The Saturday Evening Post 1922-01-28: Vol 194 Iss 31

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THE SATURDAY EVEN(&iG POST ct an An lied Weekly Masia" Foi@pded ¢ Benj. Franklin BA SOS ees: s iy c sea Meat ee st © AGEN Ro Bho. SN RE aS Ria Sao 2 5c. THE COPY 10c. in Canada Oe Vay a eet Se ee ee ie Sgr Eee s IAL Ah SS IS gk Lage JAN.28,1922 me - ae “=f iz so al Beginning THE WINTER BELL-— By Henry Milner Rideout

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pact: 4 cee a GOOD CLOTHES = " we * * Pon 3 4 2 t Ce aX . i z = ae y | #2 £ : PAS a So Oi € «e CAn investment in good appearance PO NE LT LTT. —~

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST A Westclox for $1.50 HE entire Westclox family started the new year with new price tags. Pocket Ben, the husky, double-back watch, has changed his six-cornered, orange-bor- dered tag to read $1.50. America, the founder of the Westclox family, now sports a tag which says $1.50 on the price side. Big Ben and Baby Ben, the best-known Westclox, have set the price of their services at $3.50 each, provided they are not asked to tell time in the dark. WESTERN CLOCK CO., LA Makers of Westclox: Big Ben, Baby Ben, Pocket Ber Factory: Peru, Illinois, In Canada: Wester With this extra service they ask $4.75. In between $1.50 and $4.75 are nine styles and prices of Westclox, but only one quality, and that is Westclox. A heavier case, a larger gong, a special alarm feature, a luminous dial, may make the difference in price. A timepiece, to earn the right to wear the name Westclox, on its dial, must prove its ability to tell time ace urately. If it has an alarm it must show that it can ring on time as well as run on time. SALLE, ILLINOIS, U.S.A. , , Glo-Ben, America, Meter, | ’ Lantert ( Peterborough, Ont

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- THE SATURDAY EVENING POST January 28,1922

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Company A.W. Neall Arthur M< Neogh Published Weekly George Horace Lorimer EDITOR The Curtis Publishing Churchill Williams, FS. Bigelow | Cyrus H. K. Curtis, President } C. H. Ludington, Vice-President and Treasurer Entere P. S. Collins, General Business Manager 5 Walter D. Fuller, Secretary William Boyd, Advertising Director Ad j Independence Square, Philadelphia Founded APD! 1728 by Benj. Fran klin Chats a ed iditic os Sex ©, at the Under the T. B.Costain, Associate Editers nd-Class Matter, November 1* st Office at Philadelphia Act of Merch 3, 187° nal Entry as Second-Class Matter lumbus, Ohio. at Decatur, Ilinols, at llinois, and at Indianepelis. Ind London: 0, Henriette Street Entered as Second-Class Matter at the Covent Garden. 4. C. Copyright, 1922, by The Curtis Publishing Company in the United States and Great Britein Title Registered in U. S. Patent Office and in Foreign Countries Post-Office Department, Onawa, Canad

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Volume 194 Sl, Tae ta tee PHILADELPHIA, PA., | JANUARY 28, 1922 $2.00 THE YEAR Number 31

THz WINTER BELL

With Rapid Sureness of Touch, Unhindered by the Smoke Curling Upward, He Wrote or Printed Across the Board der rness wi ithout borders the re appeared N ALL the last thin drift of snowstorm 7 A, “Ge tnatswent the lake and made ita wi: JW lemry Milmer Rideout «x

Never only one dark object. This was a man ILLUSTRATED BY F. R. GRUGER he yt on snowshoes, who came with the wind at hi ps his back. Smoking flights of dry snow continually outstripped him; his breath whirled one snow-crusted mitten rough ucross them, and tl ahead and vanished in them; so that his advance over the white waste had a labored away some pain of body or grief of mind, went sw air, as if he were lagging amid universa! hurry. et, almost grim ae who had tried to keep pace with him would have found this retardation a mere “We'll git a thaw pooty qu fancy, perhaps a painful fancy after half an hour or so; for Salem Delaforce was moving His bear-paw snowshoes left their oval print " rapi ily , “with a light swing, more trot than walk. A white rabbit, hanging dead at | seen, drew a rigid traight line the yw. Wit waist in front, joggled as if trying limply to run, head downward. Big-boned, spare, instinct, from one hidden point far be 1 toward Salem had even in winter wrappings a look of slenderness which, like his present gait, wirling space he had come direct; and now this cha deceived the eye. Kersey trousers tucked into yellow oil-tanned larrigans, and an old while drifts no longer spun upward from the lake, and brownish blanket coat, mottled with erminelike dabs of pale red and gray, hung looss dry salt to pellets of sag iffected marcel t at upon him to disguise the power of his frame. Snow plastered his back, but was chafed same untiring, rapid jog away by a shotgun that swung there, its muzzle ringed with two frozen doughnuts. Half an hour later he swerved from this bee line, A | Melting snow on the lashes fringed his dark brown eyes; through moisture as of tear him, clean swey ‘ the eal i tl ey looked out, steady, thoughtful, young and very bright. His cheeks glowed to skirt the left-hand marg but when Nallway ! Once he halted and turned impulsively to face the wind. The white rabbit hanging On the opposite rim of the e appeared anothe at his waist had its fur immediately blown into ruffled partings. resembled the butt of a sma “gz; at se d glance, a “Lord, forgot again!” said the hunter angrily. ‘ ‘Thought he was followin’ me. Never clod of earth no more.” Salem turned and went quickly toward it, I nowsh He peered for a moment into the snow. It oe ked his face like needles. Yet the green gla range of his vision over the lake had widened, for these flying wraiths began to lose It was, or had been, a mar he he houlders ar their whiteness. The wind whistled in his gun barrel. There was also a hissing, gritty t hidden, as if he had pulled up a erlet. before sound that streamed by, a sound as of sifting, very faint, but notable, a change throughout away, had its right cheek frozen in, and a v of the solitude. bandage.

} i f+ ; ‘ ‘ } f j f | | 4 ‘ \ i ited ‘ ’ j k t he the eft eye

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‘ THE SATURDAY EVENING POST hed on one knee, looked intently, then came took, it might have been thought, great body. The wind, as before, pro- tle in his gun barrel, and when he ) crouc ght again. He ot to touch thi ged a droning whis ‘ t wrenched the words out of his | ps. It's A Jeard.”’ ] lead m ’s face had nothir g of that dignity which granted. Even by what few features were C4” 1 it had a mean, wolfish look j parted as if to sneer, clung Pre Seer ; ' yr broker teeth tobacco tained, that looked all canine, Two } f snow, fine and coarse, had elted t isty-brown stiff hair, { ‘ the likeness, cruelly exact, t of old doormat lhe gy man’s face remained in itatle Ihe jor of health and f ‘ dar} ly flaming ild not alter. His eyes { they contained much yy e natural pity, but no 1 no surprise \\ A he said, “gue we're pays all off.” after a longer ‘ i] than before, again rose You're fast to the ice Ain't got t} wit} r Some pesky thief tand still in, time the young man waited n . weath r to it for a fellow creature com last it drove was chill rain. Not far ahead the end of re, keeping his a Vhen at he went forward } e sleet as dissolving into visible, a cove where were marked off only ving with a clump of willow long white slant of a ago darkening the cove, stood snowbanks, and witches or the iried ve these, ill padded white on the windward green and shadow black on the pine trunk fallen years Above their jagged points, w hills advanced through the ieparting sleet, some dark evergreen, the hare rock too steep for snow ling on —~a grayness, lined vertically with threads of white birch Midway in Salem climbed i ore, pausing at a hole chopped in the cove ind a stake on which hung a lack tin can upside down. He broke hole, filled the can, traight toward the deepest Here, muffled the new ice in the the fir wail. with snow, hidden like an animal by ts markit a cabin crouched among he bough He passed round this and tered a small clear ng behind At the back of the clearing a fire ) ed low under an iron pot. It had een a large fire, for up the nearest white wall reached an evergreen band where snow had melted from fir tips, and ind its embe a wide ring last year’s woodland carpet av b d yellow grass, leather-brown brakes, the dark t gh f old checkerberry leaves, and one bright green pray of 1 ‘ Smoke still mounted into the a le, and the rim of the pot lid steamed. om a lean-to behind his cabin, em gathered his fallen fire and made it high again. Bringing dry wood fr Like to ketch the thief,” he told himself, ‘that moseyed ff wit! ax ’ While the fresh blaze was growing he laid his mittens on t pot, removed from his gun barrel the frozen dough its, placed them to thaw beside the mittens and set some wiliow-bark tea brewing in the tin can. He worked with » used time thriftily but had no need 1-to, where he hung under cover his bbit, he brought an oblong bit of pine me old crooked hand-wrought nails, a | i hoe, a shovel, a corner of broken iron fragment of sled runner. This fire. Then, taking off snowshoes, he it on one beneath a bough, arranged the other as a table or wo neh, and so, warmed by the fire, sheltered from the mist, continued quietly busy Go down to Corp’ration House, ought to, and tell ’em ibout Asy Beard With the broken glass he smoothed ne surface of the pine board, ‘‘’Tain’t right to leave him layin’ out there. But no good my tellin’ ’em after dark. Better start to-morrow daylight in the mornin’, git there , then keep on down to Middle Landin’ store. journey of two arrants.”’ é arly fore noon Make Having smoothed the board Salem turned to his noon- was lean fare, nothing but willow-bark tea one meal, It uay and the pair of moist, lukewarm doughnuts. He ate and drank like a stoic whose thoughts went elsewhere. “*Le’s see what we want to the store—besides a ax. Tea’s give out, tobacco’s give out. Matches, and maybe a little sugar.” He soon fell to work again. With the board gripped flat between his knees he drew from the heart of the fire his broken sled runner. Its point glowed orange red, starred “You Can't Tell Me Nothin’ About the Rod,"* He Answered Graffly. “Iles a Three-Cornered Whatebon’ Pickted in Brine, and Laid on Hit or Miss"' with tiny bright sparks that vanished. Round its cooler end he wrapped a wet mitten. It made an awkward tool, all weight and no balance; but in Salem’s thin hands it quivered no more than a pencil. With rapid sure- ness of touch, unhindered by the smoke curling thickly upward, he wrote or printed across the board. His lettering was neat, his alignment true: SACKAMORE brown Delaforce laid his branding iron down, blew off the charred powder and shook his head. “*Can’t even spell,”” he grumbled. ‘ Prob'ly ain’t right I don't know nothing. . He nailed the board to the stake, put it aside with his tools, brought out from one pocket an old cheap wooden pipe, from another some dried willow bark mixed with sweet fern and, composing himself cross-legged, took a meditative smoke. He had not rested since daybreak. Even now he was only waiting for the fire to burn low again; and by the time his second pipeful went out he waited no longer, but, impatiently rising, lifted the iron pot away, grasped his hoe and began to tear down the fire. “Git it over with.” He dug fiercely, scattering brands and coals that hissed as they turned black and bedded themselves in snow. Under the ashes appeared a shallow trench, its floor and walls of half-thawed mud. Salem cut them deeper and wider, until his hoe sliced through glassy honeycomb, the crystals of the frost. He then poured in scalding water from the pot, waited and, after the steam had cleared from January 28,1922 a new depth of mud, began hoeing again. This process he repeated many times. When the pot was empty and the hoe could fetch out no more chips of frozen earth he drove the stake in upright at the far end of the hole, so that board and legend stood facing him, level with the ground. “Have to do. Deep as I can manage.” He waded among the trees, and with a knife slashed off an armful of small fir branches. Carrying them the young man would have had a Christmaslike air but for the steady Indian sadness of his eyes. ‘Better for him than bare ground.” He lined the pit carefully with the Christmas greens, placing and replac- ing them till every tip lay in order. “There.” His next action was to clear away tools, all but the shovel. Having done this he went round to the door of the cabin. **Can’t hardly bear to go i: Salem wiped his snowshoes cleaner than usual, grasping at any means of delay. It was with reluctance, visible effort, that he opened the door and en- tered. His dwelling, one room sheathed with black paper, and very dark by contrast even with the subdued, rainy light of the woods, contained a stove a bunk, table and chairs, a cupboard tiers of stove wood against the wall and along the rafters a few clothes, household goods and pelts of fur. Salem hung his snowshoes by the foot holes on a nail in the black paper. He stood for a moment irreso- lute. Across the room in his lay something covered with a blanket, like a child hiding and keeping still. As though it were a child Delaforce lifted and carried this bundle outdoors. What he unwrapped and lowered into the evergreen grave was the body ofa white bull terrier. He was very in laying the firs over it, but swift in putting back the clotted earth. “You was a good friend. None bet ter.”’ He rose to look at the board and hi dog’s name. “TI won't never forget you.” Hi face was hard while he spoke, but not his eyes. “‘Part o’ the best days o’ my life buried with you.”’ The rain had ceased when darkness came that night, and with darkness a still and bitter frost creeping to the heart of the woods. No air stirred Even the dry leaves of a young beech ” spare small bunk slow near the cabin that since last autumr had waggled and whispered foolishly in lesser silences were dumb. Salem, eating a late supper by the light of a candle end, now heard the fire snap cheerfully in the stove behind him, now listened to trees groan far off, to noise harsh and brittle as the breaking of a file There were left in his plate some bones of the had brought home. Without thinking Salem took one of these round behind his chair. “*Here you are,” he said. The stillness recalled him. He looked down, saw the empty floor, dashed the bone furiously from his hand and, turning, blew out the candle. Frost veiled the bottom of each windowpane, but left at the top a curved space clear. Cold stars glittered above the whiteness where his enemy lay. They could not throw unwelcome light into this room from which his friend had zone, or know that he saw them as crosses. rabbit he and held it um ELL filled with hardwood, the stove always kept its fire going for two hours. A light sleeper, Salem had formed the habit of rousing before the room grew cold, so that his night was broken at regular intervals. From deep slumber he came quietly awake, each time to find a bed of coals glowing like orange-red flowers, to cover them with kindling, split birch and round maple, to glance at the starlight for signs of weather, and to be next moment in his bunk asleep for two hours more. Dawn found him on foot, beginning his day. The frost no longer murmured or groaned without. A gentle clash- ing and crackle seemed to fill the obscurity. On every windowpane the little hill-and-valley landscape of frost work had thickened with furry whiteness during the night, but left near its top a loophole of melting glaze through which the outdoor world shone as a mist of intense pale

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blue. This color and the strange airy clashing pervaded all things like a wonder that longed to be unde Salem was aware of it. He knew the sound, he quality of the light. “*Lon’some mornin’s without you, said. ‘‘Maybe Duster Whiteneck’s |] of yours, to town. I'll haf to see Duster. along my black-cat skin.” For breakfast he had warmed over with hardtack sopped in felt the what was left of the rabbit stew t gra ANG willow tea; no meal to linger over. The sun had not riser when he stepped outdoors, though all the mysterious pale blue Vapor was gone, and the clear easte | brignte £ From the cabin eaves a row of new icicles hung, broad and short, in the Saxon-tooth patter? ‘Crust’ll hold. Don’t need ye Talking tl | snowshoes he lung them with his gun on! Da May though, comin’ home.” Over his breast like a magnificent boa he carried some furs—two of mink, one o , and one, somewhat like sable, which he called |} t n, the rare and beautiful fur of a fisher would have mired the curing. Salem betrayed no pride, but ted the and smoothed the hair Each had beet rt « ! through the head by a man who de pised tra} He shouldered two long fagotlike bundle of split hoop pe les, cast a look at the cabin to see all tight, and t briskly il,as he had predicted. Everywhere below The footi: g held, the trees undulated a surface glimmering with dull polis} > that of cake. Now unde 4 his le avi! on the icing moccasin boots, iw a wide shallow depre powdery sion, where Snow bur I upward al plates of crust; but this happened seldom, for he went with a prac ticed, glidir g step, as clean and ti the Between the firs lea a skater an abandoned logging unbroken, flowed like a \ hite brook, It brought I id denly out upon Lambkill Heath while the sun was cl ' the evergreen tops ‘Gorry, but she’s handsome!”’ thought Sale: The heath, its buried tufts wavy with bluish hollows and white mounds, dazzled him as the early sunshine poured across. But this was nothing to the glory that ringe far and near. A crystal forest shone with twinkling Young birche their boughs drooped like weeping willow, caught the fu mapies and poplat blaze of morning sun in a network brighter than jewe Whenever a breath of wind stirred, the twig f thousand glass pendants, clattered faintly, 1 passing luster that ed along the top force did not stop to admire. He felt an exaltatior waves on his but this when he 1ong hadow traveling with no journey; Was gone saw his drawn rt ne, g's trotting i a shadow after on he had known more thar thaw; and though in the middle of the ! h he paused, ieath only to the snow; one silver il was ten Through the crackling bright the chanted forest he heard asound. It came from be hind perhaps than a mile but clear in ness of en- him, more away air the winter the ringing of a bell, a little bell mellow jangled slowly in broken rhythm, as if by an uncertain but persevering hand. **A sled comin’ down lake,’’ thought Salem. ‘Pity the shanks with a tone, “a, THE SATURDAY EVENING POST } t single notes the bell stopped ringing With a few Salem waited, but heard it no longer and started on las Ring ing or silent, it did not mean much to him at the time His track, the disused logging road, began once more h and curved through the brillis wood where every twig hung dow across the hea 1toend ina of icicle. From this he plunged into evergreen darkne which continued for an hour or more. Once the smo white ribbon of crust was broken; something heavy ha wallowed acro t to go smashing n thr ugh the fir ar Salem, who knew this damage for the work of a bear dropped his merchandise, unslung his gun, crawled among houghs and loosened snow, jumped up, and ran like a Indian alor gz the eage of the bear’s trach Not so fresh a it looked, after two miles of hot pursuit it vanished among rock Wit! , salem returned I naked crags and horsebacks + | out look or swept quietly to take up his furs and hoop poles again he came down Rum-Time H Here his old forgotten road joined a The sun was high when toward the flowage tream that wandered away from the lake. Ice had now melted from the trees, their land shining departed so that under little promontory shadows a lilac mist of alder followed the crook ot the ‘ } , a tawny mist of willows flowage, which revealed itse here as black ice, there a thin curved patches of crust “Gained on me.” Salem halted, and listened The little mellow bell was ingling once more LOW not far upstream. Once more it made fitful music in the Nitude, as il rung by an uncertain but persevering hand »wledge of how that hand could per how, to some book-learned perso! t might have seeme the hand of a blind goddess who comes at her own pace everywoere By « alternoon he ighted ¢ orporation He e®,agra cabin, relic of other days, that lingered, not ye in a frozen marsh. From its chimney smoke wen points on a sky of more thar mbed the bank, tossed his long wked at the door and put hi room that he ing past frayed hackmatack midsummer blue. Salem cl down, kr aw, gloon t yne square Window in the opposite gable It smelled of 1y mattresse 1 of et " it ty } ' And so the old ma d ed a la voice fro where the the 1 feller he ickles t pipe i he jua | C} » em dow Da t all, where dry cat-tails whispered and shivered me i bie ised \ gazed at the t 1 ind ew’ moking, each on the end of a y betwee them Ha Sale uid one. He a t i Wi Sale Delf Tha the i A disguise of aye A f eal eered a i H lyeg ere ile I t King t / The fi tre ed ‘ irda i x ‘ i i 4 ed ‘ é Hal "7 ed ! id mar ha eemed flicke , betwee idiled ‘ ‘ i e ha W ‘ ‘ ale é ered t 1 i his pipe tare; T I Who did Id “ I hand t ‘ ‘ \\ va \ I i adeu \ r t the lake, | é '') Didn't have ‘ ence greeted ‘ went wa ‘ } hua ha it I tne ta i i rhat’s ¢ t I ‘ ult gia ed ! a | a tha Wha g t Y rand A I nt we d tla i AndA vent ! } ‘ Prappe I ¢ A nted i t — | of any poor hoss, rustin’ it.” Of a Sudden Satem Vaulited the Rail Before Him, Caught Up Sagamore's Collar and Threw it Over the Heads of the Crowd Continued Page on

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N MODERN times the theater has claimed for itself the same degree of freedom in presenting its ideas that is given to the pulpit and the press [t resents anything that savors of censorship and ‘ to be let alone, and thus be the judge of its wn morality and sense of de- cency. As a matter of fact it has more liberty than is given to the press. Not afew plays and farces are prese: ted, the books of which newspaper would dare to print Managers of theaters and others in sympathy with them have in th respect, generally speaking, presented a united front. Among the producers of plays themselves tandard re garding the character of plays for there seems to be n« producing which any one of their associates would be condemned. The good standing of a manager among his colleagues does not eer to be in any wise endangered when he persistently produces ob- viously indecent, salacious, coarse and vulgar plays solely for the profit he can make out of them, although they must know that such conduct tends to bring theaters in general into disrepute and makes a rigid censor- hip ine vitable Actors and actresses, belonging to organizations or act- ing individually, seem to have no hesitancy in prostituting very considerable talent to the production of atrociously offensive, indecent and vulgar plays and farces. I must assume in defense of the stage that this is occasioned either lirectly by the attitude of the managers in general or by some rt of unwritten law which compels an actor or wtress to take any part assigned to him or her without regard to his own feelings or opinions with reference to the play itself or else be boycotted by the managers without iny support from his fellow artists. Otherwise it would be to me incomprehensible that a decent, clean-minded woman would consent to appear night after night in revolt- ing and disgusting scenes in which the family and the marital relation are especially rendered ridiculous and brought Into contempt No Experts Required — attitude is not puritanical, and people who say otherwise do so In most cases because certain classes take pride in being considered devilishly wicked and unconven- tional and not finicky, and aim to pass for what are called regular fellows, men of the world—bad world—and hence they smother their real opinions, if they have any, and go with a certain current, according to the circles in which they find themsel ver A great deal of misapprehension exists as to the law gov- erning such productions. Here is the section of the Penal Law of New York State under which complaints and pros- ecutions are had against these managers and all concerned in the production of such plays: ction 1140-a Any person who as owner, manager, di- rector or agent or in any other capacity prepares, advertises, give presents of participates in, any obscene, indece nt, im moral or impure drama, play, exhibition, show or entertain ment, whieh would tend to the corruption of the morals of youth or others, and every person aiding or abetting such act, ind every owner or lessee or manager of any garden, building, room, place or structure, who leases or lets the same or permits be used for the purposes of any such drama, play, exhibition, show or entertainment, knowingly, or who assents to the use of the sarne for any such purpose, shall be guilty of a misdemeanor. the same t« The words to be noted here are “in- decent,” “immoral” and “impure,” the indecency of plays of this character being declared by the law as tending to the cor- ruption of the morais of youth and others. This law has been a long time on the tatute books and has been construed by various decisions of the higher review- Ing courts For instance, the Appellate Division of the Supreme Court of New York thus declared the law in that respect: ‘A pan- tomime symbolical of the retiring of a husband and wife upon their wedding night, although unattended by improper language or actual exposure of the person, may be indictable as a public nuisance where it suggests indecency, excites im- pure imaginations and is calculated to corrupt publie moral: DECORATIONS Br THE SATURDAY EVENING POST By William McAdoo Chief City Magistrate of New York GUEFPNSEY Now when you say a thing is indecent, immoral or im- pure you are dealing with individual taste, temperement, character and environment. A great artist, for instance, of acknowledged genius, might paint a scene in itself re- volting, but with such masterful and compelling ability that it would evoke the enthusiasm of all artists and critical experts. They would say at once, “This is a work of genius; it is marvelous”; and they would go into details at great length as to its effectiveness in terms of art. They would glow with enthusiasm over the coloring, the shading, the drawing and all its other excellences, and pronounce it at once a masterpiece. Yet this picture, so painted, might be of a repellent scene and in every way indecent, so that it could not be exhibited to the general public, cer- tainly not placed in a public place for a promiscuous audi- ence of both sexes and all ages to gaze at, and would clearly com®é under a subsequent section of this law, relat- ing to pictures and photographs and the like. In the matter of plays in the theater, actors and actresses, managers, authors and professional critics are not the people whose judgment, in a legal way, is to deter- mine the character of the play. In fact, their opinion is not to be admitted as evidence under a decision of the highest court of this state, which says: ‘The question of obscenity or indecency is one falling within the range of ordinary intelligence, and so does not require an expert to deter- mine, and his testimony is incompetent. “On the trial day of a case of this kind defendant called as a witness an artist and asked him if there was a dis- tinguishing line, as understood by artists, between pure and obscene and indecent art. This was objected tu and excluded. Held no error If the question was in- tended simply to bring out the fact that pictures might be either decent or indecent, and that the canons of pure art would accept those” of one class and reject the others, it was properly rejected as an attempt to prove a self-evident proposition; if the question was intended to be followed by proof that according to the artist’s standard the photo- graphs in question were not obscene or indecent it was properly rejected, as such evidence was incompetent.” In other words, the question whether a play is obscene, indecent, immoral or impure is one that must be deier- mined by the ordinary intelligence of commonplace people; MOORE January 28,1922 in this city, in the first instance, by the magistrates having regard to the testimony of ordinary every- day people, police and others; or by three justices of the Court of Special Sessions, or by a jury in the Court of General Sessions, impaneled in the usual way. That is where the question of fact belongs and is to be de- termined. In England—between which and the law of this state I will later on make comparison—when Mr. Chesterton was on the stand before a joint committee of par- liament, he objected to the one man as censor, and said he pre- ferred a jury to the judge. To quote exactly from the record this is what he said: “It seems to me that if you have one ordinary man judging it is not his ordinariness that appears, but it is his extraor- dinariness that appears. Take anybody you like—George III, for instance. I suppose that George III was a pretty ordinary man in one sense. People called him Farmer George. He was very like alarge number of other people, but when he was alone in his position things appeared in him that were not ordinary that he was a German, that he was mad, and various other facts. Therefore, speaking broadly, I wouldn’t take George III’s opinions, but I would take the opinion of twelve George III’s on any question. So I am in favor of transferring the licensing authority to some county council or similar assembly. I know the objections to it. I know it will be said that the twelve George III’s are just as ventional as the one George III; but that is not the point The twelve are not Germans and are not mad, the twelve have not that particular idiosyncrasy which belongs to the one man when he is a despot. That is my first proposition, therefore, that I am strongly in favor of transferring the power of censorship to some kind of elective assembly.” And later on: -“‘I will take my chance with a democratic censorship, knowing at least the absurdities of Jones will be balanced by the absurdities of Smith.” con- Play Censorship in England hs HAS fallen to me officially to pass on a great many plays and performances, both as police commissioner and in my present office, for the reason that the police bring their complaints to this office. To understand how this works it will be well to glance at the law of this state and that of Great Britain, where there is an established censor- ship about which there is, in this country, at least, a great deal of misunderstanding. The first law with regard to the presentation of plays and performances in England was passed in 1737 when Walpole was Premier. Critics of the censorship in that country attribute the act to the personal feelings of the Prime Minister, because there was a play which held him and his party up to ridicule, and which at that time was being presented on the stage. They assert that the act had no foundation but the personal and political bitterness of the Premier. The present law, which now governs all plays in Great Britain, was passed in 1843, and it is interesting to note the difference between that and the language of our statute. The Lord Chamberlain by that act was made the official censor, to whom ail plays must be submitted in writing and a license given, before they can be produced on the stage. The play was judged solely by the book, and not, as in this state, by the performance and the book. It is interesting to note the differ- ence in the language between this act and our statute. The Lord Chamberlain’s powers are contained in these words: “He shall have the right to prohibit the per- formance of any play whenever in the opinion of the Lord Chamberlain it is necessary for the preservation of good manners and decorum, or of the public peace.”” The word “manners” here takes the place of ‘‘morals,”’ and “decorum” of “decency,” and the words “or of the public peace”’ are very significant, and have been far-reaching in their effect upon the English stage. It is an unwritten rule of the English censor not to license or permit any play which might possibly give offense to a ——

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foreign nation with which Great Britain is at peace, or to hold up any living person to ridicule or con tempt, or where the characters are taken from the Bible, although some exceptions have been made to the latter in exhibitions allowed. Whenever an author has written a play in England he must send a copy signed by the manager of the theater where it is proposed to produce it to the Lord Chamberlain as official censor. Practically it goes to an official called the examiner, who has a life tenure of a salaried office. It is his business to read all plays, of whatever character, and either to license or reject them. No appeal can be taken from a rejection, but rejections are very rare, pos- sibly half a dozen, say, out of seven thousand plays submitted. But one reason for this is that authors knowing that certain classes of plays would not pass the censor do not write them. Leading authors in Great Britain contend that this has cramped the national genius, and that therefore the stage in dealing with serious subjects is much inferior to that of the Continent. The ex- aminer, according to his evidence before the joint com- mittee of Parliament, is a very conservative, conventional and perfunctory sort of official. When he comes to a play which seems seriously to offend, he acquaints the Lord Chamberlain with the situation, who in turn has a volunteer committee of eminent citizens whom he consults as a sort of jury. These include one or two playwright managers. After the play is once licensed it has immunity from local objections; as, for instance, a play which had been licensed in London by the censor might be considered as destructive of good manners and decorum or endangering the public peace by the local authorities in Dublin or Edinburgh or Manchester, but the local theater manager is protected by the censor’s permit to a ve ry large extent that is, against prosecution such as might be had in this state; but he is not immune from a revocation of his license by the licensing power of the locality. This power, however, is seldom if ever exercised as against a play licensed by the censor. As a result of this law the man agers of theaters in England are strongly in favor of the censorship as it exists in direct opposition to the au- thors and writers. Some Technical Distinctions N 1909, when the recurrent opposition of writers of Great Britain was heard before a very distinguished joint committee of both Houses of Parliament, some seven thousand questions were asked and answered by officials, managers, playwrights and writers of universal reputation, and it was quite interesting to read that Bernard Shaw, whose play Mrs. Warren’s Profession I took part as police commissioner in suppressing on its first appearance here in New York, proclaimed himself as a conscientiously im- moral writer. The play was not allowed production in England. He said in answer to a question: ‘‘ You will understand that there are plays which may be conscientiously im- moral, and views which may be conscientiously moral. For instance, if I may say so, Lord Gorell’s views with respect to divorce and county courts are immoral and are shocking to the Archbishop of Canterbury, and are shocking to Lord Halsbury; but they are evidently conscientiously immoral and in bringing them forward Lord Gorell is doing a very high public service, in my opinion. Now, with respect to myself, as an immoral writer I need hardly say that I claim to be a conscientiously immoral writer I lay great stress on the distinction in the use of the word, because I would re- mind the committee that from one end of the Bible to the other the words ‘moral’ and ‘immoral’ are not used. They are not used it the plays of Shakspere, and at the time that the 1843 Act was passed I believe that any person using the words ‘morality’ and ‘immoral ity’ as being synonymous with ‘righteousness’ and ‘sin’ was very strongly suspected of being a rationalist and probably an athe- ist. I can myself remember the time when that was the ordinary use of the words.” Commenting on this Mr. John Palmer, in his book The Censor and the Theatres, says: “ Mr. Shaw’s root distinction be- tween immorality and inde- cency is illustrated in the lives of Shelley and Lord Byron. Shelley was an im- moral man. He didn’t ac- cept the current morality of THE SATURDAY EVENING POST

other hand was indecent. He did not meddle with the current morality of his time. He hoped and believed he was one of the wickedest men of his time. Shelley was hated for his principles, and Lord Byron loved for his infirmities. If Byron had taken the trouble to conceal his profound contempt and hatred of the English people he might have lived and died at peace with his time and in the full odor of public approval.” In connection with the present condition of the stage in New York, the views of the Bishop of Southwark, who proclaimed himself as very zealous for the dignity and status of the stage and desirous for its liberty, in dealing seriously with serious subjects, said: “I think that one of the great dangers of the stage is the danger of triviality and shallowness, of its being thought that, being only a recrea tion and so on, it does not very much matter what is done. I should like to see the stage take what is, I think, its true historical part—a part which contributes a very great deal to the common life. I should look for control mainly to the sense of responsibility on the part of the stage and its leaders, and also to the public opinion.” As against this Mr. George Edwardes said: ‘‘The main object of the theater is to provide harmless entertainment brightness, gayety and amusement for the public.”’ Mr. Palmer, replying to this, says: ‘‘ The implications of this formula reduce one to a condition of impotent despair There is here the threadworn assumption that great art is the enemy of joy; that amusement, far from being the pleasure of the active man in the employment of his facul ties, is a sort of drug; that to be merry an audience must needs abandon intelligence, taste, imagination and com- mon sense at the door of the theater; that amusement is the natural antithesis of instruction or edification; that Beethoven is for solemn people cursed with the need to take their pleasures sadly; that the audience which roars with laughter at the man who loses his false teeth is neces sarily more susceptible to the influence of brightness and gayety than the man who roars with laughter at the thun dering entrance of the celebrated hand bag in which John Worthing was born and bred. One frequently hears the producer of the latest play who was ashamed of ii, or the author who knows that he has not quite successfully come off, describe it as at any rate a good play for a tired man A tremendously fresh and energetic man, just back from the holidays, might conceivably refuse to laugh at anything short of Shakspere or Synge. The same man at the end of his year’s work-- jaded, hopeless, bankrupt of physical or

mental stock—would jump at the opportunity of aughing at anything at all All, in fact, that he requires is the ‘brightness and gayety’ of the Blu Moon or the Green Cheese.” It to be noted that Mr. Shaw draws a very wide and deep distinction between the play wit immoral and indecent situations, as conventionall understood, and earnest, seriou evere and bitts attacks upon convention il morality a hown in |} own plays. No one can be more bitter than he describing the former class of plays and farce He considers these really immoral and indecent productions, because they tend to make a joke of questions of serious and deadly import, and in neat | vulgar and insulting ordinary intelligence, and absolutely lacking in wit ind humor as those tern ire understood among all cases they are coarse anc intelligent and cultivated people I must say that having passed officially upon one of Mr. Shaw’s plays and some of the fares be ing presented on the tage here in New Yor

I am inclined to agree with him. I certainly do not consider that Mrs. Warren’s Profs mn would in the aame degree tend to the corr iption of the manners of youth or others, in the lang lage < {f the tatute a the gro l indecent disrobings and exhibitior f nudity in bedreon stables and studios that from time to time under certain management are displayed on the stage in this city It is the book of the play, as I said, whiel } land, so that authors have frequent contended that that should also apply to the press, and that bool hould not be allowed to be printed until they have been licensed and permitted. Mr. Cl

tert with I lal wit, would not agree to this propositi egarding book He id if you find that the bool ndecent, disgusting or offensive you can throw it away, into the dust bin’’—as he said he did with nearly all modern boo! l'o which may be added But if you find yourself ir he theat« 4 ed 1 a center seat, where the exits are small, you have to ret

tortured by the spoken, and gnacte 1 play, which may be equally offensive with the book; you can throw the bool away, but you dislike to make a scene in the theater or tramp on people’s toes in getting out as fast as you ean and away from the obtrusive indecency of the stage The Censorship Defended MONG the well-known writers who either appeared ot from whem letters were received by the committes were the following: Mr. Galsworthy, Mr. Thomas Hardy Mr. Henry James, Mr. H. G. Wells, Mr. Zangwill, Mr Arnold Bennett, Mr. Joseph Conrad, Mr. Maurice Hewlett ““Mr. Shaw appeared before the committee as a militant puritan to whom the West End commercial theater definitely the gate of hell He hates the aphrodisiac play as determinedly as the seventeenth-cent iry Prynn nated plays of every rt and size Vide Mr. Palmer How the censorship protects the authors and manager is shown by the statement of Mr. Charles Hawtrey

‘ . ducer of the play called Poor Old Charlie, which had bee: adversely commented on by many people in England. He was in favor of the censorship and said: “Abolish the censorship the consequence in only be injurious t the theater at large he step would mean immediate and

materia! diminution in the attendance of young people. It

would mean a stricter irveilance on the part of theu elder vt would rig! and perly hesitate to take ther 4 pe rmance t ! ! aut! itative g r ' fur hed I the j e cf ) li i Loe ed i guarant ind 1 cre e atte i t { 1 ung people ‘ ¢ | eR! } ly , } i ! inageriai vi enta t ti ite the r i mucl re Englist ne i th I eding with refers the main that 1 e auth in Great rita that that the pla first pr duced and ther ad the té ta ; whet! I es the law ir law re a magistrats 1! 5 es i I a —_ uv e te ex! t re wr cl ure ue | ! ral i i ene But i i ‘ he { t J er ide j » ! ne ‘ i

his time with respect to mar- riage. Lord Byron on the

(Continued on Page 44

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OU know the thing they say about your never being able to tell what a new day will bring forth. Though it is as time-worn as the quaintest of our xims, still it has a certain commercial value, even in Ask the insur- nee agent about it. He'll say e present era THE SATURDAY EVENING POST By J. P. Marquand ILLUSTRATED BY HUBERT MATHIEU January 28,1922 “Eat ’em,” replied Louise, carefully imitating his slow ” speech, “is hardly the word. They gobble ’em. He loved to do things by exaggerations, just as he loved to think in extremes, and now William made an exaggerated gesture of horri- fied repulsion. Ask the men ell the automatie sprin- revolver that any one in use, or the nonskid tire ngs the bell hair They know the old m has a punch that shakes the change from father’s pock- ets. They know what the fear of the unknown can do if you llustrate it with a good picture and put a few well-chosen words beneath. But, after all, what does it unount to when you examine it with reason and detachment? After all, it’s just publicity tuff, aimed to frighten those of ue who read it in the Subway rush hour. Sinking to sporting pi rlance, it’s dollars to dough- nuts that to-morrow will be just the same as yesterday, and to- day a perfect replica of to- morrow If we all feel this most of the time, can we blame Wiiliam Jenks, of the Hans Andersen Advertising Agency, for feeling o too? Even before Fame placed her golden wreath upon his brow and made him a figure i the world of big ideas he was nical young man. Besides, had spent days writing just 4 No wonder believed that each to-morrow vas a yesterday. When his alarm clock heralded the morning that hook the frail bark of his for- tunes it seerned exactly like any other morning. The April sun was stealing through the win- dow of his rectangular room, which his landlady had adver- it sort of thing tised as square. It made the pattern on the wali paper look unusually harsh and serpentine, ind made the colored print over ihe marble mantel, the one of the little girl playing with the dove, still less like a work of art than it had appeared the previ- “Oh, my Lord!” he said. “Oh, my Lord! It hurts me just toseethem. Eating éclairs and powdering their noses at the breakfast table. Can you beat it?” Yes, he loved to live among exaggerations, perhaps because his life was so commonplace, and because he craved excite- ment. Now as he sat looking at them a new light came into his eyes, the light of sudden and vital thought, the light of a big idea, and though thousands of others had had the same idea it still struck him as a novelty “That's it!’’ he said excit edly. ‘‘That’s it! I’ve got it now. I know what’s the trouble with thistown—women. That’s it—women! By Christmas, they’re pushing men into a cor- ner. They've got the world by the tail, and they’re tying a rib bon onit. Apinkribbon! You can’t get away from’em,. That’ the trouble. They're all over the place—stopping in the mid dle of the streets, blocking the traffic, walking on the wrong side of the sidewalk, changing the restaurants into candy stores—getting in your way at the office. All this moderr freedom stuff—that’s the trouble with this town!” “Say,” said Louise, ‘“‘ what biting you this morning?” He sighed, raised his coffee to his lips, and once again he was the young man in the great city “Same old stuff,” said Wil liam. ‘‘Same old stuff.” And then he was sorry he had said it. “It isn’t the same old stuff!’ Louise cried. “I made it for you special!” For a moment he felt some- thing like a lump in his throat It had been a long time since anyone had done anything spe- ous evening. It showed him the table in the middle of the room, littered with a week’s accumu- lation of magazines, newspapers and matches, and his How Could trunk in the corner with its pile of books. For a few sec onds William Jenks listened to the alarm clock with half closed eyes, and then a faint smile lightened his long thin face, and he performed his first morning task. Still lying, staring straight before him, he stretched out his left arm to the little table where the clock was still performing, and grasped the battered timepiece in his long fingers. Then raising the clock above his head he hurled it at the picture of the girl and the dove. There was a thud and a voice of silence as the bell ceased its ringing. “* Missed it again,’’ he murmured ina low, sardonie voice. Slowly he rolled to the side of his bed and stepped list- leasly to the floor, and stood for a while looking straight before him. Finally he walked to the door of his room, opened it a crack and peered into the hall. “Damn it!” he murmured again. ‘Same old stuff. ymehbody's always in the bathroom.” Twenty -minutes later at the little restaurant at the rner he wore the same sardonic smile, but his eyes were vide open and gave him a certain alertness despite his leliberate walk. He passed calmly down the aisles of orcelain-topped tables, seemingly oblivious of the clatter of china and of the strange words shouted into the kitchen beyond. It was just like any other morning. There were the girls who worked in the broker’s office downtown, eating their chocolate éclairs and examining themselves n the mirror beside them. There was the man who sold nsurance, in a clean stiff collar, eating hastily and glancing idly at his newspaper; and there was the girl who a Girt Like That Cope With the Wortd, a Girl Who Wore Ruffles Around Her Wrist and Put Fudge in a Shoe Box? worked on a fashion magazine. With hardly a glance at them William Jenks strode to a little table in the corner. There was Louise, who had given him his food for two winters, smiling her morning greeting; and William smiled also, more pleasantly than he had before. “Same old stuff, Louise,’’ he said. ‘‘Same old stuff, and hurry it along.” “‘Ain’t you sarcastic now?” said Louise. ‘Don’t you never lay off?” R Again William smiled tolerantly and shook his head. Sarcastic,’ he replied wearily, ‘“‘is hardly the word.” He waved his hand, displaying something of the irre- sistible boredom of the man of the world to whom life seems a trivial affair. “Cynical, Louise. That’s me—cynical. No joie de vivre. Get me my coffee, Louise. Get it quick. I must have some sort of artificial stimulation.” When she returned with his coffee his manner aroused in her a new interest. He was rubbing his chin nervously and staring across the table toward the end of the room at the girls who worked at the broker’s office. His studied boredom seemed to have left him. He was sitting up quite straight and examining them with the curiosity he might have displayed toward some new picture in the gallery of his experience. For a fleeting instant he had awakened and had thrown off his morning lethargy. Momentarily even the coffee at his elbow stood unnoticed. “Look here!"’ he-asked quickly. ‘‘Do those girls eat those cold éclairs every morning?” cial for him, such a long time that the thought of it was al- most a shock, “That's the trouble with women,” he said awkwardly. “They always take things personally. Here. Here’s a present for you.” He reached into the pocket of his tweed coat, and drew out a small oblong package. “Gee!” she cried. “It’s soap! Say, what’s the big idea?” “Soap,” said William, ‘‘is hardly the word. It’s Lath- erol; not soap, but a new food cleanser for the skin. They gave it to me at the office yesterday, and I thought you'd like it.” “‘Say,’’ said Louise more gently, “‘you’re a funny guy!” Surely there was small reason for him to suspect his life was changing. He entered the Subway at exactly the proper time. Slowly and thoughtfully he made his way through the pack of hurrying humanity, and past the windows where the small change flew like hail, and gravely he wedged himself into the downtown express. It was like him to play with an idea, for he had always done so, even in the days when he sat behind his desk at school. Perhaps in a quieter age he might have been a philosopher, for even as a young man William Jenks was thoughtful, and prone to reason out causes and effects. Up at the Hans Andersen they said he had a mind, and perhaps they were right. At any rate he had a power for visualizing facts and forces, and what was more he had an enthusiasm for his thoughts; and now he was thinking about women and their new place in modern life. Yes, the Subway was full of them. He had never noticed so many before. Every day more and more were coming , ° 4 A) h 1 ; { { } if i: 4 ) ' i , | \ ‘ {{ qi y .)

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downtown, bearing the same set, determined look as the men, the tired, penetrating look of the seeker after money. It was a funny thing, a thing that made him uncomfort- able. Twenty years ago there probably hadn’t been any of them at all, and now they were everywhere. Where did they come from? he wondered. where they used to? Why didn’t they stay With the conscientiousness of a successful young man he dropped the matter as he walked toward the copy writ- room at the Hans Andersen. As he passed through the office, people nodded to him and smiled ers’ There was something pleasant about his negligent ease and the care- He alone wore a unmindful his lessness of his dress. soft collar, and seemed whether hair was evenly brushed. Even in those days he was something of a privileged person. Had he not written the campaign for the non- burn brake lining, and the indestructible hair net, and the button that wouldn’t Yet with a pleasant grace. Sometimes it almost seemed as if he didn’t realize their value. Pleasantly aware that the day was beginning right, } aione come off? he bore his honors he entered the copy room and closed the ground-glass door. He halfway to his desk before d then he th: ; n-lipped and pale, who wrote the about the door of opportunity swinging open to the young man who clipped the coupon, was sitting on the edge of his pulling at his tie; he noticed anything » one had started worl stuff saw it 7 iarley Jones, tl i George Lewis, who always wore Unt a green eyeshade and chewed gum when he worked, was staring idly in front of him, twisting a little piece of paper and Ed Hardy, sallow and a little gray the temples, had failed to light his pipe, and instead was in his fingers; holding it limply in his fingers. When they saw him the glanced at one another archly. ‘Here he is,” said Charley. William tossed his newspaper on his desk ‘Well, suppose I am?” he said. ‘What's the atter with you birds? What are you grinning at? Grimm has h hasn't raised our pay, “You bet he hasn’t,”’ said Ed sourly, and began stuf his pipe with cut plug. “ Wait as long as I have, and you'll get over this optimistic stuff.” “Well,” said William, ‘“‘why all the merriment ther He stopped and glanced suspiciously about him. When office fe know till you've been here you have been in ar ir two years you get to people well enough to expect weaknesses of human nature, hich permits familiarity. Perhaps it was some little practical joke they were play- for instance. Something but he didn’t His and reach a basis of friendship w ing—chewing gum in his chair, funny must have happened, see it. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST eyebrows twisted in the curious, puzzled expression he often wore when he faced things he couldn’t understand “Well,” he said, “what is it?” “Something nice,”’ said George, pushing back his eye- shade. ‘Something you'll like. I'll say you'll like it.” William opened the top drawer of his desk and drew out his corncob pipe and a tobacco pouch. Next he started to remove his coat, for it was hot for an April morning “T wouldn’t do that,” said Ed more cheerfully. ‘She might not like it.” With his coat half off and sagging about his shoulders William turned to face him. ‘Look here ““She’s going to be tinued Ed. William still stood with his coat half depths of his amazement “*Look here,”” he t 2gar There was a moment's he began quickly. at the desk next yours,” again, “ t ( silence, and their grins grew broader. ““He means,” said George, tossing his piece of paper into the wastebasket, ‘that Grimm’s going to put a woman in the copy department—a woman copy That’ what he’s going to do.” “*But she isn’t going to be in here?” gasped William. “Yep,” said Ed, looking sadly at iling. “‘That’ Right here in this Right beside you at Tommy Rooney’s old place.” William and stared hin horror. The thing was almost unbelievable, so grotesque that he could hardly ‘Look at hi gracefully?” ““When’s she coming?” asked with a faint hope. writer, where room. groaned about him, mute witl u grasp it. said m.” *Oh,” said Charley, “probably in five m ite ne talking to Grimm now William sank down before his desk and st 1 hope lessly at his calendar. So, it had happened permanent wave of emancipated woman had even reached the fastness of the Hans Andersen copy roon was face to face with the phenomenon he had witnessed from afar. No wonder he and the rest of them were a little silent, a little appalled im \ ILLIAM, you see, knew all about womer Another modern Ulysses, he had voyaged past the siret isles, and his ears were sealed to blandishments and } eyes placidly and shrewdly open. He knew what it meant to have one of the fairer sex in the office. He knew so well a] aliarere se | eT SN IR oe ~ £m ss ce cineca tha evel aiter Mariar upset his une rring sense of at \ iil } it When Marianne appeared he wa rsed int on a piece of yellow paper. Imm«e tl of his thoughts he failed to look up whe opening of the door which heralded the « He still bent over his work, faintly amuse nis task and its appropriatens to the | him was a pencil sketch carefully draw: page in a popular magazine It depicts little childrer oh, so hay ! It w mple pleasure that seemed radiate th ing art To-day the picture 1 the walls of eemed to grin at him horrib! the me faces grinned; the girl with the breakfa and in the pencil sketch the children gr were romping and playing about a little empt ing ar ] composition ut there the he squar were ; nding over them yncentration ‘Let the kiddies if their dainty little din Inter ron written this? their Millions of mothers eve clean them They have of washing powder irface ‘ Jer ' came av its authorit Get our n 1 th wa let him overtax | mi Shake rudely from | from | wivel cha Grimm |! elf. Yes, t of the Ha Anderse But it wasn’t Marianne it was the alarming effe produced upon everyo explicable. Old Grimn of the land in which her advertisements he spor ome it until he gr ning na window spectacle There Was Nothing Left But to Sit Passively and Glare Savagely at His Companions 1) wert t Lo be placed Those w 1e We 1 ras were too manv w on eliminat é ro w he nave f 1 ta te ( yi ’ ar " vu, M

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10 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST January 28,1922 could see | profile The ght of four strong men so mplete inder a single fuence ¥ s shock from which he could imme diately re hen he | ed at Mari anne, put ti ne ildr { understand It e didn't feel that wa per ficial it t rate he didn't look like a busine vyoma In the first place e was t oung, muct too ng, and he looked iite f l in he horizor blue i entirely nfit for grue lays of toil. he looked ve slender and a little frightened as she tood beside old Grimm, st as though she sus nected the existence of an hand beneath the vel vet glove She was glan ng at him now, smiling a | tened littl * at d he eermed con 1 that her yellowish-red hair was king its way from under her little turbaned hat rhe very moment when he looked at him he knew there was something wrong, it later he knew what it wa She didn't belong at all in this harsh n, already full of the acrid fumes of to- hacco. There was nothing uit her that went with the seratched yellow-oak des} and the square metal vorkbaskets and the type- She belonged rather in the reception room where Grimm received his clients, where there was a pot of ivy on a bronze tand, and a Jacobean table ind an Oriental rug. Here than ri liculous, almost a pathetic he was little le There was something so disheartening in the prophecy that they sat for a while, gloomily silent. “Of course she'll let u smoke,’’ said Charley “She’s much too nice not to.”” But his words lacked their accustomed convi tion. “And there’s else too,”’ said William, and for almost the first time that morning his voice to ring with genuine feeling “I’m hanged if I see why you're so glad to have her here! You ought to know this isn’t the place for a girl like that. How do youthinl she’s going to stand this sort of thing? How do you think she’s going to like something seemed writing advertising copy with Grimm snooping; around? You know what it’s like. It isn’t ee 2 isn’t sportsmans her in this place. We ca stand it because we've a been kicked around. You have to be when you ear! your living in this tow: But do you thir she ce: stand it? You know she ean’t. It’s a shame, that what it is. The thing’s a shame Perhaps he was thinl then, perhaps they al thinking of the time whe they had started on the great adventure of gai: How different it had seemed before th« a livelihood days of disillusion and the shattering of hope s. hefore they became acclimat cheerless hall bedrooms and sordid meager meals, befor they noticed the tired face travesty All about the room he could feel a new undercurrent of thought. It was always the way when a woman entered the arena of toil. At once everything began to rest on a basis of hypoc risy, and everyone bowed to the shades of chivalry. “1 do hope I won't be in the way,” said Marianne. Even at the beginning he found himself smiling and aying things he never meant, for at the proper time and place William was a gallant young man “In the way!" he exclaimed with unnatural heartiness, “Why, of course not! What an idea!” And now, Jenks”—-old Grimm’s voice became brisk and businesslike-—“‘I gave you a cake of that Latherol soap last night.” ‘Latherol?” said William in slight confusion. ‘Oh, yes, of course.” Well,” said Mr. Grimm, “where is it? William's face looked a little moist. It seemed like a trivial matter, but he knew too well that little things like Old Grimm's lips 9 this were what broke men’s fortunes were pressed together, and his glance was suddenly hostile How had he happened to forget, even for a second, that a thing like that cake of soap was a deep and personal matter with old Grimm? “Come,” said Mr. Grimm, dangerously sweet, ‘where is it?” “IT gave it away,” said William very slowly, and his words seemed to pierce through threatening silence. Sud- ienly old Grimm loomed up like a Titan roused to righteous wrath. “So that’s all the respect you have for your work?” he began. ‘“‘You gave that cake of soap away, did you? You gave = But William had steered through many a stormy sea, ind now his mind worked as quickly as a trained dip- lomat’s. I gave it te a young lady to try,” he interrupted smoothly. “I understood you to say you were going to sell that soap to women, and that any advertising we did would be directed toward them. I wanted to see what this one thought of it, Mr. Grimm, because I have a high I thought opinion of her judgment her reaction might be valuable “Here are Some Sketches I Had Them Make in the Art Department, Telling Where Latherot Comes From —Patm Trees, Genial Breezes, the Tropics, and So On Then William became aware that another crisis was over and that he was sailing again in quiet water. Old Grimm was smiling again, and gently rubbing his hands. “Well, well,”” he said. ‘‘Weli, well. So you have got a little sense, after all, Jenks. Yes, almost a commercial instinct. And romance too! Romance and a cake of soap! Have you any other lady friends who would like to try some?” “No,” said William, “I can’t think of any.” “Well,” said old Grimm, ‘“‘that’s quite all right as long as you took it seriously. That's the main thing, Jenks, And now, Miss Wright, before you settle down to work let me show you the art department.” And a moment later he was bowing and holding the door of the copy room open, while Marianne walked slowly past him. There was a pause as the door closed, while they all stood looking at it except William, who sat down again before his desk. “Gosh!” breathed Charley. you forget home and mother.’ “She’s too good to be true,” said Ed; ‘that’s what ’ “Maybe she don’t make she is.’ “Well, I'll just say this,”’ said George. there was anybody ieft like her.”’ “Better not tell your wife so,”’ advised Charley kindly. William swung his chair about slowly, and his face seemed harder and more saturnine than ever. ‘You birds make me sick,”’ he said. ‘‘Don’t you see what's going to happen? You're all going to fall in love with her.” “Well,” said Charley, “what of it?” “That'll be a pretty mess, won't it?" continued William. “And that isn’t all. Not by a long way, it isn’t. Haven't you got any imagination? Don’t you see what she’s going to do?” “What is she going to do?”’ Ed inquired rather fiercely. “She'll put up curtains and things,” said William; ‘and sew on buttons for us; and—yes, she will—she’ll stop us smoking. A-ha! You didn’t think of that, did you?” “Nonsense !"’ ‘We've got to smoke. How can we write this stuff if we don’t?’ ‘T didn’t know said George. around them and the threadbare clothes. Y« they had all been kicked around more or less sines then, and if they had stood Perhaps h words made them forget for the moment the par that were pleasant, for when he finished speaking they all looked at him a little wearily. “Say, Bill,”’ said Ed quite kindly, “‘you’ve got th stuff in you when you’re shaken up a bit.” 3ut already William’s old tired smile was back on hi it the process had not been wholly pleasant lips. ‘You know better than that,” he said. ‘I’m a damned egotist. We're all damned egotists. What else can you be 4 when you earn your living? You’ve got to step pret lively these days.”’ “‘Haven’t you got any romance in you at all?” cried George. ‘“‘Haven't you got any imagination?”’ “Don’t,” said William. ‘You know enough not to start this romance-in-business talk. Don’t you think I've heard it before? Same old stuff, George; same old stuff.” And he turned again to the picture of the little romping children. ir HO knows? William might have got used to Mari- anne in time if Marianne had let him. For Marianne wasn’t very much in the way, after all. To his mild sur- prise he found that she actually knew how to write adver- tising copy, quickly, efficiently and without any fuss or worry. At first this struck him as vaguely strange, but he was not prone to meddle with others’ affairs; and besides, he knew that old Grimm always picked good copy writers, priding himself, indeed, on the skill of his selections. Now that she was established at the desk beside him he hardly gave her another look or thought, but concealed himself discreetly behind a cloud of malodorous tobacco smoke. In another day or so he might have got as used to Mari- anne as he had to the new hatrack in the corner if Mari- anne had only been different. But William knew too much about women to hope for the unusual. If Louise, at the restaurant, could not keep in the background, what could one expect of Marianne? The very second day after Marianne had come under the feudal sway of the Hans Andersen she began stopping William’s getting used to her; stopped him in such a way (Continued on Page 36) >

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SHUTTING T. N JUNE 3, 1921, the emergency immigra B r United State American relief orga tior nieuw oioenane teks By IK th L.Roberts i. nee t uw, which is known as the Three Per @imime e © @y US even Ar eri in churches developed a sudder Cent Law, went into effect, and for the first time in history the United States of America Officially began to display a faint trace of common sense ir the handling of the immigration problem. The Three Per Cent Law is operative from June 3, 1921, to June 30, 19 3ecause of the restrictions of the law the number liens who will enter the United States during these thirteen months will be held down to about 300,000.

Iropean a Three hundred thousand aliens are a great many thou sands in excess of the number of aliens that the United States needs or wishes. Three hundred thousand, it should be borne in mind, is no slouch of a number. It is equal to twelve army divisions; and one army division alone, as even a soft-boiled soldier knows, is twenty-seven and a half miles lor g If these 300,000 people were to be lined up eight abreast and marched briskly past a given point, they would occupy sixty consecutive hours, or two and a half days, in the passi1 Three hundred thousand, also, is ap nonulat y }

k proximately the total population of the large and flourishing cities of Springfield, Massachusetts, Salt Lake City, Utah, } d eye-filling number; but at the same time that number is a

and Spokane, Washington. It is a large, commodious a great improvement or the number that the United States would receive if the old free-handed, open-house, hooray- for-everybody, prewar immigration law were in force. If the United States were still in the wholesale imm grant business with the same vigor and enthusiasm that haracterized her immigration activities in 1907‘and 1914 and the dear dead years of that pe riod, the thirteen mont} between June 3, 1921, and June 30, 1922, would unque: tionably see 1,500,000 in migrants spewed into our midst

from every steamship that was capable of turning over her propeller without shaking out a peck of rivets at eacl revolution. By comparison with the number of imm grants that America might be getting, therefore, the ; - r that she is actually getting under the temporary

gs of great cheer.

The Three Per Cent Law NENERALLY speaking, this temporary Three Per Cent I Law is apretty good law. Itis pretty good because it cuts down the number of immigrants. It is an unscientific

nbers, and therefore it is good. law; but it cuts down the nt

It is no more adjusted to the needs of America than a pint of t peanuts is adjust I ed to assuaging the hunger of the blood weating behemoth of Holy Writ; it is no more fitted to deal with the immigration problem than a pair of sugar tongs is fitted to handle a barge load of cannel coal. But it gives America somewhat less of a bad thing than she was getting before it went into effect; and so the Three Per

’ preferable to any other immigration law that America ha ever put lr

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST

eighteen who are a mw tit t ive © ia : i as it affected t pe happened The Three Per Cent Law, when stripped to the bone the objects of their misguided sentimenta yrovides that the number of aliens of any nationality that ment. Wide circulatior ‘ idder given to ed ‘ nay be admitted to the United States in any fiscal year and news reports dealing the « treatment su shall be limited to 3 per cent of the number of foreign-bor posed accorded to immigrar | | 1 under the persons of such nationality resident in the United State new la as determined by the 1910 census Certain people d t The latter me od of stirring lig ‘ such people as fore gn government fT Three Per Cent I “ay { t cials and their families and employe $ alier n tra t ‘ nde! When, therefore, one er inter i ha through the United States; tourists; aliens from count tale of | i refined and set e immigrant be which have special immigration treaties with the United nervou reck through bart is treatment re it “who have lived for one year prior to their 1 ind one should t ea ‘ Canada, Newfoundland, Mexico, Central | it ind ha t to tl } South America; and aliens under the age of to remove the wee accumulat ft One of the children of American citizer In no most ha ng stories t ld to rea can more than 20 per cent of a country’s admi that of a Br ibject ‘ let ‘ ble quota of immigrants be admitted to the United State Ellis Island with } fe rt of actors, artists, lecturer nger wide circulatior England ther lergymen of any denomination, professors, men cases was made the | f t f t the learned professions or domestic servants. These British Government to t Am< ( ven though the mont or the vear’ migration authorities ar baby and ascal night and sweatec squealings from various portions of the er ! r tne that the oo t | ; refe » the new law as a he a. 1 large at f ; natcher 1 frequent ] awake tested , profusely over the difficulties wl Island. th iain : : one The anr ‘ P nd the squeal heg to to egun t ‘ a sweet, meliow ' j it first began to operate = ted imber of nerve-ra g ' oY f+} ye representatmes certain nations that were particular , an anxious to ship large nu ae , America emitted plaintive wails over the new law, claim olation « fsomet} ng. e toy nt out < on of nut the felt ire t { some rt l ind were i fa » we HOTEL th ON THE AMERICAN PLAN SEA GATES

exhausted International Friction law; but the shift f 1 the old law

é out , bers of their f -_ w' " Continued on gn¥ Page 51

| ARMS Conferenct YOu DONT NEE TO WATCH YOUR HAT AND COA

Page 14

12 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST THE HEAVIER PQVUIS is the yarn of two men anda dog. One of the men was Jamie Mackellar, a diminutive and mild d truck owner of Scotch descent The her man was Rufus G. Belden, arch- alist of the mighty young city of Midwestburg. The gy WAS a ‘ Jamie lived the shabbiest of Midwest rg iburbs. There in his cottage’s back yard was a One of e was Lochinvar B by, the giant collie whose show ig shed wherein reposed his two chief treasures had helped buy the second of the treasures —a fair e truck, the le meat of | comfortable livelihood. Incidental Jamie Na one of the t astute collie judges in America iH von for himself a repute for square ind for almost uncanny accuracy f judgment in the ring that made hi ‘ ces as judge in demand from Car ada to New Orleat In the interims hetwee shows he was a meekly polite ttle truckmar In the judg- £ g he was Rhadaman t the Te rrible and John Jay ea ( Rufus G. Belde 1 take Midwestburg and |} native tate by etorn ife had held the ip by the heels and had haken the cash and the vote out of their reluctant pocket At fifty he was countle mile away from his tenement origin, d stood forth as the richest influential f i? er polit i! 1 ni re Great was Rufus G., | greatly to be feared and wh ft he courted Happening upor 1 new sper sketch of J.P. Morgan’ iter days Rufus G found a | iragraph whic ‘ iused his dull little eyes to brighten with the inception of a genuine idea And he read the paragraph once more this time aloud Mr. Morgan's this period, was in the breed chief pleasure, ind exhibiting of high-quality ‘ His Cragsmere Kennels ere the home of some of the most renowned dogs of the ule. The Cragamere show benches, at Westminster and else where, were always surrounded by admiring crowds If Mr. Morgan had not already won his fame as a financier he might vell have built up a lasting reputation as America’s foremost collie breeder ‘America’s foremost collie breeder!" Rufus G. Belden rolled the phrase under his tongue with growing relish. To be America’s foremost anything-at-all was surely a pinnacle whereto a new-made multimillionaire And now Morgan was Apparently no financial overlord had succeeded him in the post he had created was vacant—-the pedestal of America’s foremost collie breeder, might crave to scramble. dead. collie realm Jelden was normal enough and enough of an outdoor man to love dogs and to have some smattering of understanding of them. Asa boy in the Midwestburg tenement district he nad had for a pet a mangy and lop-eared collie of many- Andin memory of his long-dead chum he angled ancestry. had always turned a kindly and more or less appraising eye mn such collies as he chanced to see in the street or on his visits to the Midwestburg Show. With true Napoleonic promptitude Rufus G. went into iction. And within a year he was ready to commence op erations on the mammoth seale he had planned. By that time he owned thirty collies, ten of them champions and rourteen of them imported, besides several supposedly promising litters of Teddy Bear pups. These were super- ed by a staff of costly experts under command of Perry Rtoke, a veteran kennel manager whom Belden had lured from his former employer by an unheard-of offer of five thousand dollars a year and expenses. The kennel press and sporting writers all over the cour try had taken up the tidings of Belden’s new fad, giving it nd him a gratify ing degree of notoriety. Ata by show or two, in that off season, his phalanx of imported cham pions had swept the field. Rufus G. was radiant. One morning three of these importations came back by erate from such a show, and Roke telephoned for a trucl , to bring them from the station to the Beldencroft Kennel; As the truck chugged down the drive toward the kenne ILLUSTRATED BY By Albert Payson Terhune CHARLES LIVINGSTON buildings greet the returning heroes He arrived at the inclosure just as his men were lifting the last of the three crates from the tonneau. The mild- eyed little truckman had dismounted from his high seat and was watching with eager interest the uncrating of the trio Belden would not have given a seco! d glar ce to the meek little fellow had not an action of Perry Roke'’s attracted his attention. The kennel manager was bossing the job of taking the three winners from their luxurious crates. As Roke approached one of these slatted boxes the little truckman was standing directly in Belden looked on in mild expectation to see the mar ager elbow the diminutive truckman aside or even, in an access of merriment, catch him by the slack of the trousers and toss him back on the motor’s seat. Roke did nothing of the sort. Instead he walked deferentially around Mac- kellar, ‘walked around him, like he was a lake,” as Rufus G. afterward ‘described it. And while Belden was still wondering whether or not this was a bit of absent-mindedness on the manager's part Roke turned from lifting a shaggy tricolor collie out of one of the crates and asked the truckman with genuine def- “How do you think his winter coat’s coming along, sir?” Jamie ran his fingers expertly through the pile of black fur and said briefly: ‘‘He’s still shy on undercoat.” Again Belden listened expectantly. He took real enjoy- ment in hearing Roke’s lurid blasphemy when an outsider ventured a criticism on any Beldencroft collie. But the redoubtable manager forbore now to swear or even to call the critic a wall-eyed liar. “Any time you'd care to go over the bunch,” gushed Roke with warm cordiality, “let me know; and it'll be a pleasure to show them to you. So long, judge!” Belden came forward, his fat face creased with bewil- derment, as Jamie and his truck departed. “Another minute and you'd have kissed him!” he observed in fine sarcasm Rufus G. himself strolled out to the yards to lis way. erence: “Is he your long-lost brother, January 28,1922 WEIGHT or does he just hold the clew to the billion-dollar forgery and your kidnapins of the old earl’s only child?”’ “That was little Jamie Mackellar sir,” replied Roke, as if this explaines everything fully. ‘“‘H’m!"’ mused Belder “From the way you kow towed to him I thought he might be the I ‘e of Wales or even the rent collector BULL Besides’’—-with a flicker of memory ——‘‘didn’t you cal him ‘judge’?”’ “He's judging collies at the next Midwestburg Show,’ said Roke sullenly. ‘‘And probably at St. Louis, and again at Baltimore. If you’ rather have had me kick hin out of here, when he’s got the judging of our dogs at three out of five of their next hows, I c 3ut the rest of the insu ordinate speech went ur heard. With a long whistk Rufus G. Belden was staring up the drive in the wake the vanishing truck. And preser he walked off toward the house, his } head bent low above his fleshier torso Another Napoleonic idea had smitter him. Rufus G. was strong on Napoleoni ideas. They had given him fortune, and his collie kennels. And now h re for hin While this one was in its first ten minutes of ir fancy Belden called up a Midwestburg private detective agency and a law office Sunshine soon afterward began to filter into the financia! life of Jamie Mackellar. Luch for the past year had run counter and had swirled the little Scot around and around in its eddies, stranding him at last on a shoal whence he was toiling in vain to push clear His twelve-year-old daughter, Elspeth, had had a long illness, and had been sent at last to the Adirondacks in order to mend a set of endangered lungs. This line of treatment was not inexpensive; nor had been the ten preced ing weeks of trained nurses and doctors Jamie’s son, Donald, in a technical-school course, was needing eternal help to pay for extras. His wife now, ir reaction from the long strain of caring for her sick daugh ter, had suffered what more prosperous people would have called a nervous breakdown. Pneumonia had followed; and she was convalescing, with Elspeth, in the cruelly expensive Adirondack sanitarium camp. Jamie’s truck, too, had been damaged, to the tune of one hundred and eighty dollars, by a collision with a drunken coal-driver’s machine. And it had been out of commission through a nonsparable fortnight. Jami self had broken his left arm in the same smash-up and was laid by for thrice as long. The driver whom he hired during the month in which his own enforced idleness overlapped that of the truck had cheated him unmercifully times as he was not loafing on the job. It was just the same world-old, ever-repeated sordid hard-luck story, with nothing new about it except to the man to whom it happens. To Jamie it was hideously, dizzyingly new. Then one night he came back to his musty cottage wit! a new lightness in his step and with an off-key whistle on his lips. As he unlocked the front door after putting away the truck the chill and desolation of a temporarily wifeless and childless home struck him as usual full in the face But to-night it failed to wring from him the wonted half stifled sigh. Nor did he abate the soft off-key whistling Something besides desolation smote Mackellar as he swung open his house door. From out the inner recesses of the cottage, at first sound of Jamie’s step on the yard-wide porch, had rushed a big furry shape which flung itself bodily on the returning man, whimpering in sheer joy, patting at his chest with flying white forepaws, striving to lick Mackellar’s grubby face, then dropping on all fours and whirling about him in an ecstasy of welcome. Thus, ever, did Lochinvar Bobby greet the homecoming of the man who was his god. And thus ever did Mackellar’s Seotch heart go forth in eager gladness at the welcome Now, catching the classic head between his gnarled palms, he petted the dog and spoke a word of cheer to him planned they should do still m¢ at such \ i h\ fy ee ~

Page 15

' bi 1 4 4 a * before going on into the kitchen to light the lamp and stir Bobby, according to his custom, followed clogeaipan Jamie’s heels into the kitchen and kept beside him at every step from up the fire and make ready his own solitary supper! stove to cupboard or to table. Always Bobby did this since the family; promoted him from shed to house. But to-ni something more than ordinarily buoyant i dancingly eager steps and in the look he raised to his mas- ter’s newly bright face. With the odd sixth sens« i kind Bobby re« ognized that his little god was exuber happy. And loyally he shared that happiness, eve its cause might be far beyond his canine unde Mackellar was happy. Wheref: was also happy. Which is a col Like most lonely dog men, Mackellar, in lack of other > unquestioning!) confidants, had fallen long since into talking to the collie And to-night as he wrought over the sulking stove his relieved heart forced him into light- hearted speech. “Bobby lad,” he kindled tl , and smoothing the dog’s uplifted head as he sp« Bobby lad, I'll warrant I’ve fair sickened you with the haveri as though to a human out the match with which he had g and complaining I've made you listen to this past month or more. Well, I’ve a different dose of medicine for you to-night, Bobby. A rare good word tonic; worth a hantle of dollars the bottle. Want to hear my news, Bobby At each repetition of his name Bobby’s plumed tail had wagged with fresh vigor, and his wist fully deep-set dark eyes had lighted with a pathetic eagerness. “Well, then, Bobby,” proceeded Mec kellar, “‘here it is, 1. In two or three nutshells, I mean. For it’s f news, Bobby. It came inbunches! First of all, you know how Brewster couldn't renew the mortgage at because he said he was in a hole for ready sob You Don’t go saying you don’t. You eve 1ing. Well, he hails me on the street hy money? Huh? Sure you remember it, remember it perfe ri tly. to-day a lls me he’s sold the mortgage to a lawyer. El } ne. And I go chasing to Ellis; and what ¥ d’you s’pose Ellis told me,, Bobby? Said he’s just bought it in, with some others, as an investment; and didn’t want to foreclose at all; and he’s le tting it run on, indefinite- ile ‘And he had me sign one of those whereas papers; and that was al And now we don't need to fash ou ~~ > _ . . > a Ra 5 7 Ye ve. ye « THE SATURDAY Think of all the fine high-grade sleep I've lost for not} Are you thinking of it, Bobby lad?” Apparently Bobby was, for he evinced much emotion at the repeated mention of his and at the upward infle Jamie's « cellar. ‘‘Here’s the secon¢ | } H i ‘ ‘ ist happer ed to Say he'd bought up the truc! mortg } i t J gi too, and that that could stand till doomsda Wast t funny the same man chanced to ip tt | tw mortgages I ever had, Bobby? But i t the ones I’ve got now, Bobby. I’ve got another A second mortgage on both the truck and the house. | gave it to me. That’s the meatiest nutshell of the lot Got me to atting; and found out the times aren't all they might be r us here, Bob Vv. And he suggested iggested it hin , mind you, Bobby that I take out the second mort gage. He made out the whereas papers in a Jump, while I waited. And I came away from there with a check for five hundred dollars. Bobby? It means more soup meat and the truck could eat in six months. That’s one tl means, Bobby. And, on the side, it mear some Cal now what five | nights’ sleep and a new appetite for a poor old cuss named James Angus Mackellar, Bobby. He set the kettle forward from its repose on the back of the range, and crossed to the table to lay the red-and white cloth for his supper. As he went he talked 4} t **So much for the second nutshell Bobby. tut there’s a third. Honest, there is, Bobby. A third. by ane, they come by twa; and syne they come by three,’ as the Hieland poet chap says, Bobby. Here’s the third A contractor man, ! me the biggest trucking job I’ve ever had my teeth in, in all my days. And he’s so scared I'll renege on it he makes me sign a forfeit paper. I had a time to keep from laughing in his face. Why, a job like tl ind drink to the truck and me, Bobby! Oh, Bol t this i re one 1 } } ha rlorious old world to do our living it g One evening a few weeks later, as A laboriously scrawling hi daily letter to his Adirondack- held wife, there came a rap at the door Sobby, drowsing at his master’s feet, had sprung up at sound of the loud knock. Now, head lowered, and growl ing far down in his slov ly toward the door. “Hey, there!” admonished Jamie. ‘Bobby boy, that’s no way to meet comp’ny. D’ye m pest” “ . , amed Scally, sends for me, and offers shaggy throat, the collie was advancing EVENING POST The Kennet Press and Sporting Writers All Over the Country Had Taken Up the Tidings of Retden's Neu ‘ neg we ve got re, you do i y bleve you do ( e® you j till | ’ the front it short the re , ‘ er | id turned | to i rhe Zk Wied t 1 ‘ wide. | gt wl threshold st i M ed daze ‘ 1 el ae | { { i ew rm Ww eH I is G. Belde ( lthe benig ean 1 { i head iltutat ed tl Vil svar “ i ] gy forth one fat hand ‘ { b I i t I I w 1 tow il ite? I'n M ella ed Rufus G., shaking i i lazed ! { i set ‘ { t ‘ cr i i ‘ s low it the | R t 1 t The one i W } 1 ; ‘ ‘ « . ‘ i : 4 ‘ t t " t Bobby, who at i ‘ ! { hadow at the ‘ Ly } ‘ t at him ‘ ( i feet a i pu ed t 1 ay { yoni é ‘ ed | ‘ ting the ‘ t | ‘ | i t i i N ! tg botl ¢ ma it ry id ft b ne ed t ed doy uc he ted ! i i I I { 1 Jarnle t ul had se ed th ecic etl igh love Fad

Page 16

14 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST be BY DUST e EFasterr if mi office i down the passageway toward the tained | hookhk eeping and irtment The book keeping ‘ f ted of one fat frog-eyed old the name of Mebbs The per e stenographic department sat, pro } person of Miss Horner had been im if n Boston and was the sole inhabitant nature and fence, in the rean who outraged t} bhed hair eters rounded the corner toa spot e had a fair view of the stenographi \e ment he perceived that the protective ‘ rounding Miss Horner had not been i to a sufficient height, for inside it and the young woman's curly bobbed ul oung man. The ; i named Pets Theodore Peter brie pied nfortabl, e position of son to his old lar t had beer ris « pat im tile W e Pete paused lt was rather i | ying up with a ( ina” pause, and e whole six-feet-four I m q ered with the i iptme f it if ned ¢ r ind gripped the | tective t ‘ | ked a ! t ha th ’ ead the glare he leveled } ing man ind Nomar u“ ne ise i tripod for a Artie al ‘You're fired! iid Mr. Peters fram that position, using his most avage Lone ‘You're fired now! Uf that thing on the nail a hat, and if it be ongs to you, put it on ind take it away from here And you you footiess, gangiing ornament to incomplete, i college education it into my office while I figger out whether to drown you a pail or give you to one of the neighbors.”’ He paused for breath, and to enjoy the effect of his it n ‘Dad * said the young man, but that was as far as he continued, for his father regained his breath and launched nto an enumeration of his sentiments toward both his son ster ographer. Since the day she started wagglin’ that sheep’s-wool head of hair in here you hain’t been in your right mind. You got a erick in your back from bendin’ over her desk. What's the idee, eh? Figgerin’ on givin’ me a short-haired laughter, be you? Huh! If she hain’t got onto you in a nonth, then her head’s et up with sap rot. What's she want to do? Marry a first-class game of pool? Calc’late It] support her ‘mn’ you? Naw! I’m through. From here to mnder you're goin’ to develop a useful streak that’s worth ney, or you're goin’ to develop a hungry streak that goin’ to be fed.’’ He stopped again, then uttered a short, disagreeable- inding cough and clutched the fence. He swayed a oment, and then slumped forward so that he hung loosely ver the railing, like some carelessly flung garment. Presently, after the doctor had rushed to their aid, they irried him out and laid him on blankets in a wagon and rried him home. He did not regain consciousness that ight, and it was the judgment of the physician that if ever he did regain consciousness he would be completely useless t human being for many months to come. Wind-shake Peters had burned out his bearings. Not until two days later did Ted Peters realize what a | On that morning the physicians id arrived at their conclusion that Wind-shake Peters would live to resume his activities, but that months must ad happened to him. TLLEUSTTRATE DO BY IN 7 ARTHUR “You're Fired!"’ Said Mr. Peters, Using His Most Savage Tone. “You're Fired Now!"’ pass before he might even be told there was such a thing asa mill. This conveyed nothing to Ted at once; but when he informed Veronica Horner of the fact, that young woman became very thoughtful and eyed Ted with a keen, appraising glance. “That,"’ she said presently, steer the wheelbarrow.”’ Miss Veronica was sometimes terse and a trifle colloquial “Eh?” Ted said, not-following her figure of speech. ‘Your father has dropped the handles, but the wheel- barrow’s got to keep on going, hasn’t it? Well?” “But I don’t know anything about business, about the office and sales end, about financing. Dad has never given me a crack at anything. He has kept me in the mill or out in the woods.” “Better stop with the first four words,” she said tersely. ‘Just say ‘He has kept me,’ and let it go at that.” “Now, listen : “No time to listen. It’s true. I don’t blame your father a bit. Maybe it wasn’t exactly fair to fire me, because I couldn't exactly take you by the collar and throw you out every time you came and sat on the corner of my desk but you—you haven't been a bit of good to him that I can see.” “Veronica **You’re caught now,” she interrupted. ‘“‘Circumstances have reached out and grabbed you, and you can’t dodge. You've got to do something. It’s up to you. You’ve got to run this business, because there isn’t anybody else to run it.” “But I don’t know anything about business.” “I do,” said Veronica succinctly. “I haven’t worked for business men for nothing. Business is just common sense, and sometimes it isn’t such wonderful common sense after ‘‘means you will have to By Clarence Budington Kelland WIrLeLiAaAm /-R74#v Tr wit January 28,1922 all. But I’m fired,” she ended rather lamely. “TI suppose you're right I’ve got to make a stab at it, but 1 “Stop that! If you start with that attitude you're going to end up BROWN a scramble Are you al good?” He stood blinking at her vehemence “You've been brought up this busines Nobody, ol te witn a vestige rence fe right i lot could have lived | here without learning and you've been bus ness besides. You know mor about it than you think It’s the details that are bothering y« Maybe,” he 11d lowl I'he ! face lig nica he animat ! \ é not fired. If I’ve got to run this conce I ru t, and | hire nd fire Will tay? Wil 1 he it it r I was |} ¢ he aa, * su ¢ sense ¢ i to me that. But reme ber this there } no sit , ' ner of 1 lé¢ There'll | f y I’m not a g A short nail wl ’s here to help you pass awa the time. From the tick of the clock it business.’ “But, Veronica, I’ve told you I love “That will do,” she said with a pretens¢ *T’ll stay won't be of severits and I'll help, but I made love to. Hereafter my nam¢ is Miss Horner. Pin that to you lapel. Neither of us will have time for anything but this mill and besides I’m not speculatir Z When Ll invest I want to be sure there wor be a receivership.” “You mean if I pull this off—if I make good ‘I mean that the thing to do is to be busy—starting now. I’m hired?”’ **You are hired,”’ he said. The Peters Hardwood Company was a family corpora tion, and it was fortunate this was true. The directorate consisted of Wind-shake Peters, his wife, his son, his daugh- ter and a spinster sister who made her home in Valley Falls. Acting on the advice of Miss Horner, Ted called the available directors together and, although he was already vice president of the concern, had passed a number of resolutions giving him full authority to function in all departments—to sign checks and commercial paper, to buy, sell and to borrow; to enter into contracts. In short, he assumed all the power his father had formerly concen- trated in his own person. The concern manufactured woodenware rolling-pins, spoons, butter molds, butter bowls and what not, with clothespins and veneer dishes as a staple back- ground. With the processes of manufacture Ted was familiar. Slight difficulty was anticipated here, for he could lean upon the superintendent and various foremen. Ir most mills it is the logging phase of the business that causes greatest worry—the cutting and conveying to the mill yard of the timber essential to manufacture. But the Peters Hardwood Company owned no timber and carried on no logging operations. It bought its timber from the Mountain Lumber Company—a lumber concern which cut only hardwoods, and contracted with Wind-shake Peters to deliver in his yard a certain number of feet of beech, birch and maple, log scale, annually, and at an agreed price. This contract had worked out so well that the in husbands. novelties =; i" i t ; | ‘4

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previous year Ted’s father had more than doubled the capacity of the mill and the size of the contract It was the sales and finances which worried Ted, because he knew nothing about them, and these, to his surprise, caused him very slight trouble. Oc: asiona ly credits kept im awake, but Miss Horner taught him how to wire for special credit reports to a commercial agency difficulty became insignificant. He found, to h that he could apply himself and attend strictly to busi- ness. He found also, somewhat to his distress, that Miss Horner could do the same. From the moment he rehired her she became as impersonal as a time cloc] ind as efficient. Everything went along smoothly and evenly. The ware- house was kept comfortably full; orders came in satisfy- ngly; bills were paid by customers with regularity. Ted began to get the idea that running a business was not sucl a trick after all. And then the Mountain Lumber Com- pany wrote him a letter. At first this letter worried him not at all. It simply notified him that the lumber company had sold all its holdings to the Commonwealth Products Company, which had assumed all the obligations of the lumber company, neluding the contract with t deliver timber. A week afterward a small, sharp-eyed gentleman with 1u tache called. He Y attorney for the Commonwealth Products Company, and introduced himself as the without beating about the bush made a proposition to buy the mill. ‘We own the timber in this valley,” he said. “Our con- cern has many ramifications, and we do not care to have an Vi deper dent operator depende nt upon us as you are We do not care to have any responsibilities except to our own tockholders, ar your contract is a responsibility. If there a profit to be made from our hardwood we want it.” Ted knew his father would never consider a sale of t business which he had worked a lifetime to build up fre an insignificant beginning, and he answered without hesi- tat ' a Uli ‘We are satisfied. We have a decent proposit and r contract with you rut lor filteen year We will THE SATURDAY EVENING timber during the f the year of some ter The mill consumed its four mil haulings during the rest « had come down tl This in itself was not serious, piled as a margin of safety, mean a cutting down uperintendent of tl nent fora day or two He went to the bank, hazy idea that notes of thi ‘We'll renew for thirty days,” Sorry, but conditi irty days. Well, thirty life of a young mar He discussed it wi “Now, Mr. Tomkins, Right Here in This Package is Twenty+five Hundred Dollars

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L ddl lg MEET f by me! Lead agile, Demmy. Come ' ! Lenving Ruddville and a midnight ad of molass the Wildcat needed no compass ght if a boy has plenty of time but when ! | ible is busting speed records be 1 the thing in life is not so much THE SATURDAY EVENING POST LACK ANGEL By Hugh asap ILLUSTRATED Br . de GOULD January 28,1922 do nothin’ ‘less us was dere. He depen’s on me, heavy Bears down on me when dey’s anythin’ a-tall to be done Spec’ without me de cap’n kaint git along none. All yo needs to git workin’ wid Cap’n Jack is fo’ me to tell him ‘Cap’n Jack, heah’s Demmy. Demmy craves to hire wid you. Sho a gran’ boy whah dey’ I te of a nocturnal bath in the cold waters i (ree the Wildcat’s mascot goat still i an intimate veneer of sticky molasses ed herstyle of escape fter the first the untry road it became neces- I ult until the goat could be busted f f nps of es-mixed mud nia cumulated er feet Ir e darkne the Wildcat spoke a quik k h tw legged companion, who ting f pace a little ahead of him and Dem hold de deal a minnit til: us res dis goat's feet looge f'm dis gumbo Demi-tasse, the mall black, Impatient to ised quick work. ‘* Wile don't let nothin’ like plain mud stop you. fact’ry folks find us gone de thing dey does is ketch us an’ install us ntinue the flight, ad heah de jail door slam k dat goat loose f’'m de mud Dat north bound train is due i ne me ‘long it de crossin’ mighty soon, an’ de crossin’ is a e up de pike Come runnin’.” Us is comin’, Demmy Goat, see kin you double t bey i ghter by t pounds of detached mud | vlasse he best she could The eemed to sense the necessity for haste » remonstrance marked her steady trot Where the distant signal of the railroad r gleamed red the trio, with Demmy in id, plunged from the road and waded a rain-filled pit. When they had climbed the rails were clicking the approach of the train and a minute ‘ om around a curve the beam of the idlight slashed across a wide segment of the nefields which hedged the right of way. way embankment Looks like she ain’t gwine stop.” The Wildeut spoke his fears Dat train stop Grade crossin’, Ol’ engi- cer dassent run past till de light shows green. | knows; I run dinin’ car two years on dis gauged his distance and began to work starin’ him in de face. Reckon us bettel pay him good wages, cap’n, times Dat’s all I needs to tell Cap’n Jack an’ you is set lovely in de glue of joy. I knows dat man; so hard Cap’n Jack’s my white folks.” To the Wildcat, Captain Jack was the one safe refuge in time of storm. sphere of influence was a cyclone cel Captain Ja lar where a boy could — sanctuary from Old Man Trouble, and unless Captain Jack was some where in the vic sinity aad riding herd on Lady Luck, that fickle person degenerated into a temporary visitor. The Wildcat craved Lady Luck as a permanent companion and with th lengthening miles he came to realize that the big bet was to let Cantain Jack do all the worry ing that had to be done about capturing and re —- ig the intermittent goddess Until the day dawned the pair alternately dozed and awakened to indulge in pl: future. In these plans Captain Ta k’s depend ence on the Wildcat was heavily featured ““Widout me, nothin’.” When the train butcher began his rounds the pair invested heavily in tobacco and peanuts soda pop, sandwiches and a candy that ran about six cubic feet to the seat Lily ate her share of the food and gave her attention toa half smoked cigar whic Wildcat discarded in favor of one that wasn’ unraveled quite so much. At the puffed mx lasses candy the goat drew the line. A swir ina tankful of heavy molasses and a battle against a flowing flood of the sticky li been included in the night’s terror, and for the time being Lily was fed up on molasses. What she craved was good eating tobacco. She munched thoughtfully on the gratifying cigar and listened to her master’s exposition of Cap- tain Jack’s helplessness: “‘Widout me, Demmy, dat man is lost in de high cane.” Lily bleated faintly. ‘“Blaa-a; mebbe he ain’t so lost without you as you think.” ins for the t ! Demmy, de man kaint do »pound. Under the am N FRANCE throughout the war Captair Jack marched in time with the music, and away from the red signal. ‘‘Come on, limbs on down heah. Third right behin’ de baggage.” Five hundred feet from the signal light the trio waited glare of the approaching headlight. The engine ed past them and the train slowed to a four-mile but before she came to a dead stop two short signal ur f'm de engine; tle innounced her clearance. Hoost dat goat on de platform! Dat’s a highball!”’ Der realized that now was the time for all kh nds to ard Che Wildcat boosted the mascot up the car steps and eached down for his sawed-off companion’s arm. ‘Gimme ind, Demmy. Dat’s it! Whuf! Well—heah us is, bound, an’ trailin’ Lady Luck.” Git inside de car befo’ de conductor thinks us is ridin’ in’ unloads us. Bring dat goat.’” Demmy wasted no contemplating their luck. He opened the door of ar and plowed a channel through the pungent and ea odors until he found a vacant seat. ‘Shove dat l indeh de seat: mebbe d "yy objects to ridin’ geats in see de reason. "Longside de smell whut’s heah lat goat is dollar musk an’ de cork lost.’”. The Wildcat med Lily under the edge of the seat. He took off his looked around at his sleeping fellow passengers. Wonder whah all dese niggers is headed fo’; sho lots of d hands travelin’ since de wah. Niggers whut neveh ed a train is bustin’ up an’ down de line like dey’d been by de Angel Gabr’el! How come so many folks Derr imy i Long on money an’ short on sense. Dey quits befo’ dis time nex’ year a dollar look big as de Heah’s de conductor!” The Wildeat looked up at the train conductor and eached for a roll of bills with which Lady Luck had med him less than two hours before. “‘Cap’n, suh, me at de crossin’ an! didn’t have time to git ticket at de deepo. Us t L moon Demn y got or gwine to Memphis.” The Frenzied Traveter Carried a Suitcase With Him and He Shriveted With the Fear of Some Invisible Menace The conductor cut two cash-fare receipts and handed them to the Wildcat, together with two dollars change out of a moist twenty-dollar bill. Cap'n, thank you!"’ He drawled the pronoun to accent his relief. A boy never could tell about conductors. Sometimes they run you off the train for wearing wet and dirty clothes, sometimes they unloaded you for no evident reason at all. He settled back against the hard rattan seat and began counting his money. ‘“ Demmy, dat las’ pass wid de clickers brung eight hund’ed, an’ dey was sixty layin’ cold. Takin’ out de money us give de man jus’ now, dat’s eight forty an’ de half is fo’ twenty wid a ridin’-high dollar.” He counted out a crumpled and sticky pile of greenbacks. ‘‘Fo’ hund’ed, fo’ ‘ten, fo’ twenty. Dah you is—an’ de silveh slug. Fo’ hund’ed an’ twenty-one dollahs. Sho a lucky five-spot you lent me. Built up noble.” Demmy took the money. “ Wilecat, you done grand. Dat’s mo’ money dan Ise seen since likker got so high. Ise 'bliged. Boy, you is sho shootin’ square wid yo’ podneh!” “Aims to, Demmy. I tol’ you you was half in de game. Dat's half. Wait till us gits to Memphis an’ you sees ol’ Cap'n Jack. Us lives high—gran’ grub at de big house, no mo’ work dan ‘nuff to keep you woke up, gran’ place to sleep, plenty clothes, prancin’ roun’ wid de Mem- phis niggers at some gran’ ruckus ev’y night. Compared wid workin’ in dat ‘lasses fact’ry back dere you'll think Memphis is heaven on high.” “Wilecat, sho soun’s gran’, but how you know Cap’n Jack let me work round his place?”’ “How does I know? Demmy, me an’ de cap’n fit de wah togetheh an’ I took care de cap’n afteh dat an’ brung him an’ de missis home to New York. Ol’ Cap'n couldn't when the bugles of conflict gave place to the fiddling dances of the peace conference he lar guished with the inactive victors until he awakened to a new interest in life, which left him a bound captive, meshed in the bonds of love’s young dream and totally married to the only girl in the world. With his bride, the daughter of a senator who knew | business, Captain Jack returned to his home in Memphi The homecoming was unmarked, and marred by no ad venture except the disappearance of the sidetracked Wild cat, who managed to get himself lost in the jungles of New York, San Francisco and several way stations Thereafter for more than a year Captain Jack bore up under his loss as best he could, relieving his acute distress now and then by profane and complex threats, spoken under his breath, con¢erning the fate that awaited the prodigal Wildcat-when that truant should see fit to return to Captain Jack’s range of action. These outbursts usuall) followed upon the installation of some new servant in Captain Jack’s house. No longer were his days marked by the languid routine of a play lover's life in the South. Business was business now, and overtime was devoted to what seemed to be a perpetual round of formal entertain ments, staged by his wife and inspired by that lady’s sense of her social duties. Where his establishment had numbered two black sery ants were now half a dozen whose complexions ranged th« scale from olive to ebony. Captain Jack’s personal serv ant, a mustard-faced youth from Jamaica who spoke extravagant English and never forgot his British origin, had been installed some months before and had held his job only because Captain Jack was discouraged and done with experiments which seemed invariably to land him one degree farther down the scale of personal comfort. The Jamaica quadroon, schooled as a servant in houses of the foreign residents of his native island, knew his work. After the first month in Captain Jack’s house this Eustace Somerset, being mostly ape under the skin, knew more ' ' } 4 @ | , | { i if i . 4 im l¥ : 4 +

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— a about Captain Jack’s personal whims than that individual himself. ‘*He’s careful enough, my dear,’’ the master of the house admitted to the mistress thereof, “careful enough and does his work, but I can’t get used to having a nigger around me that talks better English than I do; fact is, he makes me feel inferior.” “Jack, you're silly. He’s the best boy you ever had. And whenever I see the servants that infest these other houses I’m tempted to import a dozen more of Somerset's kind. Somehow he lends—not distinction; something he is different. That’s all there is to it. I wish some of these Memphis darkies were more like him.”’ To this terminal fate, riding the Jim Crow day coach, the Wildeat and Demmy rolled through the long day and well into the winter afternoon. Alighting in the Memphis station and comparing himself with some of the better- dressed brunets that languished around him, the Wildcat was conscious of some slight ambition to police his external effect before presenting himself to his white folks. ‘Us might git some pants, Demmy, an’ a shirt whut ain’t so tore. Ol’ Cap’n Jack see me dis way, like as not he knock me loose f’m my backbone.” ** Ain’t got much time, Wilecat; near sundown now.’ Demmy’s vote, together with a sneaking ambition to be knocked loose from his backbone or to suffer some sim compliment at Captain Jack’s hands, carried the day, and forthwith the trio headed for the house that henceforth was to shelter them. ‘Demmy, soon as us sees de cap’n us says howdy to de cook. Sho hungry. Las’ time I lef’ de place dey was a gran’ woman cookin’ fo’ Cap'n Jz Heavy-set woman, but a ol’ hand wid de re Woman name Boone. Husban’ wuz dat yall Tone Boone whut uplifted us boys durin’ de war.” **You tol’ me ’bout dat boy dis afternoon. I remembers. “ Ain’t gwine see him. Dat boy 'fraid to come prowlin’ oun’ dis town. Heah’s de street. - Lawd, gosh, ain’t dat € ack. ” house nach’ral! Whut’s all dem white folks comin’ out? Neveh seed so many ladies in de place.” “Looks like high-tone folks. -Visitin’ prolly.” “Prolly is. Us goes down dis alley an’ in de back way, Demmy.” Down the alley, with Lily at their-heels, trailed the pair until they came to the door of the woodshed that bounded the back of Captain Jack’s property. The Wildcat fum- bled with the latch for a moment before he managed THE SATURDAY EVENING POST and this time indignatior tried the door, and it was hooked. He heard some parle V; cook and a peaked-voi who’s makin’ de clatte to my elbones an’ kaint le: se | The Wildcat proposed to tell the the clatter. Into the interior of tl "T’s me. Open dis do’!”’ He heard the cool And then through: the door he saw of his mustard-faced_ riy Highgate, Middlesex ( “Whah at’s Cap’n Jacl “Leave off the racke captain’s valet. : What man?’ The quadroon’ Wildcat like a challenge ‘Uppity, how come Bizness wid Cap’n Jac de las’ time, open dis de P An instant later the heavy Wildcat’s face. He real interview was ended. wing of the house, and Jack’s property prevailed few red-hot promises of Somerset whenever Lady to get close er ugh to loose from about nine Som’set! I makes hin 1s him manners de fust time I k Learns him so much dey | hin Ax me whut I wants wid my ol’ He walked back to waited hopefully for new lean heavy on the kitchen throughou “Cap’n Jack ain't home, Demmy. Willy Webster’s place an’ back.” He led the way to Willy Webste ing, en route, the details of his encounter wit! person. When he came to the shop he walke door, Demmy and the faithful mascot at hi ed finally that tl s of the new job where waits roun’ till de ce and reserve¢ A member of volunteered some to open it. “‘Got a new kind of fastenin’ on dis place.” Entering the shed he noted that the interior had been considerably cleaned up since his former occupancy. ‘Dat paint makes de place look like dese new houses whut’s too fancy to git comf’table in. All de trash cleaned out; place don’t seem so home- like, Demmy, p’liced up like ‘spection day.” Demmy reserved com- ment. “I betteh wait heah, Wilecat, till you sees yo’ white folks an’ ‘ranges fo’ Cap'n Jack to hire me on.” “Dat’s right. You wait heah wid Lily.’’ The Wildeat’s tone reflected something of old authority borrowed from _ previous association. ‘Wait heah ilst I fixes dis job biz- ness wid de big man.” Alone the fixer prowled out of the woodshed in che direction of the house. En route to the back door he noted that the back lawn had been renovated, border- ing rubbish eliminatedeand two newsteady-put clothes- lines rigged from trimly painted poles. ‘onfidently he mounted the short stairway that led to the kitchen door. He hesitated about opening the door without ceremony and then, conceding a point for fear of offending the cook, on whom he proposed to lean heavily, he compro- mised by knocking loud and long on the resonant panels that framed the swinging wi screen. » informat There was a delay in an- swering. He knocked again, “‘Whah at I Hit Dat Boy?”’ 1 of a two-cha rial etfe ! cent W he t ive I i \ ‘ ‘ f gar k | a ( \\ 1 a ent ‘ gy iro tive Wile t! We | t } ( n Y} i ‘ 1Al fg at a room, where e unemployed he Wild and igger \ an’ Tr gits a ;Som’'set Wensday night t gwine to gi day night “lly. Com bring Demmy. Jamaica i comment the assen mn. “*W ve a part You i wid d t t Till hou i Demn ! ecluded cor f n the crap g f d hee idetracked Wildeat arrival came to life. W ied an invita the W l t and Git i ee | cle er bye ike were ru ng ' ' ‘ r i t M W Me it Zz 1 ‘ ! t ‘ ite to tl 1 et W rT ip] t > a ‘ , :¢ i , i and Continued on Page 69

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18 Tle Pris men injured in the railroad yards before mechanical protections had been invented. The absence of safety levices on the crude railroads of that day that made ible these frequent physical accidents, the keenness of the railroads to get the injured men to sign waivers of iamages or to take mere settlement of surgical and hos- pital fees were among the many things of which the men complained. They had just passed through a period of payment by scrip; that is to say, paper promises by the railroad instead of the paper currency of the United tates. This company scrip was discounted at the neigh- orhood groceries, which further reduced the compensa- ion of the men. Discontent was not local but nation wide. Terence V. Powderly, the labor leader, visited each ection of the industry and organized assemblies of the Knights of Labor. I was not yet of age, but men in the freight yard closed their eyes to my disqualification. I became a mem- ber of the Mis- souri Assembly No. 9 and a sub- scriber to its oath. This as- sembly hadabout two hundred members re- cruited from the trainmen and the freight plat- forms. Their attempts at conducting business in parliamentary fashion were fre- quently con- fused, and after I had been called upon a number of times because of my page-boy information to decide some point, one of those practical foremen whose object was not office or decora- tion, but to get the work done, said: ‘Why do we waste time asking this kid what to do when we know that if we put him into the chair we can get through with our busi- ness end get home to bed?” There was no dissent even from the incumbent officer, and with no outspoken opposition I was elected to the place of master workman. As a man, according to the laws of the organization, had to be twenty-one years of age, and | was two years shy of that, it is probably a fair assumption that I was the youngest master workman in the order. I went through a protracted local strike at that time with our men, and sat in councils that decided rather fateful questions. | HAVE referred in a previous article to the number of John W. Norton. Drawn From Memory by Mr. Thomas Cart-Tail Campaign Speeches N ANY secret organization an oath with the accompany- ing ceremonies and surrounding paraphernalia is an impressing thing. Although not a joiner, I have seen two or three kinds of initiation; but never an equal solemnity to that of those men, who felt they were uniting in a life-or- death class struggle, At that time it was not the avowed policy of organized labor to.-keep clear of politics. I think the leaders among them felt that to influence legislation was the way out of their difficulties. At any rate, in my twentieth year the Labor Party of St. Louis determined to make an organized protest, and although moving to an unquestionable and thoroughly foreseen defeat in the elections, they decided upon the count of noses. In that forlorn hope, as an ineligible candidate for clerk of the circuit court, I made my first out-of-door, cart-tail speeches. The atmos- phere was pretty thoroughly surcharged, The great rail- road strike had ewept the country. In Pittsburgh the strikers had been victorious over the local militia, They had driven the Philadelphia Grays into a roundhouse upon which they trained their captured cannon, and into which they ran a car of burning oil. The Grays were many of them trampled to death. Millions of dollars’ worth of THE SATURDAY EVENING POST t of By AUGUSTUS THOMAS property was destroyed, and order was restored only when Gen. Phil Sheridan, with United States troops, took charge of the situation. John Scott, the first Earl of Eldon, Lord Chancellor of England in 1821, is quoted as saying, when he was eighty years of age, and protesting against the rapid disposition of anybody in the possession of three acres and a cow to become conservative, “If I were to begin life again, I am damned but I would begin as agitator.”” I had not read Lord Eldon, but I began as agitator. Through all this perilous time I had at my elbow my dear old father, wise in political and military fashion; and it may be that much of our organized activity was tem- pered by thoughtful things I was able to say to my men and of which father had in serious discussions informed me. We talk now of persisting forces that work at the founda- tion of our civilization either for its upbuilding and its support or its renovation or its decline; it is proper to be briefly serious concerning them. Associated as I was with men who were working with their hands and were con- stantly risking their lives, I have no apology for a sympa- thetic alignment with them in what was decided class feeling. In my immature and impulsive measurement of the field it seemed that money was heartlessly exploiting the people. My father didn’t believe that to be so desperately the case. Working as a printer at that time, he joined an assembly of Knights of Labor with whom the printers were affiliated; then had a transfer card to the lodge over which I presided. I took this to be a paternal desire to augment our roll. But since then I have had a boy of my own, and I know it was the supervision of an affectionate parent who felt that he must move somewhat cautiously to influence a rather impulsive son. Problems of a Young Labor Leader OMEWHERE in his reading father had picked up the statement that when Arkwright invented the spinning jenny there had been six thousand hand spinners in Eng- land, and that fifty years after the machinery was in fair operation the man power of the machines represented the work of six hundred million spinners. He had a statement, probably gathered from the same source, or one similar, that when the hand spinners were undisturbed in their work the land of England had been under two hundred and fifty thousand separate owners; that after machinery had been in use fifty years the land of England had been con- centrated into the possession of thirty-two thousand indi- vidual and corporate ownerships. I wasn't able to make any profound deduction from these two facts, but I re- member my father saying to me: “Suppose we both were hand spinners competing, and that I suddenly came into the possession of a machine that could do the work of two hundred and fifty men, where would you be? Suppose I made money enough to buy a second ma- chine, and I had five hundred man power to oppose against the output of your two hands.” Somehow he felt that the domin- ance of the machine was a factor in its present status that threatened civilization. He wasn’t sufficiently Chinese to wish to destroy the ma- chine, nor was he statesman enough or political economist enough to know the proper answer; per- haps there isn’t anybody at Washington or Westminster that can give it now; but he thought he saw a gleam of promise in an income tax that could be wisely used. I had a groping apprehension of what he was trying to work out, and in my cart-tail speeches advocated an_ in- come tax. I talked it in every political campaign thereafter to which I was admitted or tolerated. Americacouldnothaveplayed her part in the recent World War without an income tax which enabled her to take excess profits. To jump ahead chronologically, I remember meeting Mr. Charles Schwab in the foyer of a theater George McManus, the Eider. From a Drawing by His Son January 28,1922 Augustus Thomas in 188&8& when at his wife’s solicitation he was taking a half day off from his strenuous work in the war. With the utmost cheerfulness, he said to me, apropos of the government assessments, “1 have to make one hundred dollars for every eleven I want to use for myself.”’ There was no color of complaint in this, but rather a pride in the resourcefulness of his country. But leaving the question of income tax aside, I wonder now if the insensate machine, still encroaching where it has not yet subdued, isn’t largely responsible for part of the interna- tional industrial mess. I wonder if our trouble is altogether a friction between capital and labor—a matter only of production and markets; or if there is not more obliquely and obscurely some trouble still in that old menace that my father thought he sighted. Studying for the Bar NE clause at that time in the constitution of the Knights of Labor provided that no lawyer should be a member of the order. The constitution was an emanation of Mr. Powderly’s council, and I shall leave to him or others equally wise the reason for this precaution. But by the automatic action of that clause, when I entered the law office of John Colby to study law I had my Washington’s Farewell to that assembly. John Peck Colby was born in Nunda, New York. He was the son of Luke Colby, a Baptist clergyman, promi- nent in educational movements 5) of the day and identified with several institutes of learning which had their origin at that time. Young John, enlisting in the 7 Union Army in the Civil War, \ attained the rank of captain. At the close of the war he mar- ried an Elmira girl, Frances Bainbridge, related to Com- modore Bainbridge, of Medi- terranean fame, and became instructor of Latin and Greek in the local academy. After he was admitted tothe bar he came to St. Louis with his bride to establish a home. My acquaintance with him had begun, as I have said be- fore, in the circle of artists and his first interest in me had been along those lines. At that time his son, Bainbridge, was not == quite ten years of age; his little daughter, Lisle, was younger. Mrs. Frances Bainbridge Colby’s father aiso was a clergyman the Reverend Doctor Bain- bridge, then of Elmira. As John used to say, “It was seldom that one saw such eminent piety concentrated in one family.” , 4 a oh, i ( : { ey s f \ { h A t | ; ' | A { ‘ { ny , } i ' H & , a 4 ) b a’ 7 4 y i 4

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f j ‘ { 1g ' i. | a In the law office I found the books unattractive, but I read Blackstone’s Commentaries, Parsons on Contracts, and the other ponderous furniture of that somber place. If, after my grandmother and my own parents, I named the most definite personal influence I had known, I should say it was probably that of Mr. John Colby. With the habit of his scholarly precision, he was very much more interested in the style of anything I had to compose in or out of business hours than he was in its legal accuracy. In both art and letters he was a patient advocate of standards, and he had a sensibility natural and cultivated that made him aware of any influence having a tendency to depress them. He had a love of simple Anglo-Saxon and a sense of fitness in its use or propriety in its elabora- tion. His reading was wide and seleetively renewed, and he had that capacity for quick association or analogy that the psychologists note as a prime element of genius. In writing of his influence upon me I feel that I may claim as an effect of it only an ‘‘attention’’ on my part, and not a “forward march.” His son, Bainbridge, was a sturdy boy with a well- balanced interest in books and play, and in the first days of our association intensely interested in my railroad activities and his occasional chance thereby to get among the cars and locomotives. A characteristic quality of the boy was his interest in affairs and his capacity for sustained attention. The shipping cards on the side doors of the cars indicating destinations and contents interested him. He had to know the reasons for these supplies going to certain places; the original shipping points of their production; the interrelation of the sections of the country; and he took such information as I was able to give and made such pat application of it and such thoughtful associations of its parts that it was a source of constant astonishment to His father, who was a wise educator, had in the library of their home a large-sized terrestrial globe, so that the children had no distorted ideas of the relative extents of the different countries such as most of us get in school from the inadequate systems of maps. Another char- acteristic of the boy was in the kind of questions he used to put to his father. I remember Colby, Sr., showing a good-natured generalization of these attacks by replying to the first of an expected bunch of volleyed questions by a prompt resort me. waist in those days. right with the boy in the greatest glee; but the speed was too fast for Snell, who prudently stuck to the train as he My excuse for rant as Cmsa blew us a kiss and went a mile farther on this foolhardy act is that boatman of the freight I « this experience didn’t mi: looked for. My father had taught chair. I began in like mar the art. ruling that house as can intervals we per- sisted. When This was as contr I dr ypped onto I was as igr THE SATURDAY EVENING POST the platform all arried. Bainbridge’s recital of ike the hit at home we had me boxing while he sat on a trarv to the be imagined; iner to teach young Bainbridge church prec but at ‘ent epts , irregular Bainbridge at six- teen left for his freshman year at college he had pretty well out- grown his tutor. I don’t remember whether reports were satisfactory as to studies, but on the freshman field day my pupil with soft gloves knocked out men. I have seen him since in legal and political con- tests, and had no difficulty in persuading my- self that the stamina there in- variably shown had in itsome ele- ment of ourearlier work together. In 1916, when Mr. Roosevelt tried to two h ive to the established stencil. He said, “‘The gentleman of whom you ask is in the woodenware and he makes barrels and buckets; hesends them to all sec- tions of the country; he is at the head of a very reputable firm; I think they do a large business.”” And the father inished with a hearty laugh at the boy’s reception of this short circuit on his intent. cooperage business; Youthful Exploits ow: that delicate culture could give to him Bainbridge was getting household and its atmos- personally I was anxious to make him familiar with the rougher edges of life. My attempts at this ften ran counter to the family’s ideas. The Fourth of July was not then safe or sane, but their careful mother kept explosives from the Colby children. There can never be any world con- flagration in which Bainbridge Colby, however active politically, will create a sensation as he did on our first Fourth together when we came back from the corner grocery, young 3ainbridge astride of my shoulders and holding in each hand, by the tail of its plaited fuses, a package of ex- ploding firecrackers, which of course very safely released themselves from the string before they fell and went off at our feet. At that time in Kansas City there were two girls to whom George Snell and I used to write from St. Louis. One Sunday we planned a visit to from that nhere: phere, such . Sak \ a ¢ . ~— 4 ‘3 ys Pe ~ ‘ #, y » "4 .* , >} re hes #9 J tpg -! e ‘ ’ +; Ze Ms Migne 3 19 This organization of ama teurs, while resembling the present Comedy Club of New e larger McCullough Club. York and the Mask 1 Wig of Philadelphia had certain distinctive features that are worth consider ld McCullough Club had about a thousand member | which fifty or more were on the active list. Each member ten dollars a winter, and for that received tw to each of the five performances in a season amonth. A regular theater was rented for the ngle performance. The mé nical force back of the cur- was ol protes ional hands from the ilar houses Shortly after join ing the club, because of my semiprofessional and considerable ama- teur experience, too, I became the stage man ager of the tion. Any¢ sympathized with my allusions to i organiza yne who has rancial embarrassment hitherto will feel a sense of relief at learn- ing that I received fifty dollars a performance . for rehearsing and pre senting each play As this work was done out- side the hours of other employment, it was what then and may called velvet was still be Graduates Preteen of ac- tors who achieved fair prominenes though not stellar dis- tinction, were gradu from that club William Beaumont Smith, son of Gen. A 1. Smith, of Vicksburg and Red River fame, was one of our mem- He late rwent on he Ss. the professional and for years a popular leac ng man Linds- ] ho ha Mr 2 os j ley, who has been a s "adil Robert Mantell’s lead- stage was many Guy them, and by some relaxation of the rules I had persuaded the Colby par- ents to let us take Bainbridge along. Wayman McCreery, Amateur Actor and Composer He was then a kid of ten, and roughed it quite manfully with us overnight in the chair car. The nearest station to our destination ir Kansas City was a stop that as we neared it we learned had, for our train, been cut out; but we felt that we would not go by at a speed that would prevent our getting off. Snell took his place on the steps of the car in front of us; we-— Bainbridge and I—were on the platform immediately after. Following instructions, he had his arms wrapped around my neck and his legs around my waist—I had a any theological recollectior 1 Also in tl t Edgar Smith in Editha’s Burgiar gressive back Republican fold, fighter Colby into the it was the who resisted that unattrac ive persuasion and in the er suing cam pa yr, wher Colby as the principal ur errified Pre ¢ gres t Cal vassed the West for Wil sor I thinl were r reareée e to the i stic ante cedents of the oratory than to smoothly lucid and unmistakable diction of his diplomatie communica tions I thought there was the firmness of the lad wh knew how to keep his balance and to put up his hand Colby, Sr., was very sympathetic with m cattering interests, and especially with my play-writing ambition 3efore I went into his off experience in our North St ice, and as Louis dramatic a sequence to my club, I ing man, was another McCullough Club boy; Mr Edgar Smith, for many years librettist for Weber and Fields, an i] 1 now still ful as dramatic author, was another; the late W.G r for William Collier, and up to the date of his death in 1921, the booking mar I Belasco ager for th attractions, was a McCullough Club actor; A. G Smythe, who was the fir thereafter for many ye September, Robyn, the cor poser, | 1 } first mu il W pre ented by of t} u e da ere ¥ called Mrs. Wal- ! i fiftes bo ivailable t any and i I ht Fr it Mr. Joseph 1 had ma illed Our Bachelors, in which ind Ora ert g. There in anecdote of tl 1 weph Bra | who isa vé able Bost url t, that t be t. There will b no ’ ‘ I 1 1, w te f if the theater. had a N ind wl Adelaide Ne 1 came to that ( I t the anagen t arranged for B i to ¢ ne na ] { f Par nkR ‘ and Lie I { i ged ve l pearance wa ; ere ed_ bride oom at ti tomb of Juli wher f rs Romeo forcing the door to t sult. Rome terfered wit! ls Par who f ind speaks the | O, 1 lain! Brad Wa » om ij ed with the techni f be v 1 and falling that he forgot his line He not | I i but he forgot what it wa intil I te ‘ when Romeo has taken the po n and dead iJ t, kneeling over |} oa ; bewailing him At this point the interested audience was astonished to ee the corpse of Paris rise to its elbow and, as if resenting the sympathy that was being showered upon the unhappy oe Juliet, exclaim, “‘O, I am slain Continued on Page °1)

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29 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST D f By Garet Garrett ILLUSTRATED BY ARTHUR WILLIAM BROWN T il xXxVII FYYHE Galt panic was one of those episodes that can | never be fully explained. Elemental forces were loose. Those that derived from human passion were inswerable to the will; there were others of a visitant na- ture, fortuitous and uncontrollable. What man cannot mntrol he may sometimes conduct. You cannot command the lightning; but if it is about to strike, you may lure it Weather is so often the accomplice of dark enterprise! The financial weather at this time was very bad and favored the Bullguard con- spiracy. Confidence, which in this case means the expectation of profit, was in decline. It had never recovered from the here instead of there vock of that first accident to greed’s caldron three months before, when an ignorant popular mania for speculation came all at once to grief. Since then the rise of feeling against trusts and the cer- tainty that it would be translated into political action had filled Wall Street with confusion and alarm. Jullguard’s part was to focus all this distrust and fear upon Galt. Each day the papers reported the weakness of Galt ecurities, how they fell under the selling of uneasy holders, and what the latest i most sinister rumors were. That vas news Nobody could help printing it. rhe financial editors each day repeated hat eminent bankers said: ‘We pray to be delivered from this Jonah. His vays are not our ways, yet he bringeth 4 That was true. They said it; they even believed it. lhe financial editors could not be blamed for writing it } wh : ” rath upon all alike. So many winds running their feet to- gether, like. people in a mob, create a torm; and when it is over and they ire themselves again, sane little winds, they wonder at what was done. The Wall! Street news tickers reported that certain banks were refusing to lend money on Galt This may have been a stroke of the conspiracy or me rely a reaction to the prevailing fear, or both interacting. One never knows. But it was true, and Great Mid- western securities suffered another frightful fall This went on for three weeks with wearcely an interruption. Day after day Galt stood at the ticker watch- ing Great Midwestern fall—to 150, to 140, to 130, to 120-—-and did noth- ing. For the first time in his life he was on the defensive. That made His normal Always he car- ried the fight to the enemy, some- foolhardy he was not. He had foreseen that at the crucial moment he would Nobody believed he could win. The odds were too great. Therefore he could rely only upon himself. One by one, by twos and threes, then by groups his sup- porters fell away. Those who had submitted to his rule from fear were the first to go over to the other side, surrep- titiously at first, lest they should have guessed wrong, then openly as they saw how the fight seemed to be going against him. Several bankers publicly renounced their relations with him. Others whose allegiance was for profit only, whose gains were wet with the sweat of their pride, for- ook him as fast as they were convinced that his career as a money-maker was at an end. Potter was one of these, and He did it handsomely according to his way. One day he came in. “Galt,” he said, ‘I know you are in a hell of a fix and I have done not one damn thing to help. I’m not that kind of person. I hate to quit a manin trouble. So I’ve come to tell you why. There are two reasons: One reason is I've got so much of this Great Midwestern stuff that it’s all I can do to take care of myself. I didn’t get out in time, and now I can't get out at all. The other reason is—well, I'll ecurities the strain much worse, , relief was in action. times rashly; stand alone against the field. the last to go yy S “Coxey, Coxey, Oh, What Shall We Do? x What Shall We Do?" ABR THVIZ VIBE (Aa BROWN — say it. Why not? You have trampled 6n my pride until I have no liking for you left. You're the most hateful man I ever did business with. That's why.” The impulse to come and have it out in this manner was big-man-like, I thought, even though the root was self- justification. No one else had done so much, All the others had gone slinking away. If Galt had responded differently a real friendship might have blazed there, for instinctively they liked and admired each other. Their antagonism was not essential. And besides, the real reason, as we afterward knew, was the one he gave first. Potter, with all his wealth, was himself in a tight place. Bullguard was pressing the oil crowd too, “That's understood,” said Galt in his worst manner. “I didn’t buy your pride. I only rented it. Now you've got it back, look it over, see how much it’s damaged and send me a bill.” Potter went out roaring oaths. A change was taking place in Galt. I saw it in sudden unexpected glimpses. The movements of his body were slower. Anger and irritation no longer found outlet in tantrums, but in sneering, terrible sarcasms, uttered in a cold voice. He looked without seeing and spoke as from January 28,1922 a great distance, high up. His mind, when he revealed it, was the same as ever. Nothing had happened to his mind. His soul lived in torment. His greatest sin had been to hold public opinion > in contempt. Now it was paying him back. To have deserved the opprobrium and suspicion with which he was overwhelmed would perhaps have killed him then; but to suffer disgrace unde- servedly was in one way worse. He reacted by suspecting those who suspected him, and some who didn’t. I believe at one time he almost suspected Mordecai, whose loyalty never for one moment - wavered. However, Mordecai knew, as no one else did, that Galt was still in a very strong position. He had not begun to strike. Thanks to the intuition which moved him at the onset to convert two- thirds of his fortune into cash he could, when the moment came, strike hard. Now came the day of days—the time when Bullguard did his utmost. Fasten- ings gave way. Walls rocked. Strong men lost their rational faculties and retained only the power of primitive vocal utterance. The sounds that issued from the Stock Exchange were appall- ing. The ear would think a demented menagerie was devouring itself. Thou sands of small craft disappeared that day and left no trace. Great Midwestern, spilling out on the tape in five and ten thousand share blocks, fell twenty points in two hours Galt was in his office at the ticker Mordecai was with him, holding his hands reverently together, gazing at the tape in a state of fascination. On one headlong impulse Great Midwestern touched one hundred dollars a share par! It had fallen from 220 in three months, “It’s over,” said Galt, turning away I once saw a great prize fighter, or giving the knock-out blow at the end of a hard battle, turn his back with the same gesture and walk to his own corner ‘Vat iss id you zay?” asked Mordecai, following. “It’s over,” Galt repeated. ‘“‘ They haven’t got me and they can’t go any further without breaking themselves Get your house on the wire. That’s the direct telephone—that one. I want to give an order.” Mordecai picked up the telephone and asked for one of his partners, who in stantly responded. “Vat iss ze order?” asked Mordecai, holding the telephone and looking at Galt. “Buy all the Great Midwestern there is for sale up to 150!” said Galt. Mordecai transmitted this extraordi- nary order, put the telephone down softly and lisped ‘My Gott!” Just then the door burst open. Thirty or forty reporters had been waiting in the outer office all day. Their excite- ment at last broke bounds; they simply came in. The Evening Post man was at their head. “Mr. Galt,”” he shouted, ‘“‘you have got to make some kind of statement. Public opinion demands it.” I expected Galt to explode with rage. ““Postey,” he said, “I don’t know a damn thing about public opinion, That’s your trade. Tell me something about it.” “It wants to know what all this means,” said Postey. “Well, tell it this for me,”’ said Galt. ‘‘Tell it just as I tell you. The panic is over.” ‘But, Mr. * “Now, that’s all,” said Galt. ‘‘Ain’t it enough?” I had been to look at the tape. “Great Midwestern is 130,” I announced at large. The reporters stared at me wide eyed. Postey ran to look for himself, bumping Mordecai aside “That's right,” he said, making swiftly for the door. The others followed him in a trampling rush The sensation now to be accounted for was not the weakness but the sudden recovery of Great Midwestern, and Galt’s statement explained it. So they were anxious to spread their news. It was true. Galt had timed his stroke unerringly. Everyone was amazed to see how little Great Midwest- ern stock was actually for sale when a buying hand appeared. That was because so much of the selling had been fictitious. The stock closed that day at 150, and not while Galt lived was it ever so low again. The feet of many winds ran rapidly apart and the storm collapsed. r. NS a ee

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- ~~ ce TS ORE el mz pre eS A es ¥ THE SATURDAY EVENING POST >I That evening for the first time in many weeks Galt had dinner with the family. We do not see each other change and grow old as a continuous process. It is imperceptible that way. But as one looks at a tree that has been in one’s eye all the time and says with surprise ‘Why, the leaves have turned!” so suddenly we look at a person we have seen every day and say ‘How he has changed!” some association of place or act causing a vivid recollection to arise in contrast. We had all seen Galt coming and going. I had been with him constantly. Yet now as he sat there at table we re- membered him only as he was the last time before this at dinner, making a scene because there was never anything he liked to eat and the cook put cheese in the potatoes. The difference was distressing He was old and world weary. He ate sparingly, complained of nothing, and was so absent that when anyone spoke to him he started and must have the words repeated. Natalie alone succeeded in drawing his interest. She had spent the day at Moonstool. This name had been provisionally bestowed upon the country place, because it happened to be the local name of the mountain, and then became permanent in default of agreement on any other. Work there had been progressing rapidly. The house itself was finished; the principal apartments were ready to be occupied. The surroundings of course were in con- fusion. Steam drills were going all the time. Roadways were blasting through solid rock. turmoil. “But you could live there now,” said Natalie, “if you don’t mind the noise,” closing a long recital, to which Galt had listened thoughtfully “We might have the wedding there,”’ he said. The landscape was in His suggestion produced a ghastly silence. Mrs. Galt tried to turn it away. Galt was alert. “What have I stepped on now?” he wanted to know. “Suffering Moses! It ain’t safe for me to walk around in my own house. What's the matter?” “Nothing,” said Natalie. “Yes, there is. What is it?” When he couldn't be put off any longer Vera said quietly, ““My engagement to Lord Porteous is broken.”’ “Why?” asked Galt, astonished. ‘‘That’s the first I’ve heard of it.” “‘No matter why,” said Vera ‘Let’s not talk about He looked into their faces severally. His expression was utterly wretched and they avoided it reason why—made it perhaps even worse than it was. In his own household he was on the defensive. There He guessed the was always that inaudible accusation he could never get hold of. In the old days it was that he stretched them on the rack of insecurity and was not like other men. Then it - was the way he had made them rich. Now it was that dreadful sense of insecurity again. They did not know whether they were rich or poor. They thought he was heading for a last, spectacular smash-up. And suppose he had told them there was happily no danger of that? Their thoughts would accuse him still. Why couldn't they be rich as other people were, decently, quietly and in good taste? The Valentines were rich and no obloquy pursued them. Their privacy was not besieged by newspaper re porters The finger of scorn never pointed at them Vera’s broken engagement was a harrowing symbol Galt was extremely miserable. One could imagine what he was thinking. The Galt fortune was saved, the Galt power had survived, but the Galt name was a sound of reproach The publie opinion that had so devastated his spirit did not leave his family unwhipped. These women had suf fered for being his. Though they might not believe the things that were said of him, still they could not help feel ing ashamed of the wealth he had brought them. They were defenseless He was clothed with a sense of justifica tion that he could not impart. They were naked to the scourge. His day of victory ended in gloom and dumb wretched- ness XXVITT HEN with one swift intention the sun broke through, and there were the heights directly in front of | The rest of the way was enchanted. All its difficultis were illusions. They vanished as he approached His Wall Street enemies were scattered in the night It was as he had said. They had been unab tre him and they did not dare carry the fight any further for fear of involving themselves in ruin. His amazir stroke, delivered at the very moment when their utmost effort had failed, threw them into a pani It took the stock market out of their hands and turned it squarely against them. The conspiracy was not abandoned. It col lapsed. After that it was every man for himself, with the fear of Galt in his heart. The penitential procession started early the next da Those who had deserted him returned with gesture humility, begging to be chastised and forgiven. The var quished sat patiently in his outer office, bearing tokens of amity and proposals of alliance. For he was one, unique and indestructible. He treated the spectac le as it deserved, cynica wilt a saving salt of humor “They make their beds fast,’’ he said Among the first to come was one of Bullguard’s part ners —a peasant-minded, ingratiating person whose us« Bullguard was his ability to face the devil smirk for smir His errand was to say that Bullguard & (¢ tain any reasonable offer for the purchase of their minority would enter interest in Orient & Pacific shares, and if they could be of “I Didn't Buy Your Pride,"* Said Gait “I Only Rented It. Nou it Back, Look it Over, See it's Damaged, and Send Mea Bilt" ervice to Mr. Galt at any time, why —and so on —he ha ly to oblige them by letting them know how. Galt wa cool as to the services, and so on, but he made an offer for the minority Orient & Pacific shares which was acces ecia few hours later. That was Bullguard’s way of ! war atanend. It was the grand salut Horace Potter was the only man who never came He could not sneak back, and there was 1 the vaS Chey had mortally wounded each other's prick Meanwhile Congress, like the old woma b t heavy-foote l, slow to be amazed way t never never, heard of Galt, became much alarmed and jemnly resolved to investigate him. He wa immoned to appear before a committee of the House with pape ind book lhe committee felt incompetent t duct the examination Finance is a language pol must not know It is not the language of the peopl t engaged counsel, a lawye N 1 Goldf He was a man who knew all the dim and secret pathwa of the law, and cl irged Wa treet t ( Tene lor leading them past the spirit to e lette HI g got r h } t} } ofe he pu } ne } j reach of the predaciou ind became publ pirited it became | ivocation to plead the cause I [Mt l iva Mami ind where or whensoever a malefa {; it ve nh was hailed to court t ivht to appear before tee f ( nyre ty ifu } n f ir act is prosecuting attorney, wit! r without fee ind | ime wa iread to ar ict e Knew ‘ j Vu ind all the wicke t that had eve bet practiced mit ‘ t i | il | Vv i tive al is to lace, W had t fore faced } ‘ i n" ‘ it al It wa Ke ea ff leal. Counsel warned him according I've got a straight story to t he said. “I don't need any hely Howeve they i ted on nding | We arrived Was! rn one ! August 1 r r ‘ ill ir « ent ‘ t th i te hotel, and we empty-handed t (aj here neithe f us had bee bel We wa the committee sat It was a special committee with oom of its own. We were directed at last to the Rivers and Harbors Committee room It was full of smoke ele la ind me ina les of wait g mix King ve g int at around a long t le « ered witt green clotl Other to the numbe of t f t t cha aga t the wa Ata alle ible were the eporters with reams of paper in front of them Is this the committee that wants t ee THe M Galt he asked, standing on the threst j I aid the man at the head of t ‘ He was the chairma He sat wit! f Nn er the arm ott chair, his back to the d , and did I irn h i r much aS move a Nair He spoke in that loud ike the people busine mpressi to the multitude and glared at us tl gh the back of that pe I aid Galt have delayed u i quarter ol 1 the chairmal till with were hard to find ud Galt | I Y g about lor a place iced | nit th end of the table. There wa I me € na na yet r. wh poke The que ) raised is to whether witne may be permitted tf ippea with « r It lecided n tne ne ‘ Cou ‘ ¢} will be excused ‘5 hit ct N ! ‘ id | nt pened Lo t by cused 11d the « n aga Still not gy happen¢ If 1 are r me 11d Ga I ‘ runsel [ didn’t bring a tnat I left them at the hotel.’ ‘Who is the gentleman with you the chairman asked “Oh,” said Galt, loo g at me ‘That’s all right. He ; You've Got tary He doesn’t know any more law How Much than I do.” Centinued on Page 24

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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 Cente the Cony From All Newsdealers, By Subscription; To the United States and Possessions, Cuba and Mexico, $2.0¢ the Year. Remit by U.S. Menmey Order, Express Moaey Order, Check of by Dratt, payable in U.S. Punds To Canada — By Subecription, $3.00 the Year. Single Copies, Ten Cents— Canedien of U.S. Funds Foreign Subscriptions: For Gountrice in the Postal Union. Subscriptions $60 the Year, Kemittances to be by Draft on a bank in the U. S., payable in S. funds PHILADELPHIA, JANUARY 28, 1922 Bats in the Belfry FTVUE greatest good that can come out of the Washington _ conference is not limitation of armaments, important though that is, but limitation of the thought of war. In proportion as the world thinks less war it will build fewer battleships The limitation of international greed and the elimina- tion of international hate, which is bred of greed, are the real issues. War is simply the boiling point of greed. As in the case of Germany, greed can be limited and controlled by war, but from the standpoint of intelligent selfishness that method costs too much; in fact, its cost has become prohibitive . Heretofore the thought of the world has been directed towards war by a large number of its leaders. President Harding, Mr. Balfour and Secretary Hughes, not to men- tion former President Wilson and others, have been striv- ing to direct it away from war. But at best, with the present world leadership, the Washington conference could make only a beginning. For in the haggling over ratios and sub- marines, and in the jockeying for advantage, one fact was quite apparent: Many statesmen in their attitude towards war are far behind the people that they represent. There is no wish to minimize the importance of what this conference has done; but as it progressed it became clear that some of the world’s leaders are still wallowing along in the old war ruts, are still two-gun men at heart, even though they may agree to tote only one gun for a while Something has been started, but nothing has been fin- ished by the conference. After it adjourns an unceasing campaign must be waged against both the causes and the causers of war. From limitation of armaments the world must go on to the abolition of war. There can be no middle ground in this fight, no armistice signed at Spa. There can be no stopping place short of a decisive victory, by which even the most bullheaded of the world’s militarists will be convinced that they are licked. Usuatly the people need education on international questions, but they are educated on this one, and they are almost a unit against war, except when they are influenced by a propaganda of fear and hate. It is the princes, the premiers, the statesmen who, with many splendid excep- tions, need education. Otherwise—backed as they are by a world sentiment for peace, prodded as they are by the prospect of world bankruptcy, faced as they are with THE SATURDAY EVENING POST famine and revolution in both European and Asiatic countries they would long since have found a way to right-about the world toward permanent peace. These men are either insincere or incompetent. Only by defeat and retirement can they be taught, or at least rendered harmless. The fact is that a large number of those who are highly placed in politics and diplomacy are as medieval as a Gothic cathedral. Bats flutter through their belfries and rats scuttle across the spidery and cobwebby corners of their minds. In the privacy of their candid moments they are full of reasons why there must always be war. They believe in a double standard—one for home and the other for foreign affairs. Publicly they accept in principle and privately play hell in practice. In one respect they are right. As long as a large number of men who are influ- entia! in the direction of world affairs think war there will be war. In believing that there is no alternative they make war inevitable. If these men thought as loosely and as hopelessly about national law and order the world would be in a state of anarchy. We should like to see a line-up at the next elections, whether for Congress, or Parliament, or the Chamber of Deputies, or whatever the representative body, on the single issue, War or peace? All other issues, economic and political, are to-day comprised in that one. An economic conference will get nowhere unless that issue is settled. To forgive Europe her war debts would be folly so long as she keeps on spending gigantic sums for armies and navies. Under present conditions America would simply be financ- ing new war expenditures for Europe to the tune of eleven billion dollars. Though it is the fashion in some foreign quarters to ‘ speak of America’s “gains” from the recent war, a casting up of our accounts shows not one inch of new territory, not one dollar of reparations to our credit. The actual results of our share in a victorious war are a huge national debt, labor in the bread line, agriculture prostrate, and business halting. We are better off than some others; we are behaving more sanely, and for that reason we are coming back more quickly; but that is all, except that as a nation we are thoroughly sold on the folly of war. If America were the sole arbiter of the world’s destinies there would soon be a huge number of secondhand battle- ships, submarines, big guns, snappy uniforms and poison- gas factories on the market. Every measure that we can devise for our own relief and reconstruction and that of the rest of the world is indissolubly bound up in the major question, War or peace? It is a thousand times more important that the people of Europe and America know just where every candidate for office stands on world peace than to be in- formed on his attitude towards any party question. War and preparations for war can be stopped quickly once the people show that they mean business and the Bour- bons among their leaders know that they will stand no hem- ming and hawing, no stalling and buck passing. But world peace must be a world movement, backed by a world sentiment. It can come about only through an association of nations with authority to apply economic pressure to the uttermost and to deprive warring powers of the fruits of aggression down to the last penny of indemnity and the last inch of seized territory. There is a forceless force, economic isolation, that can more quickly and effectively subdue an aggressive nation than big guns or poison gas. Other measures may prove excellent palliatives, may help temporarily, but they will not prevent war. Greed and the hate that springs from it, rarely spontaneous but almost invariably fostered by propaganda from above, must finally be dealt with. War will be spoiled for the warmakers only when there are no spoils of war. If the nations can accept the present naval ratios there is no good reason why the tonnage allowed under them can- not almost immediately be cut in half, and then cut again and again, until in the end navies have reached the level of a police force, And if we are to make it hard to fight at sea we should make it harder still to fight on land. The potentialities of damage and loss of life are infinitely greater there. These latge standing armies are simply a standing threat against the peace and prosperity of the world. January 28,1922 Nations that continue to maintain them will be under suspicion, and rightly so. The Prussian idea is none the less hateful when it wears a different uniform. No nation can ever be permitted to goose-step its way to glory and to power. Statesmen may examine with profit the final gain to their countries from the campaigns of the great aggressors, the imperial warmakers, the wholesale butchers —Cesar, who ruled the world; Napoleon, who conquered Europe; and Wilhelm, who sought to dominate it. And they were all amateurs, playing a parlor game of war, beside our new professionals. Sword and pistol and dripping blade, So ure the ghosts and the glory made. To which a more modern poet must add poison gas for our boys and bombs for the women and children. For hereafter there will be no chance for the brave to stand up and fight; no place for the slacker to hide. The women, the children, the timid, the cowards, along with the brave, will have exactly the same chance that penned sheep have before the butcher’s knife. There are too many ghosts and not enough glory in the business nowadays. Coming generations will hail not the warmakers, but the men who make an end of war, as their heroes. Meanwhile let us be grateful for what the con- ference gives us, and demand more and more and more. Permanent peace is possible and practicable. He who is not for it, actively and openly, is against it. Acceptance in principle is not enough. There are bats in that belfry, waiting for the twilight through which the half blind slip on stealthy errands. There must be acceptance in fact drastic limitation and demobilization down to a police basis for the world, with every move made in the clear daylight. American statesmen can always afford to fail openly, but not in secret. From Pretense to Reality EN who have traveled in Africa say that the gorilla beats himself upon the chest in order to work up a rage. If it is true, the gorilla family is not ignorant of psychology. To simulate an emotion is to invite the emotion itself. If a man has a grievance he can nurse it quietly while he refrains from speech. But let him begin to talk about it and each epithet will invite another and louder one, until at length he is white with rage and ready for battle. When a child is whipped the first blow may be administered by a grave and even-tempered justice; but a blow is normally the product of temper, and unless the parent is possessed of remarkable self-control, temper rather than justice will administer the second blow and those that follow it. To go through the motions that tem- per normally inspires is to arouse temper. It has been said many times that it is much easier to forgive a man who has wronged one than to forgive a man one has wronged. This is not the irony it seems, but a simple statement of fact. To injure another is an act of hate, and if the wrong done is greater than the ill will that prompted it the action will generate a degree of malice sufficient to justify itself. And if anger, hate and fear are thus the sport of action, so also is love. The poet Burns confesses that frequently he made love to order—that he simulated an affection he did not feel, and by going through the motions of love became at last a prey to love itself. Others, before and since his time, have had a like experience. This theory would seem to mock the divine passion, but it doesn’t. Work is necessitated by need, and therefore the act of working makes people feel poor. Spending money is the result of possessing wealth, and therefore the act of spend- ing makes people feel rich. It is an odd paradox, but one always feels richest while engaged at the business of mak- ing himself poorer. When nations go through the motions of beating their swords into plowshares they will engen- der some measure of the spirit upon which a lasting peace depends. If one is determined to love his neighbor he can strengthen his resolve much more by offering his hand than by reaching for his gun. 7% } ‘ , | ' ‘ | 4 f | , if " ' j ‘ j ! 4 4 . if ft * r ‘i : f ‘ i , W 1) 4 ’ 1 }

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When f HE little local train upon our American railroad is dying. The automobile has —— brought it close to its death. It may be 7 the motor bus or the privately owned and operated car, but it is a plain case of murder in the first degree. Which 4 comes atop of a brutal assault some years ago by an earlier ‘ | competitor, the trolley car; although to-day, through the d relentless justice of time, the interurban finds itself cheek ‘a by jowl with that same little steam train which it once 7 fought so hard, struggling for its own existence. The auto- mobile and the good highway that makes it possible are ¥) j their common enemies. That the motor car should not be r an enemy but an ally, closely correlated in the great busi- igi ness of national transport, to the carriers that run upon steel rails is almost obvious; and before the great and vex- j ing problem of our railroads ever can be really solved this ‘ 4 very thing must be brought to pass. ‘ Operators’ Problems ; HEN one thinks of a passenger train here in America f his mind is apt to focus first upon the great express trains of the land. These are brilliant and showy. Yet upon half our railroad mileage passenger service is performed ex- clusively by local trains. Upon these lines there still dwells very large percentage of the national population, though it must not be forgotten that upon the main-line rails local 5 trains also must operate to serve the towns too small for the fast expresses. So we see that though the local train dies it canr es It must in some form remain, it Weenies SS f : *\ iy H y ) ' fi ~ iH MN 1 ie j ; | & i ‘ ~ ar ate Ries wo ee a pe a THE SATURDAY EVENING POST he Shoe Begins to Pinch By Edward Hungerford though but a shivering wraith of its former glory. It must continue to operate. But how? With a continuance of the secondhand lecomotives and cars still in such large usage land? Can it not at least have across the new equipment, so that it may have a better fighting chance against its competitors? At this mere thought the average railroad executive will arise to ask me where I expect him to raise the money for of his local service. He But he will repeat his demand to be shown how he can afford to any extensive betterment may concede that it is far from being as it should be buy new locomotives and cars for the trains that have been permitted to remain upon his lines, for it must be remem bered that all the way across the land a great number of these locals have already been entirely removed from the schedules To this loud-voiced demand of the railroad operators there is answer, seemingly enigmatic, but really quite sim ple—would you put a twin-six car on a milk route? In other words, in all these twenty years or more that the local train has been losing business— first to the interurban electric and then to the automobile—-what have its owner been doing to stem the tide of a rush of business to these competitors? It is both simple and This answer is not enigmatic. pathetic simply nothing With a very few exceptions the local-passenger-tra service of our railroads to-day is practically unchanged since 1870, save where it has beer essened There are far fewer trai: Heavier ones, I grant you Che « tremely unscientific policy — come from sheer COMING HIS WAY v7) ocal trains that still remain far heavier tha those or three or four decade iy ind so, ta more expensive to operate and tl i he face of a stea ly decreasing traffic The deadweight train to each passenger carried has risen to an appalting proportion, which gives many ra id officers the oppor tunity of saying “Why should we add more trair > So that we can lose more money on each additional one of them? Shall we send good money after bad?” Not quite so rapidly, gentlemer It may not be nece ary, afterall, for you to add trains in order really toimprove your lo« al passenger service, and so in turn our revenue The Gasoline Milk Route “WUPPOSE that we do try the flivver on the milk route b_) Translate flivver literally intoa car propelled by agaso of the problem line engine and you will begin one solution It is one that has not been entirely overlooked by the oper The railroads about ating executives of some of our road gasoline unit car first made its appearance upon our fifteen years ago At the outset it was not entirely uk cessful. It was particularly liable to breakdowns which pre ented new complicatior to men schooled i the ai ments of steam locomotives. The element of prejudice w another factor againat it he ironclad rules of the brot erhoods which necessitated a irge a staff for its move ment as for a fu ed train was a third t was that the origi type of self-propelled unit womotive, baggage ca d da ach a ore ! ever met th a large degree of succe her In rece r eve altar mp type of ¢ ‘ ir ha le { pearance, especia me of Continued on Page 75

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There was a formal pause. The official stenographer leaned toward Galt,speaking quietly, and took his name, age, iddress and occupation. The chairman said, ‘‘ Proceed.” Goldfuss poised himself for theatrical effect. He was a xdy-conscious man with a coarse, loose skin, very close agging at the jowls, unblinking eyes, voice like the sound of a file in the teeth of a haven, powdered, u iW ‘So this is the great Galt,” he said sardonically, slowly wobbing his head “And you,” said Galt, “are the Goldfuss who once tried © trim me for a million dollars.” Oh, famous beginning! The crowd was tense with delight Goldfuss, looking aggrieved and disgusted, turned to the chairman, saying, “‘Wili the committee admonish the witne hs Che chairman took his leg down, carefully relighted a “Strike that off the record. I will inform the witness that this is a committee of Congress, neople’s cigar and said, vith power to punish contumacious and disrespectful conduct. The witness is warned to answer questions with- out any irrelevant remarks of his own I beg your pardon,” said Galt. ‘What was the ques tion? Che official stenographer read from his note: 3 the great Galt.” ‘That ain't a question,” said Galt The round was his. The audience tittered. The chair- man put his leg back and glared wearily into space “I withdraw it,” said Goldfuss. ‘‘Start the record new from here. Mr. Galt, you were directed to produce before Have you “So this this committee all your books and papers. brought them?’ No.” “No? Why not, please? “They would fill this whole room,” said Galt Mr. Goldfuss started again “Your occupation, Mr. Galt—-you said it was what?”’ *Farmer,” said Galt. “Yes? What do you farm?” “The country,” said Galt ‘Do you consider that a nice expression?”’ Nicest I know, depending on how you take it,”’ said Galt ‘Well, now tell this committee, the country, using your own expression.” “1 fertilize it,” said Galt. “I sow and reap, im- prove the soil and keep adding new machinery and please, how you farm buildings.” ‘What do you fertilize it with, Mr. Galt?” “Money.” “What do you sow, Mr. Galt?” **More money.” “And what do you reap?” * Profit.” “A great deal of that?” Plenty,” “And what do you do with the profit, Mr. Galt?” ‘Sow it again.” “A lovely parable, Mr. Galt is it not true, however, that said Gait you are also a speculator? “Yes, that’s true,” said Galt “To put it plainly, is it not true that you area gambler?” ‘“That’s part of my trade,” said Galt. “Every farmer isa gambler. He gam- bles in weather, worms, bugs, acts of Congress and the price of his produce, ‘You gamble (f “Inthe securities of the railroad prop- erties youcontrol?”’ “Heavily.” “If, for example, you are going to in- crease the dividend on Great Midwest- ern stock you first go into the market and buy it for a rise-—buy it before the public knows that you are going to increase the divi- dend?” ‘*“That’s the . case, THE SATURDAY EVENING POST THE DRIVER (Continued from Page 21) ‘As a matter of fact, you did some time ago increase the dividend on Great Midwestern from 4 to 8 per cent, and the stock had a big rise for that reason. Tell this commit- tee, please, when and how and at what prices you bought the stock in anticipation of that event?” n anticipation of that 8 per cent dividend,” said Galt reminiscently, “I began to buy Great Midwestern stock nine years ago at ten dollars a share. It went down, and I bought it at five dollars a share, at two dollars, at a dollar and a half. The road went into the hands of a receiver, and [ stuck to it. I bought it all the way up again, at fifteen dollars a share, at fifty dollars, at a hun- dred and fifty, and I’m buying still.” Goldfuss was bored. He seemed to be saying to the audience, ‘‘ Well, so much for fun. Now we get down to the hard stuff.” He produced a certain document. “Mr. Galt, I show you a certi‘ied list of the investments of the Security Life Insurance Company. You are a direc- tor of that institution, are you not?” y Lr ~ tg ‘You used some of your farming profits to buy a large interest in the Security Life Insurance Company?” i Nl “You are chairman of its finance committee? “Ves.” “In fact, Mr. Galt, you control the investments of the Security Life. You recommend what securities the policy- holders’ money ‘shall be invested in?” ‘Something like that,” said Galt. **Now, Mr. Galt, look at this certified statement, please. The investments amount to more than four hundred millions. I call your attention to the fact that nearly one- quarter of that ¢normous total consists of what are known as Galt securities —that is, the stocks and bonds of railroad companies controlled by Henry M. Galt. Is that correct?” “Substantially,” said Galt. “Did you, as chairman of the finance committee of the Security Life, recommend the purchase of those securities?” “Yea.” *‘And at the same time, as head of the Great Midwest- ern Railway System, you were interested in selling those securities, were you not?” “We need a great deal of capital,’’ said Galt. ‘‘We are selling new securities all the time. We sell all we can and wish we could sell more. There is always more work to do than we can find the money for.” let me see “So This is the Great Gatt,"* He Said Sardonicatly. “And You,"’ Said Galt, “are the Goldfuse said Galt Who Once Tried to Trim Me for a Million Dottars"’ January 28,1922 “So, Mr. Galt, it comes to this: As head of a great rail- road system you create securities which you are anxious to sell. In that rdle you are a seller. Then as chairman of the finance committee of the Security Life Insurance Com- pany, acting as trustee for the policyholders, you are a buyer of securities. In that position of trust, with power to say how the policyholders’ money shall be invested, you recommend the purchase of securities in which you are interested as a seller. Is that true?” “I don’t like the way you put it, but let it stand,” said Galt. “How can you justify that, Mr. Galt? Is it right, do you think, that a trustee should buy with one hand what he sells with the other?” Galt leaned over, beating the table slowly with his fist. “T justify it this way,” he said. ‘I know all about the securities of the Great Midwestern. I don’t know of any- thing better for the Security Life to put its money into. If you can tell me of anything better I will advise the finance committee at its next meeting to sell all its Great Midwestern stuff and buy that, whatever it is. I'll do more. If you can tell me of anything better I will sell all my own Great Midwestern stocks and bonds and buy that instead. I have my own money in Great Midwestern There’s another Galt you left out. As head of a great rail- way system I am a seller of securities to investors all over the world. That is how we find the capital to build our things. But as an individual I am a buyer of those same securities. I sell to everybody with one hand and buy for myself all that I can with the other hand. point? I buy them because I know what they are worth. I recommend them to the Security Life because I know what they are worth. That is how I justify it, sir.” Enough of that. Goldfuss had meant to go from the Security Life to each of the other financial institutions controlled by Galt, meaning to show how he had been unloading Galt securities upon them. But what was the use? What could he do with an answer like that? He passed instead to the Orient & Pacific matter. Galt ad- mitted that he had used the power of majority stockholder to make the property subservient to the Great Midwestern because that was the efficient thing to do. “And that, you think, is a fair way to treat minority stockholders?”’ Goldfuss asked. “We were willing at any time to buy them out at the market price,’”’ said Galt. ‘‘ However, that’s now an aca- demic matter. The Great Midwestern has acquired all that minority interest in Orient & Pacific.” This was news. There was a stir at the reporters’ table. i Do you see the Several rose and went out to telegraph Galt’s statement to Wall Street, where nobody yet knew how Bullguard & Co. had made peace with him. So they went from one thing toanother. They came to that notorious land transaction on account of which he had been sued. “We needed that land for an impor- tant piece of rail- road development,” said Galt. “‘Some land traders. got wind of our plans, formed asyndicate, bought up all the ground around, and then tried to make us buy it through the nose. We sim- ply sat tight until they went broke. Then we took it off their hands. There was more than the Great Midwestern needed, because they were hogs. The Great Midwest- ern took what it wanted and I took the rest. Thedirectors knew all about it.” “And it was very profitable to you personally, this outeome?”’ “Incidentally it was,” said Galt. ‘Some- body would get it. It fell into my hands. What would you have done?” “Strike that off the record—‘What would you have done?’”’ said Goldfuss. ‘Counsel is not being examined.” After lunch he took a new line. “Mr. Galt,” he asked, “what are you worth?” “T don’t know,” said Galt. (Continued on Page 26) cee ee Se ee _ cane | LOO ee mean +

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ui , f | { fi + ig 4 y a i 1 1 iF ; , i | 1} - \ t | i | » i 1% \ id | if i \ ~ Sa Ai” Delightful variety in Campbell’s Soups h I icKken lcken T I I B ' ( ( ( ‘ ( Julienne Mok k Turtle V, , Your grocer c Mulligat Awny Mutton Ox-tail Pe a Pepper Pot Printanier Gumbe (Okra) Tomato lomato-Okra rmicelli -Tomato an supply any of these soups THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Good pea soup-—just taste it! Pea soup is a favorite round the world. Just dip your spoon tonight into a savory, creamy plateful of Campbell's. You'll say you never tasted such a pea soup—so mellow, so delicious, so rich in quality and satisfaction. Campbell's Pea Soup is made from dainty tender peas blended, according to Campbell's own recipe, with pure country milk and fresh creamery butter, delicately spiced. How you will like it! How to prepare Cream of Pea Simply by adding an equ il quantity of milk or cream to ‘ before serving you have a velvety, smooth, heavy Cream of Px prize dishes. Even more attractive served in pouillon cups toppe itl LOOK FOR SrlZ EO ANNO Wr lr LABS

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(Continued from Page 24) “You don’t know how rich you are?”’ oony,. 9 No oldfus ae back in his chair with an of fei igi im t “But yo iit you are very rich?”’ he said, ha ered M “Yes I suppose I am.” “Well, « possible, will you tell this comn yu made it?”’ ‘Now you've asked me something,” said Ga ait, leaning forward again. ‘ li you. I made it buying things nobody else wanted, I bought Great Mid- western when it was bankrupt and people thought no railroad was worth its weight as junk When I tool charge of the property I bought equipment when it was cheap be- ause noble ody else wanted it and the equip- ment makers were hungry; and rails and ties and materials and labor to improve the road, until everybody thought I was crazy. When the business came we had a railroad to handle it I’ done that same thing with every property I have taken up. No railroad I’ve ever touched has depreciated in value. I'm doing it still, You may know there has been an upset in Wall Street recently --a panic, in fact. Every- body is unea ind business is worried be- sturbance has always cause a financial d been followed by commercial depression There are signs of that already. But we'll stop it In the next twelve months the Great Midwestern properties will spend five hundred million dollars for double tracking, grade reductions, new equipment and larger terminals.” This was new Again there was a stir at the reporters’ table as several rose to go flash Galt’s statement to Wall out and treet ‘Mr. Galt,” said Goldfuss, ‘‘do you realize whut it means for one man to say he will spend five hundred millions in a year? That is half the national debt.” “T know exactly what it means,’ said Galt, “It means for once a Wall Street panic won't be followed by unemployment and industrial depression. Our orders for materials and labor now going out will atart everything up again at full speed. Others will act on our example. You'll see ‘You will draw upon the financial stitutions you control, the Security Life and others, fora good deal of that money the five hundred millions? “You get the idea,”’ said Galt, ‘That's what financial institutions are for. There’s no better use for their money.” ‘You have great power, Mr. Galt.”’ “Some,” he said “Tf it goes on increasing at this rate you will soon be the economic dictator of the country No answer “T say you will be the economic dictator of the whole country.” “T heard you say it,” said Galt, ‘“‘It ain't a question.” ‘But do you think it desirable that one man should have so much power— that one man should run the country?’ “Somebody ought to run it,”’ said Galt. “Is it your ambition to run it?” “It is my idea,” said Galt, ‘that the finanvial. institutions of the country—I mean the insurance companies and the banks—instead of lending themselves out of funds in times of high prosperity ought then to build up great reserves of capital to be loaned out in hard times, That would keep people from going crazy with p*os- perity at one time and committing suicide at another time. But they won't do it by themselves. Somebody has to see to it somebody who knows not only how not to spend money when everybody is wild to buy, but how tospend it courageously when there is a surplus of things that nobody else wants. Every financial institution that I have anything to do with will be governed by that idea, and the Great Midwestern properties, while I run-them, will decrease their capital expenditures as prices rise and increase them as prices fall. When we show them the whole trick and how it pays, everybody will do it. We won't have any more depressions and Coxey’s armies. We won't have any more unemployment. In a country like this unemployment is eco- nomic lunacy.”’ The hearing continued for three days. The newspapers printed almost nothing else on their first three pages. Galt’s testi- mony produced everywhere a monumental effect Public opinion went over by a somersault. THE SATURDAY He denied nothing. He admitted every- . He was invincible because he > most remarkable They shook hands all around, steps Galt stumbled and clutched my The sustaining excitement was at an end and the reaction was sudden, ici irritably, and we went on walking, though it was above his strength. When we were halfway back to the hotel, he stopped and said: ‘You're ‘right, Coxey. A strange uneasiness We took the next train for He wouldn’t rest. “y want to go to Moonstool,” The idea seized him after we Let’s take a holiday to-morrow and go all over it,”’ I said. and not go home? “That's home, ain’t it?” i irri go straight there.”’ He had a fixation upon it. From Baltimore I got off an urgent tele- i telling her Galt was very tired and insisted on going directly to the country place. Could she meet us at Newark with a motor car? Automobiles were just then coming into Galt with his ardent interest all means s of mechanical Joce te was wedi h was her own. could not have been expecting her, told him nothing about the arrangements slept all the way up from Washington and did not know where we were when we : She helped him into the y were seated he took a second motor behind us, 5 three servants, some luggage Mrs. Galt was a very effi- She had thought of every- situs ition required. It was nearly midnight when we arrived at Moonstool and stopped in front of the They were closed and locked And there was Natalie, who had been sent ahead to announce our coming. out alone, got lost on the way, and had not succeeded in raising anybody when we The place was dark, except for s here and there on piles of con- struction material, i were shirking duty, and those inside, if not i were beyond hearing. Near by was the railroad station of Galt, a black little pile with not a light anywhere. It had not yet been opened for use. water spilling over the pri- enough electricity in the Galt power house to illuminate a town. half a mile distant, in massive silhouette ysky. And here was Galt, in the dark, an unwelcome nighttime stranger, forbid- He was still asleep. were careful not to wake him. with a bull’s-eye lantern and a billy stick exuded from the darkness. On the mountain We wanted to go in. Nobody lives there.’ It is very difficult to account for the im- probable on the plane of a night watchman’s l i First he stolidly disbelieved Then he took refuge in limited respon- **M’orders is t’let nobody in,” *D’ye know anybody aroun’ here? It seemed quite possible that no human being around here would know us. inspirs ation Natalie remembered the super- She kne w where. was vane a day on the job he had taken her home with him to lunch. not more than ten minutes’ drive, she s It was farther than she thought were more than three-quarters of an hour returning with the superintendent. Sweuty minutes more to wake the crew power house and get the chevteictty EVENING POST turned on. Then we drove slowly up the main concrete road, now lighted on each side by clusters of three ground-glass globes on fluted columns fifty feet apart. Although it was finished the road was still cluttered with heaps of sand and débris. Galt all this time was fast asleep, his head resting on Mrs. Galt’s shoulder. We could scarcely wake him when we tried. He seemed drunk with weariness. As we helped him out he opened his eyes once and startled us by saying to the superintendent “Fire that watchman down below,” as if he had been conscious of everything that hap- penec. His eyes closed again, he tottered and we caught him. The superintendent supported him on one side, I on the other, and so he entered, dragging his feet. Natalie knew more about the house than anyone else. She led the way to the apart- ment that was Galt’s, and then left us to place the servants and show them their way around. I helped Mrs. Galt undress him and get him to bed. I was amazed to see how thin and shrunken his body was. He was inert, like a child asleep. Mrs. Galt, very pale, was strong and deft. ‘We must have a doctor at once,’’ she said. “I thought of bringing one and then didn’t because he minds so awfully to have a doctor in.” Still we were not really alarmed. The telephone system had been installed, Natalie knew that. She knew also where the big switchboard was. I telephoned the family physician to meet us at the Hoboken ferry, and then Natalie and I set out to fetch him, a drive of nearly seventy miles there and back. **We ought to do it in two hours,” she said, as we coasted freely—very freely down the lighted cement road and plunged through the gates into darkness. “The doctor must be in his right mind when we deliver him.” I meant it lightly. Her reckless driving was a household topic and she was incorri- gible. But she answered me thoughtfully. ‘We'll make the time going.” She pulled her gloves tighter, took the time, inspected the instruments, switched off the dash light, cut out the muffler, set- tled herself in the seat and opened the throttle wide. It was a four-cylinder high- power engine. The sound we made was that of an endless rip through a linen sheet. Roadside trees turned white, uneasy faces to our headlights. The highway seemed to lay itself down in front of us as we needed it; and there was a feeling that it vanished or fell away into black space behind us. Giddy things such as fences, buildin«s and stone walls were tossed right and left in streaming glimpses. Good motor roads were yet unbuilt. There were short, sharp grades like humps on the roller coaster at the fair. Taking them at fifty miles an hour, at night, when you cannot see the top as you start up, nor all the way down as you begin the plunge, is a wild, liberating sen- sation. Sense of level is lost. One’s center of gravity rises and falls momentously, the heart sloshes around, and you don’t care what happens, not even if you should run off the world. It doesn’t matter. Natalie was in a trancelike rapture. She never spoke. Her eyes were fixed ahead; her body was static. Only her head and arms moved, sometimes her feet to slip the clutch or apply the brake. All that pertains to the pattern of consciousness seeing, hearing, attention, will and will- ing—was strained cutward beyond the windshield, as if externalized, acting out- side of her. What remained on the seat, besides the thrill at the core of her, was her automaticself controlling this lunging, roar- ing mechanism without the slightest effort of thought. The restrained impulses of her nature apparently found their escapement in this form of excitement. It was one thing she could do better than anyone else. She did it superbly and adored doing it. I could not help thinking how Vera would drive, if she drove at all. There was no traffic at that hour of night until we fell in with aoe milk and truck wagons crossing the Hackensack Meadows toward the Hudson River ferries. Natalie cut in and out of that rumbling procession with skill and ease. Her calculations were tight and daring, but never foolhardy. “Very accomplished driving,’’ I said as she pulled up at the ferry with the engine idling softly. “Fifty minutes,”’ she said, a little down on looking at her watch. “I thought we should have done it in forty-five. Don’t you love it at night?” January 28,1922 Dawn was breaking when we returned It gave us a start of apprehension to see the lights still burning in Galt’s apartment We found Mrs. Galt sitting at the side of his bed. Her face was distorted with horror and anxiety. Galt lay just as I had seen him last. “‘He hasn’t moved,” said Mrs. Galt “T can’t arouse him. I’m not sure he is breathing.” Neither was the doctor The p ilse was imperceptible. A glass held at his nostrils showed no trace of moisture. All the bod- ily functions were in a state of suspense The only presumption of life lay in the general arbitrary fact that he was not dead. The doctor had never seen anything like this before. He was afraid to act without a consultation. Motors were sent off for four other doctors, two in New Jersey and two in New York. They would bring nurses with them. Mrs. Galt could not be moved from the bedside. Natalie telephoned Vera to come. I tele- phoned Mordecai. Then we walked up and down the eastern terrace and watched the sun come up. She stopped and leaned over the parapet, looking down. Her eyes were dry; her body shook with convulsive move- ments. My heart went forth. I put my arm around her . She stood up, gazed at me with a stricken expression, th en dropped her head on tay shoulder and wept, whis- pering, ‘“‘Coxey, Coxey, oh, what shal l we do? What shall we do?” Gangs of workmen were appearing be- low. The day of labor was about to begin. I left her to get the superintendent on the telephone and tell him to suspend work. XXX HE consultation began at nine o’clock Mordecai arrived while it was taking place. Somehow on the way he had picked up Vera. They came together. We waited in the library room of Galt’s apartment. At the end of an hour the five doctors came to us, looking very grave. The Galts’ fam- ily doctor announced the consensus. It was a stroke, with some very unusual as- pects. Life persisted; the thread of it was extremely fine, almost invisible. It might snap at any moment, and they wouldn’t know it until some time afterward. Thin as it was, however, it might pull him back. There was a bare possibility that he would recover consciousness. Meanwhile there was very little that could be done. Mordecai rose from his chair with a colos- sal, awful gesture. His eyes were staring. His face was like a mask. His head turned slowly right and left through half a circle with a weird, mechanical movement, as a thing turning on a pivot in a fixed plane. “*Zey haf kilt him!”’ he whispered. “All ov you I call upon to vitness, zey haf kilt him. Zey could nod ruin him Za zey tried todo. But—zey haf kilt him! Ve are vonce more in ze Dark Ages.”’ The physicians were astonished and ill at ease They did not know what he was talking about. They did not know who he was. I was the only one who could know what he meant, and for a minute I was bewildered. Then it broke upon me The combat reconstructed itself in my mind. I recalled those days of strain and anguish when all the forces of Wall Street were acting to destroy him and he fought alone. He withstood them. In the might of his own strength, in that moment which it had been torture almost unendurable to bide the coming of, he smote his enemies “with the fist of wickedness”’ and scattered them away. Yes, all that. He had won the fight. Yet there ae lay. His death ee leave them in possession of the field, with a victory unawares. They meant only to break his power, to unloose his hands, to overthrow him as an upstart dynast. But the blood weapon which we think is put away, which they never meant and would not have dared to use —it had done its work in spite of them. They could not break him. They had only killed him. That was what Mordecai meant. Well, we had to wait. Life must wait upon death because it can. There was much to think about. Mordecai spent two hours with me making precise arrange- ments against any contingency. It was very important that Wall Street should know nothing about Galt’s condition. The news might cause a panic. I was to call him up at regular intervals by a direct tele- phone wire on which no one could listen in. If any rumor got out it should be met with blank silence. (Continued on Page 28) — |

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A ATTIC I a in ra! oS = SS a ee ee - 2 me ge ~~ Ser Se a. ree, oe a THE SATURDAY EVENING POST A New Standard of Motor Car Value Established by Cadillac Prices The deep and widespread satisfaction of the public in the substantially-reduced prices of the New ‘Type 61, confirms us in the belief that the Cadillac sets an entirely new standard of motor car value. Tourimg Car Phaeton Roadster Two Passe nge? Victoria hn ¢ Passe NYE Sedan Suburban / IM dus Me > Uupre ( pr Imp , fal / PMOL S 1 The New Type 61 reveals important betterments in the elements which make for the world-leadership of the Cadillac. he lowered prices, we believe, fortify its position as the world’s strongest motor car investment. The vital and special import of the new prices lies in the fact that they constitute a reduction in the price of the new Cadillac—the identical New Type 61 conceded to be the ereatest Cadillac these manufactories have ever produced. CARISLAS MOTOR . A 2 CAR COMPAN oe * Standard of the \ DE TROUI MICHIGAN i World

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Do you write checks that endanger your bank balance? Safety Insured bank checks provide posi- tive check security. Why? Because these are “The World's Safest Checks,’ positively protec ted by insurance against the haz- ards of loss through fraudulent alterations. Super Thousands of good banks give them to depositors, and also furnish individual $1,000.00 bonds to each customer without charge. Why take ANY risk with other checks? Ask your banker, or write us for the wi name of one 10 will gladly accommo- date you. LOOK FOR THE EAGLE DESIGN ON EVERY CHECK YOU SIGN Protected by individual bonds of he American Guaranty Company These checks are the safest you can use $1,000.00 of check insurance against fraudulent alterations, issued without charge, covers each user against loss I he Bankers S Supply & ompany The Largest Manufacturers of Bank Checks in the World CHICAGO DENVER DES MOINES SAN FRANCISCO NEW YORK ATLANTA | says so with his eyes. (Continued from Page 26) “‘Zey vill vind id zoon oud no matter,” he said. What he needed was a little time to pre- pare the financial structure for the immi- nent shock, He would inform his associates and such others as were entitled to know, and together they would agree upon pro- tective measures. Galt’s death was bound to produce a terrific convulsion. There is no line of succession in Wall Street, no hereditary prince to receive the crown. When the monarch falls the wail is, “The king is dead! There is no king!” About ten o’clock in the morning of the second day Galt opened his eyes. He could neither move nor speak, but he was vividly conscious. Mrs. Galt came to the room where I had established a work sta- tion, to tell me this. ‘He wants something,” she said. “‘He I think it is you he wants,” His eyes expressed pleasure at seeing me. Not a muscle moved. He could see and hear and think, and that was all. He did want something. I guessed a number of things and he looked them all away. It wasn't Mordecai. It wasn’t anything in relation to business. In this dilemma I remembered a game we played in child- hood. It was for one of the players to hold in his mind any object on earth and for the other to identify it by asking questions up to twenty that had to be answered yes or no. Galt’s eyes could say yes and no and he could hear; therefore anything he was thinking of could be found out. I explained the game to him; he instantly understood, and we began. Was the thing a mineral substance? He did not answer. Was it vegetable? He did not answer, Was it ani- mal then? Still no answer, but a bothered look in his eyes. I stopped to wonder why he hadn’t answered yes or no to one of the three. Was it perhaps something mineral, vegetable and animal combined? His eyes lighted, saying yes. Was it in this room? No. Was it far away? No. Was it just outside? Yes. I went to the window and looked out. In every direction below the level of the finished terrace was the sight of construc- tion work in a state of suspense, heaps of materials, tools where they had fallen, power machinery idle. A thought occurred tome. I went back and looked in his eyes. “*We've had all the work stopped because of the noise. Do you wish it to go on? Is that what you want?” ““Yes,”’ he answered with a flash of his eyes, Two hours later the air was vibrant with the clank-clank of many steam drills, the screech of taut hoisting cables, the throb of donkey engines, the roar of rock blast- ing, and he was happy. Incidentally the resumption of work served Mordec ‘ai’s purpose in an unexpected way. Rumor of Galt’s illness did get out. The ne wspapers began to telephone. Un- | able to get information in that way they thought it must be serious and sent report- ers out in haste. They returned to their offices saying they couldn’t get a word out of us, but Galt couldn’t be very ill so long as all that uproar was permitted to go on. A week passed in this way. One evening on my return from an urgent trip to New York, Natalie came racing down the great hall to meet me, with a flying slide at the end, as in the old days she was wont to meet Galt; and whether she meant it quite ormiscale nul: ited thedistance, Idonotknow; but anyhow I had either to let her go by off her balance or catch her, and she landed in my arms, “Oh, Coxey, he’s asking for you,”’ she said, getting her feet and dragging me along atarun. “He's better all at once. He can talk.” The faculty of speech was gradually re- stored. When he could talk freely he told us that he had been conscious all the while, day and night. He heard every word that was spoken at the consultation. Therefore he had more expert opinion on his condi- tion than we had. He had kept count of time. He knew what day it was when he first opened his eyes, and since then in his sleep he had been continuously conscious. He felt no pain. xXxxI ND now began the last phase of his career. Lying there in that state, un- able so much as to raise his hand, with a mind all but disembodied, he intended his thoughts to the passion that ruled him still. The doctors warned him that it would be extremely dangerous to exercise his mind. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST It would cause the thread of life to part. That made no difference. What was the thread of life for? Three timesa week Mordecai came to talk with him. These visits, beginning naturally as between friends, soon became confer- ences of a conse que ntial character between principaland banker. They examined prob- lems, discussed measures, evolved policies and spent hours, sometimes whole days, together. Mordecai became Galt’s self objectified. He executed his will, promul- gated his ideas, represented him in all situ- ations. He sat for him at board meetings and in general Wall Street councils. This became soon an institutional fact. No business of a high nature proceeded far in Wall Street until Mordecai was asked “What does Mr. Galt say?” or ‘“ What would Mr. Galt think?” A paralyzed hand ruled the world finance. Galt’s mind was clear and insatiable. It comprehended both details and principles. He directed minutely the expenditure of that five hundred millions and verified his own prophecy. The outlay of this vast sum upon railroad works averted a period of industrial depression. I remained permanently at Moonstool. The room in which at first I had established merely a point of contact with the outside world to meet such emergencies as might arise became a regular office. We installed nc tela agro machines and direct tele- phones. Stock Exchange quotations were received by a priv: ite telegraph wire. We had prese ntly a staff of clerks, typ ists and statisticians, all living in the house and keeping hours, The personnel of this singular organiza- tion included one fresco painter. More than anything else Galt missed his maps and charts. A map of any portion of the earth’s surface enthralled him. The act of gazing at it stimulated his thoughts. And statistical charts—those diagrams in which quantities and ratios are symbolized by lines that rise and fall in curves—these were to him what mathematical sym- bols are to an astronomer. He could not think easily without them. We had tried various devices for getting maps and charts before him, and they were all unsatisfac- tory. One day he said: “I can look at the ceiling and walls without effort. Why not put them there?” But we could not get maps large enough to show from the ceiling, and there was a similar difficulty about charts, even though we drew them ourselves. Then we thought of painting them. We found a fresco painter possessing the rudiments of the peculiar kind of intelligence required for such work and then trained him to it. We painted a map of the world in two hemispheres on the ceiling. The United States had to be carefully put in, with the Great Midwestern system showing in bold red lines. On the walls we painted statisti- eal charts to the number of eight. Several were permanent, such as the one showing the combined earnings of the Galt railroad properties, and another the state of general business. They had only to be touched up from time to time as new statistics came in. Others were ephemeral, serving to illus- trate some problem his mind was working on. They were frequently painted out and new ones put in their place. Under these conditions, gazing for hours at the world map, he conceived a project which was destined to survive him in the formofanidea. Ifhehadlivedit might have been realized. This was a pan-American railroad—a vertical system of land trans- portation articulating the North and South American continents. It was painted there on the ceiling. Mordecai saw it and wept. How easily the mind accommodates it- self to any situation! In . short time all this seemed quite natural, because it was taking place. Having accepted Galt as a dynast in the flesh, Wall Street now ac- cepted him as an invisible force pervading all its affairs, as if it might go on that way forever. Through Mordecai it solicited his advice and opinion on matters that were not his. Once Mordecai brought him the problem of a railroad that was in trouble; he bought the railroad to save it from bank- ruptcy. People, seeing this, began to think he was not ill at all but preferred to work in a mysterious manner. Great Midwest- ern stock meanwhile was rising, always rising, and touc *hed at last the fabulous price of three hundred dollars a share. Faith in it now was as unreasoning as dis- trust of it had once been January 28,1922 Galt entertained no thought of malice toward his old enemies. Proof of this was dramatic and unexpecte od. A servant came up one afternoon with the name of Bull- guard. I could hardly believe it. I found him standing in the middle of the hall, just inside the door, a large impenetrable figure, giving one the impression of immovable purpose. I had never seen him before. “T wish to see Mr. Galt,” he said in a voice like a tempered north wind. ““Nobody sees him, you know.” ““T must see him,” he replied. “T will ask him. Is it a matter of busi- ness?’’ “It is very personal,”’ he said. The way he said this gave me suddenly a glimpse of his hidden character. Beneath that terrifying aspect, back of that glower- ing under which strong men quailed, lay more shy, human gentleness than would be easily imagined. Galt received him. They were alone to- gether for a full hour. What passed be- tween them will never be known. I waited in the library room, one removed from Galt’s bedchamber, and saw Bullguard leave. He passed me unawares, looking straight ahead of him as one in a hypnotic trance. Outside he forgot his car and went stalking down the drive in that same unsee- ing manner, grasping a great thick walking stick at the middle and waving it slowly before his ‘ace. His car followed and picked him up somewhere out of sight. One of the minor triumphs of this time was the collapse of the social feud. Mrs. Valentine’s subjects began to revolt. Soci ety made definite overtures to the Galt women. But nobody now cared. Mrs. Galt and Natalie lived only for Galt, and they were the two who would in any case be interested. Mrs. Galt was his silent companion. Natalie was his Mercury, go- ing errands swiftly between his bedchamber and the office. She was absorbed in what went on, and a good deal of it she under- stood in an imaginative manner. Coming with a message from Galt, per- haps a request for information or data, she would often sit at my desk to hear or see the results, saying, “‘I feel so stupid when I don’t know what it means.”’ In the eve- ning, as we might be walking or driving together, she would review the transactions of the day and get them all explained. Vera lived in New York at her studio, but came often to Moonstool. Her engage- ment to Lord Porteous was renewed. She spoke to me about it one evening on the west terrace, after sunset. “You were right about Lord —_ ous,” she said. ‘‘He refused from the beginning to consider our engagement broken.” “Of course,” I said. That was evidently not what she e xpecte od me to say. She gave me a slow, sidewise look. “T’m very glad,” I added, making it worse. We took several turns in silence. ‘Why are you glad?”’ she asked in a tone she seldom used. “Tsn’t that what I should say? I was thinking I don’t know what I was thinking—nor why I am glad.” We stood for a long time a little apart, watching the afterglow. She shivered “T am cold,” she said. ‘‘Let’s go in, please.”’ XXXII HE next day, in the midst of a confer- ence with Mordecai, Galt’s eyes closed The doctor was in the house. He shook his head knowingly. There followed a fortnight of horrible suspense. Most of the time we did not know at a given moment whether he was alive or dead. Once for three days he did not open his eyes and we thought it was over. Then he looked at us again and we knew he had been conscious all the time. Thefaculty ofspeech neverreturned. There would be a rumor that he was dead, and prices would fall on the Stock Exchange; then a rumor that he wasn’t, and prices would rise again. The newspapers estab- lished a death watch in the private Galt station and kept reporters there day and night to flash the news away. To keep them from the house I had to promise them solemnly that I would send word down promptly if the fatality happened. Mrs. Galt and Natalie watched alter- nately. One or the other sat at his bedside all the time. One evening about eight o’clock I was sharing the vigil with Natalie, when Galt opened his eyes. We were sit- ting on opposite sides of his bed. He looked (Continued on Page 30) ‘

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Assures quick start | {; ing and smooth, full-powered pulling. | But be sure you get the genuine are many imitations. Look for * on shell and | there {| the name “ Milwaukee brush assembly. Sold by auto supply and hardware dealers everywhere. Retail price, $2.00 (west of Rocky Mts., $2.10) } / | | Milwaukee Motor Products, Inc. to Kagine & Supply « } Wisconsin | | | Formerty Milwaukee A Milwaukee, A special method of sealing and anchoring the contact points in their machine-cut grooves makes this timer ‘short-circuit proof || times, if. that may be understood. | quick breavn of admiration. For THE SATURDAY (Continued from Page 28) from one of us to the other slowly, several times, and then fixed a wanting expression on me. I knew what he wanted without asking. Natalie knew also. It concerned us deeply, uniting our lives, yet at that moment we were hardly conscious of ourselves. What thrilled us was the thought of something we should do for him because he wanted it. I put out my hand to her across the bed. She clasped it firmly. “This is what you mean?” I said. ““Yes,”’ he answered. A flood of recollection swept through me. I saw Natalie all the way back to girlhood, to that night of our first meeting in her father’s house. I could not remember when I had not loved her. I saw every- thing that had happened between us, saw it in sunlight, aan wondered how I could have been so unaware. Trifling incidents, almost forgotten, became suddenly lumi- nous, precious and significant. And this instant had been from the beginning ap- pointed! Natalie, still clasping my hand, leaned far over and gazed intently into his eyes, “You want me to marry Coxey?”’ she asked in a tone of caressing anxiety, which seemed wholly unconscious of me, almost excluding. “Yes,"’ he answered, repeating it several The EVENING POST answer lingered in his eyes. Then they closed, as ponderous gates swing to, against his utmost will, and they never opened again. He was buried in the side of Moonstool. All his great enemies came to assist at the obsequies. Bullguard was one of the pall- bearers. After the funeral the family returned to the Fifth Avenue house. Though I took up a permanent abode elsewhere, my apart- ment was still there and I came and went almost as one of the household. The more I saw of Natalie the stranger and more distant she was. Her behavior was incomprehensible. She was friendly, often tender, always solicitous, but kept a wall of constraint between us. She posi- tively refused to talk of our engagement and came to the point where she denied there was any such thing. When I pro- posed to cure that difficulty in a very ob- vious way she took refuge in fits of perverse and willful unreasonableness. She would spend a whole evening in some inaccessible mood and become herself only for an in- stant at the last. Suddenly they resolved to travel. She persuaded her mother to it. “Then we won’t see Coxey for a long, long time,” she said one evening at dinner; ‘and maybe he will miss us.” They went around the world. Her let- ters were friendly, sprightly, teasing, and January 28,1922 very unsatisfactory. She would not be serious. At last Galt’s posthumous affairs began to settle so that I could leave them, and I immediately set out in a westerly direction, intending to meet Mrs. Galt and Natalie in the Orient on surprise. I missed them in China, because they had revised their schedule and gone to Japan. In Japan I missed them again because they were suddenly homesick and cut their sojourn short. We crossed the Pacific a week apart. They stopped only four days in San Francisco, so I missed them there. Then I telegraphed Natalie what I had been doing. Four months had passed with- out a word of news between us. On arriving in New York I went directly to the Fifth Avenue house. As I rang the bell a feeling of desolation assailed me. The absurd thought rose that she somehow knew of my pursuit and had purposely defeated it. She was downstairs, sitting alone before the fireplace in the reception hall, reading. She dropped her book and ran toward me, rather at me, slid the last ten feet of it with her head down, her arms flung wide, and welcomed me with a hearty hug. “Are we?” I asked, holding her “Coxey, silly dear! All this time we have been.” (THE END) THE HEAVIER WEIGHT imported collies come to him; and the ob- ject of his bellowings had merely yawned in most insolent fashion and had strolled away. Collies as a breed have reduced insolence to a fine art, for the benefit of those whom they do not care for. It is true, the Beldencroft dogs obeyed Roke, and obeyed him with suspicious promptitude. But as they came at the kennel manager’s call they had a way of flattening themselves on their stomachs and of crawling thus the last few steps of the journey to his feet. There was, too, a look in their eyes at such times that would have sickened the best type of collie fancier and would have made such a fan- cier’s fist itch to come in contact with the whip-and-toe-wielding kennel manager’s | jaw. Belden leaned forward, snapping his saying at the ‘Come fleshy fingers at the collie, same time with loud cordiality, * here, old boy! Come along!” Bobby had thrust his nose affectionately into Jamie’s cupped hand. Now, at the booming call of Belden, the dog lifted his classic head toward the visitor, surveyed him with coldly inquiring eyes, then de- liberately turned his back on him and sat down. “*He’s—he’s what they call a one-man dog, sir,’’ explained Mackellar, in wriggling excuse for his chum’s rudeness. “‘ He don’t take up much with strangers. Bobby boy! Go over to the gentleman, and stand there!” At the order Bobby got to his feet, though without the eager speed that had accompanied his first reply to Jamie's call. With lofty reluctance he paced slowly across the room and came to a halt in front of Belden. There he stood, statuelike, the mellow radiance of the table lamp bringing out every tiniest detail of his magnificent body and head. Gazing, drew in a more he had been Rufus G. Belden than a year, in off hours, | making a close study of collie show points. And he was already enough of a connois- seur to realize that this dog posing in front of him was one of the really great collies of America, if not of the world. There was a majestic beauty and sym- metry about Bobby that seemed to go beyond mere points. From the perfectly chiseled muzzle and expression-filled eyes and small tulip ears, to the heavily plumed brush, there was not an inch of him that did not spell superperfection. For perhaps a full minute Rufus G. | surveyed the dog, his fat and florid face a poker mask. Then he inquired tersely, “How much?” Jamie blinked questioningly. Recalling tales of Scotch shrewdness in bargaining | Belden misread the look. | elaborate simplicity, “ I am asking you,” he explained with “*how much you want (Continued from Page 13) for the dog. I like him. And I'll pay you a fair price for him. How much?” “Lochinvar Bobby is not for sale, sir,’ said Jamie, steadying his voice. ‘‘ Lochin- var Bobby is my chum. He’s no more for sale than one of my children would be. But I thank you for the compliment, none the less. “Come, come!’ laughed Rufus G., stretching out lazily in his chair and making as if to stroke Bobby’s ruff—an attention from which the collie drew away in digni- fied haste. ‘‘Come, come, man! Just for- get for a minute that your folks hailed from Scotland, and stop haggling. Name a price. Of course it will be an exorbitant price. Everyone stings a rich man. If the post office wasn’t run by Uncle Sam its clerks would charge me half a dollar apiece for every two-cent stamp I buy. So I’m braced to hear you put a national-debt figure on the tike. And the chances are that I won’t pay it. But name a sum any- how. Then we'll have a starting point. How much?” Meantime Jamie had once more mastered himself, and was saying mildly: ‘I’m not haggling, Mr. Belden. I am glad the dog pleases you. But he is not for sale. He and I are chums. If I can’t make you be- lieve that, and if I can’t make you under- stand that I'm in earnest, I’m sorry. There was gentleness in the soft tones, but there was also finality. Nor was there a tinge of awe or of favor currying for the city’s mightiest man. And Rufus G.—so long accustomed to servility that it affected him somewhat as might a fourth helping of ice cream—was almost as pleased by the novelty as he was piqued by this balking of one of his seldom-balked whims. “Just as you say,” he assented with un- shaken joviality. ‘There are as many ways of buying what I want as there are ways ‘of cooking eggs. Because the simplest of those ways won't get across—well, let it go at that. I was interested in the dog because of what Roke has told me about him and be- cause he won against such a stiff field at Westminster. And now that I’ve seen him he’s twice as good as I expected. But we'll come back to him another time. What ought dog feed to cost?” Jamie’s worried lack of comprehension as to his guest’s awkwardly cryptic words about Bobby melted in the interest of this new theme. “Why, sir,”’ he said, ‘‘you can spend a fortune in feeding a kennel of collies. Or you can do it for a bottom price and still keep your dogs in A 1 condition. More die from overfeeding than from underfeeding. Just like folks. You can get plate meat, at wholesale, for three or four cents the pound, sometimes for much less. You can buy butcher scraps for almost nothing, and stale broken bread for little more. There are other parts of meat and bone that cost a song, by wholesale. Then, with skim milk, and odds and ends of vegetables, and perhaps a little patent food now and then, and a knack for cooking up your combina- tion—why, each of your dogs oughtn’t to cost you as much as a dollar a week; at very most. Maybe not much more’n a half of that. Especially if you own a cow. And i ““H’m!” cut in Belden, as if dismissing a subject that did not interest him. ‘‘ Roke is a thrifty young man. It won’t be his fault if he starves. I always enjoy ~— his bills. I'll enjoy it more after this. It’s real delight to be rich. I make otc around me so happy~—whether I want to or not. Ever see my Beldencroft Chieftain? Big rangy young sable. Plain face. True Hector-Stirling blend. Bred him myself. Eleven months old now. Best pup I’ve been able to breed, so far. By my imported Seedley Sabbatical, out of = “IT know the pup you mean, sir. I’ve never seen him. But didn’t he get Winners’ last month at Akron? A nice pup, from all accounts.” ““You’ve said it,” “Took Winners’ at enough to take Winners’ at the westburg Show next week.” He spoke carelessly; nor did he seem to note the sudden ramrod stiffness that came into Jamie’s backbone and features. “Yep,” prattled on Rufus G. *‘ He’s easy good for Winners’ at Midwestburg next week.” “Excuse me, sir,”’ interposed Jamie with an odd iciness in his low voice. ‘‘ Excuse me. But you perhaps don’t know I am to judge collies vat the Midwestburg. So, of course, I can’t dise uss “That ay now,” pursued Belden, to- tally ignoring the hint; “there’s a funny bit of history about him. At least not about him at all, but about a dog he’s due to meet there. Ever hear of Willard UI- rich’s new imported collie, Greencourt Golden Boy?” ‘Yes, sir,’”’ said Jamie, the ice still in his voice and his eyes. “I’ve read about him. I never saw him.” “No? Well, you will next week. He's entered for the Midwestburg. I tried to buy Golden Boy as soon as I heard how he cleaned up at the Crystal Palace Show in London. I cabled his owner as soon as I read it. Offered him six thousand dollars for the dog. And what does Ulrich do but cable him, three days later than I did, and offer sixty-four hundred dollars. Ulrich got him. He got him over my head. Out- bid me. Got the best of Rufus G. Belden the little New York shrimp! No man ever yet did that and got away with it. I hear he’s joking about it; laughing at me for losing out, after I cabled first! That isn’t on the free list.” He paused, his eyes clouding like some cranky child’s, his fat lips twisting pee- vishly. Then he went on: ‘I’m going to beat Golden Boy at every show he goes to if I’ve (Continued on Page 33) approved Belden. Akron. And good big Mid- : |) | f hi {y { | adi f z=, — > a yew ree eee a Se | (el aa = — = Ee Ee a ee - a os ee i} i ta Pea SE Se eee ee ge

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—1_— - —a TAKE UP Blueprint sketch and insert photograph of G Belt in service at the dock of the Zenith Furnace Company, Duluth, Minnesota Six Years of Service—and the G. T. M. Se a ee Ti Pe ey The first service given on meas, tn EP, Po on His original recommendation: THE SATURDAY EVENING POST SPECIFIED:- GDODYEAR BELT 54'—// PLY CONVEYOR BUILT TO MEET CONDITIONS 32 OZ. DUCK — %2 TOP, 46’ PULLEY COVER MATERIAL- B/TUM/NOUS COAL SPEED —— 500 FT. PER MIN. CAPAC/TY /200 TONS PER HOUR INSTALLED —APARIL 28, /9/6 AMOUNT OF MATERIAL CARRIED TO DATE -2500000 TONS ZEN/TH FURNACE COMPANY UE Mili dad LOADING HOPPERS wae Se 7 a ; KK XS OCS — 60" 63” T. M. specified Goodyear Conveyor One of the best examples of the sincere service which is fur p nished on Goodyear Belts before, during and after applica tion is offered in the story of the Goodyear Conveyor Belt of the Zenith Furnace Duluth, Minnesota In both age and tonnage, under Company, of making its present record fo the severe climatic conditions it is called on to endure, this great belt has had the benefit of a scientific service that is } exclusively Goodyear in kind and quality. this belt was provided before the belt The G. T. N Goodyear Technical Man Zenith Furnace conveying proble m and operating conditions. He itself was built. began it with his study of the Company s noted the requirement for speed in the unloading of coal from the ship arriving at the Company's dock—ships that value their time of $1 O00 per Oo hour day! He calculated on a demurrage basi the effect of the sudden atmo pheri changes to which the belt would be exposed together with the cold of the Northern , fits , winter through which it must lie idle. illed for aspecially constructed " : D1 1) Goodyear Conveyor Belt that would cut the unloading time f , “o , , : in half, withstand the severe weather conditions, stand up } , " under the abrasive action of the coal, save time, save labor, Save money. \ 4 3) 4 a OO) A 0) 5 Goodyear Service attended the application year engineers were present installation, seeing toit that everything v for its most efhcient operation Now this belt has ser, ed through ix 2,500,000 tons of coal uperintendent ‘ ollins and Dock Manager Applehagen of the Zenith Furnace ¢ ompany say it has returned its first cost many times over in the money it has save ] [The y belie ve it is good for se\ ral s¢ isons to come Its condition today 1 uch that it cove! tock, taking the brunt of the abrasive action hows less than 15 ot wear To the watchful and capable service of the G.1 given a larg hare tf e credit tor ‘ belt performance He has in pected it regularly it Trequent il In operation wit! rt. Col he | i¢ estion al te i ertori ( r rati ! , life nad t increase efhicienc\ i] t ly t of his vigilant eff I to to ft t for its « ers all t ' hue it int t The service on this belt : h e Goodyear fur n on ever Ly ear ‘ ission Belt [his Goodyea l i I lor t t r informati about ( ) 1) tt by The ¢ lyear Tire & R with the ¢ seasons it has « irried STORAGE ” TANDEM DRIVE 6063" LAGGED 200 H.P. MOTOR of this belt. Good- rT. M , »perly arranged during the is pri | M. must be

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST January 28,1922 a Advanced /tyle and mechanical excellence happily combined in an exceptionally fine car Built Here's a car for lovers of out- doors—for those of luxurious habit —for those who covet distinction. Resplendent in royal Versailles blue — grace in every line — wearing its shinitg silver lamps and gleaming radiator like a queen’s tiara. Such patient care and thought are expressed in every little refinement such complete mastery of engi neering fundamentals. A half cen- tury ago Moon craftsmen began to learn fine coach-building — for fifteen years Moon engineers have been studying automobile design and practice — American and foreign. Luxurious! Silk-finished, im ported broadcloth upholstery and trimming in soft blue tones that harmonize perfectly with the body color. Carpeted in blue wool thick, soft Wilton type. Cozy blue silk curtains. All mouldings of b y M oon Motor Car € hardwood beautifully satin ebon- ized. Hardware of special design. Home comfort in the seats those deep, soft lounges. A dome light and two reading lamps sound the home note again. A _ perfect heater, too—an adjustable foot-rest -what more could the coziest cor- ner of your sitting room give you? And your dressing table can travel with you in the dainty vanity cases. All doors are exceptionally wide. They invite you in—discharge you gracefully. The windows are a joy in their quick, effortless responsive- ness to any adjustment. English- Mersicks heavy bolt locks eliminate noise and rattle. Now give a thought to the driver — supreme master of his car. The telltales on Founded the instrument board beneath his eyes are shining sentinels over every function of the mechanism. And at last a really -— rain-proof wind- shield —an exclu- sive Moon design | H cee with no blind | /Li / || angles to obstruct -“=="S— vision—and a a sun visor as stand- “——1_____ ard equipment. Lamps—the newest snare-drum type, easily adjusted to any desired angle. A final word to the wise. Avoid the obvious—shun the common- place—seek to know more about the Moon Sedan. Fully equipped, the ouring Car and the 3-passenger Sport Roadster are priced at $1785. The 4-passenger Coupé, the 5-passenger Petite Sport Sedan and the 5-passenger Sedan at $2785, f. 0. b ‘ ' ; ll St. Louis ne Nor of all 5“ passenger standard body « models is Versailles blue. You can get true +! yet wonderful pictures of them all in the photographi brochure if you'll just write for it 1907 Joseph W eee eee eee eee eee eee ee ee ee eee ee eee Moon a

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* a I NT BARE OCG Continued from Page 30 got to’ buy up the whole collie output of both continents to do it. I’m going to keep him from getting his American champion- ship. I'll have at least one collie better than he is at every show he goes to. I’m going to make that New York butter-in think he has blown sixty-four hundred dollars on a piece of cheese. I’m going to do it if it costs me a half million dollars. I can do it too. I’ve got a collie in mind that can win over anything else I’ve ever seen. I’m going to get him. But I can’t get him just yet. And, anyhow, it’d be too late to transfer ownership in time for the Mid- westburg. The best I can put against Golden Boy, there, is my Beldencroft Chieftain. Chieftain is the better dog far and away the better dog. " He spoke with truculent authority. Jamie made no reply. ; ‘I’m saying,” growled Belden wit arrogance, “ dog.” ‘I heard you,’ responded Mackellar frigidly. ‘‘And I’m hoping you also heard me when I said I am to judge collies at that show, and that I can’t discuss the entries beforehand with anyone “Rot!” scéifed Belden, forcing a return to his former joviality ‘Dp’ you know how I made my pile? I didn’t try finesse and diplomacy and all th at sort of piffe. Wher I wanted a thing I went and got it. I went at it with my head down and both fists working overtime. And I smashed through to the thing I was after. That's still my way, till somebody can show me a better.” He laughed very loudly indeed, and stared hard at Jamie. But Mackellar might have been carved out of rough stone. Lean- ing toward his little host Belden laid one am- ple forefinger on the Scot’s wizened chest. “Get this!”’ said he with a sudden au- thority that somehow impressed the deeply offended Mackellar and turned his ness to perturbation. ‘Get this! earer to diplomacy than I generally bother to try for. If I wanted to make sure of dog of mine winning, d’you know wha do? First of all I'd find out who was to judge. Then I'd find out all I could about that judge. If he had a weakness or a blac spot in him I'd find it. If he had the name of being square and I couldn't rea hi any other ay I'd look into hi is a bi hing, but the la 1 sight bigger.” Sat spe¢ ch less, his br the mists his } h hot that my Chieftain is the better ig voice of Rufus G. found he was Sw and out, had mortgages plastered over everythings and had big expenses and hard luck — we first of all I’d stick him deeper into debt. Into debt to me. So a he couldn't climb out So dee} that he couldr pay for the keep of his sick wife and kid with out the money he owed. So deep that he’d be turned inside out and smashed flat if his debts were called in. So deep that hi chattel mortgage would include every stick and wheel and every item of livestock he owned. Then I'd say to a certain lawyer: ‘Well done, Ellis, my friend!’ Then I'd have Scally tie the man up with a forfeit clause in a contract he os in’t keep with- out his mortgaged truck nd then x. d go to this judge and I'd say Pe him Jamie Mackellar leaped to his feet with 1 force that upset his rickety chair and brought the drowsing Bobby to his side with a bound. Scrambling at top speed to the front door the little man flung it wide with a bang. Wheeling on the placidly observing Bel den, he shrilled in wild Gaelic fury: ‘‘Get out of here! Get out, I’m telling you!” In no way impressed, Rufus G. lolled back in his chair and fingered a cigar ““As soon as you get all that honest in- dignation out of your system,”’ he soothed, ‘we'll come down to brass tacks. I’ve no wish to foreclose on you, man. Do the right th ing by me at the Midwestburg and at other shows, and I'll do the right thing by you. But I have you in a very tidy littl hole. And ‘chattel mortgage’ means Loch- invar Bobby, you know, along with the rest. The dog I’m going to block Golden Boy with at later shows. Now suppose we talk like grown men and not like two ‘I’ve told you twice to get out of he re!" foamed Mackellar, his shrill voice at last breaking through the rumbling volume of Belden’s speech. ‘‘Go now while you can go safe. If I use force on you ie The-big man’s laugh broke in on his sputterings. Rising in leisurely fashion to his full six feet of broad-shouldered height THE SATURDAY Rufus G dri awled, “By force, eh? Son, do you want your sample-sized body squashed as flat as your finances?” Jamie was dead-white with a wrath that made him shake as with a hard chill. Turn- ing to the excited dog at his side he whis- pered pantingly, “Bobby! Bobby lad! Take him! Before the command was fairly voiced a tawny streak hurtled through mid-air like a flung spear. Before Rufus G. Belden could step aside, almost before his right arm could be raised instinctively to defend his tl roat, Lochinvar Bobby's seventy pounds of whalebone muscle crashed against his broad chest. Aiming for the fat throat encounter- ing the instinctively upflung forearm, the dog’s terrible fangs sheared their way through the fur sleeve of the overcoat, through the sleeves of coat and silken shirt beneath, and to the pudgy flesh itself. r the impact Belden reeled bac! ward, shouting and gobbling in terror ‘atching his heel on a rung of the chair m betwee he had so lazily arisen he top- hingly to the floor, bringing the : doun under him. Gebiee, in wild-beast fashion, ravened he thick throat of his victim. “Then through the din came again tl tod whisper, “‘Enough, Bobby tch him!” ‘ antly the splendid dog drew from his writhing and bellowing prey stood over the man in tense eagernes made no move to attack Belden prawl, his reddened little eyes now or giant dog above him, now or . ill held wide the door >» going?” de n ng,” gur gled i] lim up, sobby ting hi g dog mouthed, | have a little ton 1. A little ‘ve rs > wher with blood? No? Well, He was gone. Jan 1e stood him, paraly zed and spent Macke ‘ ¢ up into hi ind longing for ¢ \ ire him that Macl rouble was past. it no word or gli ine er a while Jam into righted the himself dow: low, with his h: sides and ' ftl rowful eyes la face The fire died down. Th utter. The silence lay heavy y increasin g cold crept And still Mackellar big bronze-and-snow vigil. t Jamie stirred ever so arose and stood faci: tant. The pe d into the dull face ca expression. ‘Bobby!”’ groaned Mack heard it. You heard it all. Y« he said. And—and you heard to you about the rawhide, he said that I could ’a’ curse calling you off him before 1 fi him. He—he shan’t have you, Bobby! shan’t have our house, either. He sl get the truck and make me forfeit to Scally. And he shan’t make Elspeth and mistres come home only half cured, to get sick all over again from living in one wee room somewhere, and eating one meal a day til i I get work enough to keep ‘em. He shan’t, Bobby! It'd mean the death of them. Just as it’d be the breaking of all I’ve built up; and the loss of you, Bobby. He—heshan’t!” EVENING POST nd laid |} ful head on his master’s knee. The misery in Jamie’s voice went through like hot nome And he ( — t ae) -art-crushed y Mackellar spoke again ne vie .B ob i listened a nderstand, ‘It’s to be weighed, Bob by “Tt's to be omnes. i this kittle-ks nd, Bobby, I's 7 en We The dog whimpered a | and close I've be weighing hour. Weighing it to the |: here’s what it come oh, but it’s fine to Bobby; and I ne } le of debt tha 1 take an strip me 7 everyt Elspeth and mistress they need lots of well again. Thing I'll have no money to maunder to wher Bobby. And I’m like if he does what rawhide Why a blow! You'd n you. It'd turn my brute All licked one of Macke ands and whined under Then the dronir g voice ilvage a wee called ° I spect,” Bobby worth the price Not ever old soul was to be toss Pain is ‘ena arudae wherev iving the Into the ring, af i Open Sable-and-W hité ; dogs here, two of them rst glance Mi ackellar’ j te pale gok | ave known ei ad not been led Purposely Made for Every Purpose

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Ever play golf Ever shoot ducks without without sticks & a gun the i . “og ( Hides Po rvs Then why try to reach people by mail without an Addressing Machine? And why be satisfied with less than the simplest, speediest, most economical system? These Flliott Index Cards print their own addresses at Nor ¢ tedious copying no more duplication of effox f you use these cards for listing and indexing the names and addresses of your customers and should-be customers. Elliott Index Cards come in 8 different colors. You can write or print on thet fibre frames and file them away just like any other efficient index card. Then, in the Elliott ADDRESS PRESS, these same cards will address your cweulars, form letters, statements, etc., for ever after, Fach turn of the crank sends a card through the ADDRESS. PRESS and automatically prints a different address each time — 60 per minute These addresses cannot be distinguished from typewriting, because Addresses can be stencilled into Elliott Index Address Cards right in your own office by nm any standard typewriter. Easiest thing in the world to keep mailing lists “‘alive’ and on the job, no matter whether they consist of 700 or 7,000,000 names, mnyone Send tor our Free Beok ‘‘Mechan ical Addressing” The Elliott Co. 146 Albany St., Cambridge, Mass. THE SATURDAY Ulrich’s kennel manager. This was Golden soy. And his owner had made little error in paying such a price for him. Not once in three shows did Jamie encounter such a perfect type. In another five minutes Golden Boy strode out of the ring, winner of the blue ribben for his class. Then, in pitiably short time, the Win- ners’ Class was called, and the victors of the preceding classes were brought in. The veriest tyro could have told that the final decision lay between Chieftain and Golden Soy, and three experts out of four, among the rail birds, knew that Golden Boy wa the better dog. Jamie Mackellar drew a long breath as he watched his steward lay the purple Winners’ rosette and the purple-and-white Reserve Winners’ strip of ribbon side by side on the open judging book. Then shut ting his lips into a white line he turned to the filthy ra of selling his professional honor. Perfunctorily he went over the several lesser candidates, then motioned Chieftain and Golden Boy to the block. Shoulder to shoulder stood the two splen- did collies and from between puckered lids Jamie surveyed them. Then he went over them with his sensitive fingers, testing, feel ing, appraising. In turn, he made them walk and come back to their places on the block. Unduly long he squatted in front of the two collies, studying them. Ulrich’s man ager fidgeted at the prolonged strain to which his dog was put. But Belden smiled with a perfect happiness. His man was doing some really creditable acting Mackellar rose wearily to his feet and slouched over to the judging book. Pick- ing up the book and the two bits of silk he returned to the block. “What's your dog’s number?” he asked Belden. At the query a buzz ran through the quadruple line of rail birds, for nineteen times out of twenty a judge asks this ques- tion first of the man to whose dog he intends to give the first prize, before ask- ing it of the next exhibitor. Mackellar, jotting down the two num- bers in his book, heard the rail birds’ hum. And he read it aright. In it he read sur prise, even disappointment. But there was no hint of contempt, as at an unjust decision. The crowd might not agree with him, but it trusted him. It trusted him! Catching his breath in almost a sob Jamie thrust the Winners’ rosette into the hand of the amazed Ulrich manager. Then wheeling wrathfully upon the chapfaller Belden he proffered him the purple-and- white Reserve Winners’ ribbon. “Take it, and be damned to you!” he snarled under his breath. “Golden Boy’s the better dog. Now go ahead and squash Early winter dusk was filtering down as Jamie Mackellar plodded up his own front walk and let himself into his cottage. As | always, Lochinvar Bobby greeted him rap- turously. Instead of giving the dog a friendly pat and passing on into the living room Mac- kellar shut the door behind him. Then he knelt down and took the collie’s classic head and shaggy ruff into his arms with a hug that strangled Bobby almost as much as it delighted him. Getting up, Jamie walked very fast into the kitchen. From the ice box he drew a sirloin steak. “Bobby,” he said, “I was going to eat this myself to-night. I got it to—to celebrate. But there isn’t anything to celebrate, Bobby. And I’m giving it to you. Eathearty. Enjoyita hale lot. Because—because ———- Anyhow, fall to; and get a staving good supper; be- fore The sentence stopped with a choke. Leaving his chum avidly devouring the unaccustomed feast Mackellar stumped into the bedroom and began to rummage in a chest of drawers. By the time the steak was wolfed down Jamie had found what he sought in the chest, and had hidden the thing in one of his pockets. Now he came again and stood looking down in silence on Bobby. Twice the man swallowed hard and his lips trem- bled oddly. He sat down in the nearest chair and called Bobby tohim. Holding the dog's head between quivering hands he began to speak: “Bobby lad, I thought I could go through with it to-day. I thought sure EVENING POST . I could. I was all ready to. But—but they—they trusted me, Bobby. And you'll remember what I said the other night about weighing things? knew that the earth and the kingdoms thereof didn’t weigh one-billionth as much as the thing that makes folks trust a chap. Whatever that thing is I don’t rightly know, Bobby. Not by name. But I had it. I’ve always had it. And there I was just on the edge of throwing it away. I couldn’t. It weighed too much. So I ’ He choked, cleared his throat impatiently and resumed: “Our kind of honor, isn’t on the free list, Bobby boy. It’s due to cost all we got—and more. But mistress will understand when I tell her; and she’ll say I done right. She'll help me fight back to luck, like she always has. And I’ve got a hunch that, soon or late, square folks is bound to win through, Bobby. I know it. So it’ll be all right, somehow, somewhen, for all of us—except you.” Again he paused, trying to steady his wabb ling pe ‘It won’t be all right for you, Bobby,”’ said he. ‘‘ Because you're a chattel, even if you've got a soul three times too big for your body. He'll be here any time for you, Bobby. And he'll bring the law to take you away from me. And I could stand that if it'd be a happy home you was going to, even if it cut out the heart of me to lose you. But— you heard what he said about that-—that rawhide, Bobby!” The dog, unmoving, stood looking up into his master’s face, the dz ark eyes alight with loving sy mpathy at Jamie’s tone of distress. Sobby,”” said Mackellar, speaking slowly, “he’s not going to have you. He's not going to beat you and torture you. No one ever is. And, Bobby, there’s just one way I can keep it from happening. Just one way. Lord, but I wish | had the right to use that same way on myself, to-night!” He drew forth what he had taken from the chest of drawers. Bob by sniffed at its strange odor with interest. “You'll stand looking up at me, all friendly, Bobby,”’ went on the slow, even tone, “and loving me and believing in me. Then there'll maybe be just a second of of hurt. And then, before you get a chance to know I’ve harmed you, you’ll—you’'ll befast asleep. There’s worse things, Bobby, than being asleep; asleep for always. Aiblins one day you'll come galloping to meet me, Bobby lad; to lead me Home. There’s that tohopefor. It don’t cost anything to hope It’s the only thing, besides worry, that don’t cost.” Jamie, aware of a draft from the thresh- old, guiltily lowered the half-raised pistol! and hid it under his coat. At the same time he caught Bobby by the ruff. For the dog, with bent head, was making for the door- way, wherein stood Rufus G. Belden. “Well, well!” excl aime -d Belden as Jamie eyed him dumbly. ‘Pretty picture, eh? Bid ling the faithful hound good- by, just as the new boss comes for him! He “N Jamie. ‘Bidding him good-by and godspeed before he goes be- yond your dirty reach for good. Clear out f here, unless you want to see something die that’s worth a hundred of you! Chase!” Rufus G. had caught a glimpse of the pistol’s bright barrel. His small eyes wid- ened. “The execution can wait a minute,” he said quietly. ‘‘ Perhaps it can wait forever. yours and mine, “6 o!’ , rasped a aatecae PTT | ch Ratio a> All at once I- January 28,1922 That’s up to you. I came here to say some- thing, and I’m not in the habit of leaving any place till I’ve had my say. Jamie made no reply. He was fighting with a crazy yearning to let Bobby end his career by ending Belden’s. “T fired Roke day before yesterday,” observed Belden conversationally. “I'd been watching him for the best part of a year. But he was too clever for me, till he got careless. They all get careless. And I found he’d been clearing up something like twenty-eight hundred dollars a year, over and above his five thousand dollars salary, on dog-food graft and traveling expenses. If he’d fed the collies on filet mignon and hired special trains, the bills couldn’t have been as high. He stood in with butcher and baker and all.” He waited. tinued: “As soon as I had the proof I canned him. His job is empty. Want it? There’s a good little house goes with it, back of the kennels. A bigger house than this. Same pay as Roke got. It’s a highway-robbery salary; or at least it used to be. But I’ve a notion a square man who understands the feeding-and-traveling game can save more than half of it for me in other expenses Sesides, it'll be kind of funny to have a fellow working for me who isn’t afraid of me and can’t be bullied or bribed. “By the way, I got the news yesterday, through an agency I'd sicked onto Roke, that it was he who tipped off Ulrich, by wire, about the offer I'd cabled for Golden Boy. Got a hundred dollars fer the tip. A sweet soul. Want that job?” “No!” flamed Jamie, finding his tongue in a rush of words. No! I don’t. You ean’t clean me out and steal my dog and try to make a crook of me—and then settle the bill by offering me a fat job. I don’t want it. I’m going to put Bobby out of your reach; and then work like a slave till my debt’s paid and I’m on my feet again. Those are all of my plans that concern you. “Maybe so,”’ agreed Belden, unruffled. “Maybe so. And maybe not. When you threw me down to-day I was for getting a city marshal and a dispossess gang, and turning you into the street before sunset; and then beating your dog to death where you could see me do it. Oh, I had a swell program laid out! Then I got to thinking. The biggest railroad deal I ever put across was by turning an honest enemy into an honest friend. And I got to thinking of that while I was cooling down to-day. About that and about—you, Mackellar. I didn’t think there was a man alive who'd throw away everything he had, and more, just for the sake of a fool notion of squareness. And I figured I could use such a man better for my own interests than by breaking him. So I came around here. Want that job?” Again Jamie did not speak, this time because he was watching Lochinvar Bobby. One of Belden’s hamlike hands had come to rest on the collie’s head. And not only was Bobby failing to resent it but he was actually standing passively under the caress and gazing up at the intruder with a grave friendliness. “I’m not back-tracking on anything I did,”’ said Rufus G. with a tinge of defiance in his big voice. ‘‘It was finanee. But there seems to be something in this game of sportsmanship that’s outside of finance. I don‘t quite understand it. But it’s there. And you’ve got it. And I mean to have you. I’m in this sport for keeps. And I’msurrounded by a bunch of crooks. If ever I’m to get anywhere in the game I’ve got to have a kennel manager who is working for his own honesty and white- _. before he’s even working for Rufus . Belden. I “He paused and looked a shade less cocksure than was his habit. Then, as ever, he branched off on a new tack. ‘Lochinvar Bobby will still be yours,” said he. ‘‘Forshows he'll be a Mackellar- Belden dog, independent of the kennels. We are going to show him as partners, each «‘anding half the expense and split- ting tae profits the same way. And ‘Bobby lad!”’ exclaimed Jamie with sudden noisy enthusiasm as he flung the pistol out into the road and shook the colliewith loving roughness by one shaggy shoulder. ‘‘ Bobby, I'll bet a year’s pay the Mackellar-Belden entry will keep Ulrich’s dog from getting his champion- ship till he’s so old they'll have to ship him to shows in sections. I—I wish I hadn’t given you all that fine steak. Lord, but I’m hungry!” No answer. Belden con- ES ——oo ! | ‘ « © ' 7 i ; } D>)

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST & hoe eae hes Fae ae 5 ihe aa JANUARY 1922 Sea S FS Pe Hee: eer Re Humanizing the Motor Car A really fine motor car attracts an eager and an appreciative market in America as surely as a magnet attracts steel. Neither technical skill, nor scientific ac curacy, nor soundness of theory, nor all of them combined, necessarily confers ; this peculiar identity upon a motor car. Of all the conveniences and commodi ties of modern civilization, it is still the one most desired. Motor cars are built for human beings, who re-act to them continuously, in brain and body, with every pulse of the motor and every turn of the wheel See re aos But it must be truly fine, in the strict and literal meaning of the word—and that fineness is the fruit of a combination of elements rarely attained. It is important, therefore, that engineer, and designer, and metallurgist, and manufacturer, alike, shall warm the cold processes of theory and practise, with constant remembrance of flesh and blood ae ei Engineering genius is not enough, nor metallurgical skill, nor mastery of design, nor scrupulous choice of materials, nor fine manufacturing equipment, nor un limited financial strength. When such a car is achieved, it is not merely mobile in the highest sense of that word, but instantly obedient to every demand of human ease and enjoyment fh *% } &. i 2 ey = After all these have been supplied, the history of the past twenty-five years i PEO Tg ‘te E9 has proven time and again that some thing else must be superadded which spells the difference between the ordi nary and the exceptional. That something else is almost like a trans mutation of the lifeless metals which enter into the construction of the cat It is only achieved when the individual craftsman submerges the ego of his genius and unites with his fellows in harmonious group-action under intelli gent direction When such group-action and direction are assured, and when the hard me chanical processes are mellowed, an ERR ITY | } It endows the completed product with softened, and humanized —then, and an entity as much its own as the per sonality of a human being. we only then, does a motor car become the perfect person il servant MS 1 He eet OE RGR eG Peer te The Peerless Motor Car C mpany has been acquired and is being operated by R. H. Collins and his associates - é

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36 Consistent Mileage depends toa large degre on the UNIFORMITY of ACCURATI in the construction of the workmanship carcass or foundation. Li Car ; r are { flat or pater machines ass} above, ! nn re un n entirely ifferent pr f f constru n Re 8s of R n n Mid chine, ut te the correct length r building h c r iired, Strips tabr n the inder side he ts mark tl precise pla vhere the rope must pass around the bead wires Vhis flat carcass is shaped | ur process, he buil practically mecHanica/, "The hu ding of a Carlisic 7 man variable 1 nothing. Carlisle ropes will deliver unusua mile ipe CON Lentin bec aise they are built with machine-like every tire exact the yeriormance : fundamental fe one of the sever tion thatmakes CARLISLE tures of tireconstruc Revolutionize the Industry CARLISLE CORPORATION Vramfora Conn PIR: THE SATURDAY EVENING POST EIGHT MILLION BUBBLES that even his blackest suspicions seemed fair compared to the reality. All that morning he had been pounding on his type- writer, oblivious of his surroundings, for when he started he had a gift for concen tration Abstractedly he had gone out for lunch in a near-by cellar, and had returned shortly with his heavy eyebrows still twisted, his coat still awry. Immediately on his return he reached, as was his wont, for his corncob pipe, lighted it and returned to his work, pausing now and then to blow clouds of smoke against the keyboard of his typewriter. It was three o’clock when Marianne in- terrupted him. She was obliged to speak twice before he looked up. Marianne was smiling her little timid smile and resting her chin on the palm of her hand. It oc- curred to him as he swung around in his chair that she looked less like a business woman than ever. “Do they advertise the brand of tobacco you're smoking?” asked Marianne. William moved apprehensively in his chair “Why, no,” they do.” Marianne still looked at him thought fully, and he became aware of a certain dip- lomatic tenseness. Casting a hasty glance to one side, he found that Charley and George and Ed had paused in their labors, and were looking also “I'm glad they don’t,”’ said Marianne. “I should hate to lose my faith in adver tising.”’ She must have thought it was funny, for she laughed, a merry little laugh. Strangely enough Charley and George and Ed must have thought it was funny, too, for they laughed also. “Sometime,” said William, smiling faintly, ‘“‘I hope to be able to afford some milder, advertised brand, though I don't see any immediate prospect.” “You don’t mind if I inquired Marianne. There was a certain chill satisfaction in finding how true his prediction was ringing With a patient sigh he laid down his pipe. He knew what he should say, and it was rather to his credit that he said it nicely. “I'm terribly sorry,”” he said. ‘*Why didn’t you tell me it bothered you before?” It doesn’t exactly bother me,” Mari- anne explained. ‘“‘It blows over me. You see, with the window beside you open and the draft—I don’t really mind, but 4 William looked at Charley and George and Ed, and smiled sourly. After all, he was not the only one who would fall in the ruin. “Well,” he said with something of old Grimm's courtesy, “‘all I can say is that it was awfully thoughtless of us not to have noticed. I suppose we've been doing it so long that we didn’t think. I know we'll all be glad to stop. Why, I was just reading last night ax He paused and looked maliciously at hi companions. “| was just reading that if you take a strong, vigorous young mouse—or mayh« it was a rat or a guinea pig or something and put him in an air-tight box, and keep the box full of tobacco smoke, why, he loses his appetite and finally pines away. That's what tobacco does to you.” “Oh,” cried Marianne, “I was you'd think I was silly.” “Silly?” said William. ‘Not at all. You're the only one in the room who has any sense. It’s a fine thing you came. We'll all be glad to stop.” He raised his voice in oratorical appeal. ‘We were hoping you'd stop us. Weren’t we, Ed?” Ed was staring gloomily before him, when Marianne said something that caused William to grasp the arm of his chair, that almost stunned him by its unexpectedness ‘I don’t mind how much the others smoke,” said Marianne. “That's the stuff!’ said Ed enthusias- tically. ‘‘That’s the spirit, Miss Wright!” “You mean they can keep right on smok- ing?"’ demanded William. “But why why should they?” “T’m awfully glad you don’t mind giving it up,” said Marianne to William. “It’s such a relief to know how you feel, because [ was rather afraid you depended on it. Of course I don’t mind it, but it gets in my clothes and bothers mother.” he said; “JI don’t believe hope o too?” afraid (Continued from Page 10) They all looked at William and smiled broadly, but he made no reply. Without the slightest trace of petulance he opened the top drawer of his desk and tossed his pipe inside it. The very best in his nature seemed to stand forth just then. Even when he saw Ed and Charley openly nudge each other he continued to smile graciously. If only she hadn’t said that about her mother. Why couldn’t they be frank about things? Why did they always blame it on someone else? “You're not angry?” asked surprisingly contrite and anxious don’t think I’m silly?” Sut William only shook his head, the passive martyr to a great principle. Why hadn’t she made them all stop? The in- justice of it still rankled. Why had he been singled out to face alone the full shock of emancipated womanhood? Of course everyone had heard about it by the next morning. When he went into the mechanical department everyone was joyously agog. Down in the shipping room the news was making the day bright. They asked him of it politely in the art depart- ment; and even old Grimm, whom he met in the hall, chuckled when he saw William “Hear you've given up smoking, my boy,”’ Mr. Grimm remarked. William felt more awkward than he ever had beneath old Grimm’s mocking gaze, but he kept his presence of mind. “T’'ve got to economize somehow,” re- plied William. ‘Hear you've given up smoking,” Ed, following him into the copy room. “Go to the devil!’ snapped William. ‘Il was always afraid you might get to- bacco heart,”’ replied Ed, skipping nimbly to his desk. But William scarcely heard him. His eyes were held riveted by another sight. On the blotter, right where the morning sun struck it, was a tumbler of water, and in the tumbler was a rose. The unexpectedness of the sight made him pause and pass his hand across his brow. It even made him forget about Marianne. As he turned hastily toward his three companions his voice rumbled like distant thunder. “Which one of you sapheads did this?” he demanded. Charley tittered and George ran hastily to the door. “T did,” said Marianne timidly, and William blushed in his confusion. He felt a little as though he were rolling about in eider down. The whole thing was 30 hard to grasp, so entirely beyond the reaches of his experience. What was there to say when someone did a thing like that? He couldn't explain that a rose had never appeared in the copy room before, and that in his rough world every flower was a badge of derision. Instead, he would have to leave it on his desk, while crowds tiptoed in to look at it. And there was Marianne with the same frightened look she had worn when she first entered the copy room, and in her glance there was entreaty and almost surprise. “Tt. it’s a peace offering,” stammered Marianne. ‘They told me you liked flow- ers.”’ “A peace offering for what?”’ he asked stupidly. -She must have read some of the mixed feelings he was experiencing, for she looked a little startled. “Because I asked you not to smoke,”’ she almost whispered. “Good Lord!” murmured “‘Well—isn't it lovely?” Feeling that his remark was inadequate he felt constrained to continue. ‘“‘How pink the petals look in the sun- light!" he added. Even then William might have become used to Marianne if she had only stopped right there, but as the days went on she didn’t seem to feel that the rose was enough. A week later she gave him some fudge in a shoe box, and the day after that just before lunch she spoke to him again. “You've had that button off your coat for a week,”’ said Marianne. “Good Lord!” said William. ‘Have oS By Again he felt as though he had come Marianne, ‘You said William. against some intangible and yielding force that nevertheless was terrible in its strength. “Yes,” said Marianne; “and if you come over here I'll sew it on for you.” January 28 1922 Was everything he had predicted about Marianne going to happen? William felt as though something were tickling the back of his neck. Was it possible that someone in the copy room of the Hans Andersen was actually suggesting sewing on one of his buttons? Of course it could only be a joke. “T wish you would, of course,’’ he replied in hopeful raillery, ‘“‘but I’ve lost the blooming button. Careless of me, wasn’t yo: “Of course you would lose it,’ said Marianne. ‘‘So I bought one just like it yesterday afternoon. Now bring your chair over here. “Now, come,” he remonstrated feebly, “you musn’t take so much trouble.” “Don’t be silly,” said Marianne. ‘“‘ Move your chair over.” “‘Look here,” said William hastily, ‘I'll get that button fixed to-night. I'll go right out now and get it fixed.” “If you don’t move your chair over,” said Marianne, “I'll pull it over myself.” Could a man be in a more embarrassing position? Already she was pulling at his jacket Already she had opened a little purse and had shaken out a key, a powder puff, a piece of candy, a stamp and a thimble, and now she was leaning forward with her head just under his nose. There was nothing left but to sit passively and glare savagely at his companions. “There,” coat. “It’s awfully good of you,”’ said Willian hoarsely. “And you’re not angry any more? Marianne more gently. “Angry?” echoed William. “About the tobacco,” said “and not smoking.” **Good Lord!” said William ten all about that.’ And he had, for through the partitior which divided off the copy room he could hear Charley's voice in a new narration, and between the pauses joyous shouts of laughter. “It’s funny William. If there was any irony in his words she could not have noticed it, for she patted his coat again and looked at him more brightly than ever. “Yes, isn’t it?”’ said Marianne. How could anyone get used to Marianne when she did things like that? ” said Marianne, patting hi Marianne “a forgot how helpless men are,”’ said Iv ET perhaps he was getting used to Marianne after all, because he was sorry when she stopped. Perhaps it was because they quarreled that he was sorry, for he hated quarrels, and this one was quite absurd and childish. Moreover, what made it worse, he couldn't help but feel that he was to blame. It was after five o'clock on a sultry after- noon towards the end of April when it happened. William remembered afterwards that he was feeling tired and moody. With his hands in his pockets and his hat over his eyes he had wandered dreamily over to Third Avenue. He had grown to like Third Avenue better than any other street in that seething, hurried town. Its simplicity and frankness made it a pleasant place. He liked to look into the dingy shop windows, and to hear the shrill voices of the children; and the very noise of the Elevated trains above his head formed a pleasant back- ground for his thoughts. On that particu- lar day, however, William recalled that he felt more tired than usual, that his head ached and that the life he led seemed un- usually vain and hollow. He had stopped at a shop window, and was staring at it list- lessly, wondering, he remembered, whether there was any particular use in anything, when someone spoke to him; and there was Marianne, smiling in the same superior way she had after she had sewed the button on his coat. “When I was three blocks away,” said Marianne, “I could see you looking at those eardboard suitcases. You're not going to buy one, are you?” “Not if I can help it,” said William doubtfully. ‘‘But you never can tell. didn’t use to believe it, but you can’t tell exactly what may happen to-morrow.” “Of course you can’t,” said Marianne. **That’s the nice part about it.” (Continued on Page 38 | | | . t | ‘gy, { }

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST from the factory Freshness is the essence of smoking tobacco quality. It takes time—and lots of it—to cure tobacco properly. Nothing can hurry it—but once it is properly aged, blended, cut and packed for smoking, the sooner you smoke it the better it is. To insure TUXEDO reaching you in fresh condition, The American Tobacco Com- pany has changed its entire plan of distri- bution on Tuxedo. Nothing is overlooked that will clip minutes from the schedule on which TUXEDO is delivered from our factory to your pipe. We have always guaranteed the quality of TUXEDO—now we guarantee its condition when it reaches you. This means that every pipeful is good and every pipeful alike. You need never smoke stale tobacco again. (, from the factory resh from the factory Read the little book- | let attached to every a. Cf tin — The story of FRESH TUXEDO. Sn rz ees Sayg Atty PREPAL , © Guaranteed by dA at ite 1A Sibace & a be E q pt \ ° —which means that if you don't like TUXEDO DN al tobacco you can get your money back from the dealer from the factory

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app in Le arms ol ye a ae Wdy (Continued from Page 36) A moment later he found that he was walking beside her, and that he had forgot- ten about his headache. He found even that he was glad he had encountered Marianne. “I don’t think it’s very nice,” said Wil- liam. ‘I don’t think it’s nice at all.” “That's because you're a pessimist,” said Marianne, and laughed: ‘Oh, 1 know you are—-dreadfully pessimistic! I’ve watched you scowling there at your desk, and I’ve heard the things you've said.” William looked down at her a little guilt- ily. Again he had his old conviction that she did not belong there at all, that she was a being completely out of place on that drab avenue. As he thought of it his brow clouded at the injustice of the system that had brought her between the millstones. How could a girl like that cope with the world in which he lived, a girl who wore ruffies around her wrist and put fudge in a box? “A pessimist,” he said word. I’m a cynic that’s all.” “There really isn’t any difference, Marianne. “Oh, yes there is, shoe s hardly the ” said " said William. ‘Not much, but some. A pessimist would say these suitcases were all cardboard. A cynic would admit there was a slight outer cover- ing of leather.” **How silly!” said Marianne. think eve rything’ s cardboard?” The expression pleased his innate love for glittering phrases. “'That’s it,” he answered more enthusi- astically. ‘Peel off the leather, and that’s what almost everything is— cardboard, sec- ond “re ide.’ “Well, I don’t think so,’ “I think everything’s perfectly lovely.’ William stubbed his toe against a crack in the sidewalk, muttered something be- neath his breath, and stared down at her Ww ith increased inte re | ‘By Christmas!” he exclaimed gently ‘Now imagine anyone saying that in cold blood! Well, I guess there aren't any male Pollyannas.”’ “That's because Marianne. “Not silly,” replied William, in de fe nse of his sex. ‘Not silly—just sensible. Marianne quickened her steps. They’ re not se nsible!’’ she answered sharply. “They never take anything in the right spirit. Now take the office. I hear you all grumbling, and there isn't anything to grumble at at all.” “Perhaps you haven't been there long enough,” William suggested. ‘There's al- “Do you "said Marianne. men are so silly,’’ said ways something to grumble at in every office.” “Well,” said Marianne, “I think our office is splendid. It’s so nice to be doing something real.”’ Ww illiam laughed in lofty patronage. ‘Just wait till old Grimm erupts,” he said, ‘‘and maybe you'll think differently. He's due to break out any minute now, and when he does— why, the last days of Pompeii are nothing to old Grimm. I know. I know he’s up to something. Have you seen him scratching the back of his head? Well, you watch!” “T think he’s a perfect dear!” said Marianne. William did not answer except with an- other laugh, louder and harsher than be- fore, and walked along stiffly and in silence. “I don’t care what you say,” said Marianne, ‘‘it’s lovely at the office.” As he looked back on it later he con- cluded there-must have been something in her tone that roused his resentment. It might have been her aggressive assurance or perhaps her blindness which made his | retort unnecessarily sharp and discourteous. ‘Did you ever think,” he inquired, “that pe ha ups women don’t know anything about men? “Oh ” began Marianne. “The trouble with women,” he tinued, regardless of her interruption, ‘‘is that they’re sentimental maniacs. I’ve seen ‘em start in downtown. They always begin by thinking everything’s a sort of romantic game. If the modern business women ever figured anything out, if they had any sense of humor, they might know what they were up against, and then maybe they’d stay at home. Maybe they wouldn’t be so anxious to get emancipated.” He paused. He hadn't meant to say all that, and he couldn’t understand what had made him. Marianne had stopped dead on the sidewalk and was looking at him with wide-eyed disillusion. con- THE SATURDAY EVENING POST “Oh!” she cried. “I didn’t know you thought that about me!” ‘Look here,” said William, uncon- sciously voicing the eternal plaint of man. *‘Look here—I wasn’t talking about you. I was just talking about women in general. How was I to know you’d take it per- sonally?”’ “We Il, then,” said Marianne icily, ‘‘what did you say it for?” “Good Lord!” remonstrated William. “*T don’t know why I said it. I guess maybe I thought it might interest you. Now why should anything he said have made her so angry? She was angry; there was no doubt about it. Even he could see she was getting angrier every moment. “T have got a sense of humor!” Marianne. 3ut I didn’t say you hadn't William. “And I’m not a business woman,” she continued, “‘and I don’t see why you ever thought so. I’m just a poor girl who has to earn her living.” **Now look here, William. “Don’t call me that!’’ cried Marianne. I don’t know why I ever said you could. I don’t know why I ever thought it was worth while to say anything to you. I’m going home now. Let go of my arm!” “But you can’t cross the street now,” William remonstrated. ‘‘You’re not even looking in front of you. You've got to wait said ,” objected Marianne * began till those trucks go by. Now listen! I’m awfully sorry. I never meant —— “T don’t care what you meant,” said Marianne, and she was gone, while William stared after her as she vanished in the crowd on the opposite sidewalk. He stared after her, and little lines of weariness began to pull at the corners of his mouth. Could anything have been sillier than the whole business? Imagine a girl like that trying to earn her living, and not even being able to keep her temper—not even being able to join in an equable de- bate! Why, she wasn’t even grown up, and he hadn't meant anything at all, ex- cept to be interesting. It never occurred to him that evening as he sat in his room alone, staring through the open window at the lights of the side street, that the events in his life were be- coming crowded, and that he was faced with a new manifestation of the world’s history. He never knew that he was play- ing already in a modern drama, the like of which had never been played before his time. But even if he had known he would probably have called it the same old stuff, as in a way it was. Not even when old Grimm called him into his office the next morning did he see that the plot was thick- ening. Perhaps if he had there might never have been any plot at all. “Oh, well,” said William, shaking his alarm clock, “‘she’ll forget it in the morn- ing.” But Marianne didn’t forget it. That was the first thing which started the morning y y wrong. » Y ALL the signs that William knew best it was certain that Mr. Grimm could not go much longer without breaking out. It had been three months now since the last occurrence, when Tommy Rooney went by the board, and no man of Mr. Grimm's vivid temperament could be ex- pected to remain quiescent much longer. So William was not much surprised when Mr. Grimm broke out that next morning. Nor was he surprised that the attack was so severe, for three months was a long time for Mr. Grimm to hold himseif in leash. Almost the first thing that morning Mr. Grimm called William into his office. Once when William had first come to the Hans Andersen he had been afraid of that office of Mr. Grimm’s. Once its austere grandeur in contrast with the simplicity of the Hans Andersen copy room filled him with re- luetant awe, but he knew better now. It had not taken William long to suspect that Mr. Grimm set his office much the way he would a stage, watching each detail with a studied scrutiny. But even now as William walked firmly across the red carpet, ob- livious of the elegance of the modern period furniture, he had a little of his old feeling. Try as he mighi he could not entirely shake off the illusion that he was approaching a great presence. Nor was it entirely an il- lusion, for Mr. Grimm was great in his way—a great artist who was conscientious about his art. He was sitting in his characteristic at- titude in his high-backed armchair. His January 28, 1922 grip a clawlike about the aepnentiam "ood on his bare fingers were stretched i Jacobean desk. He was chewing a match stick and was looking out over the harbor, while he carefully balanced his chair on two legs. Once there had been a time when William momentarily hoped Mr. Grimm — fall over backward in that chair, but he knew better now. Mr. Grimm was not the man to lose his balance or forget what he was doing. Still tipping back in his chair Mr. Grimm removed the match from his mouth when he saw William, and pointed with a slow dramatic gesture to the desk in front of him. William’s brows contracted. There ir the exact center of the desk was a green oval cake of soap, and stamped on its glossy surface was a single word, bold and protuberant — Latherol. “Jenks,” said Mr. Grimm, it. Yes, b’gad! I pulled it out of mouths!” At another time -William laughed, but he knew too well laughing matter. Would the gods never have pity? Was Mr. Grimm going to launch another advertising campaign for a soap? “Yes,” said Mr. Grimm, seemingly awed by his own achievement, “‘the Kauffman crowd almost had that Latherol account, and I pulled it out of their mouths. I guess I showed ’em I was still on deck!” ‘“‘Congratulations, sir!’’ cried William with forced enthusiasm. ‘‘Splendid!” “And it isn’t any piker’s game either,” said Mr. Grimm. “ They’re going to spend two million dollars. Now sit down. I sup- pose you know why you’re here?” “Not exactly,” said William hopefully. ” Don't be a fool, Jenks,”’ returned Mr. Grimm. ‘Of course you know why here, It’s something of an honor you are here, Jenks. It isn’t everybody I care to talk to about soap.” William moved uneasily in his chair. So he was going to write another soap cam- paign for Mr. Grimm. Perhaps a year ago he would have been flattered, but he knew better now. He had seen too many good men go by the board in soap campaigns at the Hans Andersen. He knew that almost anything might happen when Mr. Grimm got started with soap. And now William watched him with a sinking heart. In Mr. Grimm’s eye was a glow of holy zeal, like that of a crusader who sees before him the gates of the sacred city. “Jenks,”’ said Mr. Grimm in a strangely hushed voice, “I’m getting to be a pretty old man. 1 wouldn’t wonder if the time was coming when I'll be too old to do this sort of thing. Right now I sometimes wonder if my mind works as quick as it used to.” He paused, and looked at William sharply as though his mind were still in perfect working order, and William’s heart felt still more leaden than before. Yes, Mr. Grimm was going to begin another soap campaign. That was the way Mr. Grimm always started. “Sometimes, Jenks,” continued Grimm, ‘‘as I look back on my life, der if I've been a damned fool.” William knotted his eyebrows slightly and moved uneasily in his chair. “T may not have done much,” Mr. Grimm went on, ‘“‘I may have been wasting my time, but, by gad, when I sit back and wonder, I remember I’ve done one thing and done it better than any young whipper- snapper you hear about.’ His voice became even and solemn, every word carefully enunciated. “I’ve done more successful soap adver- tising than any other man in the world! That’s what I’ve done!” He stopped and looked again at William. “T suppose a lot of people may think that’s a pretty silly way to spend your life,’’ he continued, ‘but I don’t know. All I know is I’ve spent my best years doing it. Soap—why, selling soap is the greatest game there is! Sornetimes before I go to sleep I say over the names of the soaps I’ve sold. They go almost like a Latin verb Washo, Spongo, Scouro, Cleano. B’gad, I've told the world about those soaps. And now that I’m getting old, and they tell me it’s time to quit, there’s only one thing I’ve landed their might have it wasn’t a you re Mr. I won- with more I jwant to do! D’you know what that is? Again William fidgeted in his chair. Young as he was he knew better than to in- terrupt Mr. Grimm at a time like this. Mr. Grimm had sprung to his feet now, and (Continued on Page 40) i. — — a —_—— = h

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST “but | always thought Asbestos Roofing ‘ too expensive” ‘4 A a matter of fact, Asbestos Roofing is the most economical of all roofings. For actual ; roofing cost must be figured ona per year basis not on its initial cost—and the roofing that lasts the longest without upkeep and repair ; " When you roof with Johns-Manville Asbe tos—of whatever type—you have roofed onc | cost is the cheapest. f f ah / for all, Your first cost 1s your o7/y cost. Meets every building requirement Johns-Manville Asbestos Rooting found 1t ' 1 } 1 inst market among the big industrials because the trained buver was the first to realize ? ultimate economy, not only in its reduction of d . . Py 9 “) } i fire risk but also in durability. +} = ] ] : But the demand for those same qualities ina roonng suitable for re sidences and smali butld us has brought about th development ot | hhns-Manville Roofinginrollandshingk types What ype of Asbestos Roofing? i to meet the requirements of any but ingata his chart will help you decide } price consistent with the building’s total cost aaa j rn ! P ype o shestos rand or Trade i ' — : Kind of Building Gentes Neme i Different from any other rooting ~” a j \ yestc en | ( t ) ; ; fing material. gE , An asbestos roof is a mineral roof, unaffecte i ; Vy time Or weathe r, neeaing no paint oO! pro ng surtace, tree trom the danger of talling parks, and vet rivaling 1 appearang the ' : : ; +, \ il KINGS Of roofing tha hab ‘ has ' iught 1 to regard as standard i\ ‘ Notice in the photograph below th tv pe sof . | ’ 41 “VP. »? id j \ i homes thatare being roofs with John Manville Fire-safe? Look at this. | | tn i 1 r . ] l 1 fe l 1 \ } KR ‘ Asbestos. Then findonthechart tothe right th A ae j t j particular ty pe that b meet wrrequirement Hi u I Kt | JOHNS-MANVILLE I Johns-M Asbestos R Johns M 7 ; J | | | , ( ud As! ; , ' » | h Ij } t * i spestos OO Ing a . if Residence of Peter Nielson Galveston, lexas 5 ee i at , » “ali \ | nth LL. Residence of F. R. Urion Pleasantville, N. Y Residence of Henry F. Keil Rye, VN.)

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Shop With _ Dorothy To learn the names ix of the shops onthe ‘en in these paragrapha may hae a } I one 3000 Walnut or write to Dorothy's Shop / a ma ¢ olumn,. Public Ledger, In eller onan. | — - ses mumber of the paragraph and the publication, Deroth take to act as purchasing — — October 9, 1921 1 This Sunday I am going to begin + with the men folks, bléss ‘em fora change. I'm fussy about the mas- } culine collar, and I think a good man | women are. We like our men folk = Kee ar grac eful, easy looking collars that ave a swagger to them. The other day il Saw a man of my acquaintance, wh knows dress from A to Z, and I was ~ | entranced by his particular collar that I j actually asked him its name and h | actually told me—and that collar’s ‘he 4 pea h. You have only to perbuade rs ; Man to try one to have him agree with ‘ne Ns $ a marvel in moresways than Oo r Se and a i sara rt este fone, and car be. hed: 1 be washed at home as easily as a handkerchief, Ie is said not | to shrink nor wrinkle, nor yet to wile, It requires no starching, has no artificial stiffening and no saw edges to hurt either the neck or the shirt. There are several shapes from which to choose, but } the re 1s one in particular—the one this well dressed man wore—which is becom- ing te the average man, and ! person- ally am quite mad about ir. The price is fifty cents. Be sure when you call on my phone or write to my department t ask for both the name of the make ond ) the name of the particular style of collar t@ which I refer. It sounds like a wild | yarn, but a couple of days ago a mar assured me most elaborately that he | knew a man who managed with only two of these collars all his summer vaca- tom 50 easily and quickly were they ‘aundered and so well did they wear. — rys tie style referred to is Van Jack-—the make is VAN HEUSEN the Worlds Smartest COLLAR Vine styles and heights, quarter to 18, price fifty cents sizes, 13° Retailers’ orders booked as received. If your dealer cannot supply you, write us for address of one, that can. lo Retailers: For circu- lar descriptive of the nine styles of the new VAN HEUSEN Collar, write to us. © 19211 PHILLIPS-JONES CORPORATION 1225 Broadway, New York | ent from all the rest THE SATURDAY Continued from Page 38) was waving his fist in a sudden burst of excitement. “T want to do another soap account, just one more before I die! I want to doa soap campaign that’ll make the world sit up; and, by thunder, you and I are going to do it!” William raised a hand to his brow and stared before him helplessly. So old Grimm was off again. William had been in the Hans Andersen long enough to know the old traditions. For the past fifteen years Mr. Grimm always started a soap cam- paign on that very note. For the past fifteen years he had always wanted to do just one more before he died. Stockings, hose supporters, overalls—they were noth- ing; Mr. Grimm could always take them calmly. But when it came to soap - The years had made it almost a part of his being. No wonder William felt the per- spiration on his forehead. “And now I’vegot Latherol,”” Mr. Grimm was saying. “As fine a soap as there is on the market, and I only wish I had the time to write the campaign myself. I only wish I was young again, but I’m not. You're going to dig up the idea, my boy! And I’m going to tell you when you've got the right one, and it’s got to be a pretty big idea to get by me. I know about soap.” “But don’t you think,” William began hastily, ‘‘don’t you think it would be bet- ter to get somebody with more sz “Oh, you've got enough experience,” in- terrupted Mr. Grimm. ‘Don’t be so mod- est, Jenks. You can put Latherol on the map if you'll only concentrate. Look at that little green cake of soap. Gad, I wish I was doing it! Think of all the soap ad- vertisements that have been written. Think of the thousands of soaps on the market, almost the same color, almost as good, all clean, beautiful soaps! Think of them, and just remember this—you've got to think of some idea that will make Latherol differ- different and better. There’s a problem for a real man! Gad, I wish I had the time! I envy you, my boy. Some idea to advertise that soap, some idea that'll make ’em run to the store for it, that'll make ’em all say Latherol. Now take off your coat and start, and don’t try to put any silly stuff over on me. Re- member, I know a soap idea when I see it. Here!” And Mr. Grimm thrust the green cake into William’s reluctant hands. “Don’t give this to any girls, Jenks. It’s time to put away childish things! Keep it right in your pocket. Put it under your pillow. Think it! Live it! Breathe it! Soap—that’s what your life will be till this is over! And by the way, Jenks, Miss Wright will be working with you.” For just a moment William forgot the vista of grueling days and sleepless nights that were stretching before him. “Look here,” he said, obeying an im- pulse he could not explain, “I can get along all right. She doesn’t need to be in on this!” “Why, Jenks,” said Mr. Grimm, “‘you’re not jealous, are you?” “No,” said William, ‘it isn’t that. It’s because the thing’s too hard for her. You ought not to make her do it, Mr. Grimm.” Mr. Grimm shrugged his shoulders. “Too hard for her, nothing!”’ he snorted. “She knows her job. Take care she doesn’t know it better than you, Jenks.” The day was hot, and William was mop- ping his brow when he stopped beside Marianne’s desk. “Well,” he said, “I was right. Grimm's started, and we're going to do this Latherol thing together. I'm awfully sorry.” Marianne looked up at him coldly. “Tf it will console you to know it,”’ she replied, “the sentiment is perfectly mu- tual. Mr. Grimm told me you needed someone with common sense to hold you down.” “T didn’t mean I was sorry we were going to do this thing together,” said William hastily; “I’m just sorry we're going tc work on it. That’s all.” “But isn’t that just the same thing?” Marianne demanded. “You don’t understand,” said William patiently. “You don’t know Grimm. When he gets like this you can’t do anything with him. He wants something, and he doesn’t know what he wants. He’s one of these people who pull everything to pieces. No matter what you do it isn’t any good when Mr. Grimm's like this. I just thought I'd tell you, because we may lose our jobs if we aren't careful.” EVENING POST “T wish you wouldn’t bother me,” said Marianne. ‘“‘Can’t you see I’m busy?” vi O MARIANNE did not see at all, and what more could William do after that? Besides, he had his own work to do. Per- haps you have to have written advertising copy on a new campaign really to under- stand it, really to grasp the difficulties of groping blindly for something intangible, with nothing but a wayward intellect to help. And Mr. Grimm was right about soap. How was it possible to think of any- thing new, when every billboard, every street car, every magazine had been dis- playing soap advertisements for over a generation? What was his ingenuity to turn to in such a task? And what if he did think of a good idea? Would it appeal to Mr. Grimm? He knew well enough it wouldn’t. Nothing would be good enough when Mr. Grimm was laboring under such exaltation. Yes, he had troubles enough of his own without thinking of Marianne at all, and he was right in his estimate of Mr. Grimm. On these occasions no one knew what Mr. Grimm wanted, and Mr. Grimm never bothered to say even if he knew himself. But he did bother ahout Marianne, be- cause she needn’t have been so disagreeable about it, and she needn’t have continued being disagreeable. {t seemed that she still remembered what he had said about women, for she hardly spoke to him at all. While he sat knitting his brows, worried by the problem which confronted him, she went about her work with an annoying confi- dence, reading books on soap, reading piles of soap advertisements, and pausing now and then to jot down sentences on a piece of paper. Once toward the nd of the week William out of the kindness of his heart broke through the barrier of silence. “How are you getting on?” he asked politely. ‘‘Is there anything I can do?” Marianne answered his questions crisply and concisely in two words. “Splendidly. Nothing,” she said. “Oh, well, I just thought I'd ask,” said William. ‘No offense, I’m sure, but you know we're expected to codperate on this thing.” Marianne tapped on her desk with the point of her pencil. “Perhaps,” she replied, “‘we would get along better if you minded your own busi- ness. Perhaps when this thing’s over you won't think women are so stupid. Perhaps I don’t need any help. Perhaps I may have an idea that Mr. Grimm will like better than yours. Did you ever think of that?” William drew a deep breath of astonish- ment, shocked by her trustful ignorance. “Do you mean to say,” he demanded, ? > r4 7? ry “that you think he’s going to take any- thing we do this week? Why, you act as if you were in a fairy story. Old Grimm’s going to turn down every idea this week, next week and the next, if I know him. Didn’t I tell you that’s what old Grimm always does?”’ ““Nonsense!’’ snapped Marianne. He hadn't suspected it before, but she actually did believe that Mr. Grimm would be content with a week’s work—a week on a soap campaign! Why, in a week’s time, if you had given him a Shakspere play he would have said it was rotten just on gen- eral principles. It was hardly credible, but when the poor girl entered Grimm's office on the appointed day she actually thought that the worst was over, and that he would seize enthusiastica!ly upon one of her sheets of paper. William could read her thought in her confident step and in the tilt of her head. Could anything have been more ridiculous? Could anything have been more pathetic? As he looked back on it later he decided that day was the first time he felt sorry for Marianne, really, actively sorry. : Old Grimm was tilting his chair as usual, and chewing his match, but when he saw them he rubbed his hands, and William could see that his eye had its accustomed glitter. “Well, Jenks,” he said cheerily, “bring ’em on. What have you got to-day? How are we going to put Latherol up with the leaders?”’ Instinctively William assumed an atti- tude of cheerful enthusiasm. “T’ve thought of several ways, sir,” he replied; ‘‘several very good ways.” “Ha!’ chortled old Grimm, and stopped an instant to chew his match in pleased anticipation. “I bet they’re all rotten!” January 28,1922 “Well,” said William, “what do you think of this one?” In his way William was a very skillful diplomat. It was hard to tell from his voice that he knew he was leading a lamb to the slaughter. ‘“‘Now Latherol is made of coconut oil,” he continued. ‘Here are some sketches I had them make in the art department, tell- ing the story of where Latherol comes from—palm trees, genial breezes, the trop- ics, and so on. Rather picturesque, don't you think?” Mr. Grimm removed his match, and his face became masklike. For a moment there was a cold, threatening silence. “Now why in the name of Hades,” said Mr. Grimm at last, “did you waste our artists’ time with this puerile efferves- cence? You ought to know better by this time, Jenks. Rotten! The rottenest things I ever saw. What else?” “Well,” said William, “if you don’t like that, what do you think of this?” “Rotten!” said Mr. Grimm. “Well,” said William, “‘how about this one? I thought when I was doing it you’d like it.” “Rotten!” said Mr. Grimm. as hell!” And he tilted back his chair with satisfied finality, like a man who has finished the first course of a pleasant meal “They’re all rotten,” said Mr. Grimm. “You're not concentrating, Jenks. Why, I could do better myself in two minutes if | put my mind to it. I wish to heaven | had the time. What’s the matter, Jenks? You’ve been here long enough to do some real thinking. Let’s see you pull the traces. Snap into it! Dig something out!” As he ceased his exhortation he glanced at William coolly, and selected another match. They often wondered at the Hans Andersen whether Mr. Grimm realized how close he drove people to physical violence in times like this. Sometimes William thought that Mr. Grimm knew very well, and derived from his knowledge a sort of mild enjoyment. William looked at Mari- anne. She was watching him with a faint, contemptuous smile. He looked back at Mr. Grimm, half rose from his chair, and then slowly relapsed. ‘“‘What’s the matter, Jenks?’”’ Mr. Grimm inquired with elaborate solicitude. ‘Are you feeling sick?” “No!” said William. “Well, Miss Wright,” said Mr. Grimm, “T have hopes of you. Let’s have some- thing with a little common sense. What contributions have you to add to this blaz- ing pyre of genius?” Like the dread Sultan in the Arabian Nights, he leaned back in his chair and half closed his eyes, as though waiting to hear the faltering story of some poor maiden whom he had already doomed. Before Marianne had said two words he began to chew his match stick rapidly. Before she had time to finish he interrupted her with a loud snort. “Rotten!” snapped Mr. Grimm. Hades, how rotten!” Marianne caught her breath and dropped her little bundle of papers to the carpet And as she did so William’s thoughts under- went a curious change. Perhaps it was lack of tobacco that set his nerves on edge. A moment before he had been hoping that Mr. Grimm would say that to Marianne, but now that he had said it he felt a sudden rush of anger, as though he had drunk deep of some elixir, which made him forget cau- tion and common sense, which made him even forget to use diplomatic speech. “Mr. Grimm,” said William, “do you think you're still talking to me?”’ Mr. Grimm was still tilting back in his chair, but at William’s speech he was obliged to kick out his legs to recover his balance. “Well, I’ll be damned!” he “Well, I’ll be damned!” Then above the beating of his pulses William heard Marianne speaking with clear incisiveness. “Tf I don’t like what people say,’’ ob- served Marianne, “I am quite capable of telling them myself; and I feel perfectly sure,” she continued with a smile, which caused Mr. Grimm to drop his match on the floor, “that Mr. Grimm is entirely right.” Slowly William rubbed his hand across his forehead. Over him was stealing the chill and inevitable reaction of his piece of folly. Into his benumbed senses was creep- ing the conviction of what an idiotic thing (Continued on Page 42) “Rotten “Oh, gasped. \ ,

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(Continued from Page 40) he had done, and what a fool he stood branded before them both. He could feel a dull red mounting toward his eyes as Mr. Grimm sat grinning at him across the desk. “Why, Jenks!” exclaimed Mr. Grimm sweetly. ‘Now this is most remarkable! I wouldn’t have thought it of you, Jenks not at all. Pardon my astonishment, Miss Wright, but it’s something of a shock this morning to hear him ask a sensible ques- tion.” William still felt overheated as he and Marianne left Mr. Grimm's office. “You’reanawfulfool!’’ sniffed Marianne. “Perhaps,”’ said William in savage par- | ody, “you'll be glad to know that the feel- | ing is entirely mutual!” So that’s what came these days ; to be chivalrous. William walked to his desk without even looking back at her, and for the first time he was angry, really angry at Marianne. vil S THE days went by it became increas- ingly evident why no one had ever been able to guess what Mr. Grimm really wanted when he got started, because there wasn’t anything he wanted at all. But why go into detail over the painful repetitions which ensued during the following weeks? Ask anyone who has done creative work, and he will tell you what it means. Ask anyone who has written advertising for a man who wants something, but doesn’t know what. Even William, hardened by previous encounters with Mr. Grimm’s captious moods, began to feel the strain. Even his gaunt face became haggard during those ensuing weeks. The whole affair seemed to run like the course of some high fever; and, like some fever, there was natu- rally a crisis. Yet all this would not really have mattered. He had been through it before, and even at the beginning he knew what the end would be, for though William was still young he possessed enough experi- ence to estimate a situation. The only thing that really troubled him was why he was angry with Marianne, and why Mari- anne was angry with him. Sometimes he almost felt like saying something kind to Marianne, for he could easily see that she didn’t think it was lovely any longer. Like a good advertising man W illiam was ready when the crisis came. Like a mariner on a charted sea he read the first sign of storm, that ominous signal of trouble before which Hans Andersen had often trembled. Mr. Grimm was beginning to drum on the table. It didn’t mean anything to poor Mari- anne, but William knew, for he had seen Mr. Grimm drum his fingers on the table before. It meant that somebody was going to leave the Hans Andersen-—either he or Marianne, and William knew pretty well which one it would be. Six months ago, | when he and Tommy Rooney were writing just such another soap campaign, Mr. Grimm had drummed his fingers in exactly a similar manner. By some freak William had thought of an idea just in time, and Tommy Rooney had not. Not that Mr. Grimm fired Tommy. Mr. Grimm was too clever a man for that. He had simply put him to taking the wrappers off newspapers, and Tommy had done the rest. “What I want is results,” Mr. Grimm would say. ‘That's what I'm paying for results. And if I don’t get them He would leave his sentence unfinished and drum on his desk. It was the fourth time that William and Marianne had been summoned to his office that Mr. Grimm began drumming again. “We don’t seem to be getting very far,” said Mr. Grimm. pe; ou’re not giving re- sults, either of you,” and he began drum- ming on his desk. ‘The point is,” he went on, “you haven’t thought of anything that’s interesting enough to sell that soap. I’m beginning to believe I'll have to write this campaign myself.” William shrugged his shoulders as the in- terview concluded. For some reason he seemed undisturbed by its ominous aspects, almost relieved, indeed, that the turn had come. Only when he saw Marianne gather up her papers and her notebook did his face cloud. Marianne was looking very tired and pale, so tired that any resentment he felt toward her died just then; and again he felt sorry for Marianne, sorrier than he had ever felt before; so sorry that he won- dered if that hadn’t been the way he had felt all the time, even when he was angry. It was after five o’clock when he and Marianne returned to the copy room. Al- ready the sounds of activity in the office THE SATURDAY EVENING POST were dwindling, and already Ed and Charley and George, free from the curse of Latherol, had gone. William walked over to the win- dow and looked out at the bridges and the ships and at the shadows on the tall build- ings. Then he heard Marianne’s voice beside him. “You know,” Marianne was saying in a strangely timid voice, ‘I don’t think I’ve been very nice to you lately.” William turned slowly from the window, and for the first time in weeks his smile was pleasant and friendly. “Now that’s awfully nice of you to say that,’’ he said, ‘“‘because there hasn’t been any reason for you to be nice, you know. I guess maybe I haven’t been very nice to you, either, Marianne.” “Oh,” said Marianne, dreadful!” “I thought you’d come around to that point of view,” said William. ‘Do you still think old Grimm’s a dear old man?”’ “No,” said Marianne, ‘‘I think he’s per- fectly horrid! Did you see the way he looked at us?” “He’s got a wicked eye,”’ said William, and paused in uncustomary charity. “Do you know what I think?” inquired Marianne in a hushed voice. William shook his head. “TI think he’s going to fire us,” Marianne. “He certainly has it on his mind,” said William. There wassomething quite pleasant about William just then, something that was rest- fully solid and dependable. Though he was faced with losing his job he seemed as calm as he had in those quiet days before Latherol had loomed on the horizon. He was even smiling at her with undisturbed assurance. “Now don’t you worry about losing your job,” he went on suddenly. “I’ve been through this before. It’s going to be a!l right.” “Now, Marianne. William looked at her curiously, and shrugged his shoulders. “Why, you don’t think I’m through with old Grimm yet, do you?” he asked. ‘Why, I haven’t even started with him. I’ve just been sparring for an opening. That’s all! You wait till to-morrow.’ He made a slight supercilious gesture of triumph. “Did you really think I’ve been wor- ried?” he demanded. “Did you really think I expected he’d take any of these ideas? Why, Grimm always tears every- thing to pieces for the first month of any soap campaign. There’s only one thing to do, and that is—look worried. Then batten down the hatches and feed him all the ideas you can think of that aren’t any good—and save the others. He’s got to have some- thing to jump on until he’s tired, and then it’s time to start. That’s why I’m ready to start now. The old boy’s drumming with his fingers.” “Why,” said Marianne, “I think that’s awfully clever of you to have thought of that.’ W — made a modest ge sture of denial. “Not clever,” he said; “just bitter ex- perience, that’s all. I'd have told you about this long ago, except you wouldn’t have believed me. I've felt awfully sorry, really I have, to see you get so tired and worried, and now you mustn’t worry any more. Just you go along home, Marianne, and remember I’m running this show, and that men are useful sometimes when it cqgmes to a real show-down. Just you ré- member it’s going to be all right in the morning. Go home and get a good night’s sleep. All this stuff about losing your job is rot—just remember that.” “But— but what are you going to do to- morrow?” asked Marianne. William laughed, but his laugh seemed rather forced and mirthless. Now that he was speaking, William seemed a little tired, after all. And why should he not? For William knew just then that he had reached a crossing of the ways with sacrifice on one path and glory on the other. “What any man would do,” he said. “The very first day this thing started I thought of the right idea for advertising this soap. Well, to-morrow morning I’m going to tell it to him. He’s all ready for it now. I’m sorry it took so long, but there’s no use telling him anything until he begins to drum on his desk. Just re- member that, Marianne. It’s worth know- ing if you’re going to stay in this office.” A sort of gravity in his words made Mari- anne look at him apprehensively. Even “isn’t it perfectly ” said how do you know that?” asked

January 28,1922 though he said it was all right they sounded almost like a farewell speech. ‘And just remember one thing more, Marianne,” said William, still more gravely. “T may look foolish but I know what I’m doing sometimes. You have to know what you’re doing if you want to live in this town. Now run along home. You're all worn out. You ought not to be doing this sort of stuff, anyway; but don’t worry. That’s the main thing. Never worry. It’s going to be all right.” “But why shouldn’t I werry?” Mari- anne demanded. “Just bevause you're going to tell him an idea you thought of, what’s that to do with me?” For a moment William’s eye wavered under her gaze, and he turned almost guiltily to look out of the window again. “You wouldn’t understand it if I told you,” he said shortly. “It’s the sort of thing that no woman would understand, and it doesn’t make‘any'difference, anyway, as long as you remember that I hi ave a little sense. Good night, Marianne.’ He smiled rather wanly as he watched her close the door of the copy room, and then stared at it for half a minute with knitted brows. There was only one thing he was sure of just then, and that was that Grimm mustn’t fire Marianne. He stood perplexed at the strangeness of his decision After all, what difference did it make? But it did make a difference. Slowly he opened the top drawer of his desk, groped for his pipe, and lighted it. Now that he had decided what to do he could take his own time. The office was very still as he sank languidly into his chair, cheered by the fumes of the tobacco With a luxurious sigh he placed his feet on the blotter before him and reached for the morning paper. Slowly he turned over page after page, until he reached the want advertisements. Now that he had made up his mind what to do, the first thing was to look for a new job. Slowly he ran his finger down the column in such rapt con- centration that he did not hear the door open behind him. But suddenly he gave a guilty start and thrust the paper into the wastebasket. Marianne had come back, and of all the people in the world the one he wanted to see least just then was Marianne. “Tt’s awfully late,” began Marianne. “Yes,” said William; ‘it’s getting later every minute.” “And I was wondering if you’d mind seeing me home,” said Marianne. ‘Not, that I mind myself, but it bothers mother when I’m out so late.” “The trouble with women is,” liam, reaching for his hat, “ running around alone.” “And I wanted to ask you something,” said Marianne as they waited for the ele- vator. ‘“ Doyouremember—long ago, when I came here first—how angry Mr. Grimm was because you gave away a cake of soap?” “You bet I do!” said William with a sigh of relief. So she couldn’t have seen the significance of his reading the want adver- said Wil- they’re always tiseme nts, after all. ‘‘You bet I do! What of it?” “‘Well,”’ said Marianne, and paused to look at the pointed toe of her low shoe, “‘well—I don’t know. I was just wonder- ing.” ““What were you wondering?” he asked. “T was just wondering,” said Marianne, “‘whether the girl you gave that cake of soap to was a business woman.” vig ERHAPS, in spite of his most vigorous protestations, in some latent recess of William’s mind there was a romantic strain, . which existed unsuspected by the crude, hard-fisted comrades of his toil. There seems no other adequate way to explain his conduct that next morning. William prepared himself for his ordeal with a beau geste that an aristocrat facing the Paris guillotine might have been proud to call his own. At the Hans Andersen, where little things are apt to assume large propor- tions, they still remember with a mild sur- prise his changed appearance as he entered the office at nine o’clock. He had on a new suit of a quiet hue, which they had never seen before, a suit so faultlessly pressed that it gave almost the appearance of armor plate. A stiff white collar incased his neck, giving his head a bold and jaunty erectness. The knot in his tie had the symmetry of fine design. His shoes reflected the morn- ing sunshine. For William knew how one should look when the ax was about to fall. (Continued on Page 44)

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST RE rere tae’ Feet ee eos a VNOLDIERS,”’ said Napoleon, ‘from the nections neglected because the 2) summit ot yonde r pyramids forty centurr many an advert! ny campaigt , rT , behold vou! cause it met no real test There is a familiar witticism which says that How many busin tomorrow never comes. It 1s more truthful, if | wish they might go back witty, to say that vesterday never dies. Napoleon ently the things that we tailed in | “ypt because he ct uld not conque! kor business has ha la the past. which it never had befor | . : | that th past live l the lovering over today 1s the living spirit of a j , think of today wa million ye sterdavs. Heredity in history 1s as easily traceable as heredity in character. We may forget And what of tom the past, but it does not forget us. These truth ness must remember operate from day to day and year to year 1n busi will pass in ness with the same’ sureness that the y manifest from century to century in history. The war has left us, but it has not forgotten us. In many industries its effects are still distress ing. How much of this distress might have beer averti avoided, is a matter for thought. This 1s certain: ability. many a dollar was lightly spent and many a policy lightly adopted, bec ause things came so easily: To rrow many a market was ignored and its trade con N. W. A Y kK R oF = O N, ADVERTISING HEADOUARTERS NEW YORK , BOSTON PHILADEIPHIA

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Flelp nature lo keep .yourskin clear, Jresh, lovely. FOU can’t be indif- ferent to the needs of your skin, and expect it to retain its youthful softness and beauty. Nature demands daily assistance if she is to make a healthy, rose- like complexion. i.et Resinol Soap be the assistant. Massage its non-irritating into the copious, lather gently pores. lt rinses easily and takes with it the bits of dead skin and other im- purities, so often the root of complexion troubles. Now see how really clean vour skin feels. Note the smoothness and \dopt the sc of Resinol Soap and softness - delicate glow. begin today to keep the charm of youth! Ve all drug and toilet goods counters. Send for a free trial Dept. 1-Q, Baltimore, size cake. Resinol., Vd. esinol THE SATURDAY (Continued from Page 42) A more timid man might have hesitated at the ordeal before him. William himself could not understand just then what was urging him on. Surely it could not be the spirit of chivalry, for chivalry in an ad- | vertising agency was an absurd, a crass impossibility. But why else would he have | done what he was going to do? William himself could not answer that; and what was stranger still, he did not bother to an- swer. When William finally reached Mr. | Grimm’s office his first glance detected | ominous signs. Mr. Grimm’s chair was on all four legs, and net even a match reposed between his thin lips. Before William was halfway across the carpet Mr. Grimm was giving him his full attention, looking at him with a chill, passionless intensity which concealed so well the lightning and the storm. “Well?” said Mr. Grimm. “Tf you’ve got time,” said William, “I wanted to speak to you for a minute.” Mr. Grimm’s lips curved into a chill, unwholesome smile. “How odd!” he remarked. ‘I wanted to speak to you, too, Jenks. I was just going to have you called in here.” “T thought you would,” said William. “That’s why I got here first. I wanted to tell you before you told me.” Mr. Grimm drummed softly on his desk. “What did you want to tell me?” he asked curiously. “T wanted to tell you,” said William, “that I was through with this place. wanted to tell you so before you had time to say this place was through with me.” “Ah,” said Mr. Grimm. “And may I ask why you thought I'd tell you that?” “Look here,’’ said William impatiently, | “‘what’s the use of asking that? Because I haven’t given any results in this soap | campaign, and because I don’t want to | take wrappers off papers. That’s why. Here! Take your damned old cake of soap!" And upon Mr. Grimm's desk he tossed a green oval cake which fell with a sort of thudding slap upon the dark shining wood. There was a savage dignity in William’s gesture, something consummate in his lofty contempt. For even then, in that last hour, William knew how to handle Mr. Grimm. He did not attempt te conceal his pleasure as he watched Mr. Grimm’s figure stiffen | and his eyes narrow. “‘ And is that all you’ve got to say?”’ Mr. Grimm inquired. “No,” said William more loudly, “it isn’t. Before I get out of here—and I'll be damned glad to go “Look here,” said Mr. Grimm, “has that Kauffman crowd been running after | you?’ | there isn’t “Never mind where I’m going,” said William; “I’m on my way; and wherever I end up, it’s going to be somewhere where a slave driver like you.” “Ah,” said Mr. Grimm, “is that what you wanted to tell me? Because if it is, you've said it very nicely; better than anyone has said it.” William shook his head. “No,” he said, ‘‘that isn’t all. Before I go, Mr. Grimm, I want to speak to you about that girl—-Miss Wright. Mr. Griram, you've frightened that poor girl to death.” “Ah,” said Mr. Grimm, and William raised his voice. “You've frightened her so,’’ he con- tinued, “that she doesn’t dare eome in here. You've frightened her so that she doesn’t dare tell you the biggest idea for advertising soap that anyone’s ever thought of. That's what you’ve done, Mr. Grimm.” EVENING POST Mr. Grimm did not speak, but reached slowly toward a pile of matches, which was placed strategically at his side. How well William knew the man! There he was, on the defensive. There he was, just waiting for some idea—any idea. William knew well enough that old Grimm didn’t want to write that soap campaign himself. “Mr. Grimm,” William continued, his words ringing with a sudden inspired en- thusiasm, “did you ever realize that the pores of the skin open and shut, regulate the temperature of the body? It’s the skin that keeps you from taking cold! Do you get the idea? Every one of those millions, those countless millions, of little pores must be in proper working order if you can hope to withstand the ravages of the American climate. Each one must be properly lubri- cated, vigorous, healthy. Do you get it? Let them get clogged up, let them get sluggish—and your system’s in danger! You're running a risk every time you use the wrong kind of soap. Tell ’em that story, and then tell ’em about Latherol its soothing oils, its antiseptic qualities. Do you get it? Just the bare idea connected with the soap. Can you beat it? I ask you: Can you beat it? And that poor girl was so frightened that she didn’t dare tell you; and that’s why I'm telling you myself.”’ He had said it now. He had struck his blow as a brave man should. He waited. Mr. Grimm had tilted his chair and was looking out over the shipping in the harbor. Finally he turned and brought his chair to rest as its maker had intended. “So Miss Wright thought of that!’’ he murmured wonderingly. “I always knew there was something in that girl.” Suddenly he pulled himself out of his chair. He was walking toward William. His hand was on his shoulder. He was slapping William affectionately on the back! Was the old man going mad? “But I know an idea that can beat it,”” he was saying. ‘‘Yes, b’gad, Ido! Your idea, my boy! I knew you'd come across! You always do in a pinch!” Now what was there wrong with his little speech? Was the old man slipping back- ward down the soapy way? “T only wish it was my idea,” William lied soothingly; “but I told you it was Miss Wright’s, and that she was afraid to come in here with it. That girl’s a wonder, Mr. Grimm! That's what she is!” “No, no,” said Mr. Grimm with a pa- ternal smile. ‘‘What’s the use of beating round the bush? Your idea, my boy. I knew, Jenks, just as soon as I saw you that you'd be a great man in the advertising world.” William could only stare at him blankly. Could it be that he had heard aright? Mr. Grimm had paused. He was clearing his throat diffidently and rubbing his bony fingers over his long chin. “I’m afraid I’ve been a bit brusque at times, my boy. But you'll forgive an old man, won't you--an old man who loves his work? It would have been a big loss to all of us if Miss Wright hadn’t pulled that scheme of yours out of the wastebasket. | ought to have told you long ago that I’m always glad to listen to any idea of yours.” “Look here!”’ cried William. ‘‘Are you crazy or am I?” But Mr. Grimm did not heed him. His eyes were shining, as they always did when he got started on his favorite theme, and his voice was ringing with poetic fervor. ***Fight, Million Bubbles’!’’ he was say- ing. ‘Gad! The audacity of it! ‘And Every Bubble a Sphere of Health’! Jenks, I couldn’t have done better myself. It scans! Itscans! Andthatisn’tall. There’s the cold practicality of it!” January 28, 1922 Look here - ” began William, but what could one man do when Mr. Grimm got like that? “Oh, I looked!”’ cried Mr. Grimm. “I looked when she told me! Why, it made me dizzy. There’s not a soul that won’t be convinced. It was a real stroke, my boy, to prove that Latherol lathers quicker and better than any other toilet soap on the market. It’s genius and figures mixed to- gether. And the slogan! It’s poetry, I tell you! ‘Eight Million Bubbles to Every Cubic Inch’! Who says there isn’t poetry in advertising?” Then something in William’s face made him stop. “Look here!’ said William. ‘“‘I didn’t do this! Do you understand? I didn’t do it at all. It’s Miss Wright’s idea.” But old Grimm only slapped him on the back again. : “Ha!” heroared. ‘‘That’s what she said you’d say! She said you were a modest violet! As though you didn’t have the whole thing tested in the laboratory! As though millions of men and women every- where aren’t going to test it in their homes two months from now! But what beats me, my boy, is why you gave the whole thing up and never told us. But never mind that now!” “Look here!” cried William desperately. “You've got this all wrong!” But he might as well have told it to a dervish then. “Not another word!” said Mr. Grimm. “Not another word! You need the after- noon off, and I want to talk to you. The car’s outside. I’m going to take you to the club and get a white man’s meal.” It was after five when he got back to the office. Over everything was that tired after-five sort of feeling, and William felt tired too; tired, uneasy and conscience- stricken. He didn’t exactly know why, but he stepped into the copy room for a moment before he left, and there was Marianne, bending over her desk, looking at a dull green object before her. It was a piece of Latherol. Marianne!’ hoarsely. She started to her feet and stood there looking at him, and for a moment he couldn't think of anything to say. ‘‘Marianne,” he said at last, “‘why did you do it?” ““I—I don’t exactly know,” said Mari- anne. ‘Except--I guess you’re right. I guess women are sort of foolish.” Now what was there to say after that? It was just what William asked George the next day over the lunch table in the little crowded restaurant where they often ate. It was towards the end of the meal, and George had ceased to eat his éclair as William told him the story. “And that’s all,’’ William was saying, “except--I want to ask you something. You're a married man. You understand women.” ““See here!”’ exclaimed George. ‘‘That doesn’t follow at all.” “Well, anyway,” said William, knotting his eyebrows, “‘‘what I want to know is if you were I, what would you have done under the circumstances?” And George told him. “You always did have a romantic dis- position,”’ said William. ‘ Well,” he went on more loudly as George attempted to interrupt, “I thought I'd tell you. I’m no good at this romantic stuff, you know, and maybe you can tell the rest of ’em, because ’’— he moved uneasily in his chair- ‘because that’s exactly what I did.” ’ said William rather THE THEATER AND THE LAW rule, and, all things considered, a proper one, that the police do not take the initia- tive in making complaints against plays, although at most times there are one or two officers detailed specially for that work. The machinery of the police department does not start unless some citizen makes a complaint or the adverse criticism in the newspapers is so emphatic as to demand recognition at its hands. A complaint once being made to the police commissioner the custom hitherto has been to send, say, two officers who have been detailed for that purpose to wit- ness the play and to make a written report thereon to the chief inspector. If they find Continued from Page 7) the complaint is substantiated and that the play is as alleged they are further instructed to bring the matter to the attention of this office. And thus it has fallen to me for the last ten or eleven years to pass on most of these complaints and, well within our law, to pass into a sort of censorship. When such a case is presented here the management are at once called upon to furnish us with the book of the play, which I make it a rule to read very carefully. If, taking into account the complaint of the police officers as to what they saw on the stage, and the reading of the book, I con- clude that with certain features omitted the play might be brought within the law and avoid the objections which have been raised against it on the point of morality, indecency or obscenity, I point out to the management in the text of the play the words and actions which in my judgment should be entirely omitted. In nearly all cases without process being issued the management have at once acquiesced in these changes and have ex- pressed themselves as willing to meet the objections thus raised and to eliminate the parts deemed offensively illegal. In one or two instances the management insisted I should see the play, and agreed that if Continued on Page 47 } 4

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Vesti STARTING, LIGHTING THE SATURDAY EVENING POST builder, in selecting the electrical equipment on that car, has considered the stability of the company manufacturing it. But that is only one of many reasons for the manufacturer’s choice. One of the considerations that influence the car builder is the ability of the manufacturer of electrical equipment to serve the car owner wherever he may be and whenever he may need it. To meet these requirements Westinghouse has established two hundred and fifty service stations throughout the United States. Each of these stations employs Westinghouse trained men and has genuine Westinghouse Parts avail able, assuring the car owner of the service to which he is entitled. WESTINGHOUSE ELECTRIC n¢ Some Plain Facts For Car Owners When a man buys a car he assumes that the The man who owns a car equipped with Westinghouse Starting, Lighting and Ignition Units can be confident that the builder of that car has selected the electrical apparatus not only for the maintenance service available but also for the service built into the apparatus itself. This Built-In Service is processed into Westinghouse Equipment in a plant that is devoted exclusively to the manufacture of electrical automotive apparatus It is the natural and logical result of the years of engi neering experience, of research, and of testing, that have been brought to bear to deve lop the best materials and methods for this purpose. Here you have potent reasons why Westing house has the Ability, as well as the Will, to Serve. & MANUFACTURING COMPANY Automotive Eqipment Department Sales and Service Headquarters: 82 Worthington Street, Springfield, Mass. ervice Use Only Genuine Parts. Beware of Parasite Parts-Makers house & IGNITION EQUIPMENT

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Are you buying lubrication, or accepting just ‘‘oil’’? There is a vast difference—a difference infinitely greater than most motorists realize Look over your repair bills for last year. They will show pretty definitely how your engine is being lubricated. Note how many are for carbon removal—valve grinding cylinder reboring — new bearings— new pistons or piston rings c'eaning spark plugs. Do you know why these troubles exist? Why their cost represents one-third of the upkeep on the average car? The answer is fau/ty or improper lubrication—the use of an oil inferior in quality or a good oil of the wrong type. And the reason for this is that 75 per cent of car own- ers are asking for just “oil’’—accepting whatever hap- pens to be offered If motorists realized what this practice was costing them in repairs, weakened engine power, low gas and oil mileages and in depreciation, they would stop asking for just ‘“‘oil’’ at once. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ms Hh Mita ae Stop! Piiieek!— before you another quart of motor oil afl fh busy It pays to know the type of high quality oil that fits your particular engine and then always to insist on getting it. SUNOCO Motor Oil is your opportunity. It is not only vastly different from but far superior to ordinary motor oil. SUNOCO is noi a compound of a light oil and a heavy cylinder oil, as are ordinary oils. It is wholly-distilled, therefore free of any gummy residue to cause hard carbon deposit, dirty spark plugs, leaky valves and other troubles. SUNOCO is made in six scientifically refined types—free- flowing in any temperature to reach all frictional surfaces, yet heavier than the average to maintain maximum compression, insure full engine power, prevent “oil pumping” and stop leakage of raw fuel into the crankcase. Any SUNOCO dealer will tell you the SUNOCO type exactly suited for your particular engine. He follows the ‘**Sunoco Lubrication Guide.” Try SUNOCO at once and note the immediate improve- ment in your engine’s performance. You will be astonished also at your saving on fuel, oil and repairs. SUN COMPANY Producer and Refiner of Lubricating Ouls, Fuel Oil, Gas Oil, Gasoline and Other Petroleum Products f P " j TAAH LO’ se ee Ba r j 4 Philadelphia MOTOR OIL * January 28,1922 Branch Ofhces and Warehouses in 32 Principal ( | | |

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST (Continued from Page 44) after that I still found it illegal and objec- tionable they would take it off, which they did. In other cases it has fallen to me, as it were, to collaborate with managers and others in the revision and, you might say, sterilization of certain plays. In one play which ran for a considerable time and where the title was so misleading as to give no indication of its character, a very sug- gestive scene indicating sexual immorality was at once stricken from the play, and other changes were made. After this had been agreed to, at the request of the man- agement I visited the theater and took a seat behind two very stout gentlemen who had dined liberally and well in the dampen ing times of old. One of them was evi- dently a country merchant and the other a city dealer. The city man had assured his rural friend that the play was salacious and most attractively indecent. He had seen it before the changes were made. His country friend remonstrated with him from act to act that nothing as yet had been shown which was up to the promises made, and finally, after they had slept through another act, they both went out of the theater thoroughly disgusted and disap- pointed. Some of these plays, to keep. within the law, are cunningly devised to meet such patrons, stimulating their anticipations as to some very erotic scenes, in which sugges- tive language and lack of clothing are to predominate. In one play of international repute which came to this country some years ago, objection was made to the pas- sionate and undisguised animalism of the love-making between a man and a woman connected with the famous ballet. The explanation given to me was this couple were man and wife and the woman was very jealous of her husband, and if he didn’t make very robust love to her she would conclude that he was unfaithful. Frequently plays - offensive to la numbers of people because of their title, such as madonnas and virgins In two cases of conspicuous plays the | complal nt was based upon the fact that the > gave ‘ no indication of the character we the play Two representative women of this cits complained that they had been lured to see a well-known play called Tiger, Tiger, thinking it possibly related to natural his- tory. I made a short comment on this later on, saying among other things: ‘The title is misleading and deceptive, and proved so to persons who write to me that they were attracted to the play by the well known artistic ability of the manager in staging productions, and a title whict might be suggestive of many things in nature or art. It is also inappropriate be cause the tiger is a monogamous animal, avoiding promiscuity, and, generally speak ing, chaste and reserved in its sexual and domestic relationships.” The Puritanical Cop In the other case a gentleman having his family here for the holidays asked the boys to elect what play they wanted to go to, and seeing a title which indicated probably a sparring match they found themselves listening to scenes in a disorderly house, which was the motive of the play. There was a play written not long ago by a very well known dramatic critic which on investigation I concluded came within the law. An attempt to revise, reconstruct and sandpaper the ob jectionable features was entered upon, during which I received much encouragement in prosecuting the play from those who considered themselves the victims of the critic’s pen in the theatrical world. There was “ one time a police officer de- iiled to the business of inspecting plays which had been ¢ omplained against to the lepartment. He was a very serious-minded man of good ability and about as far re- moved from a dramatic critic or an expert as could well be imagined, which in the law lid not disqualify him. He took his task seriously, solemnly and zealously. He used to come here to the office with-the com- plaint all ready to be sworn to and blank warrants to be filled up. The one great ambition and dream of his life was to back up the patrol wagon at the stage entrance and take all engaged in the play to the sta- tion house. He believed in surgery and had no faith in medicinal treatment. The increase in the number of such plays and the brazen effrontery and defiance with which they are foisted upon the public rather incline me to view with more charity this philistinic attitude of the police officer. On the other hand it seemed to me that we should take into account the lax and unor- ganized public opinion, the undue adver tisement of the questionable plays, and where it was at all possible with the mini- mum of publicity to deodorize, as it were, expurgate, sandpaper and cleanse the play, it was a more effective remedy than to resort to drastic measures, even if entirely legal. In the cases with which I have had to deal it is only just that I should say that hitherto the management have generally been willing either to accept at once the modifications pointed out or take the play off the stage. Shows which are obviously indecent and obscene, such as occasionally erupt on Broadway, are more easily dealt with. During the hot summer months complaint was made to me by the police and citizens that certain agile dancers of international fame were performing prac- tically without clothing. I called the man- agement on the telephone at once and told them that in spite of the weather this must be remedied not later than that night. I was assured that the exhibition was en tirely athletic, made no appeal to lascivious- minded peop le, and that the exercise was » violent that it could not be performed = less in an attire such as might be adopted by savage dancers in the torrid zone. The demand for extra clothing, however, was at once complied with, much, as I have no doubt, to the disappointment of certain portions of the audience, s Differences of Opinion As the law now stands and in its practical workjng in the city, the police commis sioner in addition to other great responsi- bilities has to some extent the power of a censor of plays and exhibitions. Latterly the present commissioner has adopted somewhat the same »lan as the Lord Cham berlain—that is, appointed a committee to whom he refers these matters. This com- mittee consists of the chief inspector and two of the honorary deputies. Their re ports on plays submitted to me in connec- tion with complaints have generally been in agreement with my own conclusions; but in one conspicuous instance there was an honest difference of opinion of three plays alleged to be immoral and indecent and more or less obscene and all of them vulgar. My own opinion was that they had given immunity to the most offensive, and condemned more unsparingly the one which came leas the law. They were of course entire honest in their opinion, because the question whether a impure or inde cent is one in which clean-minded and honest people can differ. = play is obscene, in Moreover, reading the book of the pl and witnessing its performance create dif ferent impressions. It is alwa best to do both before arriving at any conclusion; of at least, after havi i the testimony of th e who have witnessed t} , connection, however, that the test in | land is entirely in the reading of the play in book form and it cannot be put on the stage at all without a permit from th censor. Very frequently, too, suggestive ords and phrases are spoken on the stage which are missed as to their meaning | the audience in watching the actions of the players, or pass unnoticed in a ripple of laughter which may at that time go over the house; and sometimes the nasty and vile text can be more or less disguised by clever acting; a a which give no indication that those speal ing the phrases atta viously significant meaning hy ot Of late years a few managers ca discredit and suspicion on the s t] city by gross indecencies in the g of women on the stage in so-called bed: farces. These plays of di ng, and ve ry suggestive retirements in clei by women, having become, as it were, over done, especially in the drawing power for audiences, of late they have taken to ur dre g men in bedrooms and women in stables and rolling them in haymows wi only the slightest portion of their persons — and if it we not for the law 1 am quite sure some of these pe ul he sitate to produce a play giving an exhibi- tion of entire nudity y, and ca rry the scenes and language to any limit. It would be ceiallecii unfair to con- demn all New York theaters on account of exceptions, and to arraign a profe far-reaching influence fur instruction and amusement on account of the baseness and greed of a few. Left to themselves the would bay the profession of acting back to what it was when actors were classed a me and vagabon ls, and authors vied with one another in shameless indecencie: of plot and word No matter what they say about art, the real test with such peo ple is the amount of money received at the box office. Now, it is quite true that the majority of the people who go to see these plays want that sort of thing, and equal true that there are sufficient of them to keep such theaters going; ! e other hand among this 1 of people are the unwary, decer it pec of all ages and bot} sexes, whi llowing the rather loose and vague st cathe nt in advertisements that the play is funny there in considerable num bers. In a letter written by me a short time ago to a theater manager with reference to a play against which a complaint had beet made, I said: “You may say in reply, that the publie wants such farces and comedir ind will point to a well-t ater y, tainly, your theater is well filled, a would all the theaters in New York cluding gs Square Garden and the Hippodrome, be filled with thousands of narcotic addicts if the law permitted one to cater to their diseased appetites by furnishing them with the drug and the fa cilities for taking it, and it would be ar immensely profitable business. Because certain persons want to feed morbid mind and diseased bodies with poisons is one of the reasons why the t law is as it is in order to save these people from themsel “Out of the great population of this city there will always be a percentage of per verted minds with lasciviou cli and a low order of ir telliger nee, and out ideals or pring who will readil furnish an audien that is no reason mitted to braze nly off ments of decent, clean-living pe ple who are overwhelmingly in the major ve Should We Have a Censor? There are certain farces on the stage in this city at the present moment to which it would be an outrage to take a decent young girl, or allow her to go there, not to spea of the young man. They have no proper warning about these farces; they read that they are a bit vulgar, but they are ents taining, and that the play is laughable but coarse. These notices cor tain no pecil warning. They are told that it is fur that the acting is admirable, and being a: bitious to be considered men and wome! the world and not fir t and pul tanical—ard good sports, and of being abl to boast of seeing ich pla ¢ ’ there in considerable num} yu will see foolish parents take family to witness this kind of play The diagnosis of a moralist t net led to in lagine the etlect wi ! ire quent attent dance on these pla with approval of parents and guardians must create It is an old and a trite quotat but it especi appl le to these peritorma t if ‘ mster of so frightful 7 en, 1s fo be hated needs but to be een: ye en too oft, familar with her face, We first endure, then pity, then embrace And this is particularly so when tl mind ing and impre Lyle os At t i | | peu eithe t Wa | i d lual in the fr r pictu i here 1 str i c l It i ra I t v ! t where pe i ‘ ! que ! ol m ( mee t « the } ft who pr ‘ i t fer ‘ wi really they are prostitut for profit ik¢ It eeCT t il | da makes the ive le I t w! is I said before far f t, the stage being a wed a freed meth ay that of the press. I make bold t iggest t t al cu t1 ‘ mplaint to t) police commissioner, he is at perfect liberty to take advice from a con d by himself, and ask them (Continued on Page 49 | _— BEL pee The Successful Light Weight Piston . | Offic tally Tested Ohio State University This Piston Astounded _ Them l ’ DELUX] DELUXE Pistons Save Gas and Oil DELUNI DELUNEP DELUXE Pistons Increase Power, Flexibility and Speed DELUXE Pistons Stop Vibration DrLUNI ( t | DELUXE Pistons For Your Motor DELUANEP | Clark- ‘Turner Piston Co. INC. Los Angeles California |

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aiiith PEGCPEOUSGOET EC USCPEUETEERTERUTE DEED ER TERED Eaten VOUHHOVUV EU LESLOUCLONSUCDES UU OUT LSLEcceemmmmmmmmme LLLLLL NANO NNUGUDUDEDOOOOHUNUaHEONURGEONOLOO DODO cUeoneseseondusd uasousooauen sgoouet veetinl 1} I] mT PTH mrt THE SATURDAY EVENING POST January 28,1922 Do You ence the Store We Mean? There’s a store near you that has been selected as agent tor the sale of Whitman’s Chocolates. Usually it’s a drug store. Anyway it is noted for its enterprise and fair-dealing, and for its spirit of service. It will profit you to know this store. This store only carries Whitman's candies, and it offers you a wide variety. It gets every package direct from Whitman’s and guarantees satisfaction with every package sold. If you do not, write and ask us STEPHEN F. WHITMAN & SON, Inc., Philadelphia, U. S. A. Sole Makers of Whitman's Instantaneous Chocolate Cocoa and Marshmallow Whip Chicago Branch: 1537 Michigan Avenue, South {I \I| = UU I li TOT TTT TTT aKKWqWwWw6=#=uounnit UTTTE iabtidinbiii Hit janenit BITTE dd

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Continued from Page 47) opinion as to whether or not it comes within the law. Such a committee should, I think, have representatives of the theater and the legal profession as well as ‘lerics and laymen, but not be quite so large as that suggested by Mr. Chesterton, who said he thought a body something about the size of the London Council would be the proper limit. I think on the English committee there are two playwright-managers, men of inter- national reputation, who conduct clean theaters; in other words, a committee whose findings would be entitled to respect from the fact that it was composed of men of good intelligence, if not of culture, men of experience in the questions involved, not unreasonable, morally and spiritually in accord with the standards of morality upon which society is founded. Such a com- mittee might ask itself whether or not it is conducive to the public welfare to permit illegal and offensive plays, which make marriage and the family tie a matter of farce and joke, and in which free love and promiscuity of sex are displayed, and every appeal made to lust and license. Playwrights as Teachers I do not consider a play dealing se- riously with social subjects in any wise so objectionable, illegal, offensive, indecent or tending to corrupt public or private morals is some farces which are now running upon the boards of this city. After all, as Mr. Shaw says, he is seriously attacking con- entional morality, because he believes it is immoral. His mode of attacking may of itself be offensively illegal, but he has a erious object in view. He is trying, so he iys, to preach a lesson with wit, invective, ircasm, Which lesson may be one against the standards of decency and morality as iid down in the law. We have gotten far heyond the worst Mr. Shaw has done or do. Shall we look at these plays solely from the standpoint of the playwright, the man- ? We hear a great deal ag and the actors? of the trite phrases, ‘‘ checking the works of genius,” “‘repressing the artistry of the tage.”’ It is quite true that art when di- rected to noble ends and an elevated idealism has been one of the most potent influences in molding civilization. But on the other hand, in the history of the world we have seen art appealing to everything which is gross and base, and note that when it was at its very zenith in Greece and Rome the morals of the people were most decadent. Cruelty and lust and dis- regard of human life, with women reduced to chattels, were predominant features of those times. Amid the glories of Roman architecture and statuary men for the amusement of rulers fought with wild beasts, cruel injustice and tyranny abounded, and the vast majority of man- kind were reduced to a position below that of domestic animals in our day. Poetry and oratory of the highest order; great numbers of people did nothing other than attend the numerous theaters and shows gods and goddesses were patrons and pro- tectors of the obscene and base. Are the producers of such plays as men- tioned here, in the name of art and a licentious freedom, to lead the way back to the grossness, baseness, lust, lechery and decadence of old pagan culture? Will the managers who produce serious and pur- poseful plays, or those which intelligently amuse, allow this foul growth to over shadow and poison the whole theatrical world? The laws of this state deal severely witt anyone corrupting the morals of a cl inder sixteen years of age. What about an agency that corrupts the morals of young people, not to speak of old people, without regard to age, and does so in a wholesale way? Scholars and travelers have judged the civilization and morals of countries by their pastimes and amusements, and especially the plays of their stage. How vividly the manners and morals of the upper classes in England are shown in the plays of the Restoration—Charles II; in the coarse eroticism in the stories and plays of the Eastern countries; in the gloomy pessi- mism, decadent morals and utter hopeless- ness of much of the literature of Northern furope in our times. Happily for us, these lays are not the predominant features of he modern stage, although all too com- mon. Decent and clean plays enjoy un- usually long runs, and in the end must be ' ) I THE SATURDAY more of a monetary success than this de- liberate catering to everything that is inde- cent and revolting, and which makes managers not producers but panderers. We are often told that official. inter- ference with this class of plays is to adver- tise them and help the managers make more money out of them. Where the prosecution ends in failure or an ineffective compromise I quite agree to that. No prosecution should be begun except with the purpose to suppress the play or make it comply with the law, and to punish the managers, authors and actors. The day when one of these managers and authors goes to the penitentiary for a substantial term of imprisonment will be the greatest possible triumph for the legitimate drama and the self-respecting members of the theatrical profession. Many people de- clare that any effort to check this type of filth will be ineffective because of the vast influence of the organized theaters, reach ing out in so many directions. I do not share such hopelessness of view. It will be noted in reading the English law that it prohibited plays which imperiled the preservation of decorum or the public peace. There is no reference in the law of this state to the public peace in connection with plays. Under the rules adopted by the English censor recent plays and screen productions which, casting odium and ridicule upon foreign nations with which we are at peace and inciting hatred against them, would not have been permitted. The law and the practice, therefore, in both countries are widely separated, although in New York the police commissioner comes as close as anyone to being the censor of plays, and next to him is the license commissioner. The power of this latter officer has been greatly overlooked. He has a very wide- ranging authority and recent decisions of the courts have enlarged this in the matter of licensing theaters or revoking the license. If a condition should arise in which the public became seriously incensed and aroused, and if a certain type ol manager wert determinedly bent on degrading the stage and menacing public morals, the power of this officer, with that of the police commissioner, would, I am sure, be found amply sufficient, but with a delay greater than under a censorship. Under general law the police have sum mary power to arrest without warrant for offenses committed in their presence, but in the case of the theaters this power might readily be abused. It is often said that when the police or the magistrate, as in my case, entertains a complaint against this class of plays, and the matter becomes public, we are helping them through the box office. That is dis tinctly not so, as far as my experience go¢ Several plays were immediately driven from the stage by threat of prosecution; others were radically amended by omitting reprehensible, indecent and offensive words and actions, and others so sterilized and renovated that, their appeal to indecency being extracted, they died an early death. Suggested Remedies A police officer would have the same right to arrest for an indecent exposure on the stage as on the street There is, however, undoubtedly a very strong public opinior against police officers, or representatives of incorporated societies for the suppression of vice and crime, determining for them- selves on the spot whether or not certair acts and words are illegal, and taking sum- ry action into their own hands. Out of all the cases that have been brought to me officially I have never issued a warrant but in one instance, and on the other hand I do not want to be considered as preaching compromise with these evil forces. Cor ditions may arise where the defendant should be shown no consideration, and where the letter as well as the spirit of the law should be promptly enforced nless, therefore, the emergency is very great and the evil immediately menacing, the or derly process of the law should be followed To sum up the situation, therefore, and consider what are the remedies for the present conditions: First, to appeal to the enlightened self- interest, if not to a sense of shame, of the managers themselves; and to beget within their own ranks a controlling opinion as to the inadvisability of allowing such produc- tions as are spoken of in this article to be put on the stage; Continued on Page 51 EVENING POST x ~~ Both Are Wheat But one is steam-exploded— Puffed to 8 times normal size Putted Grains were invented by Prof. A. P. Anderson He ealed the grain n vu then revolved them for an hour in fearful heat 1} tur the moisture in each food cell team When e gui t hot er 100 | ea expl 1 occur in every kernel ‘ food ce , tect or Cas) ind complet Th t h \ we vet cst ! ‘ n al 1 ike ( nut H object Wa l¢ ] ( hese vhole I emptit \y | htevel yranule lee Whole whi ] eo () rie ( ‘ cl lrer vert \ \ | re re el ( \\ ‘ \ t ‘ , tled Ik ct ) ‘ ‘ t bre } ‘ ‘ rt ‘ And tl W l king whol foods delig Itiplied the \ VW | re ‘ t | ‘ ‘ j { 7 4 ’ ; ld. You wall ne rf on Ire ‘ rve ‘ } } a Par tte ( Puffed Wheat Puffed Rice The firest cereal foods in existence | r The Quaker Oals Ompany, soe Makers

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. A. / SO A SMALLER SIX COMING SOON CAR of remark able economy, power and comfort, weighing 2500 pounds fashioned after the present Davis Six —and establishing , , another wonderful value. We are ready now to pive ilers all the facts on thi +) smaller Ox, THE SATURDAY EVENING POST January 28,1922 Whe | COUPE TOURING CAR HE Davis Company owes no man an over-due dollar. It has large cash reserves in the bank. It has borrowing capacity that has never been used—and Its entire financing is conducted with its own surplus and reserves. Its overhead is remark ably low. It did not over-expand during the days of temptation. It continued an even course of safe, sound production then—just as in every one of its twelve successful vears of automobile manufacture. Davis is the oldest quantity user of Conti Nothing is more important to a purchaser nental Motors in the world. In the Davis ofa motor car than the reliability, stability { : . . } . }°y" } and charaé¢ter of its maker. Demonstrated Six you will also find Timken, Delco, and ability to build a fine car at a fair price over a period of — other of the best specialized unit all indicative eats—and its finest car at its fairest price in 1922 Davis standar f quality, of Davis power and perforn this is a record that must spring from stability and . ance, and of the enduring worth which is respor Mi td ‘ charatter. And ¢Azs is the Da record, for the high re-sale ba/ue of Davis cars. Consider and compare the 1922 Davis Six carefully. Keep all of these points in mind. We will send you additional information on request. The VourinG Car $1795 The Couré $2595 The SEDAN $2595 The Fie erTAWwAy $1895 The Man 0’ War $1895 At the Factory, Plus War Tax t the Chicago Automobile Show, ‘Fanuary 28 to February 4 GEORGE W. DAVIS MOTOR CAR CO. RICHMOND, IND., U.S.A.

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b fi ¥ " 4

(Continued from Page 49) Second, to arouse the self-respect of the theatrical profession; to excite a spirit of ndignation in individual artists, against the prostitution of their art to the furtherance f such productions; Third, to arouse a_ well-informed, } ughtful and organized public opinion with reference to the cleansing of the stage from these outbreaks of foulness

on the

into consideration the following facts: Elli sland has been badly overcrowded during arly operation of the Three Per Cent aw because of the persistence of certain steamship lines in bringing more immigrants t If all steamship lines

than the law allowed conform to the law there will be no crowd ing. The cleanliness of Ellis Island is not surpassed by the immigrant accommoda- tions of any steamship line plying to New York. Sleeping quarters are thoroughly eaned every day; all bedding is bot! fumigated and sterilized daily; the floor which are tiled, are thoroug! ly cleaned sey ral times a day; and the dining-room floor ( leaned be fore each me al The food l rtainly as good as that served to stee rage

passengers On any steamship As ila of warning, the exact status of each cou try’s quota is published in New York ever working day at noon, company can easily inform itself—unless it » to read the English language—of he exact situation, and thi Y and every steamship

mum of exertion, avoid bringing imr grants in excess of the quota The Battle With Dirt The British charges, like so many of the charges concerning the evils of the Three Per Cent Law, were obviously what might be called a trifle hasty. These things are particularly unfortunate; for although they without foundation, they irrita British public and so tend to damage the friendly relations between Engl America. This fact i mmigration commissi

te tne

recog!

yner at

Robert E. Tod, who is ar vith wide experience as a ar executive. He has studied imr Europe Dy viewing it at first hand, and it l his contention that |

as good an institution o 3 maintained. He has offered, therefore, to do away with regular procedure, whict usually frowns or wing representative of other nations to mix too deep] it domestic matters, and to allow the Britis} pove ment to place everal representa tives permanently on Ellis Island in orde t ure themsel ve that immigrant ire ot being treated improper! It should be understood that the ho pitality which is offered at El Island ot the same luxurious sort of bait ar board that one receives from the Ritz or rie Ambassador; nor ame pussyf freedom from objectionable character na the I syfooted service and e san ne would on League or the

Knickerboc!} b. Anybody whostepped from a quiet well-ordered home into ne mell the turmoil whicl are brought to Ell land by prese I rrants wouldn't like I is Isla It would make him sick, to put if he had to linger in it for an time So, would the most dining room of the largest and fi n the world, if it were filled wit! i and set. A large number of the people ! too,

s through Ellis isiand are

king, offensive-mannered indi 1 ‘ew of then have an\ large cones tion of cleanliness or neatne and mar of them are so constituted and so trained that they disregard any order that n't rieked at them. In this connection two examples came to my attention in Europe whict station should not } ow W ya 1 immigrant be judged too harshly by persor unfa miliar with immigrants. Shortly after I reached Rotterdam last winter the largest } ’ and Holland-Amerika finest ship of the Line sailed for New York. She had just come out of dry dock, where she had been completely overhauled and made as spot less as it is possible to make a amship tarting at about nine o’clock in the morr of the day of sailing, a matter of 2000 immigrantsfrom Northeastern Furope were

part of certain managers. Why should the public boycott an actor on or off the screen because of alleged bestiality, and yet patronize the theaters of managers who persistently violate the law and outr the feelings and jority of the people Fourth, select a representative committee of cit

ities of the g sensibDi

to have the police commissioner zens Outside of the department, to advise THE SATURDAY EVENING POST SHUTTING THE SEA him as to whether or not a produced play is infringing the law and menacing the pub lic morals and sense of decer or to give at least his official sanction and he t ucn a disinterested committee ind them in all legitimate wa Ma ens of the highest standing w t é deserve public confide ew [ } yf etters received by me, be yw f ) vith ch a bod

ra ] AP I & Lowy 4 foot (Continued from Page 11 1 aboard this spick-and-span vesse At noon, when all of them had been safely towed aboard, I went down tl immigrant quarters witn repr United States Public | rough the esentatives ol lea th service

and of the Rotterdam consulate The decks and cabins that had been spotle three hours before were littered with paper orange peel, food scraps, empty bottle discarded bits of clothing and varicus dirt looking odds and ends. The ship was st clean, but in three hours’ timeits immigrant quarter had taken on the appearance of a mammoth pigpen, On another occasior was takingalook around the town of Kalu a typical Polish town about a hundred out of Warsaw on the straight vad to Brest-Litovsk. Wherever I went hundredsof the town’s population, all f all ragged and to get to America over my dead bod rowded and jostled and so ardently that I all apparently determine around camera nor m} nto rooms with me and when I

put guards on the door in one large roor the crowd oozed past the guards and filled he room to suffocation in less than five inute My interpreter, who had beer vaned to me by the American Relief Ad ministration, spoke in plaintive tones to the crowd time after time, begging it to give u room in which to work; but they continued to squeeze up against us and stare at u open-mouthed. At length I told my guide it if he didn’t get the assemblage out from under my ¢ Ww d legs I'd leave his town flat on its back and never retu again. Thus threatened with some ort of lo our guide wi spurred to tant action. He charged int »> the crowd wit hoarse raucous nout He kicked and struck at those who were slow at retreating, and foamed at the mouth in | rage This time the crowd got ba ind stayed ba No othe form of treatment se« it make ar mpression on ther Anti-Restriction Sob Stuff A Antwerp official who handled great imbers of emigrants f N he ‘ Eu e each weel te gome t ‘ uid: ‘‘Four-fifths of these pe er ‘ handled an entire differs , t i'd handle Americans or Eng men ¢ Belgians or Dutchme If it t ‘ quiet method i're not ¢ to get a where with ther 6% } ‘ et ised and ited at the wh cour trie nd the ! yve for l¢ yu hout at ner ? i evere wa hat wi ! rrant cente { Is ¢ lence of unt juent nea lé ( t r re empnhat t i a fect la nave got to be 1 everydod t who knows anyt! , about im The bitter complair igainst E I ind weve Vi ) ( appeal g as the United ‘ f f } yr ( t ( cu t the 1’ tende earte ‘ wee a hin protest against estric i | t 1 e the Congre of the I ted States to repe the laws that are causing the how dit il material protest Z against the ¢ | yrat ! rest t being supplied tor i newspapers in different par f e cou tr newspape that rely for part of their contents on the cheap ndicate materia known in newspaper circles as boiler plate As a result of this, some peculiar thing come te light One see for exam) ee, sma Southern newspape! tnat ! t “aiw bee irdently in favor of mmigrat re t tior iddenly blossoming ou wit article pa Or itel a I iW mig r evils for which the present restrictive

esponsiblie ymmetime NV hie tra to their source, these ; cles are fou t have originated wit! ometies wh x to further the interes f various Eu eu race Always, too, when legislat contemplated which shall help a littl

improve the type of immigrant whi America 1 getting, representative of these cleties hasten to Wa gto ippear be fore the House Immigration Committee ind fight eve chang The irgument are ) ‘ iia l ised ft i tle ( gy irom the em be of the ’ e usu p ther nt t { tnat I e t ( ited G liar mt lor ea cradle The repre entative ol ese societi¢ t might be remarked 11 t ng O€ never i ‘ ta for the races w! nh the epreser , ime sort of treatment that i rode everyone els¢ but alwa appear t lemand preferential treatment, The lare leal has little or no charm f ther I'he Vant ratner more than a rt i f they don’t get it they claim wildly tl ‘ ire being discriminated t Results of the Three Per Cent Law Per Cent Law, in the fir nths of operation, resulted in the T nree mo g beneficial change During the September and Octe followu mont of ber

or one-third came from t} i ther t and west of to S80 pra tically all the immigration to the United States was Nordic in character After 188¢ the Nordic immigration was overwhelms by the more backward, unassimilable, ur desi e immigration from | ter i! Southern Europe; and durir the n t f Ju Augi eptember and Octobe 1913, wl h was the last norn eu if rest ted immigration, o er Cel ‘ » l I gra came | I r \ < ri of the t ind west f Eu ‘ ( ¢ ient he hree Per Cent Law the t four r of erat } yung e of migration | tow ne i i A nf ‘ eve ind W te tne 1 tt ( ] i le ‘ yr ¢ f é i ef T »~-T | ol ‘ t ‘ ot grants ! 1 ( and ‘ I ‘ imit ‘ ere | f ‘ huarter f ‘ f Northern and West« I ‘ mitted in the first f | r of 192214 ( ind East | nd at least 45 per I t le to nary f the | ted States pre it of Nord for there are alv r numbe f t mer i t é VI st I 1 ne A m Ca fa { mor ‘ _" e hect ind ‘ i ‘ T ‘ me | i ‘ le | le and a! l I i bee to 5 I irequ re tT t ! ‘ i t ! t t toe ‘ eye if Ve Here on ea } ‘ jogica " f dilfere log r | ‘ These , ‘ terest ‘ 1 ted { , bai iar cr re t Mi Phe } he doesn t ind ‘ of Wa ind I Per Ce | pe indesir dum pe elr ae he ta dist ‘ Let u wi t gove ae ( Ruma f the irge 1 4 ile ting | ‘ alf 4 ) A Ame | ‘ He \ } end to Europe t gra ’ ‘ f 0 ( | | « } ne Lt ce r

yuld fail, the Shall the extended ‘ , e fr i are Ul ) tructive to to publi hecked

t que or the hea erned verful ec rais

e and

ure itior There are till Ol g d Americans who hoid wi HDeleVE in race purl t bef many years have gone ‘ t ted American who VW that race | ty is the prime tne ll-being of his children ed existence of the America ar Franklin and Jeffersor ind Eme n and Lowell and vot features of the Three ) the way in whien it i is Ul thousands of ! isit i¢ t be " for no reason except to ea money and thet et te i of them Ihe extre fairne of the law ‘ irate ¢ ita t« se | divided int ‘ Vy ) I exam} at the tuation nh count a lrurkey Poland ar Czecho f t hall be pened the Three Per Cent gned to the “ untry ! { the immigrant The t ! i next to nothing in ( i large percentage oj IM ire ibjected to the of ra that the hate and great ur f the residents of eam wit ndignatior called Rumania Similarly of the residents of Poland Tuseé u t that the ire of birth, however, i Pe | tne ted a P j atior ! ita i al t ( le aren't tt t! from ‘ l ! thinking t } entitling hir ! ind August . k imitted t the r j of the l t jt g fror \ i i 10 { ‘ i ol yt hve a Mur were I | who w to 1 April will learr Arme i i (sree I t ( ip) Une ta t! ihe l t 4 ! j it Ti Purl iota , I the pop \ ) t Ar 10 ( | ‘ the ( O pe ongress Still Considering irrany ia pul té m ‘ i peo whict he I m i ‘ ! ' ‘ i ot ‘ Arne ‘ ‘ La i | ' t Y i Ver (sé mtinued on Page

Page 54

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST January 28,1922 CHEW IT AFTER EVERY MEAL — SEE |

Page 55

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST pal”

. » Sia eo . s + ; pipe Wrigley’s is especially helpful after eating, as its use increases the flow of saliva, thus helping the stomach to handle its load. So we say, use it after every meal. Wrigley’s helps to keep the teeth white and clean and to prevent decay by removing food particles. It is soothing to mouth and throat. Wrigley’s affords benefit and pleasure in generous measure and is the most economical sweetmeat you can buy. ‘The wax-wrapped, impurity-proof package keeps Wrrigley’s fresh, clean and full flavored.

wy KA, , ; c4 - y 4 ) _- X 1 /“ 7 . J "A > . “Ze A ‘ Ass we) . - , as 4 r y ‘ > A ; ¢ H, C A“ - 4 » . \ “ : * . 7 ‘ f/ \ Ll ae) X Fy! % . ee . yy ff ‘ . \" (4 A . \ ALA . AN _ \ [ere oe eee De A j | \ , ~N . ' x * a 4 a ¢ y ve : ‘Ss 3 q fre ay W MUCH BETTER YOU WILL FEEL HO

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(Continued from Page 51) came were exhausted. This, by the way, is a condition which must inevitably obtain for many years under any genuinely re- strictive immigration law. At this dis- covery the House Committee decided overnight to replace the percentage law, if possible and as soon as —s with a law admitting only the blood relatives of American citizens or of aliens who have lived for three years in America. Since the House Committee, which has been gravely considering the immigration question for many years, has no definite plan for permanent legislation, it is im- possible to predict what sort of immigra- 'tion law the United States will have by | of tne quota; | settle the next June. If the House has its way the country will have a law admitting only blood relatives. If the Senate doesn’t like this idea any better than it did a year ago it will throw it contemptuously in the wastebasket and reénact a percentage law. Now a percentage law can be made pretty good, if every congressman doesn’t use his influence to have people admitted in excess and a blood-relative law can be made pretty fair if it is actually re- stricted to husbands, wives and minor children of citizens and near-citizens. But if it begins to include brothers and cousins and nephews, it is no restrictive law at all; for everybody in Central Europe has a relative in America. Both of these meas- ures, however, would be purely temporary, and would eventually have to be replaced by a sensible and scientific restrictive law. The great danger of these temporary measures, which are invariably shot full of holes by political guns who vote for them and then try to beat them, lies in the fact that if Congress keeps on reénacting them and fails to put through a scientific and permanent law which shall satisfactorily immigration question for all time, the time may come when the people of America will forget the rottenness of the prewar immigration, and some legislation may slip over that will once more open America’s sea gates to the old sort of immigrant inundation. Admission by Selection One of the quaint features of the Three Per Cent Law is its provision that an alien who has resided for a year in Canada or two years in Mexico can enter the United States without further formality as far as the immigration law is concerned Uniess this commodious loophole is re moved from the law, America, at the end of another year, might as well have no law at all. Already many Canadian border towns have had their populations swelled |} by many immigrants from Northeastern Europe who are waiting to join their rela- tives in America. Already they are being bootlegged across the border by the skilled bootleggers of the Great Lakes region. Emigrants are embarking at Danzig and other northern European ports, and say- ing frankly that their tickets take them to Canada but that their destination is the United States. There is only one way in which the im- migration problem can be properly han- dled, and thi it is by providing that all immigration to the United States shall be immigration that is needed by the United States for definite purposes. Of all the nations in the world which have first-hand knowledge of large emigrant or immigrant movements, the United States is the one nation which has not regulated this move- ment of people to her own needs. Italy’s emigration laws are carefully framed to suit her own needs. Hungary's emigration system was planned to build up the port of Fiume, bring wealth back to Hungary and keep Hungarians in America from being naturalized. Bulgaria, on the other hand, wishing to keep her citizens at home, forbade steamship agents in the country. Rumania puts a secret mark on the passports of certain types of emigrants which prevents them, once they have left Rumania, from getting back into the coun- try again. Poland red ilitates the emigra- tion of certain sorts of people, and hinders the emigration of other sorts. All foreign countries develop laws which accrue to their own benefit and meet the peculiar needs of the different countries. For the United States to delay doing so is suicidal. Mr. W. W. Husband, the present Com- missioner General of Immigration, has probably as wide a knowledge of immigra- tion conditions in the United States as any student of the subject. He was clerk of the THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Senate Committee on Immigration from 1903 to 1907, executive secretary of the Roosevelt Immigration Commission from 1907 to 1911, and has made a careful and first-hand investigation of emigration and its causes in Russia, the Balkan States and Eastern Europe. In testifying before the Senate Committee on Immigration early in 1921, Mr. Husband stated: “Undoubtedly we shall need immigrants in the future just as we have in the past, and it is entirely possible that we shall at some time need them in greater numbers than ever; but in view of past experiences and of present conditions it seems almost imperative that some means shall be found to adjust future immigration to the needs of the United States. What the present needs of the country are with respect to immigration is difficult to say. But it wili probably be agreed that such knowledge is essential to an intelligent solution of the present problem.” Immigration laws admitting immigrants on a percentage basis or immigration laws which supposedly admit only blood rela- tives of Americans and near-Americans offer not one avenue whereby immigration can be adjusted to the needs of the United States. Such laws still admit the exact type of people which America neither needs nor wants. In no way can the Three Per Cent Law be regarded as even approaching an in- telligent solution of the problem, except as its rapid enactment shows the volume of the ear-splitting demand from the people of the nation late in 1920 and early in 1921 that some sort of intelligent legislation be enacted to relieve this country of its floods of undesirable and unassimilable aliens. It will be a very easy matter for the Congress of the United States to pass a law which will provide for these things and for the many apparently baffling problems that go along with them as soon as the Congress wakes up to the fact that the matter of im- migration must be handled from the begin- ning as a big-business proposition. Con- gress has been toying with immigration rem- edies that have the same impressive and permanent effect on immigration that a tissue-paper dam would have on Niagara Falls. No single bureau official will be competent to run the immigration ma- chine that must be built up if immigration is to be properly regulated and super- vised; and no single department of the Government should have control over it. It must be removed from the sphere of politics and from a position where pressure can be brought to bear by government offi- cials to overturn the decisions resulting from the law. A Federal Commission Needed Just at present the Department of State, through its consuls, supervises our immi- gration machinery in Europe, while the Department of Labor, through the Bureau of Immigration, supervises all immigration matters in America. Neither department, in the opinion of the best-informed immi- gration authorities, should exercise any sort of control over the immigration question. The Department of State should be relieved of immigration matters because they clut- ter up American consulates with great masses of work which prevent American business interests from getting the proper attention; and because, by irritating the officials of foreign countries, they hamper American consular officers in gathering the information which is their chief reason for being. The Department of Labor should be relieved of immigration matters because it has an insufficient amount of knowledge to deal properly with them. The leading immigration experts declare that there is only one way in which immi- gration can be safely and _ scientifically handled, and that is by means of a small Federal immigration commission composed of men whose training and achievements mark them as being competent to act as members of such an important body. The workings of such a commission would be as follows: The law creating the commission would also define the total number of immigrants who would be allowed to enter the United States in any one year. Knowing that, the commission would undertake to find out where agri- cultural or manual or skilled labor was needed in the United States. If no laborers were needed anywhere there would be no immigration of laborers. But if a certain number of laborers were needed to dig a ship canal or to construct a railroad or to January 28,1922 make pottery the commission would first assure itself that the need was genuine, then decide how many laborers should be allotted to the section of the country that was calling for them, then decide on the type of immigrants that could best do the work for which they were needed, and finally instruct the consulates in Europe of the number and type of laborers required. It would use American laborers if it could get them; but if it couldn’t get. them it would take the best and the most fit that Europe had to offer. When it had got them it would deliver them to the sections of the country where they were needed, oo of to the congested slums of our cities. Sucha program eliminates the paras site from our immigration. Much of our immigra- tion at present consists of middlemen who will either fatten on the community or starve on it, but who will do nothing what- ever to add to it. Under this program all persons selected as emigrants would have to prove that they had done the sort of work for which they were needed in America, and that they were willing to go on doing it in some definite part of America. Under this pro- gram the paupers and the defeated would vanish from our immigration; and it would make an end to the rushing to the big cities on the part of the majority of immi- grants, and to the congestion and the s!ums which result. When the immigration machinery threat- ened to lie idle because of lack of demand for laborers or because of depression, it could be kept in motion by accepting as immigrants the peasant farmers of Europe who would signify their willingness to occupy and cultivate the land. As long as this country is going to allow an immigra- tion of a third of a million people a year, it might as well have people that it needs in- stead of people that it doesn’t need, doesn’t want and doesn’t know what to do with. Opponents of the Commission Plan That, very briefly, is the basis on which a Federal immigration commission would work. Unfortunately, a number of dis- tinguished congressmen display a marked lack of enthusiasm when the subject of such a commission is broached. I have heard it claimed by a prominent member of the House Immigration Committee that “‘some of these commission theories are very pretty as theories; but they aren’t practical. Besides, they are too expen- sive.” By this he may have meant that the average politician who had rendered his party some small service and had been rewarded with a $15,000 job would be in- capable of doing any constructive immi- gration work if he were a member of an immigration commission. If th mg is what the committee member meant he was cor- rect. Immigration is a big-business propo- sition, , it ean be handled -_ by big men. The brain th at fed Europe, the brain that built = one of the big rok compa- nies, the brain that made a success of any big business—any of these would make a Federal immigration commission and a selected immigration scheme look as simple and as practical as a sectional bookcase. It is more likely, however, that the com- mittee member meant that the ve ry men- tion of more power being . aken away from Congress and put in the hands of a com- mission was repugnant . him. is very jealous of its prerogé atives and priv- ileges, and never does it relinquish one of them without protesting as bitterly as a Russian dancer would protest at parting with a leg. Whenever a big commission is formed to deal with some important detail of the Government it always robs Congress of a little power. As for the matter of ex- pense, the money that it would cost to build a submarine would, if applied to an immigration commission, result in an im- migration machine that would make our immigr: ition problem about as diffic ult to answer as that baffling problem, ‘“ How much is two and two? The fact that a member of the House Immigration Committee declares that a Federal immigration commission to select only the immigration that America needs is an impractical scheme does not by any means make it impractical. It is the one simple and practical manner of accom- plishing what the present Commissioner General of Immigration referred to as an imperative need of the country before the Senate Committee on Immigration —the necessity of adjusting future immigration to the needs of the United States Con yress Se # ' 4)

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 55 ? ‘ y ' Tae PED Senses te Why King George D 't Lik - * + to ive at inmadsot astle we NEWSPAPER item says King in 1589. For more than three centu Pons of pure metalli id are George doesn’t like to live at the rains that beat upon this ancient led, every day, to produce the wh Wind or Castle. He pre fer Buck roval re idence have been carri 1 off which wives tO paint it protect } ingham Palace, because the plumbing by these lead pipx ind they are sti powel Save the Surfa and You Is more up to date. intact. Say \ ‘ i vu which l ichin b] . , , ‘ _ h \ } paint-pro Modern plumbing is quite different OO a a ao oe » , , | from the plumbing of Queen Elizabeth’s oe or A ~ ornamental lead work on historic Eng nite : ss aaah : time, but in one respect the plumber of 14 os ee pon iN . lish buildings, dating back three and today follows the custom of three hundred ; ;' : \] F : four centuries, becau ti work 1 > ' ! years ago. In all cases where permanence ' ' vh ‘ ’ ] ’ ’ 1 0 | tutiful n de yn al Worl in ny . } y and reali economy at desired, he still nut whit , +} ¢ ' d pu Wi 1 | | : uses lead for piq Today, you will fin ! rA with | Pa Y Water will run through lead pipes for finest country homes equipped with gut manutacturet white-lead a \ iL without causing decay or deteri ters, pipe heads, leader pipes, pings, pt pa . Poth pa h , ration. Drainage methods improve, and and flashings of Hoyt Hardlead, which ike, and f | r tl pal i fixtures become more convenient and more enduring than any ther meta } I I 1d beautiful; but underneath, where that can be employed. It would be u tilit a6 . sure ] ] me 1] ] ypenct | , . ] = utility 1s required, jead pipe 1s still on less ex] \ | a “ . l Nat | id ( mal white used because men have never found owners thought mor tern f ultimat F ny rust resisting metal the equal of outlay tha of nr } - ] th a Civilized man has found hund: 2 other uses tor lead ul products, Dutch Boy White-Lead lead is also the best material for a oe eee cn i al ‘ and of them all th a the rain water drainage system of the oa a ' | \ off 1) \ house, Phe picture on ath on i ee paint ' t four “Wonder B a pipe-head on one of the outer walls vhich of Windsor Castle. It was_ installed, Pons of paint are used, every day, t rundred Wil which along with gutters, leaders, and spouts, adorn and preserve th irfaces of | ; é Gave WF " » Fores . Some Products Made by National Lead ¢ mpany ‘ *% Dutch Boy White-Lead Battery Litharge Dutch Boy Red-Lead Battery Red-Lead " Dutch Boy Linseed Oil Pressure Die Casting - ‘ { NAT IONAL LEA D COMPANY Dutch Boy Flatting Oil Cinch Expansion Bolt r ed ; ; , Dutch Boy Babbitt Metals Ulco Lead Wool New 1ork Boston Cincinnati San Francisco : . , . Dutch Boy Solders Sheet Lead ' Cleveland Buffalo Chicago St. Louis a. 4 Hoyt Hardlead products for Buildings tf JOHN T. LEWIS & BROS. CO., Philadelphia NATIONAL LEAD & OIL CO., Pittsburgh { tA

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56 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST January 28,1922

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Page 59

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST THE WINTER BELL Continued from Page 5 the crust. A pause followed, a moment of stillness; and then a voice hailed Corpora- tion House: ““Hey! Who's in?” All four men went to the door without haste. The keen blue sky, the afternoon sun- light on the snow, made them blink I'ke drowsy animals coming out of a cavern. Below them, close at hand, two ragged lines of bush tops marked where the road curved between flow: age and cat-tail mrrsh; ind here a steaming bay horse, his winter pe frosted white down his neck, along his collar and round the root of his tail, stood harnessed to a sled. A pair of strangers, bulky in fur coats, one of black bear and one of brown-dyed sheepskin, clung each to a stake and peered upward. What little of their faces could be seen glowed fiery Between them on the sled lay something flat under a blanket The driver, in the bearskin, wrap ed his reins round a sled stake and beckoned. “We got a dead man here.’”’” He spoke not without gusto. ‘“‘Found him on the lake this mornin’. Come see if it’s anybody ye know.” The Redmans, father and son, obeyed. Tr ipper Kin geome, as he began to follow, Salem a brief stare, enasteal le in lazy pale orbs for its hardness. ““T don’t want to look on him again,” aid Salem, and remained leaning in the doorway. He saw the driver stoop unwieldily to roll back the horse blanket, while his friends gathered in line, forming with the trangers a wall of ba ks that hid the sled He heard the driver’s tone of relish and importance: “We been up there gittin’ out knees for the Grecian Bend. . . . Yeah. You ow her; three-master, is to be, on Hone Cocksall’s ways. . . . Yeah. Comin’ out this forenoon we run acrost this poor feller.” The exhibitor lowered his voice. It rumbled on: “Hit him "bove the right ear with the blunt of aax. . . . WhatI ay. . . Yeah. There’s the ax. Found her un der the snow alongside him. — What was left o’ snowshoe trac ks, them bobtail kind, plain enough in the crust f’m where he laid to a camp ashore. Who lived there?” Salem heard no answer; but he saw Kingcome’s great bulk move. Quietly, as if having seen enough, Trap- per drew back and turned, sauntering up to the house. He passer i tin without a look, but whis- ~ ed fiercely from the corner of his mouth, Come her e Sa ile! c ome > here!’ , No sooner had the young man joined him than with the same ferocity, quick and silent as a pouncing cat, he closed the door, gripped Salem’s arm and swung him across the room to the bunk below the gable window. His free hand was holding out a little heap of silver coins and dirty green paper. “You take this. All I got on me.” His broad, freckled face burned with excite- ment. ‘‘Out that winde r, and make tracks icrost the border! Quick! The man’s a depatty shariff down to Middle L andin’. I know him. He’s got your ax Y ou’re the only one round here wears that pattrun o’ snowshoe. Come, shin out!” Salem did nothing but look bewilder- ment. He had never seen Trapper like this, transformed, except in time of danger to somebody else, It was the trait by which the lounger ind gossip had first won him. “No.” He pushed Kingcome’s hand away. ‘Take it. Pay me back when ye git somewheres safe.” Not Trapper’s words but his eyes began to have meaning. “What?” cried S: ale *m in horror. ‘“‘Do you think I done it?’ The other let go his arm, tried to stifle his mouth, “Never mind what I think! You git Clear out or they’ll hang ye, boy.’ Footsteps and voices were coming up the bank. **T never touched him,”’ said Salem. His brown eyes rebuked this friend. “‘Told ye » once a’ready.”’ A deliberate, padded knocking sounded throughout the room; somebody at the threshold kicked snow from his moccasins. [he door began to open. ” “Oh, why didn’ ye?”’ Trapper groaned, and sat down on the bunk like one ex ted. ‘“‘Never knowed such a young fool!” mr OC day in the following spring Salem id reason to think his friend Trapper Kingcome right. It was a ve ry fine da With eyes closed or eyesight lost a mar W vuld have known how fine and of wha season; for besides an unmistakable new mildness in the air, that smell of drying | mud which is more delicate than perfum« told how earth lay warming, released fron winter, uncovered to the sun. Whilffs came now and then from a distant bonfire, aro matic smoke of burning evergreens; the 4 having drifted by, there settled a warm ©) drowsiness through which pine lumber dif fused its clean, hearty scent; and in fits of energy, broken by silence and rest horsewhip beat on a car ll broad smacks that echoed Salem had not gone blir of spring ran in his ve ind restless, a current gr del irged wit winter vitality which | prompted him to be doing yet checked him py feit He knew the season fo pring, acknow edged the glory of the day He sat on bench in the town jail of Crossport The walls that imprisoned him had once : been whitewashed, but now were a craz Ohi! the Circus-Day Parade! patchwork of bare lath, of old lime How the bugles played and played! scratched with obscene words and picture ; - and of great brown spider-legged stair And how the glossy horses left by tobacco juice. One barred wind lossed thei flossy nianes without - ee 3 t i La t “ie and neiolhed n {1} oO uniigt to reveal the = broken ster, from which hung. littl As the rattle and the rhyme pinche reddish cow’s hair, and darker of the tenor-drummers ltime knob here some bygone captive, fi ( pag vege we team ble tenidh ig mary 7 Filled all the hungry hearts of was a doleful room. It wa perhaps the us with melody sublime! worst place on earth, for a woodsman who James Whitcomb Riley had always gone free, to sit in and be re minded of the spring “Don’t you go nigh it no more.” One self spoke to the other self; d wear their endless wrangle night an nd day Sal ! crouched, elbows on knees, to glare dowr ward “You keep away from that winder,” He knew little about towns or diffe ence of neighborhood, nothing about what in every he called lockup houses. This tumbledow: comme! =STORYe GLARK sons, and soon to be pulled down, he PLAYER, PIANO thought was devised, maintained throughout ages for a peculiar torment and disgrace Outside his w ] scum of the river, wharf-rat men and rN nd it comes forth so easily that the rance, to Salem, fn fellow > his equal little lols "Te) 1/1 SOOT! lear W {Oo play judgment. | to their hearts’ content mankind gathered against him terribly in | He glared down between his feet, seeing a black depth and hating this mankind What had happened before, and what he sat dreading most, now happened again The dim light above him fluttered. He looke d up quickly and watched, as before ‘Melody Sublime aa heres he one thing youll notice immediately about the Story & Clark Player Piano~ va if pumps with perfect ease and _ plays nid divide like sess, thevoiweor, With beautiful expression ~ a cembination | \rtist ies of shadow on the ceiling } omeone with a happy vught Lae cee the sand tee usnt— “Hey! | which at once appeals alike to Ct anwiee —| one to peguenter ‘Right over here.” He knew what sound would come next It came, a scrambling and kicking of boot on clapboards, For the twentieth time that day the window grew dark, and Salen hardened himself to meet the stare of ar other enemy. Hands gripped the bars; a head, black against the patch of glowir y, hung motionless for what seemed this combination js muade possible by the Storye Clark Imperial Player Action-of which thet ‘Automatic Tracking and Transposing Device is a part Designed by Story & Clark Built with greatest care in their own factories long time, for what was in fact so long that Obtainable exclusively in Story & Clark the blackness took on feature a hea thick 1 tall the f ; instruments nose, thick lips, and all e foolish cour tenance of a young green-eyed lout, grit ti) rite for booklet descr ibing the designs and ning with broad teet} } " - . “Hallo!” This thing, like the other for the name of nearest dealer gave a chuckle made somewhat breathi by the effort of holding on ‘Hey, how your neck? It'll know fore long how n hund’ed ye weigh behind, a-settin’ on a The mocker dropped from sight, and left the window clear. Some kind of playful combat follows ! utside, with bumps and whiskings and \ “4 ) ‘ - 4 ¥ ’ aon ta |The Story ¢ Clark Piano C ompany “T’'ll hold ye up jest like a baby.” “Q-o-oh, quit that!” (Continued on Page 59 ‘Instruments of finest quality since 1857 Priced within reach of every home Chicago Factories Grand Haven Michigan

Page 60

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST January 28,1922 “Mercy, Jack, don't go so fast on this wet asphalt!” “Don't be alarmed, dear; these Kelly-Springfield Kant-Slip Cords don't skid.” HE factor of safety in the Kant-Slip Cord can scarcely be overstated, and unlike most tires that really won’t skid, Kellys will deliver long mileage, too. Here is a rare combination of Safety and Service at the same price you will have to pay for other tires that have always sold for less than Kellys.

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(Continued from Page 57) “Sure. I'll histe ye. Hain’t it a good pow’ful hand? Set yer pretty little instep right int’ the palm of it. Come on, don’t be scairt o’ me.” “Oh, git out, ye great big tomfool! Someb’dy’ll see us.”’ Again the window became darkened. A young woman was looking in had bright eyes, a hard unvirtuous face and a silly, gurgling laugh like a lie in her throat. While she gazed as into the den of a wild beast, pretending fear, her nothing and cared less, turned to cast their distrac ted light out- ward and down, in leers of false merriment, sham affectior “Oh,” she cried pertly, “ain't he } ruble?”’ The word expressed what Salem was thinking of her “You quit that! Le’ go! Behave I sock you one!” Her flushed face was gone, the room brighter for its absence ‘Looks ’s if he’d like to murder us too said her voice “Set-fire 'f he don’t!’ ‘Haw, haw!” The pair moved away, dallying. Salem heard their empty

beheld

for they soon * the other agreed watched their shadows wheel across the plaster overhead to sink among corner cobwebs, and when alone once more fell back into his brooding rage. The last few days had taught him what mankind was like; yes, arid*‘woman- kind. They came to look at him for sport He sat here with his griefs, ‘like a passel o’ baboons in a cage,’ he told himsel while other baboons came and grinned at him all day. This latest couple had seemed the worst; he could bear no more of them. And now as time went slowly by the silence failed to bring comfort, because at any moment they might break it again His mind was all one raw place that winced in expectation. Or if he made a struggle to forget, then began once more that wrangling of one self with the other Salem had never known before that there were two of him. Misfortune, like a wedge in a block, had split the man’s fiber, which, eing hard and clean, therefore parted groaning. He tried to rejoin the divided halves; but when by pure wil ind held himself together it was only to nk: and thought which did not bear on action, which led toward nothing simple and direct to be done at once, chafed against every torn habit of his life with ntolerable pain ‘Nothin’ don’t seem to fit no more,” id Salem The light on the ceiling faded in time, en took a new direction and brightened He knew these changes. Early afternoon had dragged past, late afternoon slowlh swung toward evening. jokes,

| he succee ~<ded

He was be ‘gi ning to hope there would be no more visitors that day ‘Ev’body in town must ’a’ seen me hy now But the raw p More quietly than was usual, w ing of clapboards or preparatory joking someone else had come. Two big freckled fists laid hold of the bars, and like a freckled moon with rays of pale red hair a face heaved up its chin over the sill ‘Listen here, boy.”” It was the faithless friend, Trapper Kingcome. “They tolt me you wouldn’ hear o’ no lawyer,” he whispered ‘That right, Sale? Got ye a lawyer yit?”’ Salem answered only with a long lool ‘You git ye one,” said Trapper, in wheedling tones. ‘*Don’t go playin’ the off ox like that. Nob’dy'll believe ye alon’, You git ye a good lawyer ‘fore to-morrer.”’ Salem sprang up, caught his bench by the end and swung it like a weapon. ‘You put!” he growled. He took only one step forward. There were bars between them. The stout Charley Kingeome was no coward, but something ieadly in the fire of Salem’s « op from the window as for dear life em turned, replaced the bench and sat jown without another word for a while he heard Trapper’s voice bevond the — He took no heed of what the man might be saying. What had been said was enough, and remained there like a pers istent echo in the darknes “Nob’ dy’ ll believe ye _ It was enough. All men were liars Silence followed; probably a long silence for his wrists—and they were not those of a weakling—began to ache like the head which they lace had still to be prodde d. ithout kick es made him

upported A horsefly, the THE SATURDAY earliest of the year, buzzed round the room, tapped the wall with light rasping touches, and made its aimlessness a part of the world’s vacancy. ‘Toward sunset it, too, fell « quiet, Afterward, from outside, there suddenly rose a brief grating and thumping, as o some hollow object that was dragged along the ground. ‘Hallo!’”” Someone hailed from above the window, ‘* What ye doin "down there we It was the draw] of old Denny, who kept this lockup house and dwelt overhead ailer, poundmaster, and mild bugbear of truants from school, he was known to look on his duties with a blear-eyed philosoph ical neglect, through haze from _a_ black Woodstock pipe. Salem could hear the rattletrap balcony creak under his delib- erate, stoc king-footed tread. ‘Wh at ye doin’ with that box bigger’n

" : rom below, after a pause, came ; wer. “‘I oniy wanted to see Mr. Dela ?

force,"’ said a young and rather timid voice “Well, you better hyper hom’,”’ replied the old smoker aloft. A loud sucking noise rupted his counsel, and a burnt match dropped aslant past the window. “‘ Be’! many of ye, guess. He don’t want to Be’ n pestered plenty enough t’-day. You jest kite along and let him ay put.” lhe dialogue seemed to end. But inside his dirty room a thing was happening t he could not understand. All see no more.

Salem that day long he had suffered because this care- less jailer —_— not drive his tormentors away. He had renounced the world with every pe rson in it, but now he found him-

self unde r the abhorred window, straining upw: ar rd a calling out. ‘Let her come!” he cried. ‘“‘ You never stopped the others, Denny. Let her come! Treat me fair. She’s the first one that n't called me i He choked and stood breathing hard, hi aised, his fists trembling against the

arms I daylight. Presently the old man grumbled o7 ead and stumped away.

ating hollow light and small as a child, mounted it; pale brown fingers rested on the sill, and then a head yunger than his own looked down at him calmly This late comer was a girl The evening poured across the front of the jail glowed on her right cheek and darkened the left with shadow. Tucked between her lips for convenience in hauling or climbing, in the box drew near. on pebbles. A child, or someone

and forgotten, a dandelion shone like a disk i ear flame Her eves, d blue, re garded him steadily, but with an inward parkle, a widening thrill of -enforced “G od evening, Mr. Delaforce,”’ she said gravely. ‘‘How do you do alem could see her only from the throat

felt certain the child was very too old for her year Her face , pale under a first coat of tan-——had a i jook at variance with itself, bot} alert an Ps sad, the look of a youngster who has run wild. Or perhaps the wildness lay in her he r, bright on tne side toward the sun, bronze throughout the shadowy half,

mingled rt and all tangled. ‘You're the first one,’’ declared Salem, Mister anything.” dandelion, threw it rubbed its bitter ym her lip The action showed a thin little hand, rough with work. “Why am I?” she asked replied Salem, “call me nothin’ but murd’rer. Been hearin’ it ill day. ‘Le’s go see the murd’rer.’”’ The child seemed lost in meditation “Are you?” Salem drew back somewhat, to vive her a better light upon his worn, hairy facs ‘What do you think?” he inquired. While waiting he thought the child wa perhaps a crip} Her dark blue eves, ur and fine-curved lids, cor tuined that deep beauty of thoughtfulne She removed the away and, grimacing, mult fr ‘The rest of ’em,”

der their heavy granted often to the eyes of the deformed I'he looked through him lowly and he said Salem nodded at her quickly ‘No!”’ He repeated the word with ade light, as if it were a thing to be proud of “No, you bet you!” They remained studying each other for a while without speaking “Thank ye, little girl, for comin’ to see a fellaw You done me a heap oO good The sadness in her eyes had not altered EVENING POST “T don’t know much.” His visitor paused, evidently casting about in her mind. “I wish I did. But it does say, ‘Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.’” Salem shook his head. “You can’t tell me nothin’ rod,”” he answered gruffly. ‘“It’ cornered whalebon’ pickled in brine, and about the a three- laid on hit or miss hope you won't never come to feel it, young one,’ After she had gone he egretted the ht, in taiking oO speech; no use, he thoug But she had gone quickly i with a ““Good-by” and running on Salem hauled himself to the window me € ige of which he caught, past the

no more than half a glimpse of he

é é She ran fast a slight figure in black, taller than he had expected to lipped through the open door

across the way. He could see only ilf the house. It was a small, unpainted slat ternly buildir banked round the sil

not with fir branches but with a trough of hemlock slabs and shingle

door closed ‘Poor little critter!” thought Sale ‘Her fo’ks can’t be no good ] f it ] LOOKS Ol

all summer While he hung there he found t ni great surprise that a i him unaware. Something in his head, like a spring wound tight to the breaking point, had loosened and freed with a rus} The evening air tasted wonderfully sweet and fresh. Sunset flooded that dismal alley by the river, poured through and flowed over the ugliest things in splendor. On the shone like pile on pile of gold, straight-edged, clean as its own warm scent, and mirrored in the dark shore water that between wharves covered the mud flats with a still pool brown as tea. Out in mid stream lay the soft color of the sky fe let go and sank back into the dusk “Maybe I'll swamp a ro’d out thro this mess yit,’’ thought Salem. morrer’s goin’ to be bad. But don’t ye flinch no more.” He sat down and, thinking, felt sorry for wharves lumber

two mistakes He had driven Trapper away when Trapper 1 doubt meant kindly and he had forgotten just now ti ask the child her name iv H® DID, indeed, confront the next day without flinching. It was to be his ordeal in the court room. On Monday he had watched the jury being impaneled and sworn, and heard Judge Knowlton, a white-haired gentleman with quiet, leisurely manners, adjourn the court over Tuesday , Saying that} } 1e } ad to attend funeral, and instructing jury and wit o'clock ot second nesses to be present at ten Wednesday morn ing The hour appointed thus four the dock, composed, n¢ to believe that d Salem ir t hopeful, but willing truth might prevail. Orso he felt for a moment, until bad air, the buzz that followed his appearance and the host of watching eyes made his head swim The court room was dark and small. The oldest public room in town, it had been a church, built during the days when faith came first in ¢ learing ay illage out of the w roods, after ward outgrown and desecrated. Along the gray side walls high narrow windows rose ach to a point in a two-foot-deep rece Men and boys, their feet dangling above the crowd, stuffed these little al tightly so that no draft came in, tl the lower panes had been swung ope Under their dangling boots all space wa packed level with heads, close fitted Ke bla ind white eed na inf wer A thick, warm sme rose from old rubber matting in the aisle i tale inter ritant from old woodwort teeped toba ysn ‘ lr} might be the odor of the iw, Salem t! ight aguel for a i boy he e¢ had smelled it hanging about a lawye thee There ere t ! eye for ymif ae ed meet the but the vere " 0 xed i too hostile Ignoring them, therefore, Salem looked toward the judye who mpended alott waiting and rubbing his chin thoughtfully wit! lender linger He eemed a vet erable scholar at |} desk, bowed down with the weight of this awful moment A a matter of fact Judge Knowlton sat there tired, thinking of an old friend he had helped to bury yesterday The buzzing died away The roomful ettled into expectancy Hi glance roving (Continued on Page 62

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+ THE THERE’S COMFORT THE YEAR "ROUND IN A REX-EQUIPPED OPEN CAR ALIFORNIA TYPE Rex All Seasons Top on your open every day, the year ‘round. Of course, Rex All-Seasons Tops provide complete pro tection in winter, keeping out cold winds, sleet and snow. But these handsome tops are also designed for all-seasons eT VICE In summer, they afford efficient, regulated ventilation All or part of the panels can be removed, if desired, for pring and autumn driving. Storm curtains are carried in a concealed ¢ eiling poc ket There are wesse types of Rex All-Seasons Tops “Cali fornia” and “Sedan.” The f fort with the haiedeien appearance of California design. former combines all-season com It is covered with durable artificial leather in colors to harmonize with the car bodies upon which mst ill | may be Standard equipment includes an electric dome ght, Rex Sun-and-Rain Visor and many refinements. The “Sedan” Type is designed to transform touring cat or roadster into a closed model following closely the lines ind general appearance of sedan or coupé { \ ns Tof ive sp ially designed and built for open f wing make Buick, Cleveland, Dodge Brothers, Ha Hudsor } Nash, Paige, Reo and Seude Phey may be ordered through dealers who sell these cars Write today, giving the make and model of your open car. We will send samples of California Type covering material and illustrations showing how these tops will when installed on your cat ipp al REX MANUFACTURING COMPANY Connersville, Indiana ta s Canada? Ca age Factories, Ltd., Or SEDAN TYPE SATURDAY EVENING POST (Continued from Page 59) about the field of eyes again, Salem en- countered one pair that wished him no harm. Midway in the throng, wedged un- comfortably, a vast, round old man wearing a mop of red-golden hair and beard, both somewhat grizzled, regarded Salem with a benignant glare. He was eating what might have been an apple, but his big paw hid most of it. Salem had never seen the man before. He had a great chuckle nose, a wind-blown, weather- beaten air, and eyes pale and clear as a goat’s. Next moment he gave Salem a shock by winking at him. Through the crowded windows came, like elfin trumpets heralding the spring, a faint blast of cockcrow, repeated from barn- yard to barnyard round the outskirts of the town. Judge Knowlton folded his hands, looked up, and si uid as neue resuming a late con- versation: “In the case of The People against Delaforce, are you ready to pro- ceed, gentlemen?” Immediately a tall man in black serge rose from a table helow the judge, tossed a lock of dark hair back from his forehead and replied, ‘“‘Ready for The People, Your Honor.” Salem viewed this champion closely after he sat down. He looked earnest and | somber; hungry hollows lurked underneath his cheek bones and jaw, and his Adam’s apple showed like the breast bone of plucked fowl. “Observe,” said the judge, ‘“‘that the defendant has formally stated that he does not desire counsel. Are you ready to pro- ceed?” Salem, who felt lonely and detached, found with alarm that everyone was wait- ing for him to answer the question. He cleared his throat. It was dry as touch- wood. “Ready or not,” he replied, “I told ye, sir, I didn’t want no lawyers mullin’ round.” “Very well, gentlemen, Knowlton, “proceed.” The effort of speaking for the first time in his life before a crowd left Salem bewil- dered. He saw the tall man in black rise ” said Judge | again, and heard him begin with sonorous | stantial evidence. deliberation: “Your Honor and gentlemen of the jury 4 What immediately followed was lost on Salem, who remained hot and cold by turns, dizzy with the labor of his few des- perate words. In time, however, he grew conscious that the many-eyed monster was watching and listening elsewhere. Thought and sight returned to him. Opposite, not far away, sat two ranks of men whose faces differed from the others, being set, stiff- ened, like masks of unnatural wisdom or good behavior. He suddenly knew them for the jury. On Monday he had watched them gather one by one, and answer some question about prejudice, murder, circum- The tall man was ad- dressing them, though peering over their heads, as if his words to be collected were midges in the air, and his eyesight doubtful: i that on the tenth day of Feb’uary the dead body of Asa Beard was found on the ice on Jacob-Staff Lake; that the body bore the mark of a heavy blow, dealt with some blunt inst’ment, above the right ear, crushing the skull; that near by was found an ax belonging to the defendant; and that the tracks of snowshoes in the crust leading from the spot where Asa Beard’s body laid were followed to a camp which was the defendant's domicile. We will also call before you, gentlemen, witnesses to prove that Asa Beard and the defendant quar- reled, some time previous to the crime, and come to blows, over a dog belonging to the defendant; that the defendant openly threatened to kill Asa Beard on condition of a certain event happening, namely, if any harm came to his dog; and that this condition was fulfilled just previous to the murder. These are the bare facts. They are the facts which we sh’ll prove.” Uttering his last word with force, the tall man turned aside, held up one finger and | beckoned. His movement made Salem | aware of another group in the crowd. This | behind a railing, well polished by hand. was no mob, after all, but an ordered thing put in motion against him. Four men, their faces brick-red among the haze of paler town complexions, waited in a row. Salem at first thought them blushing with embarrassment; then he recognized them old outdoor acquaintances, disguised in their Sunday clothes. One of them an- swered the tall man’s finger and stepped up January 28,1922 ‘*____ and nothing but the truth,” con- cluded somebody, ‘“‘so help you God?” Yes, it was all ordered. It grew solemn. This room hadn’t quit being a church. “What is your name?” “Helon Fox.” “What is your occupation?” “‘Lumberman.’ This man’s face, before, had looked out from a dyed sheepskin collar, over a sled stake, among snow-covered alders at Cor- poration House. ““Where were you on the morning of the tenth day of Feb’uary last?” “*Crossin’ Jake-Staff Lake, sir.”’ “‘Were you alone?” “No, sir.”” The red-faced man gave a gulp, seized the railing, and pondered. “No, sir; { wa’n’t alon’. No.” ‘Who was with you?” “Depatty Shariff Crosby was with me. And a bay hoss and sled belongin’ to Bales McCatherine.” The dark champion of the people brought forth his next question very slowly: ‘Did you discover anything laying on the ice on that date?” ‘*We did, sir,”’ replied the witness. “*“What was it?”’ Mr. Helon Fox, lumberman, had no doubt what it was; with the aid of ques tioning he described it fully. ‘Did you find anything else?” “Yes, sir. In clearin’ away to chop him out we found a ax ‘longside of him under the snow.” The district attorney bent toward the table and handed over a light, single-bitted ax. “Ts this it?” Te, ar.” ‘How do you know it is?” Mr. Fox became wary, turned the ax over in his hands more than once, then be- came cheerful again “*Because the’s his nishuals branded on the helve.” “You mean thi at those are the de- fendant’s initials?’ “Yes, they be. He lent her to me one time. S.D. Them is his proper nishuals that I seen afore. S. for Sale and D. for Delaforce.”’ There followed more questions and answers, but the drift of them Salem dis- regarded, for as he heard Fox tell of bear- paw snowshoe prints, and of Sagamore’s grave under the firs, room and talkers and listeners faded away. He sat in a dream, downcast, homesick, his mind far from all this evil, sadly roaming the woods. Once he looked up, recalled by the sound of his own name, “Mr. Delaforce,”’ the judge was asking, “‘do you wish to cross-examine the wit ness?”’ “What's that mean, sir?” replied Salen He spoke without fear, being so remote His heart was not there. ‘Have you any questions to ask him? “*No, thank ye.” Homesickness wrapped him round as if to hide him from view. Another of the sunburnt four mounted the stand: Crosby, the deputy sheriff, who had worn a black bearskin coat that winter afternoon. The talk went on, the same vain repetition “Was Asa Beard dead when you found him?” “‘He certain’y was,’’ declared Crosby “‘A corp some hours, and froze hard too I’ve seen good many.” The next of the four, Pum’s father, old Redman, of Wing Dam, gave trouble by his vagueness. But he told a fair story; how on “‘ Lambkill Hake last October, No- vember mebbe, Sale there did 7 with Asy Beard, no mistake . Yes, sir; that’s a fact too, Sale did ondeniabl ly, right out, promise Asy Beard to kill wd some day, nex’ time he ever attackted the dog.” When the fourth and last witness ap- peared, Salem felt a change like some breath of air. Pum Redman came lounging into confinement and took his oath like a shy, fierce young animal, half gawky, half grace- ful, that had wound from among trees into a circus tent, smelled things it hated and would quickly wind out again. The ligt it of his eyes drifted round to seek or give offense. Now Pum was a gentle soul; and Salem, knowing him, knew that here stood a hot, angry friend in the hour of need. ““What is your name?” “Y’ought,”’ said Pum, “ pooty well by now.” “What is your name?” (Continued on Page 65) to remember me

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 2 Here are a few of many products on which engi- neers are now using arc welding successfully: Automobiles Automobile part ixle bodice frames, n tarters, wheels, tani Barrel Every Engineer Must Reckon With Arc Welding k i l It matters not what the engineer may have on his drawing board—if it mea i putting together pieces of iron or steel, he must reckon with arc welding ' Is it an automobile ?—Then here is a better axle housing for | | welding together two pieces of pressed steel. it a steel tank?—Then he ca \\ money W hee Wheel B ( discard the cumbersome rivet and expensive calking, for electric welding make smooth, tight tank job at far less than it woul l ) r rive ing. Or p rhaps it} steel window sash ?— Again electric are welding h: ved } iperior results ar its lower costs. And so this page might be fill arc welding ts in everyday practical To ignore electric arc welding steel product is to invite competition lower price. This has happened not stubbornly insisted that the “old way The only possible way to know wh: to try it. Lincoln Welding Engineer written report on their findings and guarantec welding can be used at all. A Book for Engineers—7 photographs and complete any firm upon written request. Sample Weld sent on request “scecy The Lincoln Electric Company “"""" Cin innat General Offices and Factory, Cleveland, O. Chicago Columbu The Lincoln Electric Co. of Canada, Ltd., Toronto-Montreal

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64 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST January 28,1922 There can be only one reason for the increasing number of women who are buying Mirro Aluminum kitchen utensils. These women must know that Mirro Aluminum possesses advantages which other aluminum ware does not have. True, we have tried to make Mirro the most durable, most convenient and beautiful kitchen ware on the market. How well we have succeeded, we prefer to have Mirro users tell you—tthere are several million of them. The Mirro Aluminum Colonial Tea Kettle, pictured above, will serve you long and faithfully. Like all Mirro Why Women Buy M irro utensils, it is made from pure aluminum, rolled again and again, in Mirro mills, to give the hard, dense, lasting qualities which make Mirro ware give a life- time of service. Every woman can afford Mirro. Although the quality brand of aluminum ware, it is priced moder- ately. And its years of service add to its economy. Back of every Mirro utensil is the guarantee of the world’s foremost maker of aluminum ware, with a successful experience of nearly thirty years. You may buy Mirro at leading stores everywhere. Send for the miniature Mirro catalog. ALUMINUM co HOUSE REE PING @ Sure grip, ebonized, detachable handle in sures easy handling and pouring (2) Projection on rear handle ear prevents lid from falling when kettle is tilted ervects @ Handk ears welded on; slotted to permit handle being shifted to any position © Rivetl ss, no-burn, ebonized knob 6) Easy-filling, easy-pouring spout Makers of Everything {luminum A (8) Famous Mirro finish © Beautiful Colonial design. Also made in plain round style. @ Mirro trade-mark on every piece. guarantee of excellence throughout @ Spout welded on—no loosening—no dirt ee Unusually wide base means quick heatirg catching joint and fuel saving a bs . NPT Aluminum Goods Manufacturing Company wRRO! General Offices: Manitowoc, Wis., U.S. A. Your ALU MINU Reflects Good Housekeeping —

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Continued from Page 62 “You go to grass!” Hearing this defiance, Judge Knowlton sat up. “Young man,” he said not unkindly, “I call your attention to the fact that if you don’t answer these questions you render yourself liable to punishment. You are called on to testify, and must testify, and if you don’t the court will order you sent to jail for contempt until youdo. By refusing to answer now you do no good to yourself or anyone else, but only hinder the course of justice.” Pum’s face turned surly toward his examiner. “What is your name?” “Pomeroy Redman.” in a rage. “Were you present at’Lambkill Heath last October or November, when two men had a fight there?”’ “Yes, Iwas. I was on Lambkill Hake.” “What took place there at that time?” Pum was holding an inward fight of his own against passion. “We all know what you're after!”’ he cried. “Yes, I seen Sale Delaforce lick Asy Beard good and clean and plenty. He knocked him ten foot through cramb’ry bog with one poke. And tolt him if he ever did that to his dog again he’d kill him. W’ich he deserved, the big ov’grown pismire—if he is dead!” There came a pause after this outburst The man in black serge waited calmly, then took from his pocket a black leathern-strap with a brass buckle and half a dozen brass bosses “Did you ever see this article before?” he said, “Yes,”’ growled Pum, “I hev.” “Where did you last see it?” “They took it out of Sale’s pocket when they ’rested him.” ‘ “Did you ever see it before that‘ “Yes, I did.” “When, and where?” “Lots o’ times. Round the dog’s neck. Where s’pose?” “On the neck of the defendant's dog?” “Round it, yes.” The district attorney laid Sagamore’s collar on the table beside the ax. He did so with a quiet air of content. But meanwhile, behind him signs of dis- turbance had risen. Looking where others looked, Salem saw a large round back roll ing away through the press, heaving people to one side and the other, moving in half circles like an upended barrel. It was the tight-clothed back and mop head of the old man who had winked at him, and who was now evidently shoving his way out- doors in disgust ‘‘Pumps have sucked,” proclaimed his resounding voice. “Jury? A bo’tlo’d of dodunks and chowderheads! Wouldn't know a man if they saw him born. Look at ‘em. They'll find guilty.” Judge Knowlton spoke from his bench: ““Mister Bailiff, go get that man and bring him back here.” Many persons in the room guessed what was passing through the judge’s mind. He knew this offender. Everyone knew and liked old ¢ ‘aptain Constantine, a ric h eccen- tric who, retired from the sea into a fortune, thought little of shore ways and would utter his mind aloud anywhere, contra- dicting even his favorite parson in church. Yesterday Knowlton had borne the head of a coffin with him, had seen tears in the captain’s eyes; but now it was the judge, not the friend, that spoke to a culprit at the rail, whose arm was held by the sheriff: “The court judges you guilty of con- tempt, and fines you two hundred fifty dollars, and orders that you pay the fine forthwith or remain in the custody of the sheriff till the fine is paid.” Captain Constantine chose quickly. He gave the sheriff a brown derby hat to hold, as if hanging it on a convenient peg. With one of his circular, muscle-bound move ments, plunging hand and wrist down inside his tight coat, he struggled a while, then hauled out a long fat leathern pocketbook, dark and shiny as a saddle. A bright brown, tarred spun yarn lashed this wallet securely together. Like magic the captain untied some private complication of knots, withdrew a strap from several keepers, flapped the cover open, wet his thumb, and peeled off one after another of fresh green bank notes, which he carefully shoved end- long upon the desk. “Well worth it,” he declared “IT warn you,” said the judge, “to be careful.”’ He ground it out THE SATURDAY The old irrepressible, tying his wallet and ramming it home again, looked quite un abashed and happy. “Sir, for your court,’ he boomed, “I have nothin’ but the greatest respect More than ever. And for good discipline gen’ally. I make my apologies to all con sarned.” He was allowed to depart, and did so, again swaying through the crowd like a barrel on its chime. Salem watched him go with a queer regret, as if this stranger were carrying away the last of any good, anything to be hoped or remembered “That is the case for The People, Your Honor - Salem turned to find the judge looking at him, and saying as before, ‘Do you wish to ask the witness any questions?” He had forgotten Pum, who stood chafing behind the brown rail. “No, thank ye.” With that lanky wildcat grace of his, Pum slipped free of the law’s cage and down among his outdoor fellows again. “Have you any testimony to offer?” “No, ar.” Judge Knowlton tried to do his best by this prisoner, whose haggard, scrubby cheeks and bronze profile reminded him of a young Job in the ashes, a Job who had renounced his Maker. The boy needed every chance “Mr. Delaforce, have you no statement to make?” Salem wavered. He could not let his life go thus without an effort, but he did not know what effort or how to begin. This old gentleman’s tone, some decency underlying the bare words, gave him courage ‘Yes,”” he replied, “I have. Think I have.” “Do you wish to make it under oath?” “All right, sir.”’ He stumbled into the place where Pum had been, heard the clerk’s voice and the name of God, waited, saw everyone waiting for him to speak, and grew bewildered, a man in a mist “*On’y want to say this."” He heard him self talking like someone else: ‘‘Up where I come from no one ever doubted my word afore. That’s true. Someb’dy stole my ax on me. I never touched him again, not after we had the fist fight Never. If they’d read them tracks both ways, proper, they'd ‘a’ seen I come fresh up lake and found him layin’ there, just the way they did.”’ Salem felt the obscurity of his words, a tangle he could not clear away; his own mind saw plain enough the storm on the lake, and Asa’s hair, a chunk of doormat filled with driven snow. ‘I can’t seem: to put it right. They wouldn’t ‘a’ f no tracks o’ Beard. He was,half.cov a’ready.”’ Salem gave it up “Is that all?” said Judge Knowltor “Yes, sir, that’s all. I Jest mean to say, it don’t hang together sig “*TIs there to be any cross-examination It appeared that the district attorney had one qué stion to ask. He rose, took the ax from the table, stalked near, and lifted the handle under Salem's eyes for inspectior ‘Is this ax yours?” *T tolt you afore,” argued Sale me body went ye “Answer my question, yes or no,” eut i his adversary. “‘Is this ax yours?” es, it’s mine.” *‘That’s all, Your Honor,’’ proclaimed the somber tall man, and fell back, nodding to clinch matters The judge scraped his face down on bott sides with the flat of his hand “Mr. Delaforce,”’ he said, ‘‘is there any other witness you would like to call upon?”’ “No, sir,”’ replied Salem He found his way back-somehow to the refuge of his chair. The judge's voice cor tinued from above “Have you prepared any instructior that you desire to have given to the jur ‘ have.”” The man in black erge handed up some papers. Salem heard the same question put to him “No,” hesaid. ‘‘l wouldn’t know how Judge Knowlton regarded a stucco ring in the ceiling, a flyspecked ring round a hook coated with lampblack from some light of the church, long vanished “Do you desire to argue the case‘ ‘Most assuredly, Your Honor,” came a stalwart reply. “‘Proceed,”’ the judge told the ring, “‘ with your argument.”’ Upon thescene then — for Salem-- entered chaos and old night. He saw the black champion rise with great deliberation and >o EVENING POST PARIS GARTERS No metal can touch you Paris Garters work for you \6 hours a day 3000 Hows of Sofid Comfort ACH day calls for sixteen hours of active, steady garter duty. We guarantee a minimum of 3000 hours of solid comfort to every pur- chaser of PARIS Garters—months and months of freedom from leg weariness. 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THE SATURDAY Profits are Essential It is to the advantage of society that business as a whole shall be profitable. The great industries, the railroads and public utilities, which are the framework of national well-being, could never have to reasonable returns. Profit is the wage of service—the spur to endeavor—an objective of practically every material development of civilization. Good profits mean good service and prosperity—poor profits presage un- employment, hard times and _ business mortality. Our progress towards better times de- pends upon the general acceptance of the truism that business is worthy of its hire, To deny reasonable earnings to industries, railroads or public service sions is to deny their usefulness or right to existence. An important function of the National Bank of Commerce in New York is to aid legitimate business to earn a profit portance of its service. National Bank of Commerce in New York Capital. Surplus and Undivided Profits Sixty Million Dollars been created under conditions unfavorable EVENING POST dignity, toss back the drooping lock from his forehead, blow his nose in a loud blast, fold away his handkerchief thought- fully, explore the hollow of each hats and produce from each a cylinder of glassy linen buttoned with a moss agate, like armor for the back of his hands. Thus prepared, the man seemed a foot taller than before, gaunt as a moose. His voice became a bellow: a3 no clearer case of downright, pre- meditated, cold-blooded murder in the first degree has ever be’n presented to a jury in a court of justice!’’ Like a roaring gale, the words left Salem overthrown; he could not follow their sense, but hearkened in a panic of unwilling admiration. ‘I will now pr’ceed to tell you how each and every movement of the defendant has b’en clearly traced from the time he got up in the morn- ing, on the day before the murder, down to the time when he was safely landed behind bars, where he belongs.” The storm gained headway, but now and again dropped in a lull, cold, deadly. “Gentlemen, I have no need to remind you of this man’s motive for his turrible act.” The speaker lifted his hand, to display poor Sagamore’s old collar, and wave it in a gesture of contempt. “A dog! Nor do I need to remind you that many of the bitt’rest lawsoots in all history, and the foulest acts of bloodshed, have be’n committed on account of nothing more than a dog. Isit possible in any way, shape or manner, for you, gentlemen : Salem’s eyes took rest on the collar when it was laid down again. He did not even try now to listen, though more strange words beat upon him, burst round him. ‘The attention of the whole civilized world, I may say, is leveled on this county, | of testimony is completed. commensurate with the value and im-_ | did not matter. from which no capital felon has ever yet escaped the hangman’s noose. The men of this county are red-blooded —no mollycod- dies among them—they will not be content with any compromise. Either you must find the defendant guilty of murder in the first degree, as he clearly is, or else you must acquit him and bear that responsi- bility for the county’s disgrace which will inevitably follow when the passions of an outraged populace There was more, but at last it ended. A stir of people shifting in their seats, a fit of coughing, passed roundabout the room. Judge Knowlton waited for silence, then spoke; and Salem learned with astonish ment that the old gray scholar aloft sat quite unmoved, still as a rock. ‘*Have you any reply to this argument?” Salem rose. Here in this cave of lan- guage and phantoms was one godlike man who did not despise him. “T ain’t no talker, sir,” he replied. ‘“‘The gentleman who spoke again’ me is grand, but he’s made a mistake somewheres. Been told wrong. He can shed words like like—the way a carpenter sheds nails round a new building, but es He meant this fairly, a serious compli- ment. It was taken for humor. Salem heard suppressed titters and saw faces grinning. The blood rushed to his head. Laugh, would they, at a man doing his best, who knew it wasn’t much? He sat down in fury and despair, crying, ‘Take it or leave it, | never touched him!” “Ts that all?” said the judge. Salem nodded. He would never open his mouth to them again. “It would appear, then,” Knowlton after a pause, “ resumed Judge that the taking The court will therefore instruct the jury.” He handled the documents which the man in black serge had given him, wiped a pair of spectacles, put them on, and for a long time sat writing as though alone. Salem looked at the dog’s collar until the brasses blinked and made his eyes ache Then he looked round the room, too tired to care if it were full orempty. At the rear wall, by the door, a tall stove and crooked pipe blotched the regular pattern of the crowd. He thought he saw, lurking behind them, someone he might have known. It The judge was talking now. ‘Burden of proof is on the state through out. . . to prove the guilt of the a ndant beyond a reasonable doubt and if from all the evidence you have heard at this trial you have the slightest doubt as | to the guilt of the defendant it is your duty to acquit him. In other words, it is your duty to acquit him unless the evidence has convinced you of his guilt beyond a reason- able doubt. The court will further instruct you as to the difference between murder in January 28,1922 the first degree and murder in the second degree. And the court will further instruct you that by the law of this state in the event that you shall render a verdict of guilty of murder in the first degree it will be the duty of the court to impose upon the defendant a sentence of death.” Salem looked up for an instant, then down again. His mind was not afraid of death, which would be better than this present thing; yet at the word some part beyond his mind or underneath it went numb, like an elbow hit on the crazy bone “And if your verdict shall be guilty of murder in the second degree it will be the duty of the court to sentence the defendant to imprisonment for life.”’ Salem remained in that tingling stupor, while the voice flowed calmly on: “You are the judges of the credibility of the witnesses, and it will be for you to determine the truth of the evidence pre- sented wholly circumstantial, and if it does not as a whole convince your minds beyond all doubt that the defendant is guilty you willacquithim. . . .” Judge Knowlton handed papers down to the clerk, while talking, and at last inquired: ‘Di you wish to retire, gen itlemen, to deliberate upon your ve dict? The two ranks of men opposite were bobbing their heads together, whispering Salem could read in their faces a doubtful and frightened importance. Among them there spoke up a mild little man with no hair on his head: “I guess, judge, jury room.” “Very well, gentlemen.” They shuffled out, sad and awkward, like men behaving at afuneral. An officer, the same bailiff or sheriff who had taker Captain Constantine’s arm, closed after them a brown-painted door in the wall, and stood guard beside it under oath. Judge Knowlton, swinging his chair halfway round, plunged into a thought, a doze or something deep and unhappy. Time went xy; some boys, weary of delay, crawled backward off their window ledges and dropped from view into sunshine; and with the faint increase of light and air thus given, came drifting another spring chal lenge of cockcrow. Salem outstared the brass bosses on his dog collar. Let them blink as they would, they were the last friendly sign of his old world, taken from him, shortly to disap pear. Everything true and solid was melt ing in this region of words A knock sounded on the door, which the bailiff opened. ““‘We have feached a verdict,” voice from behind Salem watched the dozen men troop in The clerk called their names one by one They answered “‘Here,”’ ‘“‘ Here.’ The judge swung his chair to face them “Gentlemen, have you determined upon your verdict?” “We have,” piped up the little bald mar “What is your verdict?” That shining pate became frightened as the light was focused there “We tind the defendant * The fore man lost his voice During the pause for recovery, and eac} pause later, Salem had an impression, false probably, that all in the room waited thirsting for his blood “We find the defendant guilty der-—in the second degree.” Afterward he watched the clerk busily recording this, heard it read aloud, and the jury answering that it was their verdict He heard Judge Knowlton saying “Gentlemen, the jury is discharged. The court hereby appoints next Saturday morn ing, April twenty-fourth, at ten o’clock, as the time for pronouncing judgment on the defendant.” Twice that day the court room was to be disturbed. Of a sudden, quietly, Salem vaulted the rail before him, caught up Sagamore’s collar from the table and threw it over the heads of the crowd. “Hey, Trapper! Ketch!” It flew straight, though uncoiling, hi final message to his own. He had seer Kingcome hiding behind the stove. “Trapper,” he cried, ‘“‘give her to the little girl that lives opposite the lock acrost from where I seen ye last!” Charles Kingcome, who had evaded sub poena, did not shirk now. The collar me his broad palm in air and was engulfed Salem, vaulting back over the rail, stoo at ease. No one else had found time t move. we'd like to go t’ the Ci alle da Stage of mur TO BE CONTINUED ' ; i | 4 i i \ y H 4 | 4 i % v 5

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ee OLS 2RY-TEK © COCO/ DEae te “Miata ae ‘3 . > a A Chocolate Blended to Suit the American Taste THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Little Miss ZAY-TEK REG. U.S. PAT. OFF “I'm often askedewhat is the best cocoa bean. There is no individual bean that is best. Chocolate flavors are obtained, not from any one cocoa bean, but by the blending of different beans together.”’ \ K y' decided years ago to perfect a blend of chocolate for the American taste—a blend as individu- ally American as the French is French and the Swiss, Swiss. From Ecuador we obtained the rich, red-brown cocoa bean, famous for its body and marvelous flavor. With it we blended the fragrant beans of Ceylon, Brazil and the West Indies. We have been blending chocolate for twelve years. This experience has enabled us to get just the right lus- ciousness, full-bodied flavor and fra- grant aroma that have made Zay-Tek Chocolate A CHOCOLATE BLENDED TO SUIT THE AMERICAN TASTE. Zay-Tek is the family name of a line of chocolate products. Zay-Tek Eatmors, Zay-Tek Almond Bars and Zay-Tek Cocoa are ail blended to suit the American taste. Next time ask your grocer for Zay-Tek Cocoa It comes in 1-Ib., %-lb. and \s-lb. cans We put this chocolate up in handy, air-tight tubes, and called them Zay- Tek Eatmors. Their popularity has grown al- most overnight. Before we knew it Zay-Tek Eatmors sales were doubling and trebling. Nothing else can prove so convinc- ingly that Zay-Tek Eatmors suit the American taste. Prove it yourself. Go into any store and ask for a big red tube of Zay-Tek Eatmors. You’ll be surprised with the deliciousness of this creamy- smooth chocolate. Its blended flavor is wonderfully satisfying to your taste. Try it today. January 28,1922 NY

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} ee | THE SATURDAY THE BLACK ANGEL Continued from Page 17 “Don’ you git pestered wid dis yeller nigger, Wilecat. Dat boy las’ quick f’m now on. I knows dem island niggers. Worked on a sugar boat goin’ on two years down dere Worked another year on a banana boat roun’ Haiti an’ Jamaica. Dat Som’set nigger las’ just so long before somethin’ outlasts him. Mebbe fk won't las’ dat long. Us sees him at de party Wensday night an’ you sees how triflin’ he is.”’ “Slam de do’ in mah face, Demmy. Didn’t tell you dat.” ““Nev’ min’, Wilecat. Befo’ us is done wid him he be prayin’ fo’ rain an’ smellin’ smoke whah his feet hits de road. Us crematizes dat nigger in his own leavin’ heat. I knows, an’ ! tells you.” ‘*To-morr’ I sees Cap'n Jack an’ tells him he don’t need «is Som'’set no longer an’ den 2a **Wilecat, leave me advise you. Wait till dat boy is gone fust. Den when you sees de cap’n dey ain’t no hitch. When you sees dis Som’set at de party Wensday night you gives him de run so he neveh comes back.” “Whut you mean—cut him loose f'm Memphis wid de blood hook?” ‘*Dat’s de las’ thing I means. No blood ruckus. Jus’ promise whut you aims to do.”’ ‘““Demmy, gin’ally I hates to do de promisin’ fust, but dis time I does whut ou sez. I talks to dat boy an’ warns him Afteh dat, less he heeds de spoken promise, I cuts him down to grass size an’ lets Lily eat de remains.” ‘Dat nigger leave easy, Wilecat. I knows his kind. Yaller f’m skin to skin.” m1 AT SIS’ TILLY'S party Wednesday night fA the Wildcat and Demmy preceded the enemy by fifteen minutes. The pair edged toward the crowd that had already swarmed around a huge tin dishpan in which was a mixture that from its aroma promised to have enough reaction to make it worth drinking. Sis’ Tilly and her husband, who was the ninth-floor janitor of one of the tallest buildings in Memphis, had a reputa- tion for hospitality second to none, and hospitality in the brunet elect there pres ent was gauged by the alcohol index of the refreshments served With the Wildcat’s third cup of the in- vigorating fluid he heard in his ear the voice of his hostess: ‘‘Misteh Marsden, lemme make you ‘quainted to Misteh Som’set Misteh Som'set wuks fo’ yo’ ol’ mil’tary leadeh. I spee’ you gits fren'ly real soor ount of that.” De mmy, tar ding beside the Wildeat figured that Sis’ Tilly had one more gues coming to her The Wildeat threw diplomacy and re- serve to the four winds. “I knows this nigger, Sis’ Tilly ’” He turned to his rival ‘*Som’set, git away f’m me till I gits done wid my likker.”” Deliberately he spilled the dregs of his third cup on the quad ‘*Lseless, stan’ back roon’s polished shoes befo’ you gits drownded.” Ten seconds later, with half a dozer burly male guests restraining each of the pair, the Wildcat’s challenge was answered direct and without intermediate assistance ‘*Misteh Marsden, it will afford me great ple asure to have the opportunity of meet- ing you in the squared circle to-morrow night.” ‘You mean you ’cepts "i ae The Wildcat adaressed the company: ‘Folks, I ’pologizes fo’ havin’ any hand ir a ruckus in Sis’ Tilly’s house. I ’vites you one an’ all to de nex’ session ’twixt me an’ dis Som’set nigger to-morr’ night in de back room of Willy Webster’s shop; an’ de rough’ree betteh bring a shovel an’ save hearse hire fo’ dis Useless Som’set’s nex’ of kit Iv N THE following day Demmy, acting O as the Wildecat’s trainer and.-coach, moral adviser, manager and second, got into action with the rising sun and by nine o'clock the ring costume for his principal had been created from the lower half of a purple swimming suit. The alterations which transformed the trunks into battle raiment consisted of six loops sewed around the waistband through which was laced a thick felt band bearing, in painted capitals, the word “champion.” Shortly after nine o'clock Demmy re- turned to the hotel room with the battler’s uniform At his manager’s request the Wildcat had remained in bed, resting. He was presented with the champion pants “Put dese on you, Wilecat, an’ wear ’em Save time when it comes to de finish to- night.”’ “*Whut dem words say on dem pants Demmy? You knows I kaint read.” ““Dey says champeen. Ain’ is you,.”’ The Wildcat slid into his champion pants and festooned himself with his outer raiment. Throughout the day he wore the pants and derived comfort and moral courage from the secret knowledge that he was branded with truth and that when he stepped into the ring the world could read the facts without having to wait for a demonstration. At breakfast, against his trainer’s ad- vice, the Wildcat indulged himself heartily. ‘“‘Demmy, I don’t aim to let no prize fight ‘flooence me against my rations. Whilst I kin, I eats. Dat’s my slogum—eat whilst you kin git it “cause some day de country goes Democrat an’ den yo’ teeth gits a furlough.”’ After breakfast the pair returned to the Wildcat’s room. ‘‘Git rested, Wilecat. Lay down an’ stay dere till it’s time to eat again. Save yo’ strength.” This was a noble program and the Wild- cat adopted it. Through the day until long after noon he snored himself into condition to hand his rival the ticket to dreamland At Willy Webster’s place the battle pen was finished by four o’clock and the ropes, no doubt which had seen service in a dozen similar encounters, were stre tched as tight as the canvas covering that concealed the elevated ring structure. The arena was ready be- fore the Wildcat had finished his elaborate At six o'clock, from various sources, Der y's ears were assailed with bits of whispered data concerning the opposition, which reacted unfavorably on the sawed-off second. He joined his principal and the Wildcat was quick to note some change in his companion “How come you se downcasted, Demmy? Little while an’ de skies is clear.” **Ain’t downcasted, Wilecat. You mis- took my look. Go easy ge greens. Dey’s weakenin “Tis. Dey eats easy. Howis de bettin’?”’ fettin”’ is even De some money comin’ out on Som'set;: n os’ly f'm outside niggers.” The Wildcat hauled out his own roll. He dit to Demmy. “B F B ry, heah’s gou Stand it up whah it kin spe ak its piece vad Demmy took the roll. I bets it, Wile- cat. I got to get my own laid out. Us bet teh git to de place now Gong at eight.” **Le’s go. Us beats de gong.” The palr walked to the Webster estab lishment, where half the spectators had gathered The Wildcat was accorded a reception which left no doubt in his mind as to the outcome of the fray. Through the crowd he plowed his way, leading his mas- cot goat behind him, and his progress was a continual march of premature triumph Demmy lost himself in the crowd and for half an hour, busy on the various mysteri ous errands of a manager, was absent from the Webster shop His actions during this absence were worthy of note. The first thing he did after he left the crowded barber shop was to buy a red bandanna handkerchief at a little store. Farther down the street at a butcher shop he negotiated for a handful of thir sheep ribs from the narrow ends of six mut- ton chops. He hurried to the se lusion of his room with these trophies and spent a feverish five minutes in scraping the shreds of meat from the bones he had gathered Then he tore the red bandanna handkerchief into strips two inches wide, cutting each long strip into four-inch sections. A ragged white towel suffered the same fate. He stuffed the accumulation of red and white rags into a side pocket of his coat, and on this foundation, within easy reach, he stowed the six bones When he returned to the barber shop he lingered outside a while, horning into vari- ous groups of colored humanity until he found those for whom he was searching. 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{ ’ Cortinued from Page 69 \ few hurried words—and the Wildecat’s roll of bills was staked against a like sum and deposited with the Reverend Kinney Tell, pastor of the Third Uplift Church, who was there in the i of himself ind society and whose official integrity acceptable terests nade him a stakeholder equally » both factions. With the Wildeat’s roll Demmy e his wn money. ‘‘Dat’s eight | hund’ed, und, an no adverti sin “Us respec s yo’ bruthet The Sphinx was garrulous comparea with i Kir ney Tell. **Dat’s fine. Come wid me an’ I gits y a ring side seat.’”” Demmy towed the walk I © bank hreu the packed crowd 1 } faneee to the i side room where the battle stage was wal He escorted the Rev’ und Tell to a seat close beside the Wild- ‘You sees it fine f’m heah.” And from there, i x hurried departures, him nine A rising mi the opposition “Ds confidence, 7S cats corner case of emergencies Demmy could ms boy wid de big coat In the crowd Demn y newcom 3 When passed nim Demmy reached out his hand, and into the near pocket of the big coat he dropped two thin bones and two torn shreds of the red bandanna. This accomplished, he retired to a secluded space near the » Wildeat’s corner of the ring, where four clotheslines pended long curtains which nome ane i the valls of the ringside dressing room The Wildcat was stripped to his ch pion pants and was seated on a box, wait- z easily for the moment of battle. Beside n, nibbling heartily on the end of a yellow necktie, sat the mascot goat Demm y sized up his champion. ‘‘You feelin’ right fo’ de fray?”’ “Demmy, I feels a million. Is de money edged toward the Som’ set “All | bet an’ de stakeholder at de ring side.’ They were interrupted by the penetrat g voice of Willy Webster, who be gan to address the assemblage: ‘Folks, git calm! De night’s contes’ is between Misteh Vitus so rsden, who you knows better as Wilecat; and Misteh Eustis Som’set, de gr ney unknown. Dese men fights under de ol’-time rul bes’ spressed by de sin ple advice, git yo’ meat. I } ae an fet yh of servir as roug secon’s will enteh de cipals an’ I interduces Misteh Som’set A murmur of applause greeted the Son erset entrance. The rough’res ‘Misteh Marsde n, bes’ knowed as de Wilecat.”’ The Wildcat returned to his corner and at down in a chair beside which stood Lily. On the mascot’s face was a look of vonderment but her real expression was considerably concealed by the flowing ends of the yellow necktie, upon which teadily munched. I turned from urvey of the crowd and upon the vi sections of her countenance was writtena which the Wildcat read and an- } continued juestion wered., ‘How’s it comin’ out? Goat, dat Som’ et ain’t comin’ out. He’s goin’; an’ feet fust at dat.” “Blaa-a!”’ As well as she could Li ily ex- pressed her belief in the truth of the Wild cat’s prediction. Demmy, busy a moment with the laces of the Wildcat’s thin gloves, whispered his final words of advice: “Stay away f'm him—dat boy looks heavy in de hands Bide yo’ time, an’ when de openin’ comes, fill it up!” ‘ ‘Demmy, Buttir ’ ain "t barred.’ ‘Nothin’ barred. Git yo’ meat!’ “Us gits it. Is learns dat nigger who works fo’ Cap’n Jack.” Bang! The gong. Two dancing figures in the center of the cone of light that spread downward upon the arena The Wildcat, looking for an early chance to utilize his battering-ram technic, kept his head low. Som’set, light on his feet, covered the listance around his opponent three times before the crowd began to hand out free advice. Lily, standing tense beside Demmy in the Wildeat’s corner, tried her best to under stand what was going on. She chewed more slowly on the yellow necktie. Then the Wildcat saw his chance. Head low, he rammed straight for Som’set’s belt. Ram-bam! I fills it. Fills it wid my head Before the instant of contact, whicl sceenes Steen ly delayed, the Wildcat wa of some intervening cat: astrophe had not been scheduled —something like a pussonal train wreck le-stepped quickly and then with the effective style of a mule he had kicked } ns heavy y right foot straight for the Wildeat’s neck The Wildcat crumpled up and like a sack of anvils “Six —seven e ight,’ J the rough’ree’s rice sounded sharp t the uproar Som’set waited for the ten, and then, g his honors proudly, he leaned far over the side of the roped area and grasped the outstretched hands tl waved before Som’set had si dropped eneat “Thank you; thanks. Yes; the French hnie—with the foot. Thank you.” 4 broad band of streaming goat hair! A galloping goat! Contact! Som’set, stooping to rec eive the > plaudits crowd, dived suddenly, impellec 1 point of origin, at which en! aged and bleating mascot } ls of the headlong from his danced the 3] to the applause which greeted from the ring upon vi y, gazed down her fallen victin to her side Goat, mpeen belt! Come in’ dy 1amite!"’ He re : leading the 1! de r cover! of the tur- downward toward the id Kinney Tell. ‘All right, Rev’ und!” His ~~ a returned carryit g a tignt package which he stored in the depths of his right-hand pocket This accomplished, the sawed-off second walked to the Wildcat’s side and held a bottle to the fallen one’s lips. ‘‘ Wilecat wake ! Drink dis!” ‘Lif’ dat engine off me. Whuf!G n! Whi you git de gin, Demmy ? What's all de folks doin’ heah?’ ‘Set up, Wilecat Does walk?” “Sho do 3 corner you feel able to Whah’s Som’set?”’ ‘Dey’s carryin’ dat nigger to de clothes room f'm whah he lit Looks like he’s led.”’ “Whah at I hit dat boy “to ‘In de foot Wid yo’ neck Drink dis gin an’ us goes away sudden Demmy stopped only long enough to edge into the opposition’s dressing room, ‘ to extend the Wildcat’s compli- ments. He lingered two minutes, finding unity to secrete the remainder of the 1d white rags and the thin bones in V arious poe kets of Som’set’s street clothes. “When Som’set wakes up tell him git home quick,” he advised “Cap'n Jack likely need him = The Wildcat, able to walk, got some of the story on his way up the street from Willy Wet r’s place. The more he heard the worse ] Don’ tell me no mo’, Demmy. Ise heard twice aplenty. Dat yaller baboon kick me to sleep, an’ u long ‘nuff to let dat greenback money git away; dat nigger still got his job wid Cap'n lack, an’ heah us is. Dog-gone dat Lady uz dat woman heah I’dr ‘ devil’s waitin’ wid de sleeps heah to whah de rimstor { * oy Demmy made no direct reply “Come on, Wilecat. Git goin’,”” he urged. “‘ Drag that champeen goat wid you.’ *Whah’s us gwine?”’ ‘Us nakes de alley back of yo’ Cap'n i Jack’s ee se Might ser omethin’ in t’restin’ if us is in time.” They turned into the alley at twenty; minutes before nine In the shadows near Capte Jack’s woodshed they. waited quit | r five minute ind then the st ness was broken by the sound of shuffling feet Down the a half running and ning to himself, twisting around every y leet to look behind him, came Som’ et, victor of the 1 ight’s event When the runner’s face was revealed by the little incandescent midway of the alley it showed gray except for a long skinless strip running from his forehead to the sehen of his nose. He was mumbling to himself and most of his words were strange on the Wildcat’s ears: **Zomby ! Ah sweet Lard! Key-bless! Eyes that look at the sun! Sweet Lard on paloi ligh! Zomby Pa THE SATURDAY EVENING POST git me! Red rag and the white yrie Zomby! Ooo-Papaloi! *Whut ails dat | yy?” The Wildcat whispered his questior “Shut up. Lisser The frenzied Som’ latch on the woodshed door door and when he was inside and or way to the other suggestion: ‘‘Come in de woodshed quick. Dat nigger comes back mighty su den, less Ise crazy.” The pair secreted themselves in the dark end of the woodshed and wedged the 1 cot goat between them. They waited les than two minutes and again they heard the tortured voice of the yaller Eustace “Redeeming Lard! White rag and the house Demmy ventured ar white bone! Wow-oo0! Zomby The frenzied trav I T suitcase with him and he a riv the fear of some invisible menac , at boy gives me de skin reeps sho acted crazy. Whut you s’pose ails him?’ When the departing Som’set neared the far end of the alley the W idcat who nad emerged from the woodshed t ni £0, ventured another quest on . WI it } ail dat travelin’ fool?”’ His companion did not rep] urecti Instead, “‘ Wilecat, watch him now an’ sees him go,” he advised, Dem: cupped his hands and moaned a long-drawr t reverberating word ter the fugitive “Zommm-m-m, Zom-by!" ‘Lawd, Demmy, look at dat boy go! Wuz de tongues out dat boy’s shoes he’d be fly in pd In the seemed to double his pace at Demm The accelerator turned to his companior ‘Go on in an’ ‘ap’ distance the racing Som’set job wid Cap'n Jacl Dat Som’set 1 ain’t neveh co hack to dis place } no mo’.”’ ‘Ise gwi but befo'I busts te me whut ails dat ller hour ‘Nothin’ ails him, ’cept de Zombies i afteh him. Ghosts, dat’s whut dem Haiti niggers mos’ drea¢ ds Ol’ Zomby comes an’ leaves a sign—li’l ’ bone or els« mebbe a ol’ piece of rag an’ dem Haiti 1 geers got hog wild. Jamaica! Huh! Wil dey tol’ me dat boy talked dis Frenchlike talk I look close an’ seed de Haiti blue undeh his yellah skin. I been in Haiti on a banana boat. I knows dem island nigger Knows dem an’ all dat voodoo stuff.’ *‘Demmy, all I sez is hot dam! You beats hell! Mebbe you is middlin’ sized outside, but ins! ] meat. Come on } Jack gits a lool worl’!”’ “Go git yo’ i o’ head yo’ all wh job wid yo’ an’ dis chan peen goat walt it if hed whilst you meets de +4 Stepping high the | ond trip to Captain Jack’s back door. His knock was answered this time by the cool ‘Whut you want, rappin’ de do’ so late?” Craves to meet up wid ( J Ise his ol’ boy f'm det eus wu Fr f Leave me in befo I tell him to 1 lo help “Cookin’ help. When I gits through w Cap'n Jack I aims to lear uu how mucl [kineat. You thinks I eats a meal vyomal when I is eatin’ right it take uu and two no’ avile cooks to handle de grul Whe I eat I platter gra mile iro ' Whah’s my white “In de lib’ar Car ‘ j G'long in. Come , I feed ; Git goin’, you ct ttle ike! The Wildcat } , the f f the 1s " f ey he lropped |} hat on tl u tr ign ¢ ( 10¢ ( Jack. He came toa id halt silent fora minute voking at } 1 wh folk A eaten fear gripped } the a terrif way of apprehension came to him. ‘“ Whut if de cap'n fails me He looked around him. Through the } open door of a coat closet he saw a fade olive-drab overcoat with the three ¢ 1 chevrons on the left sleeve He grabpe the coat and lifted it from its ho He brushed it light] with } hand and the he began currying it with | ow! eeve As he worked |} woked A ! that t | \ the tat He quit w e coat pres le ( I ‘ to the ‘ i t il 4 ta pach { tna la ( lhe brushing was resu a { ti t ‘ i i imi Indu { it t iscular labor the Wildcat involunt Dbreathed i mpaniment of wt per Rat wher I kir git it ee] Tri all de time, I don't give a dog-gor f ce in don't evel I ‘ I } ie a lreig train, Id t pay no fare, I i Capt i looked uy Tl kit le a freight train, almost ar re i he ng grew tror iwi pe ( ed hur £ Dat’s de rea | is a bee I don't bother vhnen w“ + | ? hnother W icat e! Cay ve ih! f long stride the ligal gained the library and fa ( tain Jack He licked stiffly to atte t iswung a pertect lute toward th white mar Cap'n, suh, us is heah! At rest! Cut that monkey busine out Capr ) place ‘cept con bach Be com bach le | gre time! she proud to see you. Dis coat seems mussed ip id some triflir nigger Put it bach Captain Jack turned head from the Wildcat lirectio ind called through the doorwa Eustace! Eustace S et!” Capr ih, dat nigwyer is left. Is he g ’ de way he was when I seed him he bx in i ar by bedtime Capta Jack looked at the Wildcat and the rved t ite hi get that hot gur about the tir Uriea Tel the | t want wy ey parting, he hesitated at the doorway for a moment Dey 1 boy wid me, cap’: ort of sawed-off, dwindlin’ nigger named Demmy\ Bo ee! took bad w de work gr r Is he a good |} { Cap’: h, de be@ | Ise ever seed! Reg’ lar Dia ingel!”’ ‘ he cook to feed him Red | do try } If he’s no good | bot! ou | lay after whe I get TY re t ‘ ap’n, yessuh!” In spite of orders t the contra the Wildeat contributed f milita honors to the ceremony of his « but once clear of the zone of visibility | manner changed. He hung up the coat a picked up hit hat from the floor ar by the time he rea ed the tcher he was iwritl ng pers it f Old Man Je G ce i t 1 Tire ar prepare he f¢ ! econd I gits | K In two min nit ar Nar? i, womar git go wid de rat bel idade death dela yu rhe w A i galloped to the woodshed where waited Den ind the ma ts t “Hot dam, Demmy! | hired « Caj e7 » us bot} tt wor i le fust w } traini iat ’ VI it au rey if T Kin be whet T | me ar ] (sit Come g, I befo’ de flies ¢ j tand Afte in nour ‘ the kitche ur Wildcat edged ba ire the tal fa er igh t gr fort On! grief 1 got, Demr ‘ lat batth e\ bet Hat to lose dat ome 1 ent Dr ! raz it } col ‘ 1 the eache o ’ right j ‘ h Re l- K ! ed " tne ‘ f , e H id 1 e pile cae - \ it ( ri hu n i! epe ed 1) whut A W tl Hov t ‘ I ered 1 int Ir ' { lent hf ‘

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST January 28,1922 Welcome the Fuller Man Because—He describes the forty-five “ House hold Necessities” that save time and abol ish drudgery in any home. Because—Fuller Brushes are in universal de mand. Represent every modern improve ment in scientifically-constructed brushes for personal and household use. Based upon 15 years’ study of brushing require ments—plus actual experience in millions of homes. ane ee ae DT BRyt t Because—You, the users of Fuller Brushes, get better quality at lower prices as The Fuller Brush Company is the largest buyer of brush material in the world, and attains unusual economies in purchasing and manufacturing ie eed ee ae . #. ee ie % 43 Because—tThe proper amount and kind of ma- terial goes into every Fuller Brush—only material that fits each brush for its particu- lar job and assures maximum durability. (Brush makers recognize these exclusively Fuller characteristics.) Genuine Fuller Brushes carry this tag in addition to the trade mark. Look for both! Z 4 \ USES-HEAD TO FOOT

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SATURDAY g EVENING POST Be CAUSE | ulle r Brushe s are never sold in stores. The Fuller Man shows them, allows ’ 1] you to try them, and proves how they will ; lighten your daily tasks. A service obtained : } through no other method of merchandising. t ? ' Because—The Fuller Man is one of 3000 trained and supervised salesmen of Fuller Brushes. Chosen for his intelligence, char- ' acter and ability to be of service to you— as well as for his ability to sell Fuller Brushes. aw pede Gus, tennis ; Because—The Fuller Man is a gentle- man, whom you may admit to your home with confidence. His calls are regular—a few months apart ¥ STS ReMi eEe xe oy | 2 eth lees i All Fuller Brushes carry the Fuller Red Tip Tag and Qe z have the Fuller trade mark permane ntly stam ped on the e \ handle 1// Fuller representatives wear the Fuller trade button. Look for thes the tag, trade mark and - 4 Fuller button. They assure you genuine Fuller quality ? bt \ =f ? ia hl ‘ . , . ™" ‘ } rHE FULLER BRUSH COMPANY $ Hartford, Connecticut ; Fuller Brush Co, Ltd., Hamilton, Canada . h Office % \ ’ . 4 i © + we Ae, \ : o- Sey % , Ya hia —— tte PA es Coes nt TST SOE or ea eo q SA PPPS» ie RO Bitte Maiabe fies WOT TEPETT bent ee nner denies nem BU oc ti | i 4 \ | ; a ! a , | , | f re Fuller Brushes carry this tag in addition to the trade mark. Look for both!

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST January 28,1922 / PLU The House Axe The Plumb House Axe is a “‘one-hand”’ axe light enough for a woman to use—heavy enough to ‘‘stand the gaff’’ of real hard usage. Because of its short handle it can be used freely in cellars or basements with low ceilings. Or, it can be carried conveniently on ‘‘hikes”’ or in the ‘‘woods.”’ An ideal tool for farmers, for ‘‘ brushing ’”’ the wood-lot, ‘‘tinkering’’ around the barn, or for any outdoor cutting, splitting or driving use. Made the special Plumb way from one piece of high-grade special-analysis steel. The blade has been double tempered, toughened, refined and hard- ened by Plumb armor plate heat treatment for an inch and a half above the cutting edge. It can be ground and reground and won’t go “soft.” The handle is weathered hickory, beautifully mahoganized. Head is handsomely hand-forged fin- ished. The same high grade workmanship as in Plumb Hammers, Hatchets, Files, Sledges and Axes. Get a Plumb House Axe at your hardware dealer’s. Price: $1.50. FAYETTE R. PLUMB, Inc., Philadelphia, U.S. A. Factories, Philadelphia and St. Louis Established 1856 Foreign Branches and Representative ydaey Wellington Melb« Brisbane Mani Johannesburg Pauk Montevide Santiago Buenos Aires Hammers Hatchets Files Sledges Axes eR oem arn Ask for a Plumb Hammer When you go to your dealer, don’t mere- ly ask for a Hammer. . be sure you get a Plumb! Then you'll own a hammer that will help you do a better “job” Claws that make a nail come, head or no head .. A broader strik- ing face . . . Famous Plumb Hand Comfort Handle—all make the Plumb Hammer the ideal hammer for the home. Mechanics every- where say ‘‘They’re worth more.” Sold by all Hardware ealers Price: $1.50. TULNVEWN GAN 1d JRL 18 CF S30VMa NY 2OWA TS wine & Zari 3F1GASG Swhitd

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THE SATURDAY WHEN THE SHOE BEGINS truck, which is readily repaired by any garage mechanic. Its fuel and oil econo mies, as compared with the earlier type of gasoline-propelled unit, are large. Already it has succeeded in saving several short- line railroads that otherwise would have been bankrupted and torn up, to the detri- ment of the communities they were built to serve. Enough for this article, however, of the possibilities of the gasoline unit car as a re- placer of the dying local train. One might go far afield into the opportunities that it offers. There is an even wider aspect to the picture, and one reaching farther than merely the ills of the local trains across the land. It goes into the larger problems of our expensive railroad operation and seeks to effect vast economies all the way across the land. The shoe pinches—and pinches hard, in- deed—-these days. You have only to pick up any issue of your favorite newspaper to find where and how it is pinching—rail- road executives protesting to the high heavens that they cannot even make their operating expenses; railroad workers as- serting that even their new wage awards do not bring them in proper compensation; railroad stockholders pointing to the so- called guaranty of the wretched Transporta- Act and asking when their 6 per cent is are going to be paid; shippers ing that the service in ten been so bad as it is to-day, tion

years and not finding their complaints answered ¥! the railroaders with the hard-lue k story of de- pleted treasuries and no sale for the secul ties that might go to fill them once agai

The Laggard Locomotive It sure does pinch —that railroad ind a dozen cocksure cobblers to whom yo might take it for correction might e: suggest a dozen different remedies here which I think is well worthy of the consideration of practical railroaders and which of recent years has had none too much consideration from any of them: The American steam locomotive of to- day is a laggard. In the days when fuel was both plentiful and comparatively cheap one might merely say that it was extrava- gant, and let it go at that. But now, when coal, if not is far expensive, its extravagance has become totally ur warranted. In 1918, the most recent year for which the figures are available, our laggard loco- motive consumed 163,006,000 tons of co in addition to 45,700,000 barrels of « Reducing these last to their coal equiva- lent, we have a total fuel consumptior expressed in terms of coal of 176,000,000

Is one carcer, more

tons. And when we measure that consump- tion alongside the freight carried—1918 was one of the record years of our Amer- ican railroads—it will be seen that for every 1000 tons of freight the V moved one mile they burned 290 pounds of coal; while through any modern steam-generating ele tric station—the figures taken from the modern power houses of the few steam railroads that already have been progres- sive enough to install motive power—an even 100 pounds of coal may easily move more than 1600 tons of freight one mile; in the accurate phrasing of the railroaders themselves, 1600 ton miles. An absolutely universal substitution of electric for steam power all the way across the land, however, is not practical to-day nor is it apt to be practical in any day to come-—for every mile of our 275, 600 mil?s of American railroad system. On the other hand, this huge estimate of national saving is based entire aly upon the coal-con sumption basis. The most impressive savings that you will see before you are finished with this article are those accomplished by our lines which have utilized water power, hith- erto wasted, for the movement of their trains. In a fairly recent issue of THE SAT- URDAY EVENING Post I told of standing upon the brink of Niagara Falls and there seeing train after train arrive and depart, each hauled by a steam locomotive. And all the while I knew that the force and power of that mighty cataract was lighting the homes and driving the street cars of Toronto and of Syracuse—by land, respec- tively 100 and 150 miles distant. What a travesty upon efficiency! For the moment, however, we are seeing the question not in fine but in large. It is

electric

Continued from Page 23) large, terribly wasteful, if you For not only is our steam loco- motive a laggard in its overgreed for food, but it is lazy into the bargain. A fearful proportion of its time is spent in resting or in being refitted for its work. For each hour that it spends out upon the line, it spends another hour in the roundhouse and this of course quite of the yearly visit to the shops for complete over- hauling and repair. The traffic of Fifth Avenue, New York, or Mic higan Avenue, Chicago, would never move if motor cars were permitted to park alongside their busy curbs. One reason why the traffic upon our railroads has not moved better in times of stress is because there has been too much parking, both of locomotives and of cars, particularly of the first. An Eastern trunk-line railroad which a dozen years ago was having a fearful time moving its freight brought in a consulting engineer for an opinion as to the increase of its facilities. Like most engineers, the outside expert saw the problem as a field- day possibility for contracting concerns and engineers. A new classification yard here, great additions and rearrangements for others at other plac es, a long stretch of terribly p ease, outside additional main-line trackage—the trick might be done for anywhere from $60,- 000,000 to $100,000,000—there in yester- year. These figures staggered the pre: the road. He was not si l turned again for outside cor 1, thi time with the hard-headed general manager sident of i

of a Western line. ‘Tell me, what can you make of it?” he isked The Wests toc i hurried trip er the line and had |} eport read ixty minutes thereafte It w concise, verbal. “Give me a coupl of

worth more locomotives, and in a week I'll have your problem solved. ; ou don't want more yards to be clogged u turn. You want ird shortage and the. movement. If you have a sufficiency of motive — you won't need many yards—not so m as you have to-day. Your stuff will keep moving, not hanging around on sidetracks. The problem of that Eastern road of dozen year hat of practi ago is to-day t

every trunk line of the Northeast more than a decade there has been no main-line trackage laid down east of Pitt bi 1 or Cleveland. Previ« to that time a siderable amount of relief work had been done by a half dozen or so of the larger roads in that territory. But the re lief that these changes gave has long since been swallowed up, until to-day it is hardly apparent and the steadily growing traffi demands fresh relief. Too Much Parking How it can be given is not an ¢ Lt prone to the big engineers. The Penns vives lla cal id has planned still more low-grade reli and through the Alleghany but -Pittsburgh still remains neck, in there between the high all but defying the rail

line across 9 pants its bottle hills and road er gineers The New York Central needs more main-line trackage; but far more does it — a relief of its own bottle necks—at Albany and again at Buffalo. It is the pro} Fa of the cities that count —not merely Albany or Buffalo or Pittsburgh, but New York and Boston and Philadel- phia and Baltimore and Cleveland and ( iati and St. nd Chicag

» is no use in laying additional

tracks when the nals in the s of these great cl ure so sad] congested that it take eight car a long to move thr as from 300 to open line. The smooth and shiny ste¢ slip through each of these congested traffic their Fifth Avy é nei Michigan ig wise too. We do not permit the gasoline locomotive to park and ob struct these haieony s of asphalt. But the laggard steam locomotive is permitted to loaf in great roundhouses along the steel highway. It is to-day not merely a laggard but an actual obstructionist. I hinted but a moment ago at the time it must spend between runs resting and being more or less overhauled | 1

ugh as » one of them 500 miles on venue hubs are

ely fires cleaned, machinery over- hauled, flues calked and the like twelve hours out of each twenty-four. Moreover

EVENING POST TO PINCH

requires water each twenty-five miles nd a fresh sup} ly of coal each fifty. On the other h: ind, take the electric loco- motive. Not only does it save weight by not carrying coal or water, and so puts that weight into motive machinery — its strength to-day is 7000 horse power as i t tt 3000 of our largest team locomotives — but

it ac tually goes 5000 miles without having to receive the inspection attention that its old-fashioned am brother has to have at the end of 150. Which mearts that days at a tin week or a fortnight, if the ssity arises it can keep in steady service, going from one trai:

and even a

nece

to another and only changing crew The a is always ready, And what is true in thi comparison ol the front- shop light repairs and overhaul ing which the steam i motive must ur dergo at the end of each division is still more true of that fortnight in the bach shop—the heavier repairs and thorough overhauling that it must have each twelve month if it is to be kept in anything like a decent and efficient condition. The steam locomotive must go to the back shop at the end of 75,000 miles Barring accicents, the electric locomotive need never go there. It only ordinary repairs are the removing worn bearings or the occasional rewinding

of an armature, which can be easily ac complished in any small shop at a divi point, The elaborate plant of round houses, coal and water stations, turntable cinder pits and s sizable s shops require 100 or 150 miles along the lines of a steam railroad disappear, while with the facility of the nei 9 ecg for long-continued runt ng the Ve aisappear,

division point themselves may Electrical Economies The New York Central Rail tween New Yorl using steam locomotives for this distance, makes } i upon the one-way run. The Erie and the Lackawanna between t make the same n So do the yivar la

niles be three en imber of engine changes Baltimore & Ohio and the between New York and ly shtly longer di idard team-raliroad tance. practice

lines used electr womotives the eng ld ea iKe this entire tretch—with a possible change or two of engine crew but not of motive ind at a vast i g of t ( rout nd n ey. These tatement ¢ made l TI particular one is made up the authority of the president of the Chicago, Milwaukee & St. Paul Railway, which | iccessfully undertaken the longest and yet introduced name is H, | } id to-d ‘ t opera

Pe yivania # er New Yorl and Pitt burgh ind agair from Otl lo to lacoma, Was! gton, 2111 ‘ *“‘We regularly run our ¢ tr locomo tive the entire 438 miles between Harlow ton and Avery « ame passeng tr Mr n ind if the tra vere electrified for that d ance ild just is We run it 4000 1 Inf rt n attendance nd tear, shop ca 1 the ‘ WE gure that ae f neavic ir type | f ‘ ‘ P 1 ‘ ( the Ha \ the + + ' have repla f 0 that formerly we , The | er for this sect ( gt higt r gre of the R i ve is | rosse the ¢ ides, 1 Ip} i ¢ r by water. fuel sav 50 1 ‘ f just an or gi ed malt line railr« twelve! i ‘S59 OOD t of coal and 3 00,000 gallor of fuel oil, according to if ireful estimates for igie typical year is considerable W he you come to project these to the bu double-tracked and triple-tracked and four of our Eastern territor Continued on Page 77 icked railroad

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|

KELLOGG’ STRAWBE and How to Grou ‘RRIES Them KELLOGG WAY R M KELLOG G Bex 492 Three Rivers,

co Mick

455 MLA RIAIN Lit for Fords Genuine =HASTINGS nt

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Vherma-Seal Inner Lining em THE SATURDAY EVENING Branches: Homer Furnace Co., 72-74 Marietta St., Atlanta, Ga. Homer Furnace Co., Millville, N. J. Homer Furnace Co., 1708 Walnut St., Kansas City, Mo. Warehouses = > FI + ee YY YW yf” Uy Vt} F7Or January 28,1922 Meet Mr. Strong inventor of the pipeless furnace ~ Mr. Samuel D. Strong, of Coldwater, Michigan, inventor of the pipeless furnace, is a man well worth knowing—a man whose name will go down as one who rendered a very real service to humanity —the man who freed hundreds of thousands of homes from the drudgery of caring for stoves and made “‘hugging the base burner and the cook stove”’ only an unpleasant memory. In 1909, with his own hands, he built the first pipeless furnace in his little shop, which later grew to be the Homer Furnace Company, of which he is today president. In hundreds of thousands of American Homes, the purchase of a pipeless furnace will be decided on this year. So, it is importamt to know which is the original patented pipeless furnace. Other manufacturers have followed Mr. Strong in this field. But the Homer Pipeless Furnace retains many marked advantages, designed and patented by Mr. Strong, which others can not copy For example, there is the Thermo-Seal Inner Lining. It is the feature which prevents the radiation of heat from the inner chamber, forcing heated, moistened air to circulate freely into every nook and corner of the house—eliminating cold spots and corners, and saving a surprising amount of fuel. Then there are the heat and rust resisting Strokel Iron Castings, which make Homer Pipeless Furnaces last a lifetime, and the extra heavy firepot, scientifically designed to conserve coal. There is a Homer dealer near you, who will be glad to not only show you these features, but who will act as your heating engineer—who will install a furnace—correct in design, size and installation to heat your home perfectly, and at the lowest possible expense. - We have written the “History of the Pipeless Furnace,’ beginning with Mr. Strong’s early experiments, into an interesting book. Write today for this book and name of your nearest Homer dealer. HOMER FURNACE COMPANY, Coldwater, Mich. thy tented, FURNACE w WN Vs Ut tht Origina Yn P|1 PEL (hy y | ES

Page 79

os } } } { a (Continued from Page 75) you begin to have the great savings which I outlined toward the beginning of this article, and these were only predicated upon the use of coal in the power houses which become quite naturally part and parcel of any scheme of electrification. Consider the Milwaukee’s important ex- periment in somewhat greater detail. It has been loath to give out exact figures as to its savings in dollars and cents by its electric installation until a number of years of operation should determine these beyond a point of quibbling or of argumert. Some of its economies are quite obvious, however. I am not going into the remark- able system of regenerative braking, under which in the course of a year some 60 per cent of the current taken from the over- head trolley wire by the road’s electric locomotives is returned to that thread of copper by the seemingly simple expedient of turning the locomotive’s motor into a dynamo momentarily and so utilizing the ancient force of gravity upon a descending mountain grade actually to turn out elec- tric current and return it to the unseen treasury through that connecting medium of a copper wire. It is enough to say that a 60 per cent return of current is an appreci- able amount. These things have been told. But there has not been told publicly before this time a comparison of operating costs between the Missoula division —half the Harlowton- Avery electrified section of the Milwau- kee—and an adjacent mountain division which in 1918 and 1919 was not electrified, and which, moreover, is not subjected to the extremely hard winters of the Mis- soula range. The cost of locomotive re- pairs for 1918 and 1919 on this steam division was two and one-third times as great as upon the electric, due in no small degree to the fact that the electric loco- motive handles heavier trains and at higher speed than the steam, yet notwithstanding this increased capacity has a much lower maintenance cost per mile run. The cost of train crews was nearly two and a half times greater on the steam division than upon the electric, also because of the greater train tonnage and speed under electric operation. The expense for en- ginemen for similar reasons was 55 to 60 per cent greater on the steam operation. It is easy enough to talk in generalities; much harder sometimes to come to the brass tacks of a situation. It is a sort of brass tack, isn’t it, when on this steam division of the Milwaukee the engine- house expense was two and a half times greater than upon the electric—and for reasons that we have already seen? We do not need the exact dollars and cents of saving when these comparisons are placed before us. Practical Comparisons Neither do we need exact dollars and cents when we come East to the important electrification of the coal-carrying Norfolk & Western through the Blue Ridge Moun- tains of West Virginia, a tremendously busy thirty-mile stretch of line over which there constantly moves a vast tonnage of bituminous. Conditions here are consider- ably different from those upon the Mil- waukee, yet the results that are being attained are largely the same. Upon the N. & W. huge trains of 100-ton steel cars 3250 tons to the train—which formerly required three big steam Mallets—are now being hauled by two articulated electric locomotives, and at twice their former speed. Focus your attention upon this last statement, and then remember what we were saying about the necessity of traffic understanding that motor cars must be kept moving constantly and uniformly through the busiest streets of our metro- politan cities. It is not any more necessary to the understanding of the real economics of railroad electrification to know that the Norfolk & Western has made twelve double electric locomotives do the work of thirty- three steam Mallets than it is to know that those great mountain-climbing trains are moving at the rate of fourteen miles an hour instead of but seven, as formerly. Here is speed, but speed expressed in a double dimension; speed compounded, if you choose to put it that way. Take such speed—such flow of traffic and apply it to our overburdened trunk lines of the Northeast, to cite the most definite instance and necessity. Suppose that no more main-line tracks can be laid upon the railroads east from Chicago and THE SATURDAY St. Louis, north from Washington and Cincinnati; no more expensive notching in the mountains that hem in Pittsburgh or fresh expenditures in Buffalo; but a far quickened movement of freight can be ob- tained over existing rails. Here then is a double economy, effected not alone in the use of fuel—still leaving the water-power solution in abeyance—-but in a greatly bettered use of existing terminals and trackage. If our railroads can save $750,- 000,000 a year by burning their coal and oil in central power stations instead of in locomotive fire boxes it may be fair to say that the terminal economies that might be effected by increasing the existing facilities from 40 to 50 per cent without physical enlargement would equal the first saving When the shoe begins to pinch there is many and many a way of relieving it. There are railroaders—and shrewd rail roaders, too—who will not chime in. rap- idly. Here is one of them in the Far West, a mighty operating executive schooled years ago by one of the half dozen real cap tains of the industry. He feels the need of a great relief to the traffic pressure upon his own great system, the need of asmoother movement of the traffic upon its rails “The game,” he says, ‘is simplicity it self. It is to take the friction out of the pipe and at the same time increase the pressure.”” Which in his case means a combination of more freight cars, or better loading of the existing equipment, and more second or double tracks across the long reaches of the West Yet when I suggest electrification as a method for the removal of pipe fri tion he shakes his head sadly A Game Worth the Candle “My old chief,” he begins, his loyalty showing in his very phrasing, ‘‘once thought as you now think. He was anxious to install electric motive power upon the stiff grades of our mountain division. He had reports made upon the possibility of the thing from three very separate sources the two big electrical-equipment companies and our own fairly expert corps of e1 gineers. There was little variance between the reports of these different interests. Al most uniformly they figured the cost of the job at a little more than $10,000,000, or at that time about $550,000 annual interest. A fuel bill on the volume of traffic that we then had of about $300,000 would be saved That sort of a saving did not appeal to me. I told the chief so.” I asked this big railroader how about that mountain division of his to-day, with its traffic greatly increased and its fuel bill more than doubled. He replied by saying that not only had the cost of electrical equipment—locomotives, per wire, all the rest of it—doubled or more than doubled, but the interest cost of get- ting money had increased all the way from 25 to 33 per cent; and so the wide margin of more than a decade ago had not nar- rowed perceptibly. I have laid this point down here because it is most fair and most germane. Unque tionably that paper saving of all the way from $1,500,000,000 to $2,000,000,000 year that we have just seen would be greatly cut down by the increase in cost of electrical equipment and of the interest on the money that would go to buy it; but to-day the margin upon the electrification side of the argument is growing wider day by day, while, as we go East and the congestion problem upon our railroads in- creases, the margin in favor of electrical operation also increases. Granted that the costs of electrification are indeed vast, wit! dynamo units running all the way from $1,000,000 to $5,000,000, with locomo- tives at $175,000 and upward apiece, all the other accessories in proportion, the game is indeed worth the candle. Nor is it always necessary to buy loco motives at the rate of four or even five for $1,000,000, with interest rates at 8 per cent or thereabouts when a railroad can borrow at all. There is many and many a short cut toward electrification. Take New England, for instance. Up in that extreme northeastern corner of this land the railroad shoe already has begun to pinch very hard indeed. With a few exceptions ‘the railroads there are bank rupt, or practically so; and yet their eco nomic need and opportunity in electrical installation was never greater than it is at this very moment. If you don’t believ this bald statement imagine yourself thé president of that long-time prosperous littl dynamos, cop- | EVENING POST 77 Penic vray made by the makers of a@ brer Rabbit i Molasses , = a Penick Svrup Svru Pp ai ae, m1 on! HE same skilled experience has perfected this syrup that brought back—in Brer Rabbit Molasses and syrups—the long lost plantation flavor. It is a syrup that is a perfect blend of corn and sugar cane products. A mellow delicate syrup. A syrup so finely flavored that it brings out all the goodness of the foods it is used with. This is what is offered you today in Penick Syrup Griddle cakes and waffles with Penick Syrup have a goodness they never had before. It gives anew body and flavor to your favorite puddings, pies and cake Your grocer carries Penick Syrup in three deli cious flavors-—-Golden, Crystal White and Maple DELICIOUS RECIPES FREE. Send for this folder of new suggestions for desserts and candies to be made with Penick Syrup. Address Penick & Ford, Ltd., New Orlear La., or Cedar Rapids, lowa Brer Rabbit Molasses has the old plantation flavor For free copy of Brer Rabbit Recipe Book of Souther dishes, address Penick ®&® Ford Ltd > New Orleans, La.

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78 | EASY TO | SELL Mr. La Rocco Sells to a Three out of Five of the People He Interviews CHARLES LA ROCCO, Massachusetts Mr. La Rocco began selling The Saturday Evening Post, The Ladies’ Home Journal and The Country Gentleman in his spare hours to earn money to pay for an education. He is very much pleased with his new work, which has brought him generous returns from the start. In his very first week he wrote more than 20 orders. He works solely among strangers, yet he finds the popularity of the Curtis publications so great that he sells to three out of five of the people he interviews. 9 P We've a Splendid Opening for You Mr. La Rocco had no experience when he began this work—he found that he needed none to make big profits. And you need no experience to enjoy the same opportunity. Just send the cou- pon below—it involves no obli- gation—and we will tell you all about our plan for making your spare hours profitable to you. Literature, supplies, a special salesmanship course, personal as- sistance are all offered FREE to new workers. THE CURTIS PUBLISHING CO., 154 Independence Square, *hiladelphia, Penna Gentlemen: Pleuse tell me, with- out obligation, how I can easily earn extra money by your plan. Name Address City State THE SATURDAY | railroad down in Maine and your purchas- ing agent coming in and telling you that he has just paid twenty-seven dollars a ton for tender coal for your locomotives—and Maine richer in undeveloped water power than almost any other state in the Union! New England needs electrification of her steam railroads, and needs it at once. It is no new story to her. She began her | experimentation with this sort of develop- ment more than two decades ago, when the New Haven laid a third rail alongside its busy Bristol-New Britain-Hartford line and installed a frequent electric suburban service. That was the beginning, a begin- ning that led slowly but surely to over- head wire installations upon several other | branch lines of the New Haven system | and eventually to the elaborate work in connection with the New York Central’s electrification of the Grand Central Station in New York. This last embraced the | entire main line from Forty-second Street | and one of the most expensive. | steam one will cost $65,000, | Remember that through to New Haven. It now ends there. And when you talk electrification to one of the high officers of the road he will point to this particularly elaborate installa- tion and say: “‘Not on your life! We had your vision fifteen years ago, and we put in this pretty job. Where did it get us? Intodebt! It is one of the finest installations in the world, Though the increased capacity of the Grand Cen- tral Station from the operation of a two- level plan—a scheme utterly impossible under the use of steam as a motive power—undoubtedly justified the expendi- ture, the fact remains that, considered independently, our electric zone to-day does not return interest on its investment. Of two locomotives of equal capacity the i the electric $175,000. In addition to all this invest- ment in overhead, there is also the cost of its maintenance, and that is not small. Wire trains for immediate repairs as well as for maintenance must be in readiness day and night, with a variety of expert and expensive—workers. It all costs.” Elimination of Waste I know that it costs, Mister New Haven. But I also know that it takes but one-half the amount of coal to pull a train with an electric locomotive that it takes with a steam locomotive of the same capacity. the steam locomotive’s | voracious appetite for coal apparently is unending. It may stand idle and upon sidings for a half or a third of a working day, yet the fireman’s task at the fire-box door is unceasing, while if that fireman | be lacking in everyday efficiency the coal | has | stem. waste is increased, not lessened. For even if coal must drive a railroad, if that rail- road is driven from a central power station there is almost no inefficiency in firing there. The central station operates on hourly coal-record sheets and waste there is quickly detected. I have not had in mind, however, for immediate use in New England the sort of elaborate installation which the New Haven upon the western end of its main What I meant for that road, as well | as for sections of other lines up there, was | the same sort of comparatively simple | electrical construction that the New Haven | and Massachusetts. itself has operated for years on some of its isolated suburban lines in Connecticut I meant, instead of heavy steel passenger coaches of main-line standards of size and weight, propelled by expensive electric locomotives, electric mo- tor cars of comparatively small size and weight, self-contained and _ self-propelled and operated in trains of from one to twelve cars in accordance with the immedi- ate necessities of the traffic at hand. The New Haven’s field south of Boston, where its suburban service is at its very worst to- day, is particularly ripe for installation of that sort. We have returned to our little local | passenger train, one at least similar to that with which we began this article. It is a phase of the larger problem not for an in- stant to be neglected or overlooked. In its terminal relationship alone it has vast possibilities—under electric unit-car op- eration. Few of our big city passenger terminals but what are badly overcrowded at this moment, even some which have been built within the past ten or a dozen years. To handle a steam-hauled local train in and out of the shed of one of these big stub-end terminals means not less than EVENING POST eight separate moves through the big yards that lie just without, each attended with more or less trouble or delay. A train of electric single-unit cars does the same trick in two moves, while the valuable track and platform space occupied by the locomotive may be given to two or even more passenger-carrying cars. The econ- omy once again multiplies. Come back, if you will, with me to Bos- ton; not alone because it is Boston, but because it is so typical of similar conditions in our other metropolitan cities across the land. To the Boston & Maine the zone of the suburban lines from the North Station out to Salem and Gloucester and up to Newburyport and Portsmouth offer simi- lar immediate opportunity to that of the New Haven’s territory. Here are lines on which a minimum of through traffic is being routed to-day, and most of that could, if necessary, be taken off and placed on the more direct main line of the original Boston & Maine, just to the west and lead- ing direct through to Portland and the north. They thread the territory where the interurban lines are now dying most rap- idly and are being totally abandoned, all to great public inconvenience. The abandonment of the interurbans offers to the railroads of New England a great constructive path. Much of the branch-line mileage with which they are blessed—or cursed—can have their freight and remaining passenger traffic correlated with that of intcrurban trolley lines already abandoned or certain to be. One blade of grass where two were foolishly made to grow can do the work of two, efficiently and at probable eventual profit. The New England lines are this very day short, woefully short, of steam locomotives. Yet the immediate installation of electric overhead wires upon some of their con- gested branches would within a short space of time release dozens of locomotives, which if not efficient for the movement of long or heavy freights could move shorter ones. After which could come the heavier in- stallations. “All right, say, for Berkshire County, Massachusetts,”’ you interrupt. “‘But how about the southeastern corner of New England? Haven't the rivers down there all the load they can carry?” Granted. I indulge in no such wild day- dreams as that of all the railroad trackage of Southern New England being operated by water-generated electric power. There is a better plan in view. Before me lies the rough prospectus of the superpower plan of the Northeast Atlantic seaboard, for the surveys of which Congress has al- ready made generous appropriations. Ina word, this plan provides that in a great congested industrial area consisting of Mas- sachusetts, Connecticut, Rhode Island, Southeastern New York, Eastern Pennsyl- vania and portions of New Jersey and of Maryland, a present usage of 17,000,000 horse power—divided into 10,000,000 for industrial purposes and 7,000,000 for rail- road—shall be fully met by the establish- ment of central power plants at the mine heads of Pennsylvania and West Virginia, with a capacity of but 5,500,000 horse power, and yet by efficiency fully meeting the present needs for 17,000,000. Possible Coal Saving This plan, so sweeping as to be all but staggering to the imagination, and yet sponsored by the shrewdest and most far- seeing of American engineers, is based primarily upon the consumption of coal at the mines rather than in distant factory engine rooms, centra! power stations or under locomotive boilers. It is estimated that it can be operated at a saving of at least 30,000,000 tons of coal each year to the industries and railroads of the district which it embraces, or, at a modest average of eight dollars per ton of coal, $240,000,000 a year to commercial America. Shimmery copper wires will carry silently and con- tinuously what will amount to at least one- half of the coal tonnage now carried by the railroads for power and lighting purposes. A copper wire knows neither snow block- ade nor traffic congestion, and railroad experts estimate the superpower plan as a saving of another $150,000,000 annually in coal freights. A total of more than $1,000,000 a day saved in just one corner of American industry is not to be sneezed at, even in these days when we talk so easily and carelessly in billions. For in this great economy the railroads Pennsylvania, of Eastern New York, January 28, 1922 Maryland, Southern New England and Northern New Jersey may easilyshare. And in the case of New England it so happevis that the superpower plan, which is now seemingly certain of eventual execution, embraces just that section of the territory where there is the least surplus of water power. The rough, wild rivers of the North—of Maine, of New Hampshire and of Vermont—can and yet will operate almost all the mileage of the railroads of those states, and the distant mines of the Pennsylvania and West Virginia hills will operate the lines of the rest of New England. That such a development will bring eventual economies-——vast economies—one can have nodoubt. The New Haven forthe nonce may be failing to make a profit on its elaborately electrified main line, to the power stations of which it must fetch coal a long way and over congested rail routes. But with that unseen power stretched farther and farther upon its lines I have no doubt that adequate transportation serv- ice—freight and passenger—can again be given to the communities which it serves. What is true of the New Haven is equally true of the Boston & Albany, the Boston & Maine and the other railroads of the New England area—railroads of real inherent strength despite the great abuses which they have suffered. And what is true of all these railroads of New England is, of course, true of the railroads elsewhere within the nation; and trueeven if the economy be but the one of coal or oil consumption in a cen tral power station; far more true, of course, if water-developed electricity be found available. For notwithstanding the great development of our water powers that has been made in the last fifteen or twenty years the experts of the Geological Survey down in Washington say that the unde- veloped water power of the United States is still approximately 54,000,000 horse power. Much of this is, of course, in the West and the Far West, where there is as yet but little traffic congestion upon the railroads. In such cases the gasoline unit cars are ofttimes the best solution of the problem of the local passenger service. Europe Not Asleep No matter from what angle one may view them, the possibilities of a far wider extension of electric motive power to our railroads are fascinating indeed. Nor are they in this day and age to be regarded as particularly radical or re yulutionary , new cr untried. Other lands have both followed and preceded us. These other lands are not asleep to-day. Despite the terribly crippled condition of Europe to-day, elaborate plans are being made over there, particularly in France and in Switzerland. It is now planned to electrify at least 6000 miles of the 26,500 miles of French railway. A single system, the Paris-Orleans, has made definite prepa rations for bringing this power, the most of it water-generated, to more than half its mileage, some 3250 miles all told, while in Switzerland work is rapidly under way for transforming the entire federal system of railways, approximately 1900 miles, from steam toelectrie power. Itis to beahugejob, the cost of which is roughly estimated at $200,000,000. Little Switzerland shows great pluck in even tackling it. But when you ask the managers of their railways why they are undertaking it they shrug their shoulders and smile and reply, ‘Think of the economies that it will bring us!” Think of the economies that it will bring us—us Americans! If a thing is good for a little republic overseas with but 3300 miles of rail trackage all told, how much better must it be for the big republic, with 275,000 miles of line. Have the French or the Swiss railroaders more vision than we Americans? I should hate to say that, particularly in the face of such a develop- ment as that of the Milwaukee, to say nothing of our great terminals in New York, in Philadelphia and elsewhere. Have they more funds with which to tinker and to experiment? Of course not. We have the vision. We have the money. We simply need the correlating force that will join the two to the immediate relief of our sadly wobbling railroad situation. Such a force would be big business in the truest and the finest sense of the word. It would be something more; it would be statesmanship—railroad statesmanship, if you please—railroad statesmanship of the sort that Harriman and Hill typified in a bygone day and of which we stand so sorely in need to-day. 4 { , \ } ( eg - a

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{ } | | | The house, which had utterly forgotten the unimportant man up stage, burst into a chorus of laughter which brought down the curtain on the unhappy Adelaide. When the McCullough Club announced Mrs. Waldron’s Bachelors the attorneys for the Robson and Crane enterprise en- deavored to enjoin the performance legally, but the amateurs won out. Another at- tempted injunction was when the club put on Esmeralda, by Mrs. Burnett and Wil- liam Gillette. This they had rehearsed from the published text of the play in the Century Magazine. Our present copyright law was not in existence then. Legal action taken to protect a play was based upon property right under the common law, but the courts were reluctant to say that plays printed in magazines had not been printed subject to any use that any buyer might care to make of them. In both of these unauthorized performances I had the lead ing part. Esmeralda was played by the club only a few weeks before the regular Madison Square Company came to St. Louis with the drama. One of the local papers, the Spectator, in criticizing the professional company, said that the performance of old man Rogers by Mr. John E. Owens had not been so good as that of the same part by Mr. Thomas of the amateurs. John E. Owens, the famous Solon Shingle, was one of the foremost comedians of the country, and this treatment of him was not to be tolerated by the management. A contro- versy ensued which lasted while the com- pany was there, and was then forgotten. I rather egotistically make a note of it be- cause years later it was the basis of a pretty act of generosity on the part of Mr. Owens. From Blackstone to Box Office A moving spirit in the MeCullough Club—in ics organization, its management and in its active expression—was Wayman McCreery, now dead. I am sure that ten thousand of his surviving contemporaries in the city of St. Louis will remember Way- man McCreery. Few men are so physically ind intellectually equipped as he was. There was nothing that an athlete could do with his body that in a notable degree Wayman McCreery could not do. He was boxer, wrestler, fencer, runner and swim- mer, and all-round athlete. In addition to these he was a graceful step dancer. In- tellectually he was equipped with a college training and had an interest in every- thing that interested the intelligent people of his day. He sang well enough to be a leading tenor in a fashionable choir. He wrote music of good quality. He was the author of the opera L’Afrique, which was first done by amateurs in St. Louis and subsey"iently produced in New York, al though with not very great success, by Jesse Williams. McCreery will be remembered by the sporting world as the inventor of the three-cushion game of billiards, of which he was at one time the national champ ion. As Hugh Chalcot in Robert- son’s comedy Ours it would have taken a professional to equal him. Another part of McCreery’s was Captain Hawtree in Caste, by the same author. The Colby children, like all young- sters, were attracted by such knowledge of the world behind the curtain as our home talk developed and as an occasional peep behind scenes would emphasize. As is commonly the case also the little girl’s interest was the greater. One day she brought to me a copy of St. Nicholas with Mrs. Burnett's story of Editha’s Burglar. “Don’t you think,” she asked, “that would make a pretty play?” With the addition of the dramatic ele- ment by having the burglar be the child’s father, it did make a pretty play, the first of mine to be done professionally and to be produced in Siow York. Theatricals, amateur and semiprofes- sional, gradually claimed more and more attention, so that when I finally told Mr. Colby that I thought the cast in the law books was too short, that noth- ing could be done with John Doe and Richard Roe, and that the love interest was entirely lacking, he made no ob- jection to my accepting the offer of Mr Charles R. Pope to go into the box office of his new theater. Charles R. Pope had been a partner with Mr. Charles Spalding in the ownership of THE SATURDAY THE PRINT OF MY REMEMBRANC (Continued from Page 19) Example of Woodcut Imitating Pencil Drawing of Freddie Gebhard the old Olympic. The men had separated for some reason, and Mr. Pope had built Pope’s Theater on the site of the late Cen- tury Theater in St. Louis. Pope’s Theater was rather economically constructed by making a playhouse out of a church that stood there. Mr. Pope was without capital; he financed his enterprise by the issuance of a number of subscribers’ tickets which admitted the holders to two performances a week at a reduced rate. These tickets were not unlike the old-time commutation tick- ets on a railroad, with margins of serial numbers to be punched as the tickets were used. Visiting companies objected to this bargain-counter finance, and these tickets were the occasion of endless trouble. Before managing the Olympic with Spald- ing, Charles Pope had been a tragedian of considerable prominence, especially in the West. He was a man of heroic figure, stentorian voice and a method plainly founded on Edwin Forrest’s. At both the Olympic and Pope’s Theater he continued to appear when the opportunity offered or the emergency required. His wife was Margaret Macauley, a member of the well- known Kentucky family of that name. Her brother, Daniel Macauley, the senior of the family, had been a general in the Union Army and won distinction. A second brother, Barney Macauley, was one of the foremost actors of his day. A still younger brother was John, who Padre became the sole owner of Macauley’s Theater in Louisville, in which all the brothers had been jointly interested. Cartoon Drawn by Mr. Thomas for the St. Louis Post-Dispatch in 1880 EVENING POST Mr. Pope’s financial troubles in St. Louis were not confined to the commutation re- ductions which he was occasionally re- quired to make up, and the men in his box office had intimate acquaintance with the am inancial finesse then « tomary in theatri cal circle Then, as now, among bills paid by the resident manag were those of the billposter. Our St. Louis billposter was a rough, truculent, good hearted person named Cottré have stepped out of that n Treasure Island as far as who might ip of pirate ~ ape ce was concerned, and very often Pi wisher he would go back Beside his brist ing mustache and black beard, he had at d-fog voice that would have frightened any nursery. It was the duty of us mer at the window, when we saw Cottrell com- ing to collect his b lls. to flag the o er, who would then flat limself against the inner wall and stay out of sight. On one occasion, however, Cottre wa too quick for the maneuve and caught Mr Pope or an @arly afternoon wher a we knew — there was no money in the bank, none in the box office and no prospect for the eveni g C ottre l wanted |} t Pope’s histrionic training stood } stead Pushing the treasurer aside ne i ed on the box-office window 1 and aid ‘“*Where are those stands and three sheet Mr. Cottrell, for whose posting you are demanding payment?” Cottrell made the expected reply that they were on the billboards throughout the people are ar ines rur This metrical dictic ito which Pope in his blank-verse adriftted in his moments ted from ag mtg ee ¢ ) were there in the places Po id described “ A nce to see Shae “' ell, how car uu see ther “IT can see them by and buggy and driving Cottrell bellige rer tly agreed to do tl 18, and the trip was made. When the two men came back it was past bankir Pope proudly gave him a check th: at could not be offered for payment until an « vening had intervened, in which he could scout among his friends for cash. ou getting a horse > over the route.” g hours. Drawing on Boxwood As theater manager, the old tragediar not always in the best of health, made a galiant fight, not only against the burden of the cut-rate tickets he had discounted but against Spalding and Norton of the two competing houses, who combined against him. He finally won out and sold his theater at a profit on his time and troubk When Harrison was elected to the pre dency, Mr. Pope became our United States consul at Toronto, where his fine presence, his dignified bearing, his know] edge of modern languages and the bor homie of the old trouper made him as fine a national representative as we had at any European court. There was not always good business at Pope’s Theater. As in other play houses, we had idle times, when a man in the box office had little todo. In those days there was not in St. Louis any rapid- fire photo-engraving establishment Any pictures wanted quickly for a newspaper could be turned out more promptly by the local wood engravers, of whom there were several. Many otherwise idle hour in the box office I was able to occupy profitably on such occasional tra- tions. There are few occupations more fasci nating than to draw upon boxwood. This material, which comes in blocks type high and varying from the width of the newspaper | column to four or five, as de sired, is made of little s ctions, each not more than a square inch in size, doweled soiree Gate ere than marquetry i furniture is joined. Thesurface of this as sembled block is pumiced to a delightful smoothness, having enough grain, how ever, while i mpe reeptib ile to the touc nh, to take a pencil point without slipping. As it comes to the draftsman, it has the natural-wood color not unlike the tint of fre hly plar ed pine Over this one throws Continued on Page 84 This Book On Home Beautifying Sent Free ( = t ke l urtistic, ch ‘ la how y« " | n refit h | pw k, furnmite Building? 5. C. JOHNSON & SON, Dept. S.P.6, Racine, Wis “The Wood Finishing Authorities A.B Arment $100.00 in One Month is the amount we have often paid A. B Arment of Ohio and othe ibscriptior work for our three publications. Let u make 1a liberal cash offer for ir spare . ga Lif j Phe Curtis Publishing Company |/ 460 Independence Square, Philadetphia, Pa SUNS eNNMINN RENE DEIVENL 81H cveenaenvenscneenasnnny PENBERTHY WASHING MACHINE DRAINER | | | PENBERTHY INJEC TOR co 1242 Holden Ave Detro#t, U.S. A } P for I THE LIGHTNING CALCULATOR CO. Grand Rapils, Mich PLANT HARRIS’ SEEDS { Coldwater, N.Y JOS. HARRIS CO., LARGE AGENTS for: GOLD SIGN LETTERS “ Drawer E, I fi & METALLIC LETTER CO., 4331 N. Clerk, Chicago \1A77 PIN? AND RING? THE DL AULD CO. COLUMBUS SOHC DATE NTS. RITE. ! RI etait INVENTION BLANK f Victor J. tee & Co., 727 Ninth, Washington, D.C. ATENTS BOOKLET FREE ‘ HIGHEST REFERENCE BEST RESULTS PROMPTNI ASSURED Watson E. Coleman, Patent Lawyer, 624 F St.,Washington D.( PLAYS ( Arateure: DRAMATIC ' PUBLISHING CO 2 Deart CHICAG RAG JAz2! n ools, 22 E. Jack k BERVICE—ECONOMY Ant te— Bitumiscus for Mar K re HADDOCK FUEL “CORP Wilkes-Barre, Pa Dand ‘ ( Dandy proposition selling Chewing SIE UD THE HELMET GUM FACTORY, Cin.,O

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82 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST January 28,1922 ‘Taking Industry out of the Shadow of the Pen-

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Where books are kept by PEN, there you will find business “under a shadow.’’ T 1E Shadow of the Pen darkens the desks of the Executives. It falls across the machinery and the counters. It creeps into the Credit Department, the Purchasing Office, the Shipping Room. Everywhere, it slows up work and causes errors. And the Shadow—the cause of waste, uncertainty and delay—must remain over the business until antiquated accounting methods are banished and books kept by machine. What the Underwood Bookkeeping Machine is doing for Industry HE Underwood Bookkeeping Machine stands in the same re- lation to accounting as the Under- wood Typewriter to hand-written business correspondence. It modern- izes. It standardizes, It cuts costs. On request,we will send to executives our booklet “Taking Industry out of the Shadow of the Per.”’ NDERWOOD Bookkeeping MACHINE Modern business recognizes that the adequate control of such factors as sales, production, costs, depends on accurate, up-to-the-minute figures. The Underwood Bookkeeping Machine makes such figures avail- able with a certainty impossible where books are kept by PEN. Underwood-kept books keep pace with the business ACH day’s accounting is com- pleted at the end of that day. The books are kept in perpetual balance. When consulted they give depend- able facts as they are, not treach- erous facts as they were. An Underwood representative, trained in the solution of accounting problems, will gladly give details. Write to UNDERWOOD TYPEWRITER CO., Ine. Underwood Building, New York Branches in all principal cities

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SALAD / DESSERT THE SATURDAY BEVERAGE POTATOES | ERS Every meal robbed— How science has revolutionized the selection of the foods we eat VERY year thousands of men and women still young die of old-age diseases. Faulty habits of eat - ing deprived them of the food factors necessary to build up health and main- tain resistance to disease. It is our daily food which must supply naturally and permanently the constant needs of the body—the building up of body tissues and the eliminating of waste matter. Yet many American meals lack just the elements that supply these two great needs. Because of this startling lack in our meals, we run down in health, our system becomes clogged, and we lose our resistance to disease. Millions are securing these essentials from a familiar food Today millions are securing these needed food essentials by adding Fieischmann’s Yeast to their regular diet. For yeast is the richest known source of the new found vitamin which is lacking in many of our foods. Millions find that Fleischmann’s Yeast is stimulating their digestion, building up their body tissues and keeping them more resistant todisease. In addition, they find that, be- cause of certain properties in fresh yeast quite unassociated with its vitamin content, Fleischmann’s Yeast helps their daily elimination of poisonous waste matter. As a result they are feeling a vigor and strength they had not known for years. Laxatives gradually replaced Skin disorders cleared up Fleischmann’s Yeast is a food, not amedicine. It is not a laxative, but it gradually replaces laxatives. Being a food, it is better suited to the stomach and intestines than laxatives. In tested cases, it has restored normal func- tions in from 3 days to 5 weeks. Fleischmann’s Yeast has also yielded re- markable results in clearing up disorders of the skin. Many physicians and hospitals are prescribing it forsmpuritiesoftheskin. Inone series of experiments, forty-one out of forty - two such cases were improved or cured, in some instances in a remarkably short time. Begin today to add Fleischmann’s Yeast to your regular meals. Eat 2 to 3 cakes a day before or between meals. Place a standing order with your grocer and get it fresh daily. Send for free booklet telling the fascinating story of The New Importance of Yeast in Diet— what it has done for others-——what it can do for you. Address THE FLEISCHMANN COMPANY, Dept. 602, 701 Washington St., New York, N. Y. FLEISCHMANN’S YEAST IS A CORRECTIVE FOOD | Yeast. Avoid the use of so-called yeast preparations. Many of these contain only a small amount of yeast—as little as one-tenth of a yeast cake—mixed with drugs and medi- cines. The familiar tin-foil package with the yellow label is the only form in which you can get Fleischmann’s Yeast for Health. Be sure it’s Fleischmann’s fresh Do not be misled by yeast-substitutes. EVENING POST (Continued from Page 81) a light wash of water-color white. The sur- face then is good for either pencil or brush. When one has finished his drawing by either of these methods, the wood engraver cuts out all the portions of the block that are meant to be white in the reproduction that is to say, meant not to print at all and leaves the rest. If he left the rest unchanged, however, it would print a solid black silhouette. The engraver’s skill lies in so breaking this surface as to get by the use of alternating black and white lines the various shades the artist intended. The | simplest understanding of this will be by | considering an outline drawing only, but | not black. story. done in pencil, which of course is gray and If the engraver left this line unbroken it would print black, however, and resemble a pen stroke and not the mark of a pencil. But wishing to give the pencil effect he traverses the line on his block with a sufficient number of tiny cut- out spaces to get resemblance to the pencil mark. As an example of a pencil drawing upon a piece of boxwood so treated that the gray reproduction resembles the pencil, there is given on Page 81 an outline cut that has a At the time of which I am talking there was a young man in New York named Freddie Gebhard, who came into sudden prominence through his admiration for | and attentions to a world-renowned actress then visiting America. As I remember, Mr. Gebhard’s enthusiasm did not have the | approval of his father, and nearly all the newspapers felt distressed about it. De- spite these solicitudes Mr. Gebhard joined the lady in her various professional engage- ments throughout the country. The people called him a dude. Few of us now remember what were the distinguishing characteristics of a dude forty years ago when the name was adopted. The principal ones were that he should wear very tight trousers, a black cutaway coat, the beetle tails of which protruded some six inches below a short tan-colored box-cloth overcoat of very easy dimensions. Besides these sartorial marks, a dude was supposed to be somewhat of a sapling and lacking in manly fiber. A morning paper in St. Louis had on its editorial staff at that time a man named Cunningham, reputed to be a person of physical courage and a dangerous man to provoke. Some of the things that Mr. Cunningham wrote about Mr. Gebhard’s St. Louis visit displeased that gentleman. Gebhard inquired concerning the writer, learned his name and reputation, and then, before a considerable group of spectators one evening just after dinner in the corridor of the Southern Hotel, walked up to Mr. Cunningham and very soundly slapped his face. Something in the way in which he did this convinced the observers that it had been intentional and premeditated and had respectable force of character behind it. Nothing was done about it except some extended reports by the rival papers. The Art of Timothy Cole Mr. Gebhard stepped into a kind of public respect. It was not possible to get pictures of him. He didn’t want notoriety. As the story above would indicate, he rather resented it. A weekly paper in the city asked me to get a drawing of him from memory. It wasn’t a good plan to ask him to pose. It was learned that Mr. Gebhard had for the week a certain seat three rows from the orchestra rail which he occupied every night his friend, the actress, played. This seat was on the right aisle of ‘the parquet near the trap drummer. By an arrangement with that member of the orchestra I got a chair ia his corner from which I could see Mr. Gebhard, and in that manner this pencil drawing was made. It is offered now as a point d'appui for this story, and as an example of a wood engraver’s line that looks like lead pencil. A really fine wood engraver is an artist of a very superior type, excelling in real technical knowledge his brothers of the brush or chisel; but he is becoming in- creasingly rare as the photographic and autographic processes of illustration drive his work from the magazines and papers. Fifty years ago, when Blanchard Jerrold, son of Douglas Jerrold, wrote his London Pilgrimage, in 1872, and Gustave Doré illustrated it so splendidly, there were three or four wood engravers working upon the illustrations whose production deserved and gained as much if not more praise than the work of Doré himself. January 28,1922 The last of the great American wood engravers is the veteran Timothy Cole, now living at Poughkeepsie, New York, and in his seventieth year still working impor- tantly at his profession. The superlative skill of Timothy Cole won for him member- ship in the American Academy of Arts and Letters. The best collected records we have of the old masters of Italy, Holland, England, Spain and France are his wood en- gravings, for which he has had gold medals at the Paris, Chicago and St. Louis expo- sitions. It would be impossible on the printing presses that run off our great weekly and daily editions, going into the hundred thousands in one issue, to show the finest example of a wood engraver’s art. Such pictures, delicately printed on Japa- nese paper, and properly mounted, enrich the collections of connoisseurs. The most simplified process of reproduc- tion available to draftsmen of St. Louis became common about this time. It em- ployed paper overlaid with starch in so- lution. The paper was toothed or pebbled to take the mark of the greasy litho- graphic crayon. A drawing made upon it was turned face downward upon a litho- graphic stone and passed beneath a hot roller under considerable pressure. The heat and pressure transferred the greasy crayon to the lithographic stone, which was then used as if the drawing had been made directly upon it, and produced the ordinary lithograph with but a slight loss of value from the drawing made upon the paper. This process was used in the production of the cartoon of which a reduction is shown on Page 81. The Pulitzer Cartoon There are two or three interesting facts connected with this cartoon. To the best of my belief it was the first political cartoon printed in St. Louis of Mr. Joseph Pulitzer, the eminent publisher and organizer of the present New York World. Pulitzer, in 1880, the date of this cartoon, had not yet purchased the old New York World, and had but recently acquired the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, of which he was proprietor and editor. He and others in St. Louis were joining in an attack begun by Major Emery S. Foster, editor and proprietor of the St. Louis World, against a political conspiracy known as the Dark-Lantern Ring, engaged in the sale of political nominations. The directing mind of this conspiracy was said to be a politician named Lan- caster. He was assisted by an aggressive little attorney on Frank Turner and a blacksmith named Edward Butler, who was at the head of the political machine. Lancaster, Turner and Butler are in the front row of the cartoon in the order named, and Butler is pictured as knock- ing out of the ring State Senator Cable, one of the beneficiaries of their combination, who had indiscreetly talked too much about it. Outside of the ring and looking in are depicted Col. William Hyde, then editor of the St. Louis Republican; and Mr. Joseph Pulitzer, who with Colonel Hyde was endeavoring to correct the corrupt conditions. Major Emery S. Foster, who had won distinction in the Northern Army, was a modest but very notable figure in St. Louis. In the Civil War he had been captured by Quantrell’s Guerrillas and was said to be the only Union prisoner released by this band, who made a practice of giving no quarter. His own escape was due to one of those border romances which the public are apt to think inventions of the novelist and the playwright, and a fine example of which was interwoven in Mr. William Gillette’s war play, Held by the Enemy. In the Quantrell group of James boys and Younger brothers was one man who knew the captured Foster, as he and Foster were rivals for the hand of the same girl. With her in mind, this Quantrell guerrilla had asked for the life of Foster, and being granted this by Quantrell had conducted Major Foster outside the lines and given him his liberty. This particular Southerner still lives; and the lady in question, now his wife, is also living. Major Foster, at the close of the war, became the editor of the St. Louis Journal. A very personal editorial attacking him appeared one morning in the St. Louis Times, of which ex-Confederate Major John Edwards was the editor. Foster im- mediately challenged Edwards, and the (Continued on Page 86) Ee { { ¢ { t

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Ara 4 NLAPT RAT AP AP TARSAPT APTANA DT ODT ADT ODS AIT APS APTN, aes Se I | The Western Electric te IS SN RAR RRR RON Where your Bell telephone came from It is forty-tive years since a handful of a day, men began making history and telephon RP TAP IAP AP API APTALT APS ABT AATARTARTAPT APIA LT OTA on the top floor of the me dest building at as re ught with it the right. ore accurateequipment, which this ¢ Today a plant whic h covers 200 acres and any been able to upply only because employs 38,000 peopl is needed to meet its constant touch with the problem 7 I the demands of your telephone ser VICE le ory otf Western Klect The Western Electric works at Chicago Kpe ] i¢ phor eee now produces more than 2500 tele phone VARTA APART ARTARTERY ORY — Since 1869 Makers of Electrical Boutilier

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86 Welsbach. SEMI-INDIRECT GAS LIG ( i #19) i ri han f fin - fure it You Gas Compa i / i ' S/] ttho you. A litt tail f na? nportant an / preleres eg fea furCS THE SATURDAY EVENING POST HTING FIXTURE When the time comes to choose a lighting fixture, either for the new home, or, as probably you have often considered doing, to replace old fixtures, make lasting satisfaction to the whole family. The new No. 1824 Welsbach Semi-Indirect Lighting Fixture, with its distinctive shape and gn, harmonizes perfectly with your choice a source of appreciation and attractive color ce any setting. Possessing an enduring beauty, you than a mere source of evening light,. but rather as an integral will come to consider it as more and indispensable part of your home furnishings. of charm and rich by night, By day you will enjoy the air ness it gives to the room that sense of e comfort that only Welsbach Fixture pleasant relaxation and true ey incandescent gas light from a can give. Such light as perhaps you have never enjoyed light that floods the entire room with a light that shadows, nor has the slightest before; steady, perfectly diffused brilliance; casts no black and rugs light that comfort and economy cannot be ap- glare: light that gives to the curtains and pictures their true daytime colors; for quality, proached. WELSBACH COMPANY GLOUCESTER, N. J. Member American Gas Axssociat A source of more than perfect light (Continued from Page 84) two men met upon the Illinois side of the Mississippi, some few miles above St. Louis. At the first shot Edwards’ bullet went wild; Foster’s bullet went through Ed- wards’ hat, grazing his scalp. While the seconds were reloading the pistols Foster walked over to Edwards and put out his hand, saying, ‘Edwards, you and I are a pair of damn fools.” Edwards conducted Foster to a log near | by, sat down with him, and then told Fos- ter that he had nothing whatever to do with the editorial; that he had gone home and was in his bed when Stilson Hutchins, the proprietor, himself had come into the office and written the objectionable pub- lication. Edwards, however, true to the ethics of the time, had accepted the re- sponsibility of his chief. Another group of readers will remember Major Foster as the man who in that same St. Louis Journal first made and repeated the charges that led to the exposé of what was known as the Whisky Ring, in Grant’s Administration. That was not a band of bootleggers engaged as now in supplying | a thirsty community, but was a combina- tion contriving the evasion of the internal revenue tax upon spirits. In the prosecu- tion of that ring General Grant appointed as attorney ex-Senator John B. Henderson, previously referred to in connection with incidents at Jefferson City. As the investi- gation in court proceeded and involved Gen. Orville E. Babcock, who was the Presi- dent’s private secretary, Henderson, boast- ing indifference to where the investigation led, said that he was not among those “to bend the pregnant hinges of the knee that thrift may follow fawning.” Over his implied defiance Grant had promptly re- moved Mr. Henderson from his position, and General Babcock, on a deposition from President Grant, was acquitted. At the time I was making these drawings for Major Foster in that campaign he was a soldierly looking figure in his early fifties. He had a fine face, good brow, clear-cut, aquiline nose, fine open eyes, perhaps ac- centuated slightly in their gaze, and sharp- ened slightly in appearance because of the gold-rimmed spectacles which he always wore. The lower part of his face indicated a substantial modeling beneath his short beard and mustache. He looked in every turn and expression the thoughtful, culti- vated, amiable gentleman that he was, with an ever-present suggestion of proper de- termination. Box Office Duties It is difficult for a reader to measure the happiness of a young man for whom the theater has been the objective when he finds himself ensconced in a quasi-administrative position in a genuine playhouse. As assist- ant treasurer it was my duty to open up the box office in the morning, to see that the billposter and his assistants received the paper which the advance man _ brought in his bill trunk; that the boys connected with the theater had their supply of hang- ers, lithographs and half sheets that were | to go into the windows of saloons, barber | shops and hotels; | always to see that the scrub women reported on time and were at work; to sort the mail for the visiting company and send that of the players to the stage door. These duties carried one all over the building after the treasurer arrived to re- lieve the assistant, and excuses might even be made for visiting and looking over the paint frame. Every theater at that time had its resident artist. His shop was in the fly gallery; his studio was a bridge at the back wall of the building, against which a movable frame carried his colossal can- vases up and down. This artist was ex- pected to get up each week the scenes for the coming attraction. It must not be supposed that he made a complete produc- tion in that time. He had at his command a more or less sufficient stock of scenery stored away in a room adjoining and accessible to the stage, with an opening between, high enough to admit the flat scenes riding upright; this storeroom was salled the dock. It properly contained the more usual scenes of the mid-Victorian drama; the parlor or center-door fancy, kitchen, baronial chamber, castle interior and exterior, pents flat, a street, a garden, a cut-wood, a forest and a horizon drop. To hold and change these scenes the stage was arranged with runs and grooves. These were sets of wooden guide tracks on the stage and adjustable grooves corresponding January 28,1922 some eighteen feet above, arranged in groups about four feet apart, beginning at the cur- tain line and numerically designated. Their terminology still governs in the theater. An actor entered or made his exit in One, Two, Three or Four, right or left, as the case might be, or up center. He still does so, although the grooves with their old sliding scenes that were pushed on to meet in the middle, and separated to be quickly drawn off for a change of scene, have dis- appeared. It was upon this customary stock of scen- ery that the scenic artist depended, supple- menting it from time to time with some new scene, of which sufficient warning would generally be given, painted upon new canvas and construction, or pain ted over one of the old scenes that was seldom called for. At the time of which I am talking the old runs and grooves existed in Pope’s Theater, but were beginning to disappear from other houses projected at about that time. They gave way to the clear stage with boxed scenes now so common and which are sup- ported in panels by stage braces set behind each panel, with the panels held together by lashings hung from the top and falling over alternating cleats on the two joining edges. Our paint frame at Pone’s Theater was presided over by Ernest Albert, an artist to- day, both in the theater and in the gallery, of international reputation. His assistant was a blond and gentle lad named Frank E. Gates, son of the old Si Gates who for many years was in charge of the stage at the old Olympic. Frank Gates is now at the head of one of the largest scenic studios of New York. Hancock, the Superb The brilliant artist, Ernest Albert, was not much, if any, older than myself. He was a member of our St. Louis Sketch Club, and there was always between us a real artistic sympathy. It is probably be- cause I knew what Albert was trying to do and what he succeeded in doing when physi- cal conditions permitted that many of the hours during which I was relieved from my watch in the box office I was allowed to put in on the paint frame, where with an eagerness that equaled any protégé of Tom Sawyer’s I found delight in spreading flat colors on the immense canvases. Before the speculators and the agencies intervened, and when the patrons of the theater got their seats at the box office by a diagram on which they were permitted to make their choice, there were few places of business so interesting to the occupant as was the old box office. In ordinary times, from the hour that it opened up until the window was pulled down for the day, there was no such clearing house for gossip, not even excepting the celebrated rural sewing circle. Pope’s Theater at Ninth and Olive streets was outside the important business district, although upon a street of the smaller and more exclusive shops. Also the most fashionable car line of the city was double-tracked past its doors. Ac ross Ninth Street to its left was a post office and custom house, in its fine new granite struc- ture, grand for that time. Facing the theater immediately across Olive Street was Pierre Lambert’s three-story French Restaurant Porcher, with its iron bal- conies along the front in Southern fashion and its wide stairway with ornamental railings of cast-iron grapevines leading to the first porch. Hancock the Superb had just been de- feated for the presidency, and sought a semiretirement in one of the two or three apartments run in connection with this Restaurant Porcher. At the hour of nine, when we were to open up in the morning, the picturesque general, wearing his Ben Butler hat, was often coming in leisurely fashion to the sidewalk from this building. Men who remember the Hancock campaign will recall Tom Nast’s cartoon of Hancock seated on a platform with a placard on the wall behind him—Tariff for Revenue Only. Hancock was depicted as leaning over to his neighbor and privately asking, “‘Who is Tariff and why is he for revenue only?” The country was then laughing at Han- cock’s declaration that the tariff was a local issue. The subsequent alignment on the tariff question of widely separated com- munities as soon as they became interested in some local manufacture indicated that Hancock was more nearly right than were (Continued on Page 89)

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Lexington Leads Because It Lasts! Announcing Series ‘U’ HE ‘U’ means u/timate! It is the matured prod- uct of a pre-determined plan behind everything Lexington has done for more than a decade. The aim has been a car of maximum service and minimum upkeep, whose peak of efficiency will be maintained in excess of all previous standards. The theme of this notable car is durability. You can safely buy it with 100,000 miles of utmost satis faction ahead of you. There can be no other quality car like it, because the factory-community system which produces the Lexington is like that of no other car in the world. This vast system affords advantages and effects economies enjoyed by no other method of auto- mobile making. The Series ‘U’ possesses all the essentials of gentility, has the charm of gracious proportions, and is dec idedly a car of repose. Its range of effort less performance is phenomenal. Power has been put to music by the famous Ansted Engine. It has a split-second acceleration, is a champion on hills, and is a thoroughbred under every condition. Write for complete information on this extraor dinary new car, the most complete car put on the market by a manufacturer—or see it at the Shows. LEXINGTON MOTOR COMPANY, CONNERSVILLE, INDIANA, U.S. A. Subsidiary United States Automotive Corporation

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Lee] THE SATURDAY EVENING POST January 28,1922

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Test Your Own Piston Rings It’s easy. Turn your motor over by hand—pull the crank up against compression, and hold it for a few seconds—on each cylinder. If the resistance is gone, your rings are leaking —you need new ones. [ ~nb ( < lor the BALL POINT HAMMER » MARKS inside the p 2 r. ng

a TST ne; [S ESET "SSNS sy gE RN

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Continued from Page 86 Perhaps it was his courage that drew Carnegie, one of the tariff’s benefic iaries, to ‘the tariff was the his crities. inspired A gre t

somewhat mother of the atest later, that ‘ trusts.” Say, At the theater business men of some de- gree of leisure and independence walking down from the rt districts in the morning would stop in for their reserva- Others would hurriedly drop off a for the same purpose. After the first run of buyers for the ordinary attraction, and when the lobby had then quieted down to the occasional straggler, the early noon newspaper men came by. They were by the biil collectors and local advertisers. About eleven the fashionable tions. car aiter- followed

women, married and unmarried, made their calls. It may be that the visiting actors showing up at about that time had some determining influence. During the lunch hour there would be a run of the clerks and bookkeepers who tucked a call at the arama prt tg ge 2 After 2 30 big boys and girls from the high school came into the lobby to look at the pictures Later the brokers walking home and the ladies combining a call with their other shopping would drop in. Then there the half-idle id the lobby an excellent place to waste portion of every day. were always contingent who members of

sore A Curious Affinity I don’t know why it is, but there has

always seemed to be a strong affinity be twe the young men in the box office and the snare drummer in the orchestra. There were two drummers of considerable reputa tion Pope’ s orchestra during my time One was Le Grand White, t} he first hus of Minnie Maddern Fiske, married ro mantically in St. Louis during her first tarring engagement. Miss Maddern had met Mr. White through her ile, Di Maddern, who was then the cor ot ietor ir Theater orchestra, and who had Pope's the orche i the night ier drummer, who ank David

\ alternoon to give omic imitations and practice dance step on the tiled pavement. A few years late Frank was for a short time the most pron nent comedian on Broadway, having 1 a phenomenal hit in the comic opera The Pyramid Opposite the theater a littl farther ip the same block with the Restaurant Porcher, was the photograph gallery of Mr Fox was the father of two daug! Fox, the elder, years « id, was one ol the prize She had then about sixteer beauties of the city

After C Thorne, James O'Neill was then perhaps America’s favorite romantic actor, but as modest and lovable at the height of his popularity as he continued to the day of his recent death. Hisson, Fuge a of E Bevond Horizon, p ass Nil lather in er naries uthor tne noble Jones and to g fame. mperor romises sur} dur John Raymond. was a great box-office \ tor He would patiently stand through five minutes of ticket selling or longer to

get a half minute in which to match silver dollars with the treasurer. This form of gambling was a pa ym wit imi Fred eri Warde brought with him as leading man Henry Aveling, who married our amateur heroine, Mittens Willett, and brought also a juvenile man calling himself Hallet Murray, who turned out to be my old Palmoni, of Washington City The Slayback Tragedy that visit told me of t

leath a year or two before of A. W.. our oid actor precepto as grandmothe had tultively reported it Palmoni himself was a disappointed mar He had a

ability that in legitimate parts could t overcome his lack of stature, but he had a tendency to be stout enough to make him sirable in the roles ‘wo years after the time of which I a York City With

writing he died in New this confirmation of A. W.’s death and the news of Palmo enda t g interest passed fro £ lmother’s hortzor ind he dear old la began to f more per tibl I warranted | her ad 1 t ( ne Ir he OX OflIcCe one ide ail é te r ic quaintance vith the me r ployed 1 the local department f the news} re! ind now and the with rrnie f the editors. Me promi t among the reporte vho used to visit the front of the ! Is¢ ind certainly the one best knowr thereafter to the American reader, wa young William Mar Ri | who later became the editor and owner of the St Louis Mirror, which for so mar ears he conducted with such distir In the ear 0 Reedy uS a ! with a face noticeable for ntelligence He wa interested, as most young men on news pape are, in the playhouse and there friendship hi wi ce vent or newspapers vars late which cor t ot ni deat! en in the editorial depart ment with whom I enjoyed an intimate friendship was the gifted Col. John C rell, the acting as managing editor of the Post-Dispatch Colonel Cockre “ 1180

a face that would have de- | eysa McMein as a ) model for a magazine cover, on and I am sure still delights \ her husband, Nat Roth, the yeneral business manager New York for the Shubert to the chaperon then and avail came theater in

the daytime t r, Della, years of age, ible to the visit tractions as a child actres about

lla’s firstappearance onthe stage, I think, was at Pope’ ‘heater in Celebrated

with James O'Neill és , > > e. . eae ‘ ‘ if i | \ An fap F ‘ ty ; f = an! ¢ X > * est \ 5 4 / \ ‘ 4 ) ’, / ~) ‘ w “y Xe x 4 > \ f } 2 7 A\. \ Y ~) WS ma 4\ \ n ‘ >] \ wi en ( i oi é SS \ U py ; ™~ ¢ ¥ 4

Two Scenes From The Professor, in Which William Gillette Appeared esident of the I Club, anothe embe of which was |! fairl timate friend, Alonzo W Sila ack In a politic: ampaign of that time it became nere for he paper to speak critically of iyback, and Slayback, who w i e-eating Sou ne erved threatening notice upon Cockrell the event ol any further pub- tion. The next afternoon the Post-Dispatch followed its first ti with a second reference The paper was hardly upon the treetwner Slay back, accompanied by a mutual friend by the name of Cromwell, passed through the Post-Dispatct local rooms and entered Cockrell’s private office.

trsonaltty if the Doorway THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 1duall a 1Oe l GOOTY No part oft ‘is i home expre SSeS dl architec tural VI offers a cheerv welcome t the ior lt th vatew the dehghttul h mitality ve fou witt the hor Th i \ ] \ { l ‘ rn | ] ] j ki when the \ t te] within, ' nadow it ( \ to pla Th mooth mot , tn en It t {ft reth wht ind cat! th l of tt I th t I ot th ta 1M t t wh nN | D tl nit thar aif a i \l hy 1] { i 6B t ! t th ‘ ict | mie f t refu i tsa builder Phe care and | vith which Mck 1 Butt mace th 1 ‘ = ind make p ble thi hout h « i cl vith i VMicKkinney Butt i ma \ . | i! ! e with ever tyvl iW iW Garage-door Hlardware Svts. I t h , Mi 1) KINNEY MANUFACTURING COMPANY P 4H \\ B ( | t R MCKINNEY Hinges and Butts

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HO PATTON'S si eee ee es Sele eee SECS SRE CG CY ESO COST ee el ee Cl ieo ce ee ere eress ys, PITISBURGH PLATE ( GLASS C THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Paint Your Automobile b peede: spare time spent in renewing the finish of your car, yields big dividends in increased car value and personal pride. An easy‘flowing enamel like Pat ton’s Auto-Gloss applied with a good brush and reasonable care will give you a smooth, lustrous finish which will stand motor heat, weather and the impact of flying highway grit and dust. Patton’s Auto Gloss Enamel comes ready to use in sixteen popular colors. Sold by quality dealers eg re Write for “Proof” be PITTSBURG H PL ATE G LASS Co esi: Lace WIS ocr \NSIN NEWARK, NEW JERSEY As he advanced he drew a revolver, but be- fore he had time to use it Cockrell had taken his own weapon from the table in front of him and fired. Slayback was instantly | killed. Cockrell drove to the police court, surrendered himself and was locked up. The news of the shooting was telephoned to the theater. I was on duty at the time. Mr. Pope considerately took my place at the window and I went across the town to the jail. I was the first man in Cockrell’s cell, and remained with him until Johnny Norton, who was his boon companion, came there. In the few minutes that we were alone together Colonel Cockrell was self-controlled, but plainly alive to the tragic character of his act and the serious- ness of his own situation. His only reference to it all was when in commonplace I had said, “‘Sorry, Colonel.” He nodded slowly as he answered, “Too bad, but it couldn’t be helped.” Colonel Cockrell was released on bail and the case was dismissed without being brought to trial. Whether the tragedy terminated his usefulness in St. Louis or not, it made continuation of his work there unpleasant to him. He removed to New York, where he took charge of the editorial page of the World. I saw him frequently after 1889, when I came to make my home in the East. He became the president of the New York Press Club and gathered about him a small circle of agreeable and influential friends, but it was my opinion that the Slayback killing clouded the rest of his brilliant life. Welcome Visitors One outstanding recollection of that time at Pope’s is of William Gillette’s first visit as a star. He came in his own play, The Professor, to my mind the most charm- ing of the long list from his pen. Gillette was then under the management of the Madison Square Theater, his tour directed by Gustave and Charles Frohman. An indication of the dignity with which affairs theatrical were treated is in the advance illustrations by Kelly printed in the news- papers and the programs of the day. These drawings, designed for clearness on rapid printing presses, had as much artistic merit as the process permitted. The two given on page 89 show the character of the work; give an idea of the costumes of 1880 and fairly epitomize the story of The Professor, an attractive but mature person beleaguered by lovelorn applicants, and challenged by younger and envious rivals. The garments of the young men in the picture, especially the lad with the short jacket buttoned tightly to the neck, are worth a glance; the entangling trains of the women, the Wat- teau pleats, their stays and bustles will make the modern girl thank heaven for her freedom. Another welcome visitor at the box office was W. J. Florence, familiarly known as Billy Florence, who with his wife was jointly starring in the phenomenally suc- cessful comedy The Mighty Dollar. Flor- ence was the projector and organizer of the Mystic Shriners, that post-graduate play- ground of the thirty-second-degree Masons. He and the elder Sothern, Lord Dundreary, were boon companions. One week when Sothern was playing at the Olympic Theater and Florence was at Pope’s, Florence took a carriage at the first intermission in his play, drove rapidly to the stage door of the Olympic, which was half a mile away, passed the doorkeeper and went onto the stage, where Lord Dundreary was in the midst of a scene. Waddling down from the center door with his unctuous laugh he grasped the hand of the astonished Dundreary and wished him health “by a large majority.’”’ The crowded | house, watching Our American Cousin, | immediately recognized the star from the | other theater. This prank occasioned a good | deal of merriment at Pope’s when Florence got back and reported it. Its perpetration had extended the intermission but slightly. Florence and his wife were in the middle of their big scene in the succeeding act when, to their great astonishment, but to the equal delight of this second audience, | the lisping Dundreary minced in through | the center to announce that he “had just had a letter from Sam.”’ He greeted both Florences effusively and departed. This good-natured interchange has had many imitations since that day, but I believe it was original with Florence. One story of Florence concerned his first endeavor on any stage. When as a lad engaged to keep out of sight behind the January 28,1922 scenes and on a given cue to bark like a dog, which he could do, an actor asked, “What will you do, Billy, if you get stage fright and can’t bark? The boy answered, “I’ll wag my tail,” which showed a ready sense of character. Perhaps more than any other man in the theater, with maybe the exception of Joseph Jefferson, Hlorence numbered among his friends the important politicians of the country. This may have been the conse- quence of his admirable burlesque of a congressman as the Honorable Bardwell Slote—and he had political ambitions him- self. After Cleveland’s first election the belief was general that Mr. Florence would be appointed ambassador to France. Col. Henry Watterson was the man who brought the question to the attention of Cleveland. Although Cleveland was numbered among the personal friends of the actor, he was obliged to explain to Watterson that the church members of the country would not forgive him if he appointed to an office of such prominence a member of the theatrical profession. James H. Hackett, the father of our present James K. Hackett, lately made chevalier of the Legion of Honor for his performance of Macbeth in Paris, was considered by playgoers the greatest Amer- ican Falstaff. But I have heard men who saw both claim the supremacy for Ben De Bar. This old actor required very little padding to realize the rotund knight, a favorite character with him. De Bar also excelled in most of the low-comedy parts of that repertoire. He was unsurpassed as Toodles, and was the best Dogberry I ever knew. I saw him walk away with the honors in an all-star performance of Lon- don Assurance that was given for some charity in which the brilliant Edwin Adams played Charles Courtly. A good leading man of that time, one Metcalf, ‘played Sir Harcourt; Charles R. Pope was the Dazzle and Ben De Bar the Mark Meddle. I doubt if the play had had an equal presen- tation in its first production in England when the then young Dion Boucicault, its author, wrote to his mother in Ireland, “I have London by the throat.’ Adams was then starring in Enoch Ar- den and some Shaksperean parts. I saw his Hamlet that week. Many men of judgment in the theater preferred it to all others. I have seen some thirty Hamlets, includ- ing Booth and Barry Sullivan, but I think Adams the most thrilling of them all in the scenes with the ghost, probably because of his more melodramatic methods. The Glass of Fashion The boys in the box office were always happy to have C. W. Couldock come along, as he did in Hazel Kirke and The Willow Copse. We went with the old gentleman one night after the play to the Elks rooms for supper. The order had been given when the uneasy veteran asked if there was not some place to which we could take him where there would be sawdust on the floor and he could get an order of finnan haddie. Le _ re were just such conditions in a room t Tony Faust’s, two blocks away, where we spent the rest of the evening with the coveted smoked fish and some bumpers of beer. Couldock at that time divided popular support as the first old man of the country with James H. Stoddart. He had spent his life in the theater, been one of the most prominent exponents of Louis XI and similar legitimate parts, and could fill all the evenings of a week with stories of the old days before we bad fallen upon the de- generate times, as he then measured the one in which we were. Another very agreeable acquisition that came to one in a box office was the frater- nity which it established with the men in the other box offices, and the information that came through them concerning all current theatrical happenings. At the Olympic Theater the treasurer was Mr. Dunn, who is still called Eddie, though he must be within a few years of my own age, and has had now the responsible position of general manager for Mr. George M. Cohan. I don’t think I ever saw a more uniformly cour- teous and even-tempered person than Mr. Dunn has been in a number of trying occu- pations. In the old days the only railroad in the country that advertised a four-track roadbed was the New York Central. Eddie, who has always been a careful dresser, was then the leader if not the misleader of fashion. He used to wear in the box office (Continued on Page 93)

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SATURDAY EVENING POST

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$92 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST January 28,1922 CHARLES «10 SALE For the first time this genius of rural delineation on the speaking stage trans- fers his art to the screen. PHOTOS © ig?) SS - PEYTON eCharaclers in In Preparation OTIS SKINNER in“ Mister Antonio” am isk Your Theatre When It Will Be Shown “a by BOOTH TARKINGTON “GRUMPY” by Horace Hodges and EXCEPTIONAL PICTURES CORPORATION T. Wigney Percyval ALEXANDER BEYFUSS, President MARTIN JOHNSON'S \ “Jungle Adventures’ NEW YORK CITY

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Continued from Page 90 what he called his New York Central shirt, which had four very decided stripes down the bosom. I think that both Mr. Dunn and I, as well as all others that were ever in the theater offices of St. Louis, will accord to old George McManus credit of greatest popularity. There is scarcely any man who came into the profession as early as twenty-five years ago who will not remem- ber him as a pleasant acquaintance and delightful friend. After saying that he was the father of the present George McManus, the talented artist who runs the comic stories of Bringing Up Father and similar humorous drawings in certain syndicate papers, it will be interesting to the members of the Eugenics Congress to note that this humor that has blossomed out in young George through his illustrations found ex- pression in the father in an unbroken series of harmless practical jokes of legitimate kinship to the absurdities depicted by young George. A few of these are worth telling, because of their character and the light they throw upon the mind that got entertainment out of the disproportion be- tween common expectation and events. On the wall of George McManus’ box office at the Grand Opera House there was a strip of wood equipped with what ap- peared to be four tenpenny nails on which and hats might be hung. Two of these nails were usually occupied by garments. One of the remaining two, al- though a tenpenny nail in appearance, was a very artful imitation made of black car- spring rubber. A regular nail had first been driven into the wood, then withdrawn and this rubber counterfeit substituted. Mce- Manus got an average of one laugh a week out of this by hanging his own coat on the good nail when it came time to count up and then watching the business manager of the visiting company try to make his coat stay in midair by passing the collar over this rubber nail. It seemed to be a law of the human mind to assume that the overcoat’s fall to the floor was the result of a failure to encompass the nail, and it some times took two or three repeated attempts for the victim to discover the deception. some coats The Dummy Push Button Just over the office table, and affixed to the wall, was an ordinary electric push button in its hard wooden plate. When the iaugh was over about the overcoat and the two men were g would say, “We'll have a drink on that,” or a cigar, and very ostentatiously push this electric button. A moment or two after an aproned waiter from the adjoining bar- room would enter and inquire the pleasure of the gentlemen who had summoned him. He really came because McManus had arranged with an usher to go after him. The button on the wall had no connection with anything except the plaster. Twenty-four, hours would go by before McManus could realize anything on this investment, and then upon the second night the visiting agent would in his turn say, “Shall we have a drink now?” George would assent, and the next half hour would witness the mountir g irritation of the visitor as he intermittently punched this dummy call bell. There were many of these devices, and some were being con- stantly replaced. Just inside the box-office window was a gigantic thermometer of the kind sometimes displayed for advertising purposes outside the corner drug store. It was about three feet in length. When an agent of a coming attraction arrived and began his preliminary talk through the box-office window with McManus he would be puzzled by George’s turning to his as sistant and saying ‘Forty,’ or ‘Sixty,’ or some other number; the explanation for which the agent would find a few days later when he got the run of the office and saw the decimal degrees on the thermom- eter variously marked with the customary phrases of boastful advance men, such as “Capacity in Cincinnati’: and ‘“‘When I was with Booth”; and so on. It was a salutary shock for a pompous individual to find that he had fallen into a tiresome category. In the early ’80’s there was an impression still current in our sober city that economy is wealth. McManus used to be annoyed by that section of the opera-house patrons who, moved by this precept, lighted cigars during the first intermission and then care- fully left their half-smoked butts resting on the wainscoting of the lobby when the to count up George THE SATURDAY curtain went up and they were called inside McManus would then come from the box office with a squirt bottle of tabasco sauce, from which he carefully shot two or three charges upon the chewed end of each cigar. In the second intermission the man first to recover his cigar was generally sport enough to try to control his sensation. But a dozen frugal patrons looking their mutual confessions to each-other made an amusing ensen ble . In the contraband literature of our kid days Ned Buntline or some equa! author used to write of Buffalo Bill. One day an advance agent arrived at Pope’s and the paper went up for this hero in his romantic play The Prairie Waif. The next Sunday night I had the great happiness of meeting the Hon. William F. Cody. I found that my admiration was shared by the preceding generation. He and Pope were already great pals. During that engagement, in a buckskin suit which Buffalo Bill lent him, Pope and the famous scout—boys grown tall—were photographed together seated over a stuffed deer which the property man carried over his shoulder to the gallery across the street. This hero worship is a great tendency. One of Cody’s engagements overlapped that of Nate Salsbury, who had his little company of five sprightly people—John Webster, Nellie McHenry, John Gourlay, Rae Samuels, and Salsbury himself, known as Salsbury’s Troubadours. Nate Salsbury came to be a figure of international reputa- tion. At that time he was fixed in my mind principally by a story of his persistence that John Norton used to tell. Unflattering Terms Salsbury as a young man had written from Chicago to Cincinnati asking an en- gagement for utility business in the stock company of Bob Miles, who ran a theater in that city. Miles had sent a negative answer. Salsbury replied with an offer to go for forty dollars a week. Miles refused this. Salsbury then telegraphed him, the situa- tion being urgent, that he would accept the place at thirty dollars a week. Miles, thoroughly annoyed, wired back, “Mr. Salsbury, I don’t want you at any price.” Salsbury answered, “Terms accepted. Will be on in the morning.”’ And he came. This push and energy, which manifested itself in everything that Salsbury did, was in harmony with much that Cody had. Shortly after the two men got together their great enterprise of the Wild West, which ran for many years, was organized and launched. Salsbury, knowing my rail- road experiences, wished me to take charge of its transportation department, moving its large collection of animals and men. At that time, however, I was filled with the project of a theatrical company of my own, and, wisely or unwisely, declined Toward the end of our second season in Pope’s, Barney Macauley came to play a week in The Messenger From Jarvis Sec- tion. He had with him a little girl named Evans playing the part of Chip, of I believe the child, Minnie Mad- had been the original. His leading Mr. Charles Mason, a very sterling actor, still in the profession, was leaving him, and at Mr. Pope’s suggestion I went in on short notice to play the part of Sandy Mitchell. The character of Keppler, a Ger- man barkeeper in the play, was being played by the stage manager, a young fel- low about twenty years of age, with re- markable eyes. They had most soulful and pathetic appeal. ‘This actor was a good comedian and a most excellent stage mana- ger. His name was Charles Klein He was even then interested in the subject of writing plays, and was acting to get the experience so helpful to a playwright. Be- fore he went down on the ill-fated Lusi- tania, Charles Klein had won his way to the foremost rank in his profession. Read- ers will remember his Music Master, The Lion and the Mouse, The Third Degree, and other plays. In an earlier chapter of this record I re- ferred to the discreet treatment of | ving persons by one writing that is advised by A decent respect for this advice and such conference 1 men of experience AS it ‘ made desirable have invited a few time- to-time advisers. One of these i torney, old enough to serve upon any pardon board, experienced, grave, dignified d scholarly, and not so much my senior in years as to be out of touch with all my impulses. He frowns discouragingly at such an EVENING POST :* au “The Shinele ‘That Never Curls r HINK over the shingle adver- ‘tisements you have seen. Can you remember any other shingle of which this has been said—‘*The Shin- gle that Never Curls’’? You know that slate-surfaced shingles /ook alike, but laboratory tests have shown that the Carey Asfaltslate Shin- gle is built on a heavier felt which ab- sorbs a greater amount of water re- sisting asphalt; that is why it des not cur’, And, of course, insurance com- panies approve all Carey Shingles every bundle carries the Underwriters’ Laboratories’ official label. ASFALTSLATE SHINGLE THE PHILIP CAREY COMPANY)

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For battery py Westinghouse! To uphold the something you can't borrow fame of a great name Westinghouse Batteries must make good. current you need for ignition, lights and starter? Why not safety in the give yourself an ‘! oversize”’ battery ? It has greater plate area means longer be without “juice i Why, margin of then, ignore the Sixteen hundred Westinghouse Service Stations are ready to give any make of battery Westinghouse Attention NGHOUSE UNION BATTERY CO., SwIssvaLe, WESTINGHOUS BATTERIES One quality—the BEST Westinghouse can make | extent attached | expanding, EVENING POST glimpses as he has had of my doings thus far. He wishes that I would write with the restraint and gravity of John Morley or Sir George Trevelyan, though of course not curbing my genius to the mediocrity of either; that there should be no audible laugh in the sessions, and that the greatest relaxation should be only a genial glow indicative of good nature. He tells me that I am not on a witness stand; not under any compulsion to make a revelation that will not read always to my advantage; and moves further, upon my silent reception of this, by an alarm for the interest of the helpless sensitive persons whom I may in- volve. That my father, who at the age of fifty, having met with an accident that for a time prevented further pursuit of business, resumed the study of medicine interrupte d in his youth, and won his degree in an established medical college, my counselor submits is an unnecessary statement, even though father’s course in the college re- quired my coéperation at home, and to that itself to my activities. Well, my adviser is right; that is an un- necessary statement; but so is any other statement in this whole performance. My own present needs are not such nor is the financial return for the promised output large enough to furnis h me with even the sordid excuse of Romeo’s apothecary when parting with the poison that ‘‘my poverty but not my will consents.” It is only fair to the publishers, however, in this tion to say that a middleman, previously indicated, has assured me that “‘they will come across stronger next time.” connec- Sending Dad to School But I think I could resist that induce- ment, too, if it were not my belief that my father if living would himse elf take pleasure in the recital. He lived to practice his profession thirty years; to know his col- leagues and his clientele in that helpful, incre asingly interesting way that a physician’s calling opens and the agreeable atmosphere that it provides. He radiated what he so acquired, and the studio in which I write and the summer place of which our domestics so fully ap- prove would lose much that makes them magnetized and restful if the repeated visits of the sweetly aging doctor were unremembered. When father was compelled to ow his work we had as neighbor a Doctor Kent, member of the faculty of the Hom wlcors ic Colle “re, who app yroved of the suggestion for father to resume the study of medicine. There were some serious fan ily discussions which narrowed down to a talk between father and me. I found an increase of in- come by undertaking to do more drawings on boxwood for the engravers, and with this in sight father consented to start in on his four-year course. Looking back at that time over an interval of more tl forty years, I don’t believe that I am exagygerat- ing the human interest of it. The positions of father and son were in one respect com- ple ttely reversed. He started off to school with his books in the morning and came home after his day’s session and devoted his nigh®s to study. About him were the domestic prob lems. The import: int thing was to meet these with the least call upon him, and at the same time to keep up his spirits to the heroic thing he had under- taken. I won’t attempt the proper tribute that belongs to the women of the family for their part of this; they were unwavering in the brave front they presented to father and the atmosphere of content that they created. My job in addition to that already in- licated was to establish a comedy view of the thing; to call the medical student to account for implied truancy and theatri- cally to assume the role of a grouchy stage father bringing up an _ incor rrigible son. About once a week I pretended to get favor- able reports from the teachers, and would reward their pupil with a visit to the theater, on which I accompanied him dur- ing the time I was in the law office and in which I joined him when we had 1 counted up at Pope’s after I had gone there. As a matter of both economy and companion- ship he and I used to walk home—two miles. My interests were theatrical; fa- ther’s experiences were largely so; and the talks that started as far as I was concerned in a deliberate intent to divert his thoughts always finished in a real abandonment to the subject, with both of us in the happiest earnestness. January 28,1922 The last attraction at Pope ’s Theater during my emp loyment there was the cele- brated Vokes family. At the end of their week they separated; the girls, Victoria, Rosina and Jessie, and the brother, Faw- don, going back to England. Fred Vokes, however - the prine ipal member and mana- ger of the enterprise, — a pl ay in mind which he wished to try America during the summer; a farcic Ly contrivance whit h he called In Camp. He engaged me to undertake the part that had been originally intended for Fawdon Vokes. Ww hen the new company, which immediately assembled found its« rhe ther in Buffalo, all rooming at the old Mansion House, the principal me ada were Pauline Hall, later the comic- opera star; Minnie Schultz, a soprano, at that time the wife of the talented Louis Harrison; and Miss Helen Dingeon, a so- prano of power and reputation. The prin- cipal men were Owen Westford, a very excellent comedian, and a young man Mee Byron Douglas, who later became an established leading man. When rehearsals should have begun we discovered that Vokes had no script what- ever, but only an idea for a play. All of u boys thereupon sat down with pen, ink and paper to help him. Together we finally ground out a hodgepodge not unlike a modern musical play. All that is import to note of that engagement is that in one of the off hours, in a w — bout, West- ford had the misfortune so that his Buffalo engagement was playe on crutches Our next important stand after Buffalo was Chicago, where we arrived on a rainy Sunday, none of us with any money. West- ford, Pauline Hall and I, forming one little coterie, went on foot in the I | of a hotel. The old ednen em. later the Wellington Hotel, was situated on Wabash Avenue. The desk was approached by a corridor some sixty feet in length and twenty wide. A pompous clerk glared at our party as we came in from the drizzle and stood at the front door Westford being on crutches, I went up to the desk to negotiate for quarter T) } ] on the American plan. I said, ‘‘What is the rate for aaa The clerk to bre: ik an ar kle answered, Three dol “What is your professional actors?” Looking over my head into vacancy, the clerk answered, ‘Three fifty.” Nowhere to Come but Back We went a few blocks farther on to a little rooming house called the Wind with a second-floor office " where one ce get a comfortable room at a dollar ; When the Chicago engagement was fairly launched my colleagues in St. Louis were far enough advanced with their plans for a company of our own for me to quit the Vokes ente rprise and go ho pe. In the early days of his popularity as a singing tramp, Walter hang our promi nent farceur of to-day, used to recite some verses written by Ben King of the old Whitee hapel Club of Cl icago, expressing the tyranny of the prepositior As I re member, the first lines ran: Nowhere to go but out Nowhere to come but ba No place to stand hut ¢ Nowhere to fall but of In my few essays at a career up to the time of which I am telling there had uni- formly been no place to come but back. I never came back, however, witl eagerness than from my summer 'season with Fred Vokes; or with more welcome or greater happiness upon my arrival. My father, who had got hi diploma from the college, doctor and building a little practice that made it possible for me without excessive elfishness to try somewhat for my our leisure] ; I sat with } experience in that was now set upa self. n y review and stock taking as him that midsummer, he now the breadwinner and I the talked over the period covering slightly more than a decade since I had come bac! from Washington. How full the time had What prosperity the had! What a growth in its activities! What a reaching out of its markets! Wi hat moil in its political agitations! A syndicate of newspapers, the Scripps- McRae League, had established a penny paper in our city, among others; copper coins were really beginning to cir Continued on Page 97 enturer, we ’ ’ ’ been! country had a tur- culate PE t i

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96 Motor « ‘Wheel PRODUCTS Gier Tuarc steel WHEEIs N > THE SATURDAY EVENING POST January 28,1922 Two-Arc Resilience Press straight down and there is very little “give”? to most solid substance re They offer greatest resistance under compression. | #&4 Curve apiece of metal and pt on one end, and it will “flex” witl parative ease. Just so do the two arcs of Tuare Steel Wheels yield to the blows of the Shocks are absorbed by the resilience ot the curving design, Inste id ol beit transferred to vital parts by an unyielding straight section of metal } This resilience ot Tuare \ heels Saves tires; It saves be irTings, axles, and ever part of the car It increases riding comfort. j The resilient double curve design at the same time brings the tire-Vaive neatly to th outside—accessible without annoying attachments or strenuous work. And you are¢ saved the labor of handling whole wheels by the demountable rims of Tuarc Wheel P , Since this means that you carry spare tires On the rim only, as usu il, you pay no extta wheels and for no new wheel carrier. Not even a cotter pin is changed on your car to install Tuare Wheels. Theit being identical with the hubs you now use, you save delay, labor cost, and extt For sO little outlay you cannot add yrac¢ and distin« tion greater th in those fford by the remarkable Tuare two-are design —with its essential resilience to protect your whole car. MOTOR WHEEL CORPORATION, LANSING, MICHIGAN Gier Tuarc STEEL WHEELS h en —— 2 Se es —

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Continued from Page 94) west of the Mississippi and south of the Ohio; merchants were marking down goods from five dollars to four-ninety-eight; news- boys were making change for less than a nickel; my old friend, Gen. Benjamin Butler, by some turn of the whirligig found himself politically associated with the sand-lot agitator, Dennis Kearney, of California, who originated the slogan, ‘“‘The Chinese Must Go!” with whose blatherskite am- bitions I felt a perhaps reprehensible but not inexplicablesympathy; what was called the National Party had been organized with strength enough to pass the Greenback Bill for fiat money; the bill had gone through both Houses of Congress and been stopped only by the stubbornness of Grant, who vetoed it; our own corn-tassel statesman of Missouri, Richard Bland, far outrunning the subsequent vision of the peerless leader of Nebraska, had put through a bill making silver the sole basis of our national cur- Grant had vetoed this also; and then for the first time since 1862 gold, gradually dropping, had reached par and the country was again on a bi-metallic basis with specie payment resumed. The negroes had achieved civil rights; probable war had been averted by the patriotism of Tilden, who counseled patience and the submission to arbitration of the contested election between himself and Hayes which put the latter in the presidential chair by a vote of eight to seven in the commission organized for that hearing; Garfield had come into the presidency and been assas- sinated by a madman, Charles Jules Gui- teau, of Chicago; Guiteau had been tried, convicted, executed; the great Eads Bridge had been opened; the Father of Waters was no longer the barrier to the railroad communication of the two great longi- tudinal sections of the country. In my own little personal world there had been an almost commensurate exfoliation of events and hopes; far beyond my fiost ivid expectations I had been given an in- side knowledge of the theater in all it departments as much as any city in the Union other than New York could provide ich ini Besides the actors I. have rency; tiation Sense ane Currency Inflation fr the Americans took Vera Cruz, Mexico, one of the newspaper corre- spondents watching the job was the late Richard Harding Davis. Davis and some others had a Mexican commissioner, guide terpreter and general handy man named Benda. It became necessary for the war corre- pondents to have some Mexican money and they sent Benda for it, giving him American money to exchange for Mexica currency. Benda came back with : } of Mexican paper all right until Davis and his associates examined it closely. Then they money that discovered that by some error in the money-making departme nt of the Mexican Government the paper money was pri ted as twenty- peso notes on one side, and ter -peso notes on the other. ‘Here,’ said Davis to his commi ; stuff is no good. It’s printed twenty on one side and ten on the other. Take it back and get good money.” disappeared with the Benda Presently he came back with a great wad of currency, not new stuff, but dirty and ised. Davis counted it There was 50 per cent more than he « x pec ted “Where did you get this?” he, asked money. “From the merchants,” Benda replied. ““You see, I added up the twenty pesos on one side of that other mor ey al d the ten pesos on the other, and passed it on them for thirty pesos.” A Case of Bronchitis A CERTAIN French-Canadian, whose LA knowledge of the King’s English was rather sparse, was invited to stay a few lays with some English-speaking friends in Montreal. On his arrival, the following conversation ensued: “Comment ca va, Pierre? How are you? ‘Well, my fr’en’, I don’t feel ver’ good I hafe a little hourse on the t’roat; in fac’ J have a colt.” 1) mentioned, I had been permitted to witness repeated performances by the great Mrs. Scott Siddons; I had seen the incompara- ble Marie Geistinger, equally excellent in opera, drama, and comedy; had seen and become acquainted with the famous Bos- tonians, with Tom Karl, Henry Barnaby, Will McDonald; had seen Salvini in his heroic work with such splendid support as Lewis Morrison and Marie Prescott gave I had studied the pe rfect work of the well- balanced New York companies, from the Union Square, Palmer's and the Madison Square theaters; had become personally acquainted with. Steele .Mackaye, with whom I was to have a profitable friendship until his death, when the. acquaintance would be carried on with his gifted and poetic son, Perey Mackaye, also a play- wright; had made and begun a lifelong friendship with the matchless Robert G Ingersoll; had made friendships that lasted till their death with many others that have and friendships that still continue with many who remain. Among the de- parted are Digby Bell, Joseph Arthur, George R. Edeson, father of our present Robert Edeson; Stuart Robson, McKee tankin, Frank Mayo, Charles Wyndham, Harry Pitt, Dan McGinnis and a host of others. Of those sti!l playing I had come to know William Gillette, Francis Wilson, the sturdy William Muldoon, De Wolf Hop- per, William Crane, Forrest Robinson, Henry Miller, the veteran Charles Steven- who along with John Drew is one of survivors of the older and classic ol, now flexibly adapting himself to the later methods. I had met nearly all the responsible and irres} i and were then traveling. I had come to know the ablest managers of the time, and the younger men that succeed them. One particular friendship to which I owe so much was with the late Charles Frohman, who dominated the American theater until he wes lost on the torpedoed Lusitania. Of these men I shal! write more to-morrow Editor's Note—This is the fourth of a i f ten articles by Mr. Thoma The fifth will appear gone, Onsible player who till play were to Nonsense He Had the Car N HONOR of a recent visit l iid to his factory by a party of distinguished Eng a well-known Detroit automobile manufacturer had a complete car assembled something like seven minutes Some weeks after this feat was heralded lishmen ’ papers the phone at the plan rang vVigorousis 3 it true that you a sembled a car in seven minutes at your factory?” the voice asked. ‘Yes,”’ came the reply. “Why?” “Oh, nothing,” said the calm inquirer “‘only I’ve got the car.” Rebuked From the Bench | pg de the coast counties of California 1 kind-hearted and simple-minded old prune grower was elected county practically without opposition. Almost the rst case with which he had to deal in an official capacity was the case of a Mexicar outh who in a fit of pique growing out of lomestic difference had so far allowed } ) 1 blood to master him that he tool an ax and with it chopped his aged par ents into small and untidy fragments. The brutality of the crime aroused the who countryside, and captured and arraigned y judge for a preliminary court room was crowded with citizer judge, when the orphan wa before the new count r hearing the tening to the proceedings For himself the pri a single word, merely maintaining a rather bored and indifferent Witnesses testified to the finding of the dismembered bodies, and then the prosecutor demanded that the murderer be remanded to jail to await the action of the grand jury Before authorizing this step His Honor plainly felt it incumbent upon him to say something appropriate to the circum stances. Gazing over his spectacles at the stolid youth, he several times clucked re- provingly with his tongue and then de- livered himself of this utterance “Now, looka here, son! You know you ain’t been actin’ right!” oner declined to say 1 sluence THE SATURDAY EVENING POST bought and eaten. It may be good—it may be wonderfully | good, but if it is not good enough to carry the identify- ing mark of the man who made it, do you consider it | good enough for you? Every piece of Apollo Choco- lates is marked “Apollo.” I . sHOCOLATES OUR PRIDE | —AND RESPONSIBILITY | 1 | There is much nameless candy | tiff ; SSE conietsanicce TT | nny | I DIAMONDS, White Stripe BRAKE LINING -oe FORDS $2.00 Per Set Write for This Free Book Advance Automobile Accessories Corp. Dept. 650 ' 1721 Prairie Avenue Chicago 20% to 507% FROM JASON WEILER & SONS of Boston, Mass., one of America's leading diamond importers { Jason Weiler & ‘ Sons, of Boston, , H los direct by mail {| importing prices! 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~~ In Memphis 7. Goldsmith & Sons Ca. use over 100 Baker-Vawter loose leaf binders in their machine bookkeeping OUR office can pay for itself by getting facts that you can translate in- to dollars. If it isnt doing this, call us BaKER-VAWTER COMPANY Service offices in 52 Cities - General offices Benton Harbor, Mich A A and se ta Loose Leaf and Steel Filing Equipment HETHER destined to a of leisure on carpeted floors, life of hardship on brutal pavements—a Florsheim Shoe al ways keeps faith, loyally perform ing its functions—giving comfort, permanent style, long wear. THE FLORSHEIM SHOE “ 10. The Florsheim Shoe—$ THE SATURDAY EVENING POST January 28,1922 DUST IN THE EYE (Continued from Page 15) part of the agreement in delivering logs to the party of the second part, the said party of the second part might enter upon the lands of the party of the first part and cut timber, making use of whatever equipment belonging to the first party was necessary to the operation. “Don’t see any loopholes,” ‘‘Fiddlesticks! A big corporation doesn’t need a loophole. They use the fourth di- mension,” said Veronica. ‘‘ Now let's get the atlas of this valley and study a little. We'll make believe we are the Common- wealth board of directors, and we’ll plan what we'd do if we were in their place.” They took down the atlas, which showed | every piece of property in the county, its | size, shape, location of buildings and timber and ownership. | At the end of half an hour of scrutiny Veronica said: ‘“‘They’ve advertised the fact that they want to own the valley and everything in it. We know they own the southern end with the Mountain Lumber | Company’s holdings—ninety-seven thou- sand acres. That's that.” “You” “They have owned for a couple of years the northern mouth of the valley—there.”’ She pointed to the various tracts listed in the Commonwealth’s name. ‘Now, as a board of directors, what ought we “Tt’s easy,”” said Ted; ‘we ought to connect our holdings.” “Step to the head of the class—and from now on keep thinking about that. Have it tucked away in the back of your head, and pull it out to look over whenever you get a said Ted. to do?”’ spare minute. Now we're ready to get to business.” “Oh,” said Ted, ‘‘are we?” “Your first job is to arrange for that fifteen-thousand-dollar note. We take it for one the Commonwealth influence has been at work in this bank. Where's a ban k they’re not likely to touch?” ““Why—over in Rah way. Across the ’ mountain. She went to the safe and returned with a loose-leaf book containing the monthly reports of the Peters company for half a dozen years. “There you are,” she said. Good. by.’ “Eh?” ‘Take your little book and put it in your little ear and yo-ho-ho for Rahway,”’ she said. “But there are other notes coming along —about forty thousand in all. Money we borrowed when we enlarged the mill.” “You can't attend to the second note before you've fixed the first one,”’ she said. “And if you make this loan nobody but you and I know where you made it. Noth ing less than ninety days.” Ted returned that evening very well sat isfied with himself. He had negotiated the loan —his first genuine bit of financing—for ninety days. His satisfaction amounted almost to exultation. Somehow he felt he had done a thing to justify himself, and he wanted to be justified in his father’s eye The opportunity to do so came on his arrival home. “Your father’s been waiting for you, Ted,” his mother said. ‘His mind is clear as a bell to-day, and he’s been asking and asking for you. You'd better run right up.” Wind-shake Peters lay very still, inde- seribably older and smaller than he had been, deprived of that robust personality which had given him fame. “*Son,”” he said, ‘I’ve to-day—nothing to do but thinking I’m been think. done. Never amount 'to a tinker’s dam any more. Take up crocheting when I get out of this. Madeup my mind totake your mother California where and hang away to some place like the crocheting weather is good, out there till the yarn runs out.” “‘Tt’s not as bad as that, dad.” “Don’t talk foolish. I don’t have to saw a log into planks before I can tell it’s full of sap rot. I’m done. Here’s what's on my mind. I don’t want to leave you a war, and if we stay in this valley it'll be war from hell to breakfast. The Commonwealth folks want to hog the trough. I think they'll buy at a fair figure. We'll sell, and you can hunt out a new piece of timber, maybe | over in Maine, and get a clean start.” “But, sell. The fight’s on. ever listen to a move.’ “T'll listen to a devil of a lot I wouldn’t have listened to a month ago. Fight’s on, dad, I’ve turned down an offer to I didn’t think you’d eh? Well. Um. Ileaveit to you,son. Fight or stick, but either way you fix it, make those fellows think they’ve handled the hot end of a poker. Get out if you can. More money and more ease place else. Guess that’s all. Tired.” This gave Ted food for reflection, and he chewed upon it for the better part of the night. Next morning he took up the note at the local bank, rather to the surprise of that institution, and possibly to the sur- prise of the Commonwealth people. It may be this action of his served notice on his antagonists that his eyes were open. At any rate, from that moment timber ceased to flow in any sort of stream at all—it be- came a meager trickle. “If this keeps up,” said Ted, to run half time in another wee “‘Tt’s time then,” said Veron ica, up a dust in the bad men’s eye S. failing to keep to thei ir contract. “They y sure are. “‘Where’s their nearest hardwood?” ““Why—the old Holcomb sugar orchard yonder.”’ He pointed out of the window to a growth of hardwood not half a mile “How much is there?” “T’ve heard dad estimate it at some- thing over a hundred th ousand feet.” “Plenty,” she said. ‘‘ Now run place and bort row ten thousand dollar some a have ‘to kick Thes re away. out some The Rahw ay bank was agall con ipl i Sant. Ted left he fund on deposit and returned to conference with Veronica. aid, “‘we’ll start kicking up You're going to log the Holeomb “Now,” shes the dust. plece—u nder r that That's all up to you. job, so run along and do it. get that they won't sit dow ant and sociable while “‘Now there’s something,” Ted said. “I’ve got a feeling I may be good at that. For two day s he drove about the county hiring men and directing them to report at the mill before daylight on Mor day. At clause in the contract It’s your own little But don’t for nand grin pieas ' you're cutting four o’clock Monday morning he sent a man to awake the Commonwealth superir tendent and to serve notice on the c pany that he intended to operate under the op tional clause in the contract. Simultane ously, with a dozen men and two wagons, he appeared at the Commonwealth storehouse and he Iped himself, with pe rfect le gality, to axes — equipment forty men. In the y ard stood a gasoline caterpillar log hauler and half a doz ds. To these he helped himself, and incidentally to a dozen boxes of dynamite. At day] the first saw bit into the first the Holcomb tract, and logging operations were under way. It was war. The Commonwealth’s superinter dent came ing horseback, evi- dently more outraged at being taken awares than by the act itself. His was the attitude of a man who would have to do a great deal of explaining to his superiors. Ted met him at the line. “Hey, you. Do you think away with this?” tendent. “I’ve got away with it so far “T order you to stop. If y this land, and every ax and our warehouse, bef: saddest young man In this state “Then I’m going to be in for grief.”’ The superintendent lost his te mper pletely. ‘‘ What chance do you think you’ve got?” he roared. ‘‘ We're going to get you, and now we'll get you good. You wouldn't listen to reason and sell when you could take a decent ‘price. Now you'll bust. You've started something. Don’t think you're the first flyspeck the Commonwealth ever cleaned off its walis.”’ sufficient for Saws yreak , mapie on down on storn un- you can demanded the get superin- Ted said. ju aren’t off pack in the saw ' re noon you'll be con **Got orders to bust me, eh? That’s why we haven't been getting logs, is it? That’s why the bank soured on us. Well, now you're in the open, let me tell you some- thing. Maybe you'll get me, mister, but before you do you'll discover you’ve been in afracas. I’mgoing to have logs. I’ m get- ting them. I’m just begging you to i "iter- fere. Now get out of here and commence.” The superintendent took himself away, nor did he appear again that day. Logging went on with such unusual speed as the situation was able to induce in the men. They were on edge; Ted discovered in himself a power to handle men and to raise them to a fighting pitch of enthusiasm not that lumberjacks are a class hard to Continued on Page 101) — Se + — —

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST WANTED: 250 Business Men as Franklin Dealers E ARE going to expand. The public is ready. Our new factories are now ready and further plans perfected. These conditions open the opportunity for 250 more business men to become Franklin dealers. This will extend our present organization of 500 dealers and make both purchase and service of Franklin Cars still more convenient. We are taking this short cut to reach such men quickly. Automobile selling experience is not necessary, but good business sense is. The Demand for the Right Kind of a Car So far as statistics for 1921 are available as we go to press, the Franklin outsold all other cars of the same or higher price, as well as dozens costing less. In fact, on the same basis, the Franklin in 1921 did over 80% as much business as in 1920, or practically double the rate of the industry as a whole. Clearer-headed thinking and more careful selection of values on the part of motorists resulted in this remarkable demand for Franklins during the past period of closer buying. Recent Improvements Make It A Better Car Than Ever Continuance of this demand is as sured by these same conditions, par ticularly in view of the Franklin’s score of recent improvements. Head- ing the list is the new case-hardened crankshaft, which will outlast any three other shafts, and which makes bearing surfaces practically non- wearing. Others are: improved electric va porizer, new starter with vigorous turning power, simplified ignition system, new patented Long-type alu- minum pistons, most efficient brake yet designed, adjustable spring pivot bolts, lengthened rear springs, drop- forged load-carrying parts, and larger drive shaft, universal joints, and im- portant bearings. And all these advances backed by Franklin’s 20-year-old principles of light weight, flexibility and direct air cooling, which give comfort, long life, freedom from trouble, and this un- matched economy: 20 miles to the gallon of gasoline; 12,500 miles to the set of tires; 50% slower yearly devre- ciation. (National Averages.) Are You One of the Business Men We Want? Back of the Franklin Company are 30 years of general manufacturing, including 20 years of making the Franklin Car. This stability is further strengthened by this fact:—the world-wide recognition of Franklin princi- ples and progressiveness by automobile buyers clearly marks the line of development in the industry. Franklin expansion is both natural and neces- sary. Is this the sort of a company you want to deal with? And the sort of an opportunity you want to deal in? Address the Franklin Automobile Company for details, with full partic- ulars as to business experience. FRANKLIN AUTOMOBILE COMPANY, SYRACUSE, N. Y.

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100 Vice Pr THE SATURDAY EVENING POST GEORGE B. HUSTON esident of The Huston Banking Company Blandinsville January 28,1922 “Our Bank Has $1,119,681.70 Deposits in a Town Without a Smokestack “Ninety-five per cent of our patrons are farmers,” writes The Huston Banking Company of Blandinsville, Illinois, a town of 1002 people. “We bought over $1,000,000 of govern- ment bonds for the bank and its depos- itors. Fully 75 per cent of these are still held by the original purchasers. “Our farm patrons annually ship over a million dollars’ worth of livestock alone. Ninety per cent of the corn grown about here is being marketed on the hoof—the most profitable way. “We find our leading farmers read The Country Gentleman, and we keep it in the bank’s reading-room because it fosters good farming practices.” This example is offered by THE COUNTRY GENTLEMAN to show the sound condition of its farm readers. ‘Ihe COUNTR GENTLEMAN THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY, INDEPENDENCE SQUARE, PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA The Saturday Evening Post The Ladies’ Home Journal The Country Gentleman M ie

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lift to the did not know how—he gained pathy, and with sympathy a that wages could not buy. He was inter- ested himself. For the first time in his life he was really stirred. Something had hin in its grip, and he felt like anothe r mar he | a few not like the footless boy lived on the job, ate or fighting point. Somehow— he their sym- cooperation ad been weeks before He the job, slept on the ob, and from day ligl t to dark he drove his men even as he drove himself. The first move by the Commonwealtl was not overt Its result al pare nt to Ted ige of freight cars il roduct. With a owe ul iddennes shipments ceased, and goo s begar ba sar rehouse at ~ ager of up in the wa No shipments 1 snort: ir his p a day. coming in. It meant of orders, disruption of bi permanent loss of patror loads checks cancellatic I ISiIness, a Pos ible petitors ‘he told Veror art a back fire?” ind from age to con ‘Tt’s make or bust now,’ ica. ‘Isn't it time k » st “It’s started,’ e said, “ ire. « now on it’s going to rw women and childrer first—with a “sone of lifeboats.” That da letter came fr belting ny endian immediate payment invoice amounting to a thousand dol In the afternoon mail came a peremp y demand from a manufacturer of boxes id cartons for the pz thousand dollars. In both letters indertone which assumed a doubt as to redit of the Peters concern It was \ the beginning. Somehow wi rd had gotte n abroad that the mill was in difficultic s, and the vultures were gathering. A bank Severence gave notice it would not renew paper to the amount of seventy-five hur dred dollars. ““Next thing,’”’ Ted said in a rage, “ body’ll be apply ing for a receive Ay “We've got that ten thousand in the Rahway bank,” she said. “If you're get ting seared we ll with.” “Scared? I’m going to see this through. When we're finished the Peters family are going to be on the town or fixed for life Veronica **Miss Horner,”’ ‘Miss nothing for just nent of some eight was some can use she said severe I; Veronica. I'm in this purpose, and one that’s to show you It’s my chance to prove to you that I’m not such a rotten inv — nt as a hus band. I’m going through with it if it rair red-hot pitchforks.” “Have you talked to the pre Rahway bar k?” she asked, subject. ident of the adroitly chang ‘He ‘ll let us take options in his name?”’ He's rts ime ol } Said he'd for anything that wouldn’t hurt the stand ing of his ha nk.” **Fine! to get the options, We've rot to land the Tomkins tract—that | and the ‘ d sport. twelve i acres ridl piece of he iirty “Six a dred acres, and the Judson holdings of seventy-four hundred acres That cuts the valley in two wi owsand acres. Common twenty-three vealth has neve j bought it up because it knows there’s no other market and it car wait But it can’t afford to see it go into somebody else’s hands now. Ten thousand ought to option every acre of it, and po ly the ( et 1 piece he ide $6 ‘But I'm afraid to leave the cutting The enemy is due to drop down on us any lay—and I’ve got to be there to receive them. And we've got to keep logs moving mill.”’ I'll get your and while I’m at it you've got t diversion. Can't) ‘ou irritate the ¢ ealth fo Iks ie “To I Ted, noon irritating.’ He was as good as his word. According to the daily schedule of the Commor wealth’s narrow-gauge logging road which continued down the valley into the Peters mill yard—a train of logs wa due to arrive from the mountain cuttings at five o'clock. By a circuitou ten carefully selected men reached the Commonwealth mill and secreted them selves just at the far end of the big trestle across the brook. The train came down ten minutes late, but to the astonishment of the Commonwealth yard boss it ‘did not stop to unload. Inste a it kept on going to the switch which opened to the Peters line and chugged merrily down the valley. For Ted and his ten men had boarded the train, ousted the crew and taken complete charge of affairs. to the Then options,”” she said; o create a onmimor nd to-morrow after do the road — the route Ted and net result was eighteen thousand hardwood and an exceedingly irri- Miss Horner was supplied the diversion she required to cover and to take the minds of ils off tracts of tim- 1 they did not imagine could be The feet of tated enemy with all her Con movements imonwealth offici: ng the Commonweal perintendent, at the head of fifty mber acks, made a swift descent upon Ted’ lumbe ring harp ie on. It might have been ted something h. The Ted not expec pt set efficient wat« down the railroad in hind Ss Came a con ody, armed with cant-dog handles rsting for batt! Fifty yards from ective Ted met them and spoke to In his left hand he carried a small r with a black tail hanging fror { j r é ly recogni able } iny river It was dynamite ntlemen,”’ he said, “‘we can't have to-day In fact, we're deter: ed have guests. Besides, I don't like your } you a how to the tor at 4 gr ‘ | gest id, “I'd go iwa I itable in the mor? and somet ght happer “Rush him!” shou iperintend ent. ‘He dassent light it ‘Try it,”’ said Ted, and waited Now there are men who will rush a shot gun, men who will not hesitate to advance but fe W will willing] of dy nite. Dynar Nob. vy moved upon a kr ife, men charge a stick not easy to d rige. That’s better,” said Ted. ‘“‘Now go away from here.” But they did not go. Instead they laid siege to the working It was possible ped to fell togs end to yard then , but force was in — nt to carry them through a } ostil force to the mi In the mill med were piled enough logs to keep the mill in operat or full week, and by the end of that time the battle would be decided one way So he stood off the besiegers and continued to cut ween ; content Mear time Veronica was having diffi ul mvincing hard-headed old lumber men that a girl with lovely eyes and bobbed hair could mean business. But she cor vil 1 them, and in a simple and efficient manner. She showed them real money ‘My principals,”’ she said, “‘are in the market fe ur timber ou have a inding offer from the Commonwealt! people of twelve dollars an acre We offe Now, Mr. Tomkins, rig) { n dollars I is twenty-five hundred is package It’s yours for a sixty-day t at thirteen dollar ( 1an Tomkins; counted it, ar optior or ount it 1 be who is reluc ause he was the sort of man ] tant to allow money whicl ye to | hand ever to depart out of it, the matter ing his property to the president of the Rahw in} Next da fteen hur edd t ed 1 liar ypt r or Une I lle} tr This was not at all d t. But Ju vi wed the final nece il eventvyv-f r hundred acre was more obdurate But Ver was efficient and ver I J equired forty-eight | ind three nousarl dollar to get the mal igna ture. Seven out of ten thousand dollars of borrowed money was invested in optior Either someone must take up those op tions with thirty d for two hundred ninet nine thousand dollar or the Pete Hardwood Cor pany must forteit the u paid for optior Having succeeded o well Ver i loo ~] lor other conque ts remaining three thousand ym on the Green tract of six thou When she reported to’ t option wenty-nine thousand in opti ind acre had under acres of the finest of the state Peter mill and tin berland in Ul { equipment repre ented an investment of one hundred eighty thousand dollar When the opt for the various timber tracts were safely ir the Rahway vault Ted execute d, by virtue of an empowering from his board of directors, an option upon the mill— also ir the name of the Rahway president —for the hundred fifty thousand dol vote im of two lars, plus the cost of all manufactured inventoried in the warehouse at the date of the expiration of the option. Then Ted and Veronica cat to escape from the bag och allowed their and, as is the CLUI Tr, PEABODY & CO THE SATURDAY EVENING POST a ae “ ARROW COLLAR | medium height with ample woo jor the t , INC., MAKERS, rau cri rROY, N.Y _—— a PW TOE / SEV ee wre Dp RICE MI nNUuinely JS NOTHING until you you Thi prices Of (C-rossett l | +} pr FP (Ou WCUMS( le GUalily IS Zenuine ] '] j alter who sells ( rossett Shoes m your oun to you, write us for hi name ~Shoe EASY MAKES LIFES WALK ly hi wh. vicinity

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The retail salesroom of the Newton Annis Fur Post of Detroit, Michigan, was planned throughout by the Welch.Wilmarth Design ng Service. The equipment is of beautiful American walnut in Louis XVI de sign. Sales alcoves, column and elevator enclosures, and all panels are designed to match the equipment Welch.Wilmarth Store Equipment in Period De- signs and in standard de signa is built for stores of all hinds Is your present store equipment THE SATURDAY EVENING POST retarding growth of sales? Is the layout of your store proving a handicap to increased volume? , ns JR store design—the type of your fixtures and the ar- ste ai of de -partments—can make or lose thousands of dol- lars thes your business. Do not risk a stagnant business insure for your store a real growth in trade. Equip your store with Welch-Wilmarth Store L-guipment in Period Design— lay it out according to a Welch- Wilmarth store plan—and you will have achieved two things: a beauty that makes for new pres- tige—a merchandising efhciency that develops increased sales at lowe r OV erhead. if you would have your store pl anned along the broadest lines of beauty, omy, we offer you the co-opera tion of the Welch-Wilmarth Designing Service efficiency and econ This service brings you the experience of a group of licensed building archi- tects, trained store architects and merchandising experts—men who have added to their natural taste and knowledge the best ideas of hundreds of successful merchants all over the country. Entrust the planning of your store to the Welch-Wilmarth Designing Service—choose Period Equipme nt or standard *“Method in Merchandising’ Equipment—and you are laying the foundation for a new and broader business success. F you would like to know more about our new line of Period Equipment, write to us today. We will see that a copy of our beautiful and elaborate book, “Store Equipment in Period De sign,’ is placed in your hands Write also for a copy of our new 48-page bound book on “‘Method in Merchandising,” in which many of the problems confront- ing retail merchants today are authoritatively discussed. Send for this book at once—it is a book well worth a place in your bus iness library Store Lqupment in Terrod Design Originated and Built by Pioneer Store Equipment Builders of Grand Rapids Offices in principal cities Representat ives every where Se ee a ee way with escaped cats, it made a great fuss about its newly acquired freedom. Conse- quently the fact reached the ears it was intended to reach—which were the ears of the Commonwealth Products Company. It was a natural consequence that the dapper little legal gentleman who once had called upon Ted should visit the Rahway bank. “For whom are you acting in this timber deal?” was his first question. “I’m sorry, but I cannot disclose my principals.” ““You have sixty-day options on twenty- nine thousand acres. Am I correct?” “You are correct.” “What do your principals intend doing with the timber?” “Manufacture it.” “Where and how?” “They also have an option on the Peters mill.” ‘At what figure? ye wo hundred fifty thousand « lollars.”’ t’s not worth it. “tt is to my principals. You see, they had to have it.” ““Er—will they consider selling those options? My company will take them off their hands.” **T should have to consult my principals. If you will call to-morrow I will let you know. However, I doubt it.” On the following day the legal gentleman returned, and it was patent he was in a state of anxiety. ‘I hope,’ "he s said, “‘your people will listen to reason.’ ‘They will. They have gone to the trou- ble of securing these options, and naturally expect to derive a profit. Here is their proposition: They will allow you to take the Peters mill at the option price. That is fair. The options on the timber average twelve dollars an acre. Of course the prop- erties are worth more than that to us and to you. It is only the lack of other markets than yourself which has kept the price so low. We will sell at fifteen dollars an acre. There’s the proposition. Takeit or leave it.” ‘Let me get on the telephone,” said the disturbed legal ge ontle man. Twenty minutes’ long-distance telephone conversation ensued, at the end of which the Commonwealth's lawyer turned to the banker ““We accept your proposition,” he said. The deal was consummated exactly at eleven next day, when the Commonwealth's representative turned over to the Rahway bank a certified check for three hundred fifty-nine thousand dollars, representing | the profit of three dollars an acre on the THE WELCH-WILMARTH COMPANIES, ASSOCIATED | timber, the option price of the mill, and twenty-two thousand dollars for the con- tents of the warehouse in manufactured goods and containers. never authorized. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST (More Than Two Million and a Quarter Weekly) IS fully protected by copyright and nothing that appears in it may be reprinted, either wholly or in part, without special permission. The quotations from them for advertising promotions and stock-selling schemes is January 28,1922 The moment the check was in his hands the banker got the Peters mill on the tele- phone and notified Veronica, who, almost dancing with delight, ran out to the be- sieged sugar orchard to notify Ted. “Tt’s done!” she cried. ‘“‘We’ve got the check. We’ve—we’ve robbed the hive and the honey’s in the kitchen.” “Hone ost Injun? The whole bag of tricks, Ve “yan Ke careful. There are a dozen men look- ing, pe besides He noted that she did not forbid him to call her Veronica this time. “But,” he said dolefully, “I haven't proved anything. You did it all. You thought it up.” “Nonsense. We thought it up together. Neither of us could have made it go with- out the other’s help.” “‘Isn’t that an ideal thing for husband and wife, Veronica? Don’t you think ‘Business first. We’ve made a profit of eighty-seven thousand dollars on the tim- ber and of eighty thousand on the mill. That’s a hundred sixty-seven thousand to the good. Add that to the original fam- ily fortune—the mill itself less the fifty thousand in debts of various kinds, and the Peters family have in cash, two hundred eighty-seven thousand dollars. And every dollar of it is out of work. We've got to give it a job.” “Darn the money,” he said. ‘‘ You listen to me now. Are you going to marry me, and when? I want to know this minute.” “Young men,” she said, waggling her bobbed hair, ‘‘when they are wishful of marrying young women, sometimes men- tion the state of their hearts.” “Veronica, if you'll step behind that clump of young spruce I'll give you a full and exact inventory of every heartbeat I’ve had for a month. Every one of them has ticked off your name.” “Um. Mine’s done some ticking, too, Ted. So—well, somebody’s got to hely you invest all ‘that money, and it might as we ‘ll be I.”’ “It might,” said Ted, and just then they rounded the corner of the spruce thicket where not a lumberjack in the woods could see. Presently they walked toward home “Ted,” said Veronica, ‘‘I've planned our wedding trip.” “Yes? Starting when?” “I’m ready now,” she said characteris- tically. “It'll bea wonderful trip. We'll go to Maine. Before we come back we'll have located the timber we want and be ready to start a new mill when we start our house- kee epin a *¢ ombining business and pleasure! “That,’”’ said Veronica severely, ‘‘is the way all marriages should be arranged.” use of our article: Table of Contents January 28, 1922 Cover Design by Clark Fay SHORT STORIES PAGE Eight Million Bubhles—J. P. Marquand i s The Heavier Weight —A/bert Payson Terhune . 2 Dust in the Eye—Clarence Budington Kelland 14 The Black Angel — Hugh Wiley 16 ARTICLES } The Theater and the Law—William McAdoo ., F 6 | Shutting the Sea Gates— Kenneth L. Roberts 11 The Print of My Remembrance— Augustus Thomas 18 When the Shoe Begins to Pinch— Edward Hungerford 23 SERIALS The Winter Bell (In three parts)— Henry Milner Rideout ; 3 The Driver (Conclusion)—-Garet Garrett . ; me 20 DEPARTMENTS Editorials 22 Sense and Nonsense 97

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WEALTH which you have helped create remertayees prairies, vast forests, broad rivers, rich beds of ore Jefferson bought them from Napoleon 1,000,000 square miles — by the Louisiana Purchase. The price was four cents an acre. What has changed this trackless waste into a priceless empire Men and women and railroads. Prairies and forests and mines become wealth only when there are people to convert them to Forrest F. Draypven, President THE SATURDAY EVENING POST If every wife knew what every widow knows, every hushand would be insured use, and railroads to transport their products to the markets of the world. Try to picture what the United States and (Canada would be if there were no railroads; then remember that you have been one of the millions of railroad builders. For their cost of construction and subsequent improvement has been provided to a large extent by the sale of bonds, secured by mortgages on tracks, bridges, stations and terminals, locomotives and cars. Prudential has invested millions of dollars in these bonds. So the service which unifies America is, in part, your service; in the wealth-creating work of the railroads your savings are at work. The Prudential Insurance Company of America Incorporated under the laws of the State of New Jersey Home Orrice, Newark, N. J.

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04 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST NTO the gleaming machinery of auto- mobile factories go metals, woods and fabrics. Automatic tools whirr, giant ham- mers thud, saws, drills and grinders hum as their skilled operators transform forgings, castings, sheets and bars into fleet) and beautiful motor cars. Only the perfect co-ordination of many men, machines and operations maintains the high standard of efficiency necessary in such plants. And, because reliable, dependable power is a prerequisite, scores of the leading manufacturers of automobiles and auto- mobile equipment have equipped their factories with Robbins & Myers Motors. ne? spanned e m4, January 28,1922 Mounted overhead, aground or directly upon tools — wherever efficiency and convenience direct— these reliable Robbins & Myers power units deliver unt roubled, economical service that gratifies owners and workmen. Ample, uninterrupted power that speeds all work and eliminates break-down delays is obtained at a minimum cost by the use of ReM Motors. Power problems of any factory, in any in- dustry, can be simplified by a survey of the records established by Robbins AN Myers Motors in similar work. R&M Motors are made for all services; sizes range from '/1 to 75 horsepower, inclusive. Robbins & Myers Motors and Fans THE ROBBINS & MYERS COMPANY : SPRINGFIELD, OHIO:- BRANTFORD, ONT Some of the well known automobile and motor car equipment manufacturers using R & M Motors are: Republ Pruck Ce Alma, Mict Barley Motor Car ¢ Dodge Brother Detroit, Mict Kalamazc Mict Packard Motor Car ¢ American Wood Rim ¢ Detroit, Mict Onaway, Mict Buick Motor C« Flint, Mic Fiske Rubber Co. Chicopee Palls,Ma Ch let Motor ¢ Vlir M Kardell Tractor & Tr k ( npion Ignition Co., Flint, M St. Louis, M Dort M r cx Flint, Mict Traffic Motor TruckCo., St.I Mo WF. Stewart ¢ Li it, M B. FF. Goodrich Co Akron, OF The H lonia r Rubbe Akron, Ohi ayn Co Mille r Ce Grand Rapids, Mich Owen Tire & Rubber Co., Bedford, Ohi We gladly refer you to other users of R & Falls Rubber ¢ Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio Lexington Motor Car Cx Ansted Dayton Engineering Laboratories ¢ Engine Works, Conner le, In Ly »), Dayton, Ohi Prest-O-Lite Co., Indiana Ind Willys ¢ n, I ria, Ol R t. H. Hassler Ind apo In Mason r ¢ Ken Logansport Auto b ( Kell rs k « Logar or ! sprin I wport Body ¢ I I Budd Wt A r Gear ¢ M I Phil Mfg. ¢ Plaint J Ww on Phila hia, Pa Stewart-Warner Speedometer ¢ erci ito ¢ Lexington, K Chicago, Ill M Motors in your locality or special industry — en 4 ee oy SE Se ’

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NN for fine bel Kitchenware, etc. i b Sh } ‘y , , Ly Principal USES Y ; : ; ' of Bon Ami 4 br don t sce why people say it O hard to Keep , fa? ani aiid Y , , ' ' f : he polished parts of aluminum pots and pans new q and shining. I’m sure thes wouldn't thi so il I lt | i ame | , + ‘ they’d use Bon Ami. Vln AA . ‘ ‘\ i i ’ | , cute \\ \ ' It’s truly amaz ne how it restores the lustre wit! 12 ( if never a scratch to mar its beauty. \ ; | Kb }) * + ) * 1 1 4 Bon \mi Mal touct MAK ectric COOKING | ; = aS ee ee , ; yi} ULCNSHIS GION HWKE PO] rec) STEVE rm core narkwin — 4 7 \A i j kling that smooth, casv-to-ciean surface on COppcr’r, ’ | Cak - or Powder , ' Powder enamel and agateware '

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inter days invite your KODAK y dutographic Kodaks az Vvour Dealer’ Eastman Kodak Company Rochester, N. Y. The Kodak City