correctly styled and ex- cellently tailored. | Every Styleplus suit and overcoat is fully guaran- teed to give good wear. Try it out and see for yourself. You will be more than pleased with the looks of the clothes and you are protected absolutely as to the service they will give. The moderate prices are more than ever accept- able right now. Your local Styleplus merchant has just the fabric and model to please you. Henry Sonneborn & Co., Inc. Baltimore, Md. STYLEPLUS:—‘The big hee el (oy del -y-}

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(Continued from Page 32) delivered by this time. If not received, will you, upon arrival of this letter, kindly wire us and we will at once start tracer. That's all, Miss Gilfred. Thanks. Have I kept you from your lunch?” “Only a few minutes, Mr. Haggerty. I don’t mind.” “It was too bad about—er— young Blackbarn, Miss Gilfred. I guess I should apologize to you, but—well, it was his fault anyhow.” “It startled me a little, but I half believed Mr. Black- barn when he said you were only fooling.’ “Nothing of the sort. If you hadn't come in I imagine we might have damaged each other.” “Then I'm glad I came in when I did “You may be interested to know Mr. Philip is no longer—er-— with us, Miss Gilfred.” “I'm sorry, Mr. Haggerty. I used to like his father o much. You know I was here before he retired.” “You are quite a veteran, aren't you? Yes, John Blackbarn was a fine man. Too bad the kid isn’t more like him.” Miss Gilfred agreed in silence, and moved toward the door “Darn it,” exclaimed the manager; “I wish—-say, I don't feel right about this thing, I can tell you.” It was evident Haggerty’s conscience wasn't quite ea the merest hint of disapproval in the girl’s attitude. It was necessary to justify himself. “You haven't any idea what we had to put up with from that Runt,”’ he said. “Talk about aggravations! He's the limit!” “* Maybe he wasn’t cut out for just the sort of work he was doing. Perhaps he might get ” y, and he sensed somehow along better at something else “I'd like to know what anyone could give him that he wouldn't make a mess of. Lord knows, I tried!" “Did you? “Well, don't you think I did? I'll tell you what's the matter with him. He was dis- gruntled because his father didn’t leave him a lot of money, and he lacked ambition. A bad combination. He'd had things easy too long, and serious, hard work didn’t attract him. He's askylarker. He hasn't any bal- Blessed if I know what will ever I haven’t any patience ance wheel become of the brat with him.’ “I’m sorry,” said Browny. “ Perhaps—if you don’t mind, Mr. Haggerty, I'll go to lunch.’ She went out, leaving Haggerty thoroughly uncomfortable. He couldn't help feeling that she was blaming him. Mighty unjust, considering all he’d stood from the Runt. Phil Blackbarn wandered aimlessly into : one of the big hotels in the neighborhood of 2 Forty-second and Broadway. He thought » it a good idea to consider lunch—a good - lunch— which he would eat unhurriedly, as a became a gentleman of untrammeled leisure Very likely he would encounter some ac quaintance to chat with during the meal, The season of intercollegiate regattas held a lively interest for him in view of the fact that the letter he was entitled to wear across his chest had been earned in a varsity race. He earnestly desired to converse with someone to whom his viewa on rowing might be communicated "Lo, Phil,” said a brisk young man in front of the news stand. “What's the good word?” “"Lo, George. You look busy.” “Am. Hunting for Billy Kipp. Have you seen Billy Kipp? He was goin’ to meet me here.” “Got a date for lunch?” “Yeah— with Billy Kipp. There he is! Hi, Bill! What made you so late?” George bustled off and joined another man, and they went into the grill together. The Runt, left standing alone, felt a bit resentful. He hadn't anything to do. Busy people made him tired. earnest citizens, with things on their minds, rushing round trying to help the world spin, just as if it couldn't possi- bly keep going without them. The Runt spied another man— Wallace Kruger. “Hey, Wall, where you eating? Let’s you and “Can't, Phil. Got to lunch with Billy Kipp and George Ablethorpe. Seen 'em?” “They just went into the café.” “Thought so. Well, so long. See you later.’ Kruger dashed off on the trail of Billy and George. He was so full of affairs, so important. Life was ludicrously serious to him, the Runt thought. Poor fish, rattling about like a pea in a skillet! He felt in his pocket and balanced his cash, finding himself possessed of about ten dollars. Maybe after all he'd better go to some cheaper place for

“Goodness Gracious!" It Was Miss Gilfred, Haggerty's Steno THE SATURDAY EVENING POST lunch, or to the club, where his credit was good. Sud- denly he felt a little forlarn. He was drifting rudderless toward some indefinite port. The Runt became aware that practically everyone was like George and Billy and Wallace. Hardly a soul in the lobby failed to betray some purpose in face or attitude. A boy threaded his way through the crowd, a silver tray at his side, against which a white-gloved thumb firmly clamped a number of cards. ‘Mist’ Webster! Mist’ Rosenthal! Mist’ de Forest! Call f'r Mist’ Arbuckle!” The Runt became abruptly very much depressed. He wandered out into the sunshine of Longacre Square. Here he was accosted furtively by a fairly respectable-looking young fellow who informed him that he hadn't eaten for two days and would appreciate a trifling gift. “Oh, tell that to Sweeney,” said the Runt. “Why don’t you get a job?” “IT been huntin’ the town over, and no- body won’t give me no job.” “Hire a hall,” jeered Philip unfeelingly. There’s plenty of jobs. Husky chap like you doesn't have to beg—and besides you're needed. You can’t live on the community without working—d’you know it? No, sir, you can’t sponge a living in these days when labor's scarce. On your way, bo!” ** Aw, cheese!”’ scoffed the men- dicant. “Youse horny-handed sons 0’ toil gimme a pain!” He scuttled off in the throng. “er r] ; The Runt felt pleasingly virtu- q* ous. Rather a trenchant little p> sermon he had delivered. You can’t sponge a living these days, when labor's scarce— pretty neat. And then the fellow’s resentfully expressed opinion recurred in the a —. Runt’s mind. “ Horny- wk: handed sons of toil’”’ . Sa gave him a pain! Not ; e * five minutes before the ete <a Runt had expressed ex- a actly the same senti- . on ments. It was rather . © illuminating to learn the sort of people who shared that conclusion. He bought a cheap snack in a one-arm lunch place and sought a movie. He was unac- countably blue. Fora time he man- aged to sub- merge this feeling in his ie amusement at Ff the antics of ¥. the cinema F comedian, a celebrity whose salary had been reported to be symbolized by six ciphers and a one suitably arranged. “Attsa guy that grabs the ol’ coin,” remarked a voice behind the Runt “Y"betcha! Pretty soft!’ “T guess so! But, say, he has to work. Sure! All them guys has to work. This bird was in a circus once— worked right up. Sure!” “Yeah! But say, how can a guy be worth all that jack?” “Well, he gets it, don't he? He gets it, see? He works for it. No guys gets away wit’ nothin’ wit’out workin’, see? If they do they hadn’t oughter. Guys that don't do no work, they ain’t got no right tolive. Boy! See what he done to that ol’ geezer? Sure, he works!” It was a long afternoon for Philip—longer than the afternoons at the Blackbarn Engraving Company's shop. By night he was distinctly bored. If he had been given a week's vacation he would have felt impelled to squeeze into seven days all the enjoyment possible. That would have furnished him an object — something to be busy about. Now he had over four idle years to look forward to. The thought hadn't the least allurement. There wasn’t any- thing requiring planning, no reason to hurry. And guys that didn't do no work hadn't got no right to live. That was what the philosopher at the movies had said. A stream of people poured out of a Subway exit, and the Runt watched them. They were going somewhere —some place at which they were required to arrive at a stated time. They were hungry, they were tired, they were eager to see their families, they had an object in locomotion. They made the Runt feel like a rank outsider, a loafer with “S. October 9,1920 nothing in common with these purposeful citizens. It was a rotten feeling, he decided. But his eye lighted when he saw Browny Gilfred pop out of the Subway along with a sudden rush of scurrying folk. She too was purposeful, brisk, eager. He touched her arm and she looked up, smiling a greeting. “Hello, Miss Gilfred. Going home?” “Where else would I be going? The Biltmore?” “Got a date for to-night?” She nodded, and the Runt frowned. “T wish you’d stay downtown and have dinner with me.” “Oh, I can’t! Thanks, though.” “To-morrow?” “Do you really want me?” The Runt nodded violently. “Well, I think I might. I heard you were through with us.” “Did you? Who told you?” “Mr. Haggerty.” “What did he say?” “I'd better not tell you.” “T see—nothing very complimentary. That’s natural. Well, I'll put you on the car, and to-morrow you can tell me what Haggerty said.” “T can’t promise that. But I'll have dinner with you. You mustn’t spend much money.” “No chance. Good night, Miss Gilfred.” “Good night, Mr. Blackbarn.” A little cheered, the Runt went and dined at his club, thus conserving his cash capital. The club was tomblike in its emptiness. Everyone had something to do—they didn’t even loafin theevening. He went to his lodgings and turned in, viewing life with a morbid eye. He couldn't remember being so bored. But every time he thought of Browny Gil- fred and his date for the next night he felt comforted. Browny was a peach anyhow. She was a business char- acter, one of the brisk, efficient sort. By golly, there was an idea! He had for a long time admired Browny tremendously. He even imagined himself mildly in love with,her. She was wonderful company. Why not get married? Surely a chap wouldn't be bored with a darling of a wife like Browny Gilfred—and she'd make him a nice home. Unlike other men, he could stick round and enjoy her society as much as he liked. The no- tion grew enormously attractive, and the Runt was so thoroughly sold to it that he quite convinced himself the matter was as good as settled. He and Browny would be very, very happy on his forty a week, and there would be heaps of things they could do together that people tied down in business offices merely kidded themselves into thinking they would do sometime. The Runt thought the “‘sometimes”’ were frequently long delayed in materializ- ing. He dropped off to sleep in quite a contented frame of mind. “Now,” said Miss Gilfred cozily when they were seated in one of the surviving table d’héte dungeons that manage to subsist upon the profits of selling food without its ac- companiment of bookkeeping fluid, ‘tell me all about yourself.” She leaned forward, her brown eyes glistening with interest. She liked the Runt. Haggerty had suspected that the day before. “Don’t you know?’ “Mr. Haggerty said you'd left. I gathered he’d—he'd fired you.” “Did he say that ““Only implied it.” “If he did he’s a fibber. I’m still on the pay roll of the Blackbarn Engraving Company.” “What do you mean? Having a vacation? Oh, good! I love these funny relishes, don't you? They give you such a lot of them. And the people in a place like this eating in their native tongue, aren’t they? I dote on heaw ing them jabber at one another. Aren’t their gestures expressive?” Yes, Browny was mighty good company, and the Runt felt himself lucky to have hit upon the scheme he had in mind, which he would explain to her along with the entrée. “Well, yes and no,” he said. “You see, Haggerty’s paying me to stay away, because he doesn’t like me.” “T don’t understand. If he doesn’t like you, why doesn’t he discharge you?” “No can do.” “But I don’t see ‘ “When my father sold the business to Haggerty and his crowd they agreed to take care of me for five years, and now they can’t back out.” “But if you don’t render any service in return “Makes no difference. They couldn’t fire me, so Hag- gerty said he’d pay my salary if I’d keep out from under- foot. He doesn’t like me, I tell you.” “What did you ever do to make him like you?” A waitress at this point brought a large bowl of steaming soup. The Runt took charge, serving it with a big ladle, and pictured Browny sitting across the table like that every night in a snug little flat somewhere uptown. (Continued on Page 166) 9 ”

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Fa pe Neem gr THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Certainty that it will carry you ‘‘thereand back’ isoneof the daily delights of Cadillac ownership. Certainty that it will not need constant coaxing and adjustment, no matter how long the journey, is another. Certainty that it will be just as dependable the tenth trip as the first, or the hundredth trip as the tenth, is yet another. But underlying all three of these things is a fourth quality just as delightful as dependability itself. We mean the peculiar pleasure which the Cadillac owner derives every moment—whether his trip carry him one mile or one thousand. We do not believe we are claim C A ft ing too much when we say, as we have said before, that Cadillac performance is as Closely akin toa Hight through space as motoring possibly can be. No car can smooth away a// road inequalities, but what car ever came as close as the Cadillac comes to making its own fine road-bed? In what other car does the road seem to unwind under the wheels with so slight a sense of jar or resistance! The everlasting reliability of the Cadillac is perhaps its chief claim to greatness—but crowding it close in the delight of the owner is this other quality, which, apart from all others, justifies the admiration it inspires the whole world over. Lb A. & », CADILLAC Stay DARD oe tH _

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36 THE SATURDAY EVENING October 9,1920 An Important Hydroetectric Development at Swan Falls on the Snake River in Idaho Electric Energy for Industry HE public utilities are doing a great deal to make our lives comfortable and prosperou Yet it is true that many not only failed t of these companies have hare in the recent prosperity of the country but have had harder sledding during the last few years than ever before in their history. Typical of all the utility corporations are the electrical companies, which provide us with energy for transporta tion, light, heat, power and the transmission of messages. rhe electric utilities have been harmed most by unthink- ing and often unscrupulous bidders for public favors. These individuals have been the ones to decry all increases in rates, irrespective of the needs of the moment and the justice of the utilitic demant The common method of attack is to recite a story of “watered stock upon which huge sums are paid annually as interest Che public is not informed that so far as the public utilities are con cerned the day of watered stock has passed and rates are now fixed upon the basis of proved valuation and the total investment in the propertie It is best that we start with the primary truth that practically all of us hold either a direct or an indirect financial interest in the utilities which serve u For instance, each person who is a beneficiary under any one of the fifty-odd million life-insurance policies now in fores in the United States is interested in the utilities through his insurance company. The total assets of American life insurance corapanies are estimated to be approximately $7,- 000,000,000, and of this huge sum approximately one-third is invested in public-utility stocks and bond More than 27,000,000 people have accounts in American banks, and of these total deposit dreds of million iT of $27,000,000,000, hun loaned on electrical-utili les securitlie When the utilities are crippled in their operation throug} unfair treatment the local communities that are served must suller as a consequence. Electricity is so essential in our modern life that when the su t is deficient in any district industria For example, in one section of a Pacitie Coast state a large power company recently found itself unable to furnish service de- manded by 2000 new applicants, and as a result a $10,000 000 building program was delayed, 1500 carpenters were deprived of a summer's work, and merchants failed to sell $7,500,006 worth of furnishings and supplies that would By Floyd W. Parsons have been needed by the new home owners. Utility cor- porations, and so far as possible all other companies seeking to advance the prices of their products to the public, should be asked to justify their demands and show conclusively that they have already fully availed them- selves of all possible cost-reducing methods and machines. In too many cases the public has been asked to come forward with relief for companies whose chief troubles have resulted from inefficiencies in management rather than from the higher costs of labor and materials. But this is not true in every instance, as many examinations have proved. Recently a candidate for the office of mayor of a large city used as his platform the “five-cent street-car fare.” The voting public, worried by the higher prices of all necessities and determined to make every effort to reduce the cost of living, voted almost unanimously for the five- cent-fare mayor. After election the mayor ordered the street-railway company to reduce its fare from six cents to five cents. With the penny reduction came a wage reduc- tion to the rsotormen, conductors and others, and this was quickly followed by a strike, which tied up the city’s street- car service. The mayor endeavored to solve the problem by using jitney busses and trucks, but an unexpected torm interfered with the program. Within a few days the very people and newspapers which had supported this mayor for election were calling on him to settle the con- troversy or to take the consequences in the form of a recall movement which was making rapid progress. The mayor held a hurried investigation, the six-cent fare was re- established, and the men went back to work. The street cars were cheered by the citizens when they again appeared. Public interference is not always based on facts, as was shown in a Western state not so long ago. A few people in this particular state decided to capitalize the idea that electricity would soon eliminate the coal pile in the heat- ing of houses and buildings. The promoters of a party of unrest, with the desire to capture the organization of one of the two older political parties, laid a plank in its plat- form calling for state ownership of public utilities, and promised the complete elimination of the coal pile through the use of cheap electricity, which was to be furnished either by privately owned utilities located within the state or by the state-owned plants which it was proposed to build in the event the party candi- dates were elected. A selected speaker for the aggressive political organization, popularly known as the “power trust buster,”’ campaigned from place to place explaining to the people that the production of elec- trical energy through water-power development is an extremely simple and inexpensive process. It so happened that the party was not successful, but an impression had been made sufficient to cause the state public-utility com- mission to order all the electric light and power companies before it to show cause why they should not heat houses and buildings by electricity at a rate that would be com- parable with the prices of coal. The entire state became interested in the hearing, and there was no doubt that many of the people believed that the investigation would demonstrate conclusively that electric heating might be employed satisfactorily and with economy. Professors from engineering departments in near-by colleges were drawn into the controversy. As the hearing proceeded it was proved first that there was a great deal of confusion over the amount of undeveloped water power available in the state. Some of the figures were shown to represent rainfall, and not the water in the streams. Next it was made clear that the irrigation season and the heating season overlapped, and therefore a very much larger power capacity would be required than was first estimated. It was discovered that electrical energy for irrigation purposes must be delivered into the country, while the energy needed for heating purposes must be fed to the towns and cities. This meant double transmission distribution systems. It was further determined that the distribution systems in use for house and building lighting would have to be torn down and enlarged with more expensive and heavier equipment to convey the high- voltage electricity necessary for heating purposes. It was plain, therefore, that all houses and buildings would have to be rewired. It was shown that the householders would have to discard their furnaces or stoves and install radia- tors. Finally it was proved that! if all the water power developed in this particular state were devoted to electric heating of houses and buildings, rather than lighting and power, there would not be suflicient power developed to heat adequately two small cities within the state, due to the enormous amount of current that would be consumed. Continued on Page 38 eS = A tp — en

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST List of Latest Actuelle Records (Needle-cut Records, playable on any standard machine) No Size Price Little Town in the Ould i County Down 022408 10 $1.00 Sweet Little Mary Ann The Moon Shines on the Moonshine 022382 10 1.00 I Want a Jazzy Kiss Marion (You'll Soon be Marryin’ Me) »? Good-Bye Sunshine, Hello 022374 10 1.00 Moon! I'm in Heaven When I'm in My Mother's Arms 022403 10 1.00 You're the Only Girl That Made Me Cry ~ — of New or On the Banks of the Wa- 022387 10 1.00 bash, Far Away The Love Nest My Little Bimbo on the » 022412 10 1.00 Bamboo Isle Grieving for You 022411 10 1.00 | Down Sicily Way - . The Moan ‘ | | Blacksmith Rag 020461 10 59 Wigwam ae? Z Mississippi Shore 020457 10 85 Hold Me 17363 | Alabama Moon 022563 10 1.00 La Veeda 022365 10 1.00 Zoma Dance-O-Mania 022380 10 1.00 Kismet * ree PATHE aseinescainery PHONOGRAPH Babe Ruth! Babe Ruth! Babe Ruth! Here’s how he does it! Hear him say it! Has he made a record? We'll say he has!—a phonograph record, and it’s some hit! Clear over the grandstand! Ever see Bambino slam it out? Here's your chance to hear him tell you how he slams it out. It’s a Pathé Actuelle Record —a steel needle record. And even if your talking machine isn’t a Pathé Phonograph, all you've got to do is stick in a needle and let her go. Nothing else to do but listen to Babe tell it! The Home Run Monarch, idol of the baseball public, known by sight to millions who have seen him swing his famous black bat against the horsehide for the “round trip", came to the Pathé Laboratory and made a Pathé Actuelle Record on the great American game and where he fits in. It’s a great record by the greatest baseball star of all time! Pathé Actuelle Records have proved their supreme quality in recording music this Babe Ruth Pathé Actuelle Record proves their sensational perfection in recording the speaking voice. With every Babe Ruth record you get a photographic print of his autographed photograph. ‘ x * x . Pathé Actuelle Records 4 Actuelle Record—No. 022443 —$1.00 Ps ¢ Pathe “Babe” Ruth Himself “»/!" a Se ut 1mse 4 Phono- Pd graph Co., and the reverse side Abadele—Fox Trot— (4 20 Grand Ave., Duane Sawyer and his novelty orchestra. P Brooklyn, N. Y. Get it from any Pathé dealer. gf _ | enclose $1.00. Send m 1 Babe Ruth record all! charges Or clip this coupon and mail to us 7 paid, and one photographic with a dollar pinned to it. o print of his autographed photo 4 graph, free PATHE FRERES P PHONOGRAPH CO. 4% NAME ¢ Brooklyn, N. Y. i y ADDRESS ¢ ¢ ¢ of " hese eweeweane eanecounsesseemoeanouawaenenenels “EES Eee eee eee eee een eenenanana = = as = =

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38 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Continued from Page 36 The state comn ion that investigated the situation made an elaborate report. It stated that even if there was ufficient undeveloped water power to perform this heating ged in order to pay of the company and provide a small job the price that would have to be char { return on the ir e operating expense vestment would be considerably more than the cost of even the highest priced coal. The re port con- tinued “Electric heating is, from an economic stand- point, a ort of alchemist’s dream A study of the ubject, either from the standpoint of thermal dynamies or social or economic science hows that it is utterly possible, We find no grounds for holding out to the people of this tate any reasonable hope that electricity will ever be used generally for house heating. The house heating, in competition with coal, is not practicable. there remains a field for the use of electric ise of electric energy for So long as energy as motive power its use for heating homes is ex- travagant and wasteful.’”” A number of investigations of this kind, entailing time and expense, have been launched as a result of the politi cal ambitions of aspi for the purpose of determining a fair and equitable rate to be charged for service. At the hearings that were con- ducted a number of the local citizens vigorously opposed any recognition of the large sum the company had ex- pended for the construction of the pumping plant. The argument was advanced that the pumps were not in use and probably never would be needed. It was said that they represented a shameful waste of money, upon which customers were now expected to pay interest in the form of increased rates. Notwithstanding this opposition, how- ever, the regulatory commission, after studying all the facts and figures related to the matter of the pumping plant, decided to allow this item of cost as part of the valuation of the corporation’s property, upon which basis fair rates later were fixed. Many citizens and taxpayers criticized this action of the commission, and the news- papers published columns of articles and statements con- taining such criticisms. All this happened about two years ago, and is of interest now only because the developments of recent months have October 9, 1920 with hundreds of employees out of work, and the light and power supply for at least two large cities would have been greatly curtailed during the present emergency. Viewed from one angle the electric-utility companies might be considered as privately owned, but actually they are publicly owned in the sense that hundreds of thousands of citizens hold their securities and look to them for both service and income. Practically without exception they are operated under state or municipal control and regula- tion, which tends to standardize service and minimize rates. With an aggregate property valuation in the United States of more than $4,500,000,000, the electric light-and- power industry has a gross income of slightly more than $600,000,000 a year, or more than seven dollars of invest- ment to every dollar of gross annual income. This means that an electric utility doing a business of $100,000 a year, gross income, must have a plant and transmission system investment of at least $500,000 to enable it to render efficient service. The average merchant doing a $100,000 a year gross business would have a stock of not to exceed $25,000 on his shelves. He would figure on ing officeholders But this is not the only kind of troubie the electric utilities are frequently compelled to face. Just a single example will convey the thought | have in mind: Ten years ago the officers and engineers of a big electric light- and-power serving several states in a mountainous re- gion of the Middle West foresaw the continued prosperity and growth of population of a par ticularly fertile valley which it was then serv ing. The headwaters of the stream running through this valley were high up in the mountains, which are particularly precipl- tous at this point. This meant excessive flood company vaters during the pring and early sun mer months and a comparatively small flow during the re mainder of the vea The steady flow of wa ter in the stream W turning his stock at least four times a year, and the interest charges at eight per cent for this merchant doing a $100,000 business would be practically negligible, since it would amount to only about $2000, or two per cent of his gross business. Interest charges at eight per cent for the electric utility doing the same gross business would be $40,000, or forty per cent ofitsgross business. If the merchant fore- sees an increased trade he may gauge his prof- its accordingly, accu- mulate a surplus and undivided-profits ac- count, and then proceed to make the necessary extensions to his build- ing and stock. Having no undivided profits and no surplus, which it cannot accumulate under the law, the elec- tric utility is forced to go into the money mar- ket and bid for money through the sale of its , ‘ HY ABBOCIA wholly sufficient for present requirement but the engineers were not { guring in years but in decades to the headwaters of capable of * demands. ut to divert the flood waters from fhe river into this lake, Which wa » low, however, that only A survey of the country contiguou the stream discovered a deep natural lake, holding water suflicient for several vear Channels were five feet of water, when the lake was at its highest level, would flow out by gravity. Below that five-foot level the water remaining in the lake must be pumped out in order to be of service, as the boring of an outlet tunnel was not feasible, owing to the topography of the country. The engineers were looking forward to years of light snowfall during the winter and drought during the « pring and Weather drought had occurred previously, but that the effect of summer bureau statist howed that years of such dry spells had not been serious because of the scat- tered population ind lack of development of the valley. Assuming that years of drought would recur, the electric company invested several mi ns of dollars in a pumping plant, which was stationed at the edge of the lake, on a spot that was underlaid with clay and quicksand. It was the only available spot for a pumping station, however, and the cost of construction was unusually high Five huge electric pumps were installed, and before many months had passed the local agitators commenced to point out that there had been a nful waste of consumers’ } money in building such a plant, which they declared was unnecessary and unjustifiabl For several years alt completed the impounded were er the plant wa rainfall was normal and the flood water sufficient to flow off by gravity and keep the river up to the point necessary for the production of the full capacity of hydroelectric energy This river also furnishes water for the irrigation of approximately 80,000 acres of fertile ag ricultural land. Every year for ten years the farmers and eet all their needs. yperty of this company was made by the t tilit comn ranchers have had sufficient water to n In the meantime a val of the pr (ON, NEW Nydroetectric Plant at Shoshone Falls on the Snake River, Idaho definitely vindicated the foresight of the engineers and the judgment of the state commission. The winter of 1919-20 was different. The snowfall was practically nil, and the customary spring rains and floods were lacking. Early in June it became apparent that the flood waters impounded in the lake were not sufficient to flow by gravity for more than a week or ten days longer. Farmers and ranchers who had their crops well under way and who were promised not only record crops but the highest prices in history faced complete crop failures and in many cases financial ruin as a result of the failure of the water supply. On June eighteenth the gravity flow of water in the stream had decreased to such an extent that it was entirely insufficient to run the hydroelectric plants of the company or to furnish water for irrigation for the farmers. On that date the electric-utility company started its big pumps, which immediately began hurling tons of water from the lake into the channels, and thence into the river. This water went through the hydroelectric turbines and on down the stream to points where the overjoyed farmers turned it into their irrigating ditches and laterals on their farms. To-day the newspapers of the district are telling how crops in the valley have been saved from failure by the big pumps that lifted the water from the lake to the river. The writers say further that though this is the first time the pumps have been used their action in preventing a local calamity has fully justified their installation. Though the foregoing incident is cited merely to show how easily and quickly the public is often led to assume a false position and support an unfair fight, the story also tends to make plain the further fact that the electric light- and-power industry is not one that can operate upon a day-to-day or even a month-to-month basis, but is a business that must be figured upon and its needs esti- mated many years in advance. Had it not been for the foresight of the officers and engineers of the company above me ntioned, whole communities would have been in , mills and factories would have been closed down, darkne securities or through the issuance of notes. Later the utility company must add to its plant, with the certain knowledge that the investment it is making is at least five times as great as the annual gross return can be. Following this it must prepare a plea for the granting of rates based on the new and increased valuation of its property, after which it must patiently wait for favorable action on its very just and reasonable demand. The future of the electric-utility companies can hardly be imagined, so great are the possibilities. Power is an all-important factor in our industrial life, and it makes very little difference whether the energy used is derived from coal, water or other natural resource. Three-fourths of the potential 59,000,000 horse power of water power in the United States is now opened up by the Water-Power Development Bill, which was passed by the last Congress during its final days and signed by the President after the nation’s legislative bodies had adjourned. In eleven of our Western States ninety-four per cent of the possible hydro- energy is not yet used. The scarcity of coal in the West and the record prices of oil, coupled with the probable early electrification of many miles of steam railroad, are creating a demand for water-power development that is becoming more imperative as the months pass. Even in California, where one-tenth of the total developed water power of the country is located, the demand for energy for industrial purposes far exceeds the supply. Washington shows the largest maximum potential water horse power of any state in the Union, but it ranks among the Western States below both California and Montana in its amount of developed water horse power. In the New England States 77.2 per cent of the maxi- mum water power is now utilized, which indicates that little additional development may be expected in this sec- tion. In New York athird of the potential 3,000,000 hydro- electric horse power is developed. The bulk of the unde- veloped power in New York State is on the international boundarystreams, namely,the NiagaraandtheSt. Lawrence (Concluded on Page 54 ee i { | | — = — dl

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a” Se eee oot THE SATURDAY EVENING POST . - —. 2 ——————— — — —— Tue delightful difference in the way the Liberty rides and drives is sO pronounced that you are convinced at once of the deep and abiding quality of the car. Liberty brakes act so easily, and so effectively, that it is as easy to stop the car as it is to start it. It requires but slight pressure to bring the service brakes into play. The same distinguishing feature applies to the emergency brake With far less pull than.ordinarily required, the emergency brake acts instantly. It operates on a drum on the propeller shaft, directly back of the transmission This means in- creased braking effectiveness, and elimination of tendency to skid, because the same pressure is exerted on both rear wheels. Liberty Motor Car Company, Detroit } | LIBERTY SIX

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40 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ALUTE TO ULLO, Brant!” “Hullo! There you are!” “ Yes. I'm sorry I wasn’t able to turn up on Saturday, but I was pretty sure you'd find someone else to make up the foursome.”’ “‘Thefoursome! Oh, we roped Symons in.” Immediately when Brant uttered this name the face of the older man changed. He was discreet. Perhaps it could only be said that he looked a trifle more alive, with 1 slight sharpening of eye and mouth, even of nose, like a terrier that expects to smell something. But the altera- tion was subtle, not perceptible to any except by the closest observation Brant noticed it, because he was watching for it. He had learned to watch for such expressions —sly, curious or irritated—-in his friends at the mention of Symons’ name. Smithson, in faet, was a great deal more consid- erate than some with less control of feature and possibly a higher morality “Symons— what's he do?” asked Smithson in the most careless way in the world. “He's a mining engineer—chiefly on tin. But he hasn't done anything for the last year or two. I fancy he was left ome money.” “Ah, that’s it! 1 was wondering. when he chooses to talk.” “Very.” “Good-looking, too’’—Smithson had the air of doing Symons justice—“attractive sort of man, I should think, very attractive’—he paused, eying Brant, and then added suddenly—“to some people. But I admit I find Interesting fellow him a bit dull mysell “Tle hasn't had much luck,” “No— I've heard that he wasn't very happily married.” “Anything but. It seems to have regularly bowled him say I’m sorry for the poor devil.” ’ He's always so down on his luck.” over. I must “Yes, sad thing.’ Smithson’s face, again by the subtlest of unconscious changes, displayed something like pity. But it was not for Symons. His eyes dwelt too obviously upon Brant, and only his great discretion prevented him from shaking his head when, at his own station, he rose, said good-by with the voice of one who speaks to an invalid and left the train, By Thomas Joyce ILLUSTRATED Br DOUGLAS RYAN “Damn the man,” said Brant cheerfully to the empty carriage—“‘and damn Briggs and damn Marker—in fact damn pretty nearly everyone I know, and a lot who only know me. Why can’t they mind their own business?”” And after thought he answered his own question like an honest and sensible man: “ Because it’s damn selfish to mind only one’s own business, and they’re decent fellows.” “Good-looking, too’’— Brant quoted Smithson’s remark with a good-natured grin. Brant was not good-looking. He was a pug-faced man, prematurely bald, with a cock nose, a large black jaw and a very short neck. Only his expression saved him from desperate ugliness, so that he could appreciate the casual turn of eye and voice which went with Smithson’s appreciation of Symons, Everyone indeed, at the time of Brant’s marriage five years before, had wondered what Fenella Mays saw in him. But it was a conventional wonderment. The men secretly thought her more sensible than she looked, to appreciate Brant, and the women had already decided that there was something very taking about him. They liked that kind of ugliness, combined with such an excellent temper. He filled his clothes well. There was at times something of pleasant wickedness in his eye, which had a very invigorat- ing effect. But as each of them believed herself to be original in such an unusual preference, they all of them wondered. It might be added besides that it is always the custom of the bride’s friends to wonder, and of the bridegroom's to suspect that he is throwipg himself away. “What the deuce do they think?” asked Brant, stretch- ing out his legs and frowning at his spats. “That I’m a fool to let them play about together—or that I can’t stop it?” “Symons may be a bit taller,” he added, projecting his formidable jaw—Symons was at least five inches taller, but Brant was disinclined to think of himself as a short man—“but I doubt his grit. In fact, I shouldn’t think he had the spunk of a louse. One hard tap on that delicate nose ” He stopped and pondered, then grimaced yet October 9,1920 more horribly at his toes. ‘“‘ However, if they think it goes on because I can’t stop it they’re right.” And Brant, with his hat over his eyes and an ap- pearance of amiable reflection, carefully summed up the wisdom of his late experience. “A husband can’t interfere with a wife in a thing like this. If he says she mustn’t it’s as good as telling her she might, and that’s a ruddy insult. If she’s got any go she jumps on the high horse and carries on worse than ever. If she lies down it’s a confession, and you don’t know where you are, and it’s worse to hit the man. Then the fat’s in the fire and no mistake. “Suppose I do go to Fenella and tell her people are talk- ing. She'll open her eyes and ask me what I mean. Quite right too. If she didn’t I should begin to wonder. And if I don’t go to Fenella —” This question was not so easy to answer. Brant was still looking for an answer when he reached Warnford Park station. All the way home he sought for it. “Tea’s in the garden, sir,” said the maid, taking Brant’s hat. “‘ Mr. Symons was here for lunch,” she added demurely. “Thanks. Did he leave any message?”’ “He's still here, sir.” “Good! Thank you.” He strolled down the garden toward the arbor generally used for garden teas, while he wondered if he had been wise to say “‘good”’ in that cheerful voice. He desired the maids to think he liked to see Symons, but then it would not do to let them suspect the desire. And it is not usual to beam and say “good”? when a maid announces that there is a visitor. Brant sighed for the complications of life as he came up to the arbor. Just outside he hesitated. It was quite an involuntary pause, due perhaps to the preoccupation which left some instinct in control of his muscles. He was even about to cough. He caught himself in the very act, and recognized his hesitation at the same moment. “Oh, damn!” he said to himself. “I didn’t know it was as bad as this.” He marched firmly into the arbor without the cough, and found Fenella and Symons sitting in cane chairs on Continued on Page 42) He Was Even About to Cough. He Caught Himself in the Very Act Shia a7 ee ee ———— - ” }

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7 — —— Seg ea ~ THE SATURDAY EVENING POST This Label Always Stands for House Paint That Endures OU can still get a house paint made with pure lead, pure zine and pure linseed oil. In spite of the scarcity of raw materials and the high cost of manufacturing, S WP is made ac- cording to the same formula, from the same ma- terials and in the same thorough way as in the past. This high-gloss, heavy-bodied house paint will cover 360 square feet, two coats, per gallon and will protect the wood it covers for years. When you paint, paint for the future — use > S W P—it’s the most economical in the end. 32 non-fading colors. Go to the Sherwin-Williams dealer in your town Tne SHERWIN-Wittiams Co., Main Office: 601 Canal Road, N. W., Cleveland, O. S-W PRESERVATIVE S-W PORCH & DECK S-W CONCRETE PAINTS S-W REXPAR SHINGLE STAIN PAINT made in two types—for Exterior Varnish is a creosote base. It pene trates vives protec tion joe t whe re crete and cement th or pre \ ca ! | wood fiber deeply, waterproots home wear and op sure are vent dusting of the surtace | | and prevents warping. All S-W severest mn porche id steps. resist wear Concrete Wall porch tore trot Preservative Shingle Stain col It prevents warping, and 1 Finish beaurifi ‘ boat ib houses, et It 3 ors are permanent and afford proves exteri oF ap arance with terior wal ind 1 ture waterproof, a re ts the se beautiful decorative effect. fine outdoor pr s well as du ther bsicawin.Wituans ay PRODUCTS PAINTS, VARNISHES, DYES, WOOD PRESERVATIVES. CHEMICALS. INSECTICIDES AND DISINFECTANTS 41

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42 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST (Centinued from Page 40) opposite sides of the tea table, with every appearance of propriety. Fenella rose to kiss him, with the affectionate but quiet dignity of a wife who kisses her husband on departure and arrival some seven hundred times a year. He smiled and greeted Symons. “T just. dropped in,”’ murmured the latter. “ Rather—very glad you did.” “The fact is,’ said Symons, looking a little less lugu- } r, ‘things are a bit brious as he sank back into his « disorganized with me “Really? Sorry about that. Is that my tea, Fenella?”’ “Yes, dear. You don’t mind it weak, de you? I’ve just put some more water in the pot “No, no! That's all right. What about toast? Done, is it? Oh, yes, bread and butter—that’s the stuff.” “Mr. Symons is moving, dear,’’ Fenella gravely inter- rupted his cheerful remarks. “ Moving?” Brant seeing that sympathy was required looked sym- pathetic. He was indeed pretty well accustomed to pro- viding a sympathetic chorus for the tale of Symons’ woes. He glanced at Symons with a mournful brow “Yes. Awful nuisance. The truth is, |'m being turned out. The place has been let for the July quarter over my head. Mrs. Peters never told me a word of it.” Brant whistled “Phew! Hard lines! Where will you go? I say, Fen- ella, did you remember the sugar?” Fenella had not remembered the sugar, and Brant rose to help himself and to stick together the remnants of a slice of bread and butter which had proved too tattered for his guest “It's really disgraceful,” said Fenella indignantly. “I thought there was a law preventing such things. I was just telling Mr. Symons, dear, that he ought to come and put up with us for a bit— until he finds somewhere else “a Symons protested “It's very kind of you, Mrs. Brant, but really I don’t think I ought.” 1 j “Where will you go then? You ' know there’s not a room to be had.” : r “Yes, that’strue. !'mafraid there a, aren'tany digs. But I don’t like to j # 7 give you so much trouble.” ' J} u Brant was foraging among the | 2 =v rifled plates of the cake stand and ‘iA did not seem to be attending very carefully to this conver sation. But he thought that he was meant to speak next The genera} pause seemed to wait on him. And he thought, too, that when he continued with his head be tween his legs, peering at a fragment of cherry cake which lay amid a desert of crumbs on the lowest dish, Fenella and Symons e) changed a glance across his back. He may have been wrong. But he was always reputed, even at the office, to see with the back of his head, and he was certainly often able to tell what his wife was doing in the next room. These moreover are not uncommon feats with a husband Meanwhile the of five years’ experience silence continued “Gad, yes!" he agreed, sitting up Ww ith a very con- gested face. ‘* Lodgings are scarce here. Though I believe things are better Hampstead way.” “Hampstead! But Johnny, dear, that’s right on the other side of London.” “Rather far, I'm afraid,”’ Symons dryly agreed. Brant did not ask what or whom it was far from And there was another pause, rather more embarrassing than the last “Well, Mr. Symons,” said Fenella suddenly in a louder voice, “don't forget that I shall feel very offended if you don’t take us at our word.’ She gave her husband a swift glance and colored slightly. Symons also looked at Brant “Really,” he murmured, “it's awfully good of you.” There was a third pause. Amid the most pregnant silence Brant slowly masticated a fragment of bread and butter. Fenella’s brow darkened. The most considerate and tact- ful of women, she could never understand bad manners in another. Symons was sorry for her, and feeling as he had often felt before that it must be very hard to live with such a barbarian as Prant, a fellow apparently of the coarsest fiber, unresponsive to any but the most strident chords of feeling, the loudest and plainest verbal intima- tions, had begun, from the mere necessity of someone’s saying something, “I hope it won’t be very inconvenient for you,” when Brant at last swallowed his microscopic mouthful, threw a gulp of tea after it, and found, as he had suspected before, that his position was impossible. He yielded immediately and cheerfully. “Inconvenient? Not at all! Not at all! My dear fellow, the room’s empty. What else would we do with it? And when you're turned out like that —really it’s the least we can do for the —er—the good name of the neighborhood.” Brant had stumbled on a very pleasant equivocation, and instantly enjoyed it. There was probably no possible situation in which he could not have enjoyed a neat turn of phrase. He could not help repeating it. ‘For the good name of the neighborhood—and that is to put it at its lowest,” with a sly peep from Symons to Fenella. But Symons no more suspected Brant of being capable of a play upon words than he would have looked for poetry in a stove catalogue, and if he had understood, his sense of worth, confirmed by the injuries of the world, would have enabled him to despise it. He replied appropriately, ‘‘Thanks very much. It’s awfully good of you, Brant. I really don’t know what I should have done without you.” au = Se D over your traps as soon as you like,” urged Brant \) warmly, and received a grateful smile from his wife. Fenella was delighted with him. ‘‘And I tell you what,” he added, ‘stay to dinner. I daresay you're not very keen on feeding in that harpy’s place any longer. Don’t bother to dress.” “Oh, but Mr. Symons has his things here! Haven't you, Mr. Symons?” ‘You brought a bag? That’s lucky.”” Brant was really pleased with himself for the unmoved countenance with which he received this last piece of news and the easy tone in which he commented on it. His first impulse had been to utter his favorite “Phew,” and ejaculate something like, “of all the damn cheek!” “‘Mr. Symons was staying to dinner al- ready,"’ Fenella explained gracefully to her awkward husband, “and as Mrs. Peters has Feneltla Met Him on the Landing in a Very Serious Temper been so nasty, and he only had a week more in any case, I thought he might as well send over his things this morn- ing. I've put him in mother’s room—next your dressing room.” “‘Good idea,’”’ mumbled Brant with his mouth full of the last of the cherry cake. “I’m afraid,” said Symons politely, “that you must think it rather cool of me to dump myself down like this. But when Mrs. Brant was so kind as to suggest i “Not at all,” Brant intefrupted him with hospitable eagerness. “Excellent plan. I’m very glad we can have you.” “I can assure you I’m very glad to come. It is difficult to tell you how much it means to a homeless wretch like myself to be among friends, to enjoy a real home life, if only for a time. You mightn’t believe it, Brant,’’ he sadly smiled at his host, “but I am naturally a domesticated sort of man.” October 9,1920 “T hope you wil! consider this your home for as long as you can stay,” said Fenella with warm sympathy. “It is too good of you, Mrs. Brant. When I think of the home I might have had, and what life is to me now, I know how to appreciate your kindness.” Symons’ low voice died away in a mournful cadence. He mused, and it certainly suited him. He looked like Byron remembering the Maid of Athens. There were tears in Fenella’s eyes as she surveyed the beautiful tableau. And Brant was careful not to make a noise while he swallowed the last of his tea amid profound silence. When at dressing time Brant had got as far as shirt and trousers, and Mrs. Brant to doing her hair, it was the former’s rule to come in from his dressing room and finish his toilet in his wife’s. While she sat before her glass in a short muslin jacket and brushed and peered, with a grace- ful display of bare arms, he strolled about the room, press- ing in his studs, buttoning his collar, peeping over her shoulder to tie his bow, and posturing casually—as if in passing —before the wardrobe glass, to judge the hang of his trousers. Brant was as neat as a cat, and enjoyed dressing. And meanwhile they discussed affairs. Or rather Brant threw out remarks of general interest and Fenella replied, “‘H’m,” or “ Yes, darling,”’ or “I s’pose so, dear,” in a preoccupied voice. Not that her preoccupation stopped her from hearing exactly what was said. Brant was not deceived into the soliloquy so dangerous to hus- bands. He knew that his words, if carelessly received, stayed in whatever office of Fenella’s head was set aside for dicta to be criticized at leisure—and all husbands’ words are in that category if their wives love them—and took the usual marital precautions to excite no fatiguing curiosity or dangerous misunderstanding. “Bad luck—Symons getting turned out like that,’’ was his first essay this evening. “H’m,” said Fenella from beneath her hair. “Blow!” said Brant. “I’ve got the wrong tie. Don’t like butterflies.” He popped into the dressing room and then as quickly popped out again. “Yes, dashed bad luck. Funny too.” “H’m,” said Fenella, flinging back her hair with a violent toss of the head and a stroke of the brush. “Funny he didn’t see it coming, and I always thought there had to be a month’s notice on either side.” “ Awfully bad luck,” said Fenella. She was pretty often five minutes behind in dressing conversations. “But I daresay he didn’t particularly want to stay on,” Brant ventured. “Yes, don't weara butterfly, dear. They look so measly.” Brant was thoughtfully adjusting his braces. “Though why in that case he didn’t begin to look round for somewhere else be- fore 6 “Why funny?” asked Feneila suddenly, holding up a coil with one hand while she reached fora hairpin with the other. “Why what?” “Funny, dear.” “Well, isn’t it funny?” Brant turned round for a cautious glance at the back of her head. “H’m,” replied Fenella with a pin be- tween her teeth. Brant did not see the pin. He was therefore much relieved in the comfort- able belief that Fenella did not mean to go further into the subject—at least till bedtime. He popped into the dressing room for his waistcoat and advised him- self to be still more careful. This was a ticklish matter. But when he returned with a cheerful remark that the kitchen door must be open—he could smell roast beef—Fenella had removed the pin for use. “IT don’t see anything funny,” she re- plied severely, “and do you know, dear, that you were rather rude to poor Mr. Symons this after- noon? You made me feel very uncomfortable.” “Rude?” cried Brant as if amazed at the charge. “Yes, when I said he ought to stay. You know very well I was waiting for you to back me up. Whoever it was, you ought to have backed me up. Of course I know you don’t like Mr. Symons, but that’s another reason why you ought to be especially careful not to be rude to him. It makes it so awkward. It was frightfully awkward when you just said nothing—especially as the poor man had all his luggage with him.” “Who said I didn’t like him?” demanded Brant. But this artful attempt to divert Fenella was not success- ful. She had an uncommon ability of glancing up the by- roads of her theme without losing the main road. “TI never thought you could be so conventional,” she said still more severely. (Coatinued on Page 45) eager ee

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 43 > gs, + a ~- c Ay A I pe ey hs ee Vv hae ae \ aa y SN > 7 *% oS t+ fT * vA if 7) According to the National Board of Fire Under ’ ee A «x — . writers, one of the cmef causes of community e fires is the inflammable roof. Over a hundred = cities and towns throughout the United States Se f 7 : r GAS a now have ordinances agamst this menace B IrCcie ae ' i DDENLY, without warning, Fate takes up we plan a hundred; squandering wealth; diverting labor and dis- | the compass and, putting down the pointer on ae very tranquillity on which ourdevelopment depends ie some peaceful community, she decrees: “This Fire prevention is a national responsibility. But it is mor place shall be burned.” Then swinging an one of personal action than legislation. To each of us some arc she draws a circle—‘‘These people shall preventive measure is possible. Fach must set up his own he fear-stricken.” safeguards to fortify his own property. In the scare circle, around the fire, the horror The spread of fire is nothing more than one building of what might have-been brings fire prevention catching the flame from another, usually from roof to roof. So 4 home to those in it and with sharpened realiza the roof is one of the most vulnerable spots where fire can strik tion Insurance is written, legislation is rushed through, fire That is why Johns-Manville Asbestos Roofing 1s recog safety devices become necessities, fire-safe roofings compulsory. nized everywhere as an important preventive against fire’ ! And all this is perfectly human, and in its restricted effect spread. For it is the only all-mineral roofing felt, and so, | it is the price a locality pays for greater fire safety. while possessing all the He KIDIIty Of fabric and adaptab | y pay - ‘ ; ; ; ; ; therefore to all kinds of root surfaces, 1f 18 at the same tim : But the scare circle 1s no longer a mere local panic. It inert to fire, weather and fungi. has widened in significance , for today our fire loss is a National So Johns-Manville Asbestos Roofing, cither in its “built ; scand: il, a cause tor general concern, up” or “ready roll”? form or as shingk s, 1S not only fire-im | Public men speak of it with grave emp yhasis; organized mune yr the most remarkable of roofings. Because it ts all I safety bodies deplore it. For fire prevention is no trumped-up mineral it 1s impervious to all the ravages to which ordinary propaganda, no phantasy of the imagination. roofings are subject ‘ Itina living blight right h, re among us, blocking It 1s economical because it lasts for the life of the building and mocking our plans to catch up in our build without need of repair or paint. Truly the most desirabl: ) ing program; burning down ten buildings whilk roofing on all counts. = JOHNS-MANVILLE CO. c . . . TME CONTIN: Madison Ave. at 41st St., New York City 10 Factories — Branches in 64 Large Cities For Canada: CANADIAN JOHNS-MANVILLE CO., Ltd., Toronto Through— Asbestos & Se TOHNS- MANVILLE erves in Conservation that keeps the heat where it belongs CEMENTS that make boiler walls leak-proof ROOFINGS that cut down fire risks PACKINGS that save power waste LININGS that make brakes safe FIRE PREVENTION PRODUCTS

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44 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST I hea eS, Medi ce aR ee ee, Ma mrt Ran SE rR The Engine of a MAX WELL Is Full of Action Through the Use of Special Steels The high efficiency of Maxwell and its growing numbers on the world’s highways callattention daily to the engineering thought behind its construction, The object has been to eliminate useless weight, as such weight adds nothing to car efficiency and provides a handicap in high cost of operation. Merely to make a light weight car would achieve little, for there have been too many light weight cars that could not stand the shock of wear and tear. The answer is found by the science of metallurgy. Special steels have been developed after years of experiment and practice. These steels have great strength. These steels form the bone and sinew of a Maxwell. They are made to Maxwell’s own formulae, and there are no other steels just like them. These special steels ease the burden of a Maxwell engine and make possible its alert- ness, its getaway, its small consumption of ‘*gas’’ and oil, its day-in and day-out con- sistency. They are the main cause for Maxwell growth: 5,000 a year six years ago; 100,000 a year today; and over 400,000 in use on the six continents. Maxwecit Moror Co., Inc., Detroit Maxwect Moror Co. of Canapna, Lrp. WINDSOR, ONTARIO Maxwe_t Moror SALes CorPORATION Export Division, 74 BROADWAY, NEW YORK October 9,1920 —o + 1} rd

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 45 (Continued from Page 42) ““My dear Fenella, you don’t mean to say you think I don’t want Symons here because people might say you are seeing too much of him?” retorted the serpent Brant with the most splendid indignation. ‘“ Dash it all, Fenella, that’s a bit thick! Think what it means! It’s as good as accus- ing me of saying that you de see too much of Symons— that you oughtn’t to see so much of Symons as you do. And though naturally you do see a good deal of Symons és “Don’t be so wild, Johnny! I know you're not accusing me of anything. All I wanted you to do was to be decently polite to your guests. So don’t argue so absurdly, and come and button me.” Brant gave himself the pleasure of a grin while he was safely engaged on the back of Fenella’s dress. He twinkled his eye and wrinkled his nose as if to say “Oh, aren’t you a clever girl?’”’ Then he kissed her on the shoulder blade before the last frill of her camisole, or whatever it was, disappeared beneath the rising satin. “And you do dislike him,” she added, picking up her handker- chief. This was very like Fenella. Brant’s little move—a mere stratagem Was now f9 pro- vide a whole new subject of examination. “No- ‘g “Yes, youdo. You dislike him because he is unhappy. Just like all conventional people.” “But I’m not conven- tional. Hi, stand still a minute! You're not nearly decent.” “Unhappy and unfortunate,” con- tinued Fenella sadly. “And it is so easy to dislike people like that. But I do think that charity ought to include the sharing of other gifts as well as money. We are so happy, Johnny dear’’- she turned to him suddenly at the cost of three shoulder fasteners. ‘‘Couldn’t I make your life absolutely miserable for you if I tried?” “You could, but you couldn't.” Fenella was far too serious to be flattered even by the neatest compliments. “Then think what that poor man must have endured with that awful woman! For you know, dear, he did love her. He tries to love her still. He was saying only to-day how much he wants to love, how he longs for someone to love—to give his heart to.’ Brant made a slight grimace, caught Fenella’s eye and hastily agreed that it was a hard case. “Symons is a hard case,” he said solemnly The dinner gong cut off the rest of Symons’ woes. But they were already pretty thoroughly known to Brant Fenella was well acquainted with them all and, like a good friend to both parties, she passed them on. Brant was always ready to agree that Mrs. Symons must have been an unpleasant woman to live with; that persistent melan- cholia and occasional dram drinking are bad faults in a wife; that Symons had probably excellent reasons for separating himself from her. He pitied him When he could not pity him entirely for this misfortune he could always be sorry for his various internal ailments, his neurasthenia, his floating kidney, his enlarged spleen, his chronic dyspepsia—for which the only remedy appeared to be Brant’s champagne—and when, as sometimes oc- curred, after a fortnight’s close acquaintance, he could not pity him at all he took care to seem to. Fenella demanded it of him. The situation demanded it of him. And all his friends, requiring light on the situation —asking in various tones and voices why the deuce Brant allowed that fellow Symons to philander with his wife—most peremptorily demanded it of him, though none of them were satisfied with it as a full explanation. “Got Symons staying with you, I hear,”’ said Smithson one Monday morr.ing in the nine-nine to Broad Street. “Yes; the poor blighter was turned out of his lodgings without notice. A most iniquitous thing. And there’s not another room to be had anywhere. So I’m putting him up for a few days.” Smithson’s watchful gaze seemed to ask “Now what is really going on? Are you a silly ass, or are you deeper than we think?” But all he said was “‘That’s hard lines. It’s good of you to take him in.” “The truth is, Smithson, I’m sorry for the poor devil. He’s had a rotten time of it with that wife of his, and it’s broken him up more than you might think. He’s a sensi- tive kind of man.” 9” ““D’you know her? “Who? Mrs. Symons? No. Do you?” “Oh, yes. She lives at Hammersmith. Does typing now. We give her a good deal of work at times.” “Ah!” Brant’s face showed none of the great interest which these details excited in him. There was a pause. “He drinks, doesn’t he?’’ Smithson began again at a new place. ““No—at least not much. Why? Whotold you he drank?” “I gathered from Mrs. Symons that she left him be- cause he She Openty Considered His Pleas: ure Before All Elise, and Enjoyed It. She Could Not be Induced to Go Anywhere Without Him “Left him? I thought he left her.” “She says she left him. Couldn’t stand his little ways. It appears he used to weep in the soup—and drink, too— a regular grievance monger. You know, Brant, I don’t know what you think yourself, but it seems to me that Symons is a bit of a wet blanket, between ourselves.” “Poor devil. He’s every right to be,” said Brant warmly. Do you mean that he ought to be barred because he has had a rotten time and feels it?” “Oh, no! Dear me, no! Not at all! H’m!” Smithson looked grave, but he added with the same grave air “I believe that Mrs. Symons also has her sym- pathizers in Hammersmith.” Brant merely replied “‘Humph, I dare say,” and opened his paper. The unsnubable Smithson cocked his eye out of the window and reflected that things were always very interest- ing when one began to go into them. Even Fenella in time became aware that the conven- tions are not merely Aunt Sallies set up for no other pur- pose than to have the pipes knocked down their throats by enterprising and high-minded young women. They hit back. She also found strange things in the expressions and voices of her female friends and things not quite so discreetly veiled as those which annoyed Brant. It is needless to say that Fenella was no more than a suspect scarcely even a suspect except to herenemies. But women, with greater control of feature than men, are much less inclined to use it for concealment. Neither were her friends much less embarrassing than her enemies. They were just as indignant with her for requiring explanation and defense for her sins as her enemies. It is tiring even for good-natured partisans to be obliged daily to repeat to obvious disbelievers that a young married woman who spends most of six months with a man who is not her husband, and finally takes him to live with her, is not necessarily overfond of him. Moreover, Fenella herself betrayed them by the increasing kindness of her attitude to Symons. She was more attentive to him than ever before. She called him Harry. She openly considered his pleasure before all else, and enjoyed it. She could not be induced to go anywhere without him. And the plain minds of Warnford Park, unaccustomed to line drawing in judg- ment, could scarcely be expected to grasp that not bravado, not licentiousness, but mere justification might force any girl to such action—that it is precisely in this manner that convention makes its most effective counter. Brant had made one cautious effort to use the hint of Smithson’s. He told Fenella as a curious piece of informa- tion that he had heard of Mrs. Symons and as a joke that she seemed to consider herself the injured party. But his attempt to suggest to Fenella by a side wind that there might be something on both sides of the case was com- pletely unsuccessful. She was now a fanatic, and Brant was obliged to perceive that his wife was not only losing her reputation but her common sense. Both of them noticed at this time that several of the more virtuous ladies in Warnford Park had ceased to visit them. Fenella was even obliged to tell her husband one night, as a good jest, that the vicar’s wife had not been at home to her when she called. Neither referred to any pos- sible cause for such a strange alteration of feeling toward one of the most popular young hostesses in the place, but Brant seized the chance to make a strong attack on conventional morality, which was very soothing to his wife’s nerves. Indeed he was so warm on the subject that she claimed him as a convert. “Convert to what?” he asked. “Oh, to—to thinking for oneself-—to doing what is right without caring about all the silly little rules.” “T hope I always have.’ Fenella was doubtful. “Well, at any rate,” conceded at last, “ you’re not being conventional now.” “No-o!” Brant was sitting on the bed. The bedroom had become the only refuge of the Brants from the pervasive Symons and Brant took every opportunity for a visit thither. He was now supposed to be on the way to his bath, while Fenella, already bathed, lounged by the fireplace. “‘I came across a rather sad case last week,” said Brant “Oh!” Fenella was surprised at the change of subject “Yes—a girl who’s been doing some typing for the firm—or rather a woman, though she’s had such a rotten time it’s hard to tell what her age is.” “What happened to her?” “A husband,” said Brant shortly, “A bad husband?” “A thorough rotter.”’ “Poor thing!” “Yes-s,"” Brant drawled, and raised his eyebrows. “I was dashed sorry for her. It makes one think to see peopi so thoroughly unhappy when one knows what happiness is oneself.”’ Fenella sadly shook her head. “She was awfully friendless too.” “Was?” “Well, I've done what I could.” “Oh!” “Why ‘oh’?” “Nothing. You mean you've been trying to cheer her up a bit?” “That sort of thing. I've given her a few decent meal at least. She looked as if she never had a decent meal in her life." There was a long pause before Fenella replied. But then she was deeply sympathetic “Poor thing, I'm glad you were able to do something,” she murmured. “‘As a matter of fact,”’ said Brant, ‘‘she wants a change She’s not really poor. She has money. The typing i chiefly a distraction, I fancy, and she could go away if she liked. But she’s got so thoroughly low in spirits that its affecting her health. Now what I want to do is to give her a bit of a change. I’ve suggested it, and she seems quite pleased with the idea.” “Ask her out here? But, darling, would it do with Harry? He oughtn’t to be with depressing people, ought he? And she sounds rather depressing.”’ “Yes, I thought of that. No, Fenella, my idea was to run her down to Brighton for the week-end. Smithson will lend me his car.’ Fenella was really startled. “But Johnny!” she exclaimed, turning round in her seat “Why ‘but’?” asked Brant, popping his head over the end of the bed with an expression of surprise “Not alone—just you two?” “Why not, dear?”’ “But think of what people will--I mean, it’s rather ur usual, isn’t it?”’ “Yes-s, I suppose it is. But it would be rather a shame to allow a few old cats in Warnford to stop one ffom doing a real kindness, because it would be a real kindness. I'm sure it would make a great difference to the poor girl, and I must say I’m dashed sorry for her. She needs all one can do.” There was another pause, still longer than the last Fenella looked extreme ly thoughtful. Brant tried to wear she

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Then he hopped off the bed, picked up sponge and bath towel and walked toward the door. But at the door he stopped as if seized by a suspicion. “Tsay, Fenella, you don’t mind, do you?” “Mind what?” “My taking her down. No, don’t be offended. I only mean that from some points of view it is rather what shall I say ?—unconventional.’ “Johnny, am I likely to be conventional in such a case?” Fenell i: a demanded, rising grandly to the occasion. ‘No, dear. Sorry. Then it’ s all right. I'll have the car for Saturday. Brant disappeared, closing the door be- hind him with great gentleness. Fenella was still in her chair when he returned. She still appeared to be thinking. But neither of them again mentioned the case of the un- fortunate typist that night. It was agreed to be bedtime, and both were discovered to be extremely sleepy. Indeed though Brant spoke once or twice of the approaching week-end and explored a road map, Fenella did not mention the lady for the rest of the week. And though she looked at her husband sometimes in a manner which invited in- quiry or confidence, Brant never seemed to catch her eye on these occasions. Even a sigh did not recall him to an interest in the problems, whatever they were, which caused it. And formerly a sigh had always been sufficient to introduce a full discus- sion of the servant difficulty or the extraor- dinary habits of bills, with plenty of sym- pathy to follow. This, and other things, made Fenella un- easy, but even to the last moment she hardly believed that her husband was in earnest. She could not help thinking that he was incapable of such an impropriety so rash an indifference to the accepted code of behavior. She might have been angry with him for taking advantage of her own position, which was after all a very dif- ferent one, if she had not suspected him of a bad joke. So that the arrival of a large closed car at her door just after lunch on Saturday, and the appearance of Brant rushing upstairs for his suitcase were almost as surprising as his first revelations. She met him on the landing in a very serious temper. “Johnny, you don’t mean to say you’re | really going to Brighton alone with this | woman? ” “This woman, dear? Is th at a kind way of speaking of the poor ‘*Who is she, then? Isn’t shea wom an?” “Mrs. Symons is of course a —— “Mrs. Symons!” “Didn't I say—I thought I told you it | was Mrs. Symons. And really, Fenella, | you seemed to approve the other day. It’s | a very reasonable idea, or so it see ms to me. I’ve no doubt the vicar’s wife — Fenella turned round and marched down- stairs. Brant went into his dressing room, October 9,1920 closed both doors and lit a cigarette. When he had finished the cigarette he began leisurely to pack. On the whole, he looked very cheerful—thoroughly in the holiday mood. Once or twice his lips even pursed themselves for a whistle, but he did not whistle, and whenever he caught himself about to whistle his face again assumed that high-minded and virtuous expression of a good man doing his duty. At last he shut up the suitcase and slowly descended the stairs. His ears and eyes were attentive, and he was hardly aston- ished when Fenella came suddenly out of the morning room, seized him by the arm, said ‘“‘ Hush” in a most conspiratorial tone, and drew him into the front garden. She shut the door behind her. And Fenella was fully dressed for motoring! “What’s this?” said Brant, gazing at her. “Darling, I had an inspiration. It’s a reconciliation. I just went out and asked Mrs. Symons to come into the drawing- room, and there they are together, and I want you to take me for a drive till they’ve finishe d settling things.” “But, dear, are you sure that was very c onside erate ‘Darling, it’s a splendid idea. Nothing could be better. Now don’t say the at it’s not usual or proper or conventional.’ “TI wasn’t going to, but “‘Get in! Get in! We mustn’t wait here.” Fenella triumphantly dragged Brant into the car and waved to the chauffeur. They drove off. “Look here, Fenella,”” began Brant with some severity, ‘you can’t treat people like this. Conventionality be hanged! But do you think that those two will stay in the room for more than a minute after they spot each other? It’s absurd, and they’ll ramp all over the place.” “I think so,” said Fenella cheerfully. “Think what?” “That they'll stay. “Do you? Why?” with a sarcastic in- flection. **T locked the door.”’ Brant was still struggling with his feel- ings, whatever they were, when Fenella sweetly continued: “I think I was justi- fied, dear, in such a good cause. After all, no one can say we haven’t done our best for the Symonses, and they are really rather de pressing pe ople. *g ‘I suppose they are,” Brant admitted after a short pause, as for reflection, ‘“‘and I can’t pretend that I like depressing peo- ple. I'm afraid it is very conventional of me, and I don’t like to think of myself as an unconventional man, but ‘The really most conventional thing,” remarked Fenella thoughtfully, “is to try to be unconventional.’ “Propriety is certainly original,” Brant agreed. “And of course the garden window is open,” suggested Fenella. But this made them laugh, and in the laughter was dissolved the last of Symons. So ~ a

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Birrmemer ser re rete oe Treating Fence Posts THE SATURDAY EVENING POST WOOD PRESERVATION A timely talk of interest to all users of structural wood PUBLISHED BY US EVERY FEW WEEKS IN THE SATURDAY EVENING POST _ The Farmer’s Opportunity to Aid Conservation Prof. Ralph S. Hosmer, Head of || Department of Forestry, Cornell || University, says: ‘‘A woodlot properly managed is a || bank that never refuses the farmer's | draft. Every farm has constant need of wood, and a wood- lot is not only an asset to the prop- erty, but, when wisely used, helps to conserve the Nation’s timber supply. A good share of the material need- ed for construc- tion, for repairs to vehicles and im- plements, and for fencing as well as for fuel, can be obtained from the woodlot. This saves money that would otherwise be paid for high priced lumber. Treatment with preservatives will lengthen the life of wood and also per- mit the use for construction purposes of many species which otherwise could be used only for fuel.’’ Pror. Races S. Hosmer Facing the Reckoning The law of supply and demand can- not be successfully ignored for long. The day of reckoning always comes. Due to generations of extravagance, America’s forests are vanishing like swiftly melting snow. Three-fifths have already disappeared, while we This woodlot furnished the farm firewood, round timbers and lumber for repairs and construction. Fence posts, cut from stunted pines, and creosoted, were most of them good for many years’ service after being set ten years. (Courtey U. 8. Forest Service.) grow less than one-fourth our yearly consumption of timber. And yet, wesit idle in the face of impending famine. Two means of meeting this con- dition present themselves—conserva- tion and preservation. Conservation, while a national undertaking, can be greatly aided by the farmer developing his woodlot,as Prof. Hosmer pointsout. Wood equipment—cane wagons, cane cars, barges, etc.—should be carbosoted to protect from decay. ( N the anne as well as on the farm, de cay of structural wood appears as the chief reason for expensive repairs and replacement on tuildings and equipment Whatever the cause — ordinary rot, dry rot or wood-destroying insects—this loss from decay is preventabk Simple preservative treatments with Carbo- sota Creosote Oil are economical, sure, decay- insurance that reduce repair and replacement costs. Furthermore, inferior grades of lumber, often available locally, will prove satisfactory, long-enduring structural material when car bosoted. The savings effected by the use of Carbosota will pay the interest on loans which can be used for further development and im provement of the property There is no limit to the plantation equipment that can be insured against deca sills, four dation posts and floor joists of buildings; der ricks, wagon floors, cane-car floors and sills, et« Lumber Economy on the Plantation and Farm Sap-pine, cypress and tupelo shingk whict last, untreated, but very few years, will serve a generation if carbosoted, and will not war; On the farm, Carbosota is also invaluable i keeping down building upkeep. It is used in tl preservation of floors and sills in barns, shed chicken houses, pig pens and other outbuild s fo ings, as well as r fence posts and the treat ment of staves for silos before erection, et Carbosoting wood for d the ensilage Carbosoted wood I trongly repels the common speci t and vermin The planter or farmer HW find Carbe extremely easy » use; a paint brush, cheay praying pump or home-made treating tank either one will serve. Write for booklet No. 451-—‘‘ How to make Farm Timbers Rot Proof" or for free folder No, 407—**Creosoted Wood for Sugar Plant tion Hog houses and fencing provide exceptional opportunity for saving by treatment with Carbosota. Meanwhile if we a//, as individuals, follow efficient rules for preservation, giving our forests a chance to recuper ate through sound conservation, the impending lumber crisis may be in definitely pe stponed. 50% Saving on Mine Timber Today the lumber problem in the mine is serious. Results gained from using perishable local woods are un satisfactory, while the more durable gradesare costly and difficult toobtain. The life of timber in main haulage ways, main entries, or entries used as “air returns,” can be lengthened from two to four times by Open Tank treatment with Carbosota. In fact, every stick of timber used above or below ground, for temporary or permanent structures, should be carbosoted both for the preser\ ation of the owner's poc ketbook and as an aid to national conservation. Cut Car Shortage with Carbosota Daily we read of the commercial tic -up due to th short Open Tank Process Removing decayed roof boards over textile mill—the penalty for neglecting to protect the erection. (Courter F. J. Howie, Big., Assoc. Factory Mutual Fire Ins. Cos, Beton, Mass.) Treat Your Poles Because of present production con- ditions, seasoned cedar poles are searee, This is noe reason, howe ver, why pok users should not enjoy the economy of wood preservation. To meet the “green pole” difficulty, pur chase the poles three to six months in advance, allowing them to thoroughly ason, and then treat them with Carbosota by the Open ‘Tank process. Several of the more progressive pub lic utilitie corporations have installed plants at comparatively small cost, for carbosoting pok s and cross arms, ‘ as well as lumber for ave of freight cars. Thousands of wooden carsarelyingidleawatt ing repairs due to tim ber decay. Pr serva tive treatment of car timber with Carbosota construction purposes With such plants, it is al o possible to salvage old y rf S, carbosoting the sound portions and using them for short pol line S and uy will prevent —certainly postpone rotting of qoors, sills, and roofs, and the conseq ut nt th up of rolling stock. Carbosoting your car timber will cut your repair bills in half. The Ideal Roof Deck Protected from decay by carb soting, wood makes the ideal roof deck for paper, textile mills and all other buildings where excessive humidity exists. Carbosoting lowers the per year cost of the root deck, prevention of decay re Whileproperpreserva tive treatment requires a few simple changes in the present operations of the mine, it results in a sav ing of approximately 50% on the timber item. Write for free folder, duces the fire hazard, while there is a great saving due to the fact that manufacturing op erations are not intet rupted by repair work. Write for free folder “Longer Life for Mine Simple Open Tank process creo- No. 408, which cove rs the Timbers,” No. 409. soting tank operated by a coal mine in Illinois subject in great detail. A cedar pole creosoting plant, showing charge in right hand tank, Osts. We shall gladly send folder No te » are you — free | 406, entitled “Creosoted P. Economical.” Write Us Today It you cannot obtain Carbosota lox ally, tell us, and we will see that youare supplied. Address all inquiri to our nearest office. Erecting frame work of ready-made butid ing, manufactured by American Farm Puild ing Co., Minneapolis. Sills and points of con tact of uprights are treated with Carbosota Put upin 1, § and 10 drums and tank cars What is Carbosota? Carbosota Creosote Oil is a highly refined and specially processed Coal-tar Creosote, par- ticularly adapted to Surface treatments (brush treatment or painting, spraying and dipping), and the Open Tank process. It conforms to Iii gallon cans, also metal = stan lard specifications. | Grade-One Liquid XKKNYD I ui B ARRI rt ¢ OMPAN \ The Banl Company New York Chicago Cleveland ( incinnatt Birmingham Kansas ¢ Syracuse weuttl Salt Lake City Bang Youngstown Milwauk Latrobe Bethiet Philadelphia Boston t Loui } I roit leans 1 hh lullas ashi ville ! " mta Duluth hin Johan wo Lebanon 1 ' kK ' l buf Ba I Limited M real loront Winniper B Halitax In

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48 Gwen COUT eer a THE wuitaitr’ 9865 9990085000388 5 90065585550 5+ 0558855585555 568 925958055 ; —e “a. = * f 4 4 5 - ‘= « Vy: Tita te 2 E 4 u7 ~~ q > : 5 rs “? ee lk z=. Ihe spends rf ae ‘ i pail.) wi 4 t * he ie ' , Fe 4 “# AS PRADIVARL recognized no limit of quality in violin-making when he opened his little attic shop in Cremona. He aimed to make better violins, if possible, than any made before. Today Many years ago, when The Baldwin Company began to build pianos, it recognized no limit of achievement beyond which it the Stradivarius is considered incomparable. might not go. And ever since, its continuous aim has been to produce instruments with the care and skill that would make the name “Baldwin” stand for supreme excellence in the piano world. Knowing this policy underlying the design, materials and construction of Baldwin Products, the master craftsmen of the piano trade have naturally gravitated towards the Baldwin Company. Today the great Baldwin Factories are operated by a group of piano builders whose like never has been found in The re one organization ult Is incomparable pianos and player- Wherever you live you may hear and try any Baldwin ule prano or player-prano without obligation dD hooklets and name of nearest dealer on request THE BALDWIN PIANO COMPANY Factories at Cincinnati and Chicago NEW YORK LOUISVILLI CHICAGO ST. LOUIS INDIANAPOLIS CINCINNATI SAN FRANCISCO DALLAS DENVER a: E i: E SATURDAY EVENING POST y Builder of Incomparable PIANOS and PLAYER-PIANOS October 9,1920 Baldwin Products THE BALDWIN PIANO Grand Prize-Paris and St. Loui The only American Piano ever so honored THE ELLINGTON PIANO THE HAMILTON PIANO | THE HOWARD PIANO THE MANUALO The Playger- Piano that isall but hum Built in its entirety by Baldwin. Not an assembled instrument Available in any of the Baldwin | made Pianos, Grands and Up rights, Enables you to play through the pedals asa pianist plays on the heys. Responds to the subtlest musical feeling. You play the Manvalo;: you do not operate it esttesest sess st-se tt sree —

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—EoO7OOO 4 Se ae ’ i ' ; UNITED STATES CIVIL SERVICE COMMISSION, WASHINGTON, D. C., AuGusT 19, 1920. THE Epitor, THE SATURDAY EVENING Post, PHILADELPHIA, PA. Sir: In THE SATURDAY EVENING Post for August sev- enth there is an article by Mr. George Kibbe Turner under the caption “The Wonders of Washington,” in which the following passages appear: It [Washington] 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. That’s Washington—mentally, morally and physi- cally. It’s the town of the ultimate consumers. - « «+ Where everybody’s making a business of con- suming as hard as he can in place of producing. Hundreds of them [government clerks] are window gazers, clock astronomers, just like the average schoolboy. If they were working for you or me, producing, they'd know that they’d either show us a profit or get out. Here they know they won’t get out unless a miracle happens or they murder somebody. They're sure of their board and clothing, without worrying, just like the schoolboy. There is a lot more to the same effect. The Commission cannot believe that it was Mr. Turner’s intention to give an impression that government employees are a species of parasite on the body politic, although it would not be difficult for an unthinking person to form that impression from his article. The business of government, of course, must go on, and some thousands of employees are necessary to make it go on. The Commission takes issue with Mr. Turner in his view that the government organization is not concerned in pro- ducing, but only in consuming. An entire issue of THE SATURDAY EVENING Post would not contain a specifica- tion of the instances in which the government force is directly engaged toward producing. A few outstanding examples, however, may be mentioned, such as the intro- duction into the United States by government employees of the navel orange; the fight to a standstill by govern- ment employees of the boll weevil; the work of govern- ment employees which resulted in raising Egyptian cotton in the United States; the practical eradication by govern- ment employees of yellow fever from the Southern States; the introduction into the mining industry by the Bureau of Mines of safety devices, which has resulted during the past ten years in the saving of thousands of lives. The cotton boll weevil has been one of the most stubborn enemies of production that the Department of Agriculture has ever had to deal with, but the department’s experts have at last found how to control the pest by dusting the field with calcium arsenate. Here is what it did on an abandoned field—a field where the weevils were so numer- ous that the farmer had given up all hope of getting a crop from it: The department men went in and cultivated it. They dusted a strip down the middle and left the two strips on the sides unpoisoned. One of the unpoisoned strips made forty-eight pounds of cotton to the acre, and the other sixty pounds. The poisoned strip produced 480 pounds of cotton to the acre. That meant $168 an acre more for that cotton than if the plants had not been dusted. A story as interesting could be told about scores of opera- tions of nearly every branch of the Government. But why goon? The tale would be practically endless. Are these things not a part of production? The Commission believes that they are and that any fair-minded man must admit that they are. The technical and scientific forces must, of course, have the assistance of clerks, stenographers, and so forth. So they all have to do with production. Can it be contended that a bookkeeper in a shoe factory, for example, is not engaged in production—that only the manual worker at the bench produces shoes? That seems to be the Bolshe- vistic idea. It may be said that these particular workers cited by the Commission are not in Washington, and that Mr. Turner’s article specifies Washington. Every business must have headquarters in and be managed from some place. The government business is managed from Washington. The scientific and other workers in production in the field have their work outlined and directed in Washington. The work of the Farm Loan Board, the Land Office, the Geological Survey, the Reclamation Service, the various bureaus of the Department of Agriculture, the Bureau of Standards, the Bureau of Fisheries, the national banking system and every other government agency for production is, of course, managed from Washington. As to “window gazers, clock astronomers”’ in the gov- ernment service, the Commission is willing to go on record as saying that, considering the entire Federal civil service, the taxpayers of the United States receive a greater return THE SATURDAY EVENING POST in service for the amount of money expended in salaries than any other large employer in the United States. The backbone of the Federal civil service is made up of some thousands of underpaid scientists, clerks and others who stick to their government positions in the face of attrac- tive offers from private business, because, it must be, of their love of the work itself, for the Federal civil service does offer an opportunity where individual tastes may be developed and where real, constructive work, big, inter- esting, clean work—may be done. The Commission could fill another issue of THE SATUR- DAY EVENING Post with a specification of instances of unusual efficiency in the civil service, efficiency in spite of discouraging conditions. It is not claimed that the system is perfect. It can be improved by providing the most human of all incentives to work—that is, just reward for work well done—decent salaries, and promotions strictly on merit. The Commission will be grateful if space can be given in an early issue of THE SATURDAY EVENING Post to this expression of its views. By direction of the Commission: Very respectfully, MARTIN A. MorRISON, President. HASTINGS-ON-HupDsoNn, NEW YORK, AvuGustT 23, 1920. EpDIToR OF THE SATURDAY EVENING Post Dear Sir: About Mr. Morrison’s criticisms of my last Washington article, ‘The Man in the Sack Suit,” I think I can fairly say that in spite of its very agreeable and temperate tone it can hardly be held to represent accu- rately, either in its main contention or in its detailed specifications, the matter which it criticizes. This particular article of the series—as you, of course, know, and as is shown, I think, quite definitely through- out the text and by specific statements at the end—is not a criticism of Washington per se, nor a statement that government has no natural and necessary activities, such as Mr. Morrison specifies at length in his second page; but a plea that Washington, following a great overexpan- sion and extension of her activities during and following war, should be restricted in her enormous expenditures and put back again into her own sphere, and out of work for which she is obviously unfitted. In framing the article the convention of an old-fashioned individual type was used to give a mouthpiece to bring out the loss to the country by the extension out from Washington of a general attitude of mind and interest which I feel is inherent in human nature engaged in most activities under a nonindividualistic social organization. That the main contention of the article—‘‘the shoving of Washington back into the District of Columbia” and its necessity —is justified seems to be taken for granted by both parties in the current political campaign, by wide press comment; in fact, almost by general consent—even, conceivably, by Mr. Morrison himself. At any rate I hold it very strongly myself, as I have shown in the article in question. So much, in general, for the main argument of the ar- ticle. To particularize on Mr. Morrison’s criticisms of it, I feel that his first page of excerpts from the text, when examined, have much of the proverbial misleading quality of any excerpts taken out of their context. The class of “window gazers and clock astronomers,”’ for example, on which Mr. Morrison dwells with special emphasis, was dis- tinctly shown to be but one type in the government forces. The governmental activities mentioned on page two of his letter could scarcely be found to be belittled or under attack by my articles—even by an extreme extension of the observation of The Man in the Sack Suit that the fact that the lack of factory whistles and material production and individual commercial responsibility created a mental atmosphere in Washington which should be closely restricted to governmental work. That there must be a Washington, that society must have governmental ac- tivity, and that these activities which are mentioned are extremely useful were certainly not questioned in this article. In the last of Mr. Morrison’s letter—dealing with the relative efficiency of government and private employees, he passes into a province of individual judgment. His observation is, no doubt, vastly wider in this field than mine; but it also must unavoidably partake of his natural enthusiasm for his own specialty; and I feel that the comment which I have made on the mental attitude of a large section of Washington's clerical force is not only quite generally upheld by observers going into Washing- ton from the ordinary business life of the country but that this attitude has been heightened by the special condi- tions in Washington through and since the war; and is being shown to-day very widely to the United States at large not only by the efforts to reduce the governmental force and pay roll but as well by the problem of the rail- roads in liquidating and rearranging the clerical forces inherited by, them from the necessarily rigid and inflexible regulation of industry and employees, which has always been inseparable from government management, and of which Mr. Morrison himself seems to complain in the second from the last paragraph in his letter. Yours very sincerely, GeorGcE K. TURNER. UNITED STATES CIVIL SERVICE COMMISSION, WASHINGTON, D.C., Sept. 4, 1920. THe Epitor, THE SATURDAY EVENING Post, PHILADELPHIA, PA. Sir: The Commission has read with much interest Mr. Turner’s comment on its letter to you of August 19, and your own reply. It seems to be beside the point to raise a question whether or not the main contention of Mr. Turner's article was discussed in the Commission's criticism. What- ever else it contained, the article made certain definite statements that Washington—that is, the government force—is not concerned in producing, but only in con- suming. The Commission took exception to that asser- tion. It expressed its views in the matter fully, and further comment on that subject seems unnecessary, except to say that the Commission does not find that separation from the context makes the excerpts appear any more or any less unjust. The Commission stands by its claim that the taxpayers of the United States are receiving in service from the Federal civil force as a whole abundant return for the salaries paid. Yet the civil service is not at the highest possible point of efficiency. The following is typical of letters received almost daily by this Commission: “How can you expect to get first-class men for this work at $3000 to $3600 a year? We pay our men $6000 and expenses.” This letter came from the Western manager of a large oil concern and was prompted by the announcement by the Commission of an examination to fill a position of expert driller under the Bureau of Mines. The employment policies of the Government should be such as to serve as a model for private employers. The present methods cannot so serve. It is not fair to the employees to pay wages out of al proportion to living costs. Neither is it fair to the public The Commission believes that adequate salaries and other changes would result in the release to private industry of a considerable number of men and women now employed by the Government. A more stable force would make possible a smaller force without decreasing the sum total of achievement. The average earnings. of Federal em- ployees in the District of Columbia for the year 1919 are estimated at $1320. The average outside the District of Columbia was certainly not greater. The turnover in the government service is tremendous Abnormal turnover, of course, means waste—lost motion and increased personnel. The Commission does not be- lieve that the thousands of workers who leave the govern- ment service to enter private employment do so to “find the full producer’s incentive,” as you have suggested, unless by “ producer’s incentive” is meant the expectation of a fair return for their labor. The Commission has made it clear that, in its view, a strong producer's incentive exists in the government service, and that this incentive, the work itself, holds great numbers of the best public servants in spite of higher wages in private industry. The Commission has some definite ideas as to how the civil service of the United States can be improved. Briefly stated, they are as follows: 1. A reclassification and readjustment of duties and sal- aries of government employees SO as to correct inequalit if which have arisen as the result of injudicious practices in the past and place government salaries in proper relation with those in private employ. This does not necessarily mean a raise in pay for everybody. It means fitting the salary to the job. A large part of the force outside the District of Colum- bia has already been reclassified and readjusted. Effective July 1, 1920, the entrance salaries of postal employes were substantially increased and provision was made for automatic advances, depending upon good work, for a certain number of years, after which the rule of the sur- viva! of the fittest will prevail. This increase in the pay of postal employees, without corresponding increases in the pay of other Federal civil employees, has resulted in still

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more confusion by creating a marked disparity in salaries of employees in different branches of the service who are engaged in practically the same grade of work. The natural result is that the postal service is being recruited at the expense of other branches 2. A system of promotions on merit throughout the service under competent central jurisdiction. Haphazard practices in promotions have resulted in discouraging conditions. A system in which the employees themselves, the department interested, and the central governing agency ere all represented is entirely feasible. This Com- mission is a firm believer in participation by employees in all matters which concern their welfare. No such system could be completely effective unless it held dismissal as a penalty for falling below a fair standard. 3. A provision for promotion of worthy subordinates ponsible and, therefore, the more to most of the more res remunerative positions, ex¢ luding poli y dete rmining posi- tions, such as cabinet offices. Under the present system the higher positions too often are held as reward for service to the political party in power. No lengthy argument should be needed to convince any intelligent person that the prospect of advancement through merit to the super- visory offices would tend to improve the quality of appli- cants for government employment and to increase the effort of the employees. Moreover, an administrative officer who holds his job because he has earned it is more likely to produce efficiency in the force under him than is a beneficiary of the plum tree A fundamental difference between the business of the Government and that of a private enterprise is that the goverrment business does not aim at profits. Making money for his employer is the ultimate test of the worth of an employee in private busine The expectation of reward for results produced is a spur to effort. The test of money profits is lacking in the government service, but incentive to work need not be. The way to establish real efficiency in the public service is by so improving condi- tions that employment by the Government may be re garded as a career earnestly to be sought; by establishing a real merit system, in which the employees themselves participate, which promises reward for work well done, dismissal for failure It is difficult to estimate how many Federal employees could be released to private business under proper employ- ment methods, but it is believed that the number would be worth while On June 30, 1916, there were 480,327 persons employed in the executive civil service of the United States. The best estimate that can be obtained at this time is 691,116, as of July 31, 1920. This total shows the present force to be more than 200,000 greater than the prewar force. The foregoing figures cover the entire Federal civil service, both at home and abroad, and all grades and classes, from the highest executive or diplomat to the alien laborer working on the Panama Canal, and the humble charwoman. They include the administrative forces of the SMALL-T By ROBERT QUILLEN A Fable N A CERTAIN land there lived an important citizen, a slave and a number of ordinary men. The important citizen owned a large tract of land, cultivated it diligently and prospered. His ego grew with his wealth, and constant reflection concerning his own worth taught him to think himself greater than the law One morning he announced his intention of trampling across a cornfield owned by a poorer neighbor and seizing the goods and lands of the ordinary men who dwelt near him. The ordinary men and the slave, drawn together by a common danger, procured weapons and met the impor- tant citizen in combat. In the midst of the battle the slave burst the chains that bound him, and forgetting all else save his new-found liberty retired from the fray to enjoy his freedom. The ordinary men fought on until the im- portant citizen was beaten to his knees, and having ex- acted from bim certain lands and goods as penalty for his sins retired to their homes to mend their wounds. Moderation is taught by satiety. When one who has been destitute becomes wealthy he will scatter his money to the winds. One who has a new car feels a compelling urge to step on her and discover what she can do. Liberty made the slave drunk, and having had no experience in self-control or training in respect for other influence than brute force, he slew his master, wasted the master’s goods, and developing thus an appetite for plunder set out to seize the goods and lands of the ordinary men, as the im- portant citizen had done before him. Now the ordinary men had by hard experience learned the strength of union, and each realized that the new 50 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Emergency Fleet Corporation but do not include workmen in shipyards under the corporation or employees on mer- chant vessels. They also include 40,996 fourth-class post- masters, whose average compensation is not over $400 or $500 a year, 17,772 clerks in third-class post offices and contract postal stations, who receive only nominal pay from the Government, and 19,179 contractors on mail routes. On June 30, 1916, there were 35,477 Federal employees in the District of Columbia. The highest figure reached in the District of Columbia during the war period was 117,760. On July 31, 1920, the force in the District of Columbia was 90,360. The net reduction in the District of Columbia, there- fore, has been about 27,000 since the armistice was signed. The reduction in the field has, of course, been much greater. The figures for the District of Columbia are practically exact. Strictly accurate figures for branches outside the District of Columbia have been unobtainable since the United States entered the war. Large numbers of field officers throughout the country have been furnished with lump-sum appropriations, and many thousands of tem- porary employees have been added and dropped from time to time with such rapidity as to make it out of the question to make any reliable compilation as of a certain date. The total for the whole service on July 31, 1920, which has been stated as 691,116, is reasonably accurate. The Commission is now taking steps to compile strictly reliable personnel figures. While the Federal civil service force is now more than 200,000 greater than before the war, it does not seem pos- sible to reduce it by that number. Further heavy reduc- tions, however, are to be expected as a matter of course. Principally by acts of Congress, the duties of most branches of the service have been tremendously increased, and some bureaus have been created which did not exist before the war The civilian forces of the War and Navy Departments must be maintained at an increase in proportion to that in the military and naval establishments and programs. For example, the mechanical and laboring forces at navy yards and naval stations throughout the country numbered approximately 21,000 before the war. Now the number is more than 85,000. Larger appropriations necessitate larger clerical forces. It requires more bookkeeping to administer the expendi- ture of $4,000,000,000 than it did for $1,000,000,000. The Bureau of Internal Revenue has a greatly increased force to collect the taxes and to administer the prohibition act. The Department of Justice also is affected by the latter The Bureau of War Risk Insurance now has about 7000 employees, as against nearly 17,000 at the highest point. When the Liberty Bonds were sold during the war they were put out in temporary form. Now the facilities of the Bureau of Engraving and Printing are taxed to the utmost OW N menace was more terrible than the old; but each was en- gaged at the task of cultivating the lands he had taken from the important citizen; each felt his sore spots and shuddered at the thought of another conflict; each felt the need of preserving his strength lest the important citizen should endeavor to start something a second time; and the division of the important citizen's goods had left each a little suspicious and a little envious of the other, so that no spirit of comradeship held them together. The slave, having nothing to lose and being without scruple, pillaged the fields and corrupted the servants of the ordinary men, and the land was given over to loot. The moral is not that slaves should be kept chained, but that free men should remain close together and keep their clubs at hand until a liberated slave has had his fling and settled down to a calm and orderly existence. Imagination ae E men are submerged by circumstances. Wright was submerged by a sense of his own little importance. When in the presence of other young men he felt inferior because he could not say the cynical and dare-devil things they said. When in the presence of young ladies he felt inferior because he could not patter nonsense and parry the good-natured shafts of their wit. At the factory he flushed each time the foreman addressed him, and felt his heart pound when the superintendent walked briskly past October 9,1920 to print the bonds in permanent form, while the clerical work necessary to exchange them for the temporary issues is considerable. The payment of interest on these bonds and similar details will keep a large force busy. The Bureau of the Census is now employing between 6000 and 7000 temporary workers on the fourteenth census. The Adjutant General of the Army needs a much larger force than his prewar staff to perfect and maintain the records of 4,000,000 more soldiers. The Civil Service Commission has more work to recruit for a force many thousands greater than before the war, especially under existing abnormal conditions. To the foregoing may be added the increased force of the Interstate Commerce Commission, the air service of the Post Office Department, the United States Shipping Board, the Federal Board for Vocational Education, the work in connection with the civil service retirement act, which is divided between the Bureau of Pensions and the Civil Service Commission, and many other additions. The civil force can and will be reduced considerably below the present figure of 691,116, but it seems certain that the prewar figure of less than 500,000 never again will be reached. It costs the taxpayers of the United States considerably more than half a billion dollars a year to pay their Federal employees. That is a very good reason why they should interest themselves in the kind of men and women they employ, the conditions under which they work and the manner of their working. Taxpayers can have a civil service that is as near one hundred per cent efficient as necessary governmental regulation will permit as soon as they interest themselves in the institution sufficiently to insist upon a businesslike administration of the public business. To the public that means improved service to those who foot the bills, through improved morale of the workers and through retention of highly trained men and women now leaving the service in great numbers because of attractive offers from private business, as well as a reduction in the number of workers necessary to keep the machinery of government in motion. As you have said, THE SATURDAY EVENING Post has recently printed articles containing constructive criticism of departmental administration. These have been read with profit by this Commission. The Commission expresses its appreciation of the fair- ness of THE SATURDAY EVENING Post to both sides in matters of controversy. By direction of the Commission: Very respectfully, MARTIN A. MORRISON, President. . Editor's Note—These letters are presented as an interesting contribution to the discussion on a reorganization of the nation’s business. Our views on this, as on other matters, will be found on our editorial page his machine. He did his work well and at night he studied, determined to be worthy of promo- tion if some miracle should bring him opportunity and the courage to accept it. One evening he read an ancient story of a wonderful king who quit his throne at times and worked incognito as a tailor in order to learn the hearts of his people. As a tailor the king endured many affronts, but they affected him little, for he was forever conscious of his hidden royalty. Wright found the story a key to a new world. He pre- tended being a king in disguise. When those who formerly had made gibes and found pleasure in his discomfiture sought again to make sport of him he smiled tolerantly and went his unruffled way as a good king should. One morning the foreman did not appear for duty, and the superintendent and the big boss spoke in grave tones of his sudden death and the lack of a man to fill his shoes. Wright heard, and said to himself: “I am a king and by no means as worthless as I seem.”” Then he left his ma- chine and stood in front of his superiors. “‘I heard you speak of the foreman’s death,” he said. “I have studied his job for two years in order to be ready for it. I can handle it and you can depend on me.” The big boss and the superintendent exchanged as- tonished glances and then turned again to measure Wright. In his face and bearing they saw the calm assur- ance peculiar to men who know their jobs and see visions of bigger things, and they said in unison: “You are foreman.” One may feel more important than he is, but few are more important than they feel. —a- ! es ——

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST > Wonderful for Linoleum! You'd think it was new linoleum now, wouldn't you ? There’s a wonderful absorptive power in that soft, crumbly Bon Ami Powder—it just drinks up grease and grime like a sponge! You can clean linoleum by any other method you please and then immediately make a visibly cleaner bright spot on it with Bon Ami Powder. lor linoleum, congoleum or oil cloth. **Hlasn't Made in both cake and powder form cratched yet 1""

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, THE SATURDAY EVENING POST October 9, 1920 ‘Two Million sensational success was registered when Auto- Lite Number 2,000;000 was shipped. It is needless to emphasize that this unparalleled volume could not be possible except for highest quality — quality that has been maintained consist- ently for ten years. More than 2,000,000 cars are uto-Late As a manufacturing feat in its field this achieve- ment is remarkable—but even greater is its proof of public approval. The demand for Auto-Lite from car builders and car owners is based on con- fidence, born of perfect performance and backed by most effective service. equipped with Auto-Lite Systems. Starting, Lighting & Ignition OFFICE AND WORKS OLED . I LEDO, OHIO Willys Light Division of Electric Auto-Lite Corporation: ELECTRIC AUTO-LITE CORPORATION Manufacturers of Electric Light and Power Plants for Farms, Etc. DETROIT SALES OFFICE 1507 KRESGE BLDG Se — ge ~ a

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Generally Shocked ILEY WILSON, one of the best story- tellers who ever came out of the South, loves to go to horse races when he is not playing politics in his own state. Indeed he owns a string of race horses. At the Latonia track once during a meet Riley ran into a friend of his from Tennes- see, and in the goodness of his heart gave him a tip on a horse which Wilson had entered for one of the events. The friend excused himself and went away for a few minutes, and when he returned to where Wilson sat in the grand stand he confessed that he had wagered practically every cent he had on Wilson’s entry; which admission might be taken as evidence of sporting blood, inasmuch as it developed that he had never seen a running race before and never before had wagered any money on one. The gee-gees were off to a flying start. At once Wilson’s horse and another con- tender took the lead. Together the pair of them fought it out all the way round, the field floundering in the ruck far behind them. Neck and neck the leaders swung into the home stretch, and neck and neck they thundered toward the goal. A scant ten feet from the wire the rival horse gave a convulsive leap and won by half a nose from the Wilson colt As this dreadful thing happened, Wilson’s friend fell back in his seat, pawing at him- self with both hands. Rallying slightly he proceeded to take inventory, as it were, of various parts of his anatomy. “Was it much of a shock to you? Wilson. “Much of a shock?” echoed the loser. ‘*T ain’t been all over myself yet, but as fur as I’ve gone here’s what’s happened to me: My watch is stopped, both my sus- penders is busted and my glass eye is cracked right through the center.’ ” asked Two Reasons for Going OME years ago E. H. Sothern revived the famous comedy Our American Cousin, playing the part of Lord Dun- dreary, the same part in which his father had delighted another generation of play- goers more than a quarter of a century be- fore. Afterward in discussing the success which had attended his own interpretation of the réle the younger Sothern told this story: “You know the piece ran for many months in London at the time when my THE SATURDAY EVENING POST One night in the father was starring in it. middle of the second act a foppishly dressed person of a bored aspect arose from his seat in the third row of stalls, put on his coat, yawned and started up the aisle. ‘My father stepped to the front of the stage and said: ‘One moment, my dear sir. ‘The departing patron halted and looked back. “What is it?’ he asked in a drawl. ‘Did you know that there are two more acts after this one?’ said my father ““*Oh, yes,’ said the swell. ‘That’s why I’m going.” The Song of a Shirt HERE used to be a newspaper man in New York who was noted for two things, namely: His generosity to his friends and his utter inability to show any responsibil- ity in the matter of discharging financial obligations. “Blank is a curious chap,” said a fellow writer one day in speaking of him. “‘If you needed it he’d give you the shirt right off of his back —but he wouldn’t pay the wash- woman for washing the shirt.” Moral Health N OFFICIAL investigator was inquir- ing into health conditions in a rural district down South. In his search for facts he interviewed a negro pre ac her. “Parson,” he inquired, ““do you have many cases of pellagra among your people?’ “Mistah, my flock is probably de most moral passel of colored folks in dis whole state,”’ stated the clergyman. “Dey ain’t nary one of ’em been arrested for pellagra in goin’ on two years.” His Regular Address HREE times within the space of one week a vaudeville actor, well known on Broadway, was escorted to the same police station and booked on a charge of intoxica- tion. On each of these occasions friends who had learned of his embarrassing posi- tion bailed him out. Late Saturday night he was brought in again, with a policeman supporting him upon either side. As they held him upright before the station-house desk the offender fixed a wavering eye upon the face of the lieuten- ant who sat facing him. ‘’Ello, loot,” he said thickly, ‘“‘have you got any mail here for me?” Mr. Einstein's Restraint ARNEY BARNARD, the Hebrew comedian, says that a coreligionist of his was called on the telephone by the cashier of the bank where he kept his funds, to be informed that his account appeared overdrawn to the extent of seventeen dol- lars and forty cents. “Is that so?” inquired the depositor. “Say, listen, mister, would you look and see how much money of mine was in your bank one month ago to-day?” After a brief examination of the books the cashier reported: ‘‘One month ago to-day, Mr. Einstein, you had a credit of two hundred and twenty dollars.”’ *“*So-o-0!"”’ said Mr. Einstein. ‘Vell, did I call you up?” Uncle Gip’s Complaint HERE is a corner in a Southern state, down near the Mississippi River, where formerly lynchings occurred more fre- quently than they do these times. In the days before the rural-free-delivery system was adopted, Uncle Gip held the contract for delivering the mail in this neighbor- hood. So regular was he that the residents almost could set their clocks by him. But one day he was nearly two hours late in reaching the end of the line, where there was a tiny crossroads hamlet. Just as the citizens were forming a posse to set out in search of him, in the fear that some mis- hap had befallen him, Uncle Gip ambled | into view. “What delayed you, Uncle Gip?” asked | the postmaster. ‘ Did you happen to an ac- cident, or did an accident happen to you?” “‘Nary one, or both,” stated Uncle Gip. “But about ten o’clock this mornin’ jes be- fore I crossed Mayfield Creek I come to where somebody had done left a nigger hangin’, right thar in the public road. Well, suh, my mare she got skeered and shied back, and I jes natchelly couldn’t make her go past him noways; so finally I had to tear down a panel of rail fence and lead her through the gap and lay the fence back up again and go through the woods down into the hollow and ford the creek and then tear another gap in the fence before I could get back again on the turnpike—and that was what kept me so late.” Uncle Gip paused a moment and then went on again in an aggrieved tone: ‘‘ Honest, boys, it does look to me like there oughter be a law against havin’ a hangin’ in the public road.” on w | i lt’s Half the Sport! Half the fun in any sport is to be properly dressed for it. Your smart. They must cling to every curve, fol i t ' 1 | low every the 1 | i € lothes must be movement of body, and yet allow the maxi mum of freedom and warmth. It is upon this principle that the “NAVY-KNIT” sweaters are fashioned. Made from the fin est wool or the purest silk, they fit the form perfectly, and wear like iron. There is a “NAVY- KNIT” for every Oc- casion and we guarantee every sweater bsolute satisfaction. one togiy ea The sweater depicted above is No. 1136 A 1 Shake weater of t ¥ knitted 1 ; | heavy i ; belt , ' \ White, | \ Myrtle Green | American { Beauty, Peacock, Bull, Sizes 6 f to 46 Price tw $15.00 each j 4 Same style for ! 3 men, without ! ’ belt, No. 1120 Py Color Nav i Q White, Greer Brown, Oxford ize 4 to 46 is Price, $14.00 each : | | | | “a [ Navy Knitting Mills, Inc. Navy Knitting Mills Bidg. i 236-38 Fifth Ave., N. Y. 7 } DEALERS—Get behind the NAVY-KNIT line and you'll profit. Guaranteed Quality Merchan- 4 | dise—big value quick service pom window di pany hewWspaper cuts—moving pi re sie acked up by continuous Natic heey Advert ng. | Write for ample _

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54 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ne mee mene eres. Clean White Teeth Clean white teeth add much to the charm of men, women and children. The use of soft foods, rapid eating and imperfect mastication, by check- ing the How of saliva, are depriving the teeth of nature’s cleanser. The use of Beeman’s Original Pepsin Gum ten minutes after each meal and before retiring, by stimulat- ing the flow of saliva, will help to preserve the beauty and strength of the teeth. American Chicle Company New York Cleveland Chicago Kaneas City San Francisco Rochester October 9,1920 ANEW TRAVELER OVER AN (Concluded from Page 11) | OLD ROAD | | A banker may be sentimental when sit- | ting round his fireside at night, but during the day he should look truth squarely in the | face and remember that he has depositors | to protect. | Only in religion is the faith of our fathers sacred; in everything else we improve upon their methods, — A possible, and re- this course as natural and proper. ore than seventy years have passed since my father was in the flush of his early manhood and thought out his pres Should I ye light my way by his torch? I trust my children will improve on my errors with as much filial respect as I have tried to improve on the errors of their grandfather; I am an elderly man myself, and do not consciously lack charity for mistakes in men dead and gone. During the fifty years I have been my own master I have seen many phases of life in many | places, but if I have respect for a single un- worthy thing I do not know it; when my | frail human nature has caused me to neg- | lect the best lessons in life I have suffered mental or physical punishment. But I have some beliefs and practices my father did not accept. Exaggerating the rewards of virtue is in bad taste. A man may practice all the vir- tues and not be notably prosperous or happy; but he will get along better than the idle or unscrupulous. A good man will have pains and difficulties as surely as the wicked man, but he will have fewer of them. This is about all that may be truth- fully said in favor of virtue. At my home in the West I am frequently able to buy Southern vegetables in early spring for less than the home crop costs in August. This is a blessing, but it does not come from philanthropists; it is the result of the industry of men engaged in getting. The brotherhood of man owes me little ex- cept assistance of this kind. The vital lessons of life do not come from secluded men occupying capitol or cloister, but from the busy market place, where everything is tested intelligently. I once knew a man who had been married three times and was saturated with practical life. I have heard him say that as a boy he carried his shoes to school, before putting them on, that they might last longer. His only experience with colleges was that late in life he was a trustee of one. But he was very useful in what Thoreau would call a disreputable way—that is, he built houses and gave employment to men. I never heard of his reading much, and he was not very agreeable, but I loved his society be- cause of his common sense; his fund of real information was so great I could get more out of him in half an hour than I could get out of Adam Smith, John Stuart Mill or Henry George in a day’s reading. He made a good deal of money, but when he died we observed he took nothing with him except one suit of clothes. What he did for his town and community still persists; we are still enjoying the fruits of his energy; our young men still quote him as an example; finally, we have forgotten the mean stories on him, and do him justice. The devil is dead; but he never took so much interest in your misconduct as your neighbors did. And the neighbors are still here to watch you. A young husband complains because his wife cannot cook as well as his mother. But he was careful not to marry an old lady with his mother’s experience. In this age of freedom and impudence it is a wonder that any man confesses he is a bad grammarian; he might easily claim he is right and Lindley Murray wrong. A new idea is not enough; it must be a good idea also. I have no wish to write a well-rounded or eloquent sentence that will cause anyone to believe that which is un- true or unfair. When a man makes a promise and asks for more time in which to carry it out, be charitable; probably you have promised too much and asked for an extension of time. EVERYBODY'S BUSINESS (Concluded from Page 38) rivers, control over which is assumed by the Federal Government. Development of Niagara power is restricted by an inter- national treaty limiting the diversion of water from the Niagara River to 20,000 cubie feet per second, all of which is now utilized. Probably the most important new de- velopment that will likely speed up the utilization of sources of energy in the east- ern part of the United States is the pro- vision for a superpower survey, which measure was one of the final acts passed by the last Congress. This law provides for an investigation that may result in the con- struction of a superpower line from Wash- ington to Boston, and the establishment of a comprehensive system for the genera- tion and distribution of electricity to trans- portation lines and industries located in the region mentioned. Though the handling | of electricity over high-voltage lines is only in its infancy, the country already has a number of examples which indicate in a | small way what may be accomplished. What is said to be the highest voltage transmission on record is the line from Big Creek to Los Angeles, which carries 150,000 volts for a distance of 240 miles. The long- est high-voltage transmission line covers the 539 miles from Mono County, Cali- fornia, to Yuma, Arizona. This line carries 87,000 volts. Other lines that are in con- templation on the Pacific Coast are to carry 220,000 volts, and many engineers believe that this high figure for voltage will not mark the limit. There is no denying that some of the chief difficulties confronting the electric- utility companies have been lessened if not removed by recent state and Federal legis- lation. However, there is much yet to be | accomplished if we are to insure our future | from industrial handicaps due to a power | deficiency. Experience has shown the advisability of each state creating a state commission to regulate and control all pub- lic utilities. This will tend toward standard- ization of regulation, which is not possible under local regulation. The members of the state commissions should be appointed rather than elected, for in the latter case they are frequently embarrassed by politi- cal policies and platforms in the considera- tion of questions which should be decided only on sound economic and financial principles. The best opinion also favors substituting indeterminate permits for term franchises, so that the companies will have the right indefinitely under proper regula- tion and during good behavior, with pro- visions for the equitable adjustment of rates from time to time, as occasion demands. Such a plan would tend to elimi- nate controversies, which inevitably im- pair the public service and injure the credit of the companies involved, as well as the value of their securities. Many of the utility companies are en- couraging the sale of their securities to cus- tomers and resident citizens, and this has not only provided them with much-needed capital for development purposes but has given them the friendship of solid citizens in their community. One recent investiga- tion indicated that upward of 500,000 cus- tomers and citizens in the United States are actual holders of public-utility securi- ties with a market value in excess of $100,000,000. Recent developments in many states have shown plainly that the public does not desire cheap service at the expense of efficiency. The average citizen is a fair- minded individual and is willing to pay a reasonable price for the things he gets. He does demand, however, that all the facts of the case shall be placed at his disposal so that he may thoroughly understand the situation and act with his eyes wide open.

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 55 LISTERINE pW Lien, PHARMACAL COMPANY ST LOUIS A day seldom passes without affording beneficial uses for Listerine MOUSSA lake Lisierine With You on the franting Trip With Listerine at hand ready for immediate use, minor injuries may be properly cared for and the chance of their developing into any- thing serious minimized. When applied at once to cuts, scratches and burns, Listerine helps to prevent infection. As a mouth wash, it helps to protect against impurities which are often found in water and food. It also tends to prevent the develop- ment of bacteria which attack teeth and gums. Listerine is a beneficial lotion for use after shaving. Keep it always within easy reach for its service as a part of daily hygiene and for prompt application in case of minor emergencies. Manufactured only by LAMBERT PHARMACAL CO., ST. LOUIS, U.S. A. the safe an tiseptic

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Hel last a lifetime Teeth don’t decay of themselves. A “‘de- cayed” tooth has been eaten into by chemical agents in tiny particles of decaying food. Elim inate these dangerous particles — from in fancy on—by using half a teaspoonful of MILTON in a tum- bler of water as a mouthwash. It will help preserve the teeth and keep the gums sound and healthy. MILTON is a combined ger micide, sterilizer, deodorizer, stain antiseptic, remover an { bleach differing from any thing ever before known MILTON is just “MILTON” Use MILTON in a gargle and nasal spray tor protection against germs ac- quired from others. Bathe cuts and abrasions with it, to cleanse them from microbes and help them heal promptly. Apply it to burns and other skin irrita- tions to draw out the inflammation and soreness, Sterilize baby’s feeding bortles with it; pura little in baby’s bath, Use it for bleaching and removing stains from white linen and cotton SAFE TO HAVE ABOUT \ MILTON is non-poisonous; non-corrosive, non-infamma \ ble, yet does its great variety [ \ of work swiftly and efficiently Get the booklet with each bottle. Write us if your Drug gist or Grocer does not yet sell \ MILTON auex 0 (SHAW) & Co . NEW YORK \ veto the A Inited State 7 4 “SS a ——" 4 s make your teeth THE SATURDAY EVENING POST October 9,1920 OUR COMMERCIAL RELATIONS WITH CANADA There was a time when our commerical relations with Canada were freer than they have been with any other foreign country. It was during the period from 1854 to 1866, when our commerce was carried on under a treaty of reciprocity. The conditions lead- ing up to the negotiation of that treaty were somewhat peculiar. England had abandoned her old colonial policy and had repealed the preferences that she gave to colonial imports. This measure struck a severe blow at the wheat and lumber inter- ests of her North American possessions. What were then known as Upper and Lower Canada—that is, Ontario and Quebec— were the most populous and prosperous of those possessions, but their prosperity had depended in large measure on their access to the British market for their agricultural products. When the advantages they had enjoyed there were taken away they found themselves in serious difficulty. There was | even some talk of annexation to the United States, but the more conservative leaders contented themselves with asking for freer trade with the republic to the south. For nearly a decade efforts to establish | reciprocity were unsuccessful, but event- ually, owing in the main to the efforts of the | mother country, an agreement was reached | 1866. | try but also hamperec which actually provided for free trade in natural products. It was accepted by the United States chiefly because it also gave equal rights to the inhabitants of both countries in the enjoyment of the Atlantic Coast fisheries and provided for the recip- rocal use of Lake Michigan, the St. Law- rence and the canals. When the treaty was finally adopted it applied to the other North American provinces equally with Upper and Lower Canada. Abrogation of the Treaty In later years there was much dissension as to whether this treaty benefited in greater degree the British colonies or the United States. But the obvious fact stands out that during the eleven years when it was in operation our trade with Canada increased about threefold and that for a long time afterward no such rate of growth was main- tained. The abrogation of the treaty occurred in There had been rather clamorous opposition to it on the part of the fish, coal and lumber interests of the United States. Ill feeling had been caused also on this side of the border by the fiscal policy of Canada’s Finance Minister, Sir Alexander Galt. Projects of internal development had made it necessary for Galt to increase the Cana- dian revenues, and to that end he raised the tariff on all articles that were not enumer- ated in the treaty, which meant most of the important imports from the United States. He also provided that in valuing imports for duties the value should be taken not in | the country of origin but in the country from which articles were directly imported. This meant that European manufactures going to Canada through the United States paid duty not on their European selling price but on their selling price in the United States. Such a provision tended to destroy the business of American jobbers and car- riers who served as middlemen in the trade between Canada and the Old World. But the chief argument for abrogation advanced by Senator Morrill, as leader of the attack on the treaty, was found in our own need of revenue. The United States Government, in the years immediately fol- lowing the Civil War, was under the neces- sity of raising revenue from every possible source. The treaty with Canada not only prevented the charging of duties on the greater part of our a from that coun- the imposition of an internal tax on American produce with which the imports from Canada would compete. The lumber business, for ex- ample, in this country was prosperous and was thought to be in position to contribute handsomely through taxation to the needs of the Government. But it would have been an anomaly to tax American lumber- men while admitting lumber from Canada free of duty. In addition to these motives for abroga- tion it should be remembered that there was in this country immediately after the Civil War a widespread feeling of resent- ment at what was thought to be sympathy for the Confederacy in Great Britain and in Canada. There appears to be little doubt (Continued from Page 22) that both Congress and the public were strongly influenced by this feeling at the time that the abrogation of the treaty was under discussion. Canada and the Maritime Provinces had prospered greatly while the treaty was in effect. They had found in the United States a market for their natural products which could not readily be substituted else- where and they felt anxiety for the future when this market was closed. For thirty years, therefore, the Canadian authorities repeatedly attempted to renew the treaty which had been in large measure respon- sible for giving Canada a start on the high- = of development. ll the Canadian overtures were rejected by the United States, and frequently with a brusqueness that hurt the pride of the Canadians and kept alive a feeling that this country intended to use its strategic ad- vantage in commercial matters to take away Canada’s political independence. This interpretation of American motijves was wholly wrong, for except in the case of a few poorly informed Americans there was neither expectation nor desire in this coun- try for Canadian annexation. On the contrary, there was in general a distinct feeling of good will toward Canada and a fairly widespread willingness to re- new easier commercial relations with her. But this attitude was opposed by a small group of active and influential men repre- senting special interests or special policies who were opposed to any form of reci- procity. The arguments used by these men some- times were based on the need for revenue; sometimes on the unfavorable balance of trade that had prevailed while the treaty was in effect; sometimes frankly on resentment at the attitude of England and Canada toward the Confederacy; and sometimes on the doubtful constitutionality of reci- procity arrangements. But the chief objec- tion and the one most widely urged lay in the belief that reciprocity in any form and with any country would be a blow to the principle of protection which was dominant in American commercial policy. These arguments and objections were the more successful because of the indiffer- ence of most Americans to Canadian trade and the prevailing ignorance about Canada and Canadian possibilities. During the twenty years between the panic of 1873 and the panic of 1893 the general commerce of this country grew rapidly, but our trade with Canada made up little more than five per cent of the total. Naturally, therefore, it did not loom large as a matter of impor- tance to many American business men. For Canada, on the other hand, the situa- tion was different. The trade with the United States at that time already aver- aged upward of forty per cent of her total commerce and, together with her trade with Great Britain, it constituted nearly all that she had. Mr. Fielding’s Observation It was the abrogation of the Reciprocity Treaty and the unfriendly expressions with which it was accompanied that in- duced the British North-American Prov- inces to form a confederation in 1867, since known as the Dominion of Canada. This accomplished, the Canadians turned to the development of home industries and the opening of routes that would give them access to the markets of the Old World. As Mr. Fielding, Minister of Finance, said in 1899: “Whatever our American friends may have intended by their trade policy, there is one thing they certainly have done; they have made Canadians more independent and self-reliant and have caused them to look more steadily than before to their home market and to their markets over the sea, where there is an open door. Therefore the market cf our friends to the south of us is much less important to us that it was a few years ago and we are better able to do without reci- procity than we have been at any previous time in the history of Canada.” The hope for reciprocity died hard, how- ever, and it came up in connection with practically every discussion between the two countries until the end of the century. The last attempt made by the Conserva- tive Party was in 1891. At that time Mr. Blaine, who was our Secretary of State, in- sisted that any commercial arrangement with Canada should not be limited to nat- ural products but should include a list of manufactures and that the reduction of duties accorded to this country should be exclusive and should not apply to imports from England. The Canadian commission- ers replied that Canada could not afford the loss of revenue that such an arrangement would entail and could enter into no agree- ment from the benefits of which Great Britain and her colonies were excluded. “The announcement of these conclusions of the Canadian commissioners,” said Mr. Blaine, “was accepted as a bar to further negotiations on this subject.” There was no formal disavowal of reci- procity on the part of either Canadian party. Indeed, the Liberal platform in 1893 contained a strong reciprocity plank and the Canadian tariff until 1897 con- tinued to include an offer of reciprocity with this country in natural products. But everyone knew that in such form it was no longer a practical issue. During the discus- sion of the Alaska boundary question by the Joint High Commission in 1898 the subject was broached by the Canadian members, but an agreement does not seem to have been ardently sought, and when Sir Wilfrid Laurier returned to Ottawa he an- nounced: ‘There will be no more pilgrim- ages to Washington. We are turning our hopes to the old motherland.” More Recent Negotiations In the following decade Canada bent her efforts to developing her trade overseas at the same time that she was fostering by every possible means her domestic indus- tries. Among other measures to promote her foreign trade, two were of prime im- portance—those, namely, that dealt with transportation and with the tariff. She spent enormous sums on railways to open up the vast western regions and to get an all-Canadian route for their products to the sea. The maintenance of these costly undertakings made it necessary that hence- forth traffic should run east and west rather than north and south. “Canada,” said a speaker in the House of Commons last May, “has already spent hundreds of millions cn these enterprises and may have tospend many millions more. Her only chance to prevent that invest- ment becoming a dead loss is to keep a steady flow of traffic moving from east to west and from west to east. If ever it be- comes diverted to a north-and-south direc- tion her transportation plant might as well be scrapped.” It was and is the hope of Canadians that business enough will develop in the Domin- ion to feed her expensive railways, what- ever may be the growth of trade with her southern neighbor. But for many years to come their needs must be kept in view when commercial legislation is under con- sideration. The tariff enacted by the Liberal govern- ment in 1907 and, with no impressive changes, still in force, was drawn in three schedules; the highest applied to countries with which Canada had no special agree- ments; the lowest contained the British preferential rates; and the intermediate provided for rates that might be applied to imports from countrieythat were willing to make equivalent concessions to goods of Canadian origin. On the basis of this pro- vision Canada negotiated an agreement with France under which each country gave reduced rates to certain imports from the other. Out of this grew a new move- = reciprocity with the United States in 1911. The American tariff of 1909 had provided that goods imported from any country dis- criminating against us should pay duties eo by twenty-five per cent of their value than similar goods from other foreign countries. On the ground that the arrange- ment between Canada and France put the United States at a disadvantage, our Gov- ernment requested equal concessions on our products. Tactfully and wisely President Taft and Sir Wilfrid Laurier, then Prime Minister, settled the immediate cause of trouble, and out of their discussions there developed a much wider plan for reciprocal reduction of duties. The motives for this measure, its scope and its probable opera- tion, if it had been put into effect, are set forth in a report recently completed by the (Concituded on Page 59)

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4 ; —— equipment G-E DOUBLE- DUTY SOCKET ~~ GE ALL-NITE-LITE oS G-E REMINDO G-E QUAD- RECEPTACLE THE SATURDAY EVENING POST In planning electrical improvements, don’t forget that your door bell can be as dependable as any other feature of your home WAYNE BELL-RINGING TRANSFORMER Put electric light service behind your door bell PERMANENT cure for a sick door bell is the power plant which furnishes your electric light, connected to the bell with a Wayne Bell Ringer. No more batteries to wear out no more disappointed callers or undelivered packages because the bell didn’t ring This little transformer, attached to the wires in your house by an; electrical contractor, will prove a lasting friend of the whole family Its cost of operation is negligible, its life unlimited, and it re quires no care. Bells, buzzers, annunciators, fire alarms, doo: openers, thermostats—all of these may be operated by the proper size of Wayne; and there are sizes for hospitals, schools, apart ments, clubs, fire stations, hotels, etc While you’re buying electric things, look at the All-Nite-Lite, a tiny little device for hallway, sick room, front porch, or any other place where you want ‘“‘some light all night.’’ You can burn this lamp 300 hours for 10 cents Also, with Christmas in mind, ask to see the Wayne Toy Tran former for running electric toys from the lighting socket These are only a few suggestions—there are 3000 G-E wiring devices, man them household convenien« Look for the blue and orange picture package wt you buy things electrical An interesting booklet on electric wiring and wiring convenience written ir language you can understand, may be had f1 b addr ne ectior General Electric Company, Schenectady. N.Y electric conveniences Sold and installed by electrical contractor—dealers «. BLE C fer Ee COMPANY

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST October 9, 1920 S : Maite Gnd Party Miss Castleman's School Davy: DEAR ou say I seldom write you a long letter I want Samethion Well, this is going It’s going to be a long to tell vou, but its main object is to tell you of something you want—-something you need very badly. kather, | had the most wonderful time at the Lawrenson’s over the week end—it seems lke a tairy dream to me. 1 arrived Friday, late in the afternoon, but before any of the family came home. After to be the exception tter, because l have lots tuking off my things I went down to watch kleanor, who | knew was at a matinee. the drawing-room was in semi-darkness. | vent to the window and looked out. \ downy snow-blanket lay over everything. ihe sun had left a fajnt rose flush in the West | just above hung the slender, silver crescent moon. One by one the lights began to twinkk in the } irk; the sky purp led slowly. 1 stood | IIbound and listened —tor softly tomy ears, is if to paint indelibly upon my mind the lovely winter , came Music— Chopin Played Tenderly, Bewittching!y I listened almost breathlessly to the end. Then leaving the window, walked across to where stood a grand piano. Then I paused; cene before me there was no one there! But as | hesitated, half startled, a low laugh greeted my ears and Eleanor rose from a dim corner and came toward me. Greetings over, 1 turned again to the piano. * That mht have been Paderewski, still wondering. THE " 1 said, AEOLIAN COMPANY Inlroduci: ng “Tr was,” she rejoined. “This was Father's Christmas present to us. It is a Duo-Art I.et me show you the secret.” Paderewski's Playing Made to Live korever YVHE lifted a section at the front, disclosing S a perforated music-roll. Paderewski played it, and as he played, these cuttings were made in the roll and each touch of his fingers, each tone shade, each phrase of his interpretation was made to live torever. Just as Paderewski played his beloved Chopin at Aeolian Hall one day before he sailed for Poland, you hear it when we put this rollin the piano and press this little lever.” A theatre Party I listened to two or three lovely numbers and would have sat for hours drinking in the won der of it, but Eleanor bore me away to dress tor dinner, and the theatre. Six of us went to see “ Buddies” that meht; Eleanor’s brother Jim, with two college friends of his and her cousin Nan, who ts visiting her, too. Such a corking show—we enjoyed it immensely. The next morning we three girls went down to Aeolian Hall and bought a Duo- Art Roll of two of the quaint, dainty songs trom “ Buddies” made into the snappiest Fox-Trot. Piano. Dancing to the Musi: of the Duo-Art ATURDAY night they had a dance—four teen couples. The drawing-room was cleared tor dancing, and such music as the Duo-Art gave us! Daddy, it is the weirdest, most fascinating instrument! Imagine at one time its playing Chopin with all of Paderewski’s genius; at another, perfect dance music; one steps, fox trots, the dreamiest of waltzes—as though posse ssed of the very spirit ot Terpsi chore—dashing it off with a richness, a sparkle, clear pulsing rhythm that would make a wooden Indian dance! Singing to Perfect Duo-Art Accompaniments Thenin the interims between dances, Eleanor would put in the piano a music-roll of a popular song. Many of them have the words printed right on the roll, and what fun it was to gather ‘round the piano and sing. The vocal event of the evening, however, was Jim’s cle ar, we ll-trained tenor singing Frank La “Like a Rose Bud,” played by La Forge himself. The world’s greatest ac companists and song-writers are making record- rolls for the Duo-Art; can you imagine what this would mean to a singer or vocal student? The Magic of ‘Josef Hofmann When it was announced the next day that we were going to hear Josef Hofmann at Carnegie Hall, my cup of joy was full. For two k orge’s UOART PIAN hours we sat in that great dim hall and listened to the piano magic of Hofmann. Then home, and seated in the fire-lit dusk, we conjured thy same magic music —reveled at close range in the ravishing piano playing of the master. His technical perfection, hi incomparable beauty of tone, that mystic quality which only Hofmann evokes from the piano, were as clearly distinguishable as they had been earlier in the day at Carnegie Hall. What inspiration—what education for any one studying music to be able to hear at leisure over and over the inspired art of the great pianists such as Gabrilowitsch, Novae Grainger, Ganz—forty of them there are—whx play records only for the Duo-Art! Daddy, dear, that Sunday afternoon, I pic tured a Duo-Art in our living-room and you and I sitting on the sofa, my head on your shoulder, listening to the music that is dearest to both of us—the things Mumsie plaved often when she was with us—the “Melody in Fk,” mt he Evening Star,” “ Kamennoi Ostrow,” “To the Spring.” Great masters have played them for th Duo-Art and they sound to me as though they played them with special tenderness and sym pathy, knowing they were to place the bene diction of beautiful music in countless homes to bring sweet memories to instill the lov e of good music in the breasts of little children, to light the dimming path of those grown old! , ‘ L’ENvol AM sending you a beautitul Duo-Art Cata Ticen by registered mail. Of course, the Duo-Art costs more than a plain piano, but not so very much, and it is so wondertul it is worth anything that anyone who lov music can afford to pay. If I thought i would tind a Duo-Art when | come home tor Easter vacation, I should like, oh! so much to have week-end party like Eleanor Lawrenson’s, with the crowning touch of joy added by the pre ence of the nicest Daddy in the whole world. Yow Lonpon Parts NEW YORK CITY Mapriv Metsourne , pom nen nnn nn nn ne = 5 | | The Aeolian Company ' ay " 29 West 42d St.. New York City : tan , , Gentlemen , Wake rs of the inter Kindly send me your illustrated catalog : Foremost Manufac- nationally famous | ie Hepes ones | turers of ¢ Musical } | Phonograph — the | Nam -—-- ——— | Instruments in the leolian-Vocalion. ARN ere | World. | a = —_—- —_— —- ——_—- oe » in —_ —o

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ae a a ae |. >~— } { 3 Sa — —— a Tear re OR OR aT as TS (Concluded from Page 56) United States Tariff Commission. After long and acrimonious discussion it was passed by Congress; but it was defeated in Canada, where it formed the main issue in the general election of 1911, which brought the Conservative Party back into power. The chief arguments for the rejection of reciprocity in Canada turned on the pro- tection of her industries against American competition, the maintenance of the rail- ways, the encouragement of trade overseas, the retention of natural products for manu- facturing at home and, above all, the danger of weakening the connection with Great Britain by promoting closer rela- tions with the United States. At present public men in Canada are disagreed as to whether these arguments would still be strong enough to defeat reciprocity if it could again be submitted to the people. A motion to accept it was defeated in Parliament by the Conserva- tive majority a little more than a year ago. But the Liberals in their platform express an earnest hope “that a favorable moment may come when there will be a renewed manifestation by the two governments of a desire to make some similar arrangement”’; while the Farmers’ platform demands “that the reciprocity agreement of 1911 be accepted by the Parliament of Canada and that any further reduction of the tariff of the United States towards Canada be met by a similar reduction of the Canadian tariff towards the United States.” Mr. Crerar, president of the United Grain Growers and recently Minister of Agriculture, said in the House of Com- mons: “I believe that Canada from one end to the other is in favor of it and that this would be amply demonstrated if a dis- passionate verdict could be obtained from the people.” In this country a bill to repeal the Reci- procity Act passed the House of Repre- sentatives last October without opposition, but the Senate failed to act upon it. The general attitude in the United States is well stated by former Governor McCall, of Massachusetts, under whose leadership the Reciprocity Act first appeared in Congress. He said soon after the bill to repeal it had passed the House: “If it is ever again to become a practic al issue, the initiative will have to proceed from Canada. After one emphatic rebuff our country is not likely to appear in the position of coaxing a ne igh- bor, and coaxing her for something that is vastly more important to her than to us.” Mutual Interests And now what light is thrown on future policies by the story of our former rela- tions? Turning first to our own country, it is clear from our past negotiations that at different times Americans have been in- fluenced by different reasons in refusing to make special terms for trading with Canada. One reason only has been permanent, but that one has been fundamental and suffi- cient to account for our policy. It is found in the belief that foreign trade should not be allowed to interfere with the welfare of domestic industries. That belief has been far from universal, but it has been held by a majority of American voters for more than half a century. It is true that until recent years no serious competition in manufac- turing was to be feared from Canada. But Canada has never wanted free trade in manufactures. What she so long tried to get was free trade only in natural products, mainly in agricultural produce, lumber and fish, and to get this the concessions she offered in regard to manufactured goods were few and slight. To Americans the benefits of such a proposal appeared too insignificant to justify discriminating be- tween Canada and other countries. The Republican Party, which remained in power with brief intermissions from the Civil War to 1912, regarded Canadian reciprocity as a threat to protection. an entering wedge for free trade with the world and a one-sided bargain that prom- ised nothing worth having to this country. The adoption of reciprocity in 1911 and the addition to the free list two years later of many Canadian products indicated a change in American policy that was more apparent than real. These things were done not because the doctrine of protection was weakening its hold on men’s minds in this country. They were done because the ma- jority in Congress believed that the high prices prevailing showed protection to be unnecessary for the industries involved, whiie additional supplies of food and raw materials would check the rise in the cost of living and would conserve our waning natural resources. A recent report of the United States Tariff Commission shows that under our present tariff Canada receives on the whole terms about as liberal as those provided in the reciprocity agreement. Some eighty- five per cent of all she sends us now enters the American market free of duty and on identical terms with the domestic products of one of our own states. Whether or not these terms will be maintained appears to depend on two things: One is the effect of this trade on American industries, a sub- ject on which the Tariff Commission is now preparing a report to Congress; and the other is the policy that Canada may adopt in the forthcoming revision of her com- mercial relations. Her adoption of an unfriendly or discriminating program can- not fail to affect the policy of this country. Canada’s public men fully appreciate the importance of her trade with the United States, but there are three things they put above it as vitally affecting their country’s permanent welfare. Canadian Development Policies The first of these things is the need of revenue, a need that has enormously in- creased by reason of the war. The tariff still remains the Dominion’s most impor- tant source of income, and it would be diffi- cult to devise other taxes that would make up for a great reduction of duties on what she buys from this country, which has amounted to more than three-fourths of all her imports. Of even greater influence in shaping her commercial policy is the second consider- ation, which consists in the will of her people that Canada shall be economically as well as politically independent; a well- rounded, self-conscious, self-reliant nation- hood is the aim of all political parties in the Dominion. ‘‘As far as I am concerned,” said a member of Parliament in May, “I will readily admit anything that looks like national self-assertion; anything which ad- vances Canada along the road of nation- hood appeals to me.”’ His words express the universal feeling of his countrymen. They believe that this advancement to nationhood requires settlers for the vast empty spaces, populous and busy cities, great and diversified industries, traffic on their costly systems of railroads and canals and more and well-paid employment for labor. If these things can be achieved by re- stricting her commerce with the United States, Canada is prepared to make the restrictions. It is necessary only to make sure that the proposed restrictions will fulfill their desired purpose and not result in crippling some Canadian industries through artificially fostering others. Heavy duties on American coal, for example, might bring some benefit to the Nova Scotia mining industry, but it would damage the coke and coal consuming in- dustries farther west. Again, there has long been a Dominion statute authorizing the imposition by order of the governor and council of an export duty on crude and partially finished nickel. The purpose of such a duty would be to compel Amer- icans to bring their capital and laborers across the Border and manufacture the nickel in Canada. Thus far the governor and council have not found it expedient to impose the duty. The Canadian press has widely advocated a similar export duty on asbestos. At one time the government favored a policy of taxing the export of logs so as to draw into Canada the Amer- ican capital invested in sawmilling, but THE SATURDAY EVENING POST representations from this country accom- panied by threats of retaliation led to abandonment of the plan. The separate provinces, however, which own a large part of the supply of pulp wood, have for years prevented its export from the public lands. America has protested in vain against the restriction, and it has been necessary for American paper manufacturers to transfer to Canada many millions of dollars to erect and operate plants where the raw material could be procured. hese measures and proposals illustrate the length to which Canada is prepared to go in regulating commerce for the purpose of internal development. What new re- strictions, if any, give promise of national benefit the present government proposes to ascertain by investigation. To that end it has announced that a tariff commission will be created and directed to report on conditions in the Dominion for action at the next session of Parliament. There are at present two other parties besides the Conservative, which is in power. The older and stronger of them, the Liberal arty, adopted a platform last summer demanding “substantial reductions in the burdens of customs taxation . . . di- minishing the very high cost of living . . reducing the costs of the instruments of production in the industries based on the natural resources.”” To that end it asks, however, for free importation only of the principal foodstuffs, machinery for farms and mills, oil, fishermen’s equipment, cement and fertilizer; and for a reduction of duty on clothing, footwear and articles for general consumption. Mr. Mackenzie King, the party leader, interpreting this platform in Parliament last month, said: ‘‘ While the Liberal Party has not stood for free trade it has stood for freer trade; and while free trade is not possible, in view of conditions as they are in Canada at the present time, and is not being advocated, so far as I am aware, by any political party in this country, that is no reason why, as regards the necessities of life, we should not have cheaper food and cheaper clothing and cheaper shelter, if it is possible to have these things and at the same time get what we need in the way of revenue through such a tariff as it may be expedient to impose.”’ Preferential Tariffs Obviously the program of the Liberal Party calls for a commerce less restricted than at present, but it should not be for- gotten that this yp when it last was in power made little appreciable change in the protective system that had been built up by its opponents and that the general tariff rates to-day are much the same as when the Liberals went out of power in 1911. The third political party is composed "of the farmers, and its chief strength is in the newly settled prairie provinces. Its plat form calls for an all-round reduction of the tariff and efforts to secure “unrestricted, reciprocal trade in natural products with the United States along the lines of the reciprocity agreement of 1911." But though the leaders of this party hope to exert a certain influence on political de- velopments, the prospect of their control- ling the Dominion’s commercia! policy appears to be remote. There remains yet one other matter that Canada puts above her commerce with the United States; it is her position and op- portunity in the British Empire. The re- tention of her intimate relations with the mother country as a constituent member of the empire is as much a part of her political program as is the development of her inde- pendent nationality. The fear that closer 59 relations with the United States might weaken the ties that bind her to England was the argument most widely used for the rejection of reciprocity in 1911. It may be accepted as settled that Canada will con- sider no commercial convention that would give this country a preference over Great Britain. On the contrary, she now gives, and appears ready to increase, a marked preference to British trade. For twenty years she had admitted British goods at ower rates of duty than goods of American origin. The attitude of the Conservative Party toward this py! is found in the recent budget speech of the Minister of Finance, who said: “The principle of trade prefer ence between the different members of the Britannic Commonwealth should be main- tained and extended from time to time to such degree as may be found practicable and consistent with Canadian interests.” As for the Liberal Party, its platform de mands “‘that the British preference be in creased to fifty per cent of the general tariff.” The platform of the Farmers’ Party goes further and urges that the tariff be amended ‘‘by reducing the customs duty on goods imported from Great Britain to one-half the rates charged under the general tariff and that further gradual uniform reductions be made in the remaining tariff on British imports that will insure com plete free trade between Great Britain and Canada in five years.”’ This seems to make the sentiment unanimous in favor of Brit ish preference and room is left for party disagreement only as to the amount of it. Future Trade Relations Canada takes a sort of motherly pride in the policy of showing special favor to trade within the empire. It was she that gave it origin and first put it into effect. Since she began it in 1897 it has spread to the other self-governing British dominions, and more recently it has been favored in the Crown colonies and other dependencies. At first only the mother country was given a trade preference, but gradually the practice has been extended to include the trade among all the members of the empire. Only recently an agreement was completed between Canada and the British West Indies. The terms of the agreement are said to include preferential tariff rates and arrangements for promoting direct trade by maintaining steamship lines and better cable and postal facilities. Thus far the United States has made no protests against Canadian discrimination in favor of British trade as against trade with us. Indeed it has not as yet very greatly affected the course of commerce But extension of the preference along the lines now proposed will give cause for seri ous consideration by this country when its own commercial regulations are taken up for revision. The adoption of a policy by Canada with the special intent of compelling the transfer of American industries across the Border and of diverting trade from the United States to other countries must be regarded with grave concern. The relations between the two countries have never been more friendly than they are at present. Arrangements have just been completed for the maintenance at Washington of a Canadian minister pleni potentiary, who will have charge of Cana dian affairs and who, in the absence of the British Ambassador, will represent im perial as well as Canadian interests. In discussing this arrangement before the Canadian Parliament, Sir Robert Borden the Prime Minister, said: “The intimat« association between the people of the United States and Canada has led to a very perfect understanding between the peoples of the two countries. Perhaps there are no two nations in the world between whose peoples a more perfect comprehension exists at the present time than that which does exist between the people of ¢ vanada and the people of the United States.” It would be an unpardonable lack of wis dom to allow this mutual understanding and good will to be marred by bickerings over commercial restrictions. Tact and good will averted a serious tariff war in 1910. Assuredly it is not too much to sug gest that in the approaching readjustment! of their tariffs and other regulations both countries not only will weigh the impor tance of their mutual dependence but also will manifest in their measures the friend- liness that they undoubtedly feel.

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60 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Octcber 9,1920 No Better Examples of Over-Values , than in these New Mitchell closed car models é R i — ITCHELL now introduces new attainments in coachwork and You'd be surprised at the unusual number of extra-strong bracings. appointments—extra-fine bodies that are fitting companions to —_ And _you’d see the entire body and doors sheathed in moulded metal. the splendid Mitchell chassis. Examine the chassis, as well as the body. Note the braced frame and You can’t possibly appreciate the significance of this offering until you _ the long cantilever springs, with their rebound leaves that make shock ‘have visited a Mitchell dealer and absorbers unnecessary. These help seen the Mitchell Sedan and Coupé. to give Mitchells their wonderful We offer them as a climax of many riding ease—one can ride all day years of experien e. and not tire. hese new-style bodies are our own Note the Refracting Windshields design and are executed in our own : 7 : which make night-driving as safe coach-building plant. This, while ; and pleasant as in daylight because seemingly a simple statement, is the secret of all the extras, all the better- all glares are absent. ments. All four wheels have Timken thrust We are able to put into these bodies bearings, not merely two. The steer- what wouid otherwise have to be left ing knuckles have castor bearings, out if we bought Mitchell bodies on a costly-car practice. the open market, as is the usual cus- tom. But we do not have to pay an A book which merits study outside profit. Savings pay for extra value To itemize all the Mitchell better- ments would take more space than We not only save for you this major this page. So we have prepared an way, but in numerous other ways. illustrated description, which will \nd we turn every saving into an be sent upon request, or which may added betterment. be obtained from a Mitchell dealer. As instant and obvious proof of In justice to yourself and your fam- ‘ i “ans to you ; iyo ee “Sie what this means to you and how you ily, familiarize yourself with the wrofit by it, consider the roominess , : I 7-7 . Mitchell before you make a choice. of all Mitchell Models. Here every ‘ Bee! Contrast it with other cars of equal opposite of skimpiness is brought : ee : : Py : price. See if you agree that it brings out. the utmost for your money. Were you to see these sedan and A Mitchell dealer will be glad to note the finest rock maple and white MITCHELL PRICES: The Touring Car and the point out all the Mitchell features ash used in the frames—not ordi- Roadster, $1750. The Sedan, $2900. The Coupé, 82800. and show the many examples of nary birch or gumwood. F. O. B. Racine, Wisconsin, not including war tax. — extra-fine workmanship. coupé bodies in the making, you'd a MITCHELL: MOTORS: COMPANY: INC: RACINE : WISCONSIN

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READJUSTMENT OUR TASK (Continued from Page 19) and his relationship tosuffrage. Both topics have been talked about, but more seldom discussed. Giving precedence in this inter- view to the cost of living, what is your message?”’ “Tt will be necessary for this country to import foodstuffs, just as now it is import- ing petroleum, if our growth in manufac- turing and urban pursuits in the next few years holds its present momentum,” the nominee replied; and after a moment’s pause he vigorously continued: “‘ Food sup- ply is closely related to transportation. Of course we assume that our transportation systems—that is to say, railroads and merchant marine, waterways and pvblic roads—will keep pace with production. The problem then reverts to the farms. What of the farm? How shall we consider the interests of the farmer?” “To begin with,” I observed, “ profits on the farm should, everything else consid- ered, equal the income enjoyed in industrial work. At least the farms have lost men and tenants and even owners to the cities, especially under the stress of wartime wages.” “Exactly. It is well to propagate inter- est in owning one’s home in the cities, but it would be well, too, for the nation at large to increase or popularize the own-your- farm movement. “‘Country land suffers more from spo- radic tenancy than city land, because the temporary farmer in a short time skims the productive cream from his farm and then departs. “The constant and steadily increasing migration of our people from the farms to the cities makes it imperative that we seek the cause, to the end that the influx to urban centers be lessened. The dispropor- tionate number of urban and rural inhabi- tants is a positive menace to our well-being as a people. Our farmers are constantly complaining of their inability to keep their sons and daughters upon the farm, to say nothing of the hired man. There are thou- sands of men and women in our cities who would have done or would do better in the country. Yet no effort has been made to stay this unwise transfer of habitation, ex- cept in theory, or at most in desultory action on the part of only a small portion of the people. “Is it any wonder that the Department of Agriculture is sounding warnings about next year’s food supply? Our farming people are of the bone, fiber and mentality to face courageously all questions. Why not go further? “Nor would it be enough merely to see that in dollars and cents the farmers’ in- come shall keep pace with industrial com- pensation. The farmer wants his children to have an education; he wants them to have not a chance, but every chance. A great deal has been done to further rural education both by the nation and by the states, and the war helped in getting added results from Mother Earth for a time. Now production is slackening, and such a thing should not be.” The Contagion of Profiteering “It is well to remember, too, that the shifting of population from farm to city has been followed by a serious congestion in centers where millions, already employed and even saving money, are entirely de- pendent upon the decreasingly fewer others for the food supply. “But the price of foodstuffs, and all else that is known as the cost of living, depends upon more than the ideal farming life through improved facilities and communica- tion methods. The burden of taxation has its effect. Too many turnovers is another burden. Yet our whole economic status seems to be unnatural. Prices are high, and they will remain so until we seriously dedicate our efforts to the wiping away of things that came with the war. A turn for the better would be inevitable as soon as government expense is reduced, as I have already said. It has been repeated so often that by this time everyone should well understand that we are going to have more or less of an inflation so long as the national debt remains large. But as soon as the exorbitant taxes are modified or eliminated, as the case may be—and the Democratic Party will lose no time in undertaking the THE SATURDAY HONEST NATIONAL task after it obtains the November man- | date from the people—relief can be looked or. “The dollar is an evidence of frugality and thrift. In many instances it is the reward of virtue. Yet there have been cases where the dollar was looked upon with too intensive thought. That led to what has been commonly termed profiteering. It has been a recent contagion. If we find that in the commercial relations between men the lust for gain is satisfied by artfully created privilege, then the common law must be invoked to bring it to an end. If the law is insufficient, the quicker we know it the better. If astate does not possess the constitutional right to pass the necessary legislation, then it is in order to change the Constitution. That process is the very essence of evolution, and government must keep pace with the times and with condi- tions. If I am called to service as Presi- | dent, means will be found to combat the | tribe of profiteers which multiplied under the favoring circumstances of war.” Policy Toward Aliens “ Profiteering and sovietism— Bolshevism and anarchism,” I suggested, after an ex- change of ideas about the situation in Europe as I found it there during a visit last year, “‘go hand in hand, or are men- tioned in the same breath. Often immi- gration is thoughtlessly confused with Bolshevism, and the tendency seems to increase to regard the alien seeking shelter on our shores as a man under suspicion. | What of that?” a ; | “Well,” Governor Cox said, “‘we speak | all too flippantly of Americanism somehow. We gain the idea that if we were born in this country and we have been here since our first, second, third and fourth grand- fathers, we are the true Americans. The truth of the matter is, if we go back far enough we will find that our forefathers all came from overseas, and that those whose forefathers perchance came later than ours are entitled to be taken on the test of their records here, and in many instances—most instances, of course—they are as good | Americans as we are. “There is some hysteria over the subject | of active elements in this country that are menacing to government. There is no danger in the situation, though it might be aggravated if the governmental policy of restraint and common sense that has en- dured through the years were to become one of force and terrorism. “If the alien, ignorant of our laws and customs, cows in fear of government—our Government—he is very apt to believe that things are much the same the world over, | and he may become an easy convert to the doctrine of resistance or rebellion. But let us distinguish between the ignorant but well-intentioned immigrant and the pro- fessional revolutionist, of which we have a few in this country, whose sole business is to mislead his fellow countrymen. With him we must not temporize, and yet unless we are commonsensed we will martyrize him; and that is just what he wants. “If a well-meaning alien fails to under- stand us we cannot make him do so by terrorizing him. In that case we succeed merely in making him believe that the boasted freedom of America is a myth and that we are just as they are in his country. It is our task to educate him patiently and painstakingly, and to make him under- stand in his own way that though his idea of freedom and ours differ, especially in what the average alien now speaks of as his individual freedom, American freedom has a quality that does not need advertising to make it revered and sacred. I have found that that method works splendidly in Ohio. And now what else?” ““Now the League of Nations, in a few words if necessary,’”’ I retorted promptly, though aware that he would elaborate his position during the campaign by the time this interview appeared. There have been unmistakable indications that the nomina- tion of Governor Cox would be interpreted in some quarters as a defeat for the Wilson Administration. That President Wilson should have certain preferences, either po- litical or personal, is beyond discussion, and EVENING POST It Greets Millions Every Morning—Bubbled Wheat Do you realize how children now revel in Puffed Grains, ago were unknown? Millions now enjoy them, morning, noon and ni change they've wrought. ht And think what which a few years ‘ bubbles, I hev use the m Now they eat whole wheat as never before, because it com is airy, crisp and toasted, eight times normal size. They mix Puffed Rice and Puffed Corn with their fruits, in candy making or as garnish on ice cream. They douse them with melted butter for any hungry-hour delight. But they are foods—not tidbits I! The flimsy texture and the nut-like taste make Puffed Grains seem confec- tions. Let them seem so, for foods should be enticing. But Puffed Wheat and Puffed Rice, remember, are simply whole grain exploded. They are made by Prof. Anderson's process. Every food et is blasted for easy, complete digestion. They supply whole-grain nutrition in the best forms known. Let them supplant the lesser grain foods in every way you can Puffed Wheat Puffed Rice Puffed Corn Also Puffed Rice Pancake Flour The new pancakes Now we mix ground Puffed Rice in a per- For luncheo fect pancake flour. The Puffed Rice fiour makes the pancakes fluffy and it gives a food fitted to easil nut-like taste half so delicious. cake Flour. Iti add milk or water ploded The Quaker Qals @mpany Sole Makers Ask for Puffed Rice Pan seem almost too good to eat self-raising. so you simpl what ar leal dish The supper way per or at bedtime you have You never knew pancake I uiry morsels, fla flavory a cupren

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SHEFFIELD, ENG ’ Is, PRANCE TORONTO, CANADA Sales Representatives in all Countries. ert. eg ee \ EVENING POST immaterial. Thenomination effected, there- fore, the next step was to measure their | relationship. “As a matter of public topic the League of Nations has deliberately been turned into a purely technical discussion by, those who oppose it. It has reached controver- sial stages, and the public has showed evi- dence of fatigue. Now, however, that the Republican ieaders have proposed its de- struction public interest is revived. Have you realized that it is taking a longer time formally to establish peace than we were in waging and winning the war? Yet thatisa fact. Count the months! By the arbitrary exercise of authority a conspiring band of men seated in the Senate of the United States stood out as the self-appointed spokesmen of their countrymen. The very action which they prevented, that of ratify- ing peace with Germany, held the affairs of nations everywhere disjointed and impo- tent. In short, civilization stood bound and gagged in their control, while their insensate thirst for partisan advantage struck them dumb to the woes of the dark- est hour man has ever known. “*Charges and countercharges have been made, but we easily recall the bad faith exhibited in the controversy in its early stages. The dissenting group of sena- tors violated every precedent maintained throughout the years in an effort to vent political spite. The fact is that the Repub- lican leaders, obsessed with a determination to win the presidential election, have at- tempted to satisfy too many divergent views, wholly inconsistent with the ideal- ism of the Republican Party in its prosperous days. “So now they approach the campaign of 1920, ready to make a separate peace with Germany, and then after such peace is made an understanding will be sought with the nations of Europe to take the place of the League of Nations. This indicates that opposition to the League of Nations was without patriotic impulse. “Public interest is reverting to this sub- ject. I am sure that opinion—responsible American public opinion—will render its verdict in words that cannot be misunder- stood. The voters of the country, under our system of government, can and will remedy the situation, and I have faith that they will speak accordingly at the elections next November.” Government by Party “Do you mean,”’ I asked, “that in the event the Democratic Party is elected to succeed itself the entire treaty and league will be considered anew by the substituted representatives of the people in accordance with their vote?”’ “It means that our platform does not prohibit any additions—call them reserva- tions or interpretations, as you will—that will be helpful. It speaks firmly, however, against any action that disturbs the league’s vital principle. Reaching an agree- ment with our associates in the war in the treaty with Germany is now of pressing importance, and it is the duty of our party, as we see it, that the agreement be reached as soon as possible. “We hear a good deal of government by party from the opposition. How is this to be interpreted? Is it to be government by the leaders of the Republican Party who are now the leaders in the United States Senate? Or is some process to be devised under which the controlling thought of the great rank and file of the Republican Party is to be ascertained? “The action of the Chicago convention in the naming of its candidate would indicate that the leaders control. No attention was paid to the result of primary elections. The will of the rank and file was not registered for Senator Harding. He did not get a majority vote in a single state, not even Ohio, and in no other state did he obtain a plurality. We are justified in the conclu- sion therefore that government by party means by the senatorial leaders. “I was not nominated by any senatorial ring or any other sort of a ring. I did not attend the convention. No deals were made or promises given. In consequence I am a free man. The Constitution leaves a very definite executive authority in the President. He should, of course, take coun- sel, but in the last analysis with his con- science only. If 1 were to have a senatorial oligarchy exacting service on the plea of gratitude for services rendered in the con- vention I should find myself unable to live | happily with my conscience, and certainly October 9, 1920 I could not render honest service to the country. “In conclusion, I may say that govern- ment as a science must make its improve- ment along the same practical lines which develop system, simplification, classifica- tion of kindred activities and better admin- istrative direction in the evolution of business. The personal equation which ties into executive responsibility is reflected upon the men selected by the executive to take charge of certain administrative or other departments. The aim will be to select the men responsible for the depart- ments or who occupy any position of responsibility to meet the highest require- ments of integrity and capacity. Exac- tions of public office have become as rigid as in the professions, and appointments should be made with this understanding. The ancient policy of appointments in- duced largely by spoils or friendship will prevent the accomplishment of what our people now demand.” The Astounder By this time we had reached the door, for I had risen to take leave, because other callers were waiting, and as it was opened the quiet of the inner office vanished and our final exchange of words was _ half drowned by the clicking of telegraph in- struments and typesetting machines. But the batteries evidently had been aug- mented in the meantime, and the rumble of a press somewhere below—two or three stories perhaps—served as a sub-bass ac- companiment to the din at our level. If my memory serves me right, it was not, this, my first meeting with Mr. Cox, because somehow memory tried to revive the circumstances of a former meeting at Washington, in the Capitol, during the days he was a representative from Ohio and I was reporting. But the meeting evidently must have been an impersonal one, as frequently happens when an iso- lated item is sought from a man whom the reporter does not expect to interview soon again. “Were you interested in the good roads legislation?” I asked. “Yes, 1 took special interest in that subject,” Governor Cox replied. “Then it was in connection with a story about good roads that I came to you,” I explained. ““Yes,”’ he replied, ‘‘and we had a com- mon interest, too, in the preservation of wild life, which was up in Congress then.” In those days, between 1908 and 1912, Mr. Cox was merely one of three hundred or so congressmen, and nobody knew that he had been named the Astounder in his early newspaper days because of his fre- quent use of the word “astounding.” And the editor of a Cincinnati newspaper once asked, ‘Who is this chap using these big unusual words?” It was Cox, reporter, a student of the dictionary, who in the first flush of repor- torial glory—-and none but those who have had a first assignment and seen the story printed and been paid for it can measure that grand and wonderful feeling—used all the big words he knew. In later days, as with other reporters, big words have been avoided or merely served as the basis of better understanding when someone else used them— particularly a member of Congress! James Middleton Cox, nominated for President of the United States in the Demo- cratic national convention at the conclusion of a forty-four ballot struggle, after the most savage contest in convention history, is a newspaper man, first and last. Like his distinguished opponent, Senator War- ren G. Harding, Republican nominee, printers’ ink must flow in his veins, and in good American parlance, that is noble blood. It has been reported that he is om ae first, publisher second and farmer thire My impression is not that. He is a plain citizen first; he is a man of the home second, by his intense interest in his farm, crops and livestock, and this personality merges with his journalistic profession, so that it is difficult to say if the profession should be considered third. Perhaps it were better to say that, second, he is a newspaper man, because it has been his success as such that enabled him to say, “This is my own piece of Ohio, U. S.” Yet he has been so methodical that every available waking hour of the twenty-four he allots to certain tasks. In the first case, as plain citizen, to his gubernatorial duties, (Concluded on Page 65) ) ' i aetna _ — a

Page 65

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST =»). ie sete a mon HOSIERY -inforced he MAN is kept so busy these days that buying things for his per- sonal use is apt to be done whenever he can find a few minutes to spare. His sense of value leads him to the standard brands. One dealer gets his trade for clothes. Another for hats. A third for shoes. Why do so few dealers ever stand- ardize their Hosiery Stocks? Why the mixed lines, the broken lots, the filling in here and there? Why not a concentrated line of uniform and dependable goods— Hosiery of known parentage, each pair stamped by the Maker and backed by the Maker’s sense of re- sponsibility? It can be done. Your dealer can do it—as thousands of other dealers are doing. Standard Values in Hosiery for Men vom it tification on Sennington UNDERWEAR Sp ring | Needle ll For thirty years. the owners of the Allen A Mills have been supplying their famous Black Cat Hosiery to retail dealers direct. Silk, lisle, wool, cotton—for men, women and children. Full size, full length, of uniform quality and de- pendable value. This exceptional Hosiery will in the future be stamped with the additional mark ‘“‘Allen A’”—the Maker’s per- sonal pledge of responsibility to you. ‘Allen’ —the name of the Makers; and “A”—the standard mark of first and finest grade. It all depends on how the dealer feels about it. The Allen A Com- pany stands ready to help him make his Hosiery stocks a true service to you. The Allen A Company - Kenosha, Wisconsin

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64 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST October 9, 1920

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—_—— Sa” : ; ; ‘ ae Pears (Concluded from Page 62) and now to his party engagements too. When in Columbus, as he enters the State House, he is governor, and nothing dis- tracts him from his duties. Whenever he can he motors to Dayton or goes by train. There he attends to his newspaper inter- ests. When he wants to be a farmer he drives four or five miles to beautiful Trails- end—a poetical rather than picturesque name—and there he submerges all his other selves, and lo, we have an American farmer! It is not a pastime with him, farming, but a matter of business—in dollars and cents. All the equipment is of the latest pattern, but the farm must earn it. He has no time to be a gentleman farmer, as we have come to regard the term as a retired capitalist occasionally donning overalls, strap boots, a straw hat, a wisp of broom corn southeast of his nose, and growing nervousness at the approach of a playful bull calf. No, Farmer Cox means a hard worker who knows all the chores from splitting wood to testing seed. But with all his responsibilities he finds time to have other interests. The latest is treasure trove. He expects to search for buried treasure, and in New Jersey, too, which Ohioans say the New Yorkers have raked clean—that is, clean of treasure. This treasure consists of family silver be- longing originally to his great-grandfather, Gen. James Cox, first Speaker of the Na- tional House of Representatives, who hid it at the time of the Revolutionary War to prevent its falling into the hands of the British. An aunt, 90 years old now, living in IIli- nois, described the heirlooms in a letter to the governor recently, and as a result he will dig not only for votes while in New Jersey, but also for buried treasure. What game does he play? That’s a question that need not be asked any more about our public men. Yes, Governor Cox plays golf. But what happens at the eight- eenth hole now, or what happened before January sixteenth last, none knows. Maybe he merely said “‘Fore!’"’ He rides horse- back and plunges into the wilds of the big northwoods. He never visited a summer resort, so called, in his life. He has indicated that he will vigorous daily political word battle against the opposition, which he considers is on the defensive. He «xpects to travel sixteen thousand miles by train and automobile, after the Rooseveltian fashion, and it is said that probably five hundred addresses may be delivered by him before election day. At the rate stated it means two hun- dred miles of travel a day and about six addresses. But the prospect does not THE SATURDAY repare a | daunt him, because six years ago he ad- | dressed in one day sixteen meetings, scat- tered along sixty miles of territory between Toledo and Cleveland. His party will be small—a secretary or two, a stenographer, and report has it that a masseur will go along too to insure relief from weariness and exhaustion incident to travel and loud speech. Thus in Governor Cox we have one of the youngest nominees in political history. He is slightly more than fifty years of age, began life on a farm, true to type of pater- nal ancestry—on his mother’s side they were seafarers—and within a few weeks | may verify his mother’s prediction that | some day Jimmy would be President. She lived to see him governor. And his father, Gilbert Cox, of Camden, Ohio, eighty-eight years of age, was one of the most active participants at the notification ceremonies recently. Young Cox was a newsboy, too, and in this way worked himself through school, and then became a country school- teacher. News of his nomination reached him over the wires leading to the telegraph room on the same floor with his private office. Mrs. Cox had been waiting al for convention reports. I night | Just as he was | about to leave the room for a quiet smoke a | crowd of friends and employees rushed in | and hoisted him to their shoulders. His | unlighted pipe fell on the floor, rolling out | of sight. There were handshakes, and then Mrs. Cox kissed him, as did other women in the party, crying as they went along. Meanwhile his baby daughter, Annie, was sleeping at home, too young to realize | that her daddy may find he has a very rich | and good-natured uncle, by name of Sam, who every four years or so makes some nephew the object of a big trusteeship. URTESY OF THE U. 8. FOREST SERVICE WASH Wheeter National Monument, Rio Grande National Forest, Colorado . : —| EVENING POST Feel the Genial, Radiant Heat from the — Welsbach, GAS HEATER What a pleasant firelight effect it Fey different from any other heater! How the warm cozy glow begins, the minute it’s lighted, to chase chill and encourage comfort! How convenient it is, to carry from room to room! How well the Welsbach Gas Heater is made—with its non-discoloring copper its substantial and efficient its entire reflector, burner-construction, absence of odor! How economical it is—using only two cents’ worth of gas an hour for its gen- erous heat ! What a comfortable, thrifty idea, to buy and use just the heat we need, as we need it! Let’s all go to the Dealer's, or the Gas Company, and see these Welshach Gas Heaters ! MANUFACTURE WELSBACH TER rHE COMPANY GLOUCES

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66 “ My Sweetheart,” said herparent grimly. “ Read it.” Annie Carey read in a thread of voice: She's a mystic laughing lassie, This dream sweetheart of mine, With lips as red as coral And eyes that softly shine. In a wreath of smoke she cometh, Ina twilight background set, Clad in robes of scented gossamer. Cigarette! Cigarette! “Cigarette! Cigarette!” snorted her father. Neither he nor any other member of Annie Carey’s family used the filthy weed. “Go on,” he said grimly. “That's all—of that,” - a said faintly. “ Anything else?” ““A—a novel.” “& novel! What is it?” “It is called Derryford Castle, or The Lost Necklace,” she gulped. “Read,” ordered the professor. Annie Carey turned a leaf and went on in a despairing voice: “Derryford Castle stands in the loneliest part of the Welsh coast. Here all day the sad sound of the sea sob- bing on the rocks is heard. No visitors ever come to it, only sea gulls, but on a certain day in May a closed carriage could have been seen galloping along the coast, drawn by four black horses. A man of savage countenance sat within. Every now and then he peered out fiercely and spied up and down the road. ***Not yet!’ he would exclaim to his com- panion, chewing the end of his mustache. “This companion was a young lady of high birth, as could be seen from her rich clothing of ruby velvet with lace falls. Her ace was not visible, for a black mask covered it, but the part that showed was yale as death. She was none other than Pad Beatrice Versailles, the daughter of the Earl of Derryford a “The Ear! of Derryford! more of this?”’ “A little,” said Annie Carey, swallowing miserably “Bring it here.” She brought a little heap of tatterde- malion papers. The professor did not even look at them. With strong, stout fingers he took them one by one—-including the yel- low pad—and made a little pile of paper hash. “Now,” he said, “let that be a warning We will have no more of this nonsense You have very wrong ideas. A writer—a writer requires a very special talent. It is—er—an exacting profession. The writ- ten word comes with difficulty, only after years of cultivation and education. I forbid you to occupy yourself with any more of this nonsense. Practical’’——-he rapped sharply on the desk—‘‘a practical, wide- awake girl; that is what we want you to be.” Annie Carey, edging out of the study, searcely heeded. There was a thickening in her throat; her eyes were mournfully turned on what had been the mystery of The Lost Necklace. In all this it may be said that the pro- fessor was unduly harsh, but it is quite prob- able that the very springs of his harshness lay in an uncompromisingly stiff-necked standard to which he would have conformed his miserably inadequate daughter. At any rate, there were intervals when he was con- siderably less unbending—when if his cen- sorship of her deportment and development was rigid and unceasingly nagging, it was, as Annie Carey herself recognized, directed to a definite accomplishment. The pro- fessor was, in short, one of those unfor- tunate persons born to correct the world, to tilt at windmills in the interest of their own passionate conviction. His child was his obvious windmill. There were, however, times when his exactions grew less, when he entered into periods of abstraction and preoccupation, infinitely comfortable to her. And he had also an occasional actively softer moment. There was as an example a Sunday one spring when Annie Carey was lying ill of a touch of malaria and the professor brought her home an armful of dogwood. It moved Annie Carey profoundly to see him coming in through the door, his arms filled with snowy faérie bloom. Like Mr. Guppy, she visualized herself in death, Have you any THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ANNIE CAREY (Continued from Page 9) lying on her bier, with a tender-hearted pro- fessor perhaps dropping a tear above her, the whiteness of her face vying with the dogwood blooms. However, she quickly forgot this sad picture, for the professor had broken his penknife in getting the flowers, and he drew it out of his pocket to look at it and spoke a number of words read by good Episcopalians every Sabbath from their prayer books. But the pro- fessor was not praying. ‘ Thus passed the early years of Annie Carey’s life. On summer evenings she sat on her porch looking out over a dooryard of beaten earth and scanty grass blades, where a few fireflies dotted the dark nights with silver. A disused fountain stood in the middle, guarded by a little brown iron child with a hole for its nose and one leg gone. A rusty mossy pipe thrust up from the middle, and sometimes at erratic moments a dribble of water came down. Toads flipped across the empty stone basin and an old Boishevist-looking elm leaned down familiarly over her fence. These—fireflies, toads, elm and occasional robin —were, chiefly, Annie’s summer com- panions, for the professor was not favor- ably inclined to juvenile friendships, In the winters Annie Carey ate her skim milk and doughy baker’s buns and under- done porridge, and went to school and sniffed ‘her way through her colds, and listened to the professor’s homilies when- ever opportunity served him. And wrote. I am sorry to say the pater- nal strictures had little effect on her vice or her propensity todream. It was perhaps like forbidding a cork to float in water or a rivulet to run down hill. But she prac- ticed a certain duplicity. She kept her store of scribbles tucked carefully under a corner of the stair carpet, where they ac- cumulated, together with the thick rolls of reddish lint Blanche encouraged. But all this method of life ended when she was fourteen. One morning the pro- fessor departed, the very spit and image of health, with his overcoat and bag. And on the same evening he came back with no health at all. It was caused by what Blanche called an apple-atic fit. Annie Carey’s mother retreated to her room with a suspiciously hysterical quality of grief, but Annie Carey, when opportunity served, went in and sat in the long parlor where they had placed her father. An incredible father. Lying quiet, moveless, in his best broadcloth suit, with his tail coat, never to swish again. It was the quiet part that was soincredible. Here in the darkened room Annie Carey tried to realize her situation—her enormous free- dom. She might cough Or toe in or cross her knees or creak her chair—even slam a door; and nothing would happen. The professor would not sit up an in the sharp remonstrances or the Episcopal prayer-book words he so often used to her. Never again. Suddenly Annie Carey pitied him, lying there so help- less, so remote, with the dignity of death upon him, At first she was aware only of the power of the living over the dead, but after a little she realized that she was wrong. It was the dead who reigned supreme. All the things she had done to displease or irritate her father loomed up before her. He was like a silent, an awful accusa- tion. Quite suddenly she slipped into her old habit of confusing wish with reality. She began to blame herself passionately. She could not remember that her fa- Once Starbird Looked ther had ever at the Serene Sky kissed her. and Referred to “the This, it Same Stars That seemed : Had Smited Down ointed to on Ancient Carthage"’ ault in her- self. He had been a kind, a loving father. She was, she must be, an unnatural creature, something bereft of decent human impulse. She began to cry when she realized this, to call herself secret names. She would have kissed her father now only that he seemed so incred- ibly near to life; and in life she would as soon have kissed him as thrust her head into alion’s mouth. But she wanted to do some- thing for him, something that would please him, in a species of atonement. She had stumbled out into the hall beforeshe realized what she could do. She went then and gathered up her little store of written pieces and carried them to the kitchen stove and burned them. 7 prey: was no money to speak of. The house with the elm tree-and the noseless child passed to other keeping. With the utmost economy on the part of herself and her mother she managed to secure a teach- ing certificate at the age of eighteen. Late in the summer her mother, quite unexpectedly, discouraged, no doubt, fol- lowed the professor to that bourn whence no traveler returns, and Annie Carey, alone in the world, went to teach a little rural school. The stipend was forty dollars. It lay—a wretched little place—a stiff mile October 9,1920 from the farmhouse where she boarded, 2 mile that in bad weather was a sinuous ribbon of mud, chiefly. The room assigned her was small and cold, supplied with a little oil lamp. The bed was full of cobblestones, the mirror a ghost’s breath, the whole place too bleak to sit in unless the sittee wore a blanket, but it was her own. She had done excellent work in English at school, and she meant to begin to set the river on fire in good earnest. Still, I am sorry to say that she accom- plished not even a first step. For one thing, teaching made her so tired. There was a rabble of sizable noisy boys to handle. And the walk was so long. On days when it rained or thawed she could only accomplish this step by step, working her way along the fences. It was a pilgrimage of no light proportion. And there was a matter of work to prepare—desperate problems in arithmetic such as: “If you buy at .485 a pound less 25% and 12% and sell at the same list price less 1624% and 10% By the time Annie Carey had gotten to the back of the arithmetic, fighting it like Apollyon, she grew so fatigued that she would fall into a doze over her task and dream under her Micmac squaw’s blanket of a life arranged on more fortunate lines— of greater opportunities of time and strength; of contacts with congenial people, the pleasant companionship of sympathetic minds; of the precious things that belonged to youth, not only preparation for one’s work, but play; the beauty of the fleeting playthings that were youth’s that she could not know; the texture of a tinted silk or chiffon; the blended threads of young laughter; the whisper of stringed music; sport; the evanescent romance of just be- ing young. By spring she had written a long and in- volved story, returned to her with a formal injunction not to submit work in longhand. Her second winter was scarcely more pro- lific. The odd bits she hammered at dis- pleased her and were seldom finished. She felt inordinately smal! and incompetent, a little cowed by the exigencies of her life. Once, in March, on a thawing day when the brown earth came up through the snow films, sweet and wet, with a myriad tiny Cadmus spears of pale’ new wheat showing, she caught the mood of the day and wrote a poetic little study called The Voice of the Wheat, which held both beauty of phrase and vision. So much so that the magazine to which she submitted it wrote her: “ Your work shows a charming fancy, a delightful freshness and play of imagery. We are pleased to accept it for our magazine. Our check for two dollars goes forward to you.” The check for two dollars went so far forward that it missed Annie Carey en- tirely. But after all it didn’t greatly matter, for it was in the middle of the summer that she met Starbird Simcox. I have neglected thus far to tell you what Annie Carey looked like. You shall see her now as she appeared to Starbird Simcox on that August night of their meeting at a small-town social gathering. What Starbird saw was a smallish person of about twenty, in a homemade white dress whose ruffled softness su ted a patch of snowdrops in an old garden. Above the softness was a small sharply pointed face, with large lovely hazel eyes, a surrounding mist of dark hair, compound of beech color and wr lish shadow. It was a pale little face, chiefly, but at her hostess’ speech became a thing of suffused and glow- ing fire. “This is Mr. Simcox, Miss White. Annie Carey writes, Starbird, so you’ve got to take a lot of interest in her. Star- bird’s an editor, you know.” “‘An editor!” breathed Annie Carey. Starbird confessed the soft impeachment. Though he was a young man in the middle twenties, he was not only an editor, but owner as well of a small hereditary coun- try newspaper upstate. The toga of his father had descended upon him, and as its wearer he discharged the functions of edi- torial writer and business manager. The paper was called The Courier- Trumpet. It had a circulation of over seven hundred. On the side, the office did a certain amount of job printing, local folders, circulars, and so on. (Continued on Page 69)

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST

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68 LTT On Libil TYTT ii i Tir Li LET Lil ——— MUTT THE SATURDAY EVENING POST TTT &S y Is In motor cars as in other merchandise there is a price below which you can buy only disappointments, and there is a price above which the values returned are not worth their extra cost. Judgments will vary as to these limits but the careful buyer will make an earnest effort to discover them. A growing group show by their ownership of Westcotts what they believe to be the ultimate of value-received-for-price-paid. Your own study must lead you to the same con- clusion. For Westcott is not only the car with a longer life but the car with less trouble and more honest satisfaction during all the years of that long life. In the estimation of Westcott owners, paying less buys too little—while paying more buys but little more of genuine worth! THE WESTCOTT MOTOR CAR COMPANY SPRINGFIELD, OHIO, USA. October 9,1920 er —— —— \ {

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(Continued from Page 66) Annie Carey looked at Starbird with awe. “I have always wanted to write something that could be printed,” she fal- tered with a blush. Starbird waved the implication of diffi- culty aside. He was a little blasé with his editorial experience, one gathered, but good-humoredly he told her quite a bit about it—newspaper technic, inside stuff. It was, he concluded, a dog’s life. “T suppose,” suggested Annie Carey, “that after a while you'll leave the country paper and go to a city one. Men work up that way, don’t they?” Starbird intimated that he probably would—that is, if he cared about it.. The Courier-Trumpet had been fairly prosper- ous inits day. His father had gotten a liv- ing from it for more than thirty years. His own college career of two years had been terminated at his father’s death to take it over. “Tt’s not a bad thing,” he said thought- fully. When Starbird looked thoughtful he was not unmoving to the feminine eye. He was a tall, well-shaped young man, a bit sleek, perhaps, with hands of the rather meaty variety, a bit sallow, but his eyes were good, and a scallop of rich chestnut hair touched his left eyebrow. He wore a wing collar with a black satin tie, and he reminded Annie Carey—he really did—of pictures of Lord Byron. This and the fact of his work, his writing—I am afraid a little Aspasiaesque thought flashed like a nimble mouse across her mind. He was young, good-looking—and they had this thing in common, this literary preoccu- pation. To inspire a man like Starbird Simcox! Starbird took her home from the party. The August night was soft and sweet, the gardens spilling their fragrance abroad. Starbird guided her by the arm in the ap- proved fashion—and talked. And Annie Carey clung to him and flamed and glowed and thrilled—and was pretty as only a young girl who glows and flames and thrills over nothing at all can be pretty. Once Starbird looked at the serene sky and referred to “‘the same stars that had smiled down on ancient Carthage,’”’ and Annie realized the beauty, the classical quality of his thought. She invited him to call, and when, shortly, he came to spend an evening, she had a little feast ready for him—a rather elabo- rate little feast of ices and cake and salads and sandwiches. He talked again, on and on. Annie Carey ran over his phrases while she cleared away. There was not much to clear. Even she was slightly shocked at the residue of her opulent feast—the few broken shards that Starbird had left. It occurred to her for a fleet moment that Starbird ate fully as well as he talked. But, after all, what could she know of such things, living in her pinched feminine fashion? But the thought recurred. Starbird came to take her out on some little jaunts with him. They took strolls, boat rides, trips to local points. At all times Starbird looked after the inner man most competently. Annie Carey had never seen a hungry young man eat before; now she was presented the spectacle in its fine flower. “After all, health is health,”’ she thought sententiously; “it must be maintained.” Headwork is exacting; “it took it out of one,”’ to quote Starbird. Didn’t it use her up herself? “I ought to eat more,” she would think, watching him tuck away his lunch of a half dozen fried eggs with ham, a double portion of ice cream and cake and coffee. It occurred to her that Starbird not only ate well but rather thought about his food. It was disconcerting in the middle of a discussion of a book or a flight of aspira- tion or some little peroration about the scenery to have him suggest food—to refer to possible faintness or the length of time before supper. “It seems to make him think of eating,” it occurred to her. Then she drove away the thought. The Aspasia complex was too strongly on her; and Star- bird continued to remind her of Lord Byron. She got a real Byronesque thrill one moonlight night. He made a direct on- slaught. “You're so pretty, Annie Carey. Will you let me call you Annie Carey?” he asked. “‘You’re so pretty and sweet. Just sweet enough to eat.” In the end Starbird asked her to be his. The night before his return to the little up- state town he offered himself. He laid his life, his hopes, The Courier-Trumpet —at THE SATURDAY her feet. And Annie Carey, lifting them, put them on her brow like a wreath. It is Margaret Fuller Slack, the poetess who died of a needle prick in Mr. Masters’ Spoon River, who cries: ‘‘Hear me, am- bitious souls, sex is the curse of life.”’ But you could have quoted these lines to Annie Carey, pinning on her wedding veil, until you were black in the face and she would only have scoffed. She was going to live! She was going to love and be loved! She was going to work. To work divinely, inspiringly, with the man of her choice, of her heart. Life was to be no longer a loneliness, but a great to- getherness. mr HE house to which Starbird Simcox took Annie Carey was a two-story brick building standing midway of the main street of a town of twelve hundred souls. The first floor was occupied by The Courier- Trumpet office and the printing shop with its type and presses. The second floor was the residential part, reached by a nar- row flight of inclosed side stairs. Directly opposite was a blacksmith shop; a little brown house, inhabited by a tailor; and China Hall, a three-story green frame affair whose first floor was given over to the pur- veying of crockery and oysters and whose upper halls were consecrated to septdiurnal mysteries conducted by the secret societies of the village. Over the heads of these loomed a long bare-looking hill, completely timbered off except for a few straggling clumps of trees, = ike in the distance and as conspicuous as Bismarck’s three hairs. In the parlor of the flat were a Brussels carpet, some oil-painted plaques of flowers, a set of “mission” and a rug made from the carcass of a departed pet black dog, whose head had been taxidermically finished, causing an impediment to the unwary foot. The dining room was in golden oak, with a hanging ae: of green glass. Brass beds sparkled in all the bedrooms, and the cook- stove was a huge symphony of black and nickel. “The Simcoxes are all hearty,’ Star- bird’s aunt, who received them, explained. She was a heavy dour lady in black sateen, with a portentous eye. She was plainly of the opinion that Annie Carey was poor stuff—but it didn’t bother Annie Carey. She couldn’t wait to see Starbird’s office. She fluttered downstairs and sniffed the ink-and-oily smell and blacked her fingers on type and poked and investigated. The foreman and the two compositors with blacked arms and leather aprons stepped aside before her. Then she invaded Star- bird’s desk. It stood in a little walled-off inclosure and was littered with a débris of papers—folders, envelopes, calendars, ink pots and rusty pens. “And this is where you write,”’ Annie Carey said as she smoothed and straight- ened the welter. “I'll come down and help you—often.” There was an old carpet-covered lounge beside the desk, with whitish worn places here and there. Starbird sat down on this. “Do you ever get things sent in that you must return?” “Sometimes. There’s a poem somebody sent from Chockville Center. I buy all mine in plate matter.” “You won't have to now, Starbird. I'll write some for you, and perhaps a story or two. And we can go over the news items.” She looked so pretty that Starbird kissed her, and a man who came in to order fifty pink handbills advertising a stock sale rinted saw them plainly, but Annie Carey aughed and ran upstairs to settle her things. The dour aunt unbent a little, gossiping severely and unfolding a little further the scroll of Simcox history. “Sauce, now,”’ she said; “you'll need to put up alot of it. I’m glad your wedding was in time for peaches. Last year I put up two hundred and eighty-three cans of sauce, and Starbird ate every can.” “Every can?” Annie Carey cried, startled. “T mean, of course, the contents. He ate two hundred and eighty-three cans of sauce, and he could have done with more. The Simcoxes are all hearty.” “ We-ell ikntia oO “And pies. I baked twice a week for Starbird. Four pies; cakes too. He hasa sweet tooth.” “Well,” said Annie Carey, with an eye on the expanse of tinware, ‘“‘I—I’m not a very heavy eater, and I’ve never cooked EVENING POST much. But I have some talent for it and I mean to get along.” It didn’t take her long. She was remark- ably successful and very shortly she was turning out sheets of edible biscuits, flak pies, enormous roasts, vast tracts of beef- steak, loaves and cookies, which Starbird duly praised. He came up for an enormous dinner and supper, but in the evening they usually had a hot lunch down in the office. This was at Annie Carey’s insistence—the location—her assumption being that Star- bird would have editorial work downstairs and necessarily burn the midnight oil. She was somewhat shocked when she found the extent of his reliance on plate matter. Such comment on current events, the political situation and the necessary criticism of the administration as was offered to the local palate did not emanate from Starbird’s pen at all, but was procured from the plate cuttings, secured of a New York concern. Except for the local items, the paper was culled practically in tolothus. One could range from a face lotion made from cucum- ber peelings under Rosalie LaRue’s beauty column, through the tidings that the pedi- gers hen of one Abijah Longhawk, of hode Island, had laid five hundred and twenty-eight eggs during the past year, to a projected Republican tariff reform, stop- ping on the way for a glance at a paradox- ically sad column called Laugh With Us. Starbird told his wife it was as much as he could do to attend to the make-up, handle the town news and look after the job printing. The Courier-Trumpet itself was faintly discouraging. “With the Reaper in Our Midst and In and Around Town—they don’t sound very original, Starbird.” “My father used those heads and they’re good enough for me,” said Starbird firmly. “Well,” said Annie Carey, “ perhaps we could furbish it up a little. Something a little more original. We could use our own things—and I think we might clip stuff of our own choosing. We can take more ex- changes. You could even start a special column, Starbird, and some day a big paper — notice it.” his last possibility concerned her enor- mously. It was the thing to be courted the measure of their ultimate success. But here, too, she was shocked to discover that, brought up as a practical issue, Starbird was profoundly indifferent to it. He even regarded it as absurd. She was aware that he had no ambition for alteration or inno- vation. He was as conservative as a Chinaman. She saw presently with him the futility, even absurdity, of her first idea, but at first she clung to it. She looked over all the exchanges her- self. She helped with cutting the boiler ‘ plate, with the make-up and headings, and even coaxed Starbird into letting her have a column or two of her own stuff. She edited the rural correspondence, and Star- bird was not unwilling to accept her assistance, particularly in the mechanics of the paper, though here and there came a clash. “T don’t see why the size and weight of this Abel Peterman’s Hubbard squash is news, Starbird.” “Tt is news in this region, Annie Carey. People are interested in squashes. Besides, we got the squash.” It was true. One of the perquisites of The Courier-Trumpet was a county-fair show of choice vegetable spoils, which found their way presently into the Simcox cook pot. “You can’t make a country newspaper literary, Annie Carey. News and litera- ture are two things. Hubbard squashes and prize onions are news, and the reunion of the Dubbel family. When people want literature they can read—er—The Lady of the Lake or—or Thanatopsis.” She was very busy. The work she took off Starbird’s shoulders together with her household duties left her no chance at writ- ing as self-expression. In fact she had never heard of the term. She would have said her own work could wait. But she had plenty of ideas. Sometimes she would leave a pie or a pudding in the mixing to run down and tell Starbird about them. A plot for a story, a novel—when she got round to it—or some innovation for the paper. Starbird always found her ideas amus- ing. Often she found him lying down rest- ing on the worn carpet sofa. He had been subject to fits of palpitation from early boyhood and he alarmed and agitated 69 Annie Carey. She fluttered over him like a ruffled dove. She was very absorbed. She scarcely noticed when autumn faded into winter. Driving snows flew over the roof of China Hall, now obliterating the hillside and Bismarck’s hairs. Every Sun- day Annie Carey put on her small bridal furs and sat with Starbird in a pew at church. She sang lustily, sweetly from her hymn book, and Professor Brooks, organ- izing a singing society, pressed her into it. It was on a January evening at rehearsal just as the pecenene i was rendering an oratorio finale: Hail—Ha-ail—to— Naaman! Hail—to— Naaman! And—the—lit-tle—Syrian—ma-aid —— that Annie Carey abruptly fainted. And thereafter Doctor Wilby told her the sweet- est story ever told. It was not unwelcome—a rapture, rather. But Annie Carey wondered how exactly she was going to make it—attend to household and her share of the paper work and look after a little one. To say nothing of whether Starbird’s meals would be nicely prepared during —— Asforany writing on her own account —— iv ATERNITY descended upon Annie Carey in a gray encompassing mist, a black, crushing oppression with sharp edges of unendurable agony, through which she suddenly emerged to find her world as usual—the monotonous clank-clank com- ing in from the smithy, the burning heat of August lying on the dusty street, the odor of victual in the rooms mingled with the ees of mignenette in her window and Star- pird’s black-sateen aunt moving about. But her achievement was complete. Her son lay in Starbird’s cradle. “You're too little and insignificant to make so much trouble,” she scolded at him faintly, “‘but, even so, you're almost as big as I am.” She thought a great deal about her son, lying there on her pillows; and about life. It occurred to her life could be so different from one’s plan, so disturbing —disappoint- ing. Well, there was the little boy. He would grow up and do the things she wanted to do, carry things farther. “T’ll help him,” she thought. “He'll have some kind of chance—even if I don't get it.” She felt like a lioness or a partridge mother ready to defend her young against the world. After all, the old should help the youthful—protect them, save them from mistakes. Starbird came up and sat by quite often. Maternity was even harder on Starbird than on Annie Carey. He was peevish and unnerved at his upset routine. He com- )lained of it bitterly —his buttons, hissocks, bis neglected meals, the affairs of the paper, of money. "he Courier-Trumpet had lost some sub- scribers; a man had been in this week, had been indignant at a slip on the front page ** As though I could attend to everything, as busy as I am. Another thing, the Edmonston Star has sold out to a chap from the city. He's getting in typesetting machines, and some of our people are going to subscribe there. The Bostwick Seed Company and the Flour Milling Company won't renew their ads with us; nor Bris- bane’s Mail-Order House. Had a letter yesterday. They're not getting the returns. They wrote me I was not progressive. They say my get-up is poor—print is old style. They said—they said'’—Starbird’s voice grew acid—“‘that the only attractive features were those second-page clippings and those five stickfuls of original stuff on the back page. Your stuff. Progressive!" he snorted. “‘ Why, except for those things, the paper's just the same as it was in father’s time. Good enough for anybody.” “Bring up this week’s copy, Starbird. Perhaps I could think up something.” “Oh—think up! You can’t use your imagination in a case like this.” He brought up the copy, however, and some exchanges and the local stuff for the week, and Annie Carey went over it all. There was no doubt that Starbird had a limited style, that the paper had an old- style get-up, that the hand-set type, the old press, turned out an exceedingly countri- fied article. It was blurred and unattrac- tive beside the smart style of the Edmonston Star. Its matter might have saved it, for here Starbird had an advantage of being country bred and close to the psychology of his readers, but already Annie Carey evaded any analysis of Starbird and his

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70 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST eee E very peanu ft : carefully selected Cee ona es ee a o nuts are like Planters Peanuts Always ready to serve —no cracking, no trouble of any kind. In the glass jars they are a convenient confection to keep on hand for the unexpected callers or for the impromptu card game. They remain firm and tresh ALWAYS in the glass jar if the lid is on tight, regardless of how long they have been on the dealer's shelves or in your possession, And it is a treat that you know will be welcome—a dish of golden SALTED PEANUTS THE NATIONAL SALTED PEANUT Their delicious flavor makes a tempting tidbit that is irresist- ible. They can be eaten in any quantity without the slight- est harm. Sold everywhere in familiar 5c glassine bags with “THE RED PENNANT.” Do not accept peanuts offered in any other bag—they are not PENNANTS. 10-02. jar, 50c 6-oz. jar, 35¢ Glassine bag, 5c In the Eastern Section) To Dealers—If you are un- able to obtain PLANTERS PENNANT PEANUTS write to us at once, giving name and address of your jobber, and we will advise you how to obtain them promptly. PLANTERS NUT AND CHOCOLATE co Wilkes-Barre, Pa Suffolk, Va. Mr. Peanut Pat. Off supine attitude toward life. If he wished, she declared to herself, he could do any- thing. It was, of course, hig state of health that was so detrimental to his ambitions. Starbird was feeling far from well. The child crying at night disturbed his rest and he complained constantly of his heart. He said he needed exercise and change, so he would not have to lie down so often, and he often went over in the afternoon to play croquet behind the bank with Lee Verners, the undertaker, and old Mr. Eggleston. Winter afternoons he had a little go at billiards at Wayne Shanley’s. In the eve- nings he went down to the drug store and talked. It was the best way to get news, he said. Annie Carey handled all mail, supervised the office force and interviewed callers. Her life became an unceasing rigor, a manipulation for just sheer time to ac- complish her routine. She had sewed a lot of blue bows on the clothes she had made for little Robert’s coming, but motherhood, she found, was not a matter of blue bows. It was a mortgaged motherhood at best so little time she found to worship this tiny marvel of manhood that had come to her. It was because they were so very scant of money. She had had to learn this grad- ually. Starbird had been very vague. But the building carried a mortgage since the elder Simcox’s time, and Starbird had saved nothing to begin married life on. Their necessities were chiefly provided for by due bills furnished through advertisers. There was every need of economy. The Edmonston Star was widening a steady and effective puncture in their small circu- lation, and there was need of improvements in equipment. Old machinery was falling to disrepair; there were payments and in- terest on debts outstanding against the paper. Quite suddenly Starbird waxed bitter, indicting family life as the chief American folly—a man’s millstone. “‘A man’s a fool to saddle himself with a wife and child. It’s a question of econom- ics, of common sense, with these prices always going higher.” “It would take—it would take a lot of money, wouldn’t it, Starbird, to outfit us in modern ways—machines, improvements?” “My Lord, why do you talk about it? We'll go to the wall, that’s all. With three mouths to feed—and my printing orders falling off. How can hand-set type com- pete with machines?” Annie Carey racked her brain. There seemed no way for her to augment their finances. She was spending the last ounce of her energy. She no longer went to church or cantatas concerning Naaman and the little Syrian maid. She was too tired and she had no clothes. Once, passing her mirror, she took an unwonted inventory and was shocked. “T’m so thin you could see through me, and I'm hardly pretty at all. Not pretty any,” she corrected bravely. But if it was a hard year, the second was harder. Another son was born at its close, and for three months Annie Carey lay un- able to rise. They must have a hired girl of sorts, and life became unbelievably hideous. Starbird, sitting by her, talked more passionately, complainingly, than ever. He | had grown very much stouter and quite yellow and pasty. Even Doctor Wilby protested: “Starbird Simcox is digging his grave with his teeth.” . But Starbird had a different idea. “It’s worry,” he said bitterly; “I don’t know where to turn. Old man Polk wouldn’t give me his printed matter this summer, and I’ve lost Atwell Brothers. | There’s no use of a correspondent in Rose- burg Center—we haven't got a subscriber | left over there.” Annie Carey thought agonizedly. Lying here so helpless, thinking was all she could do, and for the first time in more than three years of constant activity she knew mental leisure. A flood of interrupted concepts, of fancies, vagaries, poured through her mind. Early one morning, when the night was going gray and sparrows were beginning a restless twittering, Annie Carey, waking to her squirrel’s wheel of anxieties, was seized with an overpowering desire, not for solu- tion, but escape. To lift herself mentally, bodily, out of it! To fly to some unknown, unheard of place, in some new rdéle, to some far spot with new, strange customs, palm- fringed islands—to blue water—as dif- ferent as possible. She let her fancy play a little, creating a mental escape, but sud- denly there came like a blinding flash a October 9,1920 sudden idea—an inspiration. Her escape from reality—her wish might serve her practically. Her imagination had always been her curse. It had transmuted every- thing in her life into colorings quite alien to fact. It should serve her now, be her genie, her familiar—not rule her, but obey. hen morning came she got pencils and paper from the hired girl and for a period of days worked surreptitiously. The out- rageousness of the thing she attempted pleased her. More, it rested her like a de- lightful opiate. She was no longer herself — someone quite different. So different it was inconceivably Annie Carey who had done the thing. “T. shall be a man, a man with a nice dashing, careless name. A man who would pick up his hat as soon as not any evening and say, ‘Well, I believe I'll take a little run to Afghanistan to-night.’ A free, ad- venturous man.” She thought Warburton—Hal T. War- burton—sounded just like the sort of man she meant. So she signed the name, and a young stenographer friend, impressed to secrecy, duly typed and mailed the stuff to one of the syndicates who brought out the plate stories. Thereafter Annie Carey turned her face to the wall and waited. “T’ll never hear of it again,” she said. “Never. And if I don’t—well, I'll give up and say die.” But in time she had tidings. Starbird, coming up from the office with a tale of woe one afternoon, found her sitting up among her pillows, talking excitedly, with hectic spots in her cheeks. She waved a blue slip at him. “Tt’s a hundred dollars, Starbird—a whole hundred. Think of it! You can pay an installment on a typesetting machine now. “‘Where’d you get it?” “T wrote a story and they bought it. The East Coast Syndicate. It’s a serial story. About—about oyster pirates—pear] smuggling and the South Sea Islands.”’ “What do you know about the South Sea Islands?” “‘Nothing—but here’s the check, Star- bird.” “Well, a hundred dollars. How far would that go on the paper?” “T'll get more!” cried Annie Carey pas- sionately. ‘I’ve got so many ideas, Star- She did. Not opulence, but enough to stop the wolf’s maw whenever he sniffed at the door. With a little boning out of the encyclopedia she wrote of pearl smuggling and diamond fields, of pirate luggers and dark deeds in Chinese hop dens, of the Malay creese and the demoniacal laughter of Cuban vampires foiled of their attempts to filch the Great Ruby. It was cheap enough stuff—but written in a sprightly vein, and it was sure pay. It enabled Star- bird to pay his interest regularly, do some repairs, to have an extra man. In the long summer afternoons Annie Carey would pack her babies into a little cart and draw them to a little wooded glen on the hillside, where, in the intervals of motherly solicitude as to the swallowing of dirt and pebbles, she created these flowers of her fancy. Her stuff went big with the syndicate. In the fourth year they wrote her a letter: “My dear Warburton: A representative of our syndicate, Mr. Kellner Peck, will call on you personally on Wednesday, the fourteenth, with regard to some new serials planned for the coming winter.” Annie Carey wrote back hospitably that she would meet him at Wellsburg Junction. She signed her nom de guerre. She had never revealed herself to them; now, though an opportunity was forced upon her, she was so flurried and busy she en- tirely forgot. On the appointed day, having swept and dusted her flat and prepared a sumptuous supper, she bathed and dressed her little sons in the ruffled Oliver Twists she had made for them and all three went over to Wellsburg. When the syndicate man stepped off the train at the little rural junction he saw a decrepit old farmer with an ear trumpet, a young yokel lad with a gray telescope and a string bag full of crook-neck squashes, and a young mother with her hat on one side and a tired, rather sweet face, a brace of rosy little boys beside her. He observed the young mother approach- ing him, and hesitated. (Continued on Page 72)

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 71 Makers of 8 out of 10 Cars Agree on ) ine. ; Se Seay Prevention- Let your fan belt cease functionin properly for even a few minutes, st serious engine trouble and_ swiftly mounting repair bills are the result. Al i | § = — co n-Gunce of ) Yet unless the fan belt’s basic construction is right, it cannot long stand up under the savage attacks of the baking, steamy, oil-soaked atmosphere under the hood of the car. Gilmer basic construction of specially treated ' fabric really resists heat, steam, oil. Gilmer Belts contain no rubber, no leather. They are woven endless to exactly fit each model and will not slip or stretch in service. | Gilmer superiority is acknowledged by auto- ' motive engineers—so nearly unanimously that today more than 80% of American made cars are factory equipped with Gilmer. When you ask for ‘‘Gilmer’’, you are profiting by the experiments and experience of the most astute judges of motor performances in the world. _tY/f —- @ G i T _tlf —thatis Worth A T\* wt #>> “a Pound of Cure “Carry a Spare” A spare fan belt is as necessary as a spare tire and when it is needed, it's needed even more than a spare tire. L. H. GILMER CO., Philadelphia, Pa. Manufacturers of Solid Woven Power and Conveyor Belting

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Ain’t Science Wonderful ? W'! have some pretty good chemists and they use test tubes and look profound and everything, and I guess if I asked them to they could prove by laboratory experiments that Mennen lather softens a beard and they could give me a lot of scientific dope that would make very convincing copy. Personally, I am something of a rough-neck when it comes to highbrow science, especially the pseudo sort that is fed to the public. The best shaving cream laboratory I know is my own plain but honest countenance. I don’t need any test tubes or micro- | see people on this hill. scopes fo tell me whether my beard comes off gently and graciously or whether the razor jumps and pulls and acts generally like a dull wood saw bit- ing through a rusty nail. It was that kind of test that has con- vinced over two million men that life would be a drab and painful episode if | they couldn't start the day with a three minute Mennen lather, followed by that gorgeously efficient razor play which only Mennen users have experienced. I know it’s awfully hard to take ad- vertising enthusiasm seriously, but isn’t it barely possible that I 2m approximat ing the truth when I say that one trial of Mennen’s will positively startle you with its amazing beard-taming magic? why it is that over two million men think so highly of Mennen’s? 15 cents will bring my demonstrator tube. I'll go this far—if that one tube doesn’t convince I'll give you back the 15 cents, plus your outlay for postage. 9 doen (Mennen Salesman) a THe Mennen Company Newaan, iJ. USA NA THE SATURDAY (Continued from Page 70) “T wonder,” he said, “if you can tell me where I can secure a conveyance for East Denton. I expected a party to meet me— a Mr. Hal T. Warburton.” Annie Carey looked him squarely in the eye. “T am Hal T. Warburton,” she said proudly, advancing with her jewels. v COME now to that part of her married life which I shall designate as “Annie Carey’s affair.” Of friends she had very few; of intimacies, none. Still it is not the less deplorable and inexcusable to confess that at the age of twenty-eight, on a day in September when the boys were in school, Annie Carey, sitting in a nest of yellow beech leaves in her pet glen, with a rubbish cf books and papers round, scraped a per- fectly unashamed acquaintance with a per- fectly strange man. He had stopped in, coming down the hillside, and stood for some time observing the busy track of her waver- ing pencil. Presently Annie Carey, lookin up, saw him and colored a vivid pink, an made an instinctive movement to cover her writing with her old tweed coat. “TI believe I’ve stumbled on a fellow craftsman,” he said em, informally taking off his hat. ‘I’m sorry if I disturbed you.” “‘N-no—I—that is—you don’t expect to obody ever comes here, so I bring my work here.” “T noticed this little patch of beech up on the hill and thought I'd borrow it for myself. Had no idea it was preémpted. Had no idea anybody followed my trade round here.” He stood looking at Annie Carey silently; at the slim tree boles behind, with the lacing of sapphire sky; at the mounds of golden leaves; the partridge tones of her coat; the russet and purple of her hair. Annie Carey returned his glance. He was at least ten or twelve years her senior and looked rather tired. A gentle- man going a little gray at the temples, and outlandishly dressed —for her town—in golf stockings and Norfolk suit. She saw the little leather pad thrusting up from a ocket—the fountain pen protruding; that Re had little crow’s feet about his eyes and that his eyes were gray-brown, like water on brook stones. He looked kind and de- pendable, with a wide whimsical mouth and finely shaped head. Annie Carey held to a passionate belief in general phrenology. Besides, he was not young, and she herself —no man would ever! “I don’t see why the glen isn’t big enough for two,” she said. And she adde impetuously: “I’ve never known anyone who wrote in all my life.” He gave her his name—David Ham- mond. It was a reasonably well-known name in a special branch of letters, but Annie Carey had never heard of it. She tried to make a polite pretense, and said, “Oh, David Hammond!”’ but at the look he gave her, the little quiet amusement in his kindly eyes, the name limped on her — in confusion. “No,” he said, ‘‘don’t pretend. Besides, it doesn’t matter. A lot of people have or heard of me and, sad to say, never will. He sat down on a flat stone and told her he was rusticating for a few weeks—was staying over at Edgeham near the home of an old nurse, who had been a mother to him and who was now slowly dying. He | had brought some work with him and was threshing it into shape on his daily walks— and would she tell him, please, just what | iniquitous matter it was she was hiding Isn’t it worth fifteen cents to find out | finding a path out into a sunn there under her coat. “It’s—it’s a story,” Annie Carey fal- tered. ‘“‘A—a horrible story. It’s a ship- wreck story of Borneo.” “Borneo,” said Hammond, but he smiled at her with a comprehending eye—the first comprehending eye she had ever met. The sensation was like that of suddenly garden when one has followed a dark and tortuous | labyrinth. She looked at him from the corner of her own eye with a sly little gleam of complete self-confession and drew out the manuscript and offered it to him. “You've done it too, I believe,’’ she said. “A hundred times,” he laughed; “only I found in the end it’s best to take the things one really knows.” ell,” said Annie Carey, “I'd like to try that, but this pays me ——” EVENING POST Quite suddenly she found herself telling him about her work and the East Coast Syndicate and The Courier-Trumpet and its problems. And about Starbird and the little boys and the fruit sauce and the flat and China Hall and the professor and her childhood and the dreams she had never fulfilled and the travels she had never taken and the books she had never read and what she meant—would like—to do—sometime. It was as though some floodgate went down before Hammond’s sympathy. When she finished he spun a tale himself. He had traveled a lot and read widely —things that were Aladdinesque splendors to her. He told something of his own work—of his friends. He rolled back the doors to an enchanted land for her—so much so that the slanting shadows on the beech leaves warned her and she | up, startled. , “T must go—I must. hy, it’s getting ate.” But she held him with her eyes, entreated him desperately, impersonally, compel- = “Perhaps,” said’ Hammond, “I'll walk this way again. If I do and I find you at work in your glen, I'll stop by and we'll chat some more about our cabbages and kings, if you will let me.” “Oh, yes—please do,” breathed. She fled home breathlessly. She must tell Starbird all about it of course. Yet this troubled her too. If only it weren’t necessary. It was like finding something culiarly one’s own and having to share it. ft belonged to herself, to a little glen full of golden leaves and lazy thoughtful hours, not to China Hall and The Courier- Trumpet and Starbird. But loyally she went to tell him. She found him lying on the office sofa and faced him, moved, flushed, with sparkling eyes. “Starbird,” she said, “the strangest thing happened. I met a man over in Duell’s Woods this afternoon. He stopped and spoke to me.” Starbird was in pain and raised a for- bidding hand. “Don’t come to me,” he said. ‘I’ve warned you before about going off there to the woods. If you are annoyed by a tramp or a bum, don’t come to me.” “A tramp or a bum!” The red of anger poured into Annie Carey’s face. She turned silently and left the room. On four casual and unappointed after- noons David Hammond sat and talked with Annie Carey in the leafy hollow. From the distaff of these hours was spun a delicate thread weaving into the pattern of her life an entirely new color. This color was not consciously Se thing. Her talks with Hammond in the glen were rather like drinking thirstily from an in- exhaustible and delightful fountain. She knew, in short, the experience of finding a kindred mind. Though she sat on a hillside fronting bald > pen slopes and the un- gainly contours of an ugly village, her whole domestic milieu, her mind ranged in free, uncharted spaces. She caught a luster of happiness that brought sunlight into the coldest corner of her life. She was not impersonal to Hammond. His first meeting had been an affair of acci- dental diversion, but at the second meeting with her she took on for him a quality compound of both amusement and com- passion. Her ardors, her naiveté, her un- thinkable lack of sophistication, her latent wistfulness, her problems of creation, her motherhood, the limitations of her life— set her in a unique region of his mind, kindled a sudden overpowering wish to help her. His own_need of help or sym- athy had passed long before. He had ound his way, had conquered. He wished now he might pause on his carefree bach- elor way and put out a helping hand. Of these considerations Annie Carey was en- tirely unaware. In her talks with him Hammond was, for her, scarcely a man— rather a detached personality. But when she was homeward bound and faced a return to The Courier-Trumpet, there would come upon her a ogee sense of iniquity — incompatible with her soul’s comfort. If only she could tell Star- bird so that he would understand—if only she had told him in the first place. She had tried to speak of it after the second meet- ing; being the second meeting made it even harder than the first. She took refuge in the eternal hypothetical question, crumb- ing her bread at supper. “Starbird,” she asked, “I—I wish you would tell me something. Do you think if Annie Carey October 9,1920 a woman—a man’s wife, I mean—if the wife of someone became acquainted in an unconventional way with—with another person—very unconventionally— but it was all about conventional things ——” “I don’t know what you’re talking about and I don’t think you do.” “T mean—if I became acquainted with a writer—a man writer, that is—and we talked, oh, about things of the mind- books and literature—and our work; and if I didn’t mention it—in particular—and, well, it was all perfectly proper, would you—would ne consider it et + “How could it be improper if it was per- fectly proper?” asked Starbird. “All writers are nuts,” he added scornfully. “Nobody holds anything against a nut.” = found it impossible to say anything then. After all, as I say, it ended on the fourth afternoon. Even so, it was slightly shocking. They had talked at some length about Annie Carey’s own work—the paths her mind was to follow. How she was patiently to commence her apprenticeship, her service of reality—begin her quest for her own truth, her own expression. “Your work is yourself—your own truth. You must find yours. You have the tools—your medium and your amazing fancy to clothe it. Write the things you know—yourself. After all,”” Hammond broke off, “‘there’s no need to tell you. You would discover it for yourself. And even if you’ve had a lot of denial, been starved a bit—it will really help you. The good work comes out of just that—denial, starvation. Do you know,” he added abruptly, ‘“‘you haven’t found yourself at all—even in other things? Do you know, for example, that you are a really beautiful woman?” Annie Carey turned pale. “Beautiful?” she faltered. be joking.” “Never less in my life.” She turned paler still. She knew now she ought to have told Starbird. “Well, you mustn’t say a thing like that—to me.” “Why not, pray?” “Because—I’m married,” she said. “T see,” he said gravely. ‘ Marriage is the insuperable bar. It places a woman beyond the pale in the provinces. Never- theless, it is a fact. You are beautiful. You will be more so some day. If I offend you, forgive me. I shall not offend again. I am going away to-morrow.” A curious flatness, a fatigue came over Annie Carey. She remembered reading somewhere that life is all good-bys. She said, a little primly, “I’m sorry you’re going. i 4 “You must I'll miss you.’ “T’ll miss you, Annie Carey Simcox. But I'll watch for you. I’ve a feeling yeu’ll win out and come along right gallantly.” Going home after her farewell, it seemed to Annie Carey the world was strangely dead, She felt profoundly lonely and dis- couraged, but as she approached The Courier-Trumpet she saw a man enter. It was the newspaper mortgagee. His presence was like a flare of trumpets, a passionate call to duty. “T’ve got to do better and better,” she told herself fiercely. There had lain in the back of her mind for a long time a nebulous idea, a delicate half-formed framework that offered in- triguing suggestions for the interplay of certain ideas and philosophies. It was a fabric of her own weaving—the nucleus of a veritable book, if she chose to write it. She took out and examined her idea anew, and it seemed to her both authentic and victorious in quality, made of herself and her repressions. Suddenly she was on fire with it. She could scarcely wait for the day to end that she might be free to try it, to release herself of the new surcharged energy that oppressed her. It is a pity that it could not have come sooner. In the next few months The Courier- Trumpet and the family fortunes collapsed together. Starbird fell ill, never to be well again. The paper was sold out to the Edmonston Star. The flag of auction flut- tered from the second floor. Under the hammer went the floral plaques and the dog-headed rug. With what lares were left Annie Carey took her sick husband and her little sons to a tiny cottage on the skirts of town. Here now, gallantly, she entered the lists with Death. She rode at him, lance down, with all her heart. By day she (Concluded on Page 75)

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THE SATURDAY A Prize Contest for Valspar Users— and Oil Cloth, and renews the life and ap- pearance of these materials after many F course there are many uses for Valspar that everybody knows about— I . : : months of hard wear. It brightens the colors i On floors and furniture, on all varnished — : ‘ and makes the floor covering last longer. surfaces, indoors and out, in homes, hotels, theatres, schools and offices, the superiority of Baby Carriages —A J z ki “ 4 , os - » Valspar is being demonstrated every day. Valsparred baby carriage 4 ‘ ’ : is easily kept fresh and Onairplanesrushingat terrificspeed through clean, as it can be washed i mist and clouds, biting cold and blazing heat freely. of the sun, Valspar has impressively proved its : , og ge sos Fireless Cookers—Hot wonderful flexibility and waterproof qualities. . | steam has no effect on ] eae ) On speed boats, sailing yachts and craft of all Valspar. kinds, Valspar, being waterproof, is recognized Draining Boards—Hot, soapy water cannot ) as the most satisfactory varnish formarineuse. make the wood rough and splintery if it’s Valsparred. Other Uses for Valspar Shoes—An occasional coat : of Valspar makes shoe soles But there are many other practical uses—more un- usual ones perhaps, that lots of people might never think of—where Valspar saves money, improves appearance, and greatly increases serviceability. wear twice as long and abso- lutely keeps the dampness out. Window and Door Screens— . Valspar keeps the wire from rusting and the frames like ‘ A Valspar test in the clouds! The cars of the Pike's Peak Railway are new. ' exposed to rain, snow, hail and mist, and to extreme Trunks—V alspar will keep your trunk from looking shabby, and also water- proof it. temperature changes. Val- | spar has proved superior to any other varnish used. Wicker Furniture—Porch and garden furniture 7: ] 5 ig Vi Jsers —Expose . a . . ; The Railroads are Big Valspar Users —Exposed that is Valsparred is not affected by sun or rain. to every shift and change of weather—standing up under rain, snow, fog, wind and sun—Valspar Varnish has made good on a 100% basis as a railroad varnish on cars, engines and tenders. Valspar is weatherproof, waterproof ,and almost wear-proof. Golf Clubs—Valsparring keeps the shafts springy and moisture-proof and pre vents the thread windings from raveling. Refrigerators —Valspar is exceptionally effective for re- frigerators and iceboxes be cause it is proof against mois- ture and temperature changes. Floor Coverings— Valspar preserves new Linoleum, Congoleum 9 VALENTINE’S LSPAR The Varnish That Won't Turn White EVENING POST The famous Valspar boiling water test Canoes, etc. —Valspar pre- serves and protects canoes, pad- dles, oars, baseball bats, bowling alleys, balls and pins, croquet sets, skis and snow shoes. Fishing Rods—A coat of Valspar will double the life of bamboo, wood or metal rods. Creels also. Tennis Rackets —Valspar makes the strings moisture-proof; protects the frame. Oilskins — Especially when they begin to dry and crack, can be made better than new and abso- lutely waterproof with Valspar. Gun Stocks—The smooth finish of gun stocks is preserved by Valspar. But we want to learn still more ways in which Valspar has been used successfully. There must be lots of them. If you knowof any, here’s your chance. 88 Cash Prizes Have you ever used Valspar for an unusual purpose? Did you ever Valspar anything other than the articles listed above? Do you know from experience of any use for Valspar not mentioned in this advertisement? If so, tell us about it and try for a prize We offer cash for new Valspar uses. The 88 suggestions which in the judgment of the Prize Award Committee are most interesting and best suited for advertising Valepar will be awarded the prizes ae follows One Prize of $100 Two Prizes of 50 cach Five Prizes of 2 | Ten Prizes of 10 Twenty Prizes of 5 Fifty Prizes of 2 Conditions of the Contest The only conditions of the contest are 1. Valspar must actually have been used, prior to September 15th, 1920, under the circumstances and with the result. you describe 2. You must give the name and address of your local paint dealer Just write us a letter setting forth the facts in your own words Today is the best time to do it. All replies must be in by December Ist, 1920. VALENTINE & COMPANY Largest Manufacturers of High-grade Varnishes in the World ESTABLISHED 1832 New York City 456 Fourth Avenue

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Those who look back upon a_ past filled with the toil of housework as it was done a generation ago perhaps best appreciate how lucky is the housewife of today. rue, there were washing machines and sweepers before the era of the mod- ern woman, but it was only after the in- vention and development of the electric motor that real progress began in light- ening the labor of the home. In this work Westinghouse has had a principal part. The motor of today represents to a great extent the ideas and efforts of Westinghouse men, and West- “Sf there had only been JMlotors in my day : WESTINGHOUSE ELECTRIC & MANUFACTURING COMPANY nehouse - 7 inghouse has co-operated to the fullest with the manufacturers of motor-driven appliances. That is one reason why you will find Westinghouse Motors on leading makes of washing-machines, vacuum cleaners, ironing machines, dish-washers and va- rious other labor-saving appliances for the home. When you find a Westinghouse trade- mark on the motor of your electric appliance, you will know that the manu- facturer was willing to pay a little more for this important part to insure your satisfaction. October 9,1920 HOUSEHOLD PURPOSES

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an (Concluded from Page 72) scribbled melodrama and nursed Starbird and fed and dressed her little lads. At night, what time she could spare, she wrote at her heart’s own desire—pushing to a close the thing that meant herself, her mind’s integrity. It was a year of feverish striving, a species of warfare—offensives, retreats, maneuvers, deployings, profoundstrategy — with Starbird clinging to her generalship. She was hardly conscious of the passage of time, so busy her hours—her nights so filled with material service or drowned hours of writing that broke off with the lark’s first sweet cry outside. When the book was done and sent away there was a queer hiatus in her mind, but not for long. The battle was suddenly on, more des- perate than ever. She signed a publisher's contract absent-mindedly on the day a great specialist sat at Starbird’s side. She cor- rected her proofs in intervals of snatched distracted anxiety. Thereafter fell a blank of many months when time failed entirely— when all life was tuned to the struggle of one man simply to live. It ended on a mild day in summer, a day hyacinthine with garden fragrance and gentle summer airs. Annie Carey drew down the shades to the sills in her hus- band’s room and sent the little boys out-of- doors. The world seemed so hushed, so stilled, so abruptly ended, that she was conscious only of a queer light-headedness. She stepped into the shabby little porch and saw the green and gold of morning- glory leaves, the white palings with the phlox and sweet Wiiliam—beyond, the dusty, narrow road. “Rural delivery” was moving slowly away from her box—the gray wagon tipping along behind a loppety old horse. There was mail; the little red flag was up. Annie Carey went to get it mechanically. She opened the single letter and read automati- cally the strip of paper it contained. It was her first royalty check, and as she read the size of the figures the world about her seemed moving up and in gray irregular waves. Blindly she faltered back to that quiet room she had left. She knelt beside her husband and laid her cheek against his hand. “Oh, Starbird—Starbird,” she wept, “I did the best I could.” vi N SEVEN years a man may accomplish much. A Jacob may win a Rachel—a Hohenzollern may topple from the heights of a visionary Olympus to the depths of practical Avernus. A mind seeking its own meaning may establish contact and generate after many mishaps the particular energy to which it is predestined. On a late February afternoon at one of Mrs. Bodley’s tea fights the crowd, thin- ning a little, revealed to a certain masculine late comer a little nucleus of choral spirits clustered at one end of the room about what appeared to:be-an animated bouquet, but which resolved itself into a face-—a small, pointed, warm-colored face inwreathed in a mist of thick purplish-auburn hair sur- mounted by a floral toque of Burbankian pretensions. He heard the murmured comment. “Annie Carey Simcox—who wrote An Intimate Document and Mayflower. She’s going to be one of the real ones.” He didn’t need the comment. Through a break in the crowd two pairs of eyes ex- changed glances of perfect cognizance. Annie Carey fluttered across to meet his extended hand. “‘ After all this time!” she cried. “But I knew you instantly.” “And I knew you, Annie Carey—though you look younger than ever and are dressed like Cinderella.” “Think of it! Me in a two-hundred- dollar frock and this hat—these shoes—but I’m old really, quite changed. An old lady. I’ve shaken the dust of thirty-five. And think of the boys—two great big beautiful dolls—nearly men—off to school at St. Clements.” She lifted a tortoise-shell locket she wore on a gold chain and offered him two young masculine faces. Hammond examined them with the perfunctory ardor one man accords the offspring of another. “Beautiful,” he said; ‘‘and you look like big sister, that’s all. Tell me what you are doing. Talk about you.” “Not here.” She told him she was going home—she had an apartment near the university. They would walk up there if he pleased— and she hoped he would please, because he was really her fairy godfather if she was Cinderella, and she wanted to thank him for ever so many things. A little later she fluttered along beside him with a quite consciously feminine pleasure in her fashionable appearance, in the city environment, the passing crowd. But she forgot these shortly. For she went back to pick up the thread of her narrative at the point where it had stopped for him. They turned presently into Morningside Park, and Annie Carey finished it all, sit- ting on one of the benches, carried back to the sorrows and difficulties of herself and Starbird. She cried a little into one of the expensive small handkerchiefs, and Ham- mond gave her time, abstractedly feeding the bold squirrels that raced about his feet. Then he diverted her presently with tidings of himself. He had been living abroad— France and Italy. He was going back to nay presently. He drew her out of her- se Kinder than ever, she thought afterward. The same nice leaf-brown eyes, the tiny wrinkles about them a little deeper, but his whole gesture, kindliness and chivalry, overlaid with a certain pleasantly youthful quality, perennially his own. He was really, she thought, like someone stepped out of a novel, human, yet a little mys- terious, touched with advantages of worldly contact and cosmopolitanism. She hoped she would see him often. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST She did. not stay for tea, but walked out together or sat in quite simple fashion on the bench in the little park, with only squirrels for audience. am afraid Annie Carey presently divined a certain significance in this, but, ostrichlike, evaded it with a splendid show of innocence. But there came a time when she could evade no more. They had talked of everything they knew—of their craft, of the books they loved, of city and coun- try, of the problems of boyhood and boy schools, boy athletics, boy dietary, boy nurture and admonition, to the limit; of the past, of the future a little; of hopes, of despairs. Indeed, there seemed to be nothing left. Hammond's sailing was three “— off. hen he covered her hand with his one afternoon. “Annie Carey,” he said, “‘there’s some- thing I want to tell you. All these years, since I last saw you, I’ve loved remember- ing you, the memory of you. But now— well, I love you.” “You mustn’t say that,” Annie Carey sighed dutifully, though her heart quick- ened a little. “Why not?” “Because I’m an old woman.” “T see. Well, my venerable darling, it’s quite true, notwithstanding. I love you.” He said it two or three times, taking quite an inane pleasure in the repetition. “I | want you to marry me. All kinds of pals and lovers together. Old ones—best kind. We'll look after the boys. All they need. But we’ll sail away to Italy and work and play. Italy in the spring—a little place in the hills. I know where the olives will be white with blossom ——” “But our work ——” “Better than ever. We'll each of us go into our different house and live there all we please. When we emerge it will be all the nicer—good comrades together. Now, what do you say, Annie Carey?” She made a small incoherent sound and Hammond leaned closer. “What does that mean? Say it louder— but don’t dare to say anything that will displease me.”’ “T wasn’t going to,” said Annie Carey in a thread of voice. He teased her a little after a minute. “T don’t see just why you do it, after all. Out of the frying pan into the fire. Here you are, a woman of independent position, of enormous possibilities. I've watched your press. You could goit all alone beauti- fully, and you thrust your head into the lion’s mouth—just to please a selfish old | idiot. Why do you do it, Annie Carey?” She looked up at him, her eyes very soft—there was no question of their im- plication, something as hackneyed and old as Eve. But suddenly this was deflected in a little impulse to mischief. “T expect because dimpled. | This, you will remember, is exactly what I called her at the beginning of her story. Py Swish ~ ORAWN BY P. M. SWISHER He came every afternoon to | her apartment for a fortnight. They did | I’m a fool,” aa! I When you come to a vote On the kind of a coat You want for appearance and shelter, Of all you'll inspect You will wisely elect The durable, versatile Pelter. For the Gabardine stout Keeps the wetness all out, And the other side’s fashioned of leather, Which will chuckle at dust Or the winter's chill gust— In a Pelter you'll grin at the weather. It’s the coat for the chap Who likes tingle and snap In the clothes that he wears —for it’s nifty. It’s a coat you can use For what purpose you choose And the Pelter wins out with the Thrifty. So the Pelter, we'll state, Is our own candidate For the job of affording you shelter. It’s a wiz of a coat! We solicit your vote For the durable, versatile Pelter! It's time to think of a winter coat—get a real one this winter. Get a Pelter—cold proof, wind-proof, rain-proof—keepe you warm as toast on the coldest day— yet Three times the wear and three times the use of a cloth coat and costs about the same. Thai economy For men, women and children. Look for the name on every “‘Pelter A store near you sells Peiters. Do you know which one? If not, write us. International Duplex Coat Co. Pioneer Makers of Leather Coats 114-116 Fifth Avenue New York City

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76 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Count the Wheels that Run True Wobbly wheels destroy tires, and waste power and gasoline. Disteel Wheels are all steel—no uneven shrinking or expanding. They keep in perfect alignment, run true, stay round and hold the tire straight and firm. Therefore, wheels that run true are Disteel Wheels, the Inwardly Curved Wheels. OU will find that they are Disteel Wheels, in- evitably Disteel Wheels. The United States Tire Company has issued this warning to motorists: ‘‘A displacement of only one degree’’ in a wheel ‘‘has the same effect on a tire as if it were dragged 92% feet in every mile.”’ Exclusive Manufacturers: Detroit Pressed Steel Company, Detroit, U. S. A. New York Boston DISTEEL WHEEL CORPORATION Chicago _— San Francisco THE WHEELS THAT COMPLETE THE CAR October 9, 1920

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“Why don’t you write a book about these adventures?” she asked. “A book? No time,” said Cunningham. “Besides the moment one of these trips is overit ends; I canrecountit only sketchily.’ “But even sketchily it would be tremen- dously interesting. It is as if you were playing a game with death for the mere sport of it.’ “Maybe that hits it, though I’ve never stopped to analyze. I never think of death; it is a waste of gray matter. I should be no nearer death in Tibet than I should be asleep in a cradle. Why bother about the absolute, the inevitable? Hu- manity wears itself out building bridges for imaginary torrents. I am an exception; that is why I shall be y oung and handsome up to the moment the grim stalker puts his claw on my shoulder.” He smiled whimsically. “But you, have you never caught some of the passion for possessing rare paintings, rugs, manuscripts?” “You miss the point. What does the sense of possession amount to beside the sense of seeking and finding? Cleigh here thinks he is having a thrill when he signs a check. It is to laugh!” “Have you ever killed a man?” It was one of those questions that leap forth irre- sistibly. Jane was a bit frightened at her temerity. Cunningham drank his coffee deliber- ately. “Yes. “Oh!” Jane shrank back a little. “But never willfully,”” Cunningham added—‘“‘always in self-defense, and never a white man.” There was a peculiar phase about the man’s singular beauty. Animated, it was youthful; in grim repose, it was sad and old. “Death!” said Jane in a kind of awed whisper. ‘I have watched many die, and I cannot get over the terror of it. Here is a man with all the faculties, physical and mental; a human being, loving, hating, working, sleeping; and in an instant he is nothing!’ “A Chinaman once said that the thought of death is as futile as water in the hand. By the way, Cleigh—and you too, captain give the wireless a wide berth. There’s death there.” Jane saw the fire opals leap into the dark eyes. ” xr HE third day out they were well below Formosa, which had been turned on a wide arc. The sea was blue now, quiescent, waveless; there was only the eternal roll. Still Jane could not help comparing the sea with the situation—the devil was slumber- ing. What if he waked? Time after time she tried to force her thoughts into the reality of this remarkable cruise, but it was impossible. Romance was always smothering her, edging her off, when she approached the sinister. Per- haps if she had heard ribald songs, seen evidence of drunkenness; if the crew had loitered about and been lacking in respect, she would have been able to grasp the ac- tuality; but so far the idea persisted that this could not be anything more than a pleasure cruise. Piracy? Where was it? So she measured her actions accordingly, read, played the phonograph, went here and there over the yacht, often taking her stand in the bow and peering down the cut- water to watch the antics of some humor- ous porpoise or to follow the smother of spray where the flying fish broke. In fact she conducted herself exactly as she would have done on board a passenger ship. There were moments when she was hon- estly bored. Piracy! This was an established fact. Cunningham and his men had stepped out- side the pale of law in running off with the Wanderer. But piracy without drunken disorder, piracy that wiped its feet on the doormat and hung its hat on the rack! There was a touch of the true farce in it. Hadn’t Cunningham himself confessed that the whole affair was a joke? Round two o’clock on the afternoon of the third day Jane, for the moment alone in her chair, heard the phonograph—the sex- tet from Lucia. She left her chair, looked down through the open transom and dis- covered Dennison cranking the machine. He must have seen her shadow, for he glanced up quickly. He crooked a finger which said, “Come on down!” She made a negative sign and withdrew her head. Here she was again, on the verge of wild laughter. Donizetti! Pirates! Glass beads for which Cleigh had voyaged sixteen thousand miles! A father and son who ig- nored each other! She choked down this desire to laugh, because she was afraid it might end suddenly in hysteria and tears. She returned to her chair, and there was the father arranging himself comfortably. He had a book. “Would you like me to read a while to you?” she offered. “Will you? You see,” he confessed, “I’m troubled with insomnia. If I read by myself I only become interested in the book, but if someone reads aloud it makes me drowsy.” “As a nurse I’ve done that hundreds of times. But frankly, I can’t read poetry; I begin to singsong it at once; it becomes rime without reason. What is the book?” Cleigh extended it to her. The moment her hands touched the volume she saw that she was holding something immeasurably precious. The form was unlike the familiar shapes of modern books. The covers con- | sisted of exquisitely hand-tooled calf, bound by thongs; there was a subtle per- fume as she opened them. Illuminated vellum. She uttered a pleasurable little asp. “The Song of Songs, which is Solomon's,” she read. “Fifteenth century—the vellum. The Florentine covers were probably added in the seventeenth. I have four more down- stairs. They are museum pieces, as we say.” “That is to say, priceless?” “‘ After a fashion.” “*“Many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods drown it; if a man would give all the substance of his house for love, it would utterly be contemned!’” “W hy did you select that? “I didn’t select it; I remembered it— because it is true.” “You have a very pleasant voice. Go on—read.” Thus for an hour she read to him, and by the time she grew tired Cleigh was sound asleep. The look of granite was gone from his face, and she saw that he, too, had been handsome in his youth. Why had he struck Denny on the mouth? What had the son done, so to enrage the father? Some woman! And where had she met the man? Oh, she was certain that she had encoun- tered him before! But for the present the gate to recollection refused to swing out- ward. Gently she laid the beautiful book on his knees and stole over to the rail. For a while she watched the flying fish. Then came one of those impulses which keep human beings from becoming half gods—a wrong impulse, surrendered to im- mediately, unweighed, unanalyzed, un- challenged. The father asleep, the son amusing himself with the phonograph, she was now unobserved by her guardians; and so she put into execution the thou od that had been urging and intriguing since the strange voyage began—a visit to the chart house. She wanted to ask Cun- ningham some questions. He would know something about the Cleighs. The port door to the chart house was open, latched back against the side. She hesitated for a moment outside the high- beamed threshold—hesitated because Cap- tain Newton was not visible. The wheel- man was alone. Obliquely she saw Cun- ningham, Cleve and a third man seated round a table which was littered. This third man sat facing the port door, and sensing her presence he looked up. Rather attractive until one noted the thin hard lips, the brilliant blue eyes. At the sight of Jane something flitted over his face, and Jane knew that he was bad. ““What’s the matter, Flint?”’ asked Cun- ningham, observing the other’s abstraction. ‘*We have a visitor,”’ answered Flint. Cunningham spun his chair round and jumped to his feet. “Miss Norman? Come in, come in! Anything you need?”’ he asked with lively interest. “T should like to ask you some ques- tions, Mr. Cunningham.” “Oh! Well, if I can answer them, I will.” He looked significantly at his com- | panions, who rose and left the house by the starboard door. THE SATURDAY THE PAGAN MADONNA (Continued from Page 27) The Pen for every writing purpose EVENING POST The Crescent Filler— the filler that fills fully and perfectly. Electricity Means Instant Service and so does your Conklin Fountain Pen. Any- where, anytime, on the train, at the office, at home, your Conklin is ready to write instantly the point touches the paper. And it writes so easily and smoothly, that it enables you to do more and better work without tiring. There is a Conklin Pen for every style of handwriting; for every writing purpose; for every man, woman and child in the world. Your dealer will be glad to show you your Conklin— the one which best suits your individual need and preference. The Crescent Filler enables you to fill your Conklin fully and perfectly. One filling will write for hours. Your Conklin is made to give years of excellent service. There are no springs, pivots or levers to get out of order. Every Conklin Crescent Filler Fountain Pen is guaranteed during its entire life against any de- fectin materials or workmanship. Conklin prices are uniform all over the United States at lead- ing stationery, jewelry, drug and department stores. Price—$2.50 and up. Canadian Price, 50c additional. THE CONKLIN PEN MFG. CO., Boston San Francisco 59 Temple Place 577 Market Street Toledo, Ohio Chicago 1405 Lytton Building Buy the Pen with the Gold Crescent

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penereser x THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Dwelling at Asheville, N. C., roofed with Sta-so surfaced shingles There’s no such word in the Sta-so Dictionary! UPPOSE a dictionary of words describing Sta-so laminated slate roof surface had been compiled by the 350,000 enthusiastic owners of homes protected by Sta-so’d roofing. You would find in it such words as ‘“‘beauty’”’ and ‘*charm,”’ descriptive of Sta-so’s appearance. -such words as “distinctive” to describe Sta-so’s unique granular texture. “ green 4 ” a restful sage green,” and “red—a deep Indian red,” to describe Sta-so’s rich colors. -‘‘ fire-resisting,”’ *‘weather-resisting’’ and “economical” to describe three other important Sta-so qualities. But nowhere in the Sta-so dictionary would you find the word + fade.” Kor Sta-so’s colors cannot fade; they are indelible; they defy even the penetrating rays of the sun. Therefore Sta-so’s colors are permanent; they last as long as the roofing itself. The Sta-so label on slate-surfaced roofing is your protection against slates that fade or imitation slates that trade on the reputa- tion of genuine fade-proof Sta-so laminated slate. That’s why you should insist on finding the label on the rolls or on the bundles of shingles when you purchase the slate-surfaced roofing of the man- ufacturers listed below: Amalgamated Roofing Co Chicago, Ill Barber Aephalt Paving Co . Phila., Pa Barrett Co New York, N. ¥ Beckman-Dawson Rig. Co Chicago, Ul Hird & Son, Lid Hamilton, Ont... Can Bird & Son, Inc Fast Walpole, Mavs Philip Carey Mfg. Co Cincinnati, Ohio Flintkote Co. Boston, Masa Ford Rig. Products Co . St. Louls, Mo. The Heppes Rig. Division The Richarcsen Co . Chieago, Tl Keystone Roofing Mfg. Co. ork, Pa. McHenry Millhouse Mfg. Co.,South Bend, Ind National Asbestos Mig. Co., Jeraey City, N.] National Rig. Co onawanda, N. Y. B. F. Nelson Mfg. Co Minneapolis, Minn Pioneer Paper Co ‘ Los Angelea, Cal Reynolds Shingle Co. Grand Rapids, Mich Richardeon Co. . Cincinnati, Ohio Safepack Mills . Boston, Mase. Si Fo Products Co : St. Paul, Minn Standard Paint Co New Vork, N. Y. Usona Mfg. Co Aurora, Ill, H. F. Watson Co A. H. White Rfg. Co Wiilberite Rig. Co ° : . Erie, Pa New Orleans, La Cleveland, Ohio NON-FADINGISLATEL ele) 4 SURFACE. | Photographic reproduction, Sta-so Surfaced Roofing. Sta-so's granular texture lends it- self to every style of architectural treatment. JOGGS OP SS TES REESE SOLS SEES eEESeCSEE DES OE SEES SHsDEEES Heseesees taseeseseeseee. Torr , “They can’t keep away from him, can | they?” said Flint cynically. “Slue-Foot | has the come-hither, sure enough. I had an | idea she’d be hiking this way the first | chance she got.” | “You haven’t the right dope this trip,” replied Cleve. “The contract reads: Hands off women and booze.” “Psalm-singing pirates! We'll be having prayers Sunday. But that woman is my style.” “Better begin digging up a prayer if you've got that bug in your head. If you make any fool play in that direction Cun- ningham will break you. I saw you last night staring through the transom. Watch your step, Flint. I’m telling you.” “But if she should happen to take a fancy to me, who shall say no?” “ Hate yourself, eh? There was liquor on your breath last night. Did you bring some aboard?” “What's that to you?” “It’s a whole lot to me, my bucko—to me and to the rest of the boys. Cleigh will not prosecute us for piracy if we play a decent me until we raise the Catwick. On old Jan Dorn’s tub we can drink and sing if we want to. If Cunningham gets a whiff of your breath, when you've had it, you'll get yours. Most of the boys have never done anything worse than apple stealing. It was the adventure. All keyed up for war and no place to go, and this was a kind of safety valve. Already half of them are be- ginning to knock in the knees. Game, understand, but now worried about the future.” “A peg or two before turning in won’t hurt anybody. I’m not touching it in the daytime.” “Keep away from him when you do— that’s all. We’re spending on you and Cunningham to pull through. If you two get to scrapping the whole business will go blooey. If we play the game according to contract there’s a big chance of getting back to the States without having the sheriff on the dock to meet us. But if you mess it up because an unexpected stroke put a woman on board, you'll end up as shark bait.” “Maybe I will and maybe I won’t,”’ was the truculent rejoinder. “Lord!” said Cleve, a vast discourage- ment in his tone. ‘You lay a course as true and fine as a hair, and run afoul a rot- ting derelict in the night!” Flint laughed. | “Oh, I shan’t make any trouble. I'll say my prayers regular until we make shore finally. The agreement was to lay off the Cleigh booze. I brought on board only a couple of quarts, and they’ll be gone before we raise the Catwick. But if I feel like talking to the woman I'll do it.” “It’s your funeral, not mine,” was the ominous comment. ‘ You've been on the beach once too often, Flint, to play a game like this straight. But Cunningham had to have you, because you know the Malay lingo. Remember, he isn’t afraid of any- thing that walks on two feet or four.” “Neither am I—when I want anything. But glass beads!” “That was only a lure for Cleigh, who'd go round the world for any curio he was interested in.” “That's what I mean. If it were dia- monds or pearls or rubies, all well and good. Buta string of glass beads! The old duffer is a nut!” “Maybe he is. But if you had ten or twelve millions, what would you do?” “Jump for Prome and foot it to the silk bazaar, where there are three or four of the prettiest Burmese girls you ever laid your eyes on. Then I’d buy the Galle Face Ho- tel in Colombo and close it to the public.” “And in five years—the old beach again!” Flint scowled at the oily heaving rolls, brassy and dazzling. He was bored. For twelve weeks he had circled the dull round of ship routine, with never shore leave that | was long enough for an ordinary drinking bout. He was bored stiff. Suddenly his thin lips broke into a smile. Cleve, noting the smile, divined something of the impel- lent thought behind that smile, and he grew | uneasy. He recalled his own expression of a few moments gone—the unreckoned derelict. “Thank you for coming up,” said Cun- ningham. “It makes me feel that you trust me.” “T want to,” admitted Jane. A disturbing phenomenon. Always there was a quickening of her heart beats at the October 9,1920 beginning of each encounter with this un- usual gentleman rover. It was no longer fear. What was it? Was it the face of him, too strong and vital for a woman’s, too handsome for a man’s? Was it his dark, fiery eye which was always reversing what his glib tongue said? Some hidden mag- netism? Alone, the thought of him was re- current, no matter how resolutely she cast it forth. Even now she could not honestly say whether she was here to ask questions of Cunningham or of herself. Perhaps it was because he was the unknown, whereas Denny was for the most part as readable as an open book. The one like the forest stream, sometimes turbulent but always clear; the other like the sea through which they plowed, smooth, secret, ominous. “Do your guardians know where you are?’’—raillery in his voice. “No. I came to ask some questions.” “Curiosity. Sit down. What is it you wish to know?” “* All this—and what will be the end.” “Well, doubtless there will be an end, but I’m not seer enough to foretell it.”’ “Then you have some doubts?” “Only those that beset all of us.” “But somehow—well, you don’t seem to belong to this sort of game.” “Why not?” Unexpectedly he had set a wall between. She had no answer, and her embarrass- ment was visible on her cheeks. “Here and there across the world rough men call me Slue-Foot. Perhaps my de- formity has reacted upon my soul and twisted that. Perhaps if my countenance had been homely and rugged I would have walked the beaten paths of respectability. But the two together!” “T’m sorry!’ “‘A woman such as you are would be. You are a true daughter of the great mother—Pity. But I have never asked pity of any. I have asked only that a man shall keep his word to me as I will keep mine to him.” “But you are risking your liberty, per- haps your life!” “I’ve been risking that for more than twenty years. The habit has become nor- mal. All my life I’ve wanted a real adven- ture.” She gazed at him in utter astonishment. “An adventure? Why, you yourself told me that you had risked your life a hundred times!” “That?”—with a smile and a shrug. “That was business, the day’s work. I mean an adventure in which I am account- able to no man.” “Only to God?” “Well, of course, if you want it that way. For myself, I’m something of a pagan. I have dreamed of this day. When you were a little girl didn’t you dream of a wonderful doll that could walk and make almost hu- man noises? Well, I’m realizing my doll. I am going pearl hunting in the South —— thing I dreamed of when I was a oy. “But why commit piracy? Why didn’t you hire a steamer?” “‘Oh, I must have my joke too. But I hadn’t counted on you. In every cam- paign there is the hollow road of Ohain. Napoleon lost Waterloo because of it. Your presence here has forced me to use a hand without velvet. These men expected a little fun—cards and drink; and some of them are grumbling with discontent. But don’t worry. In five days we’ll be off on our own.” ‘*What is the joke?” “That will have to wait. Fora few min- utes I heard you reading to-day. Your voice is like a bell at sea in the evening. ‘Many waters cannot quench love,’” he quoted, the flash of opals in his eyes, though his lips were smiling gently. ‘The Bible is a wonderful book. Its authors were poets who were not spoiled by the curse of rime. Does it amuse you to hear me talk of the Bible?—an unregener- ate scalawag? Well, it is like this: I am something of an authority on illuminated manuscripts. I’ve had to wade through hundreds of them. That is the method by which I became acquainted with the Scrip- tures. The Song of Songs! Lord love you, if that isn’t pure pagan, what is? I prefer the Proverbs. Ask Cleigh if he has that manuscript with him. It’s in a remarkable state of preservation. Remember? ‘There be three things which are too wonderful for me, yea, four which I know not: The way of an eagle in the air; the way of a serpent upon a rock; the way of a ship in the midst (Continued on Page 81)

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 79 Announcin Packard “Single Six” E have always made large cars designed for maximum speed, great power, and all the roominess that goes with along wheelbase. The ultimate development has been the Twin Six, which has firmly estab- lished itself in the regard of the public, and which we have been producing and marketing for a number of years. Packard reputation for motor cars rests solidly upon the 7win Six, and it always will! Sitcfard, But there has for years been an in- sistent demand for another car to sup- plement the Twin Six: a car of shorter wheelbase and lighter weight, a gen’ eral-purpose car of great maneuver- ability in traffic, one that would park in a short space at the curb. And the demand was that this light car should give unusual gasoline mileage and tire mileage, and finally, that it should be designed and built Packard-wise, and therefore be able to keep out of the repair shop longest and to require least attention from its owner or driver. We thought it over and studied the problem for a good many years, dur- ing all of which we were accumulat- ing experience in the design and production of the highest possible grade of car. We have at various times during the past ten years designed a light- weight companion to our larger cars, but were never entirely satisfied with our efforts. Then the war broke out, in 1914, and believing that America would in- evitably become involved, we turned our attention to designing airplane engines, and from then to the close of the war had a thoroughly success- ful experience in designing and man- The 10-Year Car ufacturing airplane motors, which, as you know, must give the greatest power with the least possible weight. * * * We learned a great deal through this experience that was applicable to the automobile, and towards the close of the war we felt we were finally well equipped by experience to design the light-weight car. Meanwhile, with a constantly grow- ing talk of congestion in traffic, and increasing cost of gasoline, tires and other supplies, the demand for the light car became more and more insistent. + + * We have taken several years for the development and perfection of this new Packard, but we believe we have accomplished what we set out to do, and take now a pride in an- nouncing that the Packard Single Six will soon be ready. It will be manu- factured alongside the Twin Six and by the same matured and experienced organization. The new car is of five- passenger capacity and will be offered in Tour- ing, Runabout, Coupé and Brougham or Sedan. The motor has six cylinders, 3%" bore by 4%" stroke. It is therefore of medium size, and despite its light weight is very sturdily built. It is equipped with the Fuelizer. The Single Six motor is new through- out but it is not experimental. It includes every principle of good engineering that our experience has shown to make for maximum power, coupled with silent operation and freedom from annoying troubles. We have failed of our intentions if we have not produced a motor that will run longer and require less attention than any other. Our chassis design is very simple and clean. Its light weight, together with its unusually efficient motor, result in a very economical car. As an instance of this, in our test driving in cross-country runs we have made over twenty miles to the gallon of gasoline. Of course, in con- gested city driving the mileage will not be so high. Average tire mileage can be ex- pected to exceed 15,000 miles. In our extensive experimental driving of this new car we have had some tires in fair condition at the end of 25,000 miles. It is an agreeable car to operate, having the easiest possible steering, the lightest clutch action, the shortest turning radius, and, we believe, all those qualities that you would like to have in a light-weight car for general purposes. The workmanship and finish are Packard throughout.’ Sicfard The greatest obtainable luxury, the maximum power, and the ultimate in road-ability must always be found in the large car. That is the field in which the Packard Twin Six will always be dominant. In this new car we have not at- tempted to compete in that field, but rather to produce an active, easily operated, high-grade, light car, with all the elements of efficiency, econ- omy of operation and, above all, long life. There are Packard cars today, de- signed years ago, that are nearing the half-million mark in miles traveled. The new Single Six is also, we con- fidently believe, aTEN- YEAR CAR, The price of the Touring Car is $3640 at Detroit. PACKARD MOTOR CAR COMPANY, Detroit

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST October 9,19290 - + - + Douglas Fir Northern White Pine Idaho White Pine Western Soft Pine AN INDUSTRY IS NO STRONGER THAN ITS Western Hemlock Washington Red Cedar Red Fir and Larch Norway Pine SERVICE TO THE PEOPLE OU have heard men say that good lum- ber is scarce. They say that lumber isn’t what it used to be, and that we must soon come to use substitute materials. Do you know how much good lumber there is in this country today? With the possible exception of the hardwoods, there is as much good lumber available for con- struction purposes as there ever was at any time since America became a nation. There is more standing timber today in the United States than ever was made into lumber since the Pilgrims landed on Plymouth Rock. An industry is no stronger than its service to the people. As substantial factors in the lumber business the Weyerhaeuser people wish to render real service to you and to everyone who uses lumber. Whether you are a home-builder planning a beautiful residence; a workman who wants a couple of boards or a bunch of lath; a farmer building a cow-barn or a corn-crib; or a great industrial corporation specifying 10,000,000 feet in one order —we want you to know the facts about lumber. To this end we will supply to lumber dealers and to the public any desired infor- mation as to the qualities of different species and the best wood for a given purpose. This service will be as broad and im- partial as we know how to make it. We are not partisans of any particular species of wood. We advise the best lumber for the purpose, whether it is a kind we handle or not. What we advocate is conservation and economy through, the use of the right wood in its proper place. If we could insure your getting the wood you ought to have, it might mean a difference of years in the life and service of the lumber — fifty years perhaps as against a few months. So important is the selection of the right wood or grade of wood for a given use. W From now on the Weyerhaeuser Forest Products trade-mark will be plainly stamped on their product. You can see it for your- self at the lumber yard or on the job after it is delivered. When you buy lumber for any purpose, no matter how much or how little, you can look at the mark and know that you are getting a standard article of known merit. WEYERHAEUSER FOREST PRODUCTS SAINT PAUL* MINNESOTA Producers of Douglas Fir, Western Hemlock, Washington Red Cedar and Cedar Shingles on the Pacific Coast; Idaho White Pine, Western Soft Pine, Red Fir and Larch in the Inland Empire; Northern White Pine and Norway Pine in the Lake States. x

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————— (Continued from Page 78) of the sea; and the way of a man with a maid.’ Ask Cleigh to show you that.” Gale ! The name swung her back to the original purpose of this visit. “Do you know the Cleighs well?” “T know the father. He has the gift of strong men—unforgetting and unforgiving. I know little or nothing about the son, ex- cept that he is a chip of the old block. Queer twist in events, eh?” “Have you any idea what estranged them?” “Didn’t know they were at outs until the night before we sailed. They don’t speak?” “No. And it seems so utterly foolish!’ “‘Cherchez la femme!” “You believe that was it?” “Tt is always so, always and eternall the woman. I don’t mean that she is al- ways to blame; I mean that she is always there—in the background. But you! I say now, here’s the job for you! Bring them together. That’s your style. For weeks now you three will be together. Within that time you'll be able to twist both of them round your finger. I wonder if you realize it? You're not beautiful, but you are something better—splendid. Strong men will always be gravitating toward you, wanting comfort, peace. You’re not the kind that sets men’s hearts on fire, that makes absconders, fills the divorce courts, and all that. You're like a cool hand on a hot forehead. And you have a voice as sweet as a bell.” Instinct—the female fear of the trap— warned Jane to be off, but curiosity held her to the chair. She was human; and this flattery, free of any suggestion of love- making, gave her a warming, pleasurable thrill. Still there was a fly in the amber. Every woman wishes to be credited with hidden fires, to possess equally the power to damn men as well as to save them. “Has there never been ——” “A woman? Have I not just said there is always a woman?” He was sardonic now. ‘Mine, seeing me walk, laughed.” “She wasn’t worth it!” * “No, she wasn’t. But when we are twenty the heart is blind. So Cleigh and the boy don’t speak?” “Cleigh hasn’t injured you in any way, has he?” “Injured me? Of course not! I am only forced by circumstance—and an oblique sense of the comic—to make a convenience of him. And by the Lord Harry, it’s up to you to help me out!” “T?"’—bewildered. xIV Bn ny azed through the doorway at the sea. There was apparently no horizon, no telling where the sea ended and the faded blue of the sky began. There was something about this sea she did not like. She was North-born. It seemed to her that there was really less to fear from the Atlan- tic fury than from these oily, ingratiating, rolling mounds. They were the Uriah Heep of waters. She knew how terrible they could be, far more terrible than the fiercest nor’easter down the Atlantic. Typhoon! How could a yacht live through a hurri- cane? She turned again toward Cun- ningham. “You are like that,” she said irrel- evantly. “Like what?” “ Like this sea.” Cunningham rose and peered under the half-drawn blind. “That may be complimentary, but hanged if I know! Smooth?—is that what you mean?” ** Kind of terrible.” He sat down again. “That rather cuts. I might be terrible. I don’t know—never met the occasion; but I do krow that I’m not treacherous. You certainly are not afraid of me.” “TI don’t exactly know. It’s—it’s too peaceful.” “To last? I see. But it isn’t as o—— I were forcing you to go through with the real voyage. Only a few days more, and you'll have seen the last of me.” “T hope so.” He chuckled. “What I meant was,” she corrected, “that nothing might happen, nobody get hurt. Human beings can plan only so far.” “That’s true enough. Every program is subject to immediate change. But Lord, what a lot of programs go through per schedule! Still you are right. It all de- pends upon chance. We say a thing is cut THE SATURDAY and dried, but we can’t prove it. But so far as I can see into the future, nothing is going to happen, nobody is going to walk the plank. Piracy on a basis of 2.75 per cent—the kick gone out of it! But if you can bring about the reconciliation of the Cleighs the old boy will not be so keen for chasing me all over the map when this job is done.” “Will you tell me what those beads are?” “To be sure I will—all in due time. What does Cleigh call them?” “Love beads!” scornfully. “On mysolemn word, that’s exactly what they are.” “Very well. But remember, you promise to tell me when the time comes.” “That and other surprising things.” “T’ll be going.” “Come up as often as you like.” Cunningham accompanied her to the bridge ladder and remained until she was speeding along the deck; then he returned to his chart. But the chart was no longer able to hold his attention. So he leveled fis gaze upon the swinging horizon and kept it there for a long time. Odd fancy, picturing the girl on the bridge in a hurricane, her hair streaming out behind her, her fine body leaning on the wind. A shadow in the doorway broke in upon this musing. a “Come in and sit down,” invited Cun- ningham. But Cleigh ignored the invitation and stepped over to the steersman. “Has Miss Norman been in here?”’ “Tes, a.” “How long was she here?”’ “TI don’t know, sir; perhaps half an hour.” Cleigh stalked to the door, but there he turned, and for the first time since Cun- ningham had taken the yacht Cleigh looked directly, with grim intentness, into his enemy’s eyes. “Battle, murder and sudden death!” Cunningham laughed. “‘ You don’t have to tell me, Cleigh! I can see it in your eyes. If Miss Norman wants to come here and - questions I’m the last man to prevent er.”’ Cleigh thumped down the ladder. Cun- ningham was right—there was murder in his heart. He hurried into the main salon, and there he found Jane and Dennison con- versing. “Miss Norman, despite my warning you went up to the chart house.” “T had some questions to ask.” “I forbid you emphatically. sponsible for you.” “I am no longer your prisoner, Mr. Cleigh; I am Mr. Cunningham’s.” “You went up there alone?”’ demanded Dennison. “Why not? I’m not afraid. He will not break his word to me.” “Damn him!” roared Dennison. “Where are you going?”’ she cried, seiz- ing him by the sleeve. “To have it out with him! I can’t stand this any longer!” “And what will become of me—if any- thing happens to you, or anything happens to him? What about the crew if he isn’t on hand to hold them?” The muscular tenseness of the arm she held relaxed. But the look he or his father was on a par with that which Cleigh had so recently spent upon Cunningham. Cleigh could not support it, and turned his head aside. “All right. But mind you keep in sight! If you will insist upon talking with the scoundrel, at least permit me to be within call. What do you want to talk to him for anyhow?” “Neither of you will stoop to ask him questions, so I had to. And I have learned one thing. He is going pearl hunting.” “What? Off the Catwick? There’s no pearl oyster in that region,”” Dennison de- clared. “Either he is lying or the Catwick is a blind. The only chance he’d have would be somewhere in the Sulu Archi- pelago; and this time of year the pearl fleets will be as thick as flies in molasses. Of course if he is aware of some deserted atoll, why, there might be something in it.” “Have you ever hunted pearls?” “In a secondhand sort of way. But if pearls are his game, why commit piracy when he could have chartered a tramp to I am re- carry his crew? There’s more than one old bucket hereabouts ready to his hand for coal and stores. He’ll need a shoe spoon to get inside or by the Sulu fleets, since the oyster has been pretty well neglected these EVENING POST TRAVELING GOODS EOPLE sometimes say that they “hate to live in a trunk.” A confession about their choice of trunks! Get a Belber Wardrobe —and for all pracy tical purposes, you are equipped witha clothes (| closet and dresser combined. No waste of time hunting for lost articles. No irritation. MH, Nothing mussed—nothing dis-arranged. _|f Everything fresh, unwrinkled and in its place. For convenience, value and metropolitan style, remember this name “Belber.” It is the name of the largest makers of fine Luggage in the world today. The name of the people who know how to give you the full use of every inch of space in your trunk or bag. eet tener ee PTT The people who make Luggage as good inside as it looks outside. And this is important, | since the value of Luggage is in the things | you can't see. The better dealers in your city are show- ing Belber Wardrobe Trunks, Bags, and Suit Cases. If you should have any difficulty in finding Belber Traveling Goods, write us for name of nearest dealer. a See See Se THE BELBER TRUNK & BAG CO.,, Phila., Pa. — a. Sales Offices and Factories: New York Philadelphia Woodbury, N. J. Pittsburgh Chicago Oshkosh, Wis. Minneapolis San Francisco = T= Lt OE OREOS eee SHAH OLOE — Sona

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SHALER COMPANY 1407 Fourth St. Waupun, Wisconsin Sr ce cr ce ce Cut Me Out ! ! ! and mail me, with yourname | and address, to The Curtis | Publishing Company, 830 | Independence Square, Phila- | delphia, Pa. I will bring you | full details about how you, | as our subscription repre- | sentative, can make $5 or | $10 a week extra in your | spare time! ' ! ! ! ! ! ! Name. Address Worthington Quality Chairs and Tricycles The Colson Co. 977 Cedar St., Elyria, O. PATENT-SENSE oe Dy Reure Ma PEE, & Mire’ av tg Oe an : | THE SATURDAY five years, and every official pearler will be hiking down there. But it requires a cer- tain amount of capital and a stack of officially stamped paper, and I don’t fancy Cunningham has either.” Cleigh smiled dryly, but offered no com- ment. He knew all about Cunningham’s capital. “ Did he say anything about being picked up by another boat?” asked Dennison. “No,” answered Jane. “But I don’t be- lieve it will be hard for me to make him tell me that. J believe that he will keep his word too.’ “Jane, he has broken the law of the sea. I don’t know what the penalty is these days, but it used to be hanging to the yard- arm. He won’t be particular about his word if by breaking it he can save his skin. He’s been blarneying you. You've let his | plausible tongue and handsome face befog you.” “That is not true!” she flared. After- ward she wondered what caused the flash of perversity. “And I resent your inference!” she added with uplifted chin. Dennison whirled her about savagely, stared into her eyes, then walked to the companion, up which he disappeared. This rudeness astonished her profoundly. She appealed silently to the father. “We are riding a volcano,” said Cleigh. “T’m not sure but he’s setting some trap for you. He may need you as a witness for the defense. Of course I can’t control your actions, but it would relieve me immensely if you’d give him a wide berth.” “He was not the one who brought me aboard.” “No. And the more I look at it, the more I am convinced that you came on board of your own volition. You had two or three good opportunities to call for as- sistance.” “You believe that?” “I’ve as much right to believe that as you have that Cunningham will keep his word.” “Oh!” she cried, but it was an outburst of anger. And it had a peculiar twist too. She was furious because both father and son were partly correct; and yet there was no diminution of that trust she was putting in Cunningham. “Next you'll be hinting that I’m in collusion with him!” “No. Only he is an extraordinarily fasci- nating rogue, and you are wearing the tinted goggles of romance.” Fearing that she might utter something regrettable, she flew down the port passage and entered her cabin, where she remained until dinner. She spent the intervening hours endeavoring to analyze the cause of her temper, but the cause was as elusive as quicksilver. Why should she trust Cun- ningham? What was the basis of this trust? He had, as Denny said, broken the law of the sea. Was there a bit of black sheep in her, and was the man calling to it? And this perversity of hers might create an estrangement between her and Denny; she must not let that happen. The singular beauty of the man’s face, his amazing career and his pathetic deformity— was that it? “Where's the captain?” asked Cunning- ham curiously as he noted the vacant chair at the table that night. “On deck, I suppose.” “Isn't he dining to-night?”’"—an accent of suspicion creeping into his voice. ‘He isn’t contemplating making a fool of him- self, is he? He’ ll get hurt if he approaches the wireless.” “Togo,” broke in Cleigh, “bring the avocats and the pineapple.’ Cunningham turned upon him with a laugh. “Cleigh, when I spin this yarn some day I'll carry you through it as the man who never batted an eye. I can see now how you must shave bluffed Wall Street out of its boots.” When Cunningham saw that Jane was distrait he made no attempt to pull her out of it. He ate his dinner, commenting only occasionally. Still he bade her a cheery good night as he returned to the chart house, where he stayed continually, never quite certain what old Captain New- ton might do to the wheel and the compass if left alone too long. Dennison came in immediately after Cun- ningham’s departure and contritely apolo- gized to Jane for his rudeness. “I suppose I’m on the rack; nerves all raw; tearing me to pieces to sit down and twiddle my thumbs. Will you forgive me?” “Of course I will! I understand. You are all anxious about me. Theoretically this yacht is a volcano, and you're trying to EVENING POST keep me from kicking off the lid. But I’ve an idea that the lid will stay on tightly if we make believe we are Mr. Cunningham’s guests. But it is almost impossible to sus- pect that anything is wrong. Whenever a member of the crew comes in sight he is roperly polite, just as he would be on a iner. If I do go to the bridge again I’ll give you warning. Good night, Mr. Cleigh. I'll read to you in the morning. Good night— Denny.” Cleigh, sighing contentedly, dipped his a into the finger bowl and brushed his ips. The son drank a cup of coffee hastily, lit his pipe and went on deck. He proceeded directly to the chart house. “Cunningham, I'll swallow my pride and ask a favor of you.” “ Ah!’’—in a neutral tone. “The cook tells me that all the wine and liquor are in the dry-stores compartment. Will you open it and let me chuck the stuff overboard? “No,” said Cunningham promptly. “When I turn this yacht back to your father not a single guy rope will be out of order. It would be a fine piece of work to throw all those rare vintages over the rail simply to appease an unsubstantial fear on your part! No!” “But if the men should break in? And it would be easy, because it is nearer them than us.” “Thank your father for building the deck like a city flat. But if the boys should break in there’s the answer,”’ said Cunning- ham, laying his regulation revolver on the chart table. ‘And every mother’s son of them knows it.” “You refuse?” “to.” “Allright. But if anything happens I’ll be on top of you, and all the bullets in that a won't stop me.’ tain, you bore me. Your father and the ns py good sports. You ought to be one. I’ve given you the freedom of the yacht for the girl’s sake, when caution bids me dump you into the brig. I begin to suspect that your misfortunes are due to a violent temper. Run along with your thunder; I don’t want you hurt.” “If I come through this alive —— “You'll join your dad peeling off my hide—if you can catch me! It was with the greatest effort that Den- nison crushed down the desire to leap upon his tormentor. He stood tense for a mo- ment, then stepped out upon the bridge. His fury was suffocating him, and he real- ized that he was utterly helpless. Ten minutes later the crew in their quar- ters were astonished to see the old man’s son enter. None of them stirred. “IT say, any you chaps got an extra suit of twill? This uniform is getting too thick for this latitude. I’m fair melting down to the bone.” “Sure!” bellowed a young giant, swing- ing out of his bunk. He rummaged round for a space and brought forth a lightweight khaki shirt and a pair of ducks. ‘‘Guess these’ll fit you, sir.” “Thanks, Navy stores?” “Yes, sir. You’re welcome.” Dennison’s glance traveled from face to face, and he had to admit that there was none of the criminal type here. They might carry through decently. Nevertheless here- after he would sleep on the lounge in the main salon. If any tried to force the dry- stores door he would be likely to hear it. ” At eleven o'clock the following morning there occurred an episode which consider- ably dampened Jane’s romantical point of view regarding this remarkable voyage. Cleigh had gone below for some illuminated manuscripts and Dennison was out of sight for the moment. She leaned over the rail and watched the flying fish. Suddenly out of nowhere came the odor of whisky. “You ought to take a trip up to the cut- water at night and see the flying fish in the phosphorescence.” She did not stir. Instinctively she knew who the owner of this voice would be—the man Cunningham called Flint. A min- ute—an unbearable minute— passed. “Oh! Too haughty to be a good fellow, huh?” Footsteps, a rush of wind, a scuffling and an oath brought her head about. She saw Flint go balancing and stumbling back- ward, finally to sprawl on his hands and knees, and Bale a him, in an unmistak- able attitude, was Dennison. Jane was be- ginning to understand these Cleighs; their rage was terrible because it was always cold. October 9,1920 “Denny!” she called. But Dennison continued on toward Flint. xv te was a powerful man, or had been. The surprise of the attack over, he jumped to his feet, and blazing with mur- derous fury rushed Dennison. Jane saw a a of arms, and out of this tangle came icture that would always remain vivid— F int practically dangling at the end of Dennison’s right arm. The rogue tore and heaved and kicked and struck, but fu- tilely, because his reach was shorter. Den- nison let go unexpectedly. “Listen to me, you filthy beach comber! If you ever dare speak to Miss Norman again or come within ten feet of her I'll kill you with bare hands! There are no guns on board this yacht—bare hands. Now go back to your master and say that I'd like to do the same to him.” Flint, his hands touching his throat with inquiring solicitude—Flint eyed Dennison with that mixture of pain and astonishment that marks the face of a man who has been grossly deceived. Slowly he revolved on his shaking legs and staggered forward, shortly to disappear round the deck house. “Oh, Denny, you’ve done a foolish thing! You’ve shamed that man before me and put murder in his heart. It isn’t as if we were running the yacht. We are prison- ers of that man and his fellows. It would have been enough for you to have stepped in between. “‘T haven’t any parlor varnish left, Jane. His shoulder was almost touching yours. It was an intentional insult, and that was enough for me. The dog! Still looking at the business romantically?” His tone was bitter. Her reproach, no doubt justified, cut deeply. “No, I’m beginning to become a little afraid—afraid that the men may get out of hand. I don’t care what you and your father think, but I believe Cunningham honestly wishes us to reach the Catwick without any conflict.” “Ah, Cunningham!” “There you go again—angry and bitter! Why can’t you take it sensibly, like your father?” “My father doesn’t happen to be —— He stopped with mystifying shewptnens. “‘Doesn’t happen to be what?’ “The sort of fool I am!” “You're not so good a comrade as you were.” “Can't you understand? I’ve been stood upon my head. The worry about you on one side and the contact with my father on the other would be sufficient. But Cun- ningham and this pirate crew as a tail to the kite! But thank God, I had the wit to come in search of you!” “I thank God every minute, Denny! You are very strong,” she added shyly. “Glad of that too. But I repeat, I’ve lost the parlor varnish and the art of parlor talk. For seven years I’ve been wandering in strange places, most of them hard; so I say what I think and act on the spur. That dog had liquor on his breath. Is Cunningham secretly letting them into the dry stores?”’ “The man may have brought it aboard at Shanghai. What a horrible thing a great war is! In a week it knocks aside all the bars of restraint it took years to erect. Could a venture like this have happened in 1913? I doubt it. There comes your father. But who is the man with him? He’s been hurt.” “Father’s watchdog. They had to beat him up to get his gun away from him. That was the racket we heal. Evidently father expects you to read to him, so I’ll take a constitutional.” “Why, where’s your uniform?’ she cried. “Laid it aside. From now on it will be stuffy. Those military boots were killing me. I borrowed the rig from one of the pirates, but I’ll have to go barefoot.” “Will you come to your chair soon? I shall worry otherwise. You might run into that man again.” “T shan’t go below,” he promised, start- ng on. Twenty thousand at compound interest for seven years, he thought as he made the first turn. A tidy sum to start life with. Could he swallow his pride? And yet what hope was there of making a real living? He had never specialized in anything, and the world was calling for specialists and dis- carding the others. Another point to con- sider: Foot-loose for seven years, could he (Continued on Page 85)

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST The Proper Care of Childrens Hair How to Keep It Beautiful, Healthy and Luxuriant “THE care you give your child’s hair makes all the difference in the world in its appearance. the most important factor. Proper shampooing is real life and lustre, natural It brings out ill the wave and color, and makes it soft, fresh and luxuriant. Ciildren’s hair needs frequent and regular washing to keep it beautiful; but fine, young alps cannot stand the harsh soap The free alkali in the scalp, makes the hair and tender eflect of ordinary hair brittle and ruins it When the hair is dry, dull and heavy, lifeless, tiff and gummy and the stiands cling together, and it feels harsh and disagreeable to the touch, not been shampooed ordinary soap “Myon cri : it's because the hair has properly When the hair has been shampooed properly, and is thoroughly clean, it will be glossy, smooth and bright, fresh looking, soft and silky. It is a very easy matter to keep your child’s hair looking beautiful when you use Mulsified Cocoanut Oil Shampoo. This clear, pure and entirely greascless product cannot possibly injure, and does not dry the scalp or make the hair brittle, no matter how often it is used. Just Follow This Simple Method IRST, wet the hairs water, Then, apply a ind s« alp in clear, warm Cocoanut Oil Mulsified little vy “ Shampoo, rubbing it in thoroughly all over the scalp and throughout the entire length, down to the ends of the hau Two or three teaspoonfuls will make an abundance of rich, creamy lather. This should be rubbed in thoroughly and briskly with the finger tips, so as to loosen the dandruff and small particles of dust and dirt that stick to the scalp. When you have done this, rinse the hair and scalp thoroughly, using clear, fresh water. Then use another application of Mulsified. Two waters are usually sufficient for washing the hair; but sometimes the third is necessary. You can easily tell, for when the hajr is perfectly clean’ it will be soft and silky in the water, the strands will fall apart easily, each separate hair floating alone in the water and the entire mass, even while wet, will feel loose, fluffy and light to the touch and be so clean it will fairly squeak when you pull it through your fingers. Rinse the Hair Thoroughly if pong is very important. After the final wash- ing the hair and scalp should be rinsed in at least two changes of warm water and followed with a rinsing in cold water. When you have rinsed the hair thoroughly, wring it as dry as you can; and finish by rubbing it with a turkish towel, shaking it and fluffing it until it is dry. Then, give it a good brushing. After a Mulsified Shampoo you will find the hair will dry quickly and evenly and have the appearance of being much thicker and heavier than it is. :f you want your child to always be remem- bered for its beautiful, well-kept hair, make it a rule to set a certain day each week for a Mulsified Cocoanut Oil Shampoo. This regular weekly shampooing will keep the scalp soft and the hair fine and silky, bright, fresh looking and fluffy, wavy and easy to manage, and it will be noticed and admired by everyone. You can get Mulsified Cocoanut Oil Shampoo at any drug store or toilet goods counter. 4-ounce bottle should last for months. . October 9, 1920 Teach Your Boy to Shampoo His Hair Regularly T may be hard to get a boy to shampoo his hair regularly, but it’s mighty important that he does so. His hair and scalp should be kept perfectly clean to insure a healthy, vigorous scalp and a fine, thick, heavy head of hair. Get your boy in the habit of shampooing his hair regularly once each week. A _ boy’s hair being short, it will only take a few minutes’ time. Simply moisten the hair with warm water, pour on a little Mulsified and rub itvigorously with the tips of the fingers. This will stimulate the scalp, make an abund- ¥ anceofrich,creamylather and cleanse the hair thor- oughly. It takes only a few seconds to rinse it all out when he is through. You will be surprised how this regular weekly shampooing with Mulsi- fied will improve the ap- pearance of his hair, and you will be teaching your boy a habit he will appre- ciate in after life, for ‘a luxuriant head of hair is something every man feels mighty proud of. \ WATKINS ™ MULSIFIED REG Vv S&S PAT OFF COCOANUT OIL SHAMPOO . eA” —— MULGrTip = COCOANLT OIL, SHAMPOO — a —. ea as Ee —- i lt eS

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(Continued from Page 82) stand the shackles of office work, routine, sameness day in and day out? He was re- turning to the States without the least idea what he wanted to do; that was the dis- turbing phase of it. rn only he were keen for something! A typical son of the rich man. The only point in his favor was that he had not spent his allowances up and down Broadway. No, he would never touch a dollar of that money. That was final. What lay back of this sudden desire to make good in the world? Love! There wasn’t the slightest use in lying to himself. He wanted Jane Norman with all the blood in his body, with all the marrow in his bones; and he had nothing to offer her but empty hands. He shot a glance toward the bridge. And because he had no right to speak—obli- gated to silence by two reasons—that easy- speaking scoundrel might trap her fancy. It could not be denied that he was hand- some, but he was nevertheless a rogue. The two reasons why he must not speak were potent. In the first place, he had nothing to offer; in the second place, the terror she was no doubt hiding bravely would serve only to confuse her—that is, she might confuse a natural desire for protection with something deeper and tenderer, and then discover her mistake when it was too late. What was she going to ask of his father when the time came for reparation? That puzzled him. He made the rounds steadily for an hour, and during this time Jane frequently looked over the top of the manuscript she was reading aloud. At length she laid the manuscript upon her knees. “Mr. Cleigh, what is it that makes art treasures so priceless?’’ “Generally the depth of the buyer’s purse. That is what they say of me in the great auction rooms.” “But you don’t buy them just because you are rich enough to outbid somebody else?” “No, I am actually fond of all the treas- ures I possess. Aside from this, it is the most fascinating game there is. The origi- nal! A painting that Holbein laid his own brushes on, mixed his own paint for! I have then something of the man, tangible, visible; something of his beautiful dreams, his poverty, his success. There before me is the authentic labor of his hand, which was guided by the genius of his brain—before machinery spoiled mankind. Oh, yes, machinery has made me rich! It has given the proletariat the privilege of wearing yellow diamonds and riding about in fliv- vers. That must be admitted. But to have lived in those days when ambition thought only in beauty! To have been the boon companions of men like Da Vinci, Cellini, Michelangelo! Then there are the adven- tures of this concrete dream of the artist. I can trace it back to the bare studio in which it was conceived, follow its journeys, its abiding places, down to the hour it comes to me.” Jane stared at him astonishedly. All that had been crampedly hidden in his soul flowed into his face, warming and mellow- ing it, even beautifying it. Cleigh went on: ““Where will it go when I have done my little span? What new adventures lie in store for it? Across the Ponte Vecchio in Florence runs a gallery of portraits; at the south end of this gallery there is or was a corner given over to a copyist. He strikes you dumb with the cleverness of his work, but he has only an eye and a hand—he hasn’t a soul. A copy is to the original what a dummy is to a live man, no matter how amazingly well done the copy is. The original, the dream; nothing else satisfies the true collector.” “T didn’t know,” said Jane, had so much romance in you.’ “Romance?” It was almost a bark. “Why, certainly. No human being could love beauty the way you do and not be romantic.” f “Romantic!” Cleigh leaned back in his chair. “‘That’s a new point of view for Tungsten Cleigh. That’s what my enemies call me—the hardest metal on earth. Ro- mantic!” He chuckled. “To hear a woman call me romantic!” “It does not follow that to be romantic one must be sentimental. Romance is something heroic, imaginative, big; it isn’t a young man and a girl spooning on a park bench. I myself am romantic, but nobody could possibly call me sentimental.” “No? ” “that you ei hy, if I knew that we’d come through this without anybody getting hurt I’d be gloriously happy. All my life I’ve been cooped up. For a little while to be free! But I don’t like that.” She indicated Dodge, who sat in Denni- son’s chair, his head bandaged, his arm in a sling, thousands of miles from his native lains, at odds with his environment. His ean brown j jaws were set and the pupils of his blue eyes were mere pin points. During the discussion of art, during the reading, he had not stirred. “You mean,” said Cleigh gravely, “that Dodge may be only the beginning?’ “Yes. Your—Captain Dennison had an encounter with the man Flint before you came up. He is very strong and—and a bit intolerant.” “Ah!” Cleigh rubbed his jaw and “He was always Did he kill the smiled ruminatively. rather handy with his fists. ONO held him at arm’s length and threatened to kill him. I’m afraid Flint will not accept the situation with good grace.’ “Flint? I never liked that rogue’s face.” “He has found liquor somewhere, and I saw murder in his eyes. Denny isn’t afraid, and that’s why I am—afraid he'll run amuck uselessly. His very strength will react against him.” “T was like that thirty years ago.” So she called him Denny? Cleigh laid his hand over hers. “Keep your chin up. There’s a revolver handy should we need it. I dare not carry it for fear Cunningham — discover and confiscate it. Six bul- ets.” “‘And if worse comes to worse, will—will ou save one for me? Please don’t let enny do it! You are old, and if you lived after it wouldn't be in your thoughts so long as it would be in his—if he killed me. Will you promise?”’ “Yes—if worse comes to worse, Will you forgive me?”’ “TI do. But still I’m going to hold you to your word.” “T’ll pay the score, whatever it is. Now suppose you come below with me and take a look at the paintings? You haven’t seen my cabin yet.” What was this unusual young woman going to ask of him? He wondered. The more he thought over it the more convinced he was that she had assisted in the abduc- tion. xvi FTER they had gone below Dennison dropped into Jane’s chair. Imme- diately Dodge began to talk: “So you nearly throttled that ornery coyote, huh? Whata you know about this round-up? The three o’ ’em came in, and I never smelt nothin’ until they were on top o’ me, How should I smell anythin’? Hobnob- bing together for days, how was I to know they were a bunch of pirates? Is your old man sore?”’ “Naturally. ”’ “‘T mean appertainin’ to me?”’ “T don’t see how he could be. care of you—bound you up? “That nice-lookin’ greaser with the slue foot. Soft speakin’ like a woman and an eye like a timber wolf. Some hombre! Where we bound for?” “‘God knows!’’—dejectedly. Pe ay as that, huh? Your girl?”’ oe — “No place for a girl. If they hadn’t busted my arm I wouldn’t care so much! If it comes to a show-down I won’t be no good to anybody. Gimme my guns and we'd be headin’ home in five minutes. These hombres know somethin’ o’ my gun play. Gee, it’s lonesome here!” Dodge mused for a moment, “Say, what’s your cld man’s idea hog-tyin’ you that-a-way?”’ “‘He’l! tell you perhaps.” “Uh-huh. Say, what did the Lord make all that stuff for?” with a gesture toward the brazen sea. ‘‘What’s it good for any- how?’ “But for the sea we wouldn’t have any oysters or codfish,”’ said Dennison soberly. Dodge chuckled. “Oysters and codfish! Say, you’re all right! Never knew the old man had a son until you blew in. Back in New York nobody ever said nothin’ about you. Where you been?” “Lots of places.” “ Any ridin’?” “Some.” “Can you shoot?” “A little.” “Kill any o’ them Bolsheviks?” “That would be guesswork. ever kill a man?” Who took Did you THE SATURDAY EVENING POST “Nope. Didn't have to. “—° knew it and didn’t bother me.’ see.” “‘Shootin’ these days is all in the movies, I was ridin’ for a film company when yout old man lassoed me for this job. Never know er re well off—huh? Ithought | there wouldn’t be nothin’ to do but grub pile three times a day and the old man’s cheroots in between. And here I be now, ridin’ along with a bunch of pirates! Whata you know about that? And some of them nice boys too. If they were riff- raff, barroom bums, I could get a line on it. But I'll have to pass the buck.” “You haven’t got an extra gun any- where, have you?”’ “We'd be headin’ east if I had’’—grimly. “I'd have pared down the odds this morn- in’. That hombre with the hop-a-long didn’t leave me a quill toothpick. Was you ~~ of startin’ somethin’?”’—hope- ully “No, but I'd feel more comfortable if | Miss Norman could carry a gun.” “Uh-huh. Say, she’s all right. No hys- terics. Ain’t many of ’em that wouldn’t ’a’ been snivelin’ all day and night in her bunk. Been listenin’ to her readin’. Gee, you’d think we were floatin’ round this codfish lake just for the fun of it! She won’t run to cover if a bust-up comes. None whatever! And I bet she can cook too. Them kind can always cook.”’ Conversation lapsed. Below, Jane was passing through an un- usual experience. Said Cleigh at the start: “I’m going to show you the paintings—there are fourteen in all. I will tell you the history of each. And above all, p ease bear in mind the price of each picture.” “T'll remember.” But she thought the request an odd one, coming from the man as she knew him. Most of the treasures were in his own spacious cabin. corner—a Meissonier on one side and a De- taille on the other. In astationary cabinet there were a pair of stirrups, a riding crop, a book on artillery tactics, a pair of s p etm beaded with seed pearls and a buckle studded with sapphires. ““What are those?’”’ she asked, attracted. “They belonged to the Emperor and his first Empress.” “Napoleon?” “The Corsican. Next to the masters, I’ve a passion for things genuinely Napo- leonic. The hussar is by Meissonier and the skirmish by Detaille.”’ ““How much is this corner worth?” “T can’t say, except that I would not part with those objects for a hundred thou- sand; and there are friends of mine who would pay half that sum for them—behind my back. This is a Da Vinci.” Half an hour passed. Jane honestly tried to be thrilled by the splendor of the names she heard, but her eye was always traveling back toward the slippers and the buckle. The Empress Josephine! Romance and gallantry in the old, old days! ‘The painting in your cabin is by Hol- bein. It cost me sixteen thousand. Now let us go out and look at the rug. That is the apple of my eye. It is the second finest example of the animal rug in the world. A sheet of pure gold, half an inch thick, cov- ering the rug from end to end, would not equal its worth.” Jane admired the rug, but she would have preferred the gold. Her sense of the beautiful was alive, but there was always in her mind the genteel poverty of the past. She was beginning to understand. To go in quest of the beautiful required an unlimited purse and an endless leisure; and she would oe never the one nor the other, let alone both. “How much gold would that be?” she —— naively. Nearly eighty thousand. Have you ke spt in mind the sums I have given you?” ves. Let me see—good heavens, a quarter of a million! But why do you carry them about like this?” ‘Because I’m something of a rogue my- self. I could not enjoy the rug and the | paintings except on board. The French, the Italian and the Spanish governments could confiscate every solitary painting ex- | cept the Meissonier and the Detaille, for the simple reason that they were stolen. did not steal them myself; I merely pur- chased them with one eye shut. If I hadn’t bought them they would have gone to some other collector. Do you get a glimmer of the truth now?” I’m pretty | good on the draw, and where I come from | There was a Napoleonic | Oh, I |

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EVENING POST “The truth?” —perplexedly. “Yes—where Cunningham will get his pearls?" ” bitterly. “And 1 could not touch him. A quarter of a million! And with his knowledge of the secret marts he could easily dispose of them. Worth a bold stroke, eh?” “But how will he get them off the yacht— transship them?” Her faith in Cunningham began to waver. A quarter ofamillion! The thought was as bells in her ears. “Of the outside issues I have no inkling. But I have shown you his pearls.” “But the crew! Certainly they will not And why should he lie to me? There is no reason in the world why he shouldn’t have told me, if he had committed piracy to obtain your paintings. And he was poring over maps.” ‘Some tramp is probably going to pick him up. He’s ordered us away from the Cunningham must have his joke, | so he is beguiling you with twaddle about | hunting pearls. He is robbing me of my treasures, and I can’t strike back on that count. But I can land him in prison on the count of piracy; and by the Lord Harry, I'll do it if it takes my last dollar! He'll rue this adventure, or they call me Tung- | Sten for nothing!’ “IT wanted so to believe in him!” “Not difficult to understand why. He has a silver tongue and a face like John the Baptist —del Sarto’s—and you are roman- tic. The picture of him has enlisted your spe oe sp You are filled with pity that he should be so richly endowed, facially and mentally, and to be a cripple such as chil- dren laugh over. “Have you never considered what men- tal anguish must be the portion of a man whose body is twisted as his is? I know. So I pity him profoundly, even if he is a rogue. That’s all I was born for—to pity and to bind up. And I pity you, Mr. Cleigh, you who have walled your heart in granite. ‘You're plain-spoken, young lady. “Yes, certain sick minds need plain speaking.” “Then my mind is sick?”’ ae es Lad “And only a little while gone it was ro- mantic!” “Two hundred million hands begging for | bread, and you crossing the world for a string of glass beads whose value is only sentimental!’ “T can’t let that pass, Miss Norman. I | have trusted lieutenants who attend to my charities. I'm not a miser.’ “You are, with the greatest thing in the world—human love.” “Shall a man give it where it is not wanted? But enough of this talk. I have show n you ¢ “unningham’ s pearls.” “ Perhaps.” Night and wheeling stars. It was stuffy in the crew’s quarters. Half naked, the men lolled about, some in their bunks, some on the floor. The orders were that none should sleep on deck during the voyage to the Catwick “All because the old man brings a skirt on board, we have to sweat blood in the forepeak!"’ growled Flint. “We've got a | right to a little sport. | countenance. ‘Sure we have!” The speaker was sitting on the edge of his bunk. He was a fine specimen of young manhood, with a pleasant, rollicking Irish He looked as if he had been | brought up clean and had carried his clean- | claimed him a deep-sea man. | the Spanish Main? liness into the world. The blue anchor and love birds on his formidable forearms pro- It was he wko had given Dennison the shirt and the ducks. “Sure, we have a right to a little sport! But why call in the undertaker to help us out? You poor fish, all the way from San Francisco you've been grousing because shore leaves weren't long enough for you to get prime soused in. What’s two months in our young lives?” “I’ve always been free to do as I liked.” “You look it! I'll say so! The chief laid down the rules of this game, and we all took oath to follow those rules. The trouble with you is, you’ve been reading dime nov- els. Where do you think you are—raiding There’s every chance | of our coming out top hole, as those lime- juicers say, whole skin.’ “Say, ont I know this Sulu game? I tell you, if he does find his atoll there won’t _ with oodles of dough and a October 9,1920 be any shell. Not a chance in a hundred! Somebody’s been giving him a song and dance. As I get the dope, some pearl- hunting friend of his croaks and leaves him this chart. Old stuff! I bet a million boobs have croaked trying to locate the red cross on a chart.” “Why the devil did you sign, on then? “T wanted a little fun, and I’m going to have it. There’s champagne and Napoleon brandy in the dry stores. Wouldn’ t hurt us to have a little of it. If we’ ve got to go to jail we might as well go lit up.” “Flint, you talk too much,” said a voice from the doorway. It was Cunningham’ s. He leaned carelessly against the jamb. The crew fell silent and motionless. ‘ Boys, you’ve heard Hennessy. Play it my way and you'll wear diamonds; mess it up and you'll all wear hemp. The world will for- give us when it finds out we’ve only made it laugh.” Cunningham strolled over to Flint, who rose to his feet. “Flint, I want that crimp-house whisky you've been swig- ging on the sly. No back talk! Hand it Ov er! “And if I don’t?” said Flint, his jaw jutting. 9” xvir UNNINGHAM did not answer imme- diately. From Flint his glance went roving from man to man, as if trying to read what they expected of him. “Flint, you were recommended to me for your knowledge of the Sulu lingo. We'll need a crew of divers, and we'll have to pick them up secretly.. That’s your job. It’s your only job outside doing your watch with the shovel below. Somehow you've got the wrong idea. You think this is a junket of the oil-lamp period. All wrong! You don’t know me, and that’s a pity; be- cause if you did know something about me you’d walk carefully. When we're off this yacht, I don’t say. If you want what old- timers used to call their pannikin of rum you'll be welcome to it. But on board the Wanderer, nothing doing. Get your duffel out. I'll have a look at it.” ‘Get it yourself,” said Flint. Cunningham appeared small and boyish beside the ex-beach comber. “I’m speaking to you dec ently, Flint, when I ought to bash in your head.” The tone was gentle and level. *“Why don’t you try it?” The expectant men thereupon witnessed a feat that was not only deadly in its pre- cision but oddly grotesque. Cunningham's right hand flew out with the sinister quick- ness of a cobra’s strike, and he had Flint’s brawny wrist in grip. He danced about, twisted and lurched until he came to an abrupt stop behind Flint’s back. Flint’s mouth began to bend at the corners—a grimace. “You'll break it yourself, Flint, if you move another inch,” said Cunningham non- chalantly. ‘‘This is the gentlest trick I have in the bag. Cut out the booze until we're off this yacht. Be a good sport and play the game according to contract. Idon’t like these side shows. But you wanted me to show you. Want to call it off?” Sweat began to bead Flint’s forehead. He was straining every muscle in his body to minimize that inexorable turning of his elbow and shoulder. “The stuff is in Number Two bunker,” he said with a ghastly grin. “I'll chuck it over. “There now!’’ Cunningham stepped back. “‘T might have made it your neck. But I’m patient, because I want this part of the game to go through according to schedule. When I turn back this yacht I want noth- ing missing but the meals I've had.” Flint rubbed his arm, scowling, and walked over to his bunk. “Boys,” said Cunningham, “so far you've been bricks. Shortly we'll be head- ing southeast on our own. Wherever I am known, men will tell you that I never break my word. I promised you that we'd come through with clean heels. Something has happened which we could not forestall. There is a woman on board. It is not neces- sary to say that she is under my protection.” He clumped out into the passage. “Well, say!’’ burst out the young sailor named Hennessy. “I’m a tough guy, but I couldn’t have turned that trick. Hey, you! If you’ve got any hooch in the coal bunkers, heave it over. I’m telling you! These soft-spoken guys are the kind I lay off, believe you me! I’ve seen all kinds and know.’ “Did they kick you out of the Navy?” snarled Flint. (Continued on Page 88)

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(Centinued from Page 86) “Say, are you asking me to do it?” flared the Irishman. “You poor boob, you'd be in the sick bay if there hadn't been a lady on board.” “A lady?” “T said a lady! Stand up, you seut!” But Flint rolled into his bunk and turned his face to the partition. Cunningham leaned against the port rail. These bursts of fury always left him de- pressed. He was not a fighting man at all, and fate was always flinging him into physi- cal contests. He might have killed the fool; he had been in a killing mood. He was tired. Somehow the punch was gone from the affair, the thrill. Why should that be? For years he had been planning some- thing like this, and then to have it taste like stale wine! Vaguely he knew that he had made a discovery. The girl! If he were poring over his chart, his glance would drift away; if he were reading, the printed page had a peculiar way of vanishing. Of course it was all nonsense. But that night in Shanghai something had drawn him irre- sistibly to young Cleigh’s table. It might have been the color of her hair. At any rate, he hadn't noticed the beads until he had spoken to Cleigh, Glass beads! Queertwist. A little trinket, worthless except for sentimental reasons, throwing these lives together. Of course an oil would have lured the elder Cleigh across the Pacific quite as successfully. The old chap had been particularly keen for a sea voyage after having been cooped up for four years. But in the event of baiting the trap with a painting neither the girl nor the son would have been on board. And Flint could have had his noggin without any- body disturbing him, even if the contract read otherwise. Law-abiding pirates! How the world would chuckle if the yarn ever reached the newspapers! He had Cleigh in the hollow of his hand. In fancy he saw Cleigh placing his grievance with the British Admiralty. He could imagine the conversation too. “They returned the yacht in perfect con- dition?” “yen.” “Did they steal anything?” Cunningham could positively see Cleigh’s jowls redden as he shook his head to the query. “Sorry. You can't expect us to waste coal hunting for a scoundrel who only bor- rowed your yacht.” But what was the row between Cleigh and his son? That was a puzzler. Nota word! They ignored each other absolutely. These dinners were queer games, to be sure. All three men spoke to the girl, but neither of the Cleighs spoke to him or to each other. A string of glass beads! What about himself? What had caused his exuberance to die away, his enthusiasm to grow dim? Why, a month gone he would burst into such gales of laughter that his eyes would fill with tears at the thought of this hour! And the wine tasted flat. The reatest sea joke of the age, and he couldn't 0il up over it any more! Love? He had burnt himself out long ago. But had it been love? Rather had it not been a series of false dawns? To a weepy-waily woman he would have offered the same courtesies, but she would not have drawn his thoughts in any manner. And this one kept entering his thoughts at all times. That would be a joke, wouldn't it? At this day to feel the scorch of genu- ine passion! To dig a pit for Cleigh and to stumble into another himself! In setting this petard he hadn't got out of range quickly enough. His sense of humor was so keen that he laughed aloud, with a gesture which invited the gods to join him. Jane, who had been watching the solitary figure from the corner of the deck house and wondering who it was, recognized the voice. The cabin had been stuffy, her own mental confusion had driven sleep away, so she had stolen on deck for the purpose of viewing the splendors of the Oriental night. The stars that seemed so near, so soft; the sea that tossed their reflections hither and yon, or spun a star magically into a silver thread and immediately rolled it up again; the brilliant electric blue of the phosphor- escence and the flash of flying fish or a porpoise that ought to have been home and in bed. She hesitated. She was puzzled. She was not afraid of him—the puzzle lay some- where else. She was a little afraid of her- self. She was afraid of anything that THE SATURDAY could not immediately be translated into ordinary terms of expression. The man frankly wakened her pity. He seemed as lonely as the sea itself. Slue-Foot! And somewhere a woman had laughed at him. Perhaps that had changed everything, made him what he was. She wondered if she would ever be able to return to the shell out of which the ironic humor of chance had thrust her. Wondered if she could pick up again philo- sophically the threads of dull routine Jane Norman, gliding over this mysterious southern sea, a lone woman among strong and reckless men! Piracy! Pearls! Rugs and paintings worth a quarter of a million! Romance! Did she want it to last? Did she want romance all the rest of her days? What was this thing within her that was striving for expression? For-what was she hunting? What worried her and put fear into her heart was the knowledge that she did not know what she wanted. From all direc- tions came questions she could not answer. Was she in love? If so, where was the fire that should attend? Was it Denny or yonder riddle? She felt contented with Denny, but Cunningham’s presence seemed to tear into unexplored corners of her heart and brain. If she were in love with Denny, why didn’t she thrill when he approached? There was only a sense of security, con- tentment. The idea of racing round the world ro- mantically with Denny struck her as ab- surd. Equally contrary to reason was the picture of herself and Cunningham sitting before a wood fire. What was the matter with Jane Norman? There was one bar of light piercing the fog. She knew now why she had permitted Cleigh to abduct her. To bring about a reconciliation between father and son. And apparently there was as much chance as of east meeting west. She walked over to the rail and joined Cunningham. ou?” he said ‘The cabin was stuffy. I couldn't sleep.” “T wonder.” “About what?” “If there isn’t a wild streak in you that corresponds with mine. You fall into the picture naturally— curious and unafraid.” “Why should I be afraid, and why shouldn't I be curious?” “The greatest honor a woman ever paid me. I mean that you shouldn't be afraid of me when everything should warn you to give me plenty of sea room.” ‘I know more about men than I do about women “And I know too much about both.” EVENING POST ‘There have been other women—be- sides the one who laughed?” “Yes. Perhaps I was cruel enough to make them pay for that. “* Funny an’ yellow an’ faithful— Doll in a teacup she were, But we lived on the square, like a true- married pair, An’ I learned about women from ’er!’ ““But I wonder what would have hap- pened if it had been a woman like you in- stead of the one who laughed.” “‘T shouldn’t have laughed.” ‘This confounded face of mine!” “You mustn’t say that! Why not try to make over your sou! to match it?” “*How is that done?” The irony was so gentle that she fell silent for a space. “Are you going to take Mr. Cleigh’s paintings when you leave us?” ‘My dear young lady, all I have left to be proud of is my word. I give it to you that I am going after pearls. It may sound crazy, but I can’t help that. I am realizing adream. I’m something of a fatalist—I’ve had to be. I’ve always reasoned that if I could make the dream come true—this dream of pearls—I’d have a chance to turn over a new leaf. I’ve had to commit acts at times that were against my nature, my instincts. I’ve had to be cruel and terrible, because men would not believe a pretty man could be a strong one. Do you under- stand? I have been forced to cruel deeds because men would not credit a man’s heart behind a woman’s face. I possess tremendous nervous energy. That’s the principal curse. I can’t sit still; I can’t re- main long anywhere; I must go, £0, go! L ike the Wandering Jew, Ishmael.’ “Do you know what Ishmael means? “No. What?” ““*God heareth.’ Him for anything?” “No. Why should I, since He gave me this withered leg? Please don’t preach to me.” “T won't then. But I'm terribly sorry.” “Of course you are. But—don’t become too sorry. I might want to carry you off to my atoll.” “If you took me away with you by force I'd hate you, and you'd hate yourself. But you won't do anything like that.” ‘What makes you believe so?” “T don’t know why, but I do believe it.” “To be trusted by a woman, a good woman! I'll tell that to the stars. Tell me about yourself —what you did and how you lived before you came this side.” {t was not a long story, and he nodded from time to time understandingly. Gen- teel poverty, a life of scrimp and pare—the or, Have you ever asked Bermuda October 9,1920 cage. Romance—a flash of it—and she would return to the old life quite satisfied. Peace, a stormy interlude; then peace again indefinitely. It came to him that he wanted the respect of this young woman for always. But the malice that was ever bubbling up to his tongue and finding speec h awoke. ‘Suppose I find my pearls—and then come back for you? Romance and adven- ture! These warm stars always above us at night; the brilliant days; the voyages from isle to isle; palms and gay parrakeets, co- conuts and mangosteens—and let the world go hang!” She did not reply, but she moved a little away. He waited for a minute, then laughed softly. “My dear young lady, this is the inter- lude you've always been longing for. Fate has popped you out of the normal for a few days, and presently she’ll pop you back into it. Some day you'll marry and have children; you'll sink into the rut of monot- ony again and not be conscious of it. On winter nights, before the fire, when the children have been put to bed, your man buried behind his evening paper, you will recall Slue-Foot and the interlude and be happy over it. You'll hug and cuddle it to your heart secretly. A poignant craving in your life had been satisfied. Kidnaped by pirates, under Oriental stars! Fifteen men on a dead man’s chest—yo-ho, and a bottle of rum! A glorious adventure, with three meals the day and grand opera on the phonograph. Shades of Gilbert and Sulli- van! And you will always be wondering whether the pirate made love to you in jest or in earnest—and he'll always be wonder- ing too!” Cunningham turned away abruptly and clumped toward the bridge ladder, which he mounted. For some inexplicable reason her heart became filled with wild resentment against him. Mocking her, when she had only offered him kindness! She clung to the idea of mockery because it was the only tan- gible thing she could pluck from her con- fusion. Thus when she began the descent of the companionway and ran into Denni- son coming up her mood was not receptive to reproaches. ““Where have you been?”’ he demanded. “Watching the stars and the phosphor- escence. I could not sleep.” “Alone?” “No, Mr. Cunningham was with me.” “T warned you to keep away from that scoundrel! “How dare you use that tone to me? Have you any right to tell me what I shall and shall not do?” she stormed at him. “I've got to talk to someone. You go about in one perpetual gloom. I purpose to see and talk to Cunningham as often as I please. At least he amuses me.” With this she rushed past him and on to her cabin, the door of which she closed with such emphasis that it was heard all over the yacht—so sharp was the report that both Cleigh and Dodge awoke and sat up, half convinced that they had heard a pistol shot! Jane sat down on her bed, still furious. After a while she was able to understand something of this fury. The world was up- side down, wrong end to. Dennison, not Cunningham, should have acted the debo- nair, the nonchalant. Before this adventure began he had been witty, amusing, com- panionable; now he was as interesting as a bump on a log. At table he was only a poor counterfeit of his father, whose silence was maintained admirably, at all times ron nhiay | dignified. Whereas at each encounter Dennison played directly into Cunningkam’s hands,'and the latter was too much the banterer not to make the most of these episodes. What if he was worried? Hadn’t she more cause to worry than anyone else? For all that, she did not purpose to hide behind the barricaded door of her cabin. If there was a tragedy in the offing it would not fall less heavily because one approached it with melancholy countenance. Heaven knew that she was no infant as regarded men! In the six years of hospital work she had come into contact with all sorts and conditions of men. Cunningham might be the greatest scoundrel unhung, but so far as she was concerned she need have no fear. This knowledge was in- stinctive. But when her cheek touched the pillow she began to cry softly. She was so terribly lonely! (TO BE CONCLUDED)

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST October 9, 1920 rm o % 10,000 Miles around Philadelphia 27, Ss Miles Per 4 /, ’ . Gallon Gasoline s F : 616.4 Uaioe Ga TI 1 de Adee A th ' : 5 VERLAND Economy and Stamina have been recorded im many ways and under many conditions over a long period of time. New records continue to emphasize, even though they can- not increase, the Overland reputation. Recently a stock Overland established the remarkable new Transcontinental Economy Record of 27.2 miles per gallon ACROSS U. 27.2 Galion Gas 19.2 Miles per Ho Driven by 25 before sa over every kind of road in every variety of weather on the 3442 miles from New York to San Francisco. For 179 continuous hours night and day the car averaged 19.2 miles per hour in the hands of 25 different drivers who had never before seen this car! It was a dramatic demonstration of the astonishing ability of Overland under adverse conditions. As in every one of hundreds of other grueling tests— Willys-Overland Limited, Toronto, Canada WILLYS-OVERLAN D, Sedans, Coupés, Tou

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST October 9, 1920 —— Isn’t any game : that can trim P. A. and a pet pipe! | You’re playing all corners of the sporting range when you come across to a jimmy pipe that’s been tickled with a joy’us load of Prince Albert! Regular old he-game, this pal-partner- stuff—it sets you stepping such swell smoke stunts! Why—with P. A. and a jimmy you’ve got a mortgage on about 100 per cent. of the pipe smoke sunshine supply! Just clamps the dim- mers on a shock absorber when it comes to taking the “ough” out of the day’s rough sledding! And, you’ll say it does! : And, man, how you'll fuss a pipe that’s toned with Prince Albert! And, how you’ll blow f your bugle when you know that Prince Albert’s patented process cuts out bite and parch! Prince Albert awaits your say-so wher- Can you sit tight on smokes when the listen J ever tobacco is sold. Toppy red bags, F 3 ‘ tidy red tins, handsome pound and half of little old P. A. purrs pleasure into a pipe like , pound tin humidors—and--that clever, = practical pound crystal-glass humidor that—and with a supply around the corner with sponge moistener top that keeps ‘ , the tobacco in such perfect condition right ready to hand you a howdy-do? i PRINGE ALBERT R. J. Reynolds Tobacco Co. R. J. Revnolds Tobacco Co. the na tional joy smoke Winston-Salem, N. C. \

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a nS ee els nes upper tray. The one he handed Matsu was done in the stereotyped manner of the cheap gallery, but the face it showed was young and wistful. The little maid in the picture looked to be about sixteen. Her mouth was small and soft asa baby’s. A modest kimono was folded sweetly across her breast. “You have done well, Mr. Shimba!” exclaimed Matsu. “And the other picture, I suppose, is of yourself?” “Eh!” grunted Shimba, handing over the photograph he had been holding back. It was small wonder that Matsu puzzled a while over the hard-glazed surface which bore the imprint of the Rising Sun Photo Parlor. Could the perfect young Japanese in a dinner jacket and white dress tie be any kin to the hard-faced Shimba before him? A younger brother perhaps— the resemblance was un- mistakable. “A splendid portrait!” declared the polite Matsu. “A little fashionable per- haps,” admitted Shimba. “But this is like the one I sent the lady. The photog- rapher, who is a wise man, cautioned me that a bride- groom should appear es- pecially stylish when he has never met his bride and is forced to be absent from the ceremony. Therefore he was very artistic. From a photograph I had taken in youth he cut the head and joined it nicely to this American dress suit which he had in stock. It costs me twenty yen—very rea- sonable in these times. In this bargain he included a few touc hes to beautify my features.’ “*What lady could resist so beautiful a thing?”’ sighed Matsu. “And your honorable wife will arrive here soon?” ‘In about a month,” said Shimba. “The ceremony took place between our families in Kobe early in February—before the new law went into effect, you understand.” “T hope you will recog- nize her by this portrait,” said Matsu. ‘Sometimes they are older | than they wish to appear.’ “T will recognize her, grunted the farmer. “One would think she were coming to-day by all your preparations.” “Ah,” smiled Shimba, “it is to the city I am going to arrange some busi- ness and to buy bridal gar- ments for myself. It may be long before we have another day off. So it is that I am asking you to come and give advice.” Matsu was only too quick to take the hint and to dis- appear into the family bed- chamber beyond. F ifteen minutes later the males of the household sat at table arrayed in the best they had. Somewhat nervously they plied their chopsticks, scGoping rice from: bowl to mouth, dipping bits of fish in shoyu sauce, sipping clear yellow tea with that sibilant noise regarded as good form among the people of the sun. Mrs. Matsu fetched and carried from stove to table, having no place at the banquet of her lord. Shimba took occasion, when Matsu had gone to the garage for their jointly owned car, to reénter his bedroom stealthily. He closed the door behind him, went to his trunk and lifted the top tray. Out of one corner he took a paper packet and opened one end to see that the bank notes were undisturbed. Nine hundred dollars— prac- tically all that remained to him from last year’s profits after his gambling debts were paid, for Shimba’s prosperity had been handicapped by his love of gambling. This small bale of money represented a sacred pledge to him. Before a Buddhist bonze in the city he had sworn that he would gam- ble no more. He slipped the bills into his pocket, de- termined to visit the city and invest his money just as he had promised Mr. Aka- gashi he would do. vw R. MATSU drove his car with a certain brilliant technic in keeping with his handsome and adventurous personality, but the knotty little man beside him held his peace. Only his eyes were alive, wink- ing, winking in the broad sunlight. Shimba THE SATURDAY EVENING POST SEED OF THE SUN (Continued from Page 25) roof peak with an ornamental Eastern em- blem which an Oriental house painter, swinging aloft from block and tackle, was touching up with a coat of gilt. A motor truck had backed up against the door and from its tailboard a troupe of gigantic Amer- icans were hauling big crates marked with Japanese labels as well as the English ad- dress, ‘Oriental Buddhist Church, Bly, Cal.” “‘Honorably tell me, Osaki-san,” said Matsu politely, stopping his car beside a little old man in a red sweater, “has the altar arrived now? Once He Had Been on the Verge of Breaking the Bank, But the Ancient Gods of China Had Entered in to Do Battle With the Upstarts of Nippon was not a communicative man, even for a Japar.ese, and this morning he uttered not a word until Matsu had driven out of the orchard road and into the main street of Bly. “Stop at Sago-san’s general store,” he commanded rudely. Matsu, being used to his partner’s ways, merely nodded and guided his car carefully through the teeming street. It was Satur- day afternoon, and an off day on the fruit farms; therefore the yellow people had come thronging into the settlement to buy their = 2k’s supplies, to constlt the pastor of the Japanese church, to admire the for- eign comedy of Charlie Chaplin at the tiny motion-picture theater beyond the packing houge. The handsome new building, now near- ing completion on the lot just opposite the Methodist church, had attracted a crowd. Otherwise as severe in outline as a New England church, it was adorned at the “The honorable altar of Buddha, Matsu- san,”” replied the farmer, bowing and rais- ing his straw hat. ‘‘ Bought with the money so piously collected by Mrs. Shimba.” Shimba’s face was stony at this compli- ment for his divorced wife. “The temple will be opened with cere monies three weeks from to-morrow,” Osaki-san explained ‘And what does the Reverend Professor Awaga think?” grinned Matsu **Ah"’—Mr. Osaki never smiled—‘ what will all the people say when they see this remarkable shrine entirely covered with golden prayers? It cost six thousand yen in the best factory in Tokio.” Matsu looked slyly across the street toward the small, shabby Methodist church. On the doorstep a tiny man in a frock coat stood bleakly watching. The Reverend Professor Awaga had indeed rea- sons for alarm. Shimba left Matsu in the car and entered the general store. The enterprising head clerk was much in evidence, but Shimba suspected that Mr. Akagashi, the druggist, would be conferring in the office where he most often repaired for privacy. It was a busy afternoon. Behind every counter yellow boys were climbing ladders from shelf to shelf to bring down fa- vorite brands of canned clams or bamboo sprouts. There were children everywhere, playing peep-bo behind rice sacks, sucking taffy in parental arms, peering sharp eyed round every angle of the establishment. James Furioki, only son of S. Furioki, the local barber, had just purchased a kite out of the store’s large supply. It was a demonia- kite with a ferociously painted face. It carried a fan, and across the fan were printed three bold Japanese characters. “Mr. Akagashi is here, but very busy now,” re- ported the head clerk, emerging from the rear wit h a can of kerosene. Shimba, quite undis- couraged, passed through the jumble until he arrived at the dim recess where the important druggist sat crouched over a desk, another head close to his. A modish young Japanese, whose pin-check suit, light- topped shoes and burnt- orange tie quite outshone anything else in Bly, leaned close to his side and talked rapidly in the language which, however spoken, is always beautiful Minejiro Akagashi, druggist, land speculator and local political boss, was a skinny little man with a drooping gray mus- tache and red-rimmed eyes which peered with scholarly minuteness through his gold-bowed spectacles. “Ah, how do you do, Shimba-san!” He rose and bobbed Shimba removed his hat and bobbed. The elegant young man, standing apart, shed benevolent smiles. “*Meet Mr. Oki, Mr. Shimba,” commanded the druggist in English. “Ah, Mr. Shimba!” cried the young worldling in the same language as he shook hands heart ih “‘How are you do?’ asked Shimba, struggling with his words. “You are on the Bly tract, are you not?” in quired the elegant one. ‘Yes, sair. I take job of share-it with that lady.” “Oki-san is the repre- sentative of our Society,” explained Akagashi, shifting to Japanese. “‘He repre sents us here at Blysince the departure of Mr. Nichi.” ‘Most honorable local secretary.” Shimba bowed again, and made a great hissing through his prominent teeth. The mention of the Society filled him with con- lence. Therefore he went fumbling into an inside pocket and brought forth a soiled ‘ nvelope. ‘Though I am an English scholar,” he explained defensively, am sometimes confused by their legal phrases. So I brought it to you, Akagashi-san, thinking that you would honorably deign—— Akagashi took the document in his nerv- ous little hands and spread it under the eyes of Mr. Oki. ‘Agreement,”” he mumbled, hurrying over the phrases, “share and share alike three years. Ah!” His moving finger paragraph. He pondered over this, then nodded sagely. ‘That is businesslike,” he concluded. “Party of the first part to supply all tools paused at a vital

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THE SATURDAY TIFEANY & CO, PEARLS JEWELRY SILVERWARE Prompt ATTENTION GIVEN To MAIL INQUIRIES FIETH AVENUE & 37 "STREET ARIS 25 RUE DE LA PAIX New York LonDON 221 REGENT STREET In “The Connoisseur” package shown above— Chocolate Covered Cream W alnuts Pineapple F ruit Cream, Apricots, Walnuts, Cherries and many other ¢ pieces. In gifts, it is the happy ability to choose that which will most surely please the recipient. “Good Taste” in candy is obtained b blending rich chocolate coatings wit delicious nut and créme centers—an art mastered to the fullest by only a few master-confectioners. Bryn Mawr Chocolates, within both meanings, are indeed good taste. Bryn Mawr Chocolates At retail stores, or send $2.25 direct. F. M. PAIST COMPANY » Dept. H, Philadelphia, Pa. be “The home of better . > confections” EVENING POST and implements, to make all necessary repairs.” He stopped again at a clause on the second page, while Mr. Oki’s head dropped lower and lower toward the document. “This, I think, is very good,” he de- clared. “Agreement to be null and void in case of disposal of property.” “Would this not leave me high and dry, Most Honorable?” asked the farmer. “That is provided for also,” replied his adviser, but not entirely to Shimba’s satisfaction. “Who drew up this paper?” asked Mr. Oki, losing his pretty manners for the moment. “Some lawyer in Mr. office,”’ said Shimba. “H’m!” Again Oki’s sharp eyes analyzed the typewritten pages. “ You are protected, I see, in case of sale.” Then he folded the paper, looked at the typewritten words on® the cover and handed it back to Shimba. “Very water-tight, I say so!” he pro- nounced in English. “I thought, Shimba-san,” said Mr. Akagashi, looking rather severely through his spectacles, “that you were intending to invest your money in the Natural Energy Fruit and Land Company.” “I—I am on my way to buy,” tempo- rized Shimba. “*Remember this is important. The time will soon be over for stock companies if the state legislature has its way. Shimba-san, how much money will you invest in stock?” “T am rather hard up, Akagashi-san. I have a matter of nine hundred dollars.” “Been gambling again, I see.” The eyes behind the glasses became hard as lacquer. “T have promised a good bonze that I would sin no more. I am now on my way to buy.” “Saturday is a very poor afternoon,” Mr. Akagashi reminded him sharply. “You will probably find the offices closed.” Shimba had no argument against this. “To tell you the truth,” he mumbled, “T had another errand. I have married a lady of Kobe, whom I am to meet for the first time upon her arrival next month.” Akagashi smiled his sparse smile. Ob- viously this pleased him, since he had strongly urged the farmer to get a woman who would honor the family with children. “Take care, Mr. Shimba,”’ the affable Mr. Oki cautioned with a worldly wink. “The imperial government will be very severe about these long-distance mar- riages.”’ “T have been careful,’”’ Shimba assured him. “But thank you, Mr. Oki. My family settled that affair last month before the law was made.” “You should be very happy then,” de- clared Mr. Oki, and Shimba was flattered at his interest. Mr. Akagashi merely grunted. He was too busy a man to bother with old-fashioned courtesies. Bowing stiffly to signal his Helmholtz’s | caller to be gone, he resumed work %n the | papers on his desk. Shimba lingereJ just an instant. He had wished to ask his | superior just what had been done about the fox woman’s reappearance in Bly. But Akagashi’s air was forbidding. Shimba | was bowing himself out of the store when he was aware that the handsome Mr. Oki was following him. “Ah, Mr. Shimba,” he was beseeching gracefully, “just one moment's advice. You spoke about buying clothes suitable to a bridegroom.” “Yes, that was my errand,” admitted Shimba. “Have you chosen a shop?” inquired the affable one casually. “There is the Long Wisdom Cash Store “Do not think of it, I entreat you. Mr. Semine, its proprietor, has been proven to be a very wicked man. Could I recommend an honest place?” “Honorably deign to do so,” asked Shimba, delighted at the distinguished attention. ‘Here is the card,”’ said Mr. Oki, suiting action to word. “‘The Bushido Depart- ment Store. There you will find all the fruits of honesty and justice. Moreover, the prices are quite reasonable.”’ “I was intending to see the Natural Products Company about investment,” Shimba faltered, when Mr. Oki cut in? “*Remember how Honorable Akagashi told you that their offices would be closed this afternoon. Forgive my humble sug- gestion, however.” October 9,1920 “You grace me with favors,” declared Shimba, “and I shall go at once for my suit of clothes.” Shimba bobbed. Mr. Oki bobbed. “Tam here to give my friends the boost whenever possible,” said the latter, proud of his American slang. ‘‘And I hope I can aid you to a square deal.” Along the levee road by the broad- bosomed river the little car whirled through the pleasant air of spring. Here the rich river, spreading into backwaters and bayous, swings sleepily round a hundred little islands, some sandy, some loamy, yet others surfaced deep with peat beds. This low-lying stretch of the delta is dyked like Holland. Cherry trees show their tender pink bloom; pear orchards stretch their acres of blossoming candelabra. Along the muddy waters small steam craft chug and churn. Down in the willow groves on the banks people of many nationalities live in stranded house boats, and along the roads enormous orange-colored motor busses, owned and operated by Japanese, roll rapidly along. Driving along the levee road one scarcely realizes the extent of the town. One row of Chinese shops peeps over the em- bankment. A joss house, too, is visible, marked out from its more worldly neigh- bors by its gaudy red-and-yellow porch, with a fringe of brilliant green running round the edge of a barrel-shaped roof. Under the porch are flyspecked windows, through which the wanderer may peer to behold a gilded shrine standing on an oilcloth-covered table. Bold Chinese char- acters over the door announce this to be the Eastern Hall of Learning. Like the Chinese themselves, this place is frankly pagan, having no pretensions to Occidental ways. The town, as Shimba and his compan- ion bumped noisily into it, was electric with business energy. The grass season was coming on with a rush. Tons of fresh as- paragus were being poured into the local packing house to be tied into inviting bun- dles by Chinese and Japanese labor and poured out again toward Eastern markets. Over on the islands carloads of long white spears traveled in an almost continuous stream toward the canneries. Without penetrating the American sec- tion, distinguished by Mr. Alec Brown's bank and Mr. Alec Brown's Tudor Hotel, the men from Bly plunged recklessly down from the levee road into the narrow, crooked streets and balconied lanes of the section miscalled Chinatown—miscalled because the Chinese sit aloof, an ever-shrinking minority. Japanese restaurants, Japanese cinema theaters, Japanese dry-goods, hard- ware, confectionery and grocery stores, Japanese bath houses, Japanese billiard parlors line the streets in every direction. Young blood seemed to sing in Shimba’s veins as he drove into the town. The place, somewhat toned down by police regulations in recent years, still charmed him with thoughts of sumptuous dissipa- tion. Had he not come to buy his wedding garments, in which he would soon make himself presentable to a lady whom he knew only by photograph? Was he not to be young again? And renewed by mar- riage, would he not find new luck? His gait became almost dapper as he swung through the tangled lanes in search of the well-recommended Bushido Depart- ment Store. The signs stimulated him precwee | like banners at a fair. The lotel-of-Two-Stories he recognized, and not far away the equally elegant Hotel- on-a-Wooden-Foundation. He had drunk saké at many places here and rejoiced in the days before the white man’s drought. On a shingle by a little wooden door he saw the advertisement of a learned anma who had once pricked his skin with a medicated needle—red-hot in that particular case—to cure him of rheumatism. There were many signs in kana—the popular shorthand of Japan, by which simple brush strokes express syllables. In many cases the sign painters had attempted to spell out English words. On the window of a soft-drink shop the compounded word “ah-u-su-ku-een” could be pronounced rapidly to sound ’a little like “‘ice cream.” Upon the same system “so-o-da” and “be-e-ru”’ could be tortured into “soda” and “ beer.’’ The more progressive establish- ments bore English signs, and two doors be- yond the announcement “ B. Honda, Shirt- Tailor’ appeared the fashionable lettered board of the Bushido Department Store. (Continued on Page 96)

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Faultless servants in count- less homes are Domestic Electric Motors. Rare 1s the day they do not shorten by their waiting willing- ness. Quickly and capably they accomplish their varied household tasks. They are built to serve; unfailingly they do it. THE DOMESTIC ELECTRIC CO., CLEVELAND, O. FACTORIES AT CLEVELAND, O., AND NORWALK, O.

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96 (Continued from Page 94) Superficially the place compared but poorly with some of the Japanese shops which Shimba had patronized in the city. But the Bushido was overpowering in its own way. A new wax dummy, feminine in sex, displayed a plaid skirt, ruffled waist and electric blue tam-o’-shanter, with the placard pinned daintily to her bosom, “‘ We Bargain All Goods." A wide sheet of paper which had been pasted in the window was lettered in Japanese with an announcement of a hundred items which the Bushido was willing to sell at less cost than elsewhere. The advertisement gave prominence to men's clothing, cut to the latest fashion among the rice country’s people. A neat, rather handsome young Japanese came forward to wait on Bushido’s new customers. He seemed to be an old ac- quaintance of Matsu’s, and was introduced to Shimba as Mr. Furo. “We came together on the same boat from Nippon,” explained Matsu. “That seems a em time ago, does it not, Furo- san?” “An age of ages,”’ replied Mr. Furo, and showed as much emotion as is allowable among a people schooled to show none. “And now shall I show you suits of clothes, Mr. Shimba, of very latest New York style?” While Mr. Furo was spreading out speci- mens of blue-jay blue, Highland plaid and tobacco brown + talked amiably on. “Things, I hear, are looking well in the region of Bly,” he volunteered. Shimba explained that things at Bly were so-so, Never an optimist, Shimba would not permit himself to be intrigued into bright predictions he rainfall was still several inches short of normal. Prunes seemed to be bud- ding fairly well. Of course the strawberry bed on the Bly tract was merely a minor investment. People shouldn't raise straw- berries on that land, which was not sandy like the Florin district. “Are the white agitators troubling our people there?” asked Mr. Furo, shaking out the blue-jay coat preparatory to a try-on. “A trifie,’” admitted Shimba. “The wind will always blow, you understand.” The parley over clothing was protracted into midafternoon. Shimba fancied the suit of tobacco brown, Matsu stuck to the Highland plaid, explaining that it slightly resembled Mr. Oki's style; but Furo was a partisan of blue-jay blue from the first. lhe fat Hiroshima man who owned Bush- ido was about to bring his own weight into the conference when a selection was finally made, blue jay having won. Its price was forty dollars—reasonable, as we will all agree, in a day like ours. When Mr. Furo was folding the purchase neatly into a pasteboard box he looked first at Shimba, then at the suit, and gave vent to something very like a sigh. “ When will you meet your wife, Shimba- san?” he asked. “Soon,” the farmer permitted himself to explain. “I am expecting word any time.” ‘I, too, am expecting word,” said Mr. Furo, and the mask of Asia dropped suffi- ciently to show a look of expectancy. “Ah, then you, too, have been married?” “In February,” he smiled, and his ex- pga seemed to warm the whole estab- ishment. “I am impatient for her to come, you may believe.” “So?” Both Shimba and Matsu set their faces against this last remark. The man had almost confessed fondness for his wife—a serious breach of manly deportment among the Japanese. “Then you have in reality met the lady?” Matsu relented to ask. He himself had taken a picture bride and never regretted the bargain. “I have known her for a long time,”’ per- sisted the shameless Furo. “We played together as children—no need for photo- graphs to identify us, you see!" His beaming smile found no reflection in the faces before him. Matsu shuffled toward the door, as one intent upon avoid- ing an unseemly sight. Shimba reached for his bundle and clasped it under his arm. “We can send it to Bly for you, if you wish, Shimba-san,"’ declared the unmanly one, but the farmer was already moving toward the door. What degenerate days were these, thought Shimba. Furo must be mad. How else could he be shouting in public to tell all the world that he was in love with the woman he had married? THE SATURDAY The men from Bly went forth into the streets of Chinatown. Their atmosphere of dissipation again affected Shimba with a mild madness. This town had levied more than once upon Shimba’s resources. Matsu, always a better business man than Shimba, also loved his game, but he played it with caution, as he did all things. They strolled into the local pool parlor and found the tables already busy with the game which, in America, seems to have be- come the Japanese national sport. They found many friends in the room and were sitting enviously among the onlookers, when Mr. Tanosuke put in an ee He was as short as any man can be without becoming classed among dwarfs. But Tanosuke wore his brown derby at an angle aed at the race track, and there was a 10rseshoe of imitation diamonds in his necktie. No one looked over his hard, square head, for Mr. Tanosuke represented sophistication and contact with the world of sport. It came as a crushing compliment then when he waddled across to where Shimba and Matsu sat, and after greeting them in the voice of a friend suggested a game of Kelly pool. Tanosuke’s invitations were commands. Almost without requesting the favor he got himself a table ahead of the entire roomful. Shimba strove to conceal his pride as he chalked his cue and attempted the first shot with the eyes of all the room upon him. He waxed skillful with very litiie practice; indeed from the very be- ginning he seemed destined to pocket the | ball. “What a day for you, Shimba-san!” the great little man congratulated him as again the farmer shot at random and brought down the desired number. Shimba glowed, He never failed to ex- yand in the atmosphere of chance, and it ad been a long time since his last visit to town. The game lasted until well after sun- set. When the shadows of evening were cast over the levee and lights began to twinkle in the pool room Shimba was a dollar and eighty cents ahead of the game. Mr. Tano- suke pocketed his losses with the ease of a man who can win or lose and take it as a matter of course. Emboldened by his success, Shimba had the temerity to suggest that the great and worldly Mr. Tanosuke should dine with him at the restaurant round the corner. The great one was pleased, but exercised the prerogative of greatness when he insisted that he be host. Therefore they were inclosed together, the three of them, in a little room of the establishment whose drum-shaped white lantern bore the familiar rice sign. In the full light of the place the two farmers gazed bashfully at the striped silk collar and American manners of Mr. Tanosuke. He had a square face, a perfectly bald head and diamond rings on his smooth brown fingers. A dish-faced maiden, the skin of her soft, plump arms showing through her shoddy lace shirt waist, placed a tray be- fore each of Tanosuke’s guests and set thereon saucers of sliced raw fish, daintily cooked seaweed, thin soup which swam with vegetables cut in flower patterns, shoyu sauce, egg noodles and geometric squares of bean curd. But what next appensed caused Shimba’s eyes to glitter with a sportive light. Be- side each plate the dish-faced maiden had set a little cup, and into each she was pouring warmish yellow liquid from a long- nosed teapot. Saké! Mtr. Tanosuke grinned and, lifting his cup, pronounced in English what so many American drunkards have said be- fore, To Amendment Eighteen, gentle- men! With innumerable bowings and bobbings his guests drained their little cups. The warm rice wine brought quick visions to Shimba’s mind. A fat share of stock in the Natural Energy Fruit and Land Company, then another three years’ saving, and he, too, would drink saké every night and give fine dinners to his friends. Soon he would have a young wife and many children— mostly sons. Mr. Tanosuke had no sooner pulled his chopsticks from their paper envelope, split them apart and arranged them pincers fashion between the thumb and fingers of his right hand, than he reverted to Shimba’s darling weakness. “Some are born with a lucky day,” he said. “For me it is Wednesday. For you apparently it is Saturday. See how you made all the numbers at the Kelly game!” EVENING POST “Three times,” responded Shimba, saké having filled his cup again—‘“‘ three times I — the Number Three marble and won ry it.” “ For me the lucky number is two and two multiplied—provided I play on Wednes- day. Here’s to your luck, Shimba-san!”’ “TI have promised to gambie no more,” declared Shimba. “Tt is a bad habit,”’ agreed Mr. Tano- suke with a serious face. “It is a vice which I never encourage in my friends, and yet I have lost nothing by it.” He raised a bediamonded hand up to his square jaw, a silent gesture indicating prosperity. From somewhere in the distance there floated in a thin, teasing note. Some little reed instrument at the mouth of a Chinese musician was sending forth that tantalizing call. A gong sounded—bang, bang, bang! And then the elusive, silver thread of mel- ody floated above the low-lying streets. “Mr. Fong Duck, a Chinese, conducts a great business here,” declared Mr. Tano- suke, sipping daintily at his saké cup. “They are dogs, these Chinese,” re- sponded Shimba. “There is a choice, even among dogs,”’ said Tanosuke. “There is a saying, ‘Feed a dog three days and he will remember ou three years.’ And this Fong Duck is ess to be avoided than other Chinese. It is said to be a privilege to enter his estab- lishment.” Mr. Tanosuke shot his striped silk cuffs and sat up straight, presenting a picture of majesty in miniature. Again the thin note of music, poppy laden, suggestive, sinister, floated into the small, hot room. At the hour of ten Mr. Tanosuke and his guests walked cautiously down a darkened street under balconies from which dim lanterns swung. Shimba’s worldly guide was so short of stature that it was no trouble at all to look over the top of his brown derby. But Tanosuke was a man of will, and he took the party in hand without more ado. Distantly glared an_ electric-lighted front, with an entrance set like an open box facing the street. As they neared the spot Shimba could see on its white panels many bold Chinese characters which announced that here was installed the Brotherhood Mutual Recreation Club. High in a small door at one side appeared a grated window. An elderly Chinese slouched against one of the posts. His feet were crossed, his looks were far away as he puffed daintily at his long-stemmed tobacco pipe. Any- body but an Eastern tourist would have recognized him as a lookout and have known that behind his padded back there was an electric button and that the hand he held so gracefully concealed rested upon that button, acute to warn of approaching danger—to wit, the sheriff—at a fractional second’s notice. Mr. Tanosuke, leading his party, ap- proached the languid loiterer. “You sabe me?” he asked in pidgin. “TI sabe you,” responded the lookout with an unfriendly glare as he gazed down upon Mr. Tanosuke. “I no sabe those two man come by you.” “*My friend, you sabe. They like come see Fong Duck.” The lookout eyed them narrowly for an instant, then turned stoiidly and tapped his long nails upon the grated window. A panel slid back and a face appeared behind the bars. There were two short words in singsong, then the door was opened nar- rowly from behind. Tanosuke and his friends slid in through the crack. In the smoke-laden room upstairs several tables were clattering busily. A consump- tive Chinaman, his cheeks sunken, his eyes staring from his head, was throwing chuck- a-luck. A fat Chinaman presided at a roulette wheel. A group in the corner was playing faro. A yellow lad of eighteen sat cross-legged on a long bench, bare ankles showing above boat-shaped shoes as he dealt out Chinese dominoes. The fan-tan teble at another end of the room was the busiest of all. The men in the room were mostly Japanese, though there were a few Chinamen and_ several black-bearded, black-turbaned Sikhs gazing on the games with their mysterious eyes. Poor Shimba, as though drawn by invis- ible cords, was already roving toward the fan-tan table. “Remember how you swore to keep away,” his partner cautioned him. But Matsu himself was a little affected by saké and the heady atmosphere. October 9,1920 “After all, would it not be well to look on?” asked the little fellow who had brought them there. ‘Gambling is a curse to those whose hands have lost their grip.” “‘A fool mourns over a lost sen,”’ grunted Shimba. “You have said a wise thing,” agreed Mr. Tanosuke, tossing a silver dollar on the fan-tan table. “‘I would try just once. Nothing reckless. Saturday, you remem- ber, and the lucky three!” Shimba edged close to the table and leaned over the black oilcloth with the Chinese numerals one, two, three and four marked in gold at the sides. The dealer, confronted by a pile of buttons he had just spilled from the cup, was counting them off with his wand; four at a time they fell clattering into the box. He was a bald Chinaman with a green shade over his eyes, and his wand brushed away the but- tons with the skill of a magician. The black slant eyes round the table were focused, immovable as stone, on the play as the buttons fell away from the pile. The wand gave its final fateful sweep. Two buttons lay before the dealer. “Numba Two win!” he singsonged in pidgin as he swept away the silver and cur- rency from the three unlucky numbers and proceeded to pay the winner two to one. “Place yo’ bets, gel’men!” he challenged again as his cup went into the box for another load of buttons. Shimba’s work-worn hand stole slyly into his inner pocket, where he could feel the bale of paper money which he had not disturbed, even for his extravagances at the Bushido. Blindly his fingers clasped the first rough edge they came against. As he extracted his hand from his pocket a hundred-dollar note came with it. He thought for an instant of making change, but the madness was on him. He placed the bill on Number Three, while many pairs of sharp black eyes snapped round to eatch sight of this sporting millionaire. Again the wand went clicking buttons off into the box. The stuffy room, smelling vilely of ancient China, became a well of silence. Four, four, four—the mound of white buttons diminished to a tiny scatter- ing. Again the wand fell. Three buttons lay before the dealer! “Numba Thlee win!” singsonged the magician. Scarcely taking the trouble to look up, he counted out two hundred-dollar bills and handed them across to Shimba. “Place yo’ bets, gel’men!”’ he singsonged. Shimba laid three hundred-dollar bills on Number Three. Again the wand went clicking among the buttons. For some two hours Shimba stood in a golden trance. Luck had turned against him in midstream. Once he had been on the verge of breaking the bank—which stands at a thousand dollars—but the ancient gods of China had entered in to do battle with the upstarts of Nippon. His fortune blew up in an untidy crumple of hundred-dollar bills. He had doubled his losses once too often. Number Four won again. Then, remorse and hatred bitter in his heart, he had gone into his shabby pocket for his last hundred-dollar bill, when the expected happened in Chinatown. Into the tensely silent atmosphere a bell thrilled twice—a horrid sound. The sheriff warning from the lookout below! Then it was that the most backward of nations demonstrated efficiency. Working with the speed of fire laddies, the Chinese crew flew to their places. The roulette wheel was kicked behind a panel in the wall, the fan-tan cloth was jerked away with all its freight of wealth. Into a trap door in the reara corps of Chinese gamblers, bearing the guilty evidence, stole away with the rapidity of serpents. With equal speed a dozen of their confederates took ooo round a table and assumed theatri- cal poses expressive of innocence as they settled themselves to a friendly game of dominoes. The stage was set for the sheriff. In the midst of alarms Shimba found himself being pulled through a rear window by his capable partner, Matsu. Little Mr. anosuke had disappeared—down a drain pipe possibly. For the visitor from Bly there was a drop in the darkness. It wasn’t far, and poor Shimba, then in a suicidal mood, cared nothing for life or limb. At last, limping and unnerved, the refu- gees reached their little car as it lurked in the shadow of a dike. “Carry me away from this village of demons!”’ snarled Shimba. (Continued on Page 100)

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 7 os tee Ft? > rd ‘ Un-retouched photographs ng Goodyear ( f fires in truck trailer ser ¢ for Jackson S Higgins, Lumbermen, De Land, } IIL October 9,1920 ht 1920, by The Goodyear Tire & Rubber Co, ae =

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Increased Hauling on Pneumatics and Increased Production ‘** Our trucking on Goodyear Cord Tires means more output because of more volume hauled with the same number of hands—at less cost per mile. Teams can’t make our distances and we save time by using difficult sand trails. Further, the pneumatics save repairs, gasoline and oil. The Goodyear Cord Tires stand up well in hard day and night usage.’’— Carroll E. Jackson, Jackson & Higgins, Lumber, De Land, Florida J XTENSIVE and varied manufacturing experience indicates, as in this instance, the strategic aid to increased production afforded by motor trucks on Goodyear Cord Tires. A valuable result of the traction, cushioning and activity of these pneumatics often is noted in an appreciably larger volume of haul- ing done at a lower rate of cost. In the strength of their Goodyear Cord construction, developed with the manufacturing care that protects our good name, is the foundation of their entire serviceability. This vital strength is a product of years of pioneering, during which Goodyear has operated motor trucks on pneumatic tires and checked their performances under differing conditions. Such work also has assisted Goodyear’s production of pneumatic truck tire tubes, rims and repair materials and others’ production of engine air pumps, air gauges, wheels and vulcanizing equipment. Today all these factors in the successful use of Goodyear Cord Tires on trucks are conveniently available through the nation-wide system of Goodyear Truck Tire Service Stations. The actual records of many users of pneumatic truck tires can be obtained by writing to The Goodyear Tire & Rubber Company, Akron, Ohio, or Los Angeles, California.

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100 | THE SATURDAY (Continued from Page 96) Matsu at the wheel was doing his best, but the ancient self-starter, against which his heel was pressed, gave forth an empty inding noise, proclaiming a mechanical yreakdown. Round the corner the sheriff’s deep voice could be heard in tones of com- | mand. Footsteps sounded stealthily along the dirt-surfaced street just behind them. Shimba sat palsied. Out of the shadows a dwarfish figure ap- peared. With a frightened grunt Shimba threw open a side door and was about to scramble away into darkness and security when something about the haunting form arrested his flight. He looked again, and recognized the sportively cut clothes, the | flashing gems, the brown wry A It was Mr. on ae. who had already done so much of ill. “Ah, Mr. Shimba!” the apparition ex- claimed, bowing low. “And Mr. Matsu! You have escaped safely, I see. How sinful I have been to lead you into misfortune!” “Tanosuke-san, I speak but the truth,” replied Shimba, throwing himself upon the mercy of the kindly adviser. “This Fong Duck is a very grasping man. Had I given him time he would have taken my shirt “ Ah, how I feel it on my conscience that I did not rescue you from such a thief!” groaned Mr. Tanosuke, looking warily along the dimly lighted street. “‘But come! The shantaolis sheriff is still nosing about like an enchanted badger. Tell me, Shimba- san, did you not leave a bundle at the Sons of Yamato restaurant?” “To be sure I did,” replied the financial ruin in gloomy tones as he recalled his wedding clothes, abandoned in his lust for gambling. “Suppose we adjourn to that place. It might seem more respectable. Also, we might find saké there, and a chance to ob- serve peace until this abominable sheriff is out of town.” Round the corner to the Sons of Yamato they stole like specters, Shimba scurrying in the rear as though all the foxes out of hell were at his heels. Up the creaky stairs they tiptoed, and into the small room where saké and conversation had already done evil work for Shimba. Mr. Tanosuke closed the door silently; then he opened his silver cigar case and passed out black perfectos. “Shimba-san,” be began, settling him- self comfortably by the table, “this evening weighs very heavily on my conscience. How could I have let you stray into such temptation? But alas! An oni seems to hold him who gambles.” “Thavelosteverything,” gruntedShimba. The newly moral Tanosuke nodded. “You have promised a holy bonze that you would gamble no more. And you have given your word to Mr. Akagashi, of the drug store, that the money whould be in- vested. What will you do, Shimba-san?”’ The farmer sat, his bullet head bowed over the table. “Allow my humbleness to befriend you,” implored the kind-voiced gentleman. “I could not see you disgraced before men for this idle evening’s folly. Let me find a way out for you. Would you feel more secure, Shimba-san, if I should arrange you a loan?” “A loan!” i. Shimba raised his head. ‘ “Quite a substantial one. The amount of your loss would be a detail—any amount more than that. Interest? Interest would be forgotten if I spoke the word! I hate to see one about to begin a new family so out of luck—and by a fault which I could al- most call my own.” “What would this loan be?” asked the | friendly Matsu, speaking for his dumb | partner, “You, too. ight benefit by this, Matsu- san,” suggesied Mr. Tanosuke, his look of benevolence growing. “Such a loan you might be able to pay off by service. No cash required. My business brings me close to many matters of finance. Have you time to listen?”’ Matsu leaned far over the table to catch every word from Tanosuke’s wizard lips. Shimba sat like one dazed while the repre- sentative of worldly wisdom outlined his plan. / vir WHEN Baron Tazumi promised to in- troduce to Anna Bly his friends in San Francisco he made no vain promise, as was quickly proved as soon as her party had | set foot in So Ko, the Mulberry Port, which | the long-haired anes call San Francisco. EVENING POST Mr. and Mrs. Henry Otisuki called at her hotel an hour after she had registered. She went down to the reception room to meet them, and found there a benevolent, elderly, bulky Japanese in a ceremonious cutaway coat. He had a frank and hearty manner and the brusqueness of a success- ful American business man. It was not until he had introduced Mrs. Otisuki that Anna realized the importance of her visitors. Mr. Otisuki, she recollected in a flash, was no less a person than the brilliant land speculator who was rated as one of the wealthiest Orientals in the New World; less successful than Mr. George Shima, perhaps, but undeniably a grandee of importance. Mrs. Otisuki, short, plump and pretty, with the beautiful complexion which the ladies of her race often possess, wore enormous pearls in her ears, and over her shoulders a smartly cut coat of mole. She bobbed and smiled daintily, showing per- fect teeth, at every word that was said. But to the conversation she contributed noth- ing, preferring apparently to sit in the back- ground and surrender the floor to her rightful lord. Tazumi was a good fellow, declared Mr. Otisuki in his brusque and hearty way— something of an altruist, but a good fellow. He had sent word that Mrs. Bly was to see something of the California Japanese just to show her that they didn’t wear kimonos in the street and sing snatches from The Mikado, as most Easterners supposed. Wouldn’t Mrs. Bly come out to Piedmont and take potluck with them? After a trip across the continent she must be hungry for a bite of home cooking. 7 yes, do come!” squeaked) Mrs. Otisuki in the voice of a child who has re- hearsed her small part in a play. “And won’t Miss Brand come too?” urged Otisuki. “Our daughters are mighty anxious to meet you both after such grand send-off Tazumi sent in advance. We don’t put on some dog round our place. Just come plain clothes—better prepare to stay for night. Or we like to put you up at our place as long as you in this section.” His hospitality was truly overwhelming. Mr. Otisuki was quite evidently the social head of the house. He had but to suggest and there issued from the cherry lips of Mrs. Otisuki a series of staccato chirpings. Almost without hesitation Anna ac- cepted the invitation both for herself and Zudie. Indeed she was touched by this yet another instance of Tazumi’s thoughtful- ness. So four o’clock found Anna and her sister seating themselves in the comfort of the Otisukis’ velvet-cushioned car, while its hospitable owners made place for them and the big machine headed smoothly down Market Street toward the Ferry Depot. Among the sweet green hills of Piedmont they came at last — a handsome house of pink stucco, built Spanish style, with elaborate wrought-iron balconies and splen- did grille work at the entrance door. This was the place where they were to take pot- luck—no style—as Mr. Otisuki hed ab jauntily put it. A Japanese footman bowed them into the Castilian splendors of the en- trance hall. Somewhere, not far distant, a rich-toned piano was sounding in skillful runs and an illusive strain which tantalized her memory. The Scheherazade Suite! Glancing curiously into the music room beyond, Anna beheld the pianist, a young Japanese girl, her shoulders swaying above the keyboard, her eyes bent studiously upon the music rack. A Swedish maid, fastidiously uniformed, showed them to their rooms—daintily pan- eled apartments with French engravings on the walls. At half past seven the ladies, who had changed to simple dinner frocks, came down to be introduced to the rest of Mr. Otisuki’s happy family. The eldest daughter had been recently married to a Mr. Honda, a middle-aged banker, whose swollen, brownish face suggested innumer- able bee stings. Miss Genevieve Otisuki was nineteen, slender and delicate of figure, and she wore her clothes with the air of a Parisienne. There were cocktails before dinner, and when the party sat down in the dignified tapestried dining room Anna had a feeling of disappointment at the sight of handsome crystal and gold plate. She had so hoped for a taste of Japanese food as it might beserved by a yellow grandee of California. “Oh, no, none of that nonsense here!” chuckled Mr. Otisuki when she voiced the suggestion. “‘ Raw fish and noodles—back to the Middle Ages! If I should been able to eat food better than rice when I was boy October 9,1920 I might have grown to be quite tall. Just look at Oki over there.” Anna glanced toward a yery fashionable oung man who was at.that moment mak- Ing. himself agreeable to ie. When she had been introduced to him he had snapped out a large card plainly printed with the words, “S. Oki, Bly, California.” “They caught him early and made an American out of him. Look at his legs!” Cheerfully would Anna have done so had not the interesting members been hidden under Mr. Otisuki’s lace tablecloth. “Straight as a string!’ went on her host. “No squatting on mats for him! He was raised up on beefsteak and baseball.” “Don’t you admire Japan?” asked Anna, truly surprised by this unexpected point of view. “Japan? What do I know about it? I been American for thirty-five years. Of course you read much tommyrot about citizenship. What difference does that make? Don’t I own land here and run two or three banks and deal in the stock ex- change? Don’t I have children to vote for me? Don’t I send my eldest boy to Shef- field Scientific School and my youngest daughter to Berkeley? My daughter Katherine married Japanese, yes, but Honda is just American like I am.” Mr. Otisuki urged her to taste the Rhine wine which a servant had poured into her tall glass. “Napa Valley wine,”’ Otisuki informed her. “‘Can’t find better in the world. But, of course, Congress has settled wine. Con- wey always settling things, isn’t it, Mrs. e made this last sally with an amiable wink as he drank heartily. “It seems strange to me, I must confess,” persisted Anna, inspired to boldness by his open manner, “that you have no curiosity to see your own country again. Its won- derful progress—I should think that would interest anybody.” “Oh, you think so?” His voice was harsher than Tazumi’s, but it had the same effect of a virile bass playing against polite falsettos. “Japan! She will get along all right, I guess. She has made a jump—so has the rest of world. A hundred years ago she had no telephones. Neither did Amer- ica or other places. Japan not so wonder- ful. Sometime it bores me to think I was born in such a place.” After dinner Anna and Zudie found themselves stranded in the drawing-room with the ladies of the party—stranded they were indeed, for Mrs. Otisuki agreed to everything with a little peeping giggle, while the other Japanese ladies did little better in the way of carrying on conversa- tion. Anna found herself conducting a monologue, and when she paused polite silence prevailed, just as —— her pleas- ant listeners were waiting for her to go on. Finally she found a place next to Miss Genevieve Otisuki, who was looking over some music in a corner. Miss Genevieve furnished a refreshing contrast to her eld- ers. She was frank and independent, with all the slang and bravado of an American college girl. “I graduate next year,” she explained, “if I don’t flunk in math. I’m perfectly rotten at figures, but dad insists on my knowing mathematics. All I care for is my music. I’m teasing dad to send me to the Boston Conservatory, but he has a lot of old-fashioned notions about my getting married and all that sort of thing.” “T was independent, too, when I was your age,”’ smiled Anna. “I’m going to marry just whom I please or be an old maid,” declared the freedom- loving Miss Otisuki. Then with a look of peculiar intentness: ‘‘And it won’t be a Japanese either.” Anna sat wordless and embarrassed be- fore this candid statement from one of a race which she had always regarded as secretive and reserved. “‘What’s the use of my being different?” she went on. “I don’t care anything about the Japanese. I’m an American citizen.” “Don’t you ever want to see Japan?” asked Anna. ““‘WhyshouldI?” Thedarkeyes widened. “There’s nothing I want there. I’ve almost persuaded mother to take me to Paris as soon as things are better over there. I’m crazy about Paris; aren’t you?” It was late in the evening, and Miss Genevieve was performing brilliantly at the piano when the gentlemen rejoined their group. Soon after Mr. Otisuki’s guests dispersed for the night. (Continued on Page 103)

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Note the troughs on each side which catch and hold the dirt as it is washed from clothes, keeping the water cleaner. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST The APEX Washer is helping thousands of women get ready for winter. Rich, foamy suds in the APEX Oscillating Tub are washed back and forth, through and through, in and around your blankets and heavy woolen things. Then these come out delightfully refreshed. For the APEX Oscillating Tub cleanses all your clothes swiftly, gently and surely, without slightest danger or damage or wear. The APEX Ironer does all but your frilliest things— turns out piece after piece, all crisp and smooth and pretty. It runs easily by electricity—heats with gas, gasoline or electricity and has convenient hand and foot control. Write for nearest APEX dealer’s name—also our booklet, ‘*Washing, Ironing and Cleaning Helps,’’ free on request. APEX APPLIANCE CO., 3223-3263 W. 30th St., CHICAGO “For Canada,’ RENFREW REFRIGERATOR COMPANY, Limited. Head Office and Works, Renfrew, Ont You can quickly iron shirts, waists, petticoats, children’s togs and linens with the APEX lroner.

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST October 9, 1920 We Join With The Printzess Merchant in your town

in cordially inviting you to the f! complete presentation of Printzess Coats and Suits for fall and winter wear during Printzess Week October 11th to 16th All the newest ideals of design, color and silhouette, expressive of the prevailing mode, will be exhibited The Printz-Biederman Co. Paris Cleveland New York MADE IN A | <7 OS. rinizess Rel eas ee a: | j ‘ SRS DISTINCTION IN DRESS | rinizess

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x — i ~~ *_" et REY ey ee tee eee (Continued from Page 100) “T am working among my people at Bly. Small post, but quite interesting. If there is anything of interest you would like to see in San Francisco,” volunteered the affable Mr. Oki, standing straight and trim on his superior legs as he shook hands with Anna and her sister, “please depend upon me. Or may I have the pleasure of calling at your hotel with my car?” His thoughtfulness was indeed delight- ful, and Anna told him so as she bade him good night. During their five days’ stay in the Mul- berry Port, which the long-haired ones call San Francisco, the Brand sisters were féted to a point where they began to feel more like visiting royalty than humble farmers about to plunge into an unknown frontier. The affable Mr. Oki, who was no giant in spite of his superior legs, proved true to his promise. He appeared with an overcoat and a runabout of equally sportive pattern and invited Mrs. Bly and Miss Brand for a spin round the Presidio drives. He spoke English very well and American slang even better. As the pine-clad fortifi- cations reeled by them and they threaded a perfect road above the Golden Gate their pleasant guide seemed inclined to indulge in jokes at the expense of the Otisuki family. “Strange bird, don’t you think?” he chuckled. ‘ Always running down Japan— quite a fad with Otisuki.” “‘He must be a man of great ability,” said Anna. “Very live wire,” agreed S. Oki. “He does quite well, considering the slum of Nagasaki where he came up from. Otisuki, you understand, is a narrikin.” “A what?” inquired the Brand sisters in one breath. “Excuse the vulgar Japanese word,” apologized Mr. Oki. “That word is our slang. It has been invented since this Great War, and it means—what? Let me try to interpret. It means something like a parvenu—get rich rapidly—profiteer. That and several more things. It means anxiety to spend and jump into a better class.” “And Mr. Otisuki is all that?” laughed Zudie. “Oh, yes! But a good fellow.” Mr. Oki changed the subject to Bly. He had work there, he explained, looking after the mutual interests of the Americans and the Japanese. “And I hope I shall have a chance to be of service,”” he volunteered when the drive was over and he was helping them out at the door of their hotel. On Wednesday night they were invited to dine at the Japanese consulate, where, as it turned out, several members of the American expedition about to visit Nippon were being entertained in sumptuous style. Senator Jascomb, the Reverend Doctor Greet and the world-celebrated financier, Ignatius Kohl, sat at the consul general's long table, already glowing with enthu- siasm for the island kingdom they were about to see. The table had been set Japanese fash- ion, with many dishes on square, black- lacquered trays before each chair. Upon the central saucer of each tray a fairyland gar- den flourished. Radishes cut to resemble peonies were stuck on the twigs of a lupine stalk which had been planted in a mound of edible seaweed. At the foot of this tiny island pinkish slices of raw fish were ar- ranged to imitate ocean waves. The soup, too, was esthetic, glistening like an amber pool with lily pads and sea anemones float- ing in its depths. “They make everything beautiful,” said the Reverend Doctor Greet, his face bent toward his artistic food, ‘“‘and I am looking forward to my visit among the people of a great race who have learned so much better from us than we have learned from them.” Mr. Kohl, the financier, was much heartier in his expressions than he had been after the banquet in New York. He raised his glass to toast the Mikado and to swear that a better understanding between the two great nations would still forever the sense- less clamor now being raised along the Pacific Coast. Anna went home that night filled with a comfortable feeling that the strong men of America and Japan were standing behind the unthinking herd, directing them wisely THE SATURDAY EVENING POST out of the shoals of passion and into the serene waters of a permanent peace. They planned to stay in San Francisco until Monday. It was Saturday morning, and Anna was on the most commonplace of errands when she gained another glimpse of the Orient in America; and it was a pic- ture which fixed itself in her memory during her subsequent adventures with trans- planted Asia. The Chronicle had advertised a sale of children’s underwear in a Market Street department store; and Anna, remembering that she was the thrifty mother of growing children, went. Once inside, she loitered, as even the most sensible woman will, among the labyrinthine counters and their — of silks, stockings, gloves, ribbons and silverware. Without the slightest in- tention of buying, she lingered over a pile of shirt waists, when her eye was attracted by ty quaint as it was mysterious. A little figurine of a woman sat straight and haughty on a swivel stool in front of the counter. The tips of her daintily shod toes barely touched the floor, but there was about her none of that squattiness which so often spoils the Japanese woman in Occidental eyes. She was dressed with ex- quisite taste, the simple lines of her tailored suit fitting closely to her supple figure. A slender pillar of a neck, soft and smooth as the apricot, whose color it resembled, stood proudly up from a collar of fine needlework and supported a delicate little head with the most piquant, elfin face in all the world. The eyes were long and slitlike, the brown turned up at the corners like little wings, the mouth a rosebud dot of color. Behind the tiny princess a heavy, stodgy Japanese woman with an enormous face stood immovable, never taking her eyes from her companion. Anna was fixed to the spot, so great was her curiosity. What were the relations between the fairylike being and the clumsy Japanese woman? How prettily the little fingers, slender as reeds, picked up each trifle of lace as the long eyes looked down with Asiatic lan- gour! She could be no woman of flesh and blood. Even in her American clothes she was like some porcelain statuette of the Ming dynasty. 103 Long before Anna had satisfied her cu- riosity the Japanese woman made a motion which was surprising as it was sudden. She laid a stubby hand on one of the slender shoulders. Without a look to left or right the Ming statuette came to a standing posture. In spite of her high heels she was con- siderably under five feet tall. The ugly Japanese companion opened her purse and handed a bill to the shopgirl, and as soon as change and her bundle were pou to her she gave a sullen gesture which sent the dainty vision on her way, to be followed a few feet behind by her burly manageress Anna drew a long breath as the two dis- appeared into the crowd. “T never saw such a lovely Japanese before,” she said to the shopgirl who had just passed over the change, “The little one, you mean?” asked the girl. “She's no Jap. She’s a Korean. And say, I think she must be dotty in the head or something! Never takes a step without that big Jap comes tagging along, telling her where to stand or sit down. It gives me the creeps.” Anna wasted just an instant in specula- tion. What trade wind had blown this lovely curio into port? What did she stand for but the picture of an ancient race en- slaved, in bondage forevermore to the strong brown people whom the gods had chosen to endure? It was noon when Anna returned to her hotel. She found a telegram awaiting her in the letter box. When she opened it she read the long day letter which was to speed her upon the final stage of her journey: ‘Hope you have made the trip comfort- ably and enjoyed San Francisco, Please don’t go by train, as you will find the jour- ney tiresome. My car will be waiting at your hotel Monday morning. Be so kind as to accept its services as far as your farm. Best wishes to you all. TazumMi.” Before breakfast Monday morning Baron Tazumi’s car was announced. Was there no end to this good man’s influence or to his thoughtfulness for his friends? (TO BE CONTINUED) A California Fog From Above Wilson's Peak

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Records Which Speak for Every Essex October 9,1920 In 4 trips across America Essex 4 times breaks record First Essex San Francisco to New York— 4 days, 14 hours, 43 minutes. Lowers record by 12 hours, 48 min. Second Essex New York to San Francisco— 4 days, 19 hours, 17 minutes. Lowers record by 22 hours, 13 min. Third Essex San Francisco to New York— 4 days, 21 hours, 56 minutes. Lowers record by 5 hours, 35 min. Fourth Essex New York to San Francisco— 5 days, 6 hours, 13 minutes. Lowers record by 11 hours, 19 min. Essex also holds all records for cars of its motor size for all periods, from I to 50 hours. 3037 miles in 50 hours—longest run ever made by a car at top speed. An Essex that previously had gone 12,000 miles sets world’s dirt track mark of 1261 miles in 24 hours. Essex also holds world’s 24-hour road mark of 1061 miles. 0 a ee

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a te oF BE, FARE RE wy ecamatc eT fi, ware =) tt aah © KG THE SATURDAY EVENING POST The distinction of performance which rates the moderate-priced Essex among the fine cars of the world is by no means confined to its greater speed, acceleration and hill-climbing ability. Official proofs remove its supremacy in those qualities from debate. No car of its motor size ever matched them. Some of its marks were never equalled by any car, regardless of size, price or type. Thus Essex Takes Rank With the Greatest Cars Yet if one quality, more than another, causes men to link Essex in merit with the costly cars, it is its ease of motion, and elastic smoothness in action, which have no counterpart among light cars. That is the enchantment Essex owners admit they value next to its reliability. Even long association they say does not dispel the impression of riding in a large car. e (234) An Essex Advantage That All Acclaim To many, accustomed to accept certain shortcom- ings and discomforts as definite limitations of the light type, this flying ease of Essex travel is a greater matter of interest and wonder than even its famous performance records. Certainly it contributes more steadfastly to the comfort and enjoyment of driving. Men who use a motor much in business especially appreciate Essex driving ease. They know how motoring fatigue and discomfort take from them the fresh edge which makes the differ- ential between a successful day and just muddling through. An Appeal That 45,000 Know We know in all candidness that few men ever have call for such speed and power as Essex possesses. Yet no owner mistakes it for useless surplus. This excess ability is valued chiefly because it does the ordinary task without effort. And because men like to have capacity that can meet exceptional calls for power, speed and acceleration, with an ease and absence of strain that brings no concern as to its accomplishment. The satisfaction and enthusiasm of more than ~ 45,000 owners contents us to leave the judgment of the Essex in their hands. _ Essex Motors, Detroit, Michigan 105

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106 Hows compression ? weak ? strong ? or dont you know ? AVE you tested the compression of \ few turns of your engine lately? the engine will tell you how it is. Compression depends on the condition of your valves, the fit of your pisten-rings and the tightness of your cylinders. CLOVER reseats valves Clover Most likely you are using it. CLOVER laps piston-rings and cylinders quickly, surely. Good. reseats valves Every piston-ring, old or new, must be lapped into its own groove and into the cy linder toget pertec t compression. Clover will lap score marks from cylinders— usually saves reboring and new pistons. CLOVER stays on the job Clover is a fast-cutting, even-graded abra- sive that positively will not run off the work. It will do accurate and uniform work on every kind of lapping job. why Baldwin's use it in their locomotive shops and why you'll find it used in the yards of the Bethlehem Shipbuilding Cor- poration. Machine shops, tool rooms and good garages the country over use Clover for lapping and grinding jobs. If you want to know more about these important facts let us send you the Clover Bulletins, No. 75 and No. 80, which tell | in simple terms how to stop compression- leaks in your engine. Machine Shops Use CLOVER Clovet Lapping Compounds are used as stan dard abrasives in such shops as: Curtiss Aeroplane Corp. Buffalo Gasoline Motor Co, N. ¥. Air Brake Co Westinghouse Electric & Mfg, Co, 116 different industries use Clover for lap ping, grinding, polishing and surfacing work Seven grades packed in ft-lb, cans. One grade to the can. Tell ue the job to be done, and we'll tell you which grade will do it Dest CLOVER Grinding and Lapping Compound NORWALA, CHICAGO, SAN FRANCISCO ee ee ee es ee ee ee ee = CLOVER MFG. Co. 114 Maio Street Norwalk, Conn. Please send me the Clover Instruction Bulletins and samples of Clover Compound for Car Owner Distributor [ ] Public Garage Machine Shop Tractor [ ]} Utility Engines @rint Name Address gladly answered. Technical questions | That's | } and two in Liberty Bonds. | . | business. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST October 9,1920 TWO WEEKS WITH PAY and I wanner see how it feels. What is further, here I been selling luxury for three years, first at the Chick and now here at the Intime, without really knowing what it is. I’m fed up on the way I live- one room and a sixth of a bath. Believe me, I’m going to have two weeks of standard-brand living or know why. Some people need refreshment and some need | rest. I need refreshment. I’m working in the line I like and I mean to raise in it. Crickets may be good for your nerves, dear, but jazz is what will rest me most.” ell, Pansy O'Donnell, I think you’re crazy!” says Mary. ‘“‘Poppa’s farm is only ten miles from Narrataskett, and I’ll say it’s near enough—on your salary!” Well, Mabel, you know how it would naturally be with a plain little chicken like Mary Maloney—and with her own home to go to as well. But take me, now. There’s no use in a person moping over being a orphan and ambitious as well, and it wasn’t not exactly that I expected to meet any- body at Narrataskett with serious inten- tions. I get too good money myself to fall that low unless in love as well. I made me what I am to-day, I’m sure I’m satisfied. Honest to goodness, Mabel, I wanted to do just what I set out to—have two weeks of living like I dress on the outside—-snappy, | expensive, quiet and refined. Say listen Mabel, you know most of the girls over to the Intime fall for the stuff the shop carries. Do they wear silk? Hah! You tell her, corset, you’re closer to her thanI am! And the prices they pay—even after old Gin has taken off twenty per cent! But not so your little Pansy-Face! I save my money! You see, Mabel, I know this I know every line of goods in it, and how they will wear, and I only buy just what has wear in it, because I'll tell the world I'd rather be clean than fancy. Why, Mabel, one girl over to our house paid six- | teen dollars for a piece of near-satin junk trimmed with georgette flowers, and—well, she called it a union suit, but it had to work twenty-four hours a day. I'll say a girl like that will never get anywheres in the trade. , I make my own out of muslin by hand, and have plenty, at about fifty cents each. Nobody but me knows what I wear, so I should worry. But I do like my self-respect and comfort, and I wash them out, too, instead of supporting a laundry. On the outside I admit it is different. Business is business, and one which is selling jazz has got to look the part. I used to know a feller oncet run a restaurant, and he always eat the plain things on the menu. The idea is the same. Only of course he was saving what he already had, wile I been saving to get something, and the only thing a girl in a shop can save for is personal equipment, the ones to improve herself, and little cash to use for that purpose or illness. Well, say listen Mabel. I picked out Narrataskett for all them reasons, and I had the money. Two hundred in the bank The hotel I picked on was the Ocean View, American plan, but fifty a week and up. I wasn’t planning to take the elevator, however. Only one thing I overlooked, and that was writing in advance. Say, Mabel, you really had ought to see Narrataskett. Even after all I got against it, I must admit it’s swell. I mean the water and the views and all. Awful lump: country, mostly rocks and sage and nom | but with the grandest smell when the sun bakes down on it—kind of like hot plum pudding, only fresh and crisp. The pine trees and the bay bushes and the oil on the roads makes it. I always heard perfume was made out of petroleum, but I never actually knew it before. And the houses are simply grand! As for the hotel, I couldn't grant it much except for size, but I knew it was swell, because of the names I had often seen in the Sunday papers as stopping there: Mrs. Arthur -Wainsworth, the Rivingtons and the Colbys, of Boston. And if that wouldn't give a place class, what could? You tell ‘her, dictionary, you've got the words! Say listen Mabel. It’s a funny thing, but when I got to that hotel I begun to sort of get cold inside my six-dollar silks and patent ankle straps. Strange, ain't it, dear, after me planning this act for so long? But somehow by the time the omnibus which had met the train drew up at the hotel steps and backed into them I commenced | to wish I hadn't come. (Continued from Page 21) You see the reason for this was partially because I wasn’t alone in the bus. And the company I had there was just naturally taking all the joy out of Nature, and the gladness I felt at getting out of the hot city and ten hours a day on my feet and into the cool country was fading.fast. Believe me, dear, cool country was right. I could feel it already, even though the bus windows was closed against the balmy ocean breezes. Remember the way we girls would get to talking, though perfect strangers, on the way to the Brookville Vacation House? Well, I'll tell the world that the middle- aged minister and his wife who shared the coop with me had nothing so chatty about them! They was a total loss in that con- veyance, conversationally speaking, though it was built closer’n a chummy roadster and our knees touched. Was they an enthusiastic pair? You tell her, ice box, you got the chill! And a perfect forty-eight in a mink dolman, and two toy dogs which was seated opposite, didn’t help to cheer us either. After a little wile she actually took out a pair of spy glasses and commenced staring at me through them. Then I see why she needed the mink. It was for self-protection when she put her ‘eaproe peepers into action, because it’s the truth the tempera- ture dropped to somewhere below last winter’s record when she did so. But I stared back. I couldn’t help it, because I had never seen a pair of those long-handled eyeglasses used before outside aie pic- tures, and of course realized I must be in the resence of some society matron. t looks like a cold spell ahead,” I re- marked to be polite. But nobody had the courage to agree with me, and by then we was arrived. Say listen, Mabel, you had oughter of seen the bellhops hop for Old Double Eyes! I had the straight dope on her just by instinct. The minute the door was opened the birds began to sing, “Right here, Mrs. Wainsworth,” “How do, Ma- dame Wainsworth,” and “Thank you, let me take it, Mrs. Wainsworth,” “Be care- ful, Mrs. ———”’ and so on. And the old girl took it all with more friendliness to these mere menials than she had shown her fellow passengers, believe me! And the Bishop and Company weren’t exactly ignored either. Only little Pansy O'Donnell was free from these annoying attentions, though after a wile a boy did om wp. my two bags and mix them in with /ainsworth’s, a fact which give her per Bi pain as soon as she noticed it. I wouldn’t of believed a person could put so much meaning into four simple words like “Those are not mine” unless I had of heard it. By this time we was in the stately light- oak lobby with the red carpet on the and everything, and the desk was being completely occupied by Wainsworth, D and Company and the Church. They made a lot of cackle and took up so much of the elerk’s attention that he didn’t even get round to noticing I was there until the crowd begun to melt, and then just as I was beginning to wonder would I beat it or not, because two ladies heavily armed with knitting needles was giving me the unfavor- able once-over from the porch, I got the had she of my young life. The clerk, who shoved the ledger toward me with a sharp “Have you reservations, miss?” suddenly got a good look at my-face. “I—I beg your pardon—I didn’t see who yon you, Miss it was at first!”’ he kind of gas didn’t wire for reservations, di La Tour?” Say listen, Mabel, can you,beat it? Did it give me a shock? You tell her,: battery? But I never twitched a muscle in my calm, refined face. ' Not on the outside, y’ under- stand—but on the inside! I was burning up, that’s what! I was so sore at the glassy mitt which I had been slipped up to that minute that I .couldn’t but ‘fall for this opening. Evidently as my own self I was nobody, but as Marie Tour I was counted, at least by the clerk, who looked to be a bright young city chap, and Marie La Tour meant more real things in his life than six Mrs. Forty-eight Wainsworths. You can see that, can’t you dear? Well, I could too, in a flash. But I was cagy just the same. I am no female impersonator, so I merely looked at the bird in a knowing way —straight eoeere stuff—as I lan- guidly took up the pen. “I didn’t telegraph for rooms,”’ I says in a low, quiet voice which made the swells sound real common. “I did not telegraph for rooms because I only got away unex- pectedly. I am here for a rest,” I says with meaning, “and prefer to be plain Miss O'Donnell wile I remain.” “I see!”’ says the bird eagerly. “I see, Miss La Tour! I understand perfectly ou want to be quiet. But I do wish you ad wired. I’m afraid we haven’ t a good enough apartment for you! And he commenced clawing among the keys in a frantic kind of a way. “Oh, I expect you have!” I says hastily and in mortal fear he’d find the bridal suite was vacant. “I’m not so particular when I’m resting. And I didn’t bring any maid.” That was a master stroke, eh, Mabel? “Then I suppose perhaps Three Hundred and Six will do,” he gabbled. “The bed- room is rather small, but the sitting room has a view of the ocean. And if you can manage there for a few days I think I can arrange for better quarters—say, by the end of the week.” Well listen, Mabel, this was Monday, me having taken two days in town to get ready, and I’ll say when he mentioned two rooms and undoubtedly a bath, though it was evidently silent in suite, I thought to myself next week would be plenty soon enough for better quarters. Only it was more likely to be a question of dimes by then. At least, I guessed it would be, guessing being the only thing I was in a position to do, because no well-known picture actress would need to ask the price in advance. They never did on boudoir caps, at any rate, as I knew from my own personal experience. So I signed on the dotted line without a tremor—my own name—“‘ Miss.Pansy O’ Donnell, New York City,” and indicated by my eyebrows that they could lead on. The clerk give the bell an awful wallop and called a boy. “Front!” he shouted. “I say, Miss La Tour, you don’t mind my telling you you are my favorite, do you? I think you are greater than Pickford!” “You are awful kind,” I murmured with downcast modesty. “But am Miss O’Donnell— please remember that.” “Certainly, Miss La Tour’’—he grinned like a cat. “Here, Front, Three-O-Six lively now!” The boy called Front give one look at me and come to life. Then he picked up the two bags like they had TNT in them or something and led the way on tiptoe as if he was in a church. Some sensation! Haughtily ignoring the scattered crowd in the lobby the same as I had seen my double do in The Scarlet Pride, I swept along after him. I'll say the sensation it give me was worth the room rent, whatever it was going to come to. When we reached my suite that bellhop set the world’s record for attentiveness, and when I give him a half a dollar, which I felt was the least could be expected from my new self, instead of pocketing it with a “t’anks” he pressed the half to his heart and made me a bow—a regular one, cracked at the waist. “Oh, Miss La Tour!” says the kid, all red in the face. “I will never part with this! And if it was only a plugged nickel I would feel the same. “That's all right, Cupid!” I says. “ Now run along, I’ve got a heavy part I want to think out.” And with that I slammed him out of headquarters, and then think is just what I did—good and plenty. Of course, Mabel, what I had allowed them to wish onto me could of been avoided. I admit that. But I didn’t start it, see? And realizing at once, like I did, that I’d have to be somebody in this hotel or I might as well spend my two weeks at home in the ice chest, I determined even on second thought to let it slide. After all, I had denied being Miss La Tour. They couldn’t pin it onto me legally, and besides I had a feeling of hating to disappoint them. What harm could it do, an ys, to leave them think their 6wn thoughts? And lookit the fun I would have! Only a sick aunt or the studio or something would have to call me back at the end of one week— that was financially certain. Though wile there I was certainly to enjoy the place. It was so pretty 1@duld of in (Continued on Page 109)

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Ca ~ THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ( And this is \ t) when th ngs seer EAR Boys aad Girls’ When the Quakers ae? first came toghis country there weren't any * ” housegwhere theg went tolive,and cement any grocéty stofes from which i g And befoteghey could plant theted me had brought with to raise the food they needed, the crucl wiriter came upon them, and the little et boys and girls had not enough to eat. e Indians, the Quakers’ friends, brought them, Baskets of food they had never seen before - -baskets of golden Indian corn. BInto this corn,” the Indians said, “we have called the Three Good Spirits of Beautiful Youth ~the Spirit of Strength, the Spirit of Courage, and the Spirit of Truth. “They will save your starving children, because into him who eats the corn, the Three Good Spirits enter and he becomes strong and brave and true.” Now we have called these same Three Good Spirits for you — corn flakes named Quaker Quakies. Corn flakes made crisp and firm by Chitani-wa- ganit, Good Spirit of Strength. called them into a new kind of Corn flakes bravely colored by Ilau-wa-ganit, Good Spirit of Courage. Corn flakes with a sweet deliciousness given’ by Wula-wa-ganit, Good Spirit of Truth. Ask your grocer for the fairy box of Quaker Quakies in which these Three Good Spirits dwell. Then you too, like the little Quaker boys and girls of long ago, can become strong and brave and true from these Three Good Spirits of Beautiful Youth. The Quaker Oats Company, 1616M, Railway Exchange Bldg., Chicago, U.S.A.

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST October 9, 1920

COMFORT

Nc Aiding

THE MUNSINGWEAR CORPORATION | <ACinneapolis

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ee ee eee (Continued from Page 106) it forever. Believe me, Mabel, there are few things so trying to face as the fact that you simply haven’t got the money—and ea was one time when I certainly real- i Well, listen, Mabel, you know me! When my mind is settled on a thing I quit worr. ing over it. And having decided I wou d leave the hotel people draw any conclusions which give them pleasure, I would see what joy I could haul out of it myself. And the drama commenced when I entered the dining room for dinner that night. Yeh, I wore the simple black evening gown—the one which is so simple it don’t really amount to anything much— which I copied off Ruby Roselle in Tiger Tooth remember? And when I come in there was a kind of a hush went over that eating place like here comes the bride or some- thing. Their necks nearly come off rubber- ing, but I went by in all my artistic detachment from the world and sat down at a table by my lonesome, where the waiter showed me. Say, Mabel, I never expected to be that much embarrassed by putting food into my mouth. Though once you get used to it you enjoy it. But wile the other boarders stared, they didn’t chum up ~- Well, Mabel, when I sat out on the porch afterward I commenced to feel a real sympathy with the animals in the park, only of course the people round me wasn’t looking into such a private part of my life as into, say, the lions’ only cage would be. But did they rush up and gather round? You tell her, telegraph pole—you got the insulators! I felt about as much in the midst of friends as I would in my coffin. I was there, but I wasn’t supposed to be alive—d’yer understand, dear? Believe me, it was a relief to be able to say good night out loud to the clerk at nine-thirty, when I headed for the hay! I couldn’t decide quite whether it was better to be left alone as a celebrity or as a poor working girl, but was wavering in favor of the part most natural to me before I went to sleep. It certainly looked like my vacation was going to be a gay affair—not! But say, listen, Mabel! The next morn- ing things begun to loosen up a little. At breakfast, which I had forgot to stay up- stairs in my room for, I being hungry and breakfast being one of my three favorite meals, a real nice-looking boy—a kid, he really was—come over to my table with a pleasant smile and white flannels. “I beg pardon, Miss La Tour,” he says, “but my sister and I havea little sloop, and we are getting up a sailing party and we’d love to have you join us. But—but she’s afraid to come over and ask you, so I did!” Can you beat that? You tell her, pie- face—you got the crust! But it was a opening, and I graciously consented, though I’ | tell the world sai ing is some- thing anybody who envies me can take my share of! But you got to make sacrifices to get on socially. And listen, Mabel, by lunch time I was the Queen of the May, only having a hard time turning down questions like, ‘‘ How do you feel when you first read a part?” or, ‘Do you really put on gray make-up?” “Which do you con- sider your best picture?”’ “‘Do you think I would photograph well, Miss—O’Don- nell?”” “‘Isn’t it wonderful to be in the motion pictures?’’ And so forth ad im- becilitum. “Now listen, folks!” I says at last. “I’m not going to answer one single ques- tion. I’m here for a rest. Can’t you just leave—let me be a girl on a vacation?” And whatter you think they says to that, eh, Mabel? “Oh, isn’t she too sweet? So natural and not a bit conceited. She won’t say a word about her work, my dear! The most retir- ing young woman !” Actually, I overheard Mrs. Clergyman, who had handed me the frozen face in the bus, spilling that to Mrs. Wainsworth in the hallway! But Mrs. W. continued up- stage. I passed close enough to hear what her lady friend said, but the old dame merely hoisted the quizzers at me, like she was learning to know the wild birds and I was the flamingo. But I didn’t worry any. I was over being lonesome, and if you have ever been twenty-four hours in a hotel completely surrounded by strangers which are enjoying everything but your company you will understand me, dear! Oh, I was over the left-all-alone-again blues all right! My only trouble was in being overcrowded. Because after lunch it was going to be high tide, and round three o'clock everybody was going in bathing. Everybody, that is, but little Pansy. Say, listen, Mabel, remember how you and the girls used to kid me down to the beach the summer we was at the Marine Vacation House? About my bowlegs, I mean? And me not learning to swim? Well, remember Marie La Tour in The Sea King’s Daughter? Well, do you see what let me out? Think it up, coffee, you got the bean! Remember how she swum round under water, and the tights and all? Well, dear, you can see what I was up against. Especially when I looked out of my sitting- room Window with the ocean view and spotted every last male in thé hotel unob- trusively hanging round waiting for me to come out. And wasn’t I just about dying to go in and jump up and down, holding on to the rope with my legs well under water? And it couldn’t be done. I had eeutey used my nose to spite my legs Ag nose being undoubtedly’ exact exactly ke Miss La Tour’s, but the legs being the real answer to the question I have often been asked of “Why stay in a specialty shop with a face like that and always room for one more real one in the Follies?” The facts being known only to a few girl friends. However, I decided to make some use of them anyways, and wile the refined but human crowd was thickening round the front door I hoofed it out the side-veranda way and started on a back-country hike, because it was too fine a day to rest all afternoon. Say, listen, Mabel, do your feet ever bother you? I thought so. Same here! It’s the hours, I guess, and then so much dancing on the top of them—I mean on top of the hours. I wouldn't go out with that kind of a partner, I don’t care what he could spend. Well, yeh, I know, dear, and that’s the way mine felt after I had gone to the village and sent the girls at the Intime some picture postals of the hotel, and had a soda and got about halfway back. I just simply had to sit down, and so picked out the softest rock I could see along the road, and was resting on it enjoying the ants and mosquitoes and other pleasures of outdoor life when a big roadster come into sight, approaching fast but slowing down as it got nearer. When it come up it almost stopped, and when the one which was driving it saw me it stalled. And say, listen, Mabel, it was that feller which had bought the camisoles! “Well, of all heavenly—that is, what a nice surprise!” he said, lifting his real, genuine Panama. “How d’ja do!’”’I says, smiling a little. Somehow I felt I knew him more’n I did. You know how it is when you see a face you recognize far from home. se say, it’s ripping of you to speak sweetly,” he said. “But we have met, haven't we—really? Are you staying He was out of the car now, and come over to me with his hand out. I took it. After all, how is a person to make friends if they act too retiring? “I’m staying at the Ocean View for a couple of weeks—or maybe one week,” I told him. Gee, Mabel, it was nice to see him! He seemed a little surprised when he heard where I was boarding, and no wonder, because lookit where he had met me! But he didn’t say anything fresh about being surprised. Too much of a gentleman. “Well, that’s great!’ he says. “I hope I’m going to see something of you?” .” Sure!” I says. “‘Where are you stop- “Why, I have a summer place here,” he explained. ‘‘Come up every year! I say, can’t we take a little spin now? Come on, I’m a good guide! I'll show you the town!” Well, Mabel, of course I went. And I think any girl would of in my place, though if he had beey really a stranger of course I wouldn’t of considered any such offer, and have turned down plenty in my time. But I'll say I was wd to get into that boat of his—solid wheels, gray paint—swell! And he so refined and handsome and everything, in such expensive clothes. I wondered would he point out which place was his, and decided not to ask, because, Mabel, you can take it from me there ain’t a summer place in Narrataskett could of been put up for less than a hundred thousand dollars! Well, from the way he started his car I could see he had stalled it from surprise, and soon we was on our way, Winding in and out among the hills and cottages, and he was telling me which one belonged to that person and this, and called most by THE SATURDAY EVENING POST their first name. He knew everybody in town—it was easy to see that. But we didn’t seem to pass his house, though he said his mother and sister was living with him, and I supposed of course he would point it out before we was through. “Are you in a hurry?” he says. “I'd love to take you out on the point if you are not—the sunset is beautiful from there.” Well, he seemed so anxious I should go I says all right, I had lots of time, and, be- lieve me, I was in no hurry to get back to the hotel, and so he turned off into a lone- some but awful pretty road; and knowing several things by experience, I thought this was a good time to remind him he was engaged, though, believe me, dear, it give me an awful twinge to remember it myself. “And how is your fiancée, Mr. Living- ston?” I says, for by this time he had tolc me his name was that. “My what?” he says. Then he laughed. Gee, such a nice laugh! “Why, I haven’t any fiancée!”’ he says. “I’m single as can be. Those what-you-call-’ems were for my kid sister!”’ Say, listen, Mabel, you ¢an’t imagine the load that took off my chest! I didn’t care now how lonesome the road was or how late we stayed on it. And when he parked the car way out on the end near a light- house and we sat there facing the sunset I don’t think I ever felt happier in my life. A handsome yours millionaire of social position, lovely language, straight eye, swell clothes iad car, and unengaged. What more could anybody ask for, eh dear? And when he turned to me very serious and took a gentle hold on one of my hands I couldn’t say a word, my heart was thumping so. It give me such a queer feeling —all sort of gone, but glad to be, and glad also I had never fooled round with nobody or done nothing to cheapen myself, “Miss O’Donnell, you don’t whe me,’ he says very serious and sweet. “But I do most sincerely hope you are going to give “me a chance. You made a deep i impression on me when we met the first time. I’m not a kid, and I know my own mind. ‘come day you and I are going to mean a lot to each other. I don’t want you to say any- thing now. It wouldn’t be fair. But I want you to see me as often as you will. I'd have looked you up in the city if you hadn’t appeared in this wonderful manner. And I want to say just this before we close the subject for the present: I’m straight as I know how to be. Everyone here knows me and will tell you about me. I’ve got plenty of money and I have as decent a record as I could make so far—you needn't be afraid of me is what I mean.” “T’m not,” I says in a low voice. “I sort of felt right away we might be friends—- only I put it out of my mind, because I thought you belonged to someone else.”” “IT see,” he says. ‘ Well now, young lady, we will forget all this for a day or two—and I’m going to take you right back to the hotel, because you are staying there alone. I want you to know my sister and mother we'll take them on our next ride.”’ Well, Mabel, can you imagine my thoughts as we drove back? Not that I would of had them if I wasn’t feeling pretty soft over him in the first place, riches being no inducement if love did not enter in you know that, dear! But I could just see myself in that fine country home of his, with no more Intime, and buy my stuff there for the trousseau if I wanted to. And also myself automobiling and cooing my way through life with Livingston, which was no hardship, and a name like that is a convenient handle at times. Not for noth- ing had I kep’ myself a lady, and virtue was for once about to get a little something extra thrown in by way of a reward. Say, listen, Mabel, this pink cloud kep’ its silver lining until we reached the village. He was a awful good driver, and going fairly slow for him, and we was saying something about fate drawing me to Narra- taskett, when all of a sudden right in the middle of town somebody yelled ‘Hey, Jack!” and Mr. Livingston slowed down. “Excuse me a minute if I stop!” he said. “TI guess one of the boys needs to speak to me.” Well, dear, I says “Certainly,” and we stopped in front of a big garage; where a bunch of mechanics was sitting outside. But even then I didn’t think anything was peculiar. No, not even when one of them overalled common people broke loose from the crowd and come over to us. “Say, Jack,’’ he begun, addressing Mr. Livingston, “Richmond’s chauffeur was down here raising Cain because their old 109 cluck wasn’t ready. Will I go at it now, or do you want to look at that engine your- >” “T’ll be back in a few minutes and give it the once-over,”” says my escort. ‘Did anybody bring those new shoes yet? I was oing to the station for them, but I met my riend here and was a little delayed. You have Tom go over Mrs. Wainsworth’s spark plugs, will you? And, say, mark down two quarts of oil to Mackenzie before I forget it!” Say, listen, Mabel, wile all this horrid revelation was going on you can bet little Pansy’s eyes was busy. And over that arage was a sign which says “ Narrataskett rarage, J. Livingston Smith, Prop.,”’ and worst yet, above it was a neat flat with window boxes and white curtains and a perfectly evident mother knitting behind one of them! My swell was a garage man! Owner or not, I had been deceived, and I got out of that car quickly and quietly, a perfect lady on the outside, but on the inside! You can just imagine, Mabel! hy, where are you going?” says that deceitful fraud over his misleading six- dollar tie. ‘What on earth is the matter?” “This is the matter, Mr. Smith,” I says as coldly as old Wainsworth herself. “I been deceived for no good reason,” I says. “Tf you was to of told me in the first place who you were all would of been well,” I says, “but a bluff is something I can never stand for—a person which pretends to be one thing when they are merely another is simply out so far as I am concerned. Pre- tense is never going to get you anything, and I’m glad I found you out in time.” “But I haven't misled you!” he began. “What on earth—please get back in the car!" “You told me your name was Livingston and that you were —oh, what's the use!"’ I rade “Let us discuss it no further. Good a And with that I left him staring after me and walked off down the street. In two minutes he had overtaken me in his car. “Say, Miss O’Donnell, please!" he says, slowing down as I speeded up. “Wait! I never dreamed you misunderstood! I had no idea of fooling you!" “Go away, please,” I says with dignity, though my shoes was certainly too tight and the hotel a long ways off. ‘‘There’s no "I says. “Good-by.” “Well, of course, if you insist,’”’ he says, still running along slow beside me. “I'm terribly sorry. If you ever change your mind, let me know. I meant every word I said! And then he speeded up, darted ahead and turned away down a side street, leaving me to walk home amidst the ruins of my dream. And was it a ruin? You tell her, show goods—-you know the case! Say, listen, Mabel, I was so upset and sort of sickened and confused and mad and everything that I actually couldn't think straight when I started back to the hotel over them steep sandy roads. But by the time I come in sight of it 1 had begun to realize that my vacation was everything else but a big success. Here I was staying in a hotel that I couldn’t afford among a lot of people who didn’t give a cuss for Pansy O'Donnell and only thought of Marie La Tour as a kind of curiosity that wasn't human exactly. I was wild to get out, and yet in a way I wanted to see it through. Do you understand me, dear? To go would be the same as if I was driven away, sort of! And I was as good as them, and had as good a right to submit to being overcharged there if I wanted to be that kind of a fool. And now on the top of everything here I had been, so to speak, invited into heaven and then been told there was no room. I was evidently gonner work for the rest of my living, just as per previous schedule, and probably die a old maid at that. No body ever asked me before to marry them, or anywheres near it, except a couple of fellers which I wouldn't of took on any account, and I got the conviction strong that nobody ever would ask me again. You know the way it is, Mabel. A girl is always sure it is her last chance every time, and that her opportunities for writing a “‘ Mrs.” before her signature is things of the past It’s a awful feeling, but I bet there ain't a woman living but has had it, unless she grabbed off the first John who said some thing she could twist that way. So you can see, dear, I was in no condi- tion to stand any more shocks by the time I reached the hotel. But fate, or whatever (Concluded on Page 112)

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110 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST October 9, 1920 —— —_ — — - ane j —— j ‘ele JINN ttl... eilrnciiillie..tldn tli... j { i ©THE floor plan to the right shows in detail the kitchen illustrated above —with the HOOSIER properly placed as the very heart of the kitchen. A HOOSIER will save steps and abolish backache in any kitchen. But it is most helpful when all kitchen conveniences — sink, cupboards, range, refrigerator, etc.—are so located that every task logically begins and ends at the step-saving HOOSIER. HOOSIER

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| HOOSIER KITCHEN CABINET } KITCHEN [ tape i. = THE SATURDAY EVENING POST HE kitchen shown here is an outgrowth of the newest development in home-building. It was deliberately planned with the idea of mak- ing housework easier. A definite, specific place was provided for the Hoosier Kitchen Cabinet, because housewives and home-makers have come to know that a Hoosier functions best when the kitchen is planned to logically focus all of the work on the step-saving Hoosier. But whether you are planning a new home or not, you need a Hoosier now. For the Hoosier—already the proud posses- sion of two million American Housewives— enables you to do your kitchen work quickly and easily. With every tool and utensil in the one place most easy to get at, with foods and condiments right at your finger tips, you sit before Hoosier’s big, uncluttered work-table—at your ease. No fussing or fuming—no_back-breaking reaching or lifting, not a single unnecessary step. Just easy, comfortable, well-ordered work—that is Hoosier’s solution of the Kitchen-work problem. Go to the Hoosier Store, and satisfy yourself that this is so. Or send for the booklet—“New Kitchen Shortcuts.” THE HOOSIER MANUFACTURING COMPANY Main Orrice —1020 Maple St., Newcastle, Ind Brancu Orrice — Mezzanine Floor, Pacific Building, San Francisco, Calif, Brancu Orrice—368 Portage Ave., Winnipeg, Man., Canada. TT ITI Copyright 19270—The Hoo ier Mig. Co,

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Conctuded from Page 109) it is, never seems to take any account of what a person can stand, and generally keeps right on walloping, once she has got a good start, which is leading to Mrs. Arthur Wainsworth and her sailing right up to me with intent to collide the very minute I got inside the lobby There was a synthetic smile on her face, and I could of swore she had actually been waiting for me if it had been any other person Her longyong was dangling harmlessly from a chain, and she didn’t draw it as she come up either. I got my first real good look at her during them few feet, and I could see she was a woman who had experienced everything but poverty. “ My--ah-—-dear young lady!” she says in a voice that was accustomed to have its own way. “ We have been looking for you everywhere! Where have you been hiding all afternoon that we couldn’t find you?” Well, Mabel, I don’t know where she got that we stuff, because she was conspicu- ously alone, unless maybe it was not to let herself in too deep. I just murmured some- thing about motoring, and she went right on “Tl am Mrs. Wainsworth,” she says, just as if we was seeing each other for the first time “And of course you have seen our posters We iL ‘eels Mabel, up to date I hadn't exactly hung round the lobby reading the lost-and-found notices, but I had taken in the fact that there was to be a benefit of some kind some day on hand-made one- sheeters. But I never up to that minute connected myself with it. And connected is right — that was just what the old girl had in mind. I begun to get a we glim- mer of why she was so cordial all of a sudden as soon as she says posters. “TI hadn't noticed them, Mrs.—er Wentworth, did you say?” I says very low-voiced and refined and never-heard- of-you f ‘thought I had her there. I know a chance for a comeback when I see it, though not a cat ordinarily. But she never batted a eyelash. It seems these swells is positively case- hardened when they want anything out of you, and can swallow as many insults as they ordinarily hand out when it’s the other way round. “It is for the benefit of the Home Service Fund,” she says sweetly. “And we are counting on you to take part—just any little thing whatever you care to do.” “But I'm afraid I won't be here,” I says hopefully. ‘When is it?” “On Saturday night,” says she. “And the clerk tells me you are here for two weeks.”’ She had me cinched, it began to seem “But Mrs.—er—Wainright,” I says, “I’m here for a much-needed rest, you know.” “But dear young lady,” says the old hen, swallowing my second slap with a smile, “‘you surely wouldn't refuse to help such a good cause! Why, everyone knows Marie La Tour never refused to help a fund of that sort in her life! People always count on her!’ Well listen, Mabel, of course I didn't want to give Marie La Tour a black eye, admiring her the way I do, and for a minute I didn’t know what to say. I was positively clawing the air with my mind. “But—I haven't anything ready,” I says desperately. “Well, we can rehearse as often as you like,” Mrs. Wainsworth says smoothly. “You have until Saturday evening, you know.” “My dear lady,” I says severely, “I never rehearse! I haven't done such a thing in years!" “Then do some old bit from your stage days,”’ says Mrs. “I seem to remember a much-advertised dance. W hy not do that? Surely you are not going to refuse us—and spoil your splendid record for generosity with your great talent, are you?” ‘They'd never find the music for that dance,” I sort of gasped. “It was the San Francisco Doll.” “If that’s the only difficulty, I’m sure the orchestra leader here has it,’’ says she, tightening the straps of the death chair about me. “He never has anything really new. Now that’s a promise!" “But, Mrs. Wainsworth,” can't— really!” “I've written your name at the head of the program,” she says a little sharply, I began, “I THE SATURDAY “and you must be a good girl and let it stay. It has already noticeably increased the sale of seats!” The dear, sweet old lady! So accustomed to always having her own way! Say listen, Mabel, the next three days was a nightmare. A kind of a gay night- mare, because I was now completely taken up by high society, and never left alone to myself or allowed to be dull, as it were, for fear I'd change my mind—or rather Mrs. Arthur Wainsworth’s mind—and not ap- pear, and make their show a flivver. I was as closely guarded and as showered with attentions as if I was in the death house at Sing Sing, and, believe me, Mabel, I felt as if that was just about where I was. They never left me to myself except to sleep, and I expect I could of got anything I asked the wardens for from one of them broiled lobster and kidney stew suppers you read about to a fox terrier and a handkerchief with my initials on it, or any other last request, the same as a regular victim. I was watched so careful I didn't even get a chance to send a telegram to myself calling me home, which I had fully intended for more reasons than one. Every time I tried some attentive person was there to offer to do it for me. If I even attempted to post a letter it was snatched away from me. I never had so many friends all in one spot in my entire life before, nor felt so lonesome and friendless. And all the wile I had to keep up a outward pretense of enthusiasm. Before Thursday noon the crowd apply- ing for tickets on the strength of my prom- ised appearance was so big that they had to give up having the show in the hotel ball- room and hire the town hall, and by Friday night that was about sold out, and it was a big hall which accommodated the New England Firemen’s Convention every year and the regular picture show twice a week in summer. And our show was to be some show, Mabel, believe me! It was scheduled to start off with a violin act by a fifteen-year-old girl whose parents had ought to of known better, followed by my young yachting friend and three other Alma Materialists who felt they had the Star City Quartette backed off the map. And, believe me, they would of if the Star City bunch was ever to of heard them! Then Mrs. Wainsworth’s chum, Mrs. Eville, a double portion of refined woman- hood, was to recite from a book called Alice in Wonderland—unless the police inter- fered. After which all the little ones staying in the hotel was to line up in white suits and dresses and inflict A Birdie With a Yellow Bill upon a audience which might of been supposed to have already suffered enough—and then I was due! Oh, I was due all right! And how did I feel about it? You can't tell her, liquor you've got no license! Like the horridly efficient Heinie that he was, that orchestra leader had actually fished up The San Francisco Doll, and some of the charitable ladies had rigged a costume that would show just enough of my legs to be too much, modest though it was. They hadn't let me lift a finger or go to the least trouble—the nasty things! I was all set—not a doubt of it! But what to do--oh, what to do! And all this time not a glimpse of Mr. J. Liv- ingston Smith, except once when he brought up some passengers from the depot, and then I wouldn't look at him, though I could positively feel him looking EVENING POST at me, surrounded as I was by a gay, ad- miring throng and giving a hollow but convincing imitation of enjoying it. his was Friday evening. Saturday morning I woke up with one of them dull little headaches —you know the kind that usually goes with a dull little head. The phone was ringing, and I got up and went to it feeling just about as gay as a under- taker in a healthy locality. “Hello!” says a he voice. “Is this Miss La Tour?” “Yes,” I says for the first time, on my word, Mabel, although they had been slip- ping me that title fairly often. “Tt is not!” says the voice. “‘And that is just what I’ve called up about!” Say listen, Mabel, my heart nearly stopped beating when I heard that. “What d’you mean?” I gasped. “TI mean that this is the chief of police speaking, Miss O’ Donnell, and that imper- sonation is a very serious matter. Now I don't want to make you any more trouble than is necessary. That’s why I am tele- phoning instead of coming up to the hotel. A word to the wise ought to be enough. Of course I know you are billed under your own name, but the fraud is perfectly under- stood just the same. In fact, one set of tickets says ‘La Tour’ on them. Now you just skip out of town before to-night and we will let the matter drop. Otherwise we will be obliged to take some action. That is all. Good-by.” “Thank you, captain!” I managed to gasp. And then I hung up, my hands as cold and damp as a pair of raw oysters. My Lord, Mabel, but I was scared! I made a dive for the time-table I had brought with me, and there I got the second jolt of the day. This here Narrataskett was one of them restful places where you don’t have to keep thinking about trains all the time, and to make that easier they just simply don’t have any trains—that is, not to speak of. The morning one was already gone, and the evening one wouldn’t be ready to go until after the hour scheduled for my public appearance. It looked like I was trapped. Beiieve me, Mabel, I did some quick thinking! There was no use in me staying and spraining my ankle because there was a first-class doctor on the program com- mittee, and if I really sprained it I would have to pay another week’s board, which was out of the question. I had to get out, and get out quickly and quietly, and that was all there was to it. Well, my bill had come up with my coffee, because I couldn't stand the strain and asked for it, saying I always paid on Saturdays, because, Mabel, I felt I would rather die of the shock than of prolonged suspense. And it was one hundred and fifty dollars, Mabel, not to mentiogtips! Three fifty-dollar Liberty Bonds with ac- cumulated interest! So, anyways, that trouble was fixed. I could settle up, but how could I get out—that is, without the bunch spotting me and making a fuss and maybe forcing a show-down? I couldn’t of stood that, not on a bet, I couldn't. Why, maybe one of them—Mrs. Wains- worth, for choice—would have me arrested on the spot in the middle of the lobby. No, Mabel, I couldn’t stand it. There was only one desperate thing to do and I done it. I went to the telephone. “Is there any other garage here except Smith’s?”’ I says. October 9, 1920 “No, miss,”’ says the operator. I give a inward groan. “ All right, give me Smith’s,” I says, and waited. Say listen, Mabel, my whole insides felt like they was melted by then, and I will say it was awful good to hear his voice, though I didn’t recognize it until he told me it was him. Then it changed—sort of tender it got, and, believe me, Mabel, I actually clung to that sound if you see what I mean, dear. “Mr. Smith—I’m in trouble,” I says, having a hard time not to cry. “My— my mother is ill and needs me. I got to get away quick. And—and I want to go by the back door. Could you meet me there in about twenty minutes without mentioning it to a soul?” I says. “Why, certainly!”’ he says. “I'll drive you myself. The back door it is!” And listen, Mabel, he didn’t seem a bit surprised or ask any questions or anything. Only made me feel very much better and that I had a friend. Well, you ought to of seen me pack. It was a whirlwind. Then I put the money for my bill in a envelope and sealed it and addressed it to the management and put it on the mantel. Then I rung for a boy, and fortunately it was the one which was so stuck on me, “Say listen, Cupid,” I says. “I’m sneaking out to rehearsal and don’t want a soul to know it, see? Can you take these bags and get me down to the back door without us bumping into any crowds?” “Can I?” he says, grinning. “Why, I can do anything for you, Miss La Tour!” “Don’t call me that!” I snapped, look- ing instinctively over my shoulder to see was a cop listening. ‘‘Come on, let’s go!” And there at the back door was that lovely Mr. Smith, as per our agreement. He never asked a word of me, only helped me and my bags as well into his high- powered car and drove off. “Where do you want to go?” he says. “To a farm,” I says. “A lovely place called Rocky Corners, about ten miles from here.” “All right, I know where it is,”’ he says. And then off we started in silence except for the engine. Oh, Mabel, I felt so safe and comfortable and relieved, you can’t imagine, even if my pride was in my pocket! That’s a good place for pride, I guess—where you can get at it if you need it, but where it ain’t in the way. And after we was well out of town J. Livingston drew up and parked the car in a lovely, lonesome wooded place. Then he turned to me and says, “‘I was the chief of police,” he says. “You was—you were!’’ I gasped. “And I really am!” he says, flashing his badge. “I hate people who pretend to be what they are not!” “You—you ——” I commenced, and then I couldn’t get no further, because I broke right down and cried. The chief of police was real kind, though. He drew my head down onto his shoulder and left me have it out. “There girlie, cry away,” he says. “‘It’ll do you good. I saw you were in a tight place and I wanted to get you out. Out of the whole damn’, nonsensical pretense of such a place—wanted you where we could talk—get to know each other like two natural human beings. I admit I misled you that day in my car—let you believe I was what my clothes made me. Somehow, nowadays about everybody seems to be pretending. It’s a crazy age—all fancy outside and nothing real inside us, unless we struggle hard to keep our souls. I think I understand, dear, what it was you fell for—a mistaken wish to be better than you are, when all the time your true self is as good as anybody. We've got to relearn, dear, that clothes and cars and pretense don’t make real men and women.” “Oh, Liv,” I snuffled, “I know you said a mouthful! But I got caught somehow in a regular tangle. I guess I was trying to be something that I wasn’t when I went to that hotel in the first place. And before I knew it I was in deep.” “Well, you’re out now,” he says. “And you're going to spend your second week back on the farm—that will straighten you out. And I'll come up there a lot if you'll let, me.’ ‘Come up all you want to!” I says, sit- ting up and recovering sense enough to powder my nose. “I won't protest.” And say listen, Mabel, he’ll be up to- night. AmI happy? Well, you complain, mule, you've got the kick!

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114 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST October 9, 1920 Supreme Margarine

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST melt intoahotbaked potato. That’sasure test for the flavor of any spread, isn’t it? When you try Morris Supreme Mar- garine this way you will know why so many tamilies useit regularlyas aspread as well as for cooking and baking. It’s delicious and wholesome. Only the purest ingredients go into its manutac- ture; freshly pasteurized milk adds to its delicate flavor. Morris Supreme Margarine comes to you fresh. Six large factories prepare it every day. The yellow and black Morris package and that famous Morris mark of goodness—Supreme—will help you recognize this margarine at your dealer’s. MORRIS & COMPANY Packer j and Pro {sion - 115 RRIS. 0) ohad hatha. Leta good, big piece

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check. But ou fellows have got I reckon y your side, I ain't heard nothin’ except what Pat Blaine tells me; and Timmons, on Forty-six. You're strikin’ for more pay, I reckon,” This was Joseph G.’s opportunity. He was a good talker, and with the insouciant conceit of youth he knew it very well. He had enjoyed haranguing the Dilloways and Fritzie Kahn before Mrs. Varney developed that sudden icy eye. He t sat forward in his « and emphasized his re marks with a practiced weeping of one uncal loused palm other More pay? We're triking for a chance to live! Not just to exis like animals! Why, do you know there were married men in my office working for a hundred and eighty a month? And keeping families!” ‘Yeah.” Old D.G smoothed out his beard Joseph G. remem bered with sudden dis- may that Warner's semimonthly pay check ealled for sixty-two fifty; a hundred and twenty-five a month It was absurd, of course But the man was old And he himself declared that he had no griev ance ‘Yeah,”” commented the old man again, “I reckon you're right. I ain't competent tojudge such things. When I was a young feller like you I worked for thirty five a month, walkin’ track and inspectin’ bridges. We got along pretty good Davy’ mother and me saved a little along to give Davy an education,” “But that was differ ent,” argued Joseph G “Compare the cost of everything then with what a man has to spend now ws hair over the “He has to spend now—that’s right Them days we didn't have to spend for silk shirts. My wife made mine out of black-and white striped calico in summerand gray flannel in winter. And one pair of corduroy breeches done me a year with a little patchin’ in spots.”” Joseph G. felt vaguely uncomfortable rhe conversation had drifted out of the depths where THE SATURDAY EVENING POST MARSH LIGHT (Continued from Page 17) the floor rapped hollowly underfoot. Two windows looked out on the red crawling current where it lay between its unshaded banks, as flat and unbeautiful as a clay road. A stove so tiny that a teakettle and waffle iron occupied the whole top of it stood in a corner, with a soap-box cupboard pa- pered with wall paper hung above it towel, untied her apron and sat down Across the table with its grouping of glass butter dish, mustard jar nd blue china spoon holder Joseph G. observed her. She was not exactly pretty, being a bit too still and dark, but there was something glowing about her that gave her the look of a flower poised on its stem. Her dress was a plain blue cotton, a bit washed out, with a cheap October 9,1920 once he caught her eyes straying toward it and discovered that they were lingering in the hot kitchen from politeness. He edged back his chair, and old D. G. lumbered up and scrubbed the warm beads from his forehead. “Have to look her over again,” observed the old man as he took down his hat. “Want to come along, Hicks?” Joseph G. trailed after him across the dizzy ms | ih : height of the bridge. He watched old D. G. stoop and examine the draw, striking the steel plates with ahammer, tapping experimentally on a doubtful spike. Hewas not particularly inter- ested. He had noted a photograph on a shelf in the little parlor, framed. It was a pic- ture of a young fellow that he knew, a chap in the maintenance-of- way department of the P. & B.—a lean work- hound who chased up and down the main line at all sorts of unearthly hours on-his yapping little motor car. A fel- low not particularly popular in the offices, where their creed had been reasonableness in all things, particularly in overtime— named Lewis. As he tramped down the muddy bank after old D. G. young Hicks found himself wondering what Lewis’ photograph was doing there, framed? Old D. G. inspected the absurd little engine that ma- nipulated the draw, oiled it and wiped it, and with a stubby broom swept the con- crete floor clean about it. Joseph G. watched him with something faintly like pity. Such futile potterings seemed to his impatient young spirit pathetically ab- surd. Two trains a day passed over that bridge. Yet old D. G. fussed over it as though a score of magnificent steel Pullmans would tread its iron path be- fore morning. “How many boats come up here?”’ heasked . 1. The old man seratched his head. “Oh, once in a while one comes up,” he said, “*The Savannah, she goes down and back his stroke counted, and was wading amiry back water where he could not see bottom. He felt on the defensive, though he could not explain the feeling. There was nothing ag- gressive about old D. G., no lurking accusa- tion in his eyes, no sermonizing in his speech. Nor did he note any antagonism in the manner of Davy when she came in to announce supper. She looked faintly surprised at seeing him, but her father’s explanation satisfied her “This is Mr. Hicks, volunteered old D. G stay with us to-night waffles fried?” The girl looked at Joseph G. with those level eyes and gave him a greeting, faintly cool but quite courteous “IT made plenty of batter,”’ she said They went into the house, and Joseph G. registered an impression of cleanness and coolness, of shabbiness made beautiful somehow, and of an atmosphere of homely comfort that glorified the faded strips of worn wool carpet, the clean paintless floors, the shabby old chairs with sagging seats. The supper was spread in the kitchen. The from the office,” ‘I asked him to You got plenty of room was small, hung over the river so that Joseph G Nad Never Refore Eaten Waffies, Fresh and Dimpted and Crackling Hot. The Waffles of His Experience Had Been Damp, Tough and Tenucus as Wet Washrags The table was so small that when old D. G. sat down and thrust his legs under it he appeared to be holding it on his lap. Joseph G. found it necessary to sit sideways. The meal was simple—waffles with melted jelly, a small fish fried brown and crisp, cold hominy and coffee with tinned milk. Davy Warner did not sit down. She stood beside the stove, pouring out the coffee and turning the smoking waffle iron. Old D. G. ate in silence. Joseph G. had never before eaten waffles, fresh and dimpled and crackling hot. The waffles of his experience had been damp, tough and tenuous as wet washrags. On the other hand he had never before eaten cold hom- iny from an ironstone plate, at the evening meal— though they did still call it supper at Mrs. Varney’s. That had been one thing inciting him into the strike, more money so that he could choose a better place to live; shower baths and dinner at night and the bed turned down. When the last waffle came out of the iron Davy gave her warm face a pat with a little lace collar at the throat. Her shoes were broken across the toes. But some- thing about her—something in the way she used her hands, something that lay in her eyes—went beyond the green and lavender rim of the marshes and the encompassing loneliness of the sea, and laid hold of life as Joseph G. knew it. He thought he read hunger in her look, and immediately his mind leaped back to the city, to dances and bands playing, to parks cool and dim and full of trysting nooks where girls like Davy wore floppy pink hats and little ribboned slippers and had nails curved and frail and polished as shells. He talked blithely about these things as he knew them. Old D. G. blinked through his ambush and said “Yeah.” But Davy said nothing. At times she lifted her eyes and looked straight across Joseph G., through the window where evening was falling like purple smoke over the marsh. But if she was stirred by the pictures Joseph G. painted she gave no sign. Dish- water boiled on the stove in a tin pan and every Sunday. She’s a side wheeler, pulls mighty near all the water in the river. We get a tug, say, once a week, and the govern- ment dredge. Cotton time they pole barges down. They take the bridge with- out turning. She’s built high—thirty-three feet from low water.” “And how many hours do you work?” “Hours?” he laughed fuzzily through his beard. “I don’t know much about hours. My watch ain’t kept good time since I went fishing last fall and my boat swamped under me. I look her over in the morning, and after that regular all day. If a tug comes up in the middle of the night I get up and let her through. I paint every- thing up good once a year and keep the fire barrels full. But I don’t keep no count of my hours.” ‘That's the trouble,”’ declared Joseph G. confidently. “It’s men like you that pamper the company—spoil ‘em, make “em think they can buy men, soul and body, for a little money and a pass once in a while, and the promise of a pension. Here you are, working for practically nothing— putting in your whole life as Conctuded on Page 119)

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 117 eee where will you be? Do you know why it’s easier today for you to make more money than you have ever earned before? Simply because the demand for men exceeds the supply. Men everywhere, of all kinds and descriptions, have been on the high tide of prosperity and earnings. But, just as surely as the tide rises, it falls—low tide is coming. And when there are more men available than there are positions to fill, down go earnings—competition for mere day wages begins. The ocean of humanity rises on the tide of good times and falls on the depression of demand for man power. But, among the sea of helpless ones, a few men stand like rocks in the ocean—unaffected by changing tides or times. These men are made invincible by one thing —training. For—good times or bad—the trained man’s services are always in demand at salary figures ‘way above the average. That is the foundation upon which the work of LaSalle Extension University is built. Through this institution, men turn their spare hours into permanent increases in earning power. They can become ac- countants—trafhe managers—ofhice managers—business executives attorneys—acquire the training necessary to lift them from the ranks to the highly paid specialist class. LaSalle training comes through the mails and turns spare hours— ordinarily waste time—into increased earning power. And through the LaSalle problem method of instruction, which gives concrete applica- tions to real business problems right along with bed rock fundamentals, the LaSalle trained man is a practical man from start to finish. For three months we kept track of letters received from LaSalle Low Tide Is Coming! men as to definite benefits derived. Two thousand and ninety-seven communications were received. Now listen: All these letters—2,097 of them—were expressions voicing progress and satisfaction; |,129 told of bigger opportunities already in sight and promotion assured ; 968 letters definitely reported important promotions and salary increases. The combined earnings of these 968 students at the commencement of their training was $1 ,234,200.00; their present annual carnings average around $1 ,807,256.00—an annual increase, which they attribute directly to LaSalle, of nearly six hundred thousand dollars And—our records show that over five hundred of these students were not one-half way through their LaSalle work when they wrote. These men are rendering themselves immune to the fluctuating wage scale of the masses—they are acquiring business power which shows itself in actual cash in their pay check. Now—what are you doing? And—what are you going to do? The tide of your earnings is up. Now is the time to take up LaSalle work —to make yourself a trained man—so that when low tide comes and most men are fighting for a bare existence, you will be un affected —secure in an ever-growing, highly specialized ec arning position. That's the best advice you ever received. There's a coupon below for the man who believes that what he does Today shapes his Tomorrows. President LaSalle kextension University, of Chicago, Illinois LaSalle Extension University The Largest Business Training Institution in the World men thru LaSalle training. Employers: Fe than 225,000 men have become bigger, broader-gauged =very year this institution equips 50,000 men with the specialized knowledge that makes execu tives. Reports come daily of their progress — of salary increases, in some cases as high as 400 per cent, earned thru the training which these men themselves trace directly to LaSalle. This opportunity is yours——as it was theirs. You can use your leisure time, as they have done, to fit yourself for more responsible, MERELY MARK AND MAIL THE COUPON—GET THE FACTS—THEN DECIDE n't be satisfied to remain subject to the tragedy of unemployment better paid work. You can hold your present position while pre- paring for one far ahead of your present experience and ability ‘e offer also to men already holding executive positions the exact character of training best suited to their particular need, whether that need be of a highly specialized character or a broad training in fundamental business principles and practices. Thou sands of executives have rounded out their qualifications and have forged ahead quickly to bigger success thru LaSalle service Mark X in the square opposite course you want to know about. Another Look for this Button The man who wears a LaSalle button is well worth watching. He is preparing for higher responsi- bility —he has already proved that he is alert, aggres sive, decisive—a man to meet situations squarely, to see their possibilities, to act upon them. From 50 tu 2,000 or more students and graduates can be found with many of the largest corporations such as Standard Oil Co., Pennsylvania R. R., Ford Motor Co., International Harvester Co., U. S. Steel, Swift & Co., etc. The Right Man for the Job Large business Se erp and industries thru- out the United States are availing themselves of the free service of the LaSalle Placement Bureau to reach high-grade men of experience plus train- ing. We may {= able to put you in touc with the right man for the job if you'll write us. Low tide holds no penalty for the trained man. The successful man never hesitates once he seeo his opportunity. ‘lo decide with him is to ACT. Right ; now — with the coupon before you — pick out the course in which you are interested the facts. Don't put it off —Do it now ee — — — ——— — INQUIRY COUPON — — — — — — LaSALLE EXTENSION UNIVERSITY, Dept. 107!-R ] HIGHER ACCOUNTANCY: Training for | | BUSINESS ADMINISTRATION: | Trainin, moment and you have the coupon signed and mailed. Today is the time to get Chicago, IL INDUSTRIAL MANAGE EE EFFIC ape | — positions as Auditors, Comptrollers, Public Ac- for Oimeial, Manageria S and Eixe ‘ . CY: raining to ud anage ' | countants, Cost Accountants, et tion partment Heads = ll those desiring C) eee MANAGEMENT—FOREIGN Ae BANKING AND FRMANCE : Training fe t n the 48 factors of ye eeent | me ESTIC: Training for positions as . xecutive px. and kis | LAW: Training for Bar; LL.B. Degree a and Industrial Traffic Managers, et« Instituti EFFECTIVE PUBLIC SPEAKING ; Tr a | | snd Consultation Service for Business Men [7] BUSINESS MComespondente, Mail Sales Di. jsters, Sulesinen, Fraternal Leaders, Pulitican | | |) EXPERT BOOKKEEPING: Training for po; rectors and executive letter-writing positior r ’ sition of Head Bookkeeper. COMMERCIAL SPANISH: Training for P. A. COAC NG FOR ADVANC ED | [ ) BUSINESS ENGLISH: Training for Business po ition is Correspondents with ACCOUNTANT I for | — Correspondents and Copy Writers Spanish-spe Wm countries ; t - Examinations, | Name Present Position Adare oe UTUTUTUIIIUIUILIIIUILIMIULLLI MMM LOU KULLU

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o oF ———___—_—___— THE SATURDAY EVENING POST For us there is more than common significance in the praise which LaFayverre has had from owners. Because these owners, almost with- out exception, have previously owned and driven a long succession of good cars. Confident in our ability to produce an eminently fine motor car, we set forth to embody our ideals in LAFAYETTE. Conscious of our responsibility, we proceeded with infinite care, check- ing each step with the truest engi neering p ract ice. The first completed cars were driven until we were satisfied that Lakayerre performance and reli- ability were of the highest character. When we were sure that by con- sequence of its engineering Ae Faverre would command rank LAFAYETTE MOTORS among the world’s best cars, we sent it forth to ownership. We were sure our work had been well done. Automotive experts without number had viewed the car and given it their unreserved approval. Yet we were eager that the public place its appraisal on LaFayerre. The public now has done so, and the desire for possession among those of long experience with fine cars has conclusively established the excellence of our work. In commenting on LaFayerre, some dwell upon its low, powerful appearance and some upon the unusual quality of its behavior. Others marvel at its solid lightness or at its sheer simplicity of design. But all have spoken of its splendid engineering, attributing chiefly thereto their desire for ownership. aK IXP — reed ) / ' ier j peeks a ans LAIN T i 27S fi INDIA F )- . October 9,1920

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SSE (Concluded from Page 116) “Yeah,” old D. G. assented mildly, “I’ve worked for. the P. & B. going on thirty years now.’ “And what have you got to show for those years?” persisted Hicks. “All the best of your life gone—for what?” “Well, I ain’t got much, that’s fact. I got a little money laid up, and a clear con- science, and a good name. And Davy. That’s about all.” “That’s it,” clinched Joseph G. “‘ You've got a daughter. And she ought to have a chance. Education, friends—life!” “You tell her that, Hicks,” suggested the old man without guile. “I’ve argued with her off and on ever sence she come home from that New York college. But as I told you, Davy’s cur’us.” Joseph G. smiled, the patronizing young smile of an affable god out of a machine. He stood up and smoothed back his hair. If he could bring life into this desolate remoteness, touch with a quickening finger the apathetic soul of this girl, whose exist- ence to his mind was little better than that of a pulpy fungus on a rotting log, he would not question again the impulse which had put him aboard Pat Blaine’s foolish little train. Joseph G. believed in fate. He was quite willing to be an instrument of it, if the in- strumentality dealt with the redemption of black-eyed young ladies, going stubbornly to waste in a marshy wilderness. There was the splash of a paddle and Davy Warner guided a slender canoe from under the bridge. ‘“‘I reckon Davy’s going afterthemilk,”’ remarked old D.G. ‘“‘ Here— Davy! Take this young man aboard. He’s sort of restless out here in the bushes!” He did not raise his voice, but Joseph G. observed that even faint sounds carried clearly over the water, for the girl obediently headed inshore, driving the canoe with a single deft stroke of the paddle. “You'll have to sit in the bottom and not move,” she warned him as he climbed into the bow. “These little boats are tricky. Can youswim?” Joseph G. was grateful for the Y. pool which enabled him to nod an unconcerned affirmative. He had a brief vision in which he saw himself wresting the girl from the grasp of the muddy river, with Maintenance- of-Way Lewis standing chagrined on the shore. But as he watched the perfect movements of her wrists and the way she drove the bow in a strong straight line through the current he reflected dubiously that most likely it would be Davy who would swim calmly to the bank in ease of accident, dragging him by his forelock. He sat very still in the bow and hazarded nothing. He looked at Davy, wishing that something would waken her, stir the still- ness about her which was almost sullen. She was good to look at, quenched and muted asshewas. Kindled, she would be a beauty. “Tired?”’ he inquired politely. She looked faintly amazed. ‘‘Certainly not,”” she answered. “Tt’s hard work, current.” “Oh, anything is hard work if you make hard work out of it!’’ she annihilated him calmly. “That's what’s wrong with the world.” “Something’s wrong with it, that’s sure,”’ commented Joseph G. He was thinking of the wrong that mured a girl like this in a yellow bird house, hung over a desolate river, warping her until she was so deluded as to frame the photograph of a lean slave driver like Maintenance-of-Way Lewis. “The wrong is that everybody is afraid of work.”’ She headed the canoe deftly into a narrowed channel. The banks were firmer, grassy, shaded with trees whose shadow was night-black. Ahead was the wink of a light and the outline of a white cottage hid in dusky trees. ‘ Quarantine,” she explained, answering his inquiring look. “I come up here every night for milk. It soured to-day; that’s why I hadn’t any for supper. Suddenly across the width of a sandy bar of land the sea lay before them, mys- terious, citron-hued, holding lovingly the last light of the sky. pulling against this For a moment Joseph G. forgot his mis- sion, which was to purge the benighted dark from the soul of Davy Warner, in the strange and wistful loneliness that came over him. He felt suddenly solitary and rather young, as he felt sometimes when he heard sad music. The canoe drifted against the little dock, but Davy did not move. She sat silent, holding a post to keep the boat steady, her eye lost in the opal sky line where night came down like purple rain. Joseph G. endured the silence of her ig- noring for an aching minute, then he leaped out, laughing, and held out his hand. “It makes me feel like that too,”’ he said. “‘Like—praying?”’ There was a touch of warmth in her voice and she let him help her out, so that Joseph G. was tempted to hold her fingers an instant too long. “Lonesome, anyway,” he confessed; “as though nobody cared—very much.” “This is the path.” Her voice cooled instantly to its old crispness. And though they paddled back through a blackness warm and intimate and loverly, with the river whispering that restless poetry which water holds of nights, Joseph G. could not summon again that brief warmth, that thrill when her fingers had lain against his palm and his hands had steadied her on the treacherous plank. He held the bucket of milk carefully and sank momentarily deeper into gloom. He knew how much he wanted that moment back, wanted Davy to look at him with some- thing more than cool tolerance in her eyes. His gloom was not lessened by the faintly distant bark of a track motor cycle as they came near the bridge. Davy sat up and listened. “We have company,” “Father will be glad. out here for him.” “And isn’t it ever lonely for you?” in- quired Joseph G. as they padlocked the boat and climbed the muddy embankment under the bridge. “Never.” She looked at him very straight. Joseph G. was never able to decide whether she was laughing at him or not. But he got what comfort he could from the certainty that she wasn’t pining for Maintenance-of- Way Lewis. Or did that efficient young man come so often that she got no chance to be lonely? Hardly, since old D. G. had declared that he had not had a visitor since the bridge inspector. As he expected, they found Lewis on the porch, briskly a old D. G. Warner. Joseph G. was grateful for the bucket of milk. It gave him an intimate and informal air, a bosom-of-the-family as- pect. He exulted too in the look Lewis gave him, a what-the-devil-are-you-doing- here look. He noted that Lewis said “‘ Miss Warner.” Joseph G. found a seat next to old D. G. and guilefully passed the old man his tin of tobacco. When old D. G. called him “‘son”’ he glowed with gratification. Lewis began to talk about the strike, but curiously Joseph G. did not care. With that warm place thrilling in the palm of his hand he had somehow risen above the triviality of the strike. It looked infinitely foolish, viewed from this new perspective, a thing for a strong man to be ashamed of. “You're still out, I suppose?” Lewis’ voice had a trace of a sneer in it. It was that kind of voice. ‘“‘You fellows in the office make me sick! You spend eight hours a day dawdling over your paper work and yelling for more money, and yet if there’s a chance to get a half day off you dig in and do a whole day’s work in two hours and have half an hour left to sharpen pencils in. You spend your money before you get it—and then you holler about thrift and production and the oppression of labor and wonder what’s wrong with the country!’ Joseph G. had visioned the truth of all this. But it was not the vrackling sputter of Lewis’ cocksure wisdom that had shown it to him, but the sti!l searching of Davy Warner’s eyes. “7 m not bothering much strike,’”’ he said very ci usually. she said quietly. It’s rather lonely about the “T’'m figur- No more I’m going to work ing on getting a man’s-size job. stool polishing for me. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST to-morrow—driving the express truck! Going to wrestle ice-cream freezers and crates of cabbage, and work like the deuce. Some day I’ll be president of the company. Mind if I ride back with you on your little yap wagon, Lewis? I want to get on the job early in the morning.’ No one was more amazed at this speech than Joseph G. himself, once it was out. He sat very still, burning a little in the dark, his fingers cold as ice. But his jaw was set “T'll show her!” His youthful spirit made wordless boast. “I'll show her one man who isn’t afraid of work!” It was a month before Joseph G. came back yeh pang ve Bridge. He rode on Pat Blaine’s foolish little train and sat in the front coach all the way out, talking to fiery little Pat, discussing chiefly the why and the how of the whine and the howl. In the main they agreed on the trouble abroad i in the land. “T’ll tell you”—Joseph G. emphasized his remarks with a hand a bit horny and brown, which had not known a manicure in many a long day—“most people are so dog-gone afrsid o work! Everybody wants an easy sit-down job, stretching two hours’ work over eight. They spend their pay before they get it for things they don't need. Nobody saves a cent — “Uh-huh!” Pat Blaine spat expertly into the marsh water. “I been preaching that gospel a long time. How much money you got saved up, son?” Joseph G. reddened and grinned. “I've got some, anyway,” he said. “And I’m going to have some more.’ He showed his little red bank book to old D. G. Warner as they sat on the doorstep of the little engine house below the bridge. The four tens in it did not make a colossal column, but they represented many things— things Joseph G. desired and was accus- tomed to have, things he had done bravely without, things like dances and silk socks and topaz scarfpins. “Yeah,” was old D. G.’s comment. “A man can get along if he wants to. Things don’t count so much when you look at it right. Spendin’s a habit—same as mor- phine. Ain’t many of ‘em trying to cure themselves, either, these times.” He leaned his long forearms on his great knees and dragged his length of seaweedy whisk- ers back. ‘There goes Davy after the milk. I git uneasy; her going up that inlet all alone in the dark.” But Davy did not go alone. Sound car- ries far across the water, and it is likely that the hollow kettle-drumming of Joseph G.’s young heart reached the girl's relenting ears. At any rate she shot the canoe in deftly and beached the bow neatly between Joseph G.’s slightly scuffed tan shoes. “Get in,” she invited briefly. “‘Sit in the bottom and don’t move. And—you hold the bucket.” She did not have on the dingy blue cot- ton dress. She wore something pink, vaguely fluffy, and her hair lay above her brows in a smooth shining braid with a little curl straying down in front of her ear. The lonely twilight of the marsh lay in her eyes like a purple mist, softening them. She seemed somehow awakened, glowing, young, and very dear. Joseph G. swallowed a hindering lump a dozen times before the canoe drifted against the little dock at Quarantine, but he did not speak. Davy was silent too. But at the dock he leaped out and held out his hands—both hands. There was no avoiding them. Davy gave him her brown strong little fingers, but his hands, with the calluses and the blisters on them, found her arms and her shoulders with the frills of pink about them. She was a little thing, not terrifying when her black eyes were cast down, and Joseph G. was a male, dominant, prevailing by the power of the red blood that was in him, by the strength of a right arm schooled in battles with ice- cream freezers and crates of cabbage. He kissed Davy Warner, rather suddenly, on the little curl that hung in front of her ear “Look here,” we go back—I’m canoe!” he stated sternly, “when going to paddle the Va il ar aT CROMPTON MAl-Weather CORDUROY Resists Water | Trousers made of this material are always strong and du- rable — soft and comfortable. CROMPTON “‘All- weather’ CORDU- ROY will not stiffen shrink or lose its color even if you get it wet. Send for free test sample of this new kind of Corduroy. Sprinkle it watch the roll off just and water like quicksilver. & CROMPTON . 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120 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST October 9,1920 FIRST- Miss Shepherd sang “In the Gloaming.”” The New Edison stood on the stage by her side. I6£ ig ( NE hundred and eighty-five times, Miss : Betsy Lane Shepherd has stood on a public 3 concert platform, and sung the old heart-songs 1g with all the exquisite fervor of her art. One hundred and eighty-five times, a New Edison has >: stood by her side, and brought her Re-CrREeEATED Ig voice into direct comparison with her living voice. One hundred and eighty-five times, her audience >: has found no difference between the two voices, iS either in quality, or in feeling, or in emotional | influence. is AT Dallas, Texas, on April 26, 1920, Miss 1g A Shepherd, who is a famous concert soprano, | >: stood before her 185thaudience.Shestarted tosing: 1S **In the gloaming, oh! my darling—"’ >: With a soft, rounded loveliness, the beloved 1S melody filled the auditorium. Pulsing through its theme was the soul of a great artist. Its message S) 9% NEW EDISON NN The Phonograph with a Soul times — reached the heartsof the hushed listeners, and sped their imaginations back to cherished memories. It was the magic of music ! Suddenly Miss Shepherd’s lips went absolutely still. But her lovely voice went smoothly on **__ it was best to leave you thus —”’ The audience was puzzled. Then it awoke. Miss Shepherd’s voice was now coming from the New Edison. For the 185th time, an audience had heard the Betsy Lane Shepherd test—and had been unable to tell the difference between her liv- ing voice and her Re-CREATED Voice. More than 4000 other audiences have heard more than fifty other vocalists and instrumentalists make this same test of direct comparison. Not one of these 4000 andiences was able to distin- guish between the artist’s original performance and its Re-CrREATION by the New Edison. {

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= ti A encais WRR ONE a NREL BT ERE he Ls SL a _ baad e (% ¢, Ke a ia R. EDISON spent seven years and three million dollars in bringing the New Edison to this perfect realism. How he was led to con- centrate upon realism was recently told by Mr. Edison himself, in a statement entitled ‘Ten Years Hence.” “The ordinary phonograph, as we have known it, falls somewhat short of conferring upon its owner all of the pleasure and benefits that can be derived from good music. The greatest shortcoming of the phonograph was its lack of realism, and it is this shortcoming which I have sought to over- come. The result is a degree of realism in our present phonograph which is baffling to even the most expert ears.” And Mr. Edison goes on to reveal the inspired purpose which the New Edison, through its re- alism, is to serve. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ert 4 THEN— tinued it alone. no difference! “TI have been quoted as desiring to see a phono- What I actually want to see in every American home is music, so graph in every American home. realistic and so perfect in its rendition as to be an unending source of benefit and pleasure.” Gronin Edison dealer has arranged an ex- tremely interesting test for you. Go and ask for the “Personal Favorites” Realism Test. He will have the New Edison Re-Creare the kind of voeal or instrumental music which affects your emotions most keenly. You will thus be able to determine for yourself if the New Edison brings you all the emotional pleasure and mental stimulation which come from listening to the living artist. THOMAS A. EDISON, INC., Orange, N. J. She suddenly stopped singing. The New Edison took up her song and con- The NEW EDISON “She Phonograph with a Soul > wat CAN aye= ‘Y aN Wi Ze ENT ENE NZ Ww. ae. SZ TZN ZONE ZNO UL ee a WY. iN

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produce those perfect products of wealth and leisure millions drudged. Most of the well-being was at the > . To-day those splendid mirrors of fashion are not so conspicuous, perhaps because the rest of the population has moved . There has evidently been a considerable distribution of the good things of life, and the more conservative English newspapers now and again break into a profuse per- spiration because of the discovery that a mere laborer—arrested for intoxication or fighting or some other pleasantry—is in possession of forty or fifty pounds with which to pay his fine. Isn't it dreadful he should have that money? And their horror knows no bounds at the shocking behavior of the miners and workers in industrial towns associated with mining and the wool trade—the blighters can actually afford ham at eight shillings the THE SATURDAY EVENING POST WATCHDOG OF THE WORLD (Continued from Page 7) decade. She is far behind newer countries along these lines; she could learn a lot from Canada and Australia. Work has never been the pet ambition of Englishmen. They accept it as a painful necessity, to be drop the instant the means to idle are acquired. The English- man goes after a fortune that he may re- tire and take it easy, whereas our business men stay in harness long after they have amassed fortunes from sheer love of the game. Which is the saner method for the individual is a debatable point, but there is no doubt as to which brings the best re- sult to industry and the country. Despite the lapse of years, the tele- phone remains a thing of dread over here, not to be used lightly. In fact it cannot be used lightly; one is lucky if he can get any use out of it at all. It has not yet begun to suspicious of the new and surrenders to its pressure with reluctance. His hands are tied by tradition and precedent. Indeed he often prides himself on being old-fashioned, thereby making a virtue of a shortcoming. I have heard many a set old leatherhead whose mental processes were fifty years behind modern thought exclaim with flushed self-satisfaction: ‘No, sir, I am old-fashioned! What was good enough for my father is good enough for me.” My expectations were that I should find an England reborn. From the welter of war, in which strange new forces were loosed and men’s minds directed along new channels, it seemed impossible that the old order should emerge victorious. But that is just what has happened. What of the loudly heralded new spirit of democracy that was going to wipe out privilege and government by class and bring the millen- pound, and enjoy new pota- toes and Yorkshire cream, luxuries considered beyond the means of the middle classes. What the mischief is the world coming to? To me it is a blessed change, and for Britain's good. The English are a he-race if ever there was one. Their whole social system and mode of living were modeled with an eye to the comfort and convenience of the lordly male. Women eomueeee a distinctly secondary place, as far removed from a partner- ship basis as is the feminine domination so frequently met with in the United States. She had no political status, her condition eco nomically was tragic, and if we except the upper classes, where Coe influence has always been powerful, she had to take a back seat in the social relations. The re sult was that she came to look up to the male as a su perior being. Personally I'm strong for this attitude, but at the same time I can see its drawbacks. Under it the majority of women occu pied a position hardly more dignified than household chattels. In the past we have all seen the type of English woman who was thrown into a flutter and began to twit ter at the approach of Na ture’s noblest work. Indeed she was the usual type nium to Britain? What of the position of labor, which discovered its strength when all depended on its support and seemed in position to establish its foothold as the dominant force in the na- tional life? What of all the fine promises and roseate ictures which stimulated sritannia to stand fast and reconciled her, as far as is humanly possible, to offer six hundred thousand young lives and eight billions ster- ling on the altar of freedom? Well, up to date they have attained all those things in about the same measure we did. Labor is milling round and threaten- ing and scaring everybody with schemes for nationali- zation of industries. Now and again it succeeds in forcing the government to compromise with its de mands, but the same forces control England which con- trolled it when I lived here sixteen years ago. While the struggle was on, Lloyd George in one of his loftier flights passion- ately adjured his fellow countrymen to make theirs a land fit for heroes to live in. And now, as an ex- service man yelled at one of Lady Astor’s meetings not long ago, “It tykes a ‘ero to live in it.” Millionsof Englishmen are of his mind. Mighty under- currents are at work. Their “Making up to the men,” American women called it The supposition was that men liked this sort of thing, but anybody taking the trouble to observe the anties of the human male will speedily discover that he is very apt to forsake these yearning charmers for a hussy who flouts him. He likes to be kept guessing. Women's improved economic position over here is changing her tactics. The yearners are disappearing to some extent, Matrimony is not now the only way out. When a woman can provide comfortably for herself, she isn’t going to make a fuss over a fat-headed male whose ideas ap- proximate a medieval Turk’'s The war was a startling revelation of woman's place in the scheme of things, and it is not likely she will suffer it to be taken from her. Prior to 1914 there were three million women employed in all classes of occupation. Their scale of pay was piti- fully inadequate “The total number of women estimated employed in industrial and commercial occupations in January, 1920, shows an all-round increase of 724,000 on the total employed in July, 1914,” declares an official report. And I may add that women's wages and saiaries have been substantially advanced, so that a woman worker now enjoys a measure of independence and security. In many other respects—the use of con- veniences which make for comfort of living and the speeding up of effort; in the adop- tion of up-to-date methods, and in willing- ness to work—my observation is that Britain has lagged badly during the last « ‘ ‘ ‘ . Daring the London Raitway Strike — Part of 20,000 Two-Galton Empty Petret Cans, the Accamuatation of One Day at a Singte Station enjoy the relation to business which it has long occupied in the United States. In England none but the well-to-do ever think of installing one in the home, and where an American business establishment would have scores of phones, one antiquated in- strument will answer the needs here. Doz- ens of hotels in London that depend on a oe cape solid class for their patronage have no telephones in the bedrooms, and a single small switchboard for the entire establishment. The United States has fif- teen times the number of telephones in use over here Dreams Unrealized New York State alone has twice as many automobiles as the whole United Kingdom. Whereas with us everybody who can scrape a few hundred dollars to- gether or possesses something he can mortgage has an automobile or a flivver, ownership in Britain is limited to the affluent. One doesn’t see every smooth road alive with scurrying, squalling cars on clear Sundays. Against 7,500,000 automo- biles in the United States, the United Kingdom cah show only 132,000— 265,000 if motorcycles are included—which is a substantial decrease since 1914. These fig- ures refer to pleasure cars, however, and not to taxicabs or other such motor vehicles. Even when he can afford it, the average Englishman is slow to embrace innova- tions. Like all good conservatives, he is force cannot yet be gauged but it is already causing ap- prehension. Meanwhile the press sticks to the stale silly method of trying to minimize the un- rest by misrepresenting its manifestations. “A few malcontents”’ or “Some misguided sympathizers with Sinn Fein’’—such are the stock phrases employed, though what actually happened may have been a demon- stration by many thousands, including ex- service men and a goodly proportion of citizens whose tendency in normal times would be solid. I heard a mob of two thou- sand or more cheer Russia and Ireland, ending with the song Keep the Red Flag Wyvin’ 'Ere—they bellowed it to the tune of My Maryland. Of course they have been demonstrating and spouting meaningless hot air in Hyde Park for years and years with no harmful results; I fully realize that. But this was different, and quite a different crowd from the ordinary. Yet the newspapers blandly reported next morning that a group of hot-headed Sinn Feiners started a fight, and a few ex-soldiers, who did not know what the row was about, took a hand to quell it; whereas it was an ex- service men’s affair all through. It seems as if wherever one turns he finds the British house divided against itself. The lower classes are restive, sullen, doggedly determined. The upper classes are fearful, and therefore inclined to try coercive tactics or create diversions through other dangers in the hope of again solidify- ing all factions by necessity for concerted action; and the middle classes bear the brunt of this conflict. October 9,1920 Yet with cheers for Russia and Ireland being given in the heart of London by crowds numbering thousands, in face of innumerable disquieting signs, one familiar with British character and habits of thought cannot conceive a revolution possible in England. The great middle classes are so intensely conservative, so slow to change. And they balance like a gyroscope, the con- tending forces of capital and the upper classes on one side and organized labor and the masses on the other. Moreover, out in beautiful rural England people are not at the boil. Probably the outcome will be a com- promise. Failing to create splits among their opponents—dividing them has al- ways been their strategy—the governing classes will fight and then grant conces- sions. The British have a genius for com- promise. So we will likely see changes, but they will come without revolution, gradually and with due regard for law, after the man- ner in which British greatness was built up. The Anglo-Saxon temperament does not offer a fertile ground for the seeds of Bol- shevism, and I think the gloomier prophets are unduly pessimistic. The Power of the Foreign Office One of the pet illusions of the English is that they are a democracy. They often boast that the way their system of govern- ment works out stamps it more truly democratic than the American. In some respects that is so, for no people is so jeal- ous in protecting the rights of the individ- ual, and they stand ready to defend with their lives liberties which Americans pa- tiently forgo in compliance with majority dictation or which they cede to centralized power in emergency. So a fairly strong case can be made out for the British con- tention as regards domestic affairs; yet even there very definite limits exist. For with all the machinery of government reposed in the people’s hands through the ballot, they go on being riled century after century by a small governing class. Changes take place in the governing class, it is true. It is continually opening its ranks to recruits from the proletariat; but no sooner are these men established than the leaven works and they are playing the old game as zealously as any of those born to it. One need not go far afield for conspicuous examples. What doughtier champion of the people’s wrongs ever flashed across the lists than David Lloyd George? The first time I met him he was rated as a radical firebrand with a gift of eloquence, the solid elements regarding him much as our own conservatives look upon a socialist to-day. He had no following in the House; but some of his earlier schemes of reform burned with such fiery sympathy for the under dog that he caught the imagi- nation of the masses and held it. That made him a power to be reckoned with, and the governing circles took him in. And what became of his reforms? Surely all the tub thumping produced results! Oh, yes, some of them went through—some of them went through. A few compromises, of course—a change here and there—some of them were indeed put through, but in a form which left things almost as they were before. For the matter of that, I doubt that any single statesman could make head against the invisible government —the bu- reaucrats who control the departments and consequently rule England. It is in the conduct of their foreign rela- tions that the notion of England being a democracy gets a black eye. That is the business of the Foreign Office exclusively. It always has been. Parliament and public have kept their hands off. From time to time nowadays a member gets up and asks a question in the House of Commons, but he is easily put off. If it is not deemed ad- visable to supply any information, all the ministerial bench has to do is to announce that nothing can be given out at this stage, and the matter is closed. Unlike the United States, whose foreign policy, so far as she has any, varies with each administration, England has a fixed, definite foreign policy she has followed for centuries, regardless of what party happens to be in power. Its manifestations may vary to suit exigencies, but the goal is always the same. And public and press, (Continued on Page 125)

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Exit Fire! ANNED by a brisk lake breeze, the greater part of Chicago burned to the ground in Octo- ber, 1871. In 1903, in the same city, the Iroquois Theatre burned—with its loss of over 575 lives. As a stern reminder of the great Chicago fire, October 9 is each year set apart as Fire Prevention Day. Yet in spite of stringent laws, improved build- ing construction, and modern fire departments, fire still gains headway. The total yearly loss in the United States has increased to the astounding figure of 350 million dollars and fifteen thousand lives. Much of this loss represents sheer waste, hide- ously criminal—and strictly preventable. Fire- foam fire-fighting apparatus will reduce it by mil- lions of dollars and thousands of lives. Firefoam extinguishes the most persistent fires — even blazingoil—by smothering. Increasingtoten times its volume on discharge, it coats and clings to burning and threatened surfaces. It gives off no dangerous fumes. Unlike water, it does not damage. It is the most effective extinguishing agent known. Firefoam apparatus covers the entire field of fire protection, from hand extinguishers and portable engines to large installations for buildings, indus- tries, ships and oil properties. Millions are today enjoying the protection of Firefoam in theatres, hotels, factories, offices and homes. Every dwelling and all valuable property in America should be protected by Firefoam. Send for literature. FOAMITE FIREFOAM COMPANY FIFTH AVENUE BUILDING, NEW YORK CITY Sales Engineers in Principal Cities Dealers Everywhere s2g8 ~ “FO gm : ‘ . ‘egt?” K SMOTHERS FIRE he wi” Wot ES e.> “ “ % <F Saar oy Eyer far hee “as —

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N France and England the motor cars are almost exclusively equipped with piston rings that are hammered. In America, where many kinds are made, no other process has replaced hammering as the most successful way of giving a ring perma- nent “‘life’’ or tension—the vital requirement. Cross section i an engine cylinder, showing the piston rings in piace.Good ring mt t he leak? er all cond ' f apeed pres md heat Wonderful exactness is necessary to hammer rings scientifically American Hammered Piston Rings are placed in hammering ma- chines of our own patented design and a com- pressed air hammer strikes successive blows around the inside of the piston ring as it‘ re- volves. Thus the metal around the inside is com- pressed, giving permanent tension. And the ball points of the hammer leave their marks, by which you can always recognize an Amer- ican Hammered Piston Ring. The hammer- ing has nothing to do with the outer surface of the ring, which is polished smooth for leakless tontact with the cylinder walls. The force of the hammer blows is absolutely uniform, but the spacing between them is ac- curately narrowed at the points farthest from the opening so that equal outward tension at all points around the ring is the result. Ever since the time of James Watt, in 1774, piston rings have been hammered. It is not a new idea, but our special process of ham- mering, with precision and scientific spacing, THE SATURDAY EVENING POST on the metal when cold, is the one way to get permanent tension. Every ring must be mechanically fit when it goes through our process, otherwise it could not stand the “‘gaff’' of the hammer blows. Absolute accuracy in our machining is backed up by an inspection after each opera- tion of manufacture, and the elimination of any ring that varies as much as a thousandth of an inch from our standard. The supreme and final test is the “leakless test’’ given every ring. In front of an intense light, each ring must fit its motor cylinder gauge without the faintest trace of light showing through at any point. Recently one of our rings was removed from a Pierce-Arrow car in Albany, New York, after having run over 40,000 miles. We meas- ured it with a micrometer caliper and found that the wall thickness showed no variation from that of our standard of manufacture. This proved that no portion of the ring exerted a stronger pressure against the cylinder walls than any other portion; for if it had, the ring at that point would have become more worn. Experts agree that the greatest danger of leakage is not at the joint, but around the edge of the piston ring. They regard the step-joint as effective and dependable. Every day we are told of motors equipped with American Hammered Piston Rings which have gone from 45,000 to 100,000 miles, and which still show round cylinders, full tension in the rings and absolute absence of leaks. into a Pisto October 9,1920 Service hing- Our rings are used as factory equipment by 39 leading motor manufacturers, and you may obtain them for replacement in your own motor, made to the same high quality which these manufacturers demand. We have but one standard. A used ring— not the hammered kind. Smoke stains betray a leakage of com- pression around the edge of the ring. For perfect satisfaction and freedom froin the many motor troubles that spring from piston rings, see that your motor is equipped today with American Hammered Piston Rings. For sale by dealers in all parts of the country. AMERICAN HAMMERED PISTON RING CO. BALTIMORE, MARYLAND

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| | (Continued from Page 122) however much they may bicker and storm over domestic issues, are inclined to leave foreign policy religiously alone. Indeed the average Englishman is com- pletely in the dark as to what the Foreign Office is doing. He apparently doesn’t want to know; he feels vaguely that those are matters beyond his comprehension and he had best keep out of them. The Foreign Office fills him with a species of awe, uate would never dream of attacking its con- duct in the way he belabors the domestic departments. The result of this deplorable condition is that a department which has always been in the hands of the trained bureaucrats of the governing classes, whatever personage —_ be at the head of it, which has always followed a definite policy through the labyrinths of secret treaties, can commit Great Britain to anything it has a mind to do, without the consent of Parliament or even its knowledge. The nation is com- mitted while absolutely in the dark. Parliament learns what has happened only when it is already an accomplished fact. Then where does representative government come in? In this wise: Parlia- ment may withhold credits and so defeat the measures for which the Foreign Office asks sanction. But imagine Parliament doing it! Very fine theoretically, but it simply isn’t done, for Parliament could not withhold credits once embarked on. It would be suicidal. However distasteful to them, they must provide the money and see the thing through; any members who dared oppose would be branded as traitors and fall victim to public anathema. We all know what opposition to war means, once the war is on. In my opinion this power of the Foreign Office to commit Britain to secret treaties, without Parliament or people having any hint of it until a situation has risen from which there is no escape, constitutes the weak point in their governmental system. That the British dominions take the same view was amply evidenced by demands during the peace conference that they should be consulted before any decision involving a prospect of their participation. For though they are not automatically cunsiitted to war when Britain declares it, they have never yet failed to jump in voluntarily when needed; so the result is the same. Parliament in the Dark Here are two contemporary instances which illustrate the extent of parliamen- tary control over the Foreign Office. vote of five hundred thousand pounds for Persia came up in the House, buried in a miscellaneous vote for foreign expenditure. Sir D. Maclean and Lieutenant Commander Kenworthy protested against the absence of information, and Lord Robert Cecil sup- ported their stand. Now there had been uprisings in Persia and affairs were in a critical state; the newspapers had been voicing anxiety ana a desire for enlighten- ment; yet Mr. Cecil Harmsworth, the For- eign Undersecretary, indicated that he was not prepared for the debate on the subject; all he could say was that the money had been advanced in support of the govern- ment’s policy, and an additional five hun- dred thousand pounds would be found by the government of India. And did the House insist that they, the people’s repre- sentatives, should be informed? They did not! They rejected an amendment to re- duce the vote, though neither they nor anybody else outside of the charmed circle have any idea of what that policy is; and the veil of secrecy was never lifted for an instant. Sentiment against a new war is over- whelming in England, regardless of what adversary is put up for them. People are sick to death of war; the whole nation has had its fill of horrors and sacrifices and burdens of debt. From every side comes convincing proof that Britain does not want further trouble on 4 pretext. Yet the Foreign Office took the country to the brink of war. And for what? Because Britain gave certain commitments to Poland in conjunction with France. What those may be, Parliament has been unable to learn; when members pressed for information they were side- tracked, and submitted to it. All the public has to do in the making of wars in Europe is to supply the lives and the money. It seems a curious anomaly that a depart- ment practically outside of parliamentary THE SATURDAY control should exercise such powers in a democratic government. I submit that the system is a menace to the peace of the world. It would be difficult to persuade the average Englishman of this because when- ever the a Office lands the country in an impasse he blames it on the govern- ment in power at the time, and not on the system. But some of them are beginning to wake up. This awakening finds expression in recent editorial comment. Several newspapers are for chucking the whole system of main- taining outposts of empire, arguing that such are merely liabilities, and not assets. “We ought to clear out of Mesopotomia, bag and baggage, at once.” They contend that the ends sought by military occupation, which is nearly always ineffective, can best be-obtained by com- mercial enterprise, and that the returns from present methods aren’t worth the price—forty million pounds a year in the case of Mesopotomia. “The Arabs seem willing to shed their weet for freedom; how much more their oil! And “Great Britain should follow the wise example of the United States, which declined to make itself responsible for the fortunes of Armenia.” The Land Monopoly They contend that Britain’smainstrength lies in the isles, and that the British posses- sions in far corners of the earth, over which the imperialists maintain such jealous watch, are a source of weakness and should be turned loose to govern themselves. Another condition which a visitor finds hard to reconcile with real democracy is the concentration of land ownership in a com- paratively few hands. It has been prolific of trouble. At this moment the grievance voiced most persistently at every meeting of ex-service men ren | the discontented elements is against the system of land ownership. It has depopulated the country districts to swell the urban populations; it compels Britain to import the bulk of her food, and has driven millions of Britannia’s best to the colonies and dominions and the United States—‘‘best,” because of their initiative and courage to seek opportunity elsewhere. This has been greatly to Britain's advantage in one respect, for it has built up those virile, progressive democratic do- minions overseas which are the staunch bulwarks of the empire to-day. “‘Great estates ruined Italy,” said Pliny, and to the misuse of the land has been attributed the outbreak of the French Revolution. “‘The nobility and clergy possessed nearly two-thirds of the land. The remainder, the property of the people, paid a multitude of feudal fees to the no- bility, and tithes to the clergy, and was exposed to the devastation of game and hunting parties.’"’—Thiers and Bodin. In the year before the outbreak of the war more than forty million acres, out of a total area of about seventy-seven million acres in the United Kingdom, were in the possession of only 2500 persons. In other words, one eighteen-thousandth part of the total population controlled more than half the land. Small as the British Isles are, 1688 landowners owned estates aver- aging 8400 acres each, and four hundred peers averaged better than 14,000 acres each. A certain duke enjoys the ownership of 1,358,000 acres in estates in different parts of the country. How did they get all this land? Some of the estates in the hands of ancient families have been handed down from eldest son to eldest son, and were the rewards of services rendered by ancestors to the sovereign of the day or to the country. Some represent scientific brigandage; some are the fruits of trade; some were built up by fencing in common property which belonged by right to the people of the district. In early days much of the agricultural land was held in common, and naiend had a race of sturdy yeomen who would brook no infringement of their rights, be it from king or lord or pontiff. They were the solid foundation upon which her early power grew. Estates often change hands, due to a family falling upon hard times, but that does not improve the lot of the tenant or solve the land question. Indeed very often the last state of the tenant is worse than the first, because the owners who acquired their fortunes in commercial pursuits have seldom been an improvement on the hered- itary landlord, usually revealing a jealous regard for their game and sporting rights EVENING POST and a keen desire to make the estate return a decent rate of interest on an inflated pur- chase price; and change of ownership does not alter the system. Generation after generation estates are passed down to the eldest child that the family’s position and prestige may be se- cured. We all know what a younger son’s portion is in England, for we have had thousands of them among us. The law of rimogeniture may be the keystone of the ouse of Lords, as Lord Arundell of War- dour once remarked, but it’s a pretty rotten business considered from the standpoint of the larger good. And what must be the feelings of strug- gling agriculturists who see fine land lyin idle all round them, that a few sriviinged persons may have country estates and game preserves? A trip over England and Scotland would shock an economist, sweet as this English countryside is. Britain is not using the resources within her own borders when she permits so much agricul- tural land to go to waste. The lot of the farm tenant is almost less. He must accord small game rights to the landlord, which means access at any time for shooting purposes on the soe of killing off the rabbits. And the ndlord may keep preserves right next his farm, where game is bred and protected which pillages neighboring crops. So sonal was the influence of the landed gentry that they were able to have legisla- tion which savored of the Dark Ages passed to protect their game and shooting privi- leges. To shoot one of the landed gentry’s pheasants used to be as heinous a crime in the eyes of the law as burglary, and poachers received sentences of imprison- ment from justices who were themselves of the landholding class that would have been adequate for highway robbery. Many attempts at reform have been made, but the privileged classes are still so strongly intrenched in Britain they are sel- dom reached. Lloyd George had a scheme for the reform of land tenure which raised hopes everywhere save in the bosoms of the lendhebiens, How they did vilify and abuse him! For there is no adversary so bitter or vituperative or who plays it so low down as the class which has enjoyed special priv ileges, when those privileges are attacked. To those who look up to the aristocracy as superior clay, I would sug- gest that they make an onset against aristocratic interests and see what happens. The result will be an object lesson of the link between the Limehouse district and the*ancestral halls. However, the scheme served the purpose of carrying the little Welsh wizard to power. When it finally went through its ae were so toned down that—what with other conditions operating against small holdings—the attempt at reform proved abortive. I cannot find that small holdings have increased. Only five per cent of the population of the British Isles derive their living from agriculture, compared with forty per cent in the United States. The Spoils of War As an offset to her war losses Great Britain has gained millions of square miles of countries rich in mineral and agricul- tural resources, millions of population. Perhaps more valuable still, the crushing of a rival who had begun to crowd her on the sea and in the markets of the world. She is due to receive from Germany compensation for damage to her towns and cities and mercantile shipping; to her was allocated the bulk of the German ships. And British prestige was never so high; never did she occupy so dominant a position in European councils. John Bull’s dictum is practically law to Continental Europe. John Bull has gained an empire in terri- tory —German East Africa, German South- west Africa, the German Pacific possessions south of the equator which were allocated to Australia and New Zealand, Togoland and Kamerun in conjunction with France, a mandate over Mesopotomia and a free hand in Persia. However prettily diplo- matists may coat the pill, a mandate is equivalent to sovereignty. A little island of some forty million in- habitants controls more than a fourth of the world. A colossal achievement! Com- pared with Britain’s sovereignty over empires and continents and her possessions in every clime and sea, the ancient Roman dominance appears a puny thing. To my mind Britain’s preéminence rep- resents the triumph of selected brains and 125 mass character over inefficiency. She is slow and blundering and inefficient—yet she has always won. Twice in a hundred and twenty years has she grappled with nations more highly Pm with in- finitely greater driving power and mo- mentum, nations whose military might exceeded hers, whose armies were better led. But she tumbled them in the dust. It cannot be explained on the ground of superior valor, for the notions of racial su- periority in bravery so carefully fostered by every nation were blown to smithereens in the Great War. She did it through the ablest statesmanship and diplomacy any country has yet woe showy endl the staunch, steadfast character of the British people. Only that steadfastness of character would have carried them through the tragic blundering of those tests. Let us examine my statement that her statesmanship and diplomacy are unap- proached by any other, for I am aware that it is a favorite pastime of her ene- mies—and of the British themselves—to deride both for clumsiness and blind pig- headedness., In every great war, whatever nation or group of nations fought, Britain had to fight the world. She has made fearful mis- takes of policy and alliance, but in the end she always arrayed the world against her foe. How did she do it? By the high order of her diplomacy and statesmanship, which are always ready to forgo the immediate advantage and take the onus of seeming bungling for the ultimate gain. Yet that does not explain it all. No fair-minded man can analyze her history without com- ing to the conclusion that she accomplished this result—whatever her methods—be- cause of the strength of her case. It would not have been possible for her to do it had her cause been an unjust one. The Reward of Genius Even granting for the sake of argument that she sought to build up her own power in shattering that of rivals, the fact re- mains she has consistently championed freedom from military despotism; she has ever been ready to fight against domination by one people. Since the days of Elizabeth, Britannia has been the watchdog of the world. She broke Spain’s dream of world con- quest by destroying Philip’s huge Armada in 1588; she foiled Louis XIV’s plans for the hegemony of Europe; and after van- quishing all his enemies, Napoleon found the watchdog in his path. The watchdog rallied his battered, bleeding enemies against him, and by sheer weight of numbers and tenacity of purpose finally brought him down. In my opinion, when all is said and done, Britain well deserves the success she has won. Hers seems to be a case of the survival of the fittest race at the time to contend with human problems. Other powers have made no more disas- trous mistake than underestimating Brit- ish diplomacy and acumen. Their foresight and adroitness are uncanny—dullness and cheerful stupidity are only the English- man’s pose. He is quite willing that you should think him an ass provided he gets what he is after, and he will let an antag- onist go blithcly ahead, displaying his superior cleverness, until the show-down reveals who has brought home the bacon. They are the same in business. No shrewder trader exists than John Bull and none more dependable and honest. Any American business man of large affairs will corroborate this. A friend of mine who did business with numerous English concerns running into half a million dollars yearly for six years tells me that he never lost a penny in bad debts. “There is no other people in the world about whom I could say the same,’ he said. Speaking of the English shrewdness in business reminds me of the experience of a former great captain of American indus- try. He had cleaned up pretty thoroughly at home; one after the other the giants of American finance had tackled him only to lose their scalps. So one fine day he set out for foreign parts to take tribute of the Old World. The project he had in view brought him into contact with a number of English financiers and business men— well tailored, suave, polished gentlemen who exhibited no alarming symptoms of excess gray mat- ter. The American had met the best the United States could produce—bold, ag- gressive, lightninglike buccaneers — and (Continued on Page 128)

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October 9, 1920 & o ° Q, Oo z ae 2 re) > ta > 5 Q & > bh & n ra) x ~

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meee THE SATURDAY EVENING POST HE tremendous advance in transportation made by the automobile of today naturally ; calls for the forward vision in all things con- nected with it—from the road it runs over to the gloved hands that control the wheel. No.1043—Black Horse- hide, Soft cuff. Im- ported Fur lining. sg The fact that people now realize, more and more, the absolute necessity of a good glove is largely due to the distinctive quality of Hansen building. . In a Hansen you have more than the essen- tials of good grooming—you have a flexible, comfortable partner for your hands. And not only for those times and seasons when a glove a 4 (se j or gauntlet is taken for granted, but for all ;'S3 egPainae ee aS). oR seasons—for many and varied occasions. : No. 261—Bac Cae di” a a ae 4 . ‘ eather, one-finger Wey. 1% Whether for motoring or formal dress, for 3s pe Ay a * cS e . . 7 7 A fe heavy service or just general, all-purpose wear, there is a distinction, an individuality which has given the Hansen name authority in the field. Glove Book Sent on Request It ‘describes and illustrates many types and designs. See your dealer and make your choice. O.C. Hansen Manufacturing Company 517A Wright Street Milwaukee, Wisconsin > 4 7 5 Ta ee rd sd ~ a Yigg Pi Ss - = f s i Ate — No, 912-—d3iack Grain Horsehide. Panel Gauntlet. Lined of unlined styles t : od No. 701—F inest leath- er. Lined throughout with choice furs. Soft cuff. Note graceful lines No. 707—Black Grain xesener, Fur cu z Combines warmt with elegance. No.1044—Biack Horse- hide. Full mitten style Soft cuff. Lamb Fur lining No, 1383—Black Cape Auto Gauntlet. Fas- len nodee call —- View of New Boulevard Link Bridge, Chicago ique, secure.

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128 Jor comfort The President guarantee | of satisfaction or money | back, pair, attached to each | is our bond to wearer and dealer. Every pair guaranteed Be sure the name President | is on the buckle. Made at Shirley Massachusetts { Pree | | for control of this situation. THE SATURDAY (Centinued from Page 125) these new antagonists looked encourag- ingly soft. So he went energetically ahead with his scheme for a tremendous combine. The Englishmen listened oomaeny. amended it here and there in apparently unimportant particulars, and accepted the proposition. Highly elated, the American returned to fork, and about a year later he woke up to find that those innocent Britishers had sewed him up beautifully. He and his associates suffered a loss running into mil- lions. John Bull’s perspicacity deserves respect when our diplomats and business ambassadors come to deal with him. As a world trader he is supreme. Heads of second-rate concerns in the provinces know more about exchange—francs, pesos, rupees and marks—than the majority of our bankers; and their big business men have forgotten more about international finance and foreign trade than most of our American organizations ever knew. That is why John Bull is gradually regaining the reins of financial power. The pound is cheap to-day, but watch it in a few years’ | time! In 1917 a vice president of the second largest bank in the United States said to | me: “We're beating the big bass drum now because New York is the financial center of | the world and they have to come to us for | money and credits. But the financial center | will be back in London within three years after peace is declared. We simply haven't the machinery here for the job.” Butting Into Britain’s Problems The process is already under way. It appears practically certain that we will lose our financial preéminence in world affairs just as we lost our prestige in inter- national councils—because we haven't yet produced the men who can hold it, even when backed by all the trumps. And what of our relations? They have not been so bad in half a century. Two schools of thought are contending One would argue every pin-prick difference to the bitter end—always ending up in denuncia- tion of the other side as blithering idiots while the other is for hush-hushing, for | treading softly lest you give offense, and | trusting to luck that things will shape for the better. Both are dangerous. The latter is espe- cially so; history bristles with catastrophes due to deliberate blinking of the trend of events and glossing over of friction which might easily have been removed by intelli- gent handling. By observing a too nice regard for the amenities instead of cou- rageously facing unpalatable truths, this outworn method of dealing with inter- national complications has often landed nations in an impasse. What do statesmen and official spokes- men hope to gain by loyal-allies and hands- across-the-sea orations when a child could not be taken in by them? The French press and members of the senate have been railing at Lloyd George and England for months; they open up whenever the in- terests of the two powers clash, whether it be in Syria, Africa or over the coal indem- nities. And while the veriest novice in foreign affairs knows that feeling between the United States and Great Britain is not what it ought to be, and keen anxiety exists among thoughtful persons on both sides of the Atlantic, officialdomandself-constituted mouthpieces keep right on with this solemn buncombe, either in the hope that these manifestations are transitory or because they lack the pluck and vision to tackle the problems frankly and lay the ghosts. The silent treatment is criminal under such circumstances. On the other hand, the type of effort which seems to subordi- nate the interests of one country to those of another, or appears to show more con- sideration for the sensibilities and national pride of one than for those of the other, creates suspicion of its source and is bound to excite reaction. Among individuals friendship that cannot be maintained with- out surrender is not worth maintaining; and the same is true of nations. Many of the ghosts conjured up by the medicine men and tub thumpers are mere bugaboos, as examination will reveal. There are certain temperamental differences and differences of accent, speech, manners and | viewpoint which are inescapable and will | always be a barrier between the nationals of both powers. But these are the effects and not the real causes of friction. EVENING POST To illustrate: Were either ourselves or the British to contact a race from Lapland we would not dislike their speech or man- ners or behavior, however much they varied from our own standards. They would be quaint and interesting. We would probably like them. That is because they would not be our competitors. But just let them reach a plane of development whereon their wealth and achievements threaten to sur- pass our own—let them become our rivals for trade and supremacy—and straightway the characteristics that amused us or drew our admiration 2 gow so odious that they give us goose fl Then we have absurd, but nevertheless serious, misconceptions of each other. These points of friction have no place in this article, and I shall postpone discussion of them, but I consider it proper to point out some real dangers that lie ahead. They are economic, not political. With the growth of our naval power and merchant marine, and as both nations reach out for the markets of the world, there are likely to rise many serious differences. They will be very real—I cannot sufficiently empha- size that. The agitators are making a pro- digious splash in the political pool, but the reefs a | shoals lie in the swift rapids of business, and it will not help our steering to close our eyes to them. “All that is needed here is good feeling and plain speaking. Plain speaking we are determined shall be,”’ declares the London Daily Express, and the attitude is a sound one. Irritability on both sides should really occasion no surprise. Our relations were so unnaturally close during the war, when we fused aspirations and effort for the common cause, that a sharp flareback was to be expected. My only astonishment is that this assertion of national ambitions and interests has been so moderate. The pres- ent heat and tension should cause no special worry, for as the world gradually gets back to a peace basis passions will cool and sober counsels prevail. A prolific source of misunderstanding between the two countries is the apparent readiness of Americans to butt into British domestic problems. Of course the better informed Britishers realize that the sup- port given to Sinn Fein in America does not reflect the full body of public opinion, but the man in the street does not see it; and nobody over here quite comprehends the famous action of the American Senate. A fine service could be rendered their country by the politicians of the United States if they would refrain from making our foreign relations a football in their local game of vote getting. The British regard the Irish question as absolutely their own concern. They argue that what Sinn Fein wants is secession, and point out that the United States fought the bloodiest war of her history to prevent secession by the South. They ask what we would do were a race who nursed undying enmity against us to try to set up an inde- pendent republic a few miles off the coast of New York. In short, they consider that to grant independence to Ireland in the sense Sinn Fein aims at would be equiva- lent to suicide. John Barleycorn’s Life-Guard Another interference they bitterly re- sented was the invasion of England by some American prohibitionists. In vain was it explained that these reformers had no official standing, represented only cer- tain organizations to which they belonged and were in England on invitation of Brit- ish prohibitionists. e champions of John Barleycorn were scared. They simply went hog wild, for when you menace the Englishman’s drink you touch him in a tender spot. Straight- way they raised a hue and cry that this was American pussyfooting, for quite the easiest way to kill any movement in Great Britain is to brand it as the machination of foreigners. The depths of absurdity to which John Barleycorn’s friends will descend in his de- fense were startlingly revealed at a meeting of the shareholders of an old-established company dealing in wines and liquors. Ac- cording to Mr. orate Bottomley’s paper, John Bull, “The chairman’s caustic com- ments on prohibition were very much to the point, not the least interesting being his view that the pussyfoot campaign was being engineered from America in the hope that the fanatical extremists may force this country to vote for prohibition and cause October 9,1920 our industrial classes to down tools. That, he added, would exactly suit our greatest trade competitor.” The British insist on viewing prohibition as a would-be moral question foisted on them by fanatical goody-goodies, when it is really industrial. The movement can only gain converts slowly here, for the masses have a bred-in-the-bone fondness for their glass, and the liquor interests are so bound up with their whole social system that prohibition would entail a far-reaching reorganization. When the gentry have funds invested in the trade, and clergymen take the platform to denounce the dry move- ment, progress is bound to be slow. Some saddening statistics were contained in a Blue Book issued yesterday. Drunken- ness increased 99.3 per cent last year. During the war there was a substantial de- crease and it appeared as if the drink prob- lem might solve itself. From the peak of inebriety, reached in 1913, with a total of 188,877 convictions for ‘drunkenness _ in England and Wales, the chart dropped to 29,075 in the last year of the war. But, of course, there were millions of men overseas, and everybody was exercising restraint and making sacrifices for the common good. Now they are returning to old habits with whetted appetite, and we may expect to see all drink records broken shortly, in spite of the restrictions imposed by closing hours—no booze of any description can be sold in the mornings; only from twelve, noon, to two-thirty, and from six o’clock until ten. I cannot but think that the British will have to come to prohibition some day or surrender their proud place. When one sees the ravages John Barleycorn has made in the race, his vicious inroads on their fiber, the only wonder is that Britain did not long ago anticipate America in this step, for they had (ees greater need of it. John Barleycorn has a dreadful way of eating the keragel and leaving only the shell. Some amusing side lights on the prohibi- tion campaign have been offered by the London press, quite unconsciously. Last year a leading London daily had a three- column head denouncing impertinent pussy- foot interference from America in British affairs; on the same page was another item headed “ Anti-Prohibition Fight in U. S.,” which recited how British interests to the amount of £8,000,000 were concerned in the wet campaign in the United States. Of course the latter was a perfectly proper and natural thing! Pussyfoot Developments The same paper carried an illuminating item from Ireland the other day, which it treated in an identical manner: “Whisky Boycott. Fresh Weapon Against Great Britain.” I quote a small portion: “Such is the power of intimida- tion that sobriety in Ireland is becoming a national virtue. The latest jpussyfoot de- velopment is in Galway, where a self- denying ordinance has been promoted and through which it is expected to deprive Great Britain of £20,000,000 annually in liquor taxation.” Angry resentment has also resulted from President Wilson’s doctrine of self- determination. It was a trump card for use against the Central Powers while the struggle was on, and was therefore ac- cepted by the British as one of the prin- ciples for which the Allies were fighting. But afterward some of the Imperial posses- sions got the notion that self-determination included them. In Egypt and Persia, in Ireland and India, they clamored for it, pointing for justification to the President's utterances of aims. Ye gods and little fishes, what had the man done! Conservative organs, like the London Morning Post, which is the mouth- piece of the aristocracy, grew feverish. For months they have been scolding and fum- ing at the President and impertinent American meddling in general. Speaking of impertinent interference, it is instructive to note the trend of the British press and other comment these days. Every foreign nation or govern- ment or individual who ventures to ex- press an opinion in opposition to their view is branded “impertinent.” It has become their favorite word. No matter how just the opinion may be, regardless of the fact that the contrary stand of the foreign government is based upon its undeniable rights, it is impertinent when it runs counter to British views. (Concluded on Page 131)

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST

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(Concluded from Page 128) This extraordinary intolerance of the jingoes is creating some alarm among tem- perate and thoughtful Englishmen. Such an attitude can only be interpreted as a conviction of special selection; and the notion that any race has a divine mission on this little planet has been too recently bumped for the lesson to be forgotten. Some of our League of Nations propo- nents at home would have us believe that America’s failure to join has roused rancor against us in England. I have been unable to find any from that cause. In fact the percentage of Britishers who take the league seriously is negligible. They either regard it as an interesting experiment or with amusement as a sop to the pacifists. And there are some who see in it a very useful instrument for imperialism. The man in the street doesn’t take any stock whatsoever in the league. Probably the view expressed by Premier Hughes of Australia at a reception to the admiral of a visiting British fleet reflects pretty closely the general attitude. He declared, amid loud cheering, that the British Navy was a good enough league for them. Economic Danger Points The British are, however, much dis- appointed that the United States did not continue to work with the Allies after the peace settlement to straighten out Euro- pean troubles. They cannot comprehend it. Neither can they understand why the P reside ent could not pledge America to the treaty; and it is waste of time to try to make them see that the United States con- sidered the peace treaty and the league covenant did not embody the objects for which it fought and committed America to predetermined participation in policies she did not approve and which threatened to sacrifice her own interests and hobble legit- imate aspirations everywhere. In other words, they cannot appreciate the fact that the United States as a whole is not against a League of Nations, but only against a league which it deems bad. ‘The trouble with us,” a high official of the league said to me, “is that we are prone to expect the United States always to see eye to eye with us. We cannot disabuse our minds of the fact that the American people were originally an offshoot of the British; and consequently, forgetful of the scores of millions of other nationalities which now go to make up the nation, we look to them to share our every viewpoint. “T saw this exemplified when I accom- panied President Wilson on a visit to the home of his ancestors. The President’s remarks revealed the attitude of a guest from another people. The natives of the place simply could not grasp this at all. Wasn’t he one of them? Then why all this talk as though he could belong to another nation?” As I have said before, the danger points will be economic. For that reason we may look for recurrent violent agitations from * the press of both countries. Indeed my observation is that most of the hate stuff in international relations comes from the press, and that the masses of the people do not share these sentiments, if left to them- selves. The public is waking to the fact that their interests are identical the world over in the preservation of peace and amity. It is only when the newspapers they read keep hammering it into them from day to day that the hard times and deprivations they are passing through are due to the treacherous machinations of an- other nation that antagonism is bred. Now why should we, the general public, get wrought up because some of our pack- ers, let us say, find irksome the British restrictions upon their trade within the empire? Since when have American Federal and state authorities ceased to restrain them at every opportunity? It seems tome a very natural procedure for the British to endeavor to preserve the packing business, or any other, for themselves. And the fuss that has been raised about oil! To credit our press and some of our officials, one would think that John Bull had the world’s supply cornered and was wickedly engaged in shutting us out. All that is a tempest in a teacup. The United States produces sixty-six per cent of all the oil in the world, and controls about eighty. Contrary to popular belief, her available fields are not nearly developed The British have been forehanded in gathering in most of the prospective oil fields throughout the world not already in possession of a power or its nationals. In doing this, John Bull has merely done what we would have liked todo. He beat us to it. Besides, there are more ways than strangling to kill a cat. Some of the giant foreign oil corporations which possess im- mense fields and output are partly con- trolled by American capital. Why all the squealing about unfair tactics? The truth is that in operating in foreign countries an element of American business expects better treatment than it could get at home, and howls for help to enforce it, I have purposely left for the last the greatest menace hanging over the English- speaking peoples. That is our naval ambitions. An intolerable situation has risen. What the British think of freedom of the seas was shown the other day at San Sebastian, when the League of Nations killed the principle deader than a door nail, and at the same time set the seal of recognition on the principle of blockade. As the world is at present organized, no sane person could expect them to act otherwise, and they are perfectly consistent, too, for the British steadfastly refused to adopt, even by im- plication, President Wilson’s doctrine. The Power of Naval Supremacy In peacetimes the freedom of the seas is an empty phrase. Not even her enemies will contend that Britain has ever used her navy to close the world’s highways or ports to the commerce of other nations during peace. But the war revealed what a throttling power command of the seas confers, and whatever nation holds it must of necessity choke the trade of neutrals and combatants alike when she goes to grips with an enemy. Naval supremacy carries with it world hegemony. Along with many other nations, the United States has often been the benefi- ciary of British sea power. In the last fifty years John Bull has consistently used it on our side in a pinch. Nobody can have forgotten what happened off Manila in 1898, when the German admiral took: his squadron into a position indicating an attempt to prevent Dewey’s bombardment. Before making the move Diedrich visited the British flagship to ascertain from Capt. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Sir Edward Chichester: ‘ What action will you take if Dewey bombards Manila?” The reply was: “That is known only to Dewey and myself,”’ and shortly afterward, when the tension became acute, Chichester moved the British squadron in between the German and American fleets. What matters now is that the United States and every other neutral suffered from the naval blockade during the war. The experience brought home to Americans the power another nation possessed of throttling her commerce and _ industries whenever she chose to exercise it; and there was born a sentiment that this could not be tolerated. Why should a great and pow- erful nation permit her existence to remain at the mercy of another? It is a very natural position to take. On the other hand, consider Britain's plight. Up to the time of William the Conqueror the island was successively invaded by Romans, Saxons and Danes. Britannia took the lessons to heart, and since the days of Elizabeth her navy has been her chief weapon of defense. By it she was saved from the Spanish yoke under Philip and the triumphant armies of the Little Corporal. With it she closed the world to Germany and largely determined the issue of the Great War. The Right Kind of League ' Command of the seas is vital to Britan- nia’s self-preservation. Her fleet must sur- pass that of any rival or any conceivable combination of rivals. Without that com- mand, her empire would be torn from her, | and she could be starved into submission | within six months. Consequently she cannot see a competitor, however friendly, gain naval supremacy. She must inevitab iy be driven to meet the potential challenge Already our naval program worries her, and she is building on a huge scale. No | Englishman can discuss any subject with an American for long without reverting to our navy building and asking what it all means. of her rivals for sea power to understand what her stand must be. Now what is to be done about it? Sup- pose that America were to build a superior navy and wrest from Britain the domina- tion of the seas—do you believe the rest of | the world would tamely submit to the American grip on their throats? What is there in the history of American business to encourage hope that our conduct of ocean power would be more tolerant than the | British? Why should the rest of the world | acquiesce in the overthrow of one domina- tion merely to set up another? And right there is where we run up against the dire necessity of a real League of Nations; not a dummy league organized to perpetuate the present balance of power and etathiandanal adjustments; not a convenient weapon for imperialism; not a league in which American participation will be determined before she enters; not one in which her part will be stage managed by other powers; but which shall] supernationalize of naval and military strength it shall con- tribute to the general police force for the preservation of world peace—a league which will possess the power to compel disarm ment down to these standards, and enfor: its decrees. We must get that. Unless we do we shall pay for our failure in blood One has only to study the history | a genuine league, | war fleets and | allot to each member power the proportion | The BILTMORE NEW YORK One of the great Tershing Hotels JOHN McE. BOWMAN, President ewes ereee sees ; i ' ' AN ENTIRE CITY BLOCK ADJOINS GRAND CENTRAL TERMINAL THE BILTMORE is the center of New York's brilliant inter- national social life. Its sump- tuous material appointments are only a background for the play of its trained personal ser- vice —a service which assures the individual comfort and pleasure of its many and par- ticulur guests. Dinner and Supper Dances Friday Morning Musicales with Metropolitan Opera Company Artists Symphony Concerts As with the other Pershing Square Hotels, arriving at Grand Central Ter- goes directly ‘ Biltmore without taxicab minal baggage transfer theatres, shopping district. and elevated at hand. indoor connection by subway with all parts of the city. Other hotels in New York un- Bowman's direction: der Me. Hotel Commodore Grand Central Terminal “Get off the Train aad Turn to the Lett” The Belmont Opposite Grand Central Terminal Murray Hill Hotel A Short Block from the Station The Ansonia Broadway at 73rd St. In the Kiverside Residential Section PERSHING SQUARE HOTELS NEW YORK Square ‘han ne ecole : clubs, libraries, music and art exhibitions, and but a few steps from Fifth Avenue— the heart of the fashionable

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October 9,1920

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST iid) ) !] WI) WIN ry erat Ht} ||f (! 1] {TI I] PARTY 944 0] TAA || Hy Hy TLL IT}, hii. Al \\] || \ 44a] N1t{/4 //) i} / H/htry eb Wii] | La NY \ | ng Mi// / / ie ak t4/ } \ HT} /] F pe ft), / j iv; y "hes tre aise. | = ice HUY) ; Wi a wo A ‘ S > ill - HY ff Wf y . : MY Certainty — eliminates chance Our perfected anatomic system of measurements has made of TAILORING the wonderful success it is today. This system, backed by a great organization of skilled tailors, guarantees to every man—no matter where he lives— erfection of fit, proportion, balance and style in clothes made to his individual measure- ments, of fine, dependable woolens— at a fair price Our dealer in your community is your point of contact. Ask him to show you the remarkable values and range of patterns for autumn. In the meantime write for a copy of our new book of correct tailoring, Men's Togs ED. V. PRICE & CO. Dept. S. Van Buren and Market Sts. CHICAGO At the Sign of Ye Jolly Little Tailor

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eg limited size and the ultimate decision of questions of policy was still left in the hands of statesmanship not yet over- powered by the irresistible domination of irresponsible gigantic military organiza- tions and by the unreasoning passions of systematically fostered mass sychosis. These times, however, wre no more. But latter-day statesmen of al! the leading nations of Europe seemed to be quite un- conscious of the profoundly altered condi- tions which had been brought about by the adoption of conscription, by the mili- tary Powers of Continental Europe. They were playing unconcernedly, as of old, the traditional nefarious game of high politics, whose aim is political and military,suprem- acy and which is played with stakes rep- resented by the lives and fortunes of the teeming millions of the peace-loving peoples of Europe. When it had led to the outbreak of a war of dimensions until then unheard of in the annals of mankind, and when, in order to hold out to these peaceable millions a pow- erful motive for which the »y would be will- ing to risk their lives and fortunes, the formidable ghost of international hatred and fear had been raised—a ghost which to this hour it has not been possible to lay—it became evident that the longer the war should last the slenderer would grow the chances of statesmanship remaining in con- trol, a control which was bound to pass in the end into the hands of the all-powerful military element, supported and _ itself dominated by the all-pervading influence of war psychosis, at once the parent and the child of propaganda, with the disas- trous results we are witnessing to-day. That was the real danger threatening not only the future welfare of the belligerent nations but the future peaceful develop- ment of mankind. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST FORTY YEARS OF A DIPLOMAT’S LIFE (Continued from Page 23) To any independently reflecting mind it could not but be evident that the loudly proclaimed aim of the war as a war to end war and a war to destroy militarism could never be attained by a crushing victory achieved by either the one or the other of the belligerent sides, which would only mean the substitution of a victorious mili- tarism for a defeated one, thereby simply preparing the ground for a renewal of the struggle for supremacy in a more or less remote future, since the total annihilation of the defeated side, however ardently de- sired, would obviously not be within the bounds of possibility, nor could its uitimate recuperation be forever prevented by any devices of statecraft or military precautions. It would seem probable that President Wilson, when he spoke of peace without victory, may have had in view these same considerations, which would naturally oc- cur to a mind earnestly preoccupied with the search for a new basis upon which the community of civilized nations might be so organized as to preclude the possibility of the recurrence of such horrors as the world was passing through, and they may have in- spired his attempt at inducing the belliger- ents to consider the desirability of seeking to put an end to the slaughter by negotia- tions before the war psychosis prevailing in both camps had reached a stage when lead- ing statesmen would no longer be able to lay the ghost they had raised themselves. I have dwelt at such length on these con- siderations, of whose weighty nature I was entirely convinced at the time, because they serve to explain my personal attitude in regard to the question of the earliest possible conclusion of a general peace, which I regarded not only as a question of life or death for Russia but also as a ques- tion of supreme interest to all mankind, an attitude from which no fear of obloquy or disingenuous insinuations could ever make me swerve. Perhaps it will not be super- fluous at this point to recapitulate briefly my political profession of faith, to which I have incidentally referred in other chap- ters of these reminiscences. It can be ex- pressed in these few points: Russia, like the United States, may be regarded as a continent by itself, self- contained, self-sufficient, satiated, placed above the necessity of seeking expansion in any direction whatever; Russia, therefore, has no call to take any part whatever in the struggle for political or military supremacy in Europe, either as a principal or as an auxiliary or adversary of any one Power or group of Powers; Russia’s sole interest in European poli- tics centers in the maintenance of peace; And, lastly, the guiding principle of Russia’s foreign policy should be avoidance of any entangling alliances with any Power or Powers whatsoever. To this brief recital of the principles which have always governed my actions in public life I would add that once the struggle for supremacy seems to be an in- curable disease affecting the three leading Powers of Europe—-Great Britain, France and Germany-—and as I hold it to be a matter of indifference to Russia, as far as her true interests are concerned, into whose hands of the three this supremacy might pass, my personal preference would be in favor of Great Britain, simply because from choice I have found my, so to speak, intellectual home in the English-speaking world. But this purely personal preference does not by any means imply that I would be ready to admit that Russia's policy should be made in any way subservient to Great Britain’s aims in that direction, just as little as to those of either France or Ger many if either the one or the other had been the object of my personal preference. And I would wish it to be distinctly under stood that whatever I have said or written so far, and whatever I shall still have to say or write, has been and will be said and written by a Russian, owing and acknowl edging allegiance and loyalty to no one but to his own country and to his own people. But to resume the thread of. my narra- tive. It was, if I remember rightly, some day in the beginning of March, 1916, when I found myself in the reading room of my club, after luncheon, alone with the Minister of the Court, Count Fredericksz, who had come with the Emperor for a couple of days to the capital and who was the same afternoon to return with His Majesty to the headc 4 ne of the army at Mohileff. He may have noticed that I seemed to be preoccupied with thoughts the reverse of cheerful, paying but little attention to his chat on indifferent sub- jects; and he asked me abruptly what I thought of the political situation. I told him that I regarded the situation in every respect as extremely serious, not to say critical; that as far as I could see we were drifting rapidly toward a revolu- tion, which would mean the downfall of the empire and the ruin of Russia; that the only salvation for Russia that I could think of would be the earliest possible conclusion of a general peace—I would observe here parenthetically that I have never at any time advocated the conclusion of a separate peace with Germany, for the simple reason that I have never considered the conclusion of such a peace to be to the interest of Russia or to be called for by compelling circumstances—that I could (Continued on Page 138 - _ PYRIGHT BY UNDE “ NEW YOR ineaia as pvc ‘a Was —the Czar Mounted at the Left; the Erstwhile Heir Learning to Salute on the Reviewing Stand at Tsarskoe Seto

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THE SATURDAY EVENING October 9, 1920

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Why Engineers Agree on Hyatt Roller Bearings wy en a product identified with many +f industries commands the unanimous ap- proval of each respective group of engineers ti | it must necessarily possess real advantages. Hyatt Roller Bearings enjoy this distinction. . Engineers and designers of motor cars, trac- tors, trucks, steel mill and mine cars, machine tools and many other industries realize that modern designs call for permanent construction. It is becoming well recognized that it is a fundamentally sound practice to specify bear- ings which will last as long as the gears and shafts they carry, without replacement or adjustment. } Hyatt Roller Bearings are designed, built and applied on this fundamentally correct principle. Hyatt Roller Bearings give the same effective Hyatt Roller Bearings and permanent service to all equipment: pet toed iene ay ewe ad eli ta Ye an additional feature > 10 . — yee after many experiments to determine the most effici from the mighty crane to the factory truck Hyatt Roller Bearings carry the load, automat lly keeping them- istributing and cushioning the loads and shocks and designed and but ent type of roller, from the powerful, seven-ton motor van to the at er pnd Sn proper lubrication over the entire bearing light passenger car and in every kind of farm surface, machine used from planting to harvest. Ihe result is carefree service and permanent satisfaction, Twenty-four hours a day service in machine tools and textile machinery adds to their record of perfect operation. Heavy hauls over rough roads on motor vehicles prove their ruggedness. And in power farming machinery under the most adverse conditions of weather or soil they live up to what engineers expect of these bear- ings with built-in dependability. This record of successful operation is the reason ‘ why engineers agree on Hyatt Roller Bearings. HYATT ROLLER BEARING COMPANY Tractor Divisio Motor Division: Industrial Division: CHICAGO DETROIT NEW YORK ROLLER BEARINGS

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(Continued from Page 135) not se how the war could ever come to an end otherwise than under the auspices of the United States and through her inter- vention in one shape or another; that it was of the utmost importance for us that when such an American intervention would come about it should be, in a sense, not unfavorable to our interests; and lastly, that if it were considered desirable I would be ready at any time to go to America for the purpose of satisfying myself as to the trend of popular feeling in the United States in regard to the war, simply as a private individual on the lookout for a pos- sibility of securing the participation of Americar, capital in some business under- taking in which I was interested. Count Fredericksz listened to me very attentively and when | had finished talking asked me whether I could put on paper what I had told him, as he wished to sub- mit it to the Emperor, whom he was to join in the imperial train at four o'clock. I con- sented to do so, though I had barely half an hour before me in which to draft what should have been a well-thought-out and carefully worded state paper. Under the circumstances all I could do was to jot down then and there on a sheet of the club’s letter paper the substance of the ideas I had developed in the course of my conversation with the count. I sent it to the train in an envelope ad- dressed to Count Fredericksz, who received it just in time; and then I wrote down from memory a second copy, which I in- tended to forward to Mr. Sazonoff, the Minister of Foreign Affairs. Unfortunately I not make and keep for myself a third copy, so that Iam unable to reproduce here the text of this hastily drawn document, whose sense I think I have rendered cor- rectly as above. In the middle of the following night I wag awakened by the arrival of a rush tele- ram dispatched by the Minister of the Sourt from one of the stations on the way to Mohileff, in which he informed me that the Emperor had expressed his approval of the ideas set forth in my paper and desired me to.confer on the subject with the Minis- ter of Foreign Affairs. Jience to the order received, I wrote the next morning to Mr. Sazonoff, requesting an interview and inclosing the copy of my paper which I had prepared for that purpose. The Minister of Foreign Affairs received me in a manner which precluded any attempt on my part to enter into a discussion on the subject, and told me that: he disapproved the idea I had expressed in my paper submitted to His Majesty by Count Fredericksz, because in his opinion the object of the policy of the United States was to prevent us from crush- ing Germany, an event which was to be looked for in a few months. I thereupon withdrew, having asked him whether he had any objection to my acquainting the Minister of the Court with the negative result of my interview with him and having obtained his consent to my doing so. I mention this insignificant episode merely because | shall have to refer to it later on in connection with another matter in which this paper of mine seems to have played a rather unsuspected part. Our campaign in Asia Minor, conducted with brilliant success by General Yuden- itch, had culminated in the taking of Erze- rum, and to all appearances the military and political situation in Turkey had taken a turn which furnished sufficient ground for the supposition that an attempt at de- taching Turkey from her alliance with the Central Powers by the offer of a separate peace with our coalition might meet with success, The idea of the timeliness of such an attempt being made occurred to a friend of mine who was in charge of the diplomatic chancellery of the supreme com- mander in chief. Of course such an attempt would have implied the definite abandon- ment by us of any plans looking to the conquest of Constantinople, plans for the realization of which there was absolutely no hope that could have been said to be warranted by the general military situa- tion of Russia and her Allies. Having consulted on the subject the chief of the General Staff, General Alexeeff, who concurred entirely in his views, my friend submitted his plan to the Minister of Foreign Affairs, only, as was to be ex- pected, to be reproved for his pains. Of the soundness and practicability of my friend’s idea I had no doubt, provided only it were possible to overcome the maniacal obsession under which our THE SATURDAY politicians and the majority of our Intel- ligentzia were and are still laboring in regard to the assumed necessity for Russia to.secure possession of Constantinople and the Straits. It appears, indeed, if rumor which reached me later is to be believed, that the Turks had actually, sometime in the spring of 1916, thrown out a feeler to the govern- ment of one of the Allied Powers as to the possibility of the conclusion of a separate peace with the Entente, and upon being advised to broach the subject first of all to Russia as the Power principally interested, had replied that it was impossible for them to approach with such a proposal the Power whose hardly concealed aim was the con- quest of the capital of their empire. It is hardly necessary to point out the obvious reasons why the successful realiza- tion of this idea would have exercised a most important and probably decisive in- fluence on the course of events. But it was Russia’s fate that her policies should have been conducted with the same shortsighted and wrong-headed incompetence during the war as they had been before its out- break. Early in May of that year communica- tions were received from the governments of Great Britain, France and Italy, inviting our legislature to delegate ten members of each house for a visit to the Allied coun- tries. Ten members of the Duma accepted at once the invitation, but among the mem- bers of the Council of the Empire only seven—of whom I was the only one not elected, but a life member appointed by the Crown—were found willing to undertake the journey. Our president had suggested that before leaving we had perhaps better see the Minister of Foreign’ Affairs and concert with him the attitude we were to observe in foreign parts in regard to statesmen or representatives of the press with whom we might come in contact. He had also taken steps to arrange for us an interview with Mr. Sazonoff. We were received by him, weseven members of the Upper House, in corpore, and after some desultory con- versation he proceeded to give us an ac- count of the negotiations he had been carrying on in the preceding year with the British and Desadh Governments, which had resulted in the conclusion of a secret agreement by which these governments consented to our taking and retaining pos- session of Constantinople, of part of Thrace as far as the line Enos-Media, of the Asiatic shores of the Bosporus and the Dardanelles, and of two of the Agean islands com- manding the entrance to the straits. He showed us, with considerable naive sat- isfaction, on a large map, the future pos- sessions which Russia was to receive. This was the first disclosure made, very confidentially, of a secret agreement be- tween the Allied Powers, which was to be followed by several others of no less remarkable and equally secret character. Our journey to England was in all respects a very enjoyable one. We were apparently all happy to escape for a while from the atmosphere of nervous tension in which we had been living for nearly two years, and the utmost good feeling seemed to prevail ameng the members of our small ery. The leader of the delegation from the lower house was Mr. Alexander Pro- topopoff, at the time vice president and a rather popular member of the Duma, who a few months later became notorious as the last Minister of the Interior under the old régime, whose downfall he not only failed to prevent but by his policy oe he to achieve. I had not known him personally before, but as a traveling companion I found him all that could be desired. Mr. E. H. Wilcox, in his Russia’s Ruin, says of him: “Socially, Protopopoff was a great suc- cess. He was a glib and persuasive talker, with a wide range of conversational matter, a large fund of apposite quotations, and a considerable gift of humor. In England he became well known during his visit as a member of the delegation from the two houses of the Russian legislature, and he seems to have left behind him both a very favorable personal impression and a feeling of confidence as to his country’s persistence in the war.” My own impression of him was that he was an amiable nonentity, ashifty politician in a small way, with no settled convictions and quite incapable of conceiving and carrying through any independent line of volicy. His sudden elevation to the post of Minister of the Interior seems to have EVENING POST turned his head completely; so much so that at last serious doubts began to be entertained as to his sanity. Among our traveling companions of the Duma, the most prominent were the leader of the Cadet Party, Mr. P. Miliukoff, and Mr. Shingareff, ~ I in the year following became Minister of Agriculture and then of Finance in the Provisional Government, and ended by being shot in his bed in a prison hospital by the murderous bandits of Bolshevism. Of my own colleagues of the Council of the Empire, one, a very wealthy land owner in South Russia, seems to have met last winter with a tragic and mysterious fate, according to newspaper accounts. His body and those of several members of his family and of some other relatives, together with the bodies of all the members of the crew, were found on a disabled little steamer on which they appear to have escaped from Odessa in the hope of being able to reach some port on the Black Sea coast. They had probably encountered very heavy weather, the steamer had become disabled on the high sea, and they had run short of provisions and water, until starvation stared them in the face, and nothing remained but to cut short their agony by shooting one another, the last one committing suicide. Thus ran the harrowing story as told by the papers. What became of my other colleagues I have no means of ascertaining.. Some of us, like myself, felt at the time that the days of the old Russia we loved were num- bered, and that a catastrophe was due to overtake us; but no one could foresee its extent and atrocious character, unparalleled in the history of mankind. After a long railroad journey through Finland, Sweden and Norway, we were to embark at Bergen for Newcastle, and we had had passages engaged for us on a Nor- wegian steamer still plying between those ports, unabashed by the risk of encounter- ing German submarines. On arrival at the railroad station at Bergen, while we were clamoring for the steamship company’s agent who was to have taken charge of our baggage, we were met by the Russian and British consuls, who in mysterious whispers imparted to us the information that we were not to embark on the mail steamer, as other means had been provided for taking us to England. We were hurried away in auto- mobiles before the watchful eyes, as we were told, of some official of the German consulate, and were carried to a special landing stage where boats were waiting for us in charge of Norwegian naval officers to take us to the King of Norway’s yacht, where we were most hospitably welcomed and treated to a luxurious luncheon. As soon as we had all come on board, the yacht weighed anchor and went out to sea, up a beautiful fiord, at the top of which, after about an hour’s steaming, we descried in the shadow of a high mountain the im- posing form of a large British cruiser, on which we were to embark. The Donegal had arrived the day before—a venial infrac- tion of international law—and had spent the night at anchor, guarded against pos- sible submarine attacks by several Nor- wegian torpedo boats. We were made extremely comfortable on board, room was found for everybody, thanks to the kindness and courtesy of the captain and officers, some of whom gave up their cabins for the night. We were to have landed the following morning at some point up the Moray Firth; I believe it was Inverness, where a special train was waiting to take us to London. In the middle of the night, however, a wireless message was received from the commander in chief, Admiral Jellicoe, ordering the Donegal to proceed to Scapa Flow instead of Inverness. When we were told of it in the morning over our coffee we were delighted to find that we would have a chance to see the majestic spectacle of the Grand Fleet at anchor at its base. However, on afrival at Scapa Flow we found that during the night the whole fleet had gone to sea, presumably in consequence of some alarm, and we saw only a small part of it returning to its anchorage. We were transferred to a small steamer and taken to the port of Thurso, where the special train ordered up from Inverness was a for us. On arrival at Thurso we learned that the reason why our destination had suddenly been altered was that it had been discovered that during the night Ger- man submarines had succeeded in barring the mouth of the Moray Firth with a chain of submerged mines. October 9,1920 From the moment we set foot on British soil until the time fixed for the departure of the delegation for Paris and Rome we were the guests of the government and nothing could have exceeded the courteous cordial- ity of the generous hospitality extended to us. A few days after our arrival we had the honor of being presented to Their Majesties, the King and Queen, at Buckingham Palace. Upon our entering the drawing-room, where we were assembled, the King addressed to us a brief speech of cordial welcome, after which the individual presentations took place and Their Majesties engaged each of us in turn in some minutes of animated conversation. In the evening of the same day we were entertained at Lancaster House at a ban- quet presided over by the Prime Minister, Mr. Asquith, to which most of the promi- nent personages of the political world had been bidden. Being seated at table next to the Prime Minister I took occasion to tell him that on arrival in London I had received an invitation from the American Luncheon Club—an association of American residents and business men established in London and presided over by the American Ambassador—to be their guest at a lunch- eon, when I would be expected to deliver aspeech. That luncheon was to take place the following day, and as I was anxious not to say on that occasion anything that might not be in entire harmony with the Prime Minister’s views, and as there was plenty of time in the course of a very elaborate repast, I gave him a complete synopsis of the address I had prepared and intended to deliver before my American hosts. Mr. Asquith listened to me attentively and was kind enough to say that he ap- proved everything I intended to say, and reiterated the expression of his approval in a personal note to me when I had inclosed to him a clipping from the Daily Telegraph containing a verbatim report of my speech. The report appeared in the issue of that paper of June 6, 1916, under the caption: “Neutrals and the War. A Grave Respon- sibility.’’ The main part of it ran as follows: “In the course of his speech Baron Rosen said: ‘I thank you most warmly for the cordial reception you have extended to me . and for having given me the highly appre- ciated opportunity of meeting here so many distinguished citizens of the country where many of the es years of my life were spent, and to which I am warmly attached by so many ties of enduring friendship and sympathy. We are met here on the hospi- table soil of a great and noble country, which neither to you nor to us can ever be a foreign country. You are united to this great nation by the ties of blood, and we by the bonds of a close political alliance, which I hope and trust will become a close and enduring union of hearts as well. We, therefore, witness with the same feelings of profound admiration the gigantic efforts this country is putting forth in the common cause for which the Allies are fighting. “*Tt is not, indeed, the first time that Russia has been fighting side by side with England for the liberty of Europe. Little more than a century ago we were both leading a general coalition of European Powers in an endeavor, at last successful, to crush the power and to extinguish for- ever the insane ambition of one man of genius. Now we have to deal with a still graver situation, with a whole nation hyp- notized by their rulers into the almost religious belief that they are superior to the rest of mankind and that it is their pre- ordained destiny to achieve the overlord- ship of the world by force of arms. To what deeds may lead the teachings of a dominant caste maddened by the sense of its own irresponsible power, and dehuman- ized by the idolatrous cult of an ideal of blood and iron, we have witnessed and are still witnessing. These deeds have already created almost all over the world feelings against the German people which it will take them generations to live down. At the present’ moment the rulers of Germany must surely realize that their original plan of first crushing France and then dealing a death blow to Russia has totally and irretrievably failed, and that their dream of establishing by this means a German overlordship of the world has come to naught. The ultimate result is a foregone conclusion. The only question is, how long a time will it take, how many millions of lives of the flower of the manhood of Eu- rope must perish, what oceans of blood and tears must still be shed before this result will be brought about? (Continued on Page 141)

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(Continued from Page 138) Thus it is that a grave responsibility confronts the Powers who have hitherto remained neutral. For it is in their power to hasten the result and thereby to put an end to the world’s agony, by coming for- ward boldly and squarely as a unit and taking up their stand by the side of the Allies. In a world war like the pr one there can be no true neutrality. of your foremost fellow citizens puts it in a nutshell in saying: “I do not believe in neutrality betwee n right and wrong. I be- lieve in justice!” Whichever way the sentimental leanings of one or the other neutral Power may point, duty to humanity as well as their own interests should com- mand them to assist in closing as soon as possible this terrible episode in the world’s history by joining the side whose aims have been so eloquently and with such sober dignity set forth in Mr. Asquith’s address to the French parliamentarians on April tenth. “*No one nation could afford to resist the unanimous will of united mankind. Nor would there be humiliation or disgrace for Germany in submitting to such verdict, which would be given not against the Ger- man people but against the dominant caste, whose insane ambition has brought down upon them and upon the world the untold misery of this terrible war. “<The portentous and calamitous events we are witnessing should, it seems, impress civilized mankind with the necessity of or- ganizing the life of the community of nations upon a different basis, designed so as to preclude the possibility of any one Power automatically involving all the others in a catastrophe such as Germany's over- weening ambition has brought upon the civilized world.’’ It will be noticed that in the speech I refer to Russia’s participation in the coali- tion formed in the beginning of the last century for the purpose of crushing the supremacy of Napoleonic France, and that I refer to it in a tone that might seem to be conflicting with my above-stated conviction that Russia had no call to take any part in the struggle for supremacy in Europe. In this regard I would point out that my reference to the participation of Russia in the Napoleonic Wars was a purely his- torical one, unaccompanied by any com- ment on its advisability or the reverse. As a matter of historical fact I may mention here that Field Marshal Prince Kutusoff, the commander in chief of our armies, after the successful expulsion from Russia of the hosts of Napoleon’s invasion, was opposed to the Emperor Alexander’s policy of con- tinuing the war beyond the confines of the empire, and that he was opposed to it from the same point of view of purely Russian interests which I also hold to be alone rational and truly patriotic. I have no doubt that had his advice been listened to the history of cur country would have taken a different and a happier turn. It should, however, be kept in view that conditions in those days were wideiy dif- ferent from what they are to-day. Alexan- der I was the absolute master of a country the bulk of whose population were serfs. It was open to him to pursue a purely per- sonal policy, regardless of the feelings, wishes or needs of his subjects, and to carry it out by means of an armed force drafted from the peasantry for a twenty-five years’ term of service, which was an absolutely reliable instrument in his hands, always ready at his bidding to fight any enemy anywhere and in any cause. In the pursuit of that policy he was not inspired solely by the personal ambition of playing the part of the savior of Europe, but rather by the divine right of legitimate monarchy, which was an article of faith with him and in which he saw the salvation of the world. It must also be owned that in carrying out his policy he displayed a spirit of true liberalism and wise statesmanship, which caused him to insist on the restored legiti- mate monarchy in France granting the French people a constitution, and also on that monarchy being at once received in the comity of European states as an equal and a friend, and on France being spared the dismemberment aimed at by one of his allies—in all of which he had the support of the greatest military leader of the time, the Duke of Wellington, who was also a great statesman. It would seem but natural, therefore, that under the circumstances, speaking in London on a more or less public occasion, I should have alluded to a time when Great

THE SATURDAY Britain and Russia had been fighting in the same cause and pursuing the same policy. But the conditions which confronted the Emperor Nicholas with his advisers and | our party leaders and politicians were, as | I said, widely different from those which | existed in the time of Alexander I and en- abled him to pursue exclusively his own personal policy of meddling with and of exercising his preponderating influence in the affairs of the community of European states. The Russian people were no longer an inarticulate, ignorant herd of serfs, to be driven at the will of their masters. | Inarticulate and ignorant they were still, and that mainly owing to the neglect of their rulers, who were mostly absorbed in the engrossing pursuit of dabbling in Euro- pean and world politics with their clumsy and inexperienced hands, instead of de- | voting all their attention to the enlighten- | ment and the prosperity of their people. But when it came to sending millions | upon millions of their sons to shed their | blood for a cause they could neither under- | stand nor have sympathy with—for they felt it to be that of their rulers and of the Intelligentzia, and by no means their own—they would have their word to say; they would say it in their own inarticulate, chaotic, anarchic way, and they were going to say it soon, very soon, much sooner than the government and the Duma leaders, the politicians and the bourgeoisie ever ex- pected. They all knew or ought to have known that the revolution was coming, but they did not or would not understand the reason why. They were living in a fool’s paradise. That was the real truth of the situation, | which resident Entente diplomats failed to see, handicapped as they were by their | ignorance of the language and their non- comprehension of the mentality of the Rus- sian people, as well as by their habit of | relying on the one-sided information im- | parted to them by their adherents among | the Duma leaders, whom they took to be | the true exponents of the nation’s feelings | and wishes. I believe, however, that the Allied Gov- ernments had a vague inkling of an impend- ing weakening of Russia’s participation in the war; only, unable to understand its real causes, they attributed it to intrigues aiming at the conclusion of a separate peace with Germany and being engineered by supposedly German influences surround- ing the unfortunate Empress, a belief in which they were presumably encouraged by rumors reaching them from equally misinformed Russian sources. I also believe that the object of the invi- | tations extended to delegations from our legislative chambers was to impress them with the colossal extent of the preparations being made in Allied countries for the effec- tive continuation of the war, in the hope that by their reports and influence they would counteract the suspected pacifist tendencies of the government and encour- | age it to increased efforts and activity in | the conduct of the war. Be that as it may, all that I had been able to observe confirmed me in the conviction that the material resources of the Allies were so greatly and so palpably superior to those of the Central Powers as to render the ultimate outcome of the contest an absolutely foregone conclusion. It was, moreover, plain that the cause of the Entente, as far as it pursued the legitimate end of defeating the ambitious aims of the German ruling caste, was already won, and that the cause of the Central Powers, as far as it aimed at the establishment of Ger- many’s military supremacy in Europe, was irretrievably lost, and had been practically lost ever since the French victory on the Marne. The specter of a threatened Ger- man overlordship of the world had no longer any basis in fact. Two ways were open for bringing about negotiations with a view to the conclusion of a general peace. They were: The an- nouncement by one of the belligerent sides of its readiness to enter into such negotia- tions; and an offer of mediation by a league of neutrai Powers sufficiently power- ful to make it sure that its offer would not be rejected by either side. As regards the first mode of procedure it is plain that such an announcement could be safely made by the winning side without running any risk whatever of its initiative being treated as a trap, or a so-called peace offensive, as happened to the losing side when, under pressure of popular thirst—or perhaps one had better say literally, hunger —for peace, it ventured upon suchastep. It EVENING POST

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THE SATURDAY No GAME LAWS Here! No matter whether you’re shooting wild turkey in the South, ducks and geese down on the Chesapeake or hunting Maine moose, or prairie chickens out West, there’s one item in your kit that’s second in impor- tance only to your cartridges. That's Owl Cigar—the Owl Brand with the Brown Band. No restrictions—every day is open sea- son for Owl. And there’s no limit to the number you can take with you. The General Cigar Co., Inc., has its own game preserve where they’ keep at all times $3,000,000 worth of leaf curing slowly— mellowing thoroughly. Try Owl—that’s my advice. Only ob- serve the game laws—/eave plenty for me! straight NATIONAL BRANDS $3.75 NEW YORK CITY Box of 50; vee OW L oye-bateas MAVCo ka ate shccnitaet sierete! EVENING POST was my settled and profound conviction that the time had come for Russia to raise with her Allies—as was her incontestable | right—the question of the timeliness, nay, urgency of initiating serious steps with a view to the earliest possible conclusion of a general peace. This conviction was based on the follow- ing considerations: The coming of a revolu- tion in Russia was a matter of certainty; its coming was not dependent on the issue of the war, whether victorious or otherwise; indeed, it would not wait for such an issue to be decided one way or the other, since it would be primarily a revolt against the war itself; this revolt would be the result- ant of elemental forces working among the inarticulate masses of the people—sick of a war, with all its attendant suffering and misery, inflicted on them by their rulers— and not of German intrigues in court or government circles, as propaganda with in- conceivable purblindness would have it, pre- sumably in the naive belief that the fighting spirit of the people could be roused by such insinuations; the army was no longer com- posed of first-class troops such as by the hundred thousand had laid down their lives on the battlefields of East Prussia, Poland and Galicia; they were mainly reserve troops, commanded by a sadly thinned-out corps of officers also largely composed of officers of the reserve or promoted from the ranks; in a word, largely hordes of armed peasants, whose hearts were not at the front but in their abandoned homes, and who in case of a revolution would be sure to side | with whosoever would bring them the peace they longed for. The outbreak of the revolution was merely a question of time, of a few months at t} > utmost, and there was only one way in which it could be prevented and the coun- try be saved from the catastrophe that was | staring it in the face, and that was the conclusion of peace. When I say peace I always mean a general peace and not a sep- arate peace with Germany. The moment was favorable for the initiation of peace negotiations; the brilliant campaign of General Yudenitch in Asia Minor and Gen- eral Broussiloff’s victorious advance in Galicia, which had helped to avert disaster from Italy, had redeemed the glory of the Russian arms, and Russia presented still— at least in appearance—a very formidable and threatening front to the enemy; it was no less to the interest of our Allies to seize the opportunity for the initiation of such negotiations whilst Russia was still stand- ing erect, because a coalition being a chain the strength of which is dependent on the strength of its weakest link, prudent fore- sight would have suggested to them the advantage of not waiting until that weak- ness had become a breakdown inevitable in case of a revolution. All these considerations, whose sound-- ness subsequent events have confirmed, it was not my province to expose to the Allies. That, and not futile attempts at concealing from them the truth, was the plain duty of whosoever was responsible for the conduct of our foreign policy. It was a duty of honor and loyalty to our Allies no less than a sacred duty to our Sovereign, our coun- | try and our nation, whose salvation de- pended on the earliest possible conclusion of peace. As for me, all I could do was to try to press these considerations upon the atten- tion of those who were in charge of our policies. I attempted to do so with Stuermer; with his successor, Pokroffsky; and, after the revolution, with the Provisional Gov- ernment first of Prince Lwoff and then of Kerensky; and never ceased my efforts until the very eve of the Bolshevist revolu- tion, of whose impending advent I warned them as an inevitable consequence of their obstinate persistence in a policy that could end only in throwing the country into the abyss of anarchy and civil war. My expectation that our Allies, if ap- proached in the proper way, would be will- ing to enter into our view of the situation and to act accordingly, was naturally based on the supposition that their statesmen would not consider the downfall and dis- memberment of Russia to be desirable in the interest of their countries, as for various reasons some politicians in both countries seemed to think. Also, it was not in that quarter—if, as I said, approached in the proper way and with unreserved frank- | ness—that J apprehended that the chief difficulty would be encountered, but rather in the fatuous blindness and glaring incom- petence of those in whose hands a cruel fate October 9,1920 had placed the conduct of Russia’s foreign policy, an apprehension which subsequent events have proved to have been but too well founded. There was, however, another way in which the initiation of peace negotiations could have been brought about, and that was through the intervention of a league of nations headed by the United States. Noth- ing short of such a league would have had sufficiently authoritative influence on the ublic mind in both belligerent camps to induce them to accept mediation with a view to the conclusion of a peace by nego- tiation. No close observer of the political situa- tion could have failed to realize that the direction of affairs on both sides had slipped, or was about to slip, from the hands of statesmanship, and would hence- forth be swayed by that mentality which can see no other possible termination of a war but by a knock-out blow, crushing of the adversary and peace by dictation. That is why the profound wisdom of President Wilson’s eloquent words when he spoke of peace without victory failed of its effect on those for whose ears these words were intended, and merely excited the un- limited indignation of war propaganda. The results of the unrestrained workings of this kind of mentality the world is witness- ing now, still apparently unable to realize the full extent of its catastrophal meaning. In connection with the banquet that was given in our honor by the government at Lancaster House a little incident occurred which, quite insignificant in itself, repre- sented nevertheless a little rift in the lute of our companionship in the parliamentary delegation, and which caused me, so as to avoid its possible widening, to remain be- hind when my colleagues left for Paris and Rome. It happened in this way: On the day before the banquet our Ambassador sent me word that it had been decided, accord- ing to customary etiquette, that I as ranking member of the delegation from our upper house should reply to the Prime Minister’s speech on behalf of the Council of the Empire. To this arrangement, how- ever, three of my colleagues demurred on the ground that I was an appointed and therefore, properly speaking, not a repre- sentative member of the council, and that moreover my name was a German one. The unanswerable character of the first reason given I could only acknowledge; and to the second one I could not take exception, since in view of the war it had been considered advisable to rechristen St. Petersburg as Petrograd, and I could not repudiate my name, of which I had no reason to be ashamed. Upon my return to Russia I found the situation by no means improved. The ship of state seemed to be drifting, rudderless and helpless; steersmen being changed to all appearances quite aimlessly; Sazonoff, a man, however incompetent as a statesman, at least experienced in the handling of the business of his office, was replaced by Stuermer, a man absolutely incapable and entirely ignorant of foreign affairs. Proto- popoff was appointed Minister of the Interior, it was said because he had been recommended for the post by the Empress at the instigation of Rasputin. But the most important, and in its far-reaching consequences most fatal measure was decided upon at a council of ministers pre- sided over by the Emperor at the head- quarters of the army at Mohileff. General Alexeeff, the Emperor's chief of staff and practically commander in chief of the army, had demanded the immediate mobilization of twelve million men to pro- vide for the replenishing of possible losses during the year, without which he declared he could not undertake to continue the campaign. All the ministers had energetically pro- tested against this measure, to be taken at harvest time, when all available hands were needed for securing the crops, not to mention that the infallible effect of this mobilization would obviously be the creation of a gigantic army which could not be utilized at the front and would have to be spread all over the country in readiness for the coming revolution. General Alexe- eff, however, remained obdurate, and the Emperor finally sided with him. It seems as if nothing was to be left undone that could insure the downfall of the empire and the ruin of the nation. Editor’s Note—This is the twenty-fifth of a series of articles by Baron Rosen. The next will appear in an early issue | } | | }

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST om | AE Tete) of y Mackina 7 MAE BY W weg tH) Cr eee ee ik te d aAtLvtvo IRDS on the wing—frost in the air—these are the days when you long to be out of doors! \ fe Pot Hunter, hiker, worker—if you are out in the open, a Jacobs’ Oregon City an 4 f Rw \ L Mackinaw is an ideal garment for you! All wool—staunch, sturdy, warm. ae ¢ NVR #, These mackinaws are tailored in our own shops with care and skill in RX i) ae hs £& keeping with the all-wool fabrics woven in our mills. ‘Woven Where the Wool is Grown Variety enough in style, pattern and color to please every taste. Collars ————————— ee 7 a's ear, = he that roll as well as button high. Half belts or full belts. Rich tones and overplaids. Full of style and full of service. Men and boys of the West have known and worn Jacobs’ Oregon City ; Mackinaws for many years. All over the country, they are being worn now. Ask your dealer to show them to you. “Woven where the Wool is Grown’’—a story of Western woolens will be sent to you upon request Jacobs’ Oregon City Overcoats and Mackinaws— Superior all-wool quality— moderately priced Oregon City Woolen Mills Founded in 1864 by I. & R. Jacobs Mills and Tailoring Shops at Oregon City, Oregon 1! Sales Offices—New York Chicago Minneapolis ( Portland Seattle Salt Lake City \ Ja cob Ss Weavers and Makers of — e Overcoats I Mackinaws Flannel Shirts Indian Robes Motor Robes Woolens nar Designing new models in Overcoats and Mackinaws which we make from Jacobs’ Oregon City Woolens

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST NNN October 9,1920 MALAAALALLe” A test that proves the quality of Kerry Process Screws HEstaminaof Ferry Process Screws has been proved by nearly ten years of contin- uous rugged service in Federal trucks. As shown above, the func- tion of these screws is most important —for it is their task to hold the heavy Federal motor to the chassis. Only screws of the most flawless steel can be used for this purpose — screws that can stand the constant pounding of mighty driving pistons and the wrenching torsional strains that the truck must often undergo. That Ferry Process Screws have successfully “stood up” under these strains is evidenced by the following letter from the Federal Motor Truck Company: * For the past nine years we have had the pleasure of using Ferry products and feel that the efforts put forth by your organization in giving us real serv ice and the material we want at all times is worthy of comment “Your organization has always han- died our orders promptly and to our entire satisfaction both as to work- manship and material. We look for- ward to a continuance of our good business relations in the future.” *“* * * Since 1907, when Thomas Ferry came forth with a wholly new principle in screw-making, Ferry Process Screws have won an enviable reputation in the manu- facturing world. Many other leading manufacturers besides Federal have put the stamp of their approval upon Ferry methods and Ferry products. This new beta in screw- making completely reverses the old method. Instead of taking a steel bar the size of the head and tediously milling it to the right size, the Ferry Proc- ess begins with a size and shape would disturb the molecular structure of the steel. Out of this problem cameThomas Ferry’s ingenious invention —a matrix, or die, in which the head is formed by proper compression. The head is Enished, the end pointed, the shank threaded to micrometer exactness, with Pratt & Whitney gauges as standard. The Ferry heat treatment insures uniformity in strength. These steps are performed by patented Ferry equipment — high-speed automatic machines and special tools. The result is the Ferry Process bar of steel the size 4 of the shank, thus avoiding a great waste of both time and raw material. The matrix-com- pression principle But the real prob- lem was to form the head. To batter on a shapeless knob, and then to cut it to The Old Way a oe Screw —as perfect as modern science can make it. * xs & | Ferry Process Screws are used in =) vast quantities,and for varying pur- poses, by many of the largest manu- facturers in Amer- ican industry. In many cases their use The Ferry Way 4 : ota was specified only after the most thorough tests and comparisons. Among these important users, besides Federal, may be listed the following well-known concerns: American Seeding Machine Co. Buffalo Forge Company Buick Motor Co. Chain Belt Company Chandler Motor Car Company Dodge Steel Pulley Corporation Eberhard Mfg. Co. Gendron Wheel Co. B. F. Goodrich Rubber Co. Hinkley Motors Corporation Holt Mfg. Co. A. Y. McDonald Mfg. Co. Maxwell Motor Car Co. Oakland Motor Car Co. Oliver Chilled Plow Works Paige-Detroit Motor Car Co. Scripps-Booth Corporation Stewart-Warner Speedometer Corp. Studebaker Corporation Timken-Detroit Axle Co. The White Company Ferry Process Screws will meet your requirements just as they are meeting the requirements of these prominent manufacturing firms. Whatever your needs, standard or special—in cap screws, set screws, milled studs, con- necting rod bolts and screw machine products —an opportunity to consider your specifications will be appreciated. Tue Ferry Cap anv Set Screw Company, 2151 Scranton Road, Cleveland, Ohio FERRY PROCESS SCREWS

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he stood; all of which, as Red Hoss figured it, was none of his affair. Had he known more he might have moved more slowly; indeed might have stopped moving alto- gether. But—I ask you—how was Red Hoss to know that the chief bull handler for Powers Brothers was engaged in super- intending the unloading of his large living charges from their traveling accommoda- tions in the bull car? There were three of these bulls, all of them being of the gentler sex. Perhaps it might be well to explain here that the word “bull,” in the language of the white tops, means elephant. To a showman all cow elephants are bulls just as in a mid- Victorian day, more refined than this one, all authentic bulls were, to cultured people, cows, Obeying the insistent request of their master, forth now and down a wooden runway filed the members of Powers Brothers’ World Famous Troupe of Pon- derous Pachydermic Performers. First came Lena, then Baby Doll and last of all the mighty Queenie; and in this order they lumberingly proceeded, upon huge but silent feet, to follow him alongside the cindered right of way, feeling their way through the fog. . Now it is a fact well established in natural history—and in this instance was to prove a lamentable one—that elephants, unlike lightning bugs, carry no tail lamps. Of a sudden Red Hoss was aware of a vast, indefinite, mouse-colored bulk looming di- rectly in the path before him. He braked hard and tried to swing out, but he was too close upon the obstacle to avoid a collision. With a loud metallic smack the bow of the swerving taxicab, coming up from the rear, treacherously smote the mastodonic Queenie right where her wrinkles were thickest. Her knees bent forward, and in- voluntarily she squatted. She squatted, as one might say, on all points south. Simultaneously there was an agonized squeal from Queenie and a crunching sound from behind and somewhat under her, and the tragic deed was done. The radiator of Red Hoss’ car looked something like a concertina which had seen hard usage and something like a folded-in crush hat, but very little, if any, like a radiator. At seven o'clock next morning, when Mr. Farrell arrived at his establishment, his stricken gaze fastened upon a new car of his which had become to all intents and purposes practically two-thirds of a car. The remnant stood at the curbing, where his service car, having towed it in, had left it as though the night foreman had been unwilling to give so complete a ruin stor- age space within the garage. Alongside the wreckage was Red Hoss, endeavoring more or less unsuccessfully to make himself small and inconspicuous. Upon him men- acingly advanced his employer “The second time in forty-e ight hours for you, eh?”’ said Mr. Farrell. ‘* Well, boy, you do work fast! Come on now, and give me the cold facts. How did the whole front end of this car come to get mashed off?” Tone and mien alike were threatening. Red Hoss realized there was no time for extended preliminary remarks. From him the truth came trippingly on the tongue. “Boss, man, I ain’t aimin’ to tell you no lies dis time. I comes clean.” “Come clean and come fast.” “A elephint set down on it.” “What!” “I sez, suh, a elephint set down on it.” In moments of stress, when tempted be- yond his powers of self-control, Mr. Farrell was accustomed to punctuate physically, as it were, the spoken word. What he said all he said—before emotion choked him was: ‘“Why—you—you ——” What he did was this: His right arm crooked up- ward like a question mark; it straightened downward like an exclamation point; his fist made a period, or, as the term goes, a full stop on the point of Red Hoss Shackle- ford’s jaw. What Red Hoss saw resembled this: oS ee & #o¢@ © Only they were all printed flashingly in bright primary colors, reds and greens pre- dominating. As the last gay asterisk faded from before his blinking eyes Red Hoss found himself sitting down on a hard concrete sidewalk. Coincidentally other discoveries made themselves manifest to his understanding. One was that the truth which often is stranger than fiction may also on occasion be a more dangerous commodity to handle. Another was that abruptly he had severed all business connections with Mr. Lee Far- rell’s industry. His resignation had been accepted on the spot, and the spot was the bulge of his left jaw. Somewhat dazed, filled with an inarticu- late but none the less sincere conviction that there was neither right nor justice left in a misshapen world, Red Hoss got up and went away from there. He deemed it the part of prudence to go utterly and swiftly away from there. It seemed probable that at any moment Mr. Farrell might emerge from his inner office, whither, as might be noted through an open window, he had retired to pour cold water on. his bruised knuckles, and get violent again. The lan- guage he was using so indicated. Presently Red Hoss, with one side of his face slightly swollen and a curious taste in his mouth, might have been seen boarding a Locust Street car southbound. He was on his way to Mechaniesville. In the back part of his brain lurked vaguely a project to seek out the man who owned those ele- phants and plead for some fashion of redress for painful injuries innocently sus- tained. Perhaps the show gentleman might incline a charitable ear upon hearing Red Hoss’ story. Just how the sufferer would go about the formality of presenting him- self to the consideration of the visiting dig- nitary he did not yet know. It was all nebulous and cloudy; a contingency to be shaped by circumstances as they might de- velop. Really sympathy was the balm Red Hoss craved most. He quit the car when the car quit him at the end of the line where the iron bridge across Island Creek marked the boundary between the municipality and its prin- cipal suburb. Even at this hour Me- chaniesville’s broadest highway abounded in fascinating sights and alluring zoélogical aromas. The carnival formally would not open till the afternoon, but by Powers Brothers’ crews things already had been prepared against the coming of that time. In all available open spaces, such as vacant lots abutting upon the sidewalks and the junctions of cross streets, booths and tents and canvas-walled arenas had been set up. Boys of assorted sizes and colors hung in expectant clumps about marquees and show fronts. of adults of the resident leisure class, a ma- jority of these being members of Red Hoss’ own race, moved back and forth through the line of fairings, inspired by the prospect of seeing something interesting without having to pay for it. Red Hoss forgot temporarily the more-or- less indefinite purpose which had brought him hither. He joined a cluster of watch- ful persons who hopefully had collected before the scrolled and ornamented wooden entrance of a tarpaulin structure larger than any of the rest. From beneath the red-and-gold portico of this edifice there issued a blocky man in a checkered suit, with a hard hat draped prec ariously over one ear and with a magnificent jewel gleaming out of the bosom of a collarless shirt. All things about this man stamped him as one having authority over the housed mysteries roundabout. Visibly he rayed that aura of proprietorship common to some monarchs and to practically all owners of traveling caravansaries. Seeing him, Red Hoss promptly detached himself from the group he had just joined, and ad- vanced, having it in mind to seek speech with this superior-appearing personage. The white man beat him to it. “Say, boy, that’s right, keep a-coming,” he called. His experienced eye appraised Red Hoss’ muscular proportions. ‘Do you want a job?” “Whut kinder job, boss?” “Best job you ever had in your life,” declared the white man. ‘You get four- teen a week and cakes. Get me? Fourteen dollars just as regular as Saturday night comes, and your scoffing free—all the chow ou can eat thrown in. Then you hear the bend play absolutely free of charge, and you see the big show six times a day with- out having to pay for it, and you travel round and see the country. Don’t that scund good to you? Oh, yes, there’s one thing else!’”” He dangled a yet more allur- ing temptation. ‘And you wear a red coat with brass buttons on it and a cap with a plume in it.” THE SATURDAY fl SHORT NATURAL HISTORY (Continued from Page 5) EVENING POST en er 4 Heat, Comfort and Fuel Economy for only $182 Che Little Draft-Man “Furnace |%| Regulator OU CAN CUT FUEL BILLS this winter and yet be more comfortable than ever before. The “Little Draft-Man’”’ Furnace Regulator accomplishes this because it provides just the right amount of air for perfect fuel combustion at all furnace heats. It so perfectly consumes fuel that no half-burned coals are left to fall into the ash-pit and be wasted. Moreover, under “Little Draft-Man” control, furnace heat increases just rapidly enough to ignite gases and soot usually wasted through the chim ney flue. Because the “Little Draft-Man” assures gradual warming and cooling of the furnace, dangerous warping of furnace parts is prevented and the life of the fire-pot and the entire furnace is lengthened. Besides saving fuel and furnace repair costs, the “Little Draft-Man” safeguards health; it provides uniform house temperatures. The “Little Draft-Man” assures a warm house at ’rising time —it auto- matically opens the furnace at any pre-determined time and lets you sleep longer in the morning. Comple ting, as it does, the service of your heating plant, the “Little Draft-Man” increases property value, to say nothing of the time, labor and steps it saves. The “Little Draft-Man” is a simple mechanical device without electrical connections or complicated mechanism which is mounted at elbow height on the wall of any room in the house and operates your furnace draft and damper by means of positive chain connec tions direct from its graduated control lever. It is set as simply as an alarm clock and operates like a self-starter on an automobile. It is installed in a few moments on any furnace and can be operated by any member of the family. Also a numerous assemblage | The ‘Little Draft-Man"’ is supplied as regular equipment on the products of leading furnace manufacturers. It is sold by progressive furnace and furnace supply dealers everywhere. If your dealer cannot supply you at once, write us direct, Sahlin Manufacturing Company 21 Ottawa Avenue, N. W. Grand Rapids, Michigan Canadian Distributors, McClary’s, London, Ontario TAHA Hil Wt

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146 THE SATURDAY “Please Taste Them” Van Camp’s— The New-Way Baked Beans Our Domestic Science experts delight in Van Camp's Pork and Beans. And to millions of homes they send out this urge to try them, lor decades we, like others, baked beans in old ways. Then we brought here famous chefs, Then college-trained scientific cooks. Then women schooled in modern culinary arts, And they worked for years to perfect this famous dish, Then we built this kitchen—the finest in the world—at a cost of $1,700,000, And here, with every facility, they produce these new-style beans. The modern way The beans are selected by analysis. The boiling water is freed from miner als which make skins tough The baking is done in steam ovens Thus high heat can be long applied without bursting or crisping the beans In the old ways of baking, beans were hard to digest They are baked in sealed containers so no flavor can escape. They are baked with a matchless sauce, so every atom shares the tang and zest The result is beans whole and mel low, flavory, zestful, easy to digest. It has brought to millions a new concep- Ask the men tion of baked beans. ( ompare it, tor M . Van Camp's. Countless restaurants serve your own sake, with the beans you at ploase the Watch the man when Van Canny Mark how well he likes them, know Pork and Beans Three sizes, to serve 3,5 or10 Baked With the Van Camp Sauce — Also Without It Other Van Camp Products Include Soups Franporated Milk Spaghetti Peanut Butter Chill Coa Carne Cateup Chili Sauce, et« Prepared in the Van Camp Kitchens at Indianapolis EE — was 7 MILK = ‘ —— 4 fan Ce »’ . ’ ; . ° " = _ io Van Camp's Van Camp's 4 ™ . 2 - : . Spaghetti Evaporated Milk Or t! a . t : 1s kind Italian style, but made with Fully twice as rich as milk ee ee the rarest ingredients, man's milk-like cream EVENING POST “Sho’ does sound good,” said Red Hoss, warming. ‘‘ Whut else I got to do, cunnel?”’ “Oh, just odd jobs round this pitch here—this animal show.” “Hole on, please, boss! I don’t have no truck wid elephints, does I?” “Nope. The elephants are down the | line in a separate outfit of their own. You work with this show—clean out the cages and little things like that. Don’t get worried,” he. added quickly, interpreting aright a look of sudden concern upon Hoss’ face. “‘ You don’t have to go inside the cages to clean ’em out. You stay out- side and do it with a long-handled tool. I had a good man on this job, but he quit on me unexpectedly night before last.” The speaker failed to explain that the recent incumbent had quit thus abruptly as a result of having a forearm deed by a lady leopard named Violet. “*Bout how long is dis yere job liable to last?” inquired Red Hoss. “You see, cunnel, Ise ‘spectin’ to have some right important private business in dis town "fore so very long.” “Then this is the very job you want. After we leave here to-morrow night we strike down across the state line and play three more stands, and then we wind up with a week in Memphis. We close up the season there and go into winter quarters, and you come on back home. What's your | name?” “My full entitled name is Roscoe | Conklin’ Shackleford, but ‘count of my havin’ a kinder brightish complexion dey mos’ gin’rally calls me Red Hoss. I reckin mebbe dey’s Injun blood flowin’ in me.” “All right, Red Hoss, let it flow. You just come on with me and I'll show you what you'll have to do. My name is Powers—Captain Powers.” Proudly sensing that already he was an envied figure in the eyes of the group be- hind him, Red Hoss followed the command- ing Powers back through a canvas-sided marquee into a circular two-poled tent. There were no seats. The middle spaces were empty. Against the side walls were ranged four cages. One housed a pair of black bears of a rather weather-beaten and travel-worn aspect. Next to the bears, the lady leopard, Violet, through the bars con- templated space, meanwhile wearing that air of intense boredom peculiar to most caged animals. A painted inscription above the front of the third cage identified its occupant as none other than The Educated Ostrich; the Bird That Thinks. Red Hoss’ conductor indicated these pos- sessions with a lordly wave of his arm, then led the way to the fourth cage. It was the largest cage of all; it was painted a bright and passionate red. It had gilded scrollings on it. Upon the ornamented facade which crossed its front from side to side a lettered | legend ran. Red Hoss spelled out the pro- |} nouncement: Chieftain, King of Feline Acrobats! The Largest Black-maned Nubian Lion in Cap- tivity! Danger! The face of the cage was boarded half- way up, but above the top line of the planked cross panel Red Hoss could make out in the foreground of the dimmed in- terior a great tawny shape, and at the back, in one corner, an orderly clutter of objects painted a uniform circus blue. There was a barrel or two, an enormous wooden ball, a collapsible fold-up seesaw and other im- xedimenta of a trained-animal act. Red ioss had heard that the lion was a noble | brute—in short, was the king of beasts. He now was prepared to swear it had a noble smell. Beneath the cage a white man in overalls slumbered audibly upon a tar- paulin folded into a pallet. “There's the man you take your orders from if you join us,” explained Powers, flirting a thumb toward the sleeper. “Name of Riley, he is. But you draw your pay from me.”” With his arm he described a circle. ‘‘And here’s the stock you help take care of. The only one you need to be careful about is that leopard over yonder. She gets a little peevish once in a while. Well, I would sort of keep an eye on the | ostrich here alongside you too. The old | bird’s liable to cut loose when you ain’t looking and kick the taste out of your mouth, You give them both their dis- tances. But those bears behind you is just the same as a pair of puppies, and old Chieftain here—well, he looks pretty fierce and he acts sort of fierce too when he’s called on for it, but it’s just acting with him; he’s trained to it. Off watch, he’s just as gentle as an overgrown kitten. Riley handles him and works him, and all October 9,1920 you've got to do when Riley is putting him through his stunts is to stand outside here and hand him things he wants in through the bars. Well, is it a go? Going to take the job?” “Boss,” said Red Hoss, ‘ late—I done already tooken it.’ “Good!” said Powers. ‘‘That’s the way I love to do business—short and sweet. You hang round for an hour or two and sort of yet acquainted with things until Riley has his nap out. When he wakes up, if I ain’t back by that time, you tell him you’re the new helper, and he’ll wise you up.” “Yas suh,” said Red Hoss. “But say, boss, ’scuse me, but did I understand you to mention dat eatin’ was in de contract?” “Sure! Hungry already?” “Well, suh, you see I mos’ gin’rally starts de day off wid breakfust, an’ to tell you de truth I ain’t had nary grain of break- fust yit!” “Got the breakfast habit, eh? Well, come on with me to the cook house and I'll see if there ain’t something left over.” Despite the nature of his calling as a tamer of ferocious denizens of the tropic jungle, Mr. Riley, upon wakening, proved to be a person of a fairly amiable } ewer tion. He made it snappy but not unduly burdensome as he initiated Red Hoss into the rudimentary phases of the new employ- ment. As the forenoon wore on the con- viction became fixed in Red Hoss’ mind that for an overlord he had a white man who would be apt to listen to reason touch- ing on any proposition promising personal profits with no personal risks. Sharp upon this diagnosis of his new master’s character, a magnificent idea, de- scending without warning like a bolt from the blue, struck Red Hoss on top of his head and bored in through ‘his skull and took prompt root in his entranced and dazzled brain. It was a gorgeous concep- tion; one which promised opulent returns for comparatively minor exertions. To carry it out, though, required coéperation, and in Riley he saw with a divining glance or thcught he saw—the hope of that codp- eration. In paving the way for confidential re- lations he put to Riley certain leading questions artfully disguised, and at the beginning seemingly artlessly presented. By the very nature of Riley’s answers he was further assured of the safety of the ground on which he trod, whereupon Red Hoss cautiously broached the project, going on to amplify it in glowing colors the while Riley hearkened attentively It was a sheer rt many to outline a proposition to a white gentleman who re- ceived it so agreeably. Fifteen minutes after the first tentative overtures had been thrown out feelerwise, Red Hoss found that he and Riley were in complete accord on all salient points. Indeed they already were as partners jointly committed to a joint undertaking. After the third and last afternoon per- formance, in which Red Hoss, wearing a proud mien and a somewhat spotty uniform coat, had acquitted himself in all regards creditably, Riley gave him a leave of ab- sence of two hours, ostensibly for the pur- pose of quitting his boarding house and collecting his traveling wardrobe. As a matter of fact, these details really required but a few minutes, and it had been privily agreed between them that the rest of the time should be devoted by Red Hoss to setting in motion the actual preliminaries of their scheme. This involved a personal call upon Mr. Moe Rosen, who conducted athide, pelt, rag, junk, empty-bottle and old-iron em- porium on lower Court Street, just off the Market Square. September’s hurried twi- light had descended upen the town when the scouting conspirator tapped for admis- sion at the alley entrance to the back room of Mr..Rosen’s establishment, where the owner sat amid a variegated assortment of choicer specimens culled from his collected wares. Mr. Rosen needed no sign above his door to inform the passing public of the nature of his business. When the wind was right you could stand two blocks away and know it without being told. Here at Mr. Rosen’s side door Red Hoss smacked his nostrils appreciatively. Even to one newly come from a wild-animal show, and even when smelled through a brick wall, Mr. Rosen’s place had a graphic and striking atmosphere which was all its own. As one well acquainted with the under- currents of community life, Red Hoss (Continued on Page 149) ‘you speaks | |

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST | 7 \/\ Quality Goes Clear Through B YY | . | Over a period of time the majority of auto- mobile buyers can be counted upon with certainty to single out the really good car | from the mediocre with unerring accuracy. And so it has come about that each year has recorded a very impressive increase in the number of buyers who register a decided preference for the Dort. The faithful dependability of the car, its rare need for mechanical attention, its long per- formance life, and the uncommon calibre of its operative thrift have made their impres- sion upon the minds and hearts of motorists. Frankly, we regard the great national growth in Dort prestige as, in some ways, the most desirable endorsement the car could possibly receive. For the monthly and yearly increases in sales while large have never been irregular. It has been a sure and steady mounting toward higher and higher totals. The long list of Dort owners — numbering now well-nigh 80,000 —is not the result of a fad but the conclusion of a serious search forthe most desirable automobile investment. PRICES ‘ Touring Car - . . $1085 { Roadster - - - LORS Fourseason Sedan : - 1765 Fourseason Coupé - 1765 Fk. O. B. Factory Wire whee ind spare tires extra 4 ) f i} 4 . { DORT MOTOR CAR COMPANY “Fling-Mich.

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148 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST | | L I f Armstrong / nthe new Oregon Si Capitol Look tor the CIRCLE A’ trademark on the burlap back twentieth-century conception of all that is restful, safe, useful, lasting, warm, cleanly, silent, and beautiful in the underfoot part of building. Cemented down firmly (over builders’ deadening felt paper), Armstrong’s Lino- leum makesa permanent, long-wearing floor. Because of its durability and resiliency eight thousand yards were used on the decks of the new U. S. dreadnought, the Tennessee. Armstrong’s Linoleum is splendidly adapted to fireproof construction of public buildings, offices, hospitals, stores, libraries, churches, and schools. No sleepers are required. The linoleum relieves the hard- ness of the concrete base and provides a comfortable, resilient floor. U/nderfoot Science . at HIS linoleum floor is the In comparison to wood floors, October 9,1920 the upkeep cost is small; it is easier and quicker to clean and keep in good condition and does not require expensive refinishing. If you are planning a new building, consult your architect about Armstrong’s Linoleum floors. We can furnish him with data and specifications. Write for our book, ‘Business Floors.”’ It contains photographs of actual installa- tions, plates of various colors and designs, and recommendations for different uses; also specifications for laying linoleum floors and directions for their care. Ask us to send you the name of a merchant near you who is equipped to furnish estimates and do satisfactory laying. ARMstRONG Cork Company, LiInoLeumM DerarTMENT Y/4 Liberty Street, Lancaster, Pennsylvania Armstrongs Linoleum For Business Floors j 4

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(Continued from Page 146) shared, with many others, the knowledge that Mr. Rosen, while ostensibly engaged in one industry, carried on another as a sort of clandestine by-product. Now this side line, though surreptitiously conducted and perilous in certain of its aspects, was believed by the initiated to be really more lucrative than his legitimatized and avowed calling. Mr. Rosen was by way of being— by a roundabout way of being--what technically is known as a bootlegger. He bootlegged upon a larger scale than do most of those pursuing this precarious avocation. It was stated in an earlier paragraph that national prohibition had not yet come to pass. But already local option held the adjoining commonwealth of Tennessee in a firm and arid grasp; wherefore Mr. Rosen’s private dealings largely had to do with dis- creet clients thirstily residing below the state line. It was common rumor in cer- tain quarters that lately this traffic had suffered a most disastrous interruption. Tennessee revenue agents suddenly had evinced an unfriendly curiosity touching on vehicular movements from the Ken- tucky side. A considerable chunk of Mr. Rosen's profits for the current year had been irre- trievably swallowed up when a squad of these suspicious excisemen laid their de- taining hands upon a sizable order of case stuff which—disguised and broadly labeled as crated household goods—was traveling southward by nightfall in a truck, heading toward a destination in a district which that truck was destined never to reach. Bottle by bottle the aromatic contents of the packages had been poured into the wayside ditch to be sucked up by an unap- preciative if porous soil. The truck itself had been confiscated. Its driver barely had escaped, to return homeward afoot across country bearing dire tidings to his em- ployer, who was reported, upon hearing the lamentable news, literally to have scrambled the air with disconsolate flap- pings of -his hands, meanwhile uttering shrill cries of grief. Moreover, as though to top this stroke of ill luck, further activities in the direction of his most profitable market practically had been brought to a standstill by reason of enhanced vigilance on the part of the Tennessee authorities along the main high- roads running north and south. Between supply and demand, or perhaps one should say between purveyor and consumer, the boundary mark dividing the sister com- monwealths stretched its dead line like a narrow river of despair. It was not to be wondered at, therefore, that the sorely pes- tered Mr. Rosen should be at this time a prey to care so carking as to border on forthright melancholia. Never a particu- larly cheerful person, at Red Hoss’ soft knock upon his outer door he raised a countenance completely clothed in morose- ness where not clothed in whiskers and grunted briefly—a sound which might or might not be taken as an invitation to enter. Nor was his greeting, following upon the caller's soft-footed entrance, cal- culated to promote cordial intercourse. “What you want, nigger?’’ he demanded, breaking in on Red Hoss’ politely phrased greeting. Then without waiting for a re- ply, ‘‘ Well, whatever it is, you don’t get it. Get out!” Nevertheless, Red Hoss came right on in. Carefully he closed the door behind him, shutting himself in with Mr. Rosen and privacy and a symposium of strong, rich smells. “’Scuse me, Mist’ Rose: ", ” he said, “‘fur bre’kin’ in on you lak dis, but I got a little sumpin’ to say to you in mos’ strictes’ confidence. Seems lak to me I heared tell lately dat you'd had a little trouble wid some white folkses down de line. Co’se dat ain’t none o’ my business. I jes’ men- tioned it so’s you'd uncerstan’ whut it is I wants to talk wid you about.” He drew up an elbow length away from Mr. Rosen and sank his voice to an inti- mate half whisper. “ Mist’ Rosen, le’s you an’ me do a little s’posin’. Le’s s’posen’ you has a bar’l of vinegar or molasses or sumpin’ which you wants delivered to a frien’ in Memphis, Tennessee. Seems lak I has heared somewhars dat you already is got a frien’ or two in Memphis, Tennessee? All right den! S’posin’, den, dat you wrote to your frien’ dat dis yere bar’l would be comin’ along to him inside of a week or ten days f’'um now wid me in de full charge of it. S’posin’, den, on top o’ dat I could guar- antee you to deliver dat bar’l to ycur frien’ THE SATURDAY widout nobody botherin’ dat bar’l on de way, and widout nobody "spectin’ whut wuz in dat bar’l, an’ widout nobody axin’ no hard questions about dat bar’. §’ posin’ all dem things, ef you please, suh, an’ den I axes you dis question: How much would dat favor be wuth to you in cash money?” As a careful business man, Mr. Rosen very properly pressed for further particu- lars before in any way committing himself in the matter of the amount of remunera- tion to be paid for the accommodation pro- | posed. At this evidence of interest on the other’s part Red Hoss grinned in happy optimism. “Mist’ Rosen, *twon’t hardly be no trouble a-tall,’”’ he stated. “In de fust place, you teks a pot o’ blue paint an’ you aints dat bar’l blue f'um head to foot. e bluer dat bar’l is de more safer she'll be. An’ to mek sure dat de color will be right yere’s a sample fur you to go by.” With that, Red Hoss produced from a hip pocket a sliver of plank painted on both sides in the cerulean hue universally fa- vored by circus folk for covering seat boards, tent poles and such paraphernalia of a portable caravansary as is subject to rough treatment and frequent handling. At this the shock of surprise was such as almost to lift Mr. Rosen up on top of the cluttered desk which separated him from his visitor. It did lift him halfway out of his chair. “Nigger,” he declared incredulously, “you talk foolishness! A mile away those dam Tennessee constables would be able to see a plain barrel which ain't got no paint on it at all, and now you tell me I should paint a barrel so blue as the sky, and yet it should get through from here to Memphis. Are you crazy in the head or something, or do you maybe think I am?” “Nummine dat,” went on Red Hoss. “You do lak I tells you, an’ you paints de bar’l right away so de paint’ll git good an’ dry twixt now an’ We'n’sday night. Come We'n’sday night, you loads dat blue bar’l in a waggin an’ covers it up an’ you fetches it to me at de back do’ of de main wild ani- mal tent of dat carnival show which is now gwine on up yere in Mechanicsville. Don’t go to de tent whar de elephints is. Go to de tent whar de educated ostrich is. Dar you'll fin’ me. I done tuk a job as de fust chief ’sistant wild-animal trainer, an’ right dar I'll be waitin’. Se den you turns de bar’l over to me an’ you goes on back home an’ you furgits all "bout it. Den in "bout two weeks mo’ when I gits back yere I brings you a piece o’ writin’ f'um de gen’leman in Memphis sayin’ dat de bar’l has been delivered to him in good order, an’ den you pays me de rest o' de money dat’s comin’ to me.” He had a canny second thought. ‘‘Mebbe,” he added, “‘mebbe it would be better for all concern’ ef you wrote to yore frien’ in Memphis to hand me over de rest of de money when I delivers de bar’l. Yassuh, I reckins dat would be de best.” “The rest of what mone y? * demanded Mr. Rosen sharply. ‘I ain't sdid nothing about giving no mone y to nobody. What do you mean—money?”’ “T mean de rest of de money which’ll be comin’ to me ez my share,” explained Red Hoss patiently. ‘‘ De white man dat’s goin’ to he’p me wid dis yere job, he ‘sists p’intedly dat he must have his share paid down cash in advance ’count of him not bein’ able to come back yere an’ collek it fur hisse’f, an’ likewise ‘count of him not keerin’ to have no truck wid de gen’leman at de other end of de line. De way he put it, he wants all of hissen ‘fore he starts But me, Ise willin’ to wait fur de bes’ part of mine anyhow. So dat’s how it stands, Mist’ Rosen, an’ ’se usin’ you an’ me an’ dis yere white man an’ your frien’ in Mem- phis, dey ain’t nary pusson gwine know nothin’ "bout it a-tall, ’ce ptin’ mebbe hit’s de lion. An’ ez fur dat, w'y de lion don’t count noways, ’count of him not talkin’ no language 'ceptin’ ’tis his own language.”’ “The lion?” echoed Mr. Rosen blankly. “What lion? First you tell me blue barrel and then you tell me lion.” “IT means Chieftain—de larges’ black- mangy Nubbin lion in captivation,” stated Red Hoss grandly, quoting from memory his own recollection of an inse ription he but lately had read for the first time. “ Mist’ Rosen, twixt you an’ me, I reckins dey ain't no revenue officer in de whole state of Tennessee which is gwine go projeckin’ round a lion cage lookin’ fur evidence.” Disclosing the crux of his plot, his voice took on a jubilant tone. ‘Mist’ Rosen, please, suh, lissen to me whut Ise revealin’ EVENING POST 149

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150 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST GIRARD Never gets on your nerves a or a princely smoke~ Try this big satisfying ‘‘Educator”’ size Girard. Corona shape, full 5'/% inches long, packed fifty in a round cedar-lined metal can, the ideal home package — moisture-proof, protective, convenient —a wonderful after-dinner smoke. Like all Girards, this has the mild, ripe, tropic flavor which comes only of choice native-grown Havana leaf méllowed by age alone. And its smooth, satiny, shade-grown wrapper puts the perfect finishing touch to this luxurious cigar. Get a can of Girard Educators. You are en- titled to this man-size enjoyment at ease in your own home after the cares and efforts of the day. And there is also a special pride in offering such generous entertainment to an appreciative friend. Look for this attractive feature on your dealer’s case. Ask hjm for it today. Antonio Roig & Langsdorf Established 49 years Philadelphia | to you. Dat blue bar’! of yourn is gwine ride f'um yere plum’ to Memphis, Ten- nessee, in a cage wid a lion ez big ez ary | two lions got ary right to be! An’ now | den, Mist’ Rosen, le’s you an’ me talk ‘bout de money part of it; "cause when all is said an’ done, dat’s de principalest part, ain’t it?” The town of Wyattsville was, as the say- ing goes, all agog. Indeed, as the editor of the Wyattsville Tri-Weekly Statesman most aptly phrased it in the introductory sentence of a first-page, full-column article in his latest issue: ‘‘This week all roads run to Wyattsville.”’ The occasion for all this pleasurable ex- citement was the annual fa'r and races of the Forked Deer County Jockey Club, and superimposed upon that the street carnival conducted under the patronage and for the benefit of Wyattsville Herd Number 1002 of the Beneficent and Patriotic Order of American Bison. Each day would be a gala day replete with thrills and abounding in incident; in the forenoons grand free ex- hibitions upen the streets, also judgings and awards of prizes in various classes, such as farm products, livestock, poultry, needlework, pickles, preserves and art ob- jects; in the afternoons, on the half-mile track out at the fair grounds, trotting, pacing and running events; in the evenings the carnival spirit running high and free, with opportunities for innocent mirth, mer- riment and entertainment afforded upon every hand. This was Monday night, the opening night. The initial performance of the three on the nightly schedule of Powers Brothers’ Trained Wild Animal Arena approached now its climax, the hour approximately being eight-forty-five. The ballyhoo upon the elevated platform without had. been completed. Hard upon this an audience of townspeople and visitors which taxed the standing capacity of the tented enterprise had flowed in, after first complying with the necessary financial details at the ticket booth. The Educated Ostrich, the Bird That Thinks, had performed to the ap- parent satisfaction of all, though it might as well be confessed that if one might judge | by the intelligent creature’s expression, the | things it thought while going through its | paces scarcely would be printable. Violet, the lady leopard, had obliged by yowling in a spirited and spitty manner when stirred up with a broom handle. The two bears | had given a complete if somewhat lacka- daisical rendition of their act. And now the gentlemanly orator in charge, who, after his ballyhoos, doubled as master of | ceremonies and announcer of events, di- | rected the attention of the patrons to the largest cage of the four. As was customary, the culminating fea- ture of the program had been invested with several touches of skillful stage manage- ment, the purpose being to enhance the thrills provided and send the audience forth | pleased and enthusiastic. In high boots | and a tiger-skin tunic, Mr. Riley, armed with an iron bar held in one hand and a re- | volver loaded with blank cartridges in the | other, stood poised and prepared to leap into the den at the ostensible peril of his life and put his ferocious charge through a repertoire of startling feats. His eye was set, his face determined; his lower jaw moved slowly. This steel-hearted man was chewing tobacco to hide any concern he | might feel. | Red Hoss Shackleford, resplendent in his official trappings, made an elaborate cere- monial of undoing the pins and bolts which upheld the wooden panels across the front | elevation of the cage. The announcer took advantage of the pause thus artfully con- | trived to urge upon the spectators the ad- | visability of standing well back from the | guard ropes. Every precaution-had been taken, he informed them, every possible | safeguard provided, but for their own sakes it were well to be on the prudent side in case the dauntless trainer should lose con- frol over his dangerous pupil. This warn- ing had its usual effect. With a forward rush everyone instantly pressed as closely as possible into the zone of supposed menace. | Here a curious psychological fact ob- | trudes. In each gathering of this character | is at least one parent, generally a father, who habitually conveys his offsprings of | tender years to places where they will be | acutely uncomfortable, and by preference | more especially to spots where there is a | strong likelihood that they may meet with la sudden and violent end. Wyattsville October 9,1920 numbered at least one such citizen within her enrolled midst. He was here now, jammed up against the creaking rope, hold- ing fast with either clutch to a small and a sorely frightened child who wept. Hoss finished with the iron catches. Behind the shielding falsework he heard and felt the rustle and the heave of a great sinewy body threshing about in a confined space, He turned his head toward the announger, awaiting the ordained signal. you all ready?” clarioned that person. “Then go!” Witha clatter and crash down came the wooden frontage. It was a part of the mechanics intrusted to the docile and in- telligent Chieftain that so soon as the wood- work had dropped he, counterfeiting an unappeasable bloodthirstiness, should fiing himself headlong against the straining bars, uttering hair-raising roars. This also was the cue for Riley to wriggle nimbly through a door set in the end of the cage and slam the door behind him; then to outface the great beast and by threats, with bar and pistol both extended, to force him back- ward step by step, still snarling but seem- ingly daunted, round and round the cage. Finally, when through the demonstrated power of the human eye Chieftain had been sufficiently cowed, Riley would begin the stirring entertainment for which all this had been a spectacular overture. Such was the preliminary formula, but for once in his hitherto blameless life Chieftain failed to sustain his réle. He did not dash at his prison bars as though to rend them from their sockets; he did not growl in an amazingly deep bass, as per inculcated schooling; he did not bare the yellow fang nor yet unsheathe the cruel claw. With apparent difficulty, rising on his all fours from where he was crouched in the rear left-hand corner of his den, Chieftain advanced down stage with what might properly be called a rolling gait. Against the iron uprights he lurched, literally; then, as though grateful for their —— remained fixed there at-a slanted angle for a brief space. A faunal! naturalist, versed in the ways of lions, would promptly have taken cog- nizance of the fact that Chieftain, upon his face, wore an expression unnatural for lions to wear. It was an expression which might be classified as dreamily good- natured. His eyes drooped heavily, his lips were wreathed in a jovial feline smile. Transfixed as he was by a shock of aston- ishment and chagrin, Riley under his breath snapped a word of command. In subconscious obedience to his master’s voice, Chieftain slowly straightened him- self, came to an about face, and with his massive head canted far to one side and all adroop as though its weight had become to him suddenly burdensome, and his legs spraddled widely apart to hold him upright, he benignantly contemplated the sea. of expectant and eager faces that stretched before him. Slowly he lifted a broad fore- foot and with its padded under surface made a fumbling gesture which might have been interpreted as an attempt on his part to wipe his nose. The effort proved too much for him. Lacking one important prop, he lost his balance, toppled over and fell heavily u his side. The jar jolted his mouth Widely ajar, and from the depths of his great throat was emitted an immense but unmistakable hiccup—a hiccup deep, sincere and sus- tained, having a high muzzle velocity and humidly freighted with an aroma as of a hundred hot mince pies. From the spellbound crowd rose a con- certed gasp of surprise. Chieftain heeded it not. With the indubitable air of just recalling a pleasant but novel experience, and filled with a newborn desire to renew the sensation, he groggily regained his feet and reeled back to the corner from whence he had come. Here. with the other proper- ties of his act, a slickly painted blue barrel stood upended. Applying his nose to a spot at the base of it, he lapped greedily at a darkish aromatic liquid which, as the en- tranced watchers now were aware, oozed forth in astream upon the cage floor through a cranny treacherously opened between two sprung staves. And all the while he ton- gued up the escaping runlet of fluid he purred and rumbled joyously and his tawny sides heaved and little tremors of pure ecstasy ran lengthwise through him to ex- pire diminishingly in lesser wriggles at the tufted tip of his gently flapping tail. Then all at once understanding de- scended upon the audience, and from them (Concluded on Page 153) a

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(Concluded from Page 150) together rose a tremendous whoop. A joyous whoop it was, yet tinged with a feather edging of jealous regret on the part of certain adult whoopers there. They had paid their quarters, these worthy folk, to see a lion perform certain tricks and antics; and lo, they had been vouchsafed the in- finitely more unique spectacle of a lion with a jag on! It was a boon such as comes but once in many lifetimes, this opportunity to beheld majestic Leo, converted into a con- firmed inebriate by his first indulgence in strong and forbidden waters, returning to his tippling. To some perhaps in this land of ours the scene would have served to point a moral and provide a text—a lamentable picture of the evils of intemperance as exemplified in its effects upon a mere unreasoning dumb brute. But in this assemblage were few or none holding the higher view. Unthought- edly they yelled their appreciation, yelling all the louder when Chieftain, having copi- ously refreshed himself, upreared upon his hind legs, with both his forepaws winnow- ing the perfumed air,*and after executing several steps of a patently impromptu dance movement, tumbled with a happy, intoxi- cated gurgle flat upon his back and lapsed into a coma of total insensibility. But there was one among them who did not cheer. This one was a square-jawed person who, shoving and scrooging, cleft a passage through the applauding multi- tude, and slipped deftly under the ropes and laid a detaining grasp upon the peltry- clad shoulder of the astonished Riley. With his free hand he flipped back the lapel of his coat to display a badge of authority pinned on the breast of his waistcoat. ““What’s the main idea?” His tone was rough. “‘Who’s the chief booze smuggler of this outfit? How’d that barrel yonder cor 2 to be traveling across country with a soused lion? = “You can search me!” lied Riley glibly. “So help me, Mike, all I know is that that barrel was slipped over on me by a big nigger that joined out with us up here in Kentucky a week ago! I told him to get me a barrel, meaning to teach the lion a new trick, and he stuck that one in there. But I hadn’t never got round to using it yet, and I didn’t know it was loaded—I’l swear to that!” Cast in another environment, Mr. Riley might have made a good actor. Even here, in an embarrassing situation calling for lines spoken ad lib and without prior rehearsals, he had what the critics term sincerity. His fine dissembling deceived the revenue man. “Well, that be ing the case, where is this here nigger, then?’’ demanded the officer. Ril ey looked about chim. “TI don’t see him,” be said. ‘He was right alongside just a moment ago too. I guess he’s gone. This, in a sense, was the truth, and in still another sense an exaggeration. Red Hoss was not exactly gone, but he cer- tainly was going. A man on horseback might have overtaken him, but with the handicap of Red Hoss’ flying start against the pursuing forces no number of men afoot possibly could hope to do so. At the end of the second mile, and still going strong, the fugitive bethought him to part with his red coat. He already had run out from under his uniform eap, but a red coat with a double row of brass but- tons and brass-topped epaulettes on_ it flashing next morning across a bland au- tumnal landscape would be calculated to attract undesired attention. So without slackening speed he took it off and cast it behind him into the darkness. Figura- tively speaking, he breathed easier when he crossed the state line at or about five A.M. As a matter of fact, though, he was breath- ing harder. Some hours elapsed before he caught up with his panting. Traveling in his shirt sleeves, he reached home too late for the wedding." Still, con- sidering everything, he hardly would have cared to attend anyhow. Either he would have felt embarrassed to be present or else the couple would, or perhaps all three. On such occasions nothing i is more superfluous than an extra bridegroom. The wedding in question was the one uniting Melissa Grider and Homer Milsaps. It was generally un- expected—in fact, sudden. The marriage took place on a Wednesday at high noon in the office of Justice of the Peace Dycus. Red Hoss arrived the same afternoon, shortly after the departure of the happy pair for Cairo, Illinois, on a honeymoon tour. All along, Melissa had had her heart set cn going to St. Louis; but after the license had been paid for and the magistrate had been remunerated there re- mained but thirty-four dollars of the fund she had been safeguarding, dollar by dollar, as her other, or regular, fiancé earned it. So she and Homer compromised on Cairo, and by their forethought in taking advan- tage of a popular excursion rate they had, on their return, enough cash left over to buy a hanging lamp with which to start up housekeeping. Late that evening, while Red Hoss still wrestled mentally with the confusing prob- lem of being engaged to a girl who just had been married to another, a disquieting thought came abruptly to him, jolting him like a blow. Looking back on events, he was reminded that the sequence of painful misadventures which had befallen him re- cently dated, all and sundry, from that time when he was coming back down the Blandville Road after delivering Mr. Dick Bell’s new cow and acquired a fresh hind foot of a graveyard rabbit. He had been religiously toting that presumably infallible charm against disaster ever since—and yet just see what had happened to him! Surely here was a situation calling for interpretive treatment by one having the higher au- thority. In the person of the venerable Daddy Hannah—root, herb and conjure doc- tor—he found such a one, Before going into consultation the patri- arch forethoughtedly collected a fee of seventy-five cents from Red Hoss. At the outset he demanded two dollars, but ac- cepted the six bits, because that happened to be all the money the client had. This formality concluded, he required it of Red Hoss that he recount in their proper chrono- logical order those various strokes of ill fortune which lately had plagued him; after which Daddy Hannah asked to see the talisman which coincidentally had been in the victim’s ownership from beginning to culmination of the enumerated catastro- phes. He took it in his wrinkled hand and studied it, sides, top and bottom, the while Red Hoss detailed the exact circumstances attending the death of the bunny. Then slowly the ancient delivered his findings. “In de fust an’ fo’mos’ place,” stated Daddy Hannah, “dis yere warn’t no reg’lar graveyard rabbit to start off wid. See dis lil’ teeny black spot on de und’neath part? Well, dat’s a sho’ sign of a witch rabbit. A witch rabbit he hang rounda buryin’ ground, but he don’t go inside of one—naw, suh, not never nur nary. He ain’t dare to. He stay outside an’ frolic wid de ha’nts w’en dey comes fo’th, but da’s all. De onliest thing which dey is to do when you kills a witch rabbit is to cut off de haid f’um de body an’ bury de haid on de north side of a log, an’ den bury de body on de south side so’s dey can’t jine together ag’in an’ re- sume witchin’. So you havin’ failed to do so, ‘tain’t no wonder you been havin’ sech a powerful sorry time.”’ He started to re- turn the foot to its owner, but snatched ft back. “Hole on yere a minute, boy! Lemme tek’ nuther look at dat thing.’’ He took it, then burst forth with a volley of deri- sive chuckling. ‘“‘Huh, huh, well ef dat ain’t de beatenes’ part of it all!” wheezed Daddy Hannah. “Red Hoss, you sho’ muster been in one big hurry to git away f'um dat spot whar you kilt your rabbit and ketched your charm. Looky yere at dis yere shank j’int! Don’t you see nothin’ curious about de side of de leg whar de hock sticks out? Well den, cullid boy, ef you don’t, all I got to say is you mus’ be total blind ez well ez monst’ous ignunt. Dis ain’t no lef’ hind foot of no rabbit.” “Whut is it den?” “It’s de right hind foot, dat’s whut ’tis!”’ He tossed it away contemptuously. After a long minute Red Hoss, standing at Daddy Hannah's doorstep with his hands rammed deep in pockets which were both empty, spoke in tones of profound bitter- ness. He addressed his remarks to space, but Daddy Hannah couldn’t help over- hearing. “Fust off, I gits fooled by de right laig of de wrong rabbit. Den a man-eatin’ mule come a-browsin’ on me an’ gnaw a suit of close right offen my back. Den I runs into a elephint in a fog an’ busts one of Mist’ Lee Farrell's taxiscabs fur him an’ he busts my jaw fur me. Den I gits tuk advantage of by a fool lion dat can’t cham- | ber his licker lak a gen’leman, in conse- quence of which I loses me a fancy job an’ a chunk of money. Den Melissa, she up an’—well, suh, I merely wishes to say dat f’'um now on, so fur ez I is concerned, natchel history is a utter failure.” THE SATURDAY EVENING POST

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154 deliver toasts to all the mixed riffraff of ce- lebrity that came to his board, to the ac- tresses, the moving-picture producers, the ritics, the Broadway parasites, the promo- ters, the gamblers, the cuddling ladies from the borderland of society, the spurious or reduced English and Russian nobility, al- ways spread out through and over all some trange awe, some suggestion of vast, un ending sobriety and integrity and gentleness ind humility “Do you think I am making an impres- sion upon our New: York?” Brayley once asked, looking solemnly out of his clear blue eyes. “You know I'm willing to spend a good deal——not for show, but Just to know people and do whatever is necessary to be well dressed and have savoir-faire and give people a good time.” Rathbun threw his hands in the air “Let's put it this way, Dick, old man,” he said, “Let's say that Broadway seldom ees anyone like you.” “T enjoy the night life,” Brayley said, rubbing his great hands ‘IT sup pose you just want to be a man about town,” Rathbun bantered “Yes,”’ said our rare bird innocently, “I want to.” “Well, I'll say this,” said the real-estate operator, laughing: “You can drink as much as any man I ever saw.” “T don't like it much,” said Brayley “It doesn't affect me as I thought it was going to.” ‘The worst of it is that it never affects anyone else when you are round,”’ Rathbun added with feeling. After a moment of reflection he added sotne advice. He said, “You entertain very good-looking ladies, Brayley, but you don’t love any of them I think it would be a good thing for you to love somebody— not all —one “I certainly like the women I know,” said the young manufacturer. “I've found them pretty refined too.” “Well, you listen to me,” went on Rath- bun, tapping his cigar. ‘Even if you can’t love one, try it. You spend about a thou- sand dollars a week entertaining and going round to first nights and having tables en gaged at two supper dances and a midnight frolic and running a big limousine here and there and on tailors’ bills. Well, a lot of people do that I think the thing for yu to do is to get a lady. Get a lady with a reputation. Take her. Be seen with her Capture her-—or appear to. Climb up on her fame.” “You're not joking?” asked the other “ Joking?” said Rathbun. “No, I’m not joking. Have you ever been in love?” Brayley grinned “Well, there’s Vera Savarin.” “Vera Savarin!"’ we all exclaimed. “The Golden Lure!” ‘Sure! said Rathbun know he r pe rsonally ia “T've met her,”’ Brisco said that I wished I'd been a broker ‘Have you seen her act in Everlasting?" added King, the taiking-machine magnate “She's a siren of sirens.” ‘The sirenest!” admitted ‘Rathbun “There’s your bird of paradise, Brayley! Be seen everywhere with Vera Savarin breakfast, luncheon, the dansant, dinner, supper. I understand she is going back to the movies, and she isn’t playing at all now. It’s your chance She will have the time for you now. “But how to meet her?” asked Brayley. Rathbun swung his head round looking from table to table at Durin’s. He said, “Don Osgude, her manager, is usually here. There he is now!” The music whined and wailed and poised its notes at that moment, and then fell with crashes into a whirlpool of emotions and passions as if it were intelligent about the effect that Brayley would aave on the life of the Savarin girl. Rathbun had gone over to speak to the fat and sleek Osgude. He said to him after a moment, “ Well?” “Oh, I think he’d amuse her all right,” replied the manager. ‘But, Rathbun, you know about her, eh? , You're one of the half dozen th at know.’ ‘What? “Why, the secret.” “Oh—that?” “Well, it would cost a pretty penny if the truth got out,” Osgude said with feeling. “Our publicity man would go crazy! He'd faint in his tracks! We've spent thousands of dollars building against it.” “Do any of you “T shall say THE SATURDAY EVENING POST THE LURE (Continued from Page 13) Rathbun nodded. “I've fixed it,”” he said when he returned. “Belloc Graeme, the moving-picture feller, is having a little Christmas party at his house in Oyster Bay. Vera Savarin will be to analyze the features and personality that go to make up a rarity like Vera Savarin, anyone who ever met her face to face wondered how many men had killed them- selves when she was through with them. Vera Savarin, if Destiny Had Allowed Her to Go On, Would Have Become More Famous Than Any Other Vampire Woman Known to the Stage or Screen there—and me—and you, Brayley. I can get it done.” Vera Savarin, if destiny had allowed her to go on, would have become more famous than any other vampire woman known to the stage or screen. She would have broken the hearts of those who ever saw her in a close-up. She was on the way to making a fortune. Her name would have become synonymous with the soul-wrecking pro- fession. No one who had ever seen her ever forgot her. Nature had relieved her of effort. She was The Golden Lure by birth, contour and expression. Difficult as it is Her figure was of a strange perfection made up of strength, symmetry and grace- ful line, full but seemingly slender, and capable of appearing at times tall, sinewy and snakelike, and at’other.times luxurious, complacent and almost plump. No pair of eyes, whether they be green, blue or brown, ever could open quite so wide in innocence or narrow quite so viciously i terrible, sophisticated, hypnotic poten ng tion of a horrid, irresistible will power for evil. Round those eyes other features her nose, with its delicate nostrils, the high, white forehead, the flexible, delicate lips, October 9,1920 the slightiy incurving cheek —all were sub- servient attributes of perfection in a beauty that was not flat and insipid, but filled to the brim with the suggestion of all that a human being can express of heights—and depths. “It is indeed a great pleasure to meet you,” said Dick Brayley when he was in- troduced. Somehow those who saw them gained the impression that if either trembled or hesi tated or showed any signs of fear it was not “The Man who would be a Prince.” The woman who was known as The Golden Lure because her hair, dark red in certain lights, could burst into blond brilliance at times as if a magic was at work—well, she was the one who looked into Dick’s eyes with sudden doubt and gave him a hand suddenly cold from nervous tension. Per- haps she knew then by some strange in- tuition that he would uncover that secret of which her martager had spoken so solemnly. Later in the evening of that first day someone asked where Vera Savarin and Dick had gone. “They’ve taken a sled away from the gardener’s boy,” said Graeme. ‘“They’re coasting down the incline and across the tennis courts into the sunken garden. Re- mind me of a couple of kids. But let Vera do it. She can do it!” “Do you know her well?’’ asked Rath- bun. “Not very—no,” the host admitted. “But who does? She picks her.own vic- tims, I guess.” Rathbun nodded enigmatically. A week later, when he stood among the flowering azalea plants at the entrance of Durin’s putting his hat check into the pocket of his white waistcoat, the cloak- room girl, recognizing him as one of the veteran insiders of the white-light district, said to him, ‘‘ This will put a big eyestrain on the guests, Mr. R.”’ “What’s that, Nancy?” “Vera Savarin is in to-night, sir. It isn’t often the boobs get a chance to see her. You ought to heard ’em buzz when she came in with a millionaire.” She was sitting in the corner on one of the seats that ran along the wall, but turning to talk with ‘The Man whowould be a Prince” so that her back with its fine rippling muscles and its marble whiteness made everything else in that Babylonian café appear lacking in distinction. The gown she wore was like a reptile’s skin—the wet and glistening skin of a chameleon. ““Osgude, her manager, is some picker of costumers!” said Brisco. ‘She is certainly Stop, Look and Listen to-night. Look at that head of hair—that flash of red and gold above that tinkling green fabric! “That’s nothing,” replied Rathbun. “As we pass their table look at the emerald she wears! Brayley paid three thousand for it, and she is just wearing it to-night to please him. She has refused it as a gift positively refused it.” “Refused it! What are you talking about? How do you know?” asked Brisco. “How do I know a lot of the gossip of our little village?’’ Rathbun asked with a gesture of frank conceit. Of course it was evident that Brayley was ensnared. He fairly basked in the warmth of her smiles and the attention they attracted as they sat at dinners at the Ambervelt or Durin’s or Colversan’s and under the staring eyes that followed them at the dansants when the young manufac- turer, who had learned to dance as he had learned all the other smart accomplish- ments of the smart and so-called vicious world of manners and modernity, moved among the unknowns with The Golden Lure fixing her great eyes upon his. She was creating a superb semblance of ad- miration that would feast upon the sim; plicity of this strange personality that was carried about in Brayley’s big clean-limbed y, Love? Well, who could know about that? Dick Brayley did not disclose the state of his heart to anyone. Some woman of no consequence who had been a guest at many of his spendthrift parties said to him with catlike whining, “‘It must be quite wonderful to spend your time with the wickedest woman in America.” “Oh, she isn’t wicked,” said the simple soul. ‘I guess she isn’t wicked.” (Continued on Page 157)

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Forty Horse-Power or Thirty-Nine and Something? O get 40 h. p. from a motor of this rated capacity, it is essential to use a belt of the correct width, thick- / ness, and flexibility. For motor drives of 40 h. p. or more, GraKnight and Heart Brands of the Graton & Knight Standardized Series meet all requirements, the choice depending upon the pulley size of the individual drive. These belts run smoothly under heavy or light load, with a non-slipping, non-shifting grip that transmits the maximum power from pulley to pulley. GraKnight and Heart are two numbers of a complete Send for the book fications, ready for your use, THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Standardized Leather Belting.”’ covering every type and condition of motor drive THE GRATON & KNIGHT MFG. COMPANY, Worcester, Mass., Oak Leather Tanners, Makers of Leather Belting and Leather Products Branches and Distributors in All Principal Cities | Graton & Kni | Standardized Series | Leather Beltin hy Tanned by us for belting use HH fl a it ' s i} | hh " ul | t i] if) | 4 Hi NTIS a! te | | \ mT HiHe-44 8 Hitt Ly iA : on THUAN nt mT ih Sil oy aes eal : 1 1 | Hy i beget ‘ line of belting —standardized for every kind and condition of drive and made expressly for the work they have to do. They are made from oak-tanned center stock leather. Every process of manufacture from hide to finished belt is started and completed in our own plant, so that respon- sibility for the belts we make is absolute. That is one reason why we can recommend the various belts of our series. It is a good reason for you to write to us regarding anything that embraces the use of leather belting for power transmission. It contains tabulated speci- U. S. A. ght g

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the bed linen YHOSE warm,cuddly blankets, and warm and snug as feathers ID) you know that the heavy bed linen and blankets can be one of the easiest household duties if they are washed in a 1900 Cataract Electric Washer? washing of **But why,”’ you say, ‘fa 1900 Cataract, 1n preference to any other washing machine?’’ Be- cause of the magic figure 8 move- ment! By means of it the soapy cleansing water swirls through the clothes in a figure 8 motion, four times as often as in the or dinary washer. Swiftly,steadily, the water swishes back and forth, going through those clothes with every motion of the tub. Thus the clothes are washed rapidly and thorough ly. This figure 8 movement IQOO CATARACT WASHER ft as down, keep them fresh and spotless! And spreads and sheets keep it glistening white and fresh! THE SATURDAY EVENING POST is an exclusive 1900 feature. And that shiny copper tub —the inside is smooth as one’s hand. Nota part in it to catch the clothes or to cause wear and tear. No heavy parts to lift out and clean after the wash is finished! Then there’s the smooth- running silent wringer that also works electrically—it can be shifted from the washer clear over to the waiting clothes bas- ket without moving the washer or requiring one extra step. The 1900 Cataract Washer costs less than 2c an hour to op- erate, and it washes the clothes in 8 to 10 minutes, cleansing equally well the heavy clothes and the sheer fine undergar- ments or delicate blouses. 1900 WASHER CO., 203 Clinton St., Binghamton, N. Y. Canadian Factory and Office, Canadian 1900 Washer Co., 357 Yonge St., Toronto the figure I'm ’ é! October 9, 1920 gY The water sviria % through the clothes | ina fiyvre S motion four timesas often as in the ordinary washer. Write for the interesting book,“George Brinton’s Wife.” You'll enjoy it im- mensely—and you'll learn some very interesting facts told in story form.

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{ (Continued from Page 154) “She is very beautiful.” “Well, I like to hear her voice,’’ he an- swered. ‘‘She has a wonderful voice to listen to.” Rathbun, however, began to be worried. He said, “I wonder what I’vestarted? Not a tragedy, I hope.”’ We asked him what he meant—a play- wright, a teacher of English at Harvard, and one or two others who knew Vera Savarin. “*T’ll tell you,” he said. ‘It was all right while he was spending money to be seen with her, and was showing her in the audi- ences of first-night performances and riding Central Park in a silk-lined motor. But Thursday night I saw them riding on a bus down Fifth Avenue, and they had dinner together on corned-beef hash in a cafeteria. What’s that mean to me? Why, it’s a cinch that one or the other of them has ceased to care about being seen and is more interested in the other than in all the rest of the world. I’m asking myself whether it is he or she.” Osgude, her manager, showed alarm too. He said to Rathbun: “You better call off your Newfoundland dog.’ ‘Call off your own ic ic le,”’ replied the old real-estate operator. ‘‘You control her, don’ t you?” “No, I don’t, Rathbun,” whined the other. ‘You know how things are, darn it! I’ve got the biggest gold mine in America, but it’s full of dynamite, as you know. You know her weakness. If I ever could get on a personal basis with her, why, it would be all right maybe. But look how I’m fixed!" Rathbun just laughed with a note of satanic derision. Perhaps he knew that the inevitable, as it concerned the two, was slowly ripening like a luscious fruit filled with the juices of promise or filled with a deadly poison. Perhaps he foresaw that the end was near, hanging, ready to drop. In point of fact, it could not have been many days after this when Brayley told Vera Savarin. He had been allowed twice to take her home to her apartment, and even to sit up in the living room of that strangely simple little retreat of The Golden Lure, talking to her till long after midnight, with the goldfish in the globe swimming about under the lamp in eternal restlessness, like the restlessness of the spirit of mankind, and the lights of the city winking white and blinking yellow beyond the roofs and roofs and roofs stretching to endlessness dewntown. Each light was an eye of knowingness. Just what they found to talk about re- mains perhaps a mystery—certainly their pasts had little of common ground. Per- haps they did not talk at all. Perhaps Brayley, when he could drag his eyes away from her, looked about at the simple fur- nishings of that nest and wondered. Per- haps she looked with that vampire look into the simplicity of his eyes and won- dered too. They were there again after midnight, and Brayley stared out the window, down the river, where the ice cakes floated like scraps of torn messages under the winter moonlight. At last he said the first word of it he had ever breathed—he said, I love you.” “Oh!” said Miss Savarin as if someone had drawn a knife across her bare white arm. “‘I guess it kind of bores you to hear me say that. You must have heard it till you're sick of hearing it.” “Not like that, Dick,”’ she said, staring at him. “Nobody has ever said it—like that.” “‘Haven’t they?” “No, never! Always—different.” He scowled as if she had unvovered something. “T would offer you the kind of things you'd like if I could,’”’ he said. “I’ve been carrying on a kind of a battle inside myself about you. I guess you will think I am a little green, after all. You'd probably think so even if I had not told you all about myself —about Spurley and mother and all. But now you're sure to think so when I when I—well, what I was going to speak to you about was—marriage.” He blurted it out as if he were some kind of a culprit. “You mean you want me to marry you?” He nodded, adding, “‘Somehow marriage is about. all that would seem to satisfy me—that would seem kind of complete.” The Golden Lure rose and stood with her white and wonderful and notorious back turned toward him, and the fine muscles under the skin rippled as if with some emotion. “What's the matter?”’ he asked. “Nothing,” she said in a choking voice. “IT want to marry you, Dick.” He put his arms round her and felt her grow limp as a runner who at the end of some grilling Marathon race yields to fatigue and exhaustion. They remained like that a long time, with Dick’s lips pressed against that wealth of glistening hair that was known to ten million pairs of Ame ric an eyes. “I can’t believe it,” he said at last. “I thought maybe you wouldn't want me to get—well, sentimental, instead of being a man of the world.” Miss Savarin put her arms round his neck. The gesture had none of the finish that she could use in displaying her emo- tions upon the stage or before the camera. “When will you take me to Spurley?” she asked. “Spurley!”” he exclaimed. ‘“Spurley? Why, you poor dear girl, did you think marriage with me meant living in Spurley? \ He could not speak he was so astonished! She loved him enough to go to Spurley! ‘Bless your heart, you don’t have to go to Spurley,”’ he said. ‘‘ Why, I wouldn't go back to Spurley for twenty million dollars!” He stopped there, because the sound of the door knob indicated that Mrs. Taussig, the old property woman of the Seager Theater, who was now maid and guardian for The Golden Lure, was coming in. He looked up at the old woman, with her peering, curious face lined deeply with laughter and sorrow, the face that reminded one of a portrait of some old Dutch grand- mother by Frans Hals. She had been an actress once, and she carried the atmos- —¢ of ancient triumphs and glories and ost beauty, youth and power that the world had long ago forgotten. Then, with a suggestion of raising both palms in an ex- pression of horror mingled with resignation, she shuffled out as she had come. “Spurley,”” ‘The Man who would be a Prince” went on. ‘‘ Why, I never dreamed of it! New York’s the place for us. It’s the garden of glamour—the place where you grew.” “I grew everywhere,”’ said Vera. ‘‘ You know my family were with the red wagon that we were circus people.” “No, Vera,” he went on, disregarding all else and suddenly eloquent, his eyes glisten- ing with triumph and with expectancy. “Together we shall know the life I’ve al- ways wanted. We shall live in luxurious comfort—not for ourselves, but for others. Everybody who sees us will know who we are. I used to think I'd kind of like vice, but I didn’t, I guess. All I wanted was the savoir-faire and dressing well and having the celebrities come to my dinners. I can afford it too. I’m richer than you think Iam. I want to be known, Vera. I want to live at night. I want to be where there is light and life and gayety. I want to hear those orchestras talking and screaming and whispering about life, and we can do that. We can always be together, dining here and there and seeing all that goes on and know- ing all the big Bohemian people—the creators of modern art and literature—and dance together and—live! “Oh, I waited a long time for it!’’ he said. “I never told you that. I was ashamed to tell you everything. But I wanted life. And now—well, now—with you to be with me year after year—I’ve found it!” “*Spurley —— “Spurley? Spurley nothing!” he said. “Not for me! Not for you! Not fer us! What an idea! We’ll have an apartment with some magnificence, I tell you—in the center of things. We'll rub elbows with the best and the worst. We'll lead the big life right here in New York.” His face was flushed; he was almost out of breath. He had seen Vera put her hands with their rings over her face, but he did not know why. He only stopped when he heard her sob. Down he dropped on his knees beside her. “What's the matter, dear?” “Don’t ask me! Don’t ask me to tell you the truth!” she whispered. “No, no!” he replied. ‘‘That’s all right. I don’t ask you to. That’s nothing—what- ever it is.’ She put her hand in his hair and let her fingers, as acting on their own will, go rumpling round. “Tt’s gone now, dear,” she said at last, gazing down at him through tears. ‘See, ” she began. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST I’m smiling! I'm the happiest woman in the world!” That night he could sleep but little. He was planning their life together. He had reached out for the top of that world which years of imagination had created for | him, and his fingers had closed upon the topmost rung of his ladder! It never con- cerned Brayley that there were any disad- vantages in being the husband of one who was known as The Golden Lure. She was beautiful, she was charming, she was lovely, she was kind and she was the soul, the essence, the living symbol of the glamour. Brayley was triumphant. He was still triumphant, with wide and gleaming eyes of expectancy, when he went to her apartment the next evening. He had not seen her all day. She had gone with Osgude, her manager, to some conference |} make | to back up. with a theatrical producer who happened | to be in Philadelphia. She went to tell them that certain reasons had come up why she could make no contract for the rest of the season. Mrs. Taussig had let him in and asked him if he would like some coffee. He had rubbed his cold hands as he had taken off his gloves and pulled at his cold nose as he said, “God bless you, Mrs. Taussig, yes!” And now the old actress and property woman had come with the smoking cup into the living room, and as a grandmother who feeds a yardful of chickens had stopped with her hands on her hips to watch Brayley drink it. After he had put down the cup he looked up with that boyish smile of his, and seeing that she licked her thin dry old lips twice, he said, ‘‘ What is it? “You aren't going to keep her in New York?” she asked suddenly as if the warn- | ing spit of steam that precedes an explosion had found its vent. “Keep her in New York?” said he, puzzled. The old woman suddenly walked to him, and breaking down all the artifice of a wall between them took one of his great hands between her own wrinkled, crosshatched palms. “T’ll tell you if they kill me for it,’’ she said. ‘I'll tell you the truth.” He stared at her. ‘You are a good man,” she said. “ listen and you'll do what's right. know the big sec ‘ret about Vera as I call her now?’ “No.” “You must know it, “Go on.” “You know how she was born under canvas? Yes, sir! Her father was a spring- You'll Do you my Vera, " she said, | of ten days the box doesn't | seem amply worth sending erence, and tell us whether ‘ you prefer mild, medium or Shivers strong cigars. El Nelsor We make other brands of E a AC I | cigars which you can order AND | for trial first. SHAPE board-and-elephant jumper in the circus. | That’s how he was killed. The mother was a bareback rider. Yes, sir. And this child— well, she had nothing but night perform- | ances and moving on and on from the beginning. She never liked it. She hates music even now, because she hated the sound of the circus band. Before she was five she was always making clothes for dolls. She wanted to play house. She wanted to get away from crowds. ‘And when she was famous for two seasons as a child trapeze performer and her picture | was on the boards as Marvella, the Child | Butterfly, and people would see her on the | street and say, ‘That’sthechild— Marvella,’ she would hide her face with her arms like this—and burst into tears.” “Well?” said Brayley. “Well, she never changed, Mr. Brayley. No, sir. She was born with that in her. Of course she never could get away from that life. How could she? That was the cross she bore, sir. The old woman clung to his hand. “Yes, sir,”’ she went on, looking : into his face, “life is often like that. We all want the thing we haven't got, maybe. But think of a girl who wants a home and an evening lamp and slippers out for a husband and nice, quiet, respectable neigh- bors and the sound of the same church bells every Sunday morning and a house and position in some small place where she can get up in the morning and sing after breakfast is over and maybe weed the flower garden! “She says that?” he said in an awed and appre hensive voice. “Yes, sir. And think of her always doomed to being where there is nothing but lights and dancing and the theatrical world | and late suppers and all that dull and stupid business that goes on day after day like an old worn-out, creaking mill! Why, sir, it’s heartbreaking—so it is!”’ 15? We Will Send You a Box of Cigars We'll do this in an honest, mercenary effort to prove that we can save you a substan- tial amount on each cigar and yet make a reasonable profit ourselves. We make cigars. We cigars good enough We sell them direct to consumers at only one cost of handling and only one profit. If this saving each time you smoke is worth one sheet of paper, one enve- lope and one 2-cent stamp to you, we will send you a box. : Our El Nelsor is a 434- inch cigar whose filler is all long Havana and Porto Rico tobacco, perfectly blended, Its wrapper is genuine Sumatra leaf. Most of our customers consider this cigar the equal of any 15-cent cigar they can buy at retail. Some rate it much higher. We can sell them to you, direct, fresh, for 9 cents each by the box. They are good cigars, hand-made by skilled, adult makers in hygienic sur- roundings, Upon word from you, we will send you a box of 50, postage prepaid. You are to smoke ten. If at the end us $4.50 for, return the 40 unsmoked, You are under no further ob lige ition to us We make cigars, you see, that not only have to sell, but stay sold. In ordering, please use your letterhead or give ref- Send for our catalog HERBERT D. SHIVERS, Inc. 25 Bank Street, PHILADELPHIA, PA. Miss Lillian Blood California | Make Your | Spare Time Pay! | You can! Mis s Blood is one of hundreds of subscription represent- atives of The Saturday Evening Post, The Ladies’ Home Journal | and The Country Gentleman who, | by easy and pleasant spare-time | work, are adding from $5.00 to $50.00 a week to their incomes. If you, too, want extra money, write TODAY to The Curtis Pub- lishing Company, 832 Independ Square, Philadelphia, Pa., | for the terms of their liberal spare time offer. | ence

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THE SATURDAY 158 Al Motu preparer Sor Winter Wy nor le GET YOUR CALORIC Noy / The patented CaloriC Pipeless Furnace offers your family: June-like warmth in every room in coldest weather (70° guaranteed)—fuel bills cut Y; to Y2—unequalled convenience —clean rooms — safety— health-protection. The CaloriC is the answer of Science to the problem of high-priced fuel. It burns Ys to 2 less fuel because through its triple- casing construction (U. S..-patént No. 1,346,801) it delivers practically 100%. of the heat directly into your rooms, ¢hrough one register —and natural law circulates this heat into every corner of every room— without waste. IN OVER 100,000 HAPPY HOMES —the CaloriC has established its superior- ity and supremacy through years of service. Choose the CaloriC because it gives you advantages of basic patents which are essential to highest heating efti- crency, The free service of Monitor Engineers issures scientifically accurate installa- tion. Send us a rough sketch of your floor plans. The CaloriC heats old or new homes of 18 rooms or less. No plumbing or alterations. Costs less than stoves necessary to heat same space. Made | by largest manufacturers of warm-air furnaces in the world ag for Winter—get your CaloriC NOW, Write for CaloriC book or see nearest dealer, The Monitor Stove Company | ( The Monitor Family) : 101 Years in Business CINCINNATI, O ; 44 $$» or TR ea THE ORIGINAL PIPELESS FURNACE TRIPLE- CASING PATENT | fence—and trees hanging over EVENING POST | The old lady was patting his hand now | eagerly and for emphasis. | “And think of her—who is as good as | gold—being made out a vampire and a wrecker of homes, when evening after eve- ning she sits right here with me embroid- ering things for a home she may never have—the kind of a home she wants. Well, that’s the secret, Mr. Brayley. Mr. Osgude would kill me if I told you, because if it ever got out, where would we ail be for sneers and money, eh? See how she is | trapped—just because she can narrow her | beautiful eyes and look like Cleopatra and Boadicea and Lucrezia Borgia! And when all she wants—and all she has ever wanted is someone to come and take her away where all’s quiet and homelike, and she can go to bed at ten and maybe have a few hens in the back yard.” “Why, this can’t be so!” “The Man who would be a Prince” said doubtingly. “But it is, sir! Otherwise may I be struck down in my own blood. What do you suppose that canary and these goldfish mean? If it isn’t so, why are those cabinet drawers over there filled with her embroid- eries and plans she has drawn for houses where she would like to live and skete hes of homes under big arched trees?” “You mean she draws pictures?” asked. mo “Let me see one. Mrs. Taussig rose rheumatically and pro- duced a sheet of drawing paper from the desk. He looked at it long and hard, sev- eral times passing his hand over his fore- head as if to brush away some confusion of ideas that pressed forward from within his head. “T’ll be dog-goned! sketch out from him. this?” “Just last November, sir.” “Huh! A big square house he ” he said, holding the “When did she draw a picket nastur- tiums, maybe. Well, I'll be dog-goned!”’ He looked up suddenly at Mrs. Taussig. He asked, ‘Then she isn’t?’ “No, sir, she isn’t. She isn’t any vam- pire, I suppose you mean. No, sir, she’s just a soul all draped over with lies. God put a kind of lie into her body and her face—and Osgude and the others did the rest, sir.”” Brayley was silent. “Well,” said he finaily, “‘you said that some of us want just the thing we haven't got. I suppose maybe that’s the real lure of life—the real lure.” . “Yes, sir, it is!’’ said the old woman. “Tt is, until we get settled, sir. That’s why she cried so last night after you'd gone. Not that she didn’t love you. Only, when it was you—and she thought you were different and meant different when y6u spoke of love— why, at first she thought | you meant to give her all she’d ever wanted | and take her back to Ohio, and all of that. | And when you spoke as you did, sir - She threw her old arms apart in a gesture of tragedy. “But look here!” exclaimed Brayley. “She never said a word to me!” “And why?” said Mrs. Taussig. ‘Why? Because she loves you, sir. Because you told her your happiness was lying here, right in the very midst of all she wants to leave! Because she put your happiness first, Mr. Brayley— heaven’ bless her for that!” He may have turned a little white as he jumped up and stood with clenched hands. ‘Just let me alone to think,” he said. Mrs. Taussig took her hands off her hips, and taking the little Japanese tray with the empty cup and the cream she tiptoed out. f [ ay | ~ —~ October 9,1920 He went to the window and stood with his forehead pressed against the icy pane, gazing out, down the river at the many- eyed city that he had thought he could love so well. There was the life he thought he could love and that he thought would be his only love! There was the life that he had hoped would learn to love him! There it was, with all its glamour and all its mystery! “But, after all, life is life,” he said aloud. He had his struggle. Perhaps with him and all he could give her he could satisfy her here after all. But he thought of all her dreams. They had been like his—secret, long, unsatisfied, unfulfilled. “No, by heaven!” he said at last. “There can’t be two ways in this!” He went to the telephone. “Gimme long distance.” After a few moments he said, “‘I want to get Spurley, Ohio.” ong she came in she was rosy with the cold, “T thought you’d be here,’ added, ‘“‘ Yes—-waiting for me.’ a was. ” ee aside her wraps and furs, she kissed s Maybe I ought to tell you I’ve kind of changed my mind,” he said. “‘I guess that we don’t want to live in New York, do we? How’d you like a small town out West. And say a big, square, white house under some maples, eh? Perhaps we’d really well, kind of enjoy each other more in the long run in quiet, where we could have a regular home and so on. I guess maybe you were right about it. Anyhow — — She gasped. “Well, we swered. “You don’t mean it, Dick!” “SureI do! Look here! I’ve got a photo- graph of the place I left. I took it to re- member it by. That’s our old home in Spurley. I guess I’ve done Spurley an injustice. It’s in a lovely country.” She looked and looked and looked at the picture. “Oh, Dick!” she exclaimed. “I suppose I ought to tell you I’d sold "she said; and can try it and see,” he an- the place. Yes, to the undertaker—to Daniels, the undertaker. But that’s all right. “Don’t you get scared. No. I es tele phoned out to Spurley and bought it back I thought maybe you’d like to live in a place like Spurley, where ——’”’ Vhat? “Where you could be the first lady of the town and have a little garden out back and is Her chin was on his shoulder, her cheek the cheek of the famous Vera Savarin—was next to his. “And then what?” she asked like a child hearing a fairy story and looking at the soiled picture. “Maple trees!”’ he said. ‘“‘And two of them are sugar HB. 4. You see, there’s a picket fence, painted white. There'd be a good place to ‘plant a row of nasturtiums!” He pointed. “And then what?” she asked. “There’s a place for a swing between those two trees. It would be a good place for a child to play.” “One?” she asked. “Yes.” “‘A thousand!” she exclaimed. After a moment she said, “‘So I’m going to have it after all?” as if she could not believe it. “Sure!” said he with a sudden note of understanding and pure joy. “The whole darn lure!”

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 159 Sunshine Biscuits Everymeal ~ Everyday bor Well-Planned Meals T makes one hungry just to Let the kiddies have all the look at Sunshine Biscuits. Look Sunshine Biscuits that they want. at Sunshine Hydrox—the rich Serve them to the unexpected vanillacream icing filled generously guest, or plan to have them for between the chocolate wafers your special social events. For really makes them irresistible. Sunshine Biscuits lend their valu And they taste even better than able assistance to all occasions they look. Try them today for formal and informal. In indi- your luncheon or dinner. vidual packages and in bulk. Fairy Tale Pictures and Cunning Verses are packed in most Sunshine cartons [ooseE-WILEs Biscuir (om PANY Bakers of Sunshine Biscuits Branches in over 100 Cities My ‘ It s Paty i) ty A 6 ern NAAT) ij wh will i) " ed / / } m / RB RIS ( ‘ Vv Ee a a pa eee 'y j ' " i y y t ' ‘ 1 1 ! I " iT \ ' ' ' Sunshine Orbits Sunshine Bobby Burns, i with Fruit Punch Bananas and Cream Make one quart of lemonade. To this add Can you think of another combination that 14 glass of cherry syrup. Pour into glasses can be so readily served at any meal, any \ and add candied cherries, cubes of pine day? Serve Sunshine Bobby Burns with i apple and top with thin slices of arange. Bananas and Cream for breakfast, for Serve with Sunshine Orbits. dessert at luncheon or dinner.

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST October 9,1920

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THE SATURDAY DOINGS IN THE DOLDRUMS (Continued from Page 15) by a considerable and widely distributed in- quiry, is that it would make no difference to the general result if both the candidates remained parked on their porches, both went out stampeding round, or both went fishing. However, there must be campaigns to justify the existence of the campaigners, and national committees and state com- mittees and all down the line. How could the speakers speak if there were no speak- ers’ bureaus? What sort of a quarters would a Western or an Eastern headquar- ters be without a head, and what would become of the great engines of publicity and propaganda? How would a candidate know he really was a candidate, all nom- inated and everything, unless a herd of solemn notifiers notified him four or five weeks after the event, and gave him an opportunity to tell the world that the hands of his opponents are daubed with perfidy and that they are no better other- wise than they should be in several par- ticulars? These things must be done, else the whole political fabric is rent asunder—the house falls—the stuff is off. Thus we attach mo- mentous importance to the mechanics of it all and pay slight heed to the manifesta- tions. Think of the vast concern and com- fort it is to the American people to feel sure that Will Hays is right there on the job directing the campaign for Harding; and of the enormous consequence to us all it is to know that Homer Cummings isn’t Dem- ocratic chairman now and George White is! Of course, there emerged one day a per- sonal advisory committee selected by the Republican candidate, and consisting of John W. Weeks, of Massachusetts; Charles D. Hilles, of New York; A. Tobias Hert, of Kentucky; Raymond Robins, of Illinois, and Harry Daugherty, of Ohio, to advise the management or manage the advise- ment, whichever it may be; and James M. Cox is his own executive committee, ad- visory committee and manager, but Will Hays is the Republican chairman and George White is the Democratic chairman. We cannot escape that. Neither can the candidates. Nothing Like Coordination This then leads us to the important sub- jects of coérdination and conference, with- out which no campaign can be conducted or any conductor campaigned. This is a solemn hour, as Bill Borah said after he threatened to bolt for the twenty-seventh time and Henry Cabot Lodge, in a cold but cultured manner, told him to be on his way. Conference and coérdination are solemn subjects, befitting to the solemnity of the hour. Also they are the end, aim, object, occupation and excuse for national. and other Presidential campaign committees. To codrdinate properly there must be fre- quent conference, and to confer correctly there must be complete coérdination. The work of coérdination begins each morning at nine o’clock and is done at conferences that last until supper time. No person at a national headquarters talks, speaks, con- verses or holds any oral, vocal or audible discourse with any other person. They all confer, and while conferring they coérdinate. It is inspiring to see Will Hays come into headquarters, active, eager, enthusiastic, and to note him plunge into a series of con- ferences one right after the other—and con- ferences with Harry New and the janitor and everybody; and it makes one feel that the Cox campaign is in safe hands to watch George White hasten to confer with Pat Harrison, and Wilbur Marsh coérdinating with Norman E, Mack. “And what is doing,” I asked one of the chiefest of the chief men at the Republican he: adquarte rs, “‘in this busy hive of political industry?’ “The work of codrdinating is going on,” he told me, and his words were full of grave import. “Coérdinating what?” I inquired. “Why, codrdinating the national com- mittee and the executive committee and the advisory committee and the senatorial campaign committee and the congressional campaign committee and the various bu- reaus.”’ ‘But we outsiders had thought that this organization was a going concern, ready to take hold the minute the candidate was nominated, and here it is almost the first of September and you are not codrdinated yet.’ “You do not understand,” “‘Coérdination is necessary —imperative, indeed. Without coérdination we cannot win; with it ——”’ .”’ I broke in. “You can confer “Exactly,” he said. ‘‘Conference and codrdination—those are the essentials for victory.” That being the case, I am prepared to state that this present Republican National Committee is heavily surcharged with both—saturated, indeed. And over at the abiding place of the Democratic conferees and coérdinators, though the work at the time of writing is not so far advanced, it may be said to be well under way. They are pretty nifty coérdinators on the Demo- cratic side also—pretty nifty. It is just possible they do not get out so many blanks or have so many forms to fill in as the Republicans, but give them time—give them time. It is most instructive and interesting. The chairman confers with the vice chair- man and the vice chairman confers with the executive chairman and the advisory committee, which was chosen by the candi- date and is composed exclusively of chair- men, confers all over the place. The treasurer confers with all the chairmen— and condoles with them too. The head of each bureau confers with his assist- ant. The assistant confers with his hired help. The hired help confer with the messen- gers. The messengers confer with the door- keepers. The doorkeepers confer with the office boys. The office boys confer with the elevator conductors, and down at Marion, Ohio, in the pale moonlight that silvers the historic porch, the candidate confers with his cigar, or out on a train, speeding from one talking place to another, the other candidate confers with himself, while co- ordination goes on apace. Coérdination, in its high political sense, is comparatively new in our campaigns. Mark Hanna knew little about it, and it is he replied. doubtful if Frank Hitchcock or Joe Dixon | or Norman Mack or Tom Taggart used it extensively. There was considerable of it in the 1916 campaign, when Brethren Willcox and McCormick utilized it impres- sively, and it has burst forth this year in full flower and form. After a careful study I am able to define it thus: Codérdination is either getting everybody to do nothing or nobody to do everything. Also it is a scientific manner of giving a man of au- thority no responsibility, or a man of re- sponsibility no authority. When specific coérdination is observed it means that somebody is getting the hook, and when there is most coérdination it means that everybody is passing the buck. The General-Staff Idea Generally speaking, there are more Re- publican conferences and more Republican coérdination than Democratic, not because the Republicans have more to confer about or more to coérdinate, but because the Republicans have been officered and di- rected by a general staff, while the Demo- crats have been led by a general. There hasn't been much in the line of Democratic conference in the last eight years, and what coérdination has been done has been co- ordination with, not coérdination of, if you get what is meant; and all those who did | not codrdinate with were soon without. Nor does it seem likely that the Democratic Party is in much better case this year, for there are signs that the Democratic man- agers, however earnestly they seek to do | their own coérdinating, will find it done for them. The general-staff idea makes no hit with James eM. Cox. He will have a staff, but it will not be general—same as with an illustrious party colleague of his for the past eight years. “The leadership of the party has passed to you,” said the President to Cox, when Cox made his visit to the White House. It is a good thing it passed quietly and in an orderly manner. J. Cox would have taken it, anyhow, being that sort of a man | and going after what he needs in his busi- ness rather than waiting for what he wants to seek him out. As will be observed, Mr. Cox will be his own manager. He will run ¥ | his campaign. His conception of leader- ship is to lead. That is what he will do. This will give his associates ample time for EVENING POST 161 Ford Owners of America: When Your Springs Break put on The Replacement Spring No. 2000 Regular VULCAN Ford Front $3.50 (East of Rocky Mts.) No. 2001 Regular VULCAN Ford Rear 310° (East of Rocky Mts.) No. 2004 Special VULCAN Ford Front for Delivery Cars, Trucks, Taxis, etc. 36:25 (East of Rocky Mts.) No. 2005 Special VULCAN Ford Rear for Delivery Cars, Trucks, Taxis, et« $ 16°° Rocky Mes Ask your dealer for a VULCAN spring for your Ford car—our VULCAN name plate on every one. These springs are the expression of our highest ideals of careful workmanship. Quantity production and organized distribution enable us to put them in your hands at prices that are A attractive. Ask for VULCAN : and demand that our name da plate be shown you. Jenkins Vulcan Spring Co. Richmond, Indiana.

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Mail the Coupon for Booklet and Price List Dayton Airless Tires save time and money. They give you uninterrupted service. They make driving a pleasure. They in- sure delivery without delay. Mail the coupon now for the booklet that shows EVENING POST conference and coédrdination. They may be getting all coérdinated up. by Novem- ber. Meantime Cox will attend to details. Many of the men who were most active for Cox at San Francisco and who did most to bring about his nomination cannot justly be classed as Wilson Democrats. They are Democrats without the definitive designation. But there are large numbers of Democrats who are Wilson Democrats, including Mr. Wilson himself. Underneath there is quite a sharp division on the mat- ter of the label. Some like it and some do not. Those who do not were not in favor of any very marked tabbing of himself by Cox as of the Wilsonian variety of Demo- crat, and there was considerable discussion, but not with Cox, as to the proper course for the candidate. Should he go to Wash- ington or not? The astute and loyal politicians who are of the personal staff of the President never contemplated for a moment that such a slight should be put on the President as | would be indicated by a Democratic candi- | date remaining away from the White House; nor did the astute candidate con- template any such slight. He is as good a politician as any in Washington—better than most. On the matter of the peace | treaty he had set forth two reservations himself, which in effect would undot several i’s and uncross several t’s, but he was sure there was a common ground. There was. He went to Washington, and it was an- nounced that he and the President were in full accord. Cox is a courteous gentleman, not a boor or a blinded partisan. As nominee of his party for President, it was due to the man who has been leader of that party for eight years, and who is now President, to cali on | him, especially as he is ill. Therefore no matter what the blinded partisans said, he made the call. Also, Cox is a practical poli- tician. He knows that it requires money to run a campaign, and that since 1912 the men who have been supplying the neces- sary money to the Democratic campaign are all friends of Wilson. For practical reasons, and in addition to the courtesy due to the President, Cox could not, as a politician, offend and close that source of supply—and he didn’t. Mr. Cox and His Chairman It was all neatly and expertly done. Mr. Wilson expressed sufficient interest in Cox | and Mr. Cox expressed sufficient interest | in Wilson. They had the common ground details of construction and the price of | Dayton Airless equipment for your car. The Dayton Airless Tire Co. cyton, Ohio ALEIAETE Dayton, Ohio The Dayten Airless Tire Co. Dept. 247, Dayton, Ohio Please send me, without obligation, booklet, prices and more information on Dayton Airless Tires, as follows: Passenger Cars Light Delivery Cars Dealer's Proposition Name Address City County State of the Democratic platform to stand on, and it takes no equilibrist to maintain him- self on that broad and comprehensive docu- ment. Then some of the Wilson men tried to press it a bit, but found difficulties in their way. Homer Cummings, chairman of the Democratic National Committee, is a Wilson man, and was one of the foremost representatives of the President at San Francisco. His speech as temporary chair- man of the convention was read and ap- proved by the President before Cummings delivered it, and he was Wilsonian always at the convention. Some of his friends and some of Mr. Wilson’s friends thought that Cox should continue Cummings as chair- man of the committee, to run the Cox cam- paign. Thus the question of tying Cox in closer with Wilson came up again. There was much pother about this. Though it is doubtful if the President both- ered his head about it, the politicians both- ered their heads considerably, and certain of them said this would be too much—this further evidence of Cox's being chained to the Wilson chariot, this further subordina- tion that naming a man for chairman who was so closely identified with the President would indicate. It was pointed out that Cox had ren- dered all necessary homage to the Presi- dent, and there has been no statement that the White House is not of this opinion also; albeit up to the time of writing nothing has come from the White House about the Cox speech of acceptance in which he set forth his conception of the issues of the cam- paign. However, that may come, or it may not. In any event, Cummings was not made chairman, and the anti-Wilson men had their way. Thus, it will .be observed, do politics enter into our presidential cam- paigns—enter and emerge; and thus again, it will be noted that James M. Cox po- litically has passed the period of youth and is a good handy journeyman worker. Senator Harding had no such concern over his chairman. He obtained a chair- man by eleven P. M. on the day he was October 9, 1920 nominated, and he wasn’t nominated until along about six Pp. M. It was felt in some quarters that the senator had many press- ing matters to occupy him, and that he really should not be bothered—much— over his chairmanship. : However, as the campaign progressed it was noted that former Senator John W. Weeks, of Massachusetts, a large, calm and deliberate man, was frequently in consulta- tion with the candidate, and that Charles Dewey Hilles, not so large, but calm and deliberate also, and with the experience of a chairmanship or two as an asset, was called in—and some others. And the work of coérdination progresses. It is an absurd but prevailing obsession of the men who nominate candidates for President that they make the issues for a campaign also. This obsession was never more marked than in the preliminaries of the present campaign. Supporters of the President, deeply concerned over the failure of the Senate to ratify his peace treaty and his League of Nations, held the ratification and indorsement of the presidential idea to be paramount. Similarly the men, espe- cially the Republicans in the Senate, who opposed the presidential idea and refused ratification except with their own amend- ments, reservations and interpretations, held their views to be the paramount issue before the people—the indorsement of their action. Both of these views were and are intensive, and due to the Washington environment. Blindness to National Opinion The most marked effect of official life in Washington is the conviction that comes to all the men who are stationed there in high official positions that as Washington thinks so must the country think. They lose their perspective. They get out of touch with the people. They are cooped up, one with another, and presently and invariably they come to think that all that is important, governmentally and politically, in this country is what they deem important and what they put forward as important. The fight over the League of Nations and the treaty went on for months, to the exclu- sion of almost every other topic of legisla- tive or executive interest. They thought of nothing else, talked of nothing else, worked at nothing else, and they felt that the people must be as interested and as con- cerned as they were. The President felt the same way. As Washington thinks, so must the nation think—and act. Now the people were interested for a time, as much as a people can be in an academic question of this sort, in the League of Nations, Article Ten, reserva- tions, interpretations and all the rest of it, but only for a time. Presently they came to be bored stiff with the whole business. They are bored stiff with it now. They were bored stiff when the Republicans made their platform and more bored than that when the Democrats made their platform. They did not understand it, did not want to understand it and do not give a hoot about it—as a whole, I mean. Of course there are plenty of individuals who are lined up one way or another, but the people in the voting mass passed the whole matter up long ago and turned to other things. The senatorial politicians on both sides could not see this. They were so saturated with the question in all its aspects that it was inconceivable to them that the people should not be intensely interested in, on tiptoe about the league and the treaty, and that this would be the great issue. How- ever, they ran very true to platform form when they made that platform pronounce- ment about it. The Republicans formu- lated a statement of this issue elastic enough to let everybody in, and the Demo- crats made their platform with the idea of keeping nobody out. It was the same with the wet-and-dry issue. The men from the big cities came to the conventions insisting that the wet-and- dry issue was the great issue in the minds of the people. This was particularly so at the Democratic convention. It was held by many of the best politicians there that the Democrats must make a decided stand on the question. This was another case of intensive view. It was the view of the men from the big cities. It prevailed to some extent at Chicago also, but not to the San Francisco degree. To the great amazement, it was discov- ered that the people, as represented by a majority of the delegates, did not think the (Concluded on Page 165)

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(Concluded from Page 162) wet-and-dry issue a predominant issue. They looked on prohibition as water over the dam and, as a matter of fact, were in favor of it largely. This dry sentiment, as represented in both conventions, precluded any direct Action on the wet side of it; but the wets at San Francisco thought they won a partial victory by the nomination of Cox, who is held to be liberal in his liquor views. The pronouncements of both candidates on the wet-and-dry issue are made, and they are sufficiently moral and sufficiently vague to hold party wets and not discour- age party drys. We find both candidates standing for law enforcement, but both hedging a little along the lines of lighter beverages—not much, but with a slight slant. The determination of some of the big city politicians to rally their wet boys on the that, no matter what the Democratic platform does say or does not say, the candidate is the platform on the question, made it necessary apparently for Chairman White, of the Democratic com- mittee, to issue this statement: basis “The Democratic Party is not going to base its campaign on a beer-and-light-wines policy. It will stand squarely on the na- tional platform and for law enforcement. The wets can interpret this platform any way they choose.” Certainly! So can everybody else, but it is to be noted that the candidate did not make this announcement. The chairman made it. Still, that isn’t the point. The wet-and-dry outcome proves again what was proved by the league issue. The poli- ticians thought wet and dry the most im- portant matter. The senators thought the league the most important issue. So did the President. They thought their view was the popular, the national view. There are evidences, especially in the cities, that there will be a pressing of the wet-and-dry matter by the Democrats, and that a sort of thirst-to-thirst campaign will be made in states like New York, New Jersey, Massachusetts, Illinois and Cali- fornia, where it is thought the wet senti- ment can be capitalized politically. A campaign of this sort must necessarily be a sort of sub rosa campaign. It may hap- pen that in this way the Republicans will be more or less forced to a dry stand in cer- tain states, and the Democrats take the wet end of it. This will not bea national demonstration, but work by states, behind a smoke screen of the league, industrial unrest, and so on. The Senatorial Situation What has happened only goes to prove again that though politicians can propose issues the people make issues. This has already dawned on the campaign managers, for we find on both sides a reaching round for other issues, for new stuff. The fact of this situation, as evident late in August, is that the league issue is not the important popular issue. We observe each candidate trying out other things. Candidate Hard- ing has made a tentative cast of the tariff into the situation, and Candidate Cox is reaching about for more vital talking points. The Republicans are beginning to sub- ordinate the league to Democratic extrava- gance, and the Democrats are proposing tax reform Meantime there come solemn warnings from the campaigners of the Senate and the House urging the people not to overlook the importance of the Senate and House elections. “What boots it,” the Republicans say, “if we elect a President and do not support him with a Republican Senate and a Re- publican House?” Then they show that it will not boot a single solitary boot, because if Harding is elected and the Senate is Democratic, Harding will be in the same case President Wilson has been in for the past two years inoperative to a large degree. Looking at it from this angle, the Repub- licans seem to be in a parlous position. As the Senate stands now, the two parties split practically even, for of the two Republican majority that normally exists Senator New- berry is not active, owing to the investiga- tion of his election and his conviction under the Corrupt Practices Act, and Senator La Follette, whose vote is imperative to hold the Senate for the Republicans, is not now counted as other than an individualist, as likely to vote against the Republicans as with them. Gronna, of North Dakota, was defeated by a Non-Partisan League man, and this vote must be held to be similar to the La Follette vote so far as upholding Republicanism is concerned. In addition to this, the seats of Brande- gee, of Connecticut; the Ohio successor to | Harding; Lenroot, of Wisconsin; Moses, of New Hampshire; Smoot, of Utah; Spencer, of Missouri; and Wadsworth, of New York, are none too sure, owing to various political causes and effects. However, the Demo- crats are uneasy about Chamberlain, of Oregon; Beckham, of Kentucky; Nugent, of Idaho; Phelan, of California; Smith, of Maryland, and the candidate in Colorado to succeed Thomas. The Senate is considerably more im- portant to the senators than the presidency. Senators will have a large say in this cam- paign on the Republican side. Harding is a senator and was nominated by his colleagues. He announced after his nomination that he considers the presidency a most important office, and if elected will invite the Vice President to sit in the Cabinet meetings, thus tying the Senate in very closely to his administra- tion, as the Vice President is practically a senatorial appendage to our Govern- ment and is the presiding officer of that body, with the deciding vote in case of a tie. Contrawise to this, Candidate Cox is reported to have said to Franklin D. Roose- velt, the Democratic candidate for Vice President: ‘‘ Frank, you are a fine man, and I like you; but don’t get the idea into your head that if we are elected you will sit in the Cabinet, for you will not.” The One Basic Issue Hays is heid in high esteem by the sen- ators who nominated Harding, and was THE SATURDAY ‘ | vice | considered by them and some others as a | possible candidate for President this year. Hays is young, energetic and has ideas. In all probability his share of the conduct of the campaign will be senatorial in its as- pects, and so far as outward appearances go, the Republican senators will be re- sponsible for the campaign, but there may be interior demonstrations of a different character. Admitting that the senators who will be | so powerful in the Republican campaign will endeavor to keep the league as the yaramount issue, and admitting that the friends of the President will make the same endeavor in the Democratic campaign, and that both candidates will go as far as may be necessary along those lines, the fact re- mains that neither the league nor any other issue, save one, will be the paramount issue. American people, made relative and inci- dental to the one main issue, and that issue is the issue of Wilson and Wilsonism. The people will be lined up at the ballot All issues have been bunched by the | box either in indorsement of the President | and his policies—all of them, not alone the league—or against his policies. That was determined long ago. This campaign, at the time of writing, is over so far as the result is concerned. It may be contended that if the people support Wilson and Wilsonism they will support the league. Certainly, but the league isn’t the only thing they will sup- port. It is an incidental thing. The issue is Wilson and all his works and all his workers. Similarly, if the people do not support Wilson, that will not much a league repudiation as it will mean a Wilson repudiation in toto. Wilson may stand for the league, but the people will not allow the league to stand for Wilson. They are either for or against many other policies and performances. Cox and Hard- ing are the instruments for the expression of that support or repudiation. Just that. The game will continue for some weeks yet, but the score was determined some time ago. You may put pin wheels on the Washington Monument, and they will make a great splutter and spark and show, but they won’t affect the stability or the solidity or the immutability of the monument. Not at all. It would take an earthquake to topple that structure. It’s the same with the popular deter- mination in this campaign. Pin wheels will be pinned on it unceasingly from now to election day, but .unless there is an earthquake that determination will con- tinue as at present. The people make the issues, and they have made this one. It is comprehensive, all-embracing. decisively handled. Verbum ringing saps! and three It will be | mean so | EVENING POST oe Do you know a good TWO- § handed game? ( rilbage Ploy rs / Is O-A EARN Cribbage. Auction Bridge for four cial Rules of Card Games.” play this game and any other Contains ad cents postpaid, With this book and a pac k of | 1) whok BICYCLE | PLAYING CARDS | card run? It is as interesting for two people as Send for the book, ‘The Offi- It will teach you how to 300 games. 20 you are equipped for clean, Ome, pirited amusement all the time. Bicycles are preferred by card players every where because of their large indexes, their smooth finish, and their long-wearing qualitie Phev eliminate e train, make shuffling easy, and dealing accurate. 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EVENING POST October 9, 1920 THE RUNT (Continued from Page 34) “IT don’t know that I ever broke my neck trying to make him like me. He’s a pom- pous Irishman—he likes to boss people. I haven’t much use for him.” “He’s capable, Mr. Blackbarn.” “Oh, I don’t doubt that! But I just don’t get along with people of his type. I guess I'll land something much better when I get ready. For the present I don’t pro- pose to worry.” Miss Gilfred looked puzzled. It was be- yond her comprehension that anyone could be content under the conditions outlined by the Runt. “But what will you do with your time? You'll be terribly bored.” “No, I think not. I’ve a plan. Do you care for the fish? I think they always serve cod here, but call it a new name each night. If you don’ t care for it—oh, of course, if you think it’s nice Well, as I was saying, I have a plan. | I’m going to — The Runt hesitated. He hadn’t intended to spring the thing until the entrée, and here they were, only as far along as the fish. “It’s delicious, I think,” said Browny. “Going to what?”’ “Get married.” “Oh, my goodness! Who ever heard aren't you rather reckless for a young man without a job?” “Why, no; I don’t see that Iam. I’m getting forty dollars a week, and we could surely do nicely on that. And think of all the time we’d have together! I think it would be immense.” “Who is the other party to this delightful arrangement?” It has been said that Miss Gilfred had a rather serious mouth. At the first an- | nouncement of the Runt’s intention this mouth had smiled with an amusement that also twinkled in Browny’s eyes. Now abruptly she had sobered. Thereupon the Runt lost his poise. There was something in his companion’s face that took away all his complacence. “Why,” he stammered, “I thought—I was going to ask—I meant to suggest that we—that you as “Why, Philip Blackbarn! What in the world—are you crazy? “ « « ee” Presentiy the Runt was seated by Plun- kett’s desk. “T knew your father very well,” said the printer. ‘‘He built up a fine business. So you stayed on with the company when he sold out, did you? Getting a pretty good grasp of your jab?” Well, just now I’m a—a sort of—out- side man. I’m running round knocking on doors and trying to get acquainted, espe- cially with the bigger people like yourself.” “T see. Not trying to sell plates?” “Oh, yes, I am. I most certainly am. I want a nice order from Plunkett & Plun- kett. Have you tried our new convex half tones?” “T don’t think so, Haven't any faith in ‘em. What kind of a freak notion is a con- vex half tone, anyhow? Do you mean to say anyone can print with ’em?” (Continued on Page 169)

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168 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST October 9, 1920 ROGERS | S. SITLVERWARE LOUVAIN is the pat- tern illustrated in this correct table setting for he luncheon service. The hop dish ts suggested as one of the several silver dishes which make very sensible gifts. ‘ ‘ > ® Makine the Silver Service DISTINCTIVE SILVER Tea or Coffee Set, or a Vegetable Dish, lines up closer with prevailing ideas on harmony in interior arrangements and decoration when it is of the same pattern as the Spoons, Knives and Forks. It has not always been possible to have this harmony. The brand of silverplate which made it possible is the old and reliable, yet new and distinctive “1847 Rogers Bros.’’—the has Bs which is made in one quality only, the best, and so good that it is guaranteed without qualification. You need not wait until the complete service can be purchased. A piece at a time can be selected. This makes it ideal as an anniversary gift. Sold by le adin r dealers. Write for folder “X90,” illustri rating « other patterns, to the Peta Re Silver Co., Meriden, Conn. lhe kamily Plate for Seventy Years LINTERNATIONAL SILVER CO.

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(Continued from Page 166) “For some classes of work they’re im- mense. Did you see the catalogue Burchell Brothers did for Skyblue Stores?”’ “Yes; nice piece of printing too.” “Done with convex half tones, Mr. Plun- kett. I tell you, they’re a big success. You know it was an idea of father’s, though he never got it worked out to suit him. We call ’em convex, but that’s only a name; they’re not really convex. It’s our method of blocking — patented fastening, you know Our Mr. Haggerty perfected it. Wonderful chap, Mr. Haggerty. Fighting Irishman, you know; won't give up a thing until he has it licked. The idea is, of course, to over- come the vacuum you get from the squeeze of the presses. The poor grades of paper you have to put up with nowadays -" “Poor is no name for 'em, my boy. I don’t know what we're going to do.” “That’s it. Well, our plates don’t pick up the surface of the paper—fact. They give much cleaner work, don’t require wash-up nearly so frequently during the run, even on dull-coated stocks.” “Young man, my superintendent tells me that the last order of plates we had from your house were three days late in delivery.” “Oh, but Mr. Plunkett, that was three yearsago! Things are a good deal improved with us now. “Why, we've got a system over there that can’t be beaten! Every order moves through just like clockwork — production scheme my father evolved— result of all his years of experience. Say, it’s the nearest thing to an air-tight factory plan you ever heard of.” “Don’t care anything about your system; we know all about system in our business. It’s the human equation that'll put out of business any system that was ever in- vented. Sometimes just one person in your plant who won't follow procedure will upset all your calculations. I know to my sorrow. We have to keep weeding ’em out. If your man Haggerty can offset the negligence and carelessness and indifference 4 “Haggerty? Let me tell you, Mr. Plun- kett, Haggerty’sthere! It’sthe morale that counts, and Haggerty’s one great little morale builder. Of course no system’s one hundred per cent efficient unless you have the morale back of it. But I guess we’re getting off the subject. Did I understand you to say you'd ask Mr. Gould to give me an order for half tones?” “Tf I do, can you absolutely guarantee satisfactory plates? Can you give me your personal assurance, Mr. Blackbarn? Of course, knowing your father as I did, I should naturally have confidence in you.” “Oh, sure Mr. Plunkett! That goes without saying. Any orders I take per- sonally—well, to tell you the truth, I’m out for a record, just to show Mr. Haggerty the value of our name and a personal fol- lowing—you know, service. That’s what counts, isn’t it? Thanks, Mr. Plunkett. You tip Mr. Gould off I’m on my way out back, and I'll see him and get his instruc- tions. I'm a thousand times obliged, espe- cially as we haven’t been doing very much for you in the last two or three years. G’-by, Mr. Plunkett.” A shadow lay athwart the desk of Joe Haggerty, manager of the Blackbarn En- graving Company. “Hello, Phil. Drop in for your money? “Partly.” “Boy, you don’t know how peaceful it’s been here since you blew.” The Runt laid a big batch of copy on Haggerty’s desk. It included both draw- ings and photographs, each accompanied by Plunkett & Plunkett's formal order. “There,” said the Runt, “see if you can put that stuff through on time and have it come along right, will you? I gave Mr. Plunkett my personal assurance “But see here, Phil Blackbarn, you're not monkeying with our trade, are you? Great Scott! You lay off or we'll be ruined. We've got salesmen to take care of that, and I don’t want you messing round, balling things up.” “Salesmen? What d’you mean, sales- men? Beicher and Evans? Why, those birds can’t get out of their own dust—only they don’t move fast enough to stir up a dust. Plunkett & Plunkett haven’t bought a square inch of engraving of us for three years—not since we fell down on a delivery that was promised. “T got these orders right from headquar- ters—instructions of Mr. Ingalls Plunkett himself—friend of dad’s. I always won- dered why you were satisfied with a couple ” THE SATURDAY of dead ones calling on the trade. As sales- men, Belcher and Evans are first-rate Kelly pool play $5 “But I tell you, Phil, you can’t butt in | like this! I’m afraid of you. You're a born blunderer.”’ “T’m on the pay roll, Haggerty; and my | conscience won't let me accept money with- out doing a little something to earn it. Gee! Our agreement says I’m to stay only fifteen minutes a week, and I have just five minutes to collect my forty bucks. But say, Hag- gerty, I'll send in a lot of other work I’ve got promised— Archer & Vix’s big catalogue job, with a slather of art work, and some small stuff from the Baxter & Alden Adver- tising Agency—take good care of it. I've staked my rep on your performance, old | bean. So long. Got to make the cashier's window in three minutes.” The Runt dashed out, tipping over a chair and Haggerty’s clothes tree. He glanced over his shoulder as he hastened through the main office, waved his hand at Browny Gilfred and was gone. Mr. Hag- gerty’s buzzer sounded and Browny re- ported in the manager’s room with her notebook. “Take a letter, please,” said Haggerty gruffly. . “Mr. Ingalls Plunkett, President, Plunkett & Plunkett Company, et cetera, et cetera—if you don’t know the address, look it up in the telephone book Dear Mr. Plunkett: This acknowledges re- ’ ceipt to-day of valued orders for engraving, | which will have our best attention. How- ever, I desire to inform you that though we are deeply appreciative of your patronage and will give you at all times the finest grade of work, we trust that hereafter you | will permit us to send one of our duly ac- credited business getters, Mr. Belcher or | Mr. Evans, to handle your orders, as Mr. | Philip Blackbarn is no longer “Oh, Mr. Haggerty!” “Well, what’s the matter?” Haggerty looked truculently at his pretty steno. “Do you think you're fair? If Phil Mr. Blackbarn does manage to do some- thing worth while—and then, what about the customer? Perhaps he will be offended if you try to dictate what salesman goes to solicit his business.”’ Haggerty got up hastily and began pacing the floor. “Now see here, Miss Gilfred,’”’ he began, | “I’m running this business, and besides I know how you feel toward Phil. The other day when he got out, you “Why, Mr. Haggerty, I didn’t say a thing!” “Didn’t you? Seems to me I remember but you—oh, damn—no, no, I don’t mean that. Please excuse me—and have your own way about that Runt. Scratch out what you've written and take this: Dear Mr. Plunkett: This is to acknowledge your esteemed order of the thirteenth instant brought in by—er—our representative, Mr. Philip Blackbarn, and you have our assur- ance that any business of yours will receive our best attention. We take this occasion to thank you for a resumption of your dealings with us and to express the hope that they may be continued with mutual satisfaction. Faithfully yours. “ala There, that suit you any better? I hope he doesn’t get us into trouble—and if he does, Miss Gilfred, you'll hear from me, because I listened to you when my better judgment warned me. That’s all, thanks.” When Browny had retired caught up the inside phone. ‘That you, Belcher? Well, what have you or Evans been Coing about Plunkett & Plunkett? Ever try to get their business back? Hard nut? Well, just because he wouldn’t see you—is that any reason why youshouldn’tkeeptrying? .. . Oh, you will! . Well, allow me to tell you you're about twenty-four hours too late. The Runt beat you to it. And say, Belcher, tell Evans that I believe there's a lot of good business round town that we might have that you boys aren’t getting And hereafter remember nights were made to sleep in, not daytimes. G’by!”’ Haggerty “If you don’t mind, Haggerty, I wish you'd get after that last order of work for the Potter Press. They complain that we haven’t been quite up to snuff on their deliveries.” “Oh, forget it, will you, Phil? Who’s running this shop? You’re always promis- ing these birds a lot of things.” “Nothing unreasonable, Mr. Haggerty, nothing unreasonable. My extensive inside experience in our various departments eReeere 7] he few men who | have not bought | theiy second pai’ of PARIS GARTERS | No metal can touch you | | ave the ones still | —~_—— wearing their first. A. STEIN & COMPANY NEW YORK bhida abi . Chis NY 8 x0) 0) OT) 8 xe) oh |— | ~ 3. Diagonally |b) Eve Coriteny ts “up and down’ as strop moves back and forth enal both old Stropper les —- R'S Slyde-Stroke every man to perfectly strop fashioned razors and all safety blades with the orrect diagonal stroke. As you pull the back and forth /engthwise, the blade sl and down er ‘trop } 5 up vise on the strop resulting in the perfect diagonal stroke, the same anwle 1 the same pressure every time, All the microscopic teeth of the edge that shav I ing bent out of alignment are immediately lin up again for quick, cle an, comfortable shaving q Buy Kanner’s Slyde-Stroke Stropper foday at your nearest dealer's or by mail from me. Pri $5. Use it for 60 days—then get your n back if you want it. Free booklet “How Keep Your Razor Sharp” on request. SAMUEL KANNER, 556 Broadway, New York i mn Kanners Scie Srropre

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geared speedster can be built. Then there's a $6.50 set ($9.75 in Canada) and a big $15 set ($22.50 in Canada). BOYS’ MAGAZINE FREE— Full of good stories, articles on out door and indoor games, athletics, etc, “ Gilbert Boy Engineering, the greatest boys’ book im years, sent at cost —25¢ 4. ©. Gilbert, President THE A. C. GILBERT CO., 119 Blatchley Ave., NEW HAVEN, CONN. 4. C. Gilbert- Menzies Co., Limited, Toronto Gilbert ( = ms ies jietbare g Pus " " < In Canada, The In Angland, The A, ¢ THE SATURDAY EVENING POST qualifies me to judge about how long we | should take to fill a given order.” “You talk like a chump, Phil.” “Yeah, I guess so. Well, it’s that kind of talk that gets the business; that and my resemblance to dad, and the inescapable conviction that I am there, which our cus- tomers gain from the cut of my jib, Hag- gerty—there with the goods to back up my reputation. In justice to you, I will say that as a rule your excellent shop system has justified itself in the service you have been able to render the customers who make up my personal following.” “ Aw, Phil, help, help! Have a heart!” “I- know, Joe. But honest, see if you can’t speed up that Potter stuff, won’t you? I was in their place this morning, and they hopped on me with both feet. But they're nuts about our convex plates, and they think you’re some baby, Haggerty, because I told ’em all about how you perfected the process.” The manager grinned. “Phil, how do you do it?” he inquired. “Well, I'll get after Pete and see what’s the trouble. I guess we’re out of blocks for some of that big work. Don’t worry.” “Say, Joe.” “Well, spill it.” “Sam Yeager, of the Right Engraving ‘ompany, has made me a proposition.” “Oh, I suppose so. What is it?” “Hundred a week and a small interest in the business.” “You wouldn't be worth it.” “Wouldn’t I? My name’s Blackbarn— that cuts ice in our game.” “Not to the same extent that convex plates do.” “No? Well, the Right people have a process that will give our convex half tones a darned stiff battle, let me tell you. I could sell °em—don’t worry.” “What do you want, Phil?” “Oh, I don’t know! I thought I'd just tell you. I’m not making any demands. You think it over. It hasn’t been but four months since you— er— politely handed me my hat. I realize I was a terrible lemon, Joe. But—well, you've got to admit I’ve shown some improvement; at least I’m not inflating your overhead. Oh, criminy! My fifteen minutes are most up—me for the pay window.” “Never mind the fifteen minutes, Phil. Sit down and let’s talk this thing over. Here, have a cigar?” at “So you're coming back into the office, Phil? Isn’t that fine?” The Runt had inveigled Miss Browny Gilfred into dining with him at the same table where once before they had debated the fundamentals of success. “Yeah, goin’ to be sales manager. Not that I’m qualified of course. Too blame’ young. That’s the trouble with me— acute attack of youthful egoitis. But I guess it’s curable. Haggerty’s going to help me. Smart chap, Haggerty.” “You didn’t like him very well a,while ago.” “No. But I sold him so hard to my cus- tomers I got myself into quite a different frame of mind about him. I like him all right now.” “I’m glad you approve of him, Philip.” “T surely do, Browny. Say, it doesn’t jar you a bit to have me call you Browny, does it? Yes, I must say Joe Haggerty has my unanimous consent. As a systematizer he’s immense. Doesn't our office run smoothly? I'll say so! But say, 's funny about Haggerty, don’t you think? You'd expect an ambitious chap like him would want to get married.” “T suspect he does. But—what do you mean by ‘an ambitious chap like him’? Do you consider marrying a matter of 2m- biticn?”

October 9,1920 “Well, don’t you, Browny? If you were married to a fellow, wouldn’t you want him to be ambitious? Wouidn’t you help him to succeed? I tell you, a good wife is a big help.” “Oh, you regard a wife as a stepping- stone to success, do you?”’ “Now, Browny, that’s a terrible way to interpret an entirely innocent remark. But any wise man will agree that a fellow ought to have the right sort of girl if he expects to make good.” “But Mr. Haggerty’s already successful, Phil; and now he finds himself in a posi- tion to offer - “That’s all right, Browny—that’s all right, too, fora man Haggerty’s age. He’s made his success without any girl to help him. But it would have been easier — Oh, well, it’s all in the point of view. You don’t mean to say he’s slipping, do you not at this late date?” “He's slipped already.” “No! Cupid must have thought Joe was a rhinoceros. Bet he busted a lot of arrows before he penetrated that hide. Who’s the lucky lady? Did he tell you?” Browny’s eyes were laughing, though her lips were still serious. “No, he didn’t tell me—he asked me.” “Huh?” “T say, Phil, he asked me.” The Runt gazed across the table in wide- eyed amazement. Then he burst forth: “Well, can you beat that? Can you beat it? Well, well! You and Joe Haggerty! That’s what comes of my not having been about the office much lately. It’s the Hag- gerty system, that’s what it is. And I thought—I was fathead enough to imagine I had a chance! Browny, let me shake the hand that takes down the great man’s let- ters. You and good old Joe! Now isn’t that grand? Why, Browny, it’ssimply immense! And what did I tell you? Did Joe go and pick out some doll baby, some butterfly, that didn’t know a wood block from a piece of chocolate fudge? No, indeed—trust that boy to land a real one! Browny, I’m tickled pink, honestly I am, tickled pink! Too bad about that Eighteenth Amend- ment, because I think the occasion calls for something very special. We'll have to drink it in coffee—two lumps in my cup and—believe me, Browny, one in my throat!” Miss Gilfred watched her companion as he drained his cup. “Phil,” she said soberly, “I’m disap- pointed in you. Not so long ago you pro- posed to me across this very table. I thought you were going out and landing all those wonderful orders to show me what a good woman's influence had done for you; and now you don’t even speak of jumping into the East River or taking a few grains of cyanide. You just sit there and cheer.” Phil grinned. “I’m trying to conceal my broken heart beneath a gay exterior, I shall go on living my life as best I may and suffering in silence. When you are yanking Joe Hag- gerty to church Sunday mornings I shall be seeking forgetfulness in the well-known hay. ‘* As you see me rise to wealth and power, stilla bachelor and still nursing in my bosom the faded blossoms of the old love, you will perhaps pity me—unless you’re too darned busy tending Joe’s kids. ‘“*But never mind; you can say to your- self if it hadn't been for the bawling out you once gave me the engraving business would never have had a young Napoleon tc lead it out of the wilderness—or was it General Grant? I always did have a poor memory for dates. “It’s nice to have your feelings under such perfect control, isn’t it?” observed Browny Gilfred cuttingly. “Isn't it?” agreed the Runt. ”

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GENCO a RAZOR Vs Pieces oath ay Eve b>” oe ence AK si Note how Genco Razors meet the strop in just the proper way to get a perfect shaving edge every time. The back and bevel guide the blade correctly along the strop. There's a dif- ference in strops. It's better to use a Genco Strop 4, Wer THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ~ os oe sy — “Bud, I'll lend you anything of mine except this razor” SERS of other razors are surprised at the U way a man gets to prizing a regular razor. A regular razor—such as every barber uses shaves a man so coolly, smoothly, and econom ically that he immediately regards it as a find. This is particularly true of Genco Razors. You can shave yourself quickly with a Genco, and you can renew its keen cutting edge with three or four light strokes upon the strop. Anybody Can Strop a Genco Razor Most men know that any blade should be stropped before shaving. Notice how carefully the professionals—the barbers—strop first. Three features make stropping a Genco Razor unusually easy: (1) Its broad back; (2) its hollow ground blade; (3) the bevel right behind the edge. These compel a Genco Razor to meet a taut strop at just the correct angle. Call on your dealer and take a Genco Razor in your hand. Note the beautifully tempered steel in it, feel how perfectly it balances. You will be surprised to le arn the reasonable prices at which Genco Razors are sold. Buy one and you will regard it as a find beyond price—a razor you won't think of lending. And remember that “Genco Razors must make good, or we will.” If your dealer is out of GENCO Razors, write to us for one. GENEVA CUTLERY CORPORATION, 230 Gates Avenue, Geneva, N. Y. Largest Manufacturers of High-Grade Razors in the World fO DEALERS Inquiries and orders for (4eNCO Razors arrive by every mail. We prefer to send you those com ingfrom yourtown. Our handsome Genco Dis play Cabinet, free with your first order, will make big sales for you Write today for addi- tional information Reg. U. S. Pat. Off,

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172 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST October 9, 1920 ’ ‘O maintain a reputation for unswerving ideals, the shoe manufacturer cannot The Aberdeen ft . ' : — nie — Shown, together with afford to compromise with circumstances: eee a Z a “re > : F : of fine footgear, in Good leathers are high and not too plentiful. aS The > +]. , , ‘ set 2 7 you are not sure where The Nettleton class of workmanship is to be et einen coe us for name of your nearest dealer. had only from a personnel trained in tradi- tion as well as skill of hand. And a Nettle- ton shoe will retain its individuality and Ake ‘ . CM re integrity long after cheaper shoes demand Qe repair or replacement. A. E. NETTLETON COMPANY, SYRACUSE, N. Y., U.S. A. . of Worth S

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—— WHAT THE CREDIT MAN LOOKS AT (Continued from Page 10) money it had outstanding in accounts among the farmers. The bank would always advance three-quarters of the amount on the ledger; sometimes more. When Walker had nearly ten thousand dollars on his books he felt that he ought to borrow some money on it, and so he carried his ledger over to the cashier and said he guessed he would like to get a loan of a few thousand with the accounts as security. But to Walker’s surprise the cashier did not take to the idea. He pointed out that accounts against farmers were at best slow assets, and that in the present unsettled state of the country a bank must have its affairs well in hand. Walker told him that the bank had always done it for the old con- cern, but the cashier only smiled and said the old concern was a customer of long standing and, of course, must be taken care of at all times. Then forthefirst time Walkerremembered that the stockholders in the old concern were the same men who controlled the policy of the bank. It was not in human nature that they should go out of their way to boost the fortunes of a competitor. But that did not help matters any; it was the only bank in town. Walker therefore tried to make banking connections in a near-by town, but the cashier there told him truly that it was his first duty to take care of the requirements of local merchants and busi- ness men. This put Walker up against it for sure. His stock was badly run down and needed replenishing. He wrote to the wholesalers who had extended him the ten-thousand dollar line of credit, explaining matters and asking them to ship him goods enough to fill in the holes in his stock. Their reply seemed to put the finishing touch on Walk- er’s misfortunes. They wrote that they did not feel like increasing his line of credit at that time; they had gone very carefully over the statement which he had sent them and it did not seem to warrant their ship- ping him any more goods until his present indebtedness had been cut down. The letter ended by saying that they would not press for immediate payment of the money al- ready due, but they positively must hold him to the line of credit originally agreed upon. The fact that they weren't going to sue him right away for what he owed them did not help Walker a great deal. Hisstock was run down to such an extent that he could not supply his customers’ wants. Every day he lost business; people would come into his store all set to buy from him, and when they found out that he did not have what they wanted would march straight across the square to trade with his big competitor. It was several months before he could hope to get in much of the money he had out- standing on his books. The chances were that by the time he had collected his money he wouldn't have any store. Ain Embarrassing Question In this crisis Walker got on the train and came to New York. He first went to the concern which had staked him to the ten- thousand-dollar credit, thinking a personal interview might accomplish what he had failed to do by writing letters. The credit man was very polite, but very firm. He said he was awfully sorry Walker’s affairs were in such a fix, but really he did not see what he could do about it. He took steps to protect his firm’s interests by having Walker sign some notes, payable in the fall when the farmers would have begun to sell their crops and start to settling their bills. For two days after this interview Walker went unhappily round the streets of New York wondering what he was going to do. He had never been in a larger city than Atlanta before, and New York seemed mighty hard and impersonal. He had never realized how little a single individual is, compared with all the rest of the people in the world. He looked up at the buildings in the wholesale district, which bore the signs of great firms whose names he had seen in the trade papers. It seemed too presumptuous for him to go up to any of them and ask for credit for his little one- horse business down in Georgia. But at last he worked his courage up to do it. He decided to try the house first where Elliot was the credit man. never done any business with them, but their traveling man had called on him a couple of times, and he thought it might be a little of an opening wedge if he should go in and mention the traveling man’s He had | name, saying that he knew him personally. | He was just in the act of carrying this plan into effect when I first saw him in front of the elevators on the ground floor of the big office building trying to decide which elevator would carry him to the eighteenth floor. He was a little afraid of Elliot, the credit man, at first. The New Yorker was such a polished individual, with his clothes per- fectly pressed, his finger nails manicured and a green-gold watch chain strung across his upper vest pockets. though all his fifty years had been spent in the atmosphere of big business, fashionable hotels and week-end parties at rich people’s houses. Walker was especially embarrassed when Elliot asked him the question about what kind of automobile he ran. He was afraid it might lower him in the big man’s esti- mation if he confessed that he was such a piker that he did not run any kind of car at all. For a moment he thought it He appeared as | might be wise to say that he had just sold | the old car because it was too small and was thinking about buying a larger one. But he took the more straightforward path and confessed the humiliating truth, The Piker Gets Credit Later, when they went out to lunch to- gether, Walker learned that the credit man was not the pampered child of fortune that he had imagined. Elliot told him that he, too, had been a clerk in a country store when he first went to work—in Ohio somewhere. He knewa surprising lot about small business. He asked Walker how much store rent he had to pay, what wages a good clerk got in Georgia and whether Saturday was the big day for farmer trade. Almost before he knew it Walker was talking to the big man with no more em barrassment than he would have felt in conversation with one of his neighbors back home. He told how he himself opened up the store, and swept out at half past six every morning, and then went home to breakfast after the clerks had come. He confessed that he did not even keep a book- keeper, because he and his wife could do that work in an hour’s time every evening. Walker was a little disappointed that the credit man did not give him a positive an- swer that day, but told him to come back next morning. All that afternoon he walked round the streets looking at the sights and thinking how much better impression he would have made if he had just talked big and given the idea that he was an important man in his community. He felt like kicking himself for telling the credit man about the miserable little economies he practiced. If Elliot turned him down it would certainly be on account of his appearing like a small town piker. His interview with the credit man next morning was very brief. Elliot was busy with some other men, but broke away for a moment as Walker came in the office and advanced to shake hands. “I guess we can do business with you, Mr. Walker,” he said. ‘I have set you down for a credit of twenty thousand dol- lars. One of the boys will take you into the salesrooms if you want to start buying.” Walker spent the rest of the day buying goods. At closing time the salesman who had waited on him drew some money from the office and invited him to go to an up- town hotel for dinner and see a show after ward. Just as they were leaving the hotel to go to the theater Walker permitted him- self an unusual extravagance. He got the salesman to help him compose a night tele- gram, which he sent to his wife, prepaid, informing her that he had tied up with the strongest wholesale house in New York City. The message was couched in words | that were just a little boastful; not overly so, but just enough to let her know that he was something of a wonder when it came to going up against big business men. In such manner Walker got his affairs fixed up, and went back to Georgia, where, | THE SATURDAY EVENING POST th cabinet is a big he keh machine box coping It's one Vawter cabinet Where’s that letter? hosting machine pin fmany Baker Sieei ftitne You sent it to the files and now it can’t be found. It’s exasperating. Sometimes the system is wrong—right equipment lacking. The de- lay may be your fault—not the file clerk’s. Baker-Vawter men know a lot about best office prac- tice. You can get their coun- sel by asking for it. Offices in 47 cities. To facilitate deliveries we maintain production t these points: San Franciseo, Calif Benton Harbor, Mich Hi yoke, 4 Kansas Cit M BAKER-VAWTER COMPANY Originators &’ Manufacturers Loose Leaf & Steel Filing Equipment Canadian Distributors: Copeland-Chatterson, Ltd., Brampton, Ontario “G DeLuxe TO P S AllSeason In these things motorists will find the underlying purpose of Badger DeLuxe Tops. Built of highest grade materials by expert workmen, strikingly beauti ful in finish, California design, securely and permanently attached to your car. Now built for Nash A closed car at a touring car price. (| Comfort supreme—in all weather. The last touch that lends distinc~ / tion to your car. Suick— Essex — Studebaker— Hudson. Write for descriptive literature and Dealer’s Name McAvoy Bros. & Co. Racine -:- Wisconsin Makers of Fine Tops for Automobiles

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174 wy y-9'¢ Re a EE ay A HEREVER shoe prices go, up 49 or down, you can know one Ki thing: you get most for your money when you buy The Florsheim Shoe— style, good looks, fit, comfort, long wear, at a reasonable price, based on what it costs to make shoes good. j Consider the wear, not the price per pair. name —The Florsheim Shoe. Write for booklet “Styles of the Times.” THE FLORSHEIM SHOE Manufacturers The Hampton— THE SATURDAY Look for the : COMPANY Chicago Style M-58 MARK The Carbon Paper That Gives Satisfaction ie is the largest number of good car- can make How copies bon copies you typing? carbon and /ast- with one sharp can be — how clean, ingly readable? What brand of carbon paper does the most work per sheet? To answer these questions, ee” Heal Send for Samples of MultiKopy Carbon Paper MultiKopy will delight you. Write for sample sheets today. MultiKopy Carbon Paper, and the equally superior Star Typewriter Rib bons, world over. F. S. WEBSTER COMPANY 335 Congress Street, Boston, Mass. sold by principal dealers the EVENING POST according to latest reports, he is doing well and sending enough money to his creditors each month to keep everyone contented. He says it will not be long before he will again be able to have a car without the guilty feeling that he is owning it at the risk of his creditors. What I had seen of the affair stimulated my curiosity for more. It seemed an un- usual proceeding that a man could drop in off the street and get himself staked to a twenty-thousand-dollar credit without proving in the least that he was a wonder of a business man. As a matter of fact, Walker had appeared to be just an ordinary sort of man; a good honest plugger perhaps, but decidedly not of the type which one would call brilliant. I knew Elliot, the credit man, fairly well and one afternoon a few days later I hap- pened in on him when he did not appear to be particularly busy. “How come,”’ I said, “‘that you extended credit so easily to Mr. Walker of Georgia? | I neyer heard your house mentioned as a | an automobile he runs? charitable institution. Did he work on your féelings by crying or something?”’ This was merely my little joke. Elliot did not look like one who would put out his firm’s money on sentiment, and I knew that the firm’s credit losses averaged less than one-fifth of one per cent. “No; Mr. Walker of Georgia did not have to cry to get credit,” replied Elliot. “T put him on our books because we are mig ty glad to get him as a customer. ‘I guess you are like a lot of other peo- ple,” Elliot went on, “who have very little idea of what a credit man really is for. You think that my main occupation is to sit up here in my office and look over people’s credit ratings, carefully turning down any business that isn’t backed up by a strong financial statement. Our traveling men are pretty sarcastic about me some- times. Only a few days ago I overheard one of them telling a friend that he could do twenty per cent more business in his territory if it wasn’t for that tightwad of a credit man who only wants to play sure things. “T suppose there really are some credit men who will only do business with high- rated concerns, but you can take it from me that such wholesalers do not make much progress. Suppose, for instance, that I have a rule to sell goods on credit only to concerns which are worth twenty-five thou- sand dollars or more. It is easy to see how such a policy would work out.” The Analysis of Walker “For the first year or two we should go along fine. We shouldn’t be caught in any failure, and we shouldn’t be worried by a lot of letters from fellows who write in that business is pretty dull with them and asking if it will be all right to take another thirty days on the part of the account which is already past due. But we have got to re- member that this is a big and growing country. In towns everywhere, big and little, there are fellows starting up in busi- ness who are going to hustle themselves into strong competition with the old con- cerns. “Suppose I refuse to do business with any of these young fellows until they can show me they are worth twenty-five thou- sand dollars. The result would simply be this: When they got to be worth that much, and we tried to do business with them, they would probably throw our traveling man out the door. They would reason, and with entire justice, that we waited for someone else to put them on their feet, and we could wait a while longer. Then in a few years more, as our old customers began to go out of business, we should start to dry up, and eventually have to get out of business ourselves. ““A wholesale house has got to take some chances if it is going to progress. It is a foregone conclusion that there are going to be some losses. The main thing is to weed out the chances so carefully that the losses won’t amount to muc Elliot sat back in his chair and gave him- self up to reflection for a few minutes. “Now in regard to Mr. Walker of Georgia,” he finally went on. “I do not consider that I took any chances at all with him. I talked with him for two solid hours, and found that he took his obliga- tions very seriously. He is willing to-work, and he is doing his best to keep expenses down. “Did you hear me ask him what kind of I always ask some October 9,1920 question like that to find out how much a man is willing to sacrifice. I don’t say I should have turned Walker down if he had answered differently, but a8 soon as he told me that he had sold his car to keep down expenses I made up my mind that he was a safe gamble. “Tt isn’t especially the car that I care about. In fact I believe every man ought to own one when he can afford it. But I don’t believe he ought to own one on other people’s money. “Of course the same thing applies to any expensive luxury. In Walker’s case it showed decided character that he was will- ing to sell his car because he was owing money. In a small town like his an auto- mobile means a great deal more than it would here in New York. It was a mark of social distinction; his wife and children were awfully fond of it. When he gave it up it was evidence that he felt his business obligations very strongly, and was willing to sacrifice a good deal to be able to meet them. “No wholesaler is going to lose much money on men like Walker. It is the plunger that we are afraid of. If anyone is going to plunge on our money we want to do it ourselves. In my two hours’ talk with Walker I learned that he knew his business thoroughly; that he was working early and late; and that he was not spend- ing a dollar unnecessarily. Then I told him to come back the next morning. This gave me time to telegraph the credit-agency representative in his county asking for verification of the conditions as Walker had described them. The credit-agency man's reply was satisfactory. After that there was nothing to it but tell Walker to go ahead and buy our goods.” False Economies “T figure that I did a mighty good day’s work in getting his name on our books. Weshall have to carry him along for a while, but a man like that is going to get ahead. One of these days Walker is going to be on a cash basis, and we will have made a valuable customer who will stick to us. Though we are going to have to wait sev- eral months before we get any money on this first purchase of his, I wouldn’t sell the account for a hundred cents on the dollar.” What I saw of the turning point in the life of Mr. Walker of Georgia opened up a whole vista of thought. Elliot, the credit man, had taken him on as a customer be- cause he had shown himself to be econom- ical in his business operations. Was this merely a fad on the part of Elliot, or do credit men generally have the same ideas? Just what do credit men consider extrava- gance anyhow? The only way to find out was to go and ask them. The opportunity came on a recent trip during which I talked with credit men in a dozen different lines of business and in cities widely separated. Invariably each credit executive said that a debtor’s habits of economy or ex- travagance had a direct bearing on his standing with the firms he wants to do business with. The different credit men had all sorts of ideas as to what is con- sidered extravagance in a business man. The credit dispenser of a wholesale gro- cery firm stated that he considered the most expensive thing a merchant could do was to get along without hired clerks, work- ing the various members of his family in the store instead. He said he always watched very closely the account of a business run that way. “On the surface it looks as though the merchant might be economizing when he gets along without hired clerks,” said this executive, “but it doesn’t work out that way. None of the family draws any regular amount. They take the money out of the cash drawer to pay bills with, and if they need anything out of stock they just take it. This always makes for unbusinesslike methods and extravagance. One of the first questions I always ask a man who comes in here for credit is how many clerks he employs and how much he pays them. If he tells me he is getting along cheap be- cause his boys and girls work in the store for nothing I usually find some excuse for not opening an account with him.” Another credit manager, also in the wholesale grocery line, carries the same theory even further. ‘He will noti extend eredit to any merchant who pays his clerks less than good living wages. Cheap help, he contends, is an extravagance that will (Continued on Page 177)

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' { \ THE SATURDAY EVENING POST dsworth Cases FOR FINE WATCHES What care do you give your watch? Do you wind it up fully at the same hour each day? Do you have your jeweler examine and oil it at least once a year and, if necessary, clean and adjust the parts? Tue owner of an automobile realizes that the motor must be constantly lubricated and occasionally in- spected and adjusted. And yet this same man, perhaps, may allow his watch —a mechanism infinitely more sensitive — to run year after year without attention. The observance of a few simple rules will give your watch a longer life. In the conviction that a knowl- edge of these rules will benefit each owner of a watch, Wadsworth, maker of cases for fine watches, is bringing them to your attention. On the care of your watch Makt it a regular habit to wind your watch fully at the same hour each day — remember, it has to run for twenty-four long hours. If your watch is to run at highest efficiency and with the least araount of wear, it should be taken to the jeweler for oiling and inspection at least once a year. It is especially important that a watch should have this attention before the last particle of oil has disappeared from the bearings. Occa- sionally, have your jeweler take the movement How to get better service from your watch apart and clean it thoroughly. Every watch accumu- lates dirt particles which, in time, impede its per- formance. The fit of the case Ir is important, therefore, to have a case that does accurately fit the movement and protect it in order to reduce the accumulation of dust to a minimum. For 30 years Wadsworth has been making cases for fine watches — cases designed to fit exactly; cases as dust-proof and air-tight as it is possible to make them. For 30 years leading manufacturers and importers of watch movements have been using Wadsworth cases. To Wadsworth also is due much of the credit tor the development of style and artistic beauty in watch cases. When you buy a watch, select any standard move- ment that your jeweler recommends and have him “dress” it in a Wadsworth case. The name Wads- worth in a watch case is your guarantee of correctness and beauty of design — of highest quality materials and best workmanship. THE WADSWORTH WATCH CASE CO., CINCINNATI, OHIO FACTORIES: DAYTON, KENTUCKY

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176 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST October 9,1920 HARDING ann COOLIDGE —AND EVERYBODY’S BUSINESS HE business of this nation is not “big business.” Lhe big business of this nation ts little business. hat is the view of the Republican Party and its leaders. It is the view of the American people. Business is not something that stands apart from any of us. It is the intimate, vital concern of every man,woman and child. American business is every hody's business. Che business of America is the business of the hundreds of chousands. Almost everyone runs a The big corporation runs a business, but The em ployer runs a business, and so do all the millions business. so does the woman whoruns the home. of workers. NY unit of creative work is a business. The man who ya operates a single machine tn a factory ought to look upon himself and be regarded by others as a business man His single operation 1s th bookkeeping, for spec ial , He ts a little manutacturer subject for unit cost studies, for ficiency, for profit or loss, for success or failure. of American business is made up of the all the peopl The whole fabri threads of effort of the American people » eves W THEN a yovernment, instead of confining itself to the exaction of high standards of honorable dealing, whi ire the standards of America, begins by legislation ind ¢ extraordinary war powers to unravel the fabric, every thread in the fabric teels the pulling and hauling You feel tt You will feel, with the rest of us, that we need the best minds the yp orgy Party can draw those oft the wanker ‘ and those of the farmer, those of the riilroad vorker, and those of the steamship owner, those of the nanutacturer, and those of the women—to restore \merican business to sanity and health. Let's be done with wiggle and wobbk I ets be done with meddle and and muddle. Let’ s be done with wiggle and wobble From Boston Herald BIRD OFFERS $1000 FOR G. 0. P. VICTORY Rakes Democrats in Telegram to Will H. Hays Charles Sumner Bird yesterday sent the following telegram to Will H. Hay chairman of the Republican National Committee “I have not been asked to subscrilx one dollar for the Republican campaign, but you may call on me for $1000, which | understand is the limit you will a cept from one individual This sub scription is but a feeble expression of my supreme contempt for the campaign of misrepresentation and hypocrisy which Cox and Roosevelt are conducting, The business of the country, both big and little, has been muzzled by the Demo cratic administration which Gov. Cox ipports and would perpetuate “My business has never asked for uriff protection or governament patron ge, but we resent unnecessary govern ment interference and obstruction which ill business has received from the Democratic administration. Every dol lar honestly applied by you to insure an overwhelming and decisive Republican victory will be to the advantage of the American employer, the American wage earner and the American people. I am not in politics. | am not in Wall Street I speak as a business man for Amer ican business, which oné more Demo cratic administration would strangle and bury. Get them out. Save business. Keep them out.” The telegram, clipped from a newspaper and printed in the adjoining column, sounds in large part as if It were the voice of the whole of the American people. * * * * \ R. BIRD isamanufacturer. He is not a juggler with 4 securities. He is a producer—a big and honest pro ducer. His labor record stands high. He was a Democrat all his life until he followed Roosevelt in the Progressive movement. Note what he says in the article reproduced he re P ° ‘ P HERE is not a farmer in the United States who does not know how the Democratic administration has tinkered with his business. Chere is not a manufacturer in the United States who has not had his boat rocked by the interference of the Democratic administration. There is not a retailer in the country who today can be sure whether he is on his feet or whether the Democratic bungling has stood him on hts head. There is not a laborer who can be sure that a little more meddling by muddlers would not close his shop, along with the other shops, and set him out on the bricks walking for a job. . * k + * HERE is not a voter, and certainly not a taxpayer, who cannot see, if he looks back, these things: Billions lost because of unpreparedness for war. Billions lost because of unpreparedness for peace. Billions lost wiggling and wobbling. Bungling of the League of Nations idea in Paris. A government that not only showed itself unfitted to run the business of the country, but a government that could not run its own business. The Republican Party will restore: Government by representation. Government by ab le men. Government that consults the people. Government with a business organization. Government that sets a high standard of honor for American business, but stops pulling American business toward the precipice. Let’s be done with meddle and muddle Ne wlio Republican National Committee

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(Continued from Page 174) down any business sooner or later. To support his argument he showed me the figures on a bankruptcy case that had just occurred in his trade territory. The bankrupt was a man established in a town of about twenty thousand popula- tion. He had started in a small way fifteen years before, and prospered along with the town, which had grown very rapidly. He did so well in fact that he eventually added a wholesale department, and at the time of his failure was doing a business of more than forty thousand dollars a month. The man himself was a hard worker and economical in his personal habits. He was at his place of business every morning be- fore seven o'clock, and usually put in a couple of hours’ work after closing time. As his business developed he had to employ clerks, but figured that he would employ cheap ones and make just that much more money. He was such an active worker himself that he thought he could overlook every- thing. He waited on customers; he would run back to explain things to the book- keeper; and he would dash out to the back yard to supe rinte nd the loading of a ship- ment of goods Fleming's Fatal Mania But his personal industry could not make up for the losses incurred through his ex- travagant habit of employing cheap help. He never paid his clerks anything near the money which other concerns were paying. If a man developed into a valuable em- ployee, and asked for salary commensurate with his worth, the merchant let him go and filled the position with someone willing to work cheap. At the time bankruptcy proceedings were started his bookkeeper, handling a business of forty thousand dollars a month, was drawing a salary of twenty-two dollars and fifty cents a week. Cheap help meant confusion, mistakes and worse. When the expert sent by the creditors to investigate the merchant's af fairs arrived he learned among other things that the store porter was getting six dollars a week. The man, an ignorant old for- eigner, had been in the merchant’s employ for twelve years, and in addition to his wages was allowed to live rent free in a shack back of the store. He was allowed also to have the goods boxes for his fire- wood. All this was explained to the representa- tive of the creditors. The second day of his visit, however, he saw the old porter strug- gling out the back door with a goods box which appeared heavier than it should be, and he called the merchant’s attention to it, suggesting that it might be well to in- vestigate. The old man was stopped just as he was going into the door of his wooden shack, and the box which had appeared so unusually heavy was taken away from him. In it was found a hundred-pound bag of sugar. The merchant, shocked at the ingrati- tude of an employee of twelve years’ stand ing, spo ke to the old man sadly ‘How could you do a thing like that, Tete,”’ he said, “‘after working for me all these years?” Old Pete made a melancholy picture as te stood there in front of his shack in the back yard of the grocery store, his char- acter gone and nothing else to fall back on, “TI am awful sorry,” he said, “but I didn’t get much wages, and I was scared you would fire me if I asked for more; and it was so easy to take things that I pretty near couldn't help it.’ Old Pete and “his boss had both gone bankrupt, victims of a pernicious business policy. It was in the office of a prominent whole- sale hardware concern in a city of the Mid- dle West that the credit manegerle.ned back in his chair and reflected a few minutes be- fore he answered my question as to what he considered the worst thing a business man can do from a credit standpoint. “T guess about the most dangerous habit a business man can acquire,” he said finally, ‘“‘is to become overfond of seeing his name in the papers of his home town. A lot of men go down to failure from no other reason than that. “Of course a man ought to be public- spirited,’ the credit executive continued, “but not so public-spirited that his credi- tors may have to suffer for it lateron. With some men it becomes sort of a disease to run round doing things that will get THE SATURDAY their pictures in the paper; tioned in the public prints as a live meat and drink to them.” The credit executive reached in his desk and drew out a file of papers, which he spread out for my inspection. Among the papers were a number of newspaper clip- pings, letters, telegrams and photographs They were exhibits in the case of a man who may as well be called Fleming, and revealed how disastrous it can be sometimes for a man who cannot afford it to become a live wire. ‘Fleming used to be ac ustomer of ours,’ explained the credit man, “having a hard- ware store in a town of about fifteen thou- sand inhabitants a couple of hundred mil from this city. “Fleming became one of the commu nity’s most ardent boosters. Whenever there was money to be raised for any pub- lic purpose he was always chairman of the committee which went from store to store on Main Street wringing subscriptions from less willing merchants. dent of the retail merchants, a director of the chamber of commerce and chairman of the spring carnival association. There is no quicker way to become prominent in a town than to do things that are too much trouble for other people to do. Fleming began to get his name in the paper almost every day in connection with some public enterprise. ‘*Meanwhile his hardware store was not doing very well. He was owing for more than half his stock, and when bills fell due he always had to scramble to meet them. His usual method was to let a bill run as long as possible or until the creditor began to write disagreeable letters about it; then he would send a ninety-day note. ““My house wes selling Fleming a great deal of merchandise at that time, and the account grew so large that I finally wrote him to come up to the city and talk mat- ters over with me. He came, bringing his scrapbook of personal clippings with him We spent several hours together, during which time Fleming did most of the talk- ing, telling me about his activities as a public-spirited citizen. I remember he took a full half hour to explain exactly how he fixed himself up when he rode at the head of the parade of nations during the spring carnival. I began to sense what was the matter with Fleming’s hardware business. wire is He was owing my firm nearly ten thousand | dollars, and I thought it was up to me to try to straighten him out, even at the risk of appearing meddlesome. Besides, I liked Fleming personally. He was a nice, well- meaning fellow, only afflicted with a fatal passion for publicity.” Misplaced Boosting ‘Fleming,’ I said, ‘you can't afford to do all these things. It is fine of you to be such a booster for your town, but you ought to let someone else do part of it. Your hardware business is suffering because you are spending so much time on the outside.’ ““*How can you say my business is suf- fering,’ said he, laying his hand impres- sively on a full column article with his picture at the top, ‘when I am getting publicity like this? I am just about the best advertised man in my community. I am making customers every day by my activities in public affairs.’ ‘Fleming,’ I said, ‘you owe a good deal of money in proportion to the value of your stock of merchandise. If you should die to-morrow, and your zffairs be wound up at forced sale, your creditors would not get a hundred cents on the dollar.’ ““My arguments had no effect. Fleming merely thought I was interfering in his pri- vate affairs. He feit that his scrapbookful of publicity would surely bring business success. From that time I began gradually to draw in our account with Fleming. I in- structed our traveling man to forget to call on him when he was in the town, and we | quit sending him our monthly bulletin of | bargains. I did not propose to do any- thing that would hurt Fleming's chances, but I wanted to get out of the danger zone. “Fleming kept on being a prominent citizen and getting his picture in the paper. Among his other activities, he was an in- veterate joiner of lodges. “Last year the grand convention of one of the orders to which Fleming belonged was held in a big Eastern city. lodge prepared to send delegation, headed by its marching corps and band. to be men- | He got to be presi- | The local | representative | A minstrel show was pulled off | EVENING POST Because grease hardens in cold weather In winter, an unusual number of spring bolts squeak because of the failure of grease to lubri cate them properiy hey finally wear down, as the photo graph reproducec here shou 5 and cause rattles Cat away view of Model * OiL_Kipp fr spring | bolts and other horizontal | positions. Specially or ed Kipp-Adapters fit | Kipps to any make of | truck or car | | Many cars develop squeaks and rattles during the winter because cold weather makes grease lubrication almost impossible. No matter what grease devices are used, the grease hardens, covers even less of the bolt than usual, and cakes, and clogs up drill-holes. Squeaks develop, the grinding friction that Model “H” Oil-Kipp for causes them wears down the bolt, and rattles soon follow. verticat positions such as steering knuckles. Oil. Kipps do away with" hard steering,” s0 common in fon r nd winter, caused b; fcilure of grease to abn cate With Oil-Kipps the lubrication of spring-bolts and steering knuckles is easy, even in the coldest weather. Oil-Kipps are small magazine force pumps that shoot heavy oil over the entire bearing surface of spring-bolts and steering knuckles. One filling from the oil-can loads them with shots enough for a month. By simply pumping their spring plungers, you can lubricate your entire chassis in three minutes. Send for the free bulletin, “Silencing the Chassis.” MADISON-KIPP CORPORATION MADISON, WISCONSIN Oil-Kipps KEEP CARS NEW : . phe. il) For Twenty Years i ‘ UGGAGE made genuine Keratol has been remarked for its unusually long wear and distinguished appearance. comes In a Variety Keratol of ; and suitable for | } | ot vTains colors every sort of luggage, including Walrus and Seal grains that would make the animals them selve i] jealous e Keratol COMPANY New J Spec ify & Ge TUL THE KERATOL

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Dye it Right? Don’t Streak, Spot or Ruin your Material 1 Dyes” a Poor Dye ‘Diamond Dyes” contains directions so simple that any woman can diamond-dye worn, shabby coverings, everything, a new, rich, * fadeless color, no matter what the material may be. no other kind—then perfect results are guaranteed even if you have never dyed before. 175 J oe ®. nA. Y ach package of , Tae yy garments, draperies, % ike © \ Buy “Diamond Your druggist has Vf 16 rich colors. i , / It ta Woolens Sweaters Blouses Silks Draperies Children’s Coats a “Diamond Dyes” Color Card showing and really fun to diamond-dye Skirts Stockings Curtains Ginghams Jackets Cottons Dresses Linens Hangings Coverings Mixed Goods Everything! ra De o Ml, ES Wells & Richardson Co., Div. of Edw. Wesley & Co. MISS HELEN MeDANIE!t of Maryland The 831 Independence Square Philadelphia, Pennsylvania Curtis Publishing Company Gentlemen: 1, too, should like extra money. Please tell me how to earn it in spare hours. Name Street Address Town State $15Q00 Extra In one month’s spare time Miss McDaniel easily earned this amount ome wee me meee ewes eee eeeecean!s Miss Helen McDaniel is a slip of a girl who lives in a Maryland city. She is still in school, so she doesn’t have many spare hours to devote to any sort of money-making work. But she is determined to make these few hours pay her well—that’s why she wrote to us a short time ago for ap pointment as our subscription representative. She's just a begin- ner, without previous experience in the work, yet she has been able, in a single month, to earn as many as one hundred and fifty extra dollars. Your Opportunity Right now we need more men and women on our subscription staff. “The Saturday Evening Post, The Ladies’ Home Journal and The Country Gentle- man are becoming more popular every day, and it requires a larger field force to care for the demand for new and renewal subscriptions. Can you sell us a few hours each week? We will be glad to pay you liberally for them in cash commissions and salaries. You don’t need experience—Miss McDaniel had none. You don’t need money to invest—we furnish free your complete equipment. An inquity involves no obligation ! “WE Clip This Coupon Now! at the opera house to raise funds, the house being crowded at both matinée and night performances with citizens who had been worried into buying tickets at two dollars apiece. A souvenir program was also issued, which netted a handsome profit, one hundred dollars being the price of a full-page advertisement in it. “The chamber of commerce was also talked into making a contribution. The lodge members argued that it would be splendid publicity for the community to have a big delegation at the convention, all wearing fancy hatbands and carrying ban- ners with the name of the town on them. It was felt that people living in less favored places would want to come there to live immediately after seeing such a bunch of | live wires at the convention. probably felt a litt “Fleming was gp a delegate. He e guilty at leaving his business for the two weeks required for the trip, but argued to himself that it was his duty to go, especially as all his expenses were to be paid by the lodge. His affairs were not in very good shape. He employed two clerks and a bookkeeper, all conscien- tious workers, but his outside work had taken up so much of his time that his store had suffered. “Fleming went to the convention. He marched at the head of his delegation in all the parades and gave out souvenirs at the Seadienentens hotel, having a splendid time and proud to be of such great service to his home town. He collected more convention badges than any other man present, having both front and back of his coat covered with the gay emblems of brass with fancy ribbons. His hardware business back home seemed a small thing in comparison with the important work he was doing. “During Fleming's absence at the con- | vention a trade acceptance for a thousand dollars fell due. It was one which he had given an Eastern wholesale house in pay- ment for a bill of goods. This trade accept- ance was forwarded to a local bank for collection, and at the proper time was sent round to Fleming's store for payment. The bookkeeper sent back word that Mr. Flem- ing himself was out of town, but would surely attend to the matter as soon as he got back. The bank cashier answered that by rights he cught to return the paper to the wholesale house at once, but he would Octobcr 9,1920 make an exception this time and hold it until Mr. Fleming returned from the con- vention. “However, Fleming did not come home as soon as he was expected. The live wires of the delegation suggested that the bunch go to New York from the convention city and’ spend a few days there, showing the old burg what a Rm of lot of boosters they really were. Fleming knew he ought to go home, but did not want to be a piker and so went along. “Fleming was a week late getting home. The bank meanwhile had held the thousand- dollar trade acceptance as long as it could, and had then returned it to the wholesale house. The morning that Fleming got back to his store a very sharp letter arrived from the wholesalers stating that they were not at all satisfied with the way the matter had been handled and insistirig that Fleming send them a check for a thousand dollars by return mail. “Fleming was in kind of a bad fix. His clerks had not done a very good business during his absence. A number of people had come in to settle their bills, but had put the matter off when they found the proprietor was not in. After paying neces- sary expenses, the bookkeeper had been able to accumulate a bank balance of only about eight hundred dollars. “Fleming framed up a little fiction on the wholesale house. He had his book- keeper send a telegram stating that Mr. Fleming had not yet come back from his trip, but that the matter would be at- tended to promptly on his return. “This subterfuge might have worked out all right, except for one unfortunate cir- cumstance. The traveler for the wholesale house happened to be in town that day, and saw Fleming in his store. “The wholesale house might have stood for the delay in the payment of the thou- sand dollars, but when they learned through their traveling man that Fleming had tried to put something over on them they promptly turned the whole matter over to their attorneys. “Fleming's other creditors heard of the suit, and made haste to collect theirs before it should be too late. His business was tipped over in the ensuing scramble. Fleming now has a position on the road selling a line of hardware specialties.” - THE SATURDAY IS fully protected by copyright. The use of our articles or quotations from them for advertising promotions and stock-selling schemes is never authorized. EVENING POST Table of Contents October 9, 1920 SHORT STORIES PAGE A Short Natural History—ZJrvin S. Cobb 3 Annie Carey— Mary Brecht Pulver 8 The Lure— Richard Washburn Child 12 Marsh Light— Helen Topping Miller 16 Two Weeks With Pay—Nina Wilcox Putnam 20 The Runt— Henry Payson Dowst 30 Salute to Propriety— Thomas Joyce 40 SERIALS Seed of the Sun— Wallace Irwin 24 The Pagan Madonna— Harold MacGrath 26 ARTICLES Watchdog of the World—George Pattullo . 6 What the Credit Man Looks At—/J. R. Sprague 10 A New Traveler Over an Old Road—E. W. Howe 11 Doings in the Doldrums— Samuel G. Blythe 14 Honest National Readjustment Our Task—A. P. Pinci 18 Our Commercial Relations With Canada— Thomas Walker Page 22 Forty Years of a Diplomat’s Life— Baron Rosen 23 DEPARTMENTS Editorial— By the Editor 28 Everybody's Business— Floyd W. Parsons 36 The Wonders of Washington 49 Sense and Nonsense 53 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. Be sure to give your old address as well as the new one. Duplicate copies cannot be sent to |

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST

executive hand The touch tells lhe fingers are the eyes of the blind, someone has said. Many

a vital message 1s carried to the brain over the nerve wires through

that wonderful receiver, the hand. Whether it is the hand of the executive, the correspondent, the accountants hand accountant or the artist-penman,the minute a Signet-dipped pen writes a line on the paper the hand can feel Signet’s goodness The touch of the pen proclaims Signet’s superiority. Efficiently it is superior; it is eminently superior because it 1s safe— permanent. A bond, deed, contract, transfer or legal document signed with Signet will lve signatory te stimony as long as the paper lasts. Signet 1s made and guaranteed by the makers of LePage’'s Glue. And just as this Universal Mender has attained universal dis

tribution, so Signet is being sold by dealers everywhere. To get dealer has it or will gladly get it for you. RUSSIA CEMENT COMPANY Laboratory and Factory, Gloucester, Mass. in ink that is satisfactory in every way, ask for Signet. Your BLUE- BLACK 3 MOE By ‘worn FaMOS | |< MFRS, maser LEPAG ESM oe THE PERMANENT | aera awe MAK ——— aN —— IE PAGE ‘Ss GLUE I ee

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180 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST “The motor-equipped washing machine is an accepted utility in most modern homes. Net only has this household servant relieved wash day of its drudgery and backaches, but in homes where a laundress is employed it has proven an attractive inducement in obtaining and retaining reliable help. Remember —when you buy your motor-powered wash- ing machine —to look at the motor; for upon its motor service is based much of the usefulness and economy of the machine. Since few women, or men even, are competent judges of a motor, the safe way is to buy a washing machine powered with a Robbins & Myers Motor. Then you know it is dependable, economical, simple in operation. Realizing the importance of this advantage, the follow- ing manufacturers of electric power washing machines have adopted Robbins & Myers Motors as standard equipment: October 9,1920 Altorfer Bros. Co., Peoria, II Locomotive Electric Washing Machine Co Almetal Mfg. Co., Maplewood, Mo Belleville, I] \pex Appliance Co., Chicago, Ill Maxwell's, Ltd., St. Mary's, Ont Apex Electric Mfg. C« Cleveland, Ohi Meadows Mfg. Co., Pontiac, Ill Bell Washer & Wringer Co., Cleveland, Modern Laundry Machine Co., Ka Oh Blacks tone Mfg. Co., Jamestown, N. Y. Ro Washing Machir Corpor Central Mfg. Co., St. Louis, Mo chester, N. Y. J. H. Connor & Sons, Ltd., Ottawa, Ont S. E. Schroder Mfg. Co., Minier, I! ee ae Le n, Hamilton, Ont., Laie Washian Shistiien: Cau, 0) toi Gillespie Eden Corporation, St. Louis, Mo. M Haag Bros. Co., Peoria, Ill Superior Machine Co., S iM W. A. Kribs Co., Ltd., Hespeler, Ont., Syracu Washer Corpor Syracu Canada N. ¥ Landers, Frary & Clark, New Britain, Victor Mfg. Co., Leavenworth, Ka r in Wayne Mfg. Co., St. Louis, Mc R & M Motors are also found on suction sweepers, add- ing and addressing machines, meat and coffee grinders, and other motor-equipped utilities of a higher grade, as well as on labor-saving machines in progressive factories. Look for the Robbins & Myers name plate on the motor. You need never give the power a thought after that. The Robbins & Myers Company, Springfield, Ohio For Twenty-three Years Makers of Quality Fans and Motors Branches in All Principal Cities Robbins & Myers

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Cleaning the teeth is not enough—the teeth must be kept clean. And it is essential to keep the mouth in a hygienic condition. This is what VIVOMINT does. One of the ingredients of VIVOMINT is the most powerful antiseptic known to science —an antiseptic that is used every day in many of the large hospitals and by doctors and surgeons the world over. Brush your teeth with VIVOMINT. Notice the delicious, creamy foam that enters into every inter-dental crevice and into the tiny folds of mouth membrane. A et Rhee inciialinisdhendeesinemmealiadiaed rae snueen [to meen — <r = ae 25, a eee Every bubble of this foam carries that wonderful germ destroyer that protects your teeth against tartar and decay. : H VIVOMINT is a sensible tooth paste for sensible people. — HEE ¢ “Vivaudou’s Preparations Send the coupon below for a trial tube today. | for Men . 1 Hh 4 . Shaving Cream Take home a tube of Vivaudou Shaving Cream today. Its cool, soothing freshness will make you enjoy your morning shave For sale at most druggists’ After Shaving Talcum Most men con- sider Vivau- dou's After Shaving Tal- cum a refresh- ing essential. Delightful to use, it will start you off on your day's work wit

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