The Saturday Evening Post 1922-04-29: Vol 194 Iss 44

Page 1

THE SA TURDA Y | EVEN@G POST Wee} 6y Bené« nklin APRIL 29,1922 bay ear x Vol. 194, No. 44. Published weekly at Philadelphia. Encered as second Novenit 18, 1879, at the Post Ofice at Philadelphsa, under the Act of Marc ~ he 1879. In This Number GEORGE PATTULLO —-DANA BURNET- MARGUERITE CURTIS RICHARD CONNELL =—EVERETT RHODES CASTLE=—JULIAN STREET

Page 2

BRAND | QUALITY ie CANNED FRUITS PHSGETABLES AND. MOOD SPECIALTIES. _— a ARES: a crowing bodies need fruit every day You can’t serve it too often to children — especially at this sea- son of the year. After the long winter months, when heavy energy-creating foods are so likely to have usurped first place in the diet, young and old alike need fruit more than at any other time. Its tempt- ing flavor — its natural sugar and tonic mineral salts are just the elements needed to sharpen the appetite and keep the body fit and ready for strenuous work or play. And think how easy, how economical it now is to make fruit a part of your daily menu—in season or out of season—all the year round. This is the priceless service that Det Monte offers in many delicious varieties — each one the finest of its kind — each ready to serve whenever you want it— without preparation or trouble —in hundreds of different, palate tempting ways. Prove the healthfulness and deliciousness of Det Monte Canned Fruits by serving them often. And let their fine flavor and nat- ural fresh delicacy be a constant reminder of the endless menu opportunity of the whole Det Monte line — canned fruits, vege- tables and food specialties — for thrifty year-round service. Del Monte makes Summer last year long

Page 3

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Bonded for 20 and 10 Years sal qa tstt-t 4 i = ; 3 z ea | it teh: ai "| Barrett Specification 20-year Bonded Roof on Corlett | School, Cleveland, Ohio.’ Arch.: W.R. McCornack. Gen’! Cont.: C. N. Griffin Co. Roofer: The Rudolph & Son Co., Cleveland, Ohio. Barrett Specification 20-year Bonded Roof on Hasel- del School, Cleveland, Ohio. Arch.: W. R. McCor- nack. Gen'l Cont.: Reaugh Construction Co. Roof- er: The Rudolph & Son Co., Cleveland, Ohio. Barrett Specification 20- Py year Bonded Roof on— Above: East Clark School, Cleveland, Ohio. Gen'l Cont.: Jas. H. Wells. Roofer: Norton Bros., ’ ? wu Cleveland, Ohio, Left: Addison’ School, Cleveland, Ohio. Arch.: W.R. McCornack, Gen'l Cont.: C. N. Griffin Co. Roofer: The Rudolph & Son Co., Cleveland, Ohio Right: Miles Standish School, Cleveland, Ohio Arch.: W.R. McCornack Gen'l Cont.: The Drum- mond-Miller Co. Roofer: The Dalszeil Bros. Co., Youngstown, Ohio. ig Cleveland’s New School Buildings om i ie house its army of 122,000 public school pupils, roof to resist fires that attack it, whether from the insick the City of Cleveland has provided many splendid or the outside of the building. Barrett Specification Roof new buildings. Architecturally, they are masterpieces are given base rating by the National Board of Fire models of convenience, comfort, safety. And in line with Underwriters. standard practice the country over, most of these schools The Barrett Specification Type “AA” 20-Year Bond are covered with Barrett Specification Bonded Roofs. Roof represents the most permanent roof covering it One reason for the popularity of these roofs 1s, of ce urse, possible to construct and, while we bond it for twenty their unequalled economy—moderate cost, long service, years only, we can name many roofs of this type in service and no upkeep. But another reason, and a very important over forty years and still in good condition. one, is their high fire-resisting qualities. Where the character of the building does not justify When burning brands fall on the slag or gravel surface a roof of such extreme length of service, we recommend p41 of a Barrett Specification Roof, they burn themselves the Barrett Specification Type “A” Roof, bonded for 10 out without doing serious damage. If a fire inside the years. Both roofs are built of the same high grade mate building weakens the roof-deck , the Barrett Specification — rials, the only difference being in the quantity used. Befors Roof has the necessary tensile strength to support itself specifying or closing contract for a Barrett Specificat over a large area, thus effectively blanketing the fire. Roof, be sure to read carefully all the stipulations in th The degree of fire protection afforded by a roof is not Specication, determined by the character of any one ingredient of the Full details regarding these Bonded Roofs and copi f roofing material, but by the ability of the completed the Barrett Specifications sent free on request. ~ Company New York Chica Philadelpt New Orleans Birmingham Kansas City Minneayx Dalla yra r Peoria Atlant I) t et Salt Lake City Bangor Washington Johnstown Lebanon 0 Mw Milwaukee loled ‘ Richmond Latrobe Bethlehem Elizabeth Buffalo Saltimore Or ‘ H I) f ol Jacksonville THE BARRETT COMPANY, Limited: Montreal Toronto Winnipeg TT tte. \ Vancouver St. John, N. B Halifax Barrett Specification 20-year Bonded Roof on Em- pire School, Cleveland, Ohio. Arch: W. R. Me Cornack. Gen'l Cont Alexander Bro Roofers: The Rudolph & Son Co., Cleveland, Ohio. Barrett Specification 20-year Bonded Roof on West Technical High School, Cleveland, Ohio Gen'l Cont.: C. N. Griffin Co., Cleveland, Ohio

Page 4

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST April 29, 1922 Seer CR e: ee) . (eas os Ce ee Pelee ~ How a single soap does double duty Do you know this: will quickly wash your husband’s shirt cuffs—without boiling or The grocers of the country hard rubbing—and preserve the sell more P and G The White colors. Naphtha Soap than any other With P and G The White Naph- soap? tha Soap, you can remove the light surface soil from a white — een tn ig Why? piqué collar and the playground Because you, the women of grime from your children’s clothes the country, have learned to get —with equal promptness and the speed of naphtha soap, com- safety. bined with the safety of white P and G The White Naphtha laundry soap—by using P andG Soap is a complete soap for laun- The White Naphtha Soap. dry, dishes, woodwork, floors The ees etn ef Pond G The and all other general household White Naphtha Soap that safely cleaning. Itdoes so many things washes your precious table linens supremely well! Not merely a white laundry soap— Not merely a naphtha soap— fo : spe e d But the best features of both, combined. and safety

Page 5

eee ene or ng gt tl a eT OO ICON — Published Weekly Company Cyrus H. K. Curtis, President C. HM. Ludington, Vice-President and Treasurer P. S. Collins, General Business Menager Welter D. Fuller, Secretary Williem Boyd, Advertising Director Independence Square, Philadelphie London: ©, Henrietta Street Covent Garden, W. C. George Horace Lorimer The Curtis Publishing TH. E SA 7 URDA Y Churehall Williams. 1.8. Bigelow 4 .W. Neall, Arthur Mc fleogh, T. B.Costain, Associate Editors Entered as Second-Class Matter, November th, 1579, at the Post Office at Philedelphie, Under the Act of Merch 3, i879 Founded A’D' 1728 Sy Benj. Franklin Copyright, 1922, by The Curtis Publishing Company in the United States and Great Britain Title Registered in U. S. Patent Office end in Foreign Countries Additional Entry as Second-Clase Matter H at Columbus, Ohio, at Decatur, Hlinota, at Chicago, Ilinois, and at Indianapolis, lad Fantered as Second-Class Matter at the Post-Office Department, Ottewa, Canaca | THE coPpYr Volume 194 dc. 10c. in Canada PHILADELPHIA, PA., APRIL 29, 1922 $2.00 THE YEAR Number 44 by Subserintion N PRESENTING some unknown facts of what went on behind the scenes while the ne Imside Story of the By GEORGE PATTULLO it is always seeking to di rect their efforts. The first step in world politics is to learn to view dealings with United States was joined with the Allies for the de- feat of Germany I am ac- tuated by more pressing considerations than any historical value such narra- tion may possess. The governments with which we were so lately associated have not ceased their ef- forts to tie us by close alli- ance. Their campaigns to mold American opinion are still persistent and all per- vasive. Under date of March fifth, newspaper dis- patches from Washington announced that the extent and influence of foreign propaganda had grown so great since the war that the Federal Government planned an inquiry. Every resource has been employed to entice Amer- ica into participation in Europe’s postwar troubles. All sorts of propositions, both economic and _ polit- ical, have been advanced, and usually in a guise that hid the real motive, making refusal hard and ungra- cious; month in and month out, since 1914, we have been carefully instructed in our duty by the mouth- pieces of the Allied na- tions; and at this writing everybody is wondering with some uneasiness what new proposals to enlist American aid will come out of the next conference. That the United Statcs —— —— other powers in the light of business transactions. In every crisis and in every war the people con- cerned have seldom been really informed. They have learned only what the inner circles who controlled governments and nationa! effort deemed fit to hand out to them—which infor- mation has been plentiful enough in the direction of stimulating united action, but has generally been meager of facts and, when not brazen distortions of truth, either lacking in any indication of motives or camouflaging them. In the Dark AD history always told the whole truth, in- stead of being largely what Napoleon dubbed it—a fable agreed upon—the peoples of the earth might have attained by now toa knowledge of one another and an attitude toward in ternational relations which would render military alli- ances unnecessary and war- fare so abhorrent that no nations or combinations of them dare undertake it An extraordinary, sedu- lously nursed traditicn has contributed to the success ful effort to keep the peoples in the dark. This tradition imposes the idea that in any international under- cannot hold aloof is ac- cepted by every American citizen who views the situa- tion free from blind adherence to the outworn policy of no association. Willy-nilly, this country must take its place at whatever council table disposes of world problems. Development made impossible and the war definitely ended our comfortable isolation. But in joining with other nations in such settlements the American people are entitled to know what sort of treatment they may expect from those with whom they will have to deal; they should be alive to the motives that may move those who would enlist their aid. For five years sentimentalism and a hysteria bred of war ferver have clouded their minds when considering our foreign problems, and it has become imperative that they should approach European contact with clear eyes. PYRIGHT @Y COMMITTEE ON PUBLIC INFORMATION, WASHINGTON, 0. C International Politics Based on Big Business ND soI venture to write of a series of happenings whose recital may prove instructive and therefore assist in a return to that sanity and common sense which formerly dis- tinguished our attitude toward foreign nations, but from which we have been stampeded by misdirected idealism and the propaganda of those who thought to profit from it. Americans are generally given credit for shrewdness and hardheadedness in the con- duct of their business affairs; yet they suddenly grow mushy and maudlin in their thought on international relations. Why? International politics is nothing but business on a colossal scale. No matter what floods of patriotism and sacrifice are let loose in the hot rush of war, behind the moves in the final settlements is the cool hand of selfish interest; even when the peoples are flaming with high resolve and forgetfulness of self, Clemenceau and Pershing taking it is highly improper to divulge a word of what transpires, beyond the formal communiqués. Should any government or diplomat do so, it or he is instantly held up to execration. Such conduct is shocking, rotten bad form; every gun of the old order’s artillery is turned loose on the luckless offender. And in the smoke screens they create the important facts of such disclosures are blurred and public attention is di- verted from the real issue and focused on this heinous offense against the fine traditions of diplomacy. As though any individual’s conduct or fate weighed one iota against the terrible necessity of a people learning every fact of an effort which may demand from them thousands of lives and billions of treasure! The thought back of this tradition seems to me to be on a par with the recent plaint of some rascally oil promoters who being thrown into sudden bankruptcy and jail, clamored that their nice business had been ruined by the publicity given it by the press. From the day the outbreak of war, in 1914, rendered American support of vital im- portance to the combatants the American people were subjected to organized, unflagging campaigns by the European powers to secure their help. That was natural enough and only what we expected. Then in 1917 the United States declared a state of war with Germany, and the need for concerted effort to line us up with the Allies ended. From then on it became a silent struggle between Great Britain and France to bring the United States under tutelage. As usual in the international game, the British were first with a concrete proposal for the employment of the American effort. The United States got into the war in April; the French Military Mission outlined a week later some general suggestions as to what form American participation ought to take, and on April twenty-seventh Marshal Joffre

Page 6

THE asked that one division be dis- patched at once for the moral effect; but on May fifth Major Bridges, of the British Mission to this country, wrote a letter to Major Gen, Hugh L. Seott, then chief of the General Staff of the United States Army, requesting that 600,000 un- trained men be sent at once to England for training there, later to be drafted into the British armies in France “If you ask me how your force could most quickly make itself felt in Europe,” wrote General Bridges, “1 would say by sending 500,000 untrained men at once to our depots in England to be trained there, and drafted into our armies in France. This isthe view alike of our Commander in Chief in France and the Chief of the Imperial General Staff Sir Douglas Haig and Sir William tobertson-—their reasons being that we are short cf men, the war is at a critical stage when we may yet be able ¢o turn the scale and force a decision during the summer, and Every Day Counts. Our recruits are put into the field after 9 weeks’ training in England and 9 days in France, and give a good account of themselves. With your intelligent men under our system and instructions this would be found ample. In no other way could those 500,000 men make their presence felt before what we call the fighting season is over for the year.” British Arms Recommended io OTH Sir Douglas Haig and Sir William Robertson 4? however recognize the difficulties attending such a course in view of the fact that you are engaged in raising a national army. However I put it forward for your con- sideration whether in view of your enormous man-power you cannot do both, in which case the drafts sent us could eventually be drafted back into the U, S. Army and would be a good leaven of seasoned men. “The sight of the Stars and Stripes on this continent will make a great impression on both sides. It will be as good as a tactical victory in its moral effect { would like to see one of your regular divis SATURDAY EVENING POST April 29,1922 PHO BY INTERNAT Doughboys in Mass Formation at a Review Before Beigian Royalty, Chaumont, France France at once, with 50 per cent re- enforcements following closely.” After arguing for the adoption of the English rifle and the English 18-pounder gun and 4.5 howitzer, in preference to French armament—General Bridges impressed upon General Scott that Great Britain could supply all of these that the United States troops might re- quire—he went on: “It appears to me that the above considerations may have some weight in the decision of your gov- ernment as to whether your initial forces are directed to the care of our army or tothe French. The French may be able to promise a separate line of supply for a small force. I understand they are COPYRIGHT BY UNDERWOOD & UNDERWOOD, NEW YORK CITY On Their Way to the Front. extremely anxious to have your army with them, and they are probably willing to sacrifice a good deal to this end. I feel certain that Sir D. Haig could not promise this, but would stipulate that your divisions would have to come into line with ours as regards ammunition supply. If with the French you would probably want your own food supply also.” Some Practical Details “A FEW other points occur to me in this connection. You will have the language difficulty to contend with if your divisions go to the French. The French have very few English-speaking officers; not so many as they think A good instructor can indeed seldom speak English, and men will soon get tired of being instructed through inter- preters. A British Band in the Background

Page 7

( “We have been told that the sentiment in this country is in favor of fighting with and for the French. We under- stand this sentiment, and I am sure our Government would wish nothing better. At the same time, as I think I have made it clear, there are serious military disadvantages, and you will be sacrificing some of your efficiency for this senti- ment, and making, in my opinion, the task of your com- manders and staff more diffi- cult in the field. Once you had a sufficient force in France, however, it would be quite feasible to place your army between the French and our- selves, where it could, if so desired, be under French di- rection, and supplied by us. “We are all in the same boat, engaged in the same struggle, and from a soldier’s point of view should apply our force where and how it will be of most use.” From the Secretary of War to Major Gen. J. J. Pershing, May 26, 1917: “5. In military operations against the Impe- rial German Government, you are directed to codperate with the forces of the other coun- tries employed against that THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ~ 4 be -* 4 9 § : rio ey ry Te ~ | v COPYRIGHT BY INTERNATIONAL, NEW YORK CITY American Troops Landing at Liverpoot enemy; but in so doing the underlying idea must be kept in view that the forces of the United States are a separate and distinct component of the combined forces, the identity of which must be preserved. This fundamental rule is subject to such minor exceptions in particular circum- stances as your judgment may approve. The decision as to when your command, or any of its parts, is ready for action is confided to you, and you will exercise full discre- tion in determining the manner of codperation. But, until the forces of the United States are in your judgment suf- ficiently strong to warrant coéperation as an independent command, it is understood that you will codperate as a component of whatever army you may be assigned to by the French Government.” The French Program UCH were the orders under which the American com- At the outset it was mander in chief went to France. not contemplated that the United States American troops began to arrive—very slowly, for ship- ping was scarce and we had no trained units of division sizethen. Theregular army regiments which went first were largely composed of recruits. They were placed around Gondrecourt to be instructed in trench warfare by the French. Early in September, 1917, M. Clemenceau paid a visit to the training area. Major Gen- eral Sibert was then command- ing the First Division. With Clem- enceau was General Castelnau. They had an interview with Sibert, in the course of which Clemenceau made a COPYRIGHT GY MARAIS & EWING, WABH,, 0. ( —S —_ Major General William L. Sibert acne ete | talk on the importance of an early entrance of American troops into the line. When he had finished he asked Castel- nau to outline to the American commander the arrangements for this entry of American troops, and Castelnau revealed that it was the intention to place the Americans in the quiet Lunéville sector, brigad- ing them with the French. And then Clemenceau brusquely capped this infor- mation by naming the date September twelfth, only ten days distant. Promises ENERAL SIBERT was placed in a difficult posi- tion, but replied to the Frenchmen that he was ot empowered to agree to any such arrangement. Decisions of that character were for General Pershing, the com- mander in chief, to make. On hearing this Clemenceau sprang from his chair and be- gan to pace up and down in great agitation, delivering an impassioned harangue in Eng- lish on the seriousness of the crisis and the necessity of im- mediate American participation in the fighting. He declared it was not a ques tion of the American troops’ getting into perfect shape—it was one of losing the war, for the strength of the French sol- dier was exhausted, his morale was at lowest ebb, and he had begun to doubt the good faith of the United States, be- cause months had passed and no Amer- ican troops had been seen in the trenches. He had come direct to General Sibert, he explained, because he had been unable to locate General Pershing, and he wanted to make this point clear: The Americans must enter the battle to prove to the French they meant business and were there to fight to a finish. One can sympathize with M. Clemenceau’s heat. Extravagant promises had been made by their own leaders to the French poilus and people as to the help the United States would be able to bring would be called upon to make the military effort which subse- quently became neces- sary. In his published Final Report, General Pershing remarks: “Marshal Joffre dur- ing his visit to Amer- ica had made special request that a combat division be sent at once to Europe as visible evidence of our pur- pose to participate ac- tively in the war, and also asked for engineer regiments and other special service units.” The first plans drawn up by the General Staff were limited to this contribution, but on a scale that would per- mit of growth. Pershing went to England and thence to France, and what he learned there of the sit- uation led him to cable home on July sixth: ‘Plans should contem- plate sending over at least 1,000,000 men by next May.” This was followed a few days later by complete plans for such an army, in- cluding ports of entry and bases of supply. COPYRIGHT BY COMMITTEE ON PUBLIC INFORMATION, WASHINGTON, D. ( Men of the First Division Shortly After Their Arrivat in France During the Winter of 1917-18 to them by the fall promises utterly im- possible of fulfillment. They had been toid that the Americans would throw half a million men into the fighting by autumn, whentherewas not suf- ficient available ship- ping to transport a third of that number and matériel for them, even had the troops been ready in the United States. It may be that such propa- ganda is necessary in a pinch to bolster up a nation, but the reac- tions are always dan- gerous. On December 2, 1917, Mr. David Lloyd George wrote the fol- lowing letter: My dear R. : lamscrib- bling this in the train after a tumultuous pas- sage across the Channel The C. I. G. 8. is very anxious you should place enclosed before Colonel House. I entirely concur, and urge its acceptance We shall be hard pressed to hold our own and keep Italy standing during 1918. Our man power is pretty well exhausted. Ve can only call up men Continued on Page 30)

Page 8

6 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST REGGIE ILLUSTRA TEDO April 29,1922 By DANA BURNET Br JAMES mM. PRESTON HE Menden- halls were a bustling fam- ily. Mr. Peter Mendenhal!, the father, was the head of a large furniture business, and caught the 7:45 every morn- ing for New York. Mrs. Mendenhall, the mother, was a vigorous, com- manding, white- haired woman, who at fifty-five still maintained a complexion and a figure. She was a member of the Foxboro Woman's Club, president of the Wednesday Evening Literary Society, and un- deniably the mis- tress of her own household. Belle, the oldest dangh- ter, after a tenta- tive social career, had decided upon a course in a busi- ness college and had emerged, a trifle battle- searred but tri- umphant, to take a position as secre- tary to a Wall Street banker. She caught the 8:15. Belle was thirty, a trim, plain girl, “Don’t like the kind of pants they wear.” This reply his father and mother—and the three girls— were inclined to regard as irrelevant. But Great-aunt Vic- torine, who lived in town, in an old brownstone house just off Fifth Ave- nue—it was con- sidered by the Mendenhalls most impractical of her to live there, alone with two women servants, in a house too big for her—had backed up Reggie in his decision not to go to college. ‘*Let him alone,” she said to Peter Mendenhall during the course of a Sunday visit to Foxboro. “He knows what he wantstodo. Reg- gie’s no fool—not by a jugful!”’ Reggie did not go to college. “No,’’ said his mother to her friends of the Woman’s Club, “no, he isn’t going. Reggie’s rather delicate, you very neat, with a nose that turned up a bit too sharply. It is fascinating, but dreadful, to think that Belle’s life had been determined by the angle of her nose. Not that she was unhappy. None of the Mendenhalls was unhappy. But we must hurry on with our description of the family. Sue was the second daughter. She was married, quite succeasfully, to a Mr. Treadwell— Real Estate, Mortgages and Insurance, Foxboro, N. Y.—and had two children of her own. They were successful children. Jane, the youngest of the Mendenhall girls, lived at home and did the housekeeping under Mrs. Mendenhall’s direction. She was surprisingly her mother’s replica. When they went shopping together in the family sedan, which Jane drove, people would turn and stare at them, and others who knew them would say, “I declare, Jane, you're the image of your mother.” Happily both took this as a compliment, and would drive home to the large white-stucco house on Elm Avenue, pleased and satisfied with themselves. The house itself was about twenty years old. The Mendenhalls had been among the vanguard of persons rnoving to the country. It was one of the family traditions that Father and Mother had been very astute about coming to Foxboro before the crush set in. But the house itself had never ceased to look vigorously and defiantly new. The stucco never had cracked, for one thing. That was ex- traordinary; but no one thought it surprising. It was taken for granted that the Mendenhall house never would erack, either inside or out, if it stood till Doomsday. Yes, they were a solid, bustling family—all but Reggie. Reggie was twenty-five, the youngest of the lot, and the only son. To say that he had come as an afterthought to the Mendenhall marriage is to put it, perhaps, a little erudely. But there is truth in the statement. Mrs. Men- derhall had had the girls—let us say, conscientiously and even consciously—within the first six years of her married life. She had wanted two girls and a boy, and she had got three girls, one after the other, with a consistency that she had accepted as a sign of providential determination. Then, when she was past thirty and beginning to think of her family as complete, along had come Reggie. He had weighed seven pounds at birth; less than any of the girls. That fact, coupled with an early tendency to- ward childhood diseases—-“If there’s a germ within ten “Bertt"* She Said, “What are You Doing Here?" miles of Foxboro,” said his mother, “‘ Reggie catches it’’— had given rise to the assumption that Reggie was a deli- cate child. His physical appearance, as he grew up, seemed to bear out this theory. He was a thin, languid boy with pale blond hair, who never under any circum- stances was known to bustle. At twenty-five he was still thin and languid, very tall, very blond, very quiet. When he spoke it was in a low un- hurried voice that had a way of drawing laughter out of certain types of people. The Mendenhalls never laughed at Reggie. They still considered him delicate. His eyes were a light blue; his nose was long and sharply cut—a delicate nose. His mouth drooped a little at one corner. He had a skin that should have belonged to one of the girls; it was pale with a clear, transparent pallor that showed occasionally a becoming color. A delicate skin. Reggie, alone of all the family, did nothing, was nobody. To be sure, he mussed about a little with paints; but that, from the Mendenhall standpoint, was as good as doing nothing. Nevertheless they suffered him, and even hu- mored him, because'they felt—it was an unspoken agree- ment among them--that Reggie was not long for this world. He had gone to school in Foxboro, and incidentally had won several medals for scholarship. “Don’t know how I happened to get them,” said Reggie to his family. ‘No intention of getting them. Aren’t they awful? What’ll I do with them?” “Give them to mé,” said his mother firmly. ‘I'll keep them for you. We're very proud of you, Reggie.” “Don’t know why you should be. Feel silly about it, myself.” But Mrs. Mendenhall had put the medals away in a toy trunk which had been Reggie’s as a child. She wept as she placed them among his other treasures. Reggie had prepared for college, along with Bert King and Charley Bingham and the other boys of his age; but when the time came he decided he did not want to go. “You'll never succeed without a college education, Reggie,” his family said to him. “This is the day of the college man, you know.” “M’'m,” said Reggie. “Why don’t you want to go?” know.” He stayed at home, dabbling in oils and water coler and taking long walks about the countryside. He dis- liked motoring; had refused consistently to learn to drive the family sedan. He preferred to ramble off on his own two legs, poking about the woods and fields beyond the town, sketching, and prying into the habits of birds and flowers. Everyone was nice to Reggie. He was asked to all the holiday dances, and went. He danced beautifully; he was rather a decorative sort of person to have on a party. Not popular exactly. You would call a boy like Bert King popular; Bert was a college man, a football player and a hero, even then. But Reggie—well, decorative will do. When the war came, and everyone was talking about it, Reggie still kept silent. One never knew what he thought about the war. Nights when the rest of the family were arguing over the evening paper he would ask mildly for the art notes, and would sit buried in his single page while the others discussed the Kaiser, Belgium, Joffre and the Balkans. His: mother could pronounce all the strange names that figured in the news, even the Russian ones. She had learned to pronounce them at the meetings of the Wednes- day Evening Literary Society. Three years later she was organizing the local Red Cross committee and managing bazaars for the First Liberty Loan. Even after this country entered the war it did not occur to the Mendenhalls that Reggie could be in any way affected. Bert King had gone; had become a captain in no time. Charley Bingham was an ensign in the Navy. Others had gone or were going. But no one ever thought that Reggie It was not until, having been called in the first draft, he stood before them in his ill-fitting uniform that they realized what had happened. Reggie was going to France to war! “My pants,” said Reggie, “they’re too small. Feel silly in them.” That is what he said ‘to them when they would have wept on his neck. Somehow, oddly enough, not a tear was shed in his presence. The parting was grim with re- pressed emotions. They cried later, all of them; and they cried over his letters, which were brief, laconic and curi- ously lacking in martial description. He had been to Paris. The galleries were closed. There was a chap in his

Page 9

| a] a ’ company who had lived in Japan. Interesting nut. He was teaching Reggie the intricacies of Japanese wrestling. There was a good deal of rain, His mother treasured these letters as she had treasured the medals. She knew—they all knew—that they would never see Reggie again. Only Aunt Victorine sniffed and said: “That boy doesn’t begin to be as delicate as you think. If he was they wouldn’t have passed him for the Army.” Then, all at once, Reggie was home again—as pale, as silent, as drawling as ever. There was one breathless, baffling evening when they swooped down on him with demands for an account of himself. “Tell us, tell us, tell us!’’ they cried. “Yes, tell us, my boy!” This from Father Mendenhall. ‘We're proud of you, you know.” “Don’t know why you should be,” said Reggie. ‘Only did what I had to. Didn’t like it.” “But what was it, Reggie? Where were you?” “T was at a horse hospital.” “A horse hospital?” “M’m.” “‘A horse hospital! All the time?’ “M’m. All the time.” “What did you do?” “I pushed horses down a kind of chute into a sulphur bath.” “You pushed them, Reggie? You pushed horses?” ““M’m. Horses.” There was a tense silence, during which the family evolved its own picture of Reggie pushing horses into a sulphur bath in France. “Is that all you did?”’ finally asked Belle, her sharp nose pointed inquiringly in his direction. “Helped coal a ship at Brest on my way home,” said Reggie. ‘Had influenza.” “Oh, Reggie!’ exclaimed the girls. And “My boy!” said his mother. They wept then, making use of the handker- chiefs which they had provided for the occasion. Reggie had had influenza. Of course he would —— “You never wrote us!”’ “Didn’t amount to anything. Light case,”” murmured Reggie. He looked uncomfortably at his family crying into their handkerchiefs, rose and walked out of the room, with Sue’s two children gathered up, one under each arm. They were plump, heavy children—very successful chil- dren—but he carried them as if they had been two paper bags. He had a way of doing extraordinary things in an offhand, casual manner. He was so casual about it, indeed, that no one remarked upon the feat. They merely looked at one another, shaking their heads and sighing with that enjoyable relief which comes of , THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Fifth Avenue dealer. He told them that, dutifully, blush- ing under his clear skin. They exclaimed over it as they had exclaimed over his medals, passing the check from hand to hand about the dinner table. “Well, my boy,” said his father, gravely inspecting the slip of paper, “it’s a start for you. A start, yes. You can open a savings account with this.” “What for?”’ said Reggie. They severally explained to him the virtues of a savings account, “You aren’t going to spend it, Reggie?’ demanded Jane, the housekeeper. Reggie nodded. “Going to buy an etching press.” “An etching press!” ““M’m. Already ordered it.”’ Silence. The silence of inarticulate disapproval. Reg- gie went on calmly eating his dinner. Conversation started up again, desultorily. The etching press arrived the next morning. mu T WAS the second year after the war. The period of economic depression had set in, and the furniture busi- ness was hard hit; for a time it was feared that Peter Mendenhall might be forced into bankruptcy. Then if ever the house of Mendenhall might have been expected to crack. But by rigid economy and a sharp curtailment of living expenses the family managed to keep going. One servant had been dismissed. Only Bertha, the cook, remained. Mrs. Mendenhall, capable and coura- geous, helped in the kitchen. Jane did the cleaning. Belle contributed her salary. Sue was quite occupied holding together her own household during the slump in real estate. Aunt Victorine had come to live with them, her house sold at last, her income devoted to the family interests. Only Reggie seemed undisturbed by the change in affairs. One Sunday morning his father spoke to him about it. The rest of the family had gone to church. Reggie never went to church—no one knew why, exactly, but he never went—and Mr. Mendenhall had overslept. Coming down- stairs he found Reggie making coffee in the kitchen. “Where’s Bertha?” “Church,” said Reggie. “‘Got breakfast for you. Eat here. Save trouble.” “Certainly, my boy. Certainly,’ said Mendenhall, seat- ing himself at the kitchen table. ‘Well, I didn’t know that you could cook.” “Can” “Where'd you learn?” “France. Cooked for my outfit.” Mr. Mendenhall said, ‘Well, Reggie, I suppose some day we'll find out what you really did in France.” He looked at his son leaning gracefully against the wal! Reggie was always leaning against something. He had a cigarette between his fingers. He smoked a great deal, more than was good for him, no doubt; but apparently it had no effect upon his delicate constitution. His father began to talk to him about his economic re- sponsibilities. “It isn’t that I begrudge you your living,” he said after a preliminary review of Reggie’s butterfly existence. “Even now, with the business just crawling along, I don’t say I can’t support you. But for your own good, for the sake of your own character—self-respect, you know, my boy!-—-I think you ought to go to work at something.” “‘Am working,” said Reggie. “Eh? At what?” ¥ “Etching. Painting too.” “Yes, I know. I know. But that’s not practical. At least’’—remembering the hundred-dollar check —“‘ not very practical.” “M'm,” said Reggie. ‘‘Want me to do something practical?” Mr. Mendenhall replied rather testily, ‘What do you suppose I’ve been talking about? The point is that you're not contributing anything to your own support or to the support of--ah—society, I don’t ask you to go into the furniture business sx “Couldn't,” interrupted Reggie. ‘‘No talent for furni- ture.” “Well, then—well, then. There are other openings. Look at Belle.” “Belle,” said Reggie thoughtfully, then shook his head. “Poor Belle!” “Poor? Nonsense. Belle’s all right. A fine girl. Inde- pendent!” Mr. Mendenhall broke off, and added, somewhat de- fensively, “At any rate, she’s paying her way.” “Want me to pay my way; that it, father?” “For your own good, my boy.” Reggie inhaled a most unhygienic amount of cigarette smoke, blew it out again. “Think it over, father. Let you know to-night.” That evening at dinner Reggie announced his decision Hereafter he would do the cooking for the family. It would amount, at the present rate of wages —including board—to a saving of about seventy dollars a month His announcement was received with indignant pro- tests. What! Do the cooking? He had cooked for his outfit in France. That was differ- ent! What would people say? Besides, he couldn't do it, He could. If he wanted to honest emotion, honestly indulged. It developed later that Reggie had made some sketchesinFrance. His mother, going religiously through her copy of the Sunday Times, had come upon several reproductions of the work of a young artist named Menden- hall, whose draw- ings, said the article—it was de- cidedlya flattering article—might be seen at the gallery of a certain dealer in Fifth Avenue. “‘Reggie!"’ said Mrs. Mendenhall. And “ Reggie!”’ said the rest of the family, when they had seized and de- voured the article in question, “‘ How could you!” “How could I what?” “Not tell us?” “Forgot,” said Reggie simply. “Left them with the dealer on my way home. For- got.” A week later he received a check contribute to the family support why didn’t he get a position some- where? Didn't like posi- tions. Well, he simply could not do the cooking! They wouldn't have it, any of them. And then somehow — Reggie was doing the cooking No one knew just how it had happened, but there he was, in his shirt sleeves, put- tering about the kitchen. The attitude of the family then changed from one of active protest to one of kindiy tolerance. After all, if Reggi« wanted to amuse himself Oniy Aunt Vic- torine openly en couraged him ‘‘Good for you, Reggie. Stick to it. You've got a much in you as any of them. "And the incorrigible old lady added under her breath, “Maybe more.” for one hundred dollars from the “Kind of Spooky, Reg, Isn't It?" Continued on Page 106)

Page 10

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST April 29,1922 TROPICAL GROWTH VERYTHING grows K in Florida. That is to say, everything grows in Florida that Fior- ida people want to grow. That is Florida’s specialty growing. Occasionally a few things get out of hand and indulge in some over- enthusiastic growing when Florida people wish that they wouldn't; but for the most part Florida is proud of the remarkable growths that take place within her boundaries. This is par- ticularly true of Southern Florida. The superlatives as weil as the fish grow to surprising proportions; so do the real-estate adver- tisements and the avocado By Kenneth L. Roberts It is only occasionally, it should be understood, that such a catastrophe oc- curs. Occasionally at Palm Beach one is told with hoarse jeering laughter that there are mosquitoes at Miami; but when one gets to Miami he finds no mos- quitoes and is told with cold emphasis that there aren’t any in Miami, but that there are many of them at Palm Beach. And so it goes. If one doesn’t men- tion the Palm Beach mos- quitoes one runs the risk of being viewed with abhor- rence by the Miami folk; and if one doesn’t mention the Miami mosquitoes one is apt to be regarded with pears. The sun is larger and warmer than in other parts of America; and the sky —unless the leading Florida authorities are mistaken in their observations—-is higher and bluer than elsewhere. There are only three things that Southern Florida has never made any effort to grow, These are mountains, snow- storms and earthquakes. If there were any particular rea- son for her to grow any of these things she could probably arrange to pump up a few square miles of ocean floor and pile the sand up into a mountain that would look like a blood relative say, a grandson—-of Fujiyama; and she could unquestionably find a way to raise artificial snow- storms that would make Maine jealous, and earthquakes that would shake out a person's eyeteeth. Since there isn’t any reason for them she specializes on more useful things, like pawpaws and prospectuses and perfect-thirty-four bathing girls and what not; and secures some startling results Take Miami, for example. Before taking it one should understand that there is grave danger in taking any par- ticular city in Florida to the exclusion of any other city, because all the untaken cities feel slighted and begin to thirst for the heart's blood of the one who did the taking. A Little Matter of Climates ACH Florida city or resort is violently jealous of every 4 other resort or city. The residents of Palm Beach speak of Miami as being just a little plebeian. The resi- dents of Miami speak compassionately of Palm Beach, as young and pretty girls speak of decaying beauty. St. Petersburg and Tampa and Miami have little of a favor- able nature to say concerning one another. They only unite to resist attacks from resorts outside the state or to say a few tart words about California. Every little while some fiend in human shape prints a piece in a South Carolina or North Carolina or Georgia paper falsely accusing a Florida city of harboring a few cases of typhoid or searlet fever or of being too chilly for winter bathing. Instantly the Florida people rise to defend the state's fair name; and the low, searing curses that are hurled against the foul detractor are warm enough to singe “4 hog. Every little while, too, Florida gets a chance to slip a knife into her Western resort rival, California; and when Jungle Land Was Selected in 1914, Three Pictures That Show the Evotution of a Leading Hotet at Miami, Florida, From the Time the Site in The Completed Structure Was Photographed in 1920 the chance occurs the air is filled with a deadly swishing sound, due to the violence with which the knife is inserted. A snowstorm in California causes Florida newspapers to spread loud and exultant headlines entirely across their front pages, declaring excitedly: No Lives Lost IN CALIFORNIA BLIZZARD This is the negation of news everywhere except in Flor- ida; but Florida smacks her lips over it with the kgenest delight. She emphasizes the blizzard’s severity by shriek- ing that no lives were lost, thus implying that hundreds— nay, thousands—-might have been lost save for the merest chance. She is so anxious to have tourists realize that she is the queen of winter resorts that she is overjoyed when another resort state is cursed with a phase of Nature that tends to discourage tourists. There is another grave danger in taking any Florida city as an example. The natives of Florida winter resorts are constantly on the qui vive for alights and insults. They are so much on the qui vive in this respect that there is scarcely room for anyone else on it. They occupy prac- tically the entire qui vive. Furthermore, one can never tell beforehand what state- ments, phrases, remarks, words or inflections—or lack of these things—the staunch Floridans will regard as slight- ing or insulting. Sometimes they become just as fretful if you don't say them as they do if you do say them. There is the matter of hotel rates, for example. If you tell what they are at the best hotels all Florida reviles you for frightening tourists away. If you tell what they are at the cheaper hotels the owners and officials of the best hotels curse you bitterly for representing Florida as a cheap dump. Then there is the little matter of mosquitoes. Usually there are no mosquitoes along the Florida coastline between the months of November and March inclusive, because the prevailing winds drive them inland. Occasionally, however, the wind shifts or the atmosphere is unduly affected by the hemisphere or something technical; and the tough, leathery, muscular, hungry Florida mosquitoes are blown down to the shore, where they sink their dagger- like beaks into the soft white flesh of the Northern tour- ists. loathing by the Palm Beach boosters. And if one goes back North and makes any mention whatever of mosquitoes in Florida he is more than likely to be enthusiastically damned by every Floridan as a vile prevaricator. Not long ago the Shipping Board in its advertisements emphasized the delights of winter travel in Europe. Instantly the watchful Floridans leaped to their feet with ear-piercing shrieks of protest. A government bureau, they screamed, was taking the money of Florida taxpayers to advertise winter attractions in competition with their own. The entire state had never been so insulted in its life; and the wrathful cries which went forth traveled all the way to Washington and knocked unsightly chips from many of the capital’s ivory domes. As a result the Shipping Board promised to change its policy, and the Floridans became calmer—though it is difficult for the outsider to see how the Shipping Board can advertise at all in the winter without entering into competition with Florida. But you never can tell. You never can tell. It is about as safe to write about Florida as it would be to kick carelessly at the nubbins on a floating mine. Florida Fish and Fruit UT let us return to the matter of growth in Southern Florida. Everything, as has been said, grows there. There are twenty-nine varieties of palm trees; and one can spend an entire week doing nothing but check up palm trees. According to official count there are 275 different varieties of fish in Southern Florida waters-—or there were toward the middle of last February. A new variety is discovered every week. Unofficial counters say that there are more than 700 varieties. The unofficial ones are probably nearer right than the official ones. There are so many different varieties of fruit that if one attempted to eat every variety in one day he would unquestionably burst with a loud majority report. A partial list of fruits which are being successfully raised in Florida’s southernmost county, pro- vided by & man with a poor memory, contains avocado or alligator pear—custard apple, mammea apple, Jamaica apple, rose apple, Buganot, citron, banana, Barbados cherry, cherimoya, cecropia, Surinam cherry, carissa, jack fruit, lime, lemon, loquat, various sorts of mango, fifty- seven different varieties of orange, a number of crosses

Page 11

| : THE SATURDAY EVENING POST cS) between oranges and other things, grapefruit, eggfruit, dates, olives, mon- stera deliciosa, papaya, pomégranate, Japanese persimmon, soursop, sapote, sapodilla, strawberry and tomato. If a Floridan has plenty of time at his disposal he can think up twenty or thirty more fruits that are fruiting con- stantly and energetically in Southern Florida. One of the unfortunate features of discussing Southern Florida lies in the fact that if one isn’t careful his non- Florida or anti-Florida hearers will sus- pect him of having taken money to advertise the state. They will, in short, suspect him of being a liar when he carelessly mentions the ever-sunny skies and the perfect-thirty-four bath- ing girls and the amazing growths. The whole subject is fraught with risks. Baron Munchausen would never have been able to work up a reputation as a liar in Southern Florida, because his lies weren’t much more startling than the things that happen there every day. But if the baron had sandwiched a few Florida facts among his lies and had tried them out on his neighbors some evening after his second gallon of Dort- munder beer, they would have slapped one another on the back and rolled around in their chairs with tears of mirth pouring down their cheeks, and assured one another between their spasmodic gasps and groans of merriment that there never would be anybody in the world who would be able to tell such downright ridiculous, preposterous, worthless, nitwitted lies as Baron Munchausen. Take Miami, for example. In 1896 Miami consisted of two small dwellings and a storehouse. Sometimes as many as ten Seminole Indians would be seen in the vicinity of these buildings at one time, and the occupants of the dwellings would scarcely be able to sleep that night because of their excitement at seeing such a throng of people. In 1910, Miami had a population of 5471. In 1920 there were about 30,000 people living there. In 1922 there were 10,000. And in addition to the 40,000 regular residents there were 40,000 temporary or winter residents. That’s the way things go in Florida. Once let a thing get a foot- hold, and it grows so rapidly that the general effect is more that of an explosion than a growth. Grass grows with such enthusiasm in Miami that one can’t merely plant seed and let it grow. If one did that the grass would come in so thick that it would choke itself. What one does is to plant the seed and then, when the seed has sprouted, transplant the spears of grass so that they’re six inches apart. A Jump Ahead of the Prophets REE culture is very simple. A small piece of wood the size of a toothpick is stuck in moist sand. At the end of four years the toothpick has grown into a hibiscus bush twenty feet high and twenty feet across. The publisher of the leading Miami paper declares that in some sections of the city the soil is so fertile that if a shingle is planted in it before sunup it wili grow into a fully equipped bungalow by nightfall. Other fish stories will be taken up in another place. Miami surges ahead so rapidly that none of its citi- zens dares to stand still for a moment in order to watch it grow, for fear that he'll be left so far behind that he’ll never catch up. If he makes a prediction he makes a run- ning prediction; never a standing prediction. If he sells a piece of land—and it’s as natural for a Miami citi- zen to sell a piece of land as it is for him to have coffee for breakfast—he is very likely to name a price that the land will reach to-morrow in- stead of the price that it has reached to-day. Heis always moving ahead of the city. The population of Miami has increased 440 per cent in the last ten years. There- fore the Miami people figure that it will easily increase another 440 per cent in the next ten years. They claim that the city’s population in 1925 will be 100,000, and Miami Beach in January, 1922 its population in 1950 will be 5,000,- 000; and by 1980 practically every- one in North America will be pushing and crowding in his effort to squeeze into the city. It is of course quite obvious to the effete and blasé Northerner that the claims made by the Mi- ami folk show that there are some screws loose on their claimers. The Miami people, however, say that the Northern peo- ple don’t know how to adjust their views to a rapidly growing city that they stand still to look at it; and that while they are looking the city grows out of focus. They say that a short time ago the telephone company sent down esti- mators to look at Miami and estimate its population in another ten years, in order that the company might be able to install the proper-sized telephone switchboard. The esti- mators looked, made careful esti- mates, and reported that the popu- lation would be 100,000 in ten years’ time. The telephone company burst into loud howls of derision. “ You're crazy!”’ it cried to the estimators. Mr. Roberts, and an Eight+ Foot Shark Caught Off the Fiorida Keys “Who ever told you that you could estimate? Somebody must be paying you to boost the place! Get out of the way and let us send down some regular estimators!"" So the company sent down some new estimators; and these estimators in turn looked over the ground and did some careful estimat- ing. They then returned and reported that the population in ten years’ time would be 120,000. The telephone com- pany, without more ado, installed a switchboard based on that estimate. But the Miami people claim that the estimators were making stationary es- timates, and that the difference be- tween the estimates of the first and the second estimators was merely due to the fact that the city had moved for- ward between their visits. If they had known how to place themselves en rap- port, so to speak, with the city and move forward with it, both of them would have estimated that the popu- lation would be 200,000 in ten years’ time. At any rate, the real-estate operations in Miami and the word “Miami,”’ by the way, is pro- nounced “My-amma” by everyone except the rude hicks who insist on pronouncing it as spelled—the real-estate operations in Miami are on a scale that will provide building lots enough to go around. A Thriving Florida Industry HE exact number of real-estate dealers in Miami is not known. Practically everyone over eighteen years of age dabbles in real estate at one time or another. Almost everyone owns a lot somewhere that he is anxious to get rid of, although it is unanimously admitted by the owners that every lot in Miami will double in value in a year’s time. Almost every other door- way along Miami's crowded streets shelters a real- estate firm; and whole coveys of real-estate firms are frequently sheltered in buildings that would be considered small by a family of three people. Some of the firms keep impressive-looking salesmen standing just outside of the buildings in which the firms do business. These salesmen are large, handsome men for the most part, strikingly dressed in white trousers, pearl-gray sack coats, white shoes, white belts, white neckties and straw hats tilted knowingly toward the right ear. If one stops for a moment to admire a win- dow display which shows automobiles, diamonds and tax-exempt bonds sprouting from the superfertile soil of land that is on sale within at $1000 an acre, one of these salesmen is very apt to come up behind him and tempt him with honeyed words. It is almost futile to struggle against these salesmen. Unless one possesses an iron will he will weakly permit himself to be coaxed within the portals of the office, where he will spend the better part of an hour look- ing at meaningless maps and hearing large sums of money mentioned with the utmost carelessness and disrespect. Other real-estate firms constantly carry on selling cam- paigns that strongly resemble—in noise, at least—-the return of the 27th Division from the war. They resort to brass bands, numbers of sightseeing automobiles, silver-tongued orators to cajole the crowd, and advertisements that inflame the ac- quisitive spirit of every beholder. When new- comers see a monster parade of automobiles, headed by a blaring band, swinging through the streets of Miami, they usually think, in their innocence, that a three-ring circus has come to town. As a matter of fact, it is only a mob of prospects going out to the daily auction sale of lots at Rubber Plant Park. Skilled and expensive real-estate auctioneers aré imported—auctioneers ca- pable of selling refrigerat- ing machines to inhabitants of the Arctic Circle. People are lured to the auctions by free lunches, by distribution of souvenirs, by the giving away of automobiles. Early in 1922 the real- estate firms who disposed of their land by auction were that in 1930 it will be 200,- 000. Proceeding at that rate, Water:-Sports at the Miami Beach Casino vociferating passionately (Continued on Page 77)

Page 12

10 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST JOSEPH’S COAT the story I am about to relate could be told in a umber of ways. I might, wv instance, write a novel d let Valentine act as the heroine, relating her history sn impersonal sort of way, with a paragraph here and there of my own obser- vations, nicely veiled under the cloak of authorship. Or | might give the pen into her own hands, so to speak, indi let her do the talking but that seems giving in altogether too much to the natural proclivities of woman. So I have decided to tell the thing in my own way, without prevarication, just as it happened, and this naturally brings me to that spring morning when Briggs opened the door while I was at breakfast ind announced that there | AM fully aware that was « lady to see me. ‘A lady?” said I, my eyebrows rising alarmingly. A lady, did you say, Driggs?” Ife stood firm, though his attitude as usual was that of the perfect servant. “A lady, Mr. Magnus,” he repeated after me, not batting an eyelash. ‘I left her in the reception room. Shall | show her in here?” Now, no one except my self knows better than riggs how very strict my rule is about ladies. I don't like them in the home. They ire all right —quite in their place, I think—at a social function, decorative and amusing both; but in one’s TLLUSTRATED B April 29,1922 By Marguerite Curtis GEORGE z. WOLFE great armchairs, made her change from the stiff one in which she sat, and excused myself as I saw her settled in it, picking up my sister’s letter. Amanda has been for years my only English cor- respondent. She is my half- sister, one of the persons who seem born old; even in those days before I left home she mothered me, and hersmudged and incoherent letters, smuggled out of my father’s house by an old servant, were very welcome when I went away. All through the years of my ad- venturous life in America her letters followed me with the regularity of clockwork, a thing I gibed at, angered over in public, and secretly loved. Only once in all that time did she really express herself, and that was when in an unguarded moment I told her I had become a citi- zen of the United States. It hurt her gentle old maid’s heart that a brother of hers should ignore his own coun- try, as she putit. Icouldn’t very well explain to her that America is my country now—has been this in my heart ever since I viewed its shores. She could never understand. Her letters, if they had done nothing else, had at least kept me in touch with some of the minor events in the life of the family. Not that I cared; the family was nothing to me, but it helped me considerably with Briggs, who has the nome — particularly a bach- ior’s establishment —they do not fit. I have never had a woman caller since I came to live in Central Park South, and that this is so is due not a little to the gentle firmness and perfect training of Briggs. No wonder, then, that I was a trifle upset at his persistency. Three questions rose to my lips. I wanted to ask why he had admitted her, whether she was old or young, and was she pretty? But it would never do to let Briggs know that | was curious. The only way to manage a servant is to keep aloof and be chatty alternately. Never let them guess which mood has you. This was a time to keep aloof. ‘Why the devil do you want to bring her in here?” I “Don’t you know I haven't finished my breakfast, and I’m not dressed either?” ‘Your house coat is in perfect form, Mr. Magnus,” said Briggs reprovingly, glancing with the air of a connoisseur at my dressing gown of purple silk. ‘And besides,"’ he added, “I don’t think the lady is in the mood to notice those things much, sir; she is very young.” “Hasn't she a name, you idiot?”’ I shouted after him, modifying my voice a trifle, however, when I realized that he kad gone and left the door open. My apartment, though commodious, is on a plan that acoustically speak- ing leaves much to be desired. After all, I did not want any young lady, however unwelcome, to receive the im- pression that I was a boor. I rose from the breakfast table and stood with my back to the window, waiting, and almost immediately Briggs returned, carrying in his arms two. dilapidated traveling bags, which he deposited inside the door, while he an- nounced in his best manner: “ Miss Valentine Forster.” A little girl entered, or at least for a minute I thought she was a little girl, although as I looked again I saw that she wore her hair up and a veil depended from her bat- tered black velvet hat. She was about seventeen, I judged, and I breathed a sigh of relief, for a very young lady is not so terrorizing as I had surmised this lady might be. The name, however, conveyed nothing to me. Valentine Forster was not familiar to my ears, and I felt that I should like to say something to Briggs for having so inter- rupted the quiet hours of morning. Instead, that worthy discreetly withdrew and closed the door. said testily. “Then I Knew That I'd Done Something Terribte, Though I Did Not See Why it Shoutd Be" The young girl turned to me, smiling, but I recall now that her underlip trembled a little as she spoke. “You didn’t expect me, Uncle Magnus?” Her voice was very soft and beautifully modulated, with a little singsong quality that even after all these years away placed her nationality easily. I hid my indignation at her mode of address—for to my knowledge I have no nieces—as I made a remark. “You're English!” “Of course,” she said in a bewildered tone. “I only got here this morning. The boat docked very early; I—I didn’t think you'd be at breakfast. I came straight here.” Valentine Forster! Suddenly I knew. I smiled and went closer to her. ' “Why, my dear child, I do believe you're Clement Forster's daughter; Marie's girl.” She gave a little unsteady laugh. “Didn't you know, Uncle Magnus? Haven't you had Amanda’s letter?” “T had one from her three weeks ago’’—I searched my memory for something relating to the present arrival— “but it was just the same sort of letter Amanda always writes. She mentioned nothing unusual.” “She wouldn't,” said the girl, nodding her head wisely. “‘ Amanda hates things that are different, and of course at that time we didn’t know ——” She broke off hurriedly, her face tinted with rose color. “But you ought to have heard by now, Uncle Magnus; she promised me she’d write.” Now, I have a very bad habit of not opening my mail until after breakfast, a remnant of a vow I made when I had to open so many letters early in the morning for other people, and now as she spoke I had a sudden misgiving. In that pile of letters Briggs had brought in towards the end of my meal and deposited on the small table near the window designed to hold them, hadn’t I glimpsed a gray envelope addressed in Amanda's careful hand? Turning to look I found the gravely inquiring eyes of the stranger fixed upon me, and for the first time I experienced a sense of warmth towards her. I pushed up one of my reverence for birth that is inbred in all Englishmen of the lower classes. He could never have been so faithful to an American born and bred! As I opened Amanda's letter a suspicion shot through me, and not for the first time either. Why had Briggs admitted this particular lady so readily on this particular morning? Why had he carried in her bags as a matter of course? Why was he even now making fresh coffee and frying ham and eggs in the kitchenette if he had not been to some degree cognizant of the contents of this letter? It was strange, to say the least of it. For once Amanda had spread herself, and the explana- tion of this unexpected visit from a strange girl who called me uncle was instantly before me: My dear Magnus: I have some very distressing news for you. I know you always disliked Clemont Forster, who married our second cousin, Marie Blount, but now that he is missing you may appreciate his qualities. I notice that death or a serious accident often affects our most acid conceptions 0, others. You pretend to have forgotten the family, so I will inform you about Clement. Marie’s mother made that marriage, settling an income on Clement and building a great house for them in Harley Street. It may be wicked of me, but I never fancied that he loved Marie: just married her to make himself financially sound and able to continue his work in peace. He became a famous surgeon and did magnificent work during the war. Two years ago Marie died, and Valentine took over the man- agement of the house. The family protested, but we could none of us do anything when she announced quietly that she had promised her mother. Valentine is the only girl. Clement is the eldest; we call him Clem to distinguish him from his father. Toddy died quite suddenly last year of heart trouble; he was the baby. From that time Clement changed; he began to have long brooding fits of melancholy. Val’'s influence over him was wonderful, but of course we all felt it was very bad for the child. Poor Marie's life had been spent in looking after Clement, and it did seem a shame that Valentine's youth should go that way too, We were all a trifle resentful of the way he accepted her services, until he disappeared and we knew that something was definitely wrong. I am writing this to prepare you for Valentine’s arrival. She has taken it into her head, poor deludéd child, that her father has gone to America. Why? Why should he leave al! the honors of English life at its best to go to the United States? I never remember hearing him speak of the country, and one so cultured could only have felt contempt for a land where the almighty dollar is upheld as a god. I don’t want to pain you, my brother, but at such a crisis I must record my solemn conviction. | ee

Page 13

eS ae I place Valentine unreservedly in your care. It is terrible for her to take this journey unchaperoned, but she insists, and Clem upholds her. Since the war he is so crippled that it is useless for him to attempt it. My dear Magnus, try and make Val realize that Clement is dead. He never did anything different from other people in his life—except his profession. He must have wandered off in a fit of melancholy and been killed. It is all frightful. With much love, Your affectionate sister, P. S.—Valentine sails on the Adriatic,—A. AMANDA, I put down the stilted, old-fashioned letter, and just as clearly as if it had been etched on the air I saw a picture of the driveway at the Blount home that day I'd gone to pay my duty call on my only visit to England since leav- ing there-—-and of old Benson driving up to the house, a little girl seated proudly beside him. “‘What’s your name?”’ she asked me curiously, eying me with sparkling interest as Benson pulled in his horses and touched his hat. “For shame, missy!” the old coachman said. ‘Mind your manners, now; the gentleman has been to see your grandmaw!”’ She giggled and brought up a forgotten dimple, shaking her head emphatically. ‘Her is out; he couldn't.” A provocative shoulder was turned on Benson while she repeated her question to me coaxingly: “‘What’s your name?” **Magnus.”’ She digested that, smiling a slow, dazzling smile. ‘Are you my uncle?” “No, no; missy, this is Mr. Magnus. Wait till I tell your grandmaw on you,” old Benson reproved. “IT don’t have no misters, nor no missuses,’’ the little witch had informed me mysteriously. “They is all uncles and aunts. Are you Uncle Magnus?” “T sure am!”’ I’d interpolated this Americanism for the benefit of old Benson, holding out my arms to the child. “Tf you look in my pockets you'll find some candy.” She climbed into my hold without hesitation, and the little hands searched like busy squirrels in my pockets as she repeated, ‘Candy? What’s candy?” “‘Oh, sweets—chocolates.”’ I wished I’d an armful for her. But she was blissfully satisfied with the little satin box she found, and kissed me happily as I passed her back to her seat beside Benson. “You're nice, Uncle Magnus.”’ Her approval was shy, but the blue eyes shone as she looked me over. Benson told me she was Miss Marie’s little girl. ‘‘ My, she’s a box o’ tricks, too,” he chuckled; “a reg’lar box o’ tricks.”’ So this was why she called me uncle; it was a remnant of her childhood; and I—I had never even known her name; she’d just been a charming five-year-old, a trifle in the life of a young man. Again I looked at the little girl who had been thrust upon me so unexpectedly. Without doubt Amanda’s letter had been on a slow boat and so arrived only a few hours before Valentine herself, and owing to my habit of break- fasting late after a ride in the park Briggs had been aware of the contents before my niece’s arrival—well, she wasn’t my niece, of course, but that word does as well as any; otherwise I could not imagine his admitting such a stran- ger to my home, for Valentine had little, that morning, to recommend her to the outward eye. I can see her now as she sat in the big rocking-chair, holding herself still and immobile in the way English girls are taught to do in the presence of their elders, but with effort visible in every line of her slender body. She wore an English traveling suit, and from anything more hideous I pray to be delivered. It was one of those good but in- determinate tweeds of which the English are so fond, and although its lines may have been good when it was made were good, I have no doubt, for Clement Forster’s daughter would have nothing but the best procurable—it was now shapeless and lackluster. Valentine had evidently worn it during the voyage over, and there hung about it still the indescribable aroma of the sea, that pungent, intangible essence most of us love. Already I have mentioned the battered velvet hat, and her shoes were of the ordinary Oxford shape, which in terms of the English means an ugly shoe built of the best leather. Their cost had been exces- sive, probably, but there was nothing graceful about them. Valentine’s eyes were closed, and this took away some- thing—as I was later to discover—of vividness from her face. It seemed to me, as I looked, incredible that this could be Marie Forster’s daughter. Poor Marie! I had not guessed that Clement really meant to marry her that evening in my chambers at Christ Church when he had spoken of her so patronizingly; the whole thing had been a most tremendous surprise. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 11 She had come up for the boat race with her mother; a pale, rather stupid girl, I had always thought her, with hair of a reddish tinge, hair that in these days we might have made much of, Clement, charming to every woman, had shown her round, and we had a sudden, rather im- promptu meal in his rooms, during which hour I had seen Marie's eyes lifted to Clement’s with a shy adoration in their pale depths, a look that somehow hurt me. Lady Blount had studied him coolly—I caught that expression too—and perhaps it had been less Clement's desire to marry Marie than her mother’s belief that she had better make the best match possible for a daughter without natural charm or beauty that had made the marriage. Because that night in my study Clement had net meant Marie for his wife. I am sure of that, even though he had dropped his lazily patronizing tone when he mentioned the Blount money, and for an instant that expression of caution had come into ‘his eyes, the expression of which I had learned to beware. Well, well, well, that must have been eighteen years or more ago, when I was a freshman and he'd just graduated with honors in medicine. I left England after only a year at the varsity—I'd danced at Marie’s marriage to Clem- ent, but Amanda had forgotten. Briggs entered silently with the breakfast tray, and the smell of the coffee so near her must have reached Valen- tine’s tired senses, for she opened her eyes with a startled expression and looked at me apologetically. “TI wasn’t asleep, Uncle Magnus, but—but the boat swayed so,” “Your mother’s girl should be a good sailor.” “Oh, lam; mother loved thesea. You remember that?” The eyes were fixed upon me eagerly, and the tired- ness had gone out of the little face as by a miracle. I could think of nothing except that her eyes were blue as the sea itself, the one heritage from her father that I could dis- cover; in all else she was Marie, except that she was vivid where Marie had been negative, rosy where she had been pale, colorful as to the thick braids of reddish-goid hair. That awful tweed suit—and those shoes! Briggs had drawn up a little table before her and deftly assisted in the removal of coat and hat. He does things well, does Briggs. I was more than ever certain that he had (Continued on Page 56) Suddenty I Found Mysetf Violently on Her Side, Wishing Her Well in a Quest That Could Not be Anything But Futite

Page 14

12 ERE is Bowser. J, Sanford Bow- H ser. Thegreat J. Sanford Bowser. Bowser, the President of the Bowser Publicity Engineering Corpo- ration, Inc. ‘Let Bowser Put You On The Map.”’ Bowser, director of a dozen other corporations, all on the map. Bowser, from whose teeming brain sprang “The Tuck Truck Delivers The Goods,”’ and “Beardfoe, The Oh-So- Different Shaving Soap, So Pure A Babe Could Eat It,’ and a score more you know as well as yourown name. Bowser, the poet, author of **My daughter's face Was a disgrace, I'd given up all hope, Till, luckily, I tried a case Of Horowitz’a Soap.” He is sitting in his office on the fif- teenth floor of the Bowser Building— Built— Like The Himalayas For The Ages.” It is a vast apartment, this of- fice, big as four tennis courts, and scen- ically impressive. As Mr. Bowser said to the interior decorator who, with sug- gestions from Mr. Bowser himself, deco- rated it, “This Is My Little Work Room. Spare No Expense. I want this to be a place Where Taste and Luxury Shake Hands.” It is hardly less than that. Note the rugs—black, vel- vety and so thick one sinks ankle- deep in them and withdraws one’s foot with a plopping noise. “ Rugs,” cried Mr. Bowser rap- turously, when first he gazed on them, ‘‘Rugs As Soft As A Woman’s Voice in Love, As Strong As A Man's Voice In Anger.”’ Note thefurniture, “In These Sturdy, Beautiful Chairs A Forest Fulfilis Its Destiny.” Mr. Bowser said this directly his bright blue eye feil on them. He had a way of accenting his words that made one know that as he spoke them he saw them set up In bold-faced type, with capitai letters. Let us undress Mr. Bow- ser. In the interests of the science. of which he is a high priest-—‘'To-day’s Magic > Wand, Publicity’ (Copy- right, J, Sanford Bowser) he wil! not mind, but will doubtless assist in the proc- ess, pointing out that from head to toe he is a Bowser- dreased individual. In his own person, indeed, he is the epitome of the craft he so assiduously practices. “There is not,” he will tell even a casual ac- quaintance, “An Tota Of Hypocrisy about J. San- » ford Bowser. I Eat, Wear, Use Only ‘he What I Ad- es vertise.”’ If one wishes to quibble about minor details—garters, let ~ us say, or cuff links, this statement is not one hundred per cent true, but it is more nearly true than most statements of that kind. Let us then, by permission, peel Mr. Bowser as if he were an onion, but re- versing the process and beginning at his innermost layer. If one wishes to be strictly scientific one must begin with his skin, which is pink and firm due to its daily intimacy with Silkuto-Soap, “The Pores’ Playmate.” -There are a number of square feet of this skin, into which Mr. Bowser fits snugly but comfortably, one hundred and ¥. seventy-nine pounds of him. The next layer is of a white cling- ing material and is nothing less than one Swansofto Underthing, “The Garment That Stays Put. Note The Big Buttons.” The feet of Mr. Bowser are incased in Gloss-I-Fit Sox, “Oh, Boy, How Happy My Feet Feel!’’ His shirt is of a subtle hue of heliotrope and, one sees at a glance, is a He-Shirt, “ Man-Built For A Man’s Man.” His collar is unmistakably of the Fitz-U Brand, Ritzy Shape, “Alps in Quality, Grand Canyon in Price.” It is held firmly in place by Triple-Truss Collar Buttons— “Constructed like the Brooklyn Bridge by the House of Katz.” His necktie is of black knitted silk, very narrow and very straight, and, incidentally, ‘‘The Newest Sensation of the Ar-Is-To-Krat-O Line of Toggery.” That narrow black tie might strike a note of sinisterness quite out of keeping with the character of its wearer, were it not redeemed by a single pearl scarfpin, glowing modestly. The pearl is an excellent specimen of a NO- Telly Pearl. “She'll Think They’re Real!” The outer layer that incases Mr. Bowser’s round, but not too round, figure, is of blue and is “Thej Most Virgin of Virgin Wool; From Sheep With A Family Tree.” It has a fine white stripe running through it and its cut is jaunty and imparts to Mr. Bowser’s thirty-eight-year-old being a certain juve- nility. The fact is—and Mr. Bowser would be the last man in the world to conceal it— that he is trying out the new Yale-Fence Model of Kampusfello Duds, and is trying, casually, to see how friends and acquaint- ances react to the new Slant-Slit Pockets and the Hug-Fit Waist-Line. Jumping to his shoes the passionate ex- plorer perceives that they are Gothick Brogues of the Armorclad Line — “You Could Kick A Battleship To Bits With A Pair Of Armorclads.”” Jumping five feet and eleven inches from his brogues to his face one notes that its almost unnatural smooth- ness is due to a happy combination of a Cutlasso, ‘“‘The Dempsey of Safety Razors— A Million Safe, Sane, Successful Shaves For A Dollar,” and Beardfoe, “That Oh-So- Different Shaving Soap,” the sales of which have increased four hundred per cent since Mr. Bowser took hold of it, changed the package from brown to rich eye-taking fla- mingo, had the best baby-head artist in America do one of her characteristic rosy cherubs nibbling one of the luscious-looking pink sticks, and, finally, informed the world from a score of magazires and a thousand billboards that it was so pure a babe could eat it. Being rigidly honest, Mr. Bowser did not make this arresting statement lightly. He did not have a convenient babe, for he had been too busy ever to marry, so, dutifully, he ate one whole stick of Beardfoe himself. ve ~~ a ‘ af es. f cee! - ill Shs Bia ok a * THE SATURDAY EVENING POST April 29, 1922 ONCE AA SLOGANEER By RICHARD CONNELL ILLUSTRATED Br mM. L. BLUMENTHAL That it did not kill him and is therefore pure is evi- denced by the fact that just now he was discovered sitting in his office, gazing pensively out of the window toward the Hudson River, where the ferryboats, mere specks from his altitude, slid back and forth from New York to New Jersey, from New Jersey to New York, from New York to New Jersey and back again, like so many methodical skating bugs, such as Mr. Bowser, as a youth, had seen on the horse pond back in Wingville, Ohio, which village had given Mr. Bowser to a waiting world some years before. From Mr. Bowser’s well-razored cheek it is but a short distance to his mouth, which is, normally, smiling, bland, confident, and to his chin, which is, usually, tilted forward and upward, partly because it is naturally aggressive, and partly to offset a ruff of protoplasm about the Bowserian neck, which follows, alas, a sedentary occupation and the consumption of much Bender's Beans, “The Food That Makes America What She Is’’; Sunshine Tripe, “A Pint Of Paradise For A Dime’’; Choc-Oh-Late Nutties, “Candy As Is Candy”; and Joan of Arc Hams, “From Sty To Table, Untouched By Human Hands.” Mounting upward from the Bowserian neck we come to the eyes, blue, as has been mentioned, but of a peculiar brightness, and alert as a robin’s. Then we en- counter his forehead— high, protruding and rather noble; and above it, his well parted, smoothed, perhaps oiled assemblage of blond hair of that de- cided cider shade seen on Princeton sopho- mores and collar adver- tisements. Lastly one observes his hands — doing hands--manicured, he will inform you in that bell-toned voice in which he always declaims slogans of his own making, by Dazzle- Dust, “The Polish That Makes Mirrors Of Your Nails. Be Critical Of Your Cuticle.” Be- tween two fingers is a Marlborough - Somerset. “Just Sniff The Air At Any Swell Club. Get ,, That Tangish Perfume? Oe Fes reeves = Ron't Ranw It’s a Marlborough-Som- eee ene — ’ When I See It? erset, Of Course!’’ The whole picture at first glance is one of youth trium- phant, for Mr. Bowser certainly, from a distance of twenty feet, does not look his thirty-eight years. But draw near. On closer examination it becomes apparent that all is not rosy with him. There is an unwonted droop of the shoul- ders, a melancholy series of small wrinkles about the eyes, and, for all their bright blueness, deep in those eyes lurks a cankering discontent. On this day J. Sanford Bowser did not feel right. He had not felt right the day before. Nor had he the day before that. For months something had been creeping over him, and he could feel it, without knowing what it was. This worried him. Its secret spring hardly seemed to be physical. He was fond of saying, “I Am As Tough As A Boiled Rhinoceros.”” This was almost true. On the farm back in Ohio he had built up a steel constitution before he put his flannel underwear in a straw suitcase and came to New York and tackled it bare-handed and beat it to its knees. In that fifteen-year battle he had not spared himself. His work had meant more to him than air to a deep-sea diver. He had given the world a lot of punishment in that fight, and he had taken a lot himself. He had won, but, as he sat and, Alexander-like, surveyed the city from his window, he got little joy from his vic- tory. He felt as if he had eaten a barrel of pickles. Things seemed sour. Could he be going to pieces, he wondered. Nonsense! He was only Ma Wieerntn al. thirty-eight. He felt his biceps. They were hard They Stept the Steep of the Virtuous Until Some Wayward Fish Consumed the Bait as a landlord’s heart.

Page 15

at =s But why should even the choicest Joan of Arc Ham taste like ashes to him? Why should he get no pleasure from his new custom-built car—A Dekkar Eight—‘“‘Good Breeding In Its Every Line—Its Motor Has The Gentleness Of A Zephyr, The Power Of A Herd Of Bulls”? Why should musical comedies bore him, and farces put him to sleep? Why should he loathe, actually loathe, going home to his handsome apartment on Park Avenue, where he lived alone in regal style with a butler, a valet and a Chinese cook whose dishes were works of art and whose cocktails were masterpieces? Why should he be tempted to say sharp words to his clients and to be openly cranky with his business associates? It wasn’t like J. San- ford Bowser at all. With a sudden moody ferocity he reached for a hammered copper ash tray and crunched the life out of a half-smoked Marlborough- Somerset, and muttered ‘Cab- bage,”’ which, of course, was ab- surd, for he well knew that the cigarette was “The Hand Picked Per- fection of Ole Virginny’s Choicest Fields Plus Our Own Private Process.’”’ He himself had said so. The fault couldn’t lie in the cigarette; it must lie in Bow- ser. But that was absurd too. He dug viciously at a buzzer on his desk and a secretary popped in like a cuckoo from a clock. He tried to submerge himself in work; but he could not escape himself. That afternoon when Dr. Ned Harter dropped in to pay a friendly call on Mr. Bowser, he found Mr. Bowser hunched in his chair staring gloomily out over the pan- orama of the great city. When he was a tackle at Yale they called Ned Harter “Tiny” because he was only slightly smaller than a taxicab. He had a positive way with his patients; ‘They Were Afraid Not To Get Well,” Mr. Bowser had once said of him. “How’s tricks, Bowse?”’ asked Doctor Harter. “We'll do ten million gross this year,” replied Mr. Bowser tonelessly. ‘‘A Product In Every Line, And Each In Its Line The Leader.” “Glad to hear it. But how about you, yourself?” “Well, not so good,” admitted Mr. Bowser. “Not bad. But not so good. Not good at all.” ““What’s the trouble?” “T’ve got,”’ said Mr. Bowser in the be!l voice he reserved for the announcement of a new contribution to the litera- ture of slogardom, ‘That All-Shot-To- Smithereens Feeling!” He reached for a thick leathern notebook. ““Wait!’’ he exclaimed. “I must put that down. I do the Personality Pill account, you know. How’s this: ‘For That All- Shot-To-Smithereens Feeling: Get Outside Of A Personality Pill. Pure Whale Oil In A Bonbon. Health’s Right Hand Man.’ How’s that, Ned?” “Not bad,”’ admitted the doctor, ‘‘as advertising. But say, Bowse, have you tried one of those pills?” “Of course. Dozens of ‘em. I’m so full of whale oil this minute I feel slip- pery all over.” “Did they make you feel be. better?”’ ad “Worse. But I guess it’s not the pills’ fault,” said Mr. Bowser, ever loyal to a product of his. ‘I guess my trouble is too deep for any pill to reach.” He leaned toward Doctor Harter con- fidentially. “You know, Ned,”’ he said in a plaintive voice, “I can’t un- derstand it. I’ve got the world by the neck, but I’m not happy. I Am In The Grip Of A Vast Emptiness!” For some moments Doctor Harter studied Mr. Bowser. Then he said, “I know what ails you, Bowse.” “What?” “Sloganitis.” THE SATURDAY “Are You a Patient Here?" He Asked. “Dol Look Like a Mitkmaid?"' Laughed the Girt “TI don’t get you, Ned. Something new?” “Brand-new. And almost unique. Yours is the first full-fledged case I ever ran across. You see, it’s an occu- pational disease.” “What did you say it was called?” “Sloganitis.” “You're kidding me.” “No, I’m not,” said . Doctor Harter seri- ously. ‘“Bowse, the trouble with you is that you have a rush of slogans to the head. You talk, think, eat, j sleep and dream slo- T] gans. Isn't thattrue?” “Yes, I suppose it is.”’ ““You’ve done it fourteen or more hours every day for the past fifteen years, haven't you?” “Guess I have.” “The chief symp- tom of this disease,’ went on the doctor in his best bedside manner, “is an uncontrollable desire to put things on the map. It makes no difference whether they belong there. You're not happy till you've coined a slogan and put them there. Am I right?” Mr. Bowser grinned. ‘You are,”’ he said. Doctor Harter leaned toward him earnestly. “You're a sick man, Bowse,”’ he said. ‘Organically you may seem to be sound. But sloganitis is an insidious disease. It will get you if you don’t watch out.” “Oh, doctor,” cried Mr. Bowser, faintly facetious, and yet concerned by the seriousness of his friend’s tone, “‘is there no hope, no cure?” “Science,”’ said Doctor Harter, ‘has not agreed on any sure cure. There are several treatments we can try.” “What are they?” “Have you tried falling in love?” With a snort of double-distilled contempt Mr. Bowser waved this idea aside. He spoke emphati- cally. “Bah!” he said. “Bah! I gave up that idea years ago. Love may be good for adolescent troubles, but EVENING POST 13 my case of sloganitis is in its tertiary stage. It’s in my blood, Ned. Why, do you know I live to make slogans! It’s The One Big Dynamic Passion Of My Life. What woman could understand that?” “You are far gone,” the doctor admitted. “But I've another cure-—the best cure I know of for sloganitis.”’ “What is it? Tell me.” *Rest,”’ said Doctor Harter. Mr. Bowser snorted like a harpooned whale. “Rest,” repeated Doctor Harter. “Complete rest and change of scene. No slogans for at least a month.” Mr. Bowser snorted again, even more vigorously, “No use,” he said flatly. “I don’t know how to rest.” “Then you'll have to learn.” “IT don’t want to. Rather die in the harness.” “And so you will. Mighty soon too,” “Do you mean that, Ned Harter?” “T do. Absolutely.” Mr. Bowser shrugged mournful shoulders. “T’m as bad as that, am I?” “You are.” Mr. Bowser whistled. “I’m only thirty-eight,” he stated. “But, like most American business men, you've crowded thirty years of work into fifteen.” “But I like to work,” said Mr. Bowser. “‘Honestly, Ned, I don’t think I'd be at all happy resting.” “You have nothing to say about it,”’ said Doctor Harter. **As your doctor I order you to take a rest.” Again Mr. Bowser's shoulders gestured a shrug of doubt. “Tf I must, I must,” he said. “Will you promise me this, Bowse?’ ““What?”’ “That you will give up sloganeering for a month.” “T’ll try.” “Good! Now here’s your prescription! Up in Dutchess County is an old farmhouse kept by two elderly ladies. There isn’t a billboard, magazine or newspaper within four miles. They still read Godey’s Lady’s Book. But they raise the best strawberries in the world. I want you to go up there and just lie around and eat strawberries Don’t do a darn thing. Don’t think of a single slogan. Just rest.” “But ” began Mr. Bowser in accents of protest. “No buts,” said Doctor Harter. “Come. Get your hat. I'll motor you up there this very afternoon.” “Must I stay a whole month?” “You must.” “Couldn't I have Lesby, my copy chief, come up and stay over week-ends?”’ “No. I'll leave orders with the hired man to shoot Lesby if he sets foot ~ on Primrose Farm.” ~~ Continued on Page 97) Paes an pea pean TE ~ “‘wake Up, You Black Dumb-Bells. Wake Up! I'm Going to Put Opipee On The Map!"

Page 16

the big man. Of the four sitting about the heavy walnut table he least of all looked the stag brought to bay. Like most big men who look back on sixty, he vas heavy about the shoulders, his coat collar running ip to meet a jumbled mass of wrinkled cords. He iouched, unharassed, in the huge chair, tapping the table before him with a forefinger modeled by many years of toil. With the other hand he caressed an un- pleasant black pipe. He puffed, seemingly content, and little clouds of ashes fell unheeded on his vest. There was about him the hint of an old lion basking in the un, and nothing of the man who needed twenty mil- lion dollars—desperately. Nothing perhaps but the bristling of the wiry white hair on the wrinkled cords. “Well, gentlemen,”’ he said very quietly, “here I am.” Mr. Payne Ashbrooke, at his seat at the head of the table, clipped a cigar with a gold cutter and gazed absently through the large double window down into the whirling mass ete bi was nothing of the cringing debtor about of Wall and Broad. He had the reputation, q wherever Wall Street was known, of being a clever man, and he knew that it was so. The two other members of the banking house of Ashbrooke, Mead & Oppenheim were good men; they might even be considered big men in any other house on the Street, entirely capable of giving orders, of generalship, of financial finesse. Here they were office boys—and knew it. In point of ‘ wo gioried in it. Mr. Payne Ashbrooke was a m , natural bern. Other houses on cne street could sneer all they pleased. They could hint at will that in changing to an American name he had not changed to American business ethics. Ashbrooke was a go-getter! And the grist he brought to mill was profitable. Always. Old John Stage was a case in point. Twenty years back, when Ashbrooke was not Ashbrooke, John Stage was a trade name to American industry, If what they said was true Ashbrooke was still a peddler boy in Odessa when Stage Steel Products were known and liked. He was still saving his passage money when John Stage was a millicnaire. When he was known only to Curb habitués they said Stage was worth a hundred millions. And now look at the two men! One still young and garbed to look younger, the other seventy and dressed to look every year of it. One with the fragrant touch of a fresh carnation, and the other sprinkled with dandruff. One growing richer with every turn of the mill wheel, the other tottering on the brink of financial disaster. Smug old-fashioned houses could bow, frigidly polite, but the answer was here. Mr. Henry Mead smiled pleasantly and looked to his chief, still gazing through the window.. Mr. Oppenheim was eagerly fingering a crisp sheet of tissue giving the opening market quotations, “Well, gentlemen?” The senior partner turned softly back to the table. He smiled. “It is too bad to ask you to travel to New York in weather such as this. But I am afraid it was necessary. Unpleasantly so for me, Mr. Stage, as you undoubtedly know. We-—-we have asked you to come down to discuss the receivership.” The head of Stage Steel Products wrinkled his keen blue eyes, frankly puzzled. “‘Receivership? For what?” Mr. Oppenheim took the cue from his chief. Ashbrooke disliked to say unpleasant things. “Stage Steel Products.” The banking house expected one of the usual outbursts at this point-——wild anger; pounding on the walnut table; perhaps even tears, followed by all sorts of wild pleadings for extensions; hard names maybe; accusations of bad faith. Anything! Instead there was nothing at all, unless an. increased sprinkling of ashes or a further bristling of the scalp was indicative, “Why?” Expecting almost anything, the gentlemen were frankly surprised. “Why?” Ashbrooke silenced his astonished partner with a slim upheld hand. “Simply because, Mr. Stage, as one of the largest creditors of your company—er—to the extent of twenty millions of dollars—we believe it is the best safeguard, [Ek TIP THE SATURDAY EVENING POST By EVERETT RHODES CASTLE TLLUSTRATEDO Br t | ae a af ee prt RR | | “ He Raised His Arms and Hetd Them Far Above His White Oid Head. Jerkily He Prayed not only for ourselves but for the best interests of the other creditors and—er—stockholders.” “But the company is solvent.” Nettled, the senior partner’s voice lost its suavity. “For the moment—yes.” “Not a claim has been made against the company which has not been satisfied.” “Not yet, but ——” “Why, then, why this receivership discussion?” The senior partner knew that this was no moment for anger, that beneath a cloud of smoke one of the keenest minds of American industry was fighting the grim fight of self-preservation without anger or wild pleadings; fighting for time, which in the end would avail him nothing, with a finesse that consorted not with pipe ashes and baggy apparel. Stories drifted back to Ashbrooke—stories of the fights this man had made, of the situations he had saved. But the man was old now and times were different. He tacked gracefully. “Sixty days ago, Mr. Stage, you came to this house and requested a ninety-day loan of twenty million dollars to care on pressing obligations. You did not come here first.” “ 0.” “T believe I am right in assuming that gossip is true concerning your attitude toward financial houses.” The old man nodded his head. “I have never been able to get along with the banking mind.” “You were turned down.” “Yes”—grimly, “You said at the time the loan was arranged that it was your opinion that within the ninety-day period you would be able to liquidate your inventory and accounts receivable to the point where you would not only be able to pay off our loan but place the company in a comfortable cash posi- tion. Is that correct?” “ It is.”” HIBBERD April 29, 1922 VAN BUREN KLINE “Sixty of those ninety days are up. Mr. Stage, tell me this: Is two-thirds of your promise or-—er—hopes ful- filled?”’ Through the smoke came the answer, still quietly: “It is not.” Like an expert stage director Mr. Ashbrooke let the ticking of the desk clock emphasize the point. From the table he took a long sheet thickly covered with typed figures. “Your balance sheet, which we have just received, shows an inventory of raw and finished product amount- ing to approximately twenty-six millions of dollars. Your accounts receivable aggregate twenty millions. You owe, including bills payable, taxes and ourselves, approximately thirty-seven millions. Am I correct?” “You are.” The senior partner clipped his words short: ‘Granting that you can liquidate your accounts receivable, will you be so kind, Mr. Stage, as to state why we should not dis- cuss a receivership at this point when your gross business has fallen from a peak of fifteen millions per month to less than three at the present time? Why do you choose to ignore these facts in the light of such conditions?” “Gentlemen, I will tell you—and—and I’m going to tell you standing up. A man can always talk — and fight better standing up. You asked me to come down to New York and bring my | board of directors with me. I didn’t do : that. I didn’t bring my lawyer either. I just brought myself. The responsibil- ity of making decisions has always been mine ever since the business wore romp- ers, and I guess it will—until the twenty- third of April anyway. In the first place I am going to say to you that after I get through talking—and I’m going to be brief—there will be no further discussion of a receivership for Stage Steel Prod- ucts—not for thirty days. “You asked me how I was going to avoid it, and I’m going to answer you frankly—I don’t know. And I am going to be frank some more: You men think business is only a question of bills pay- able and bills receivable; of inventory raw and finished; of cash in the bank and government taxes; but you are wrong. It’s—it’s a question of boys. Twenty-six thousand of them scattered all over God’s creation! Fine big boys. Some of them as old as I am; boys who have been with me from the start. Scat- tered all over the world from the home plant in Cleveland to Singapore. “Do you think a little matter of twenty millions of dollars means any- thing to that troop if their fighting spirit was up? I know it wouldn’t. You know it wouldn’t. And there is where the trouble lies. Somebody has gone behind the lines and taken the spirit out of them. Somebody dirty enough and unscrupulous enough has dug this thing called morale out of them. Somebody who has seen fine pickings from the bones of a nice big smash! “What have they done? You men ought to know. You are within a half mile of where the whole thing was done. Where the entire operation has been carried out with neatness and dispatch. Listen! Every boy that has gone to work for me in the past twenty-five years has had to go in as a partner in the business. He has had to buy stock in the company. Not the preferred stock, which only meant lending his money at 7 per cent, but the common stock that got the profits of the business. And regardless of the market price they only paid par for each share. When surplus justified a stock dividend they saw the number of their shares grow and their dividends in- crease. Every single one of my boys who stuck with the old man has made money, many of them modest fortunes. “Three months ago Stage Steel Products was selling around 197, and the market was strong. To-day the market is 31, and weak—weak as a cat. And what has happened? I’ll tell you: Boys of mine who were building homes and using their stock as collateral have had their loans called at the bank. Boys who thought they were putting away for a rainy day found, on paper, that their savings were dissipating every day. What difference did it make if the solid value which had been built into that stock by thirty years of hard labor did amount to over three hundred dollars. ashare? There was the market star- ing them in the face. And with the decline came whisper- ings,. baseless false things from bucketshops and shyster tipsters. Insidious, rotten trade lies which crept into the boys and their customers as well. perce et ten

Page 17

ed a — —— a —-- = “You speak of business dropping from fifteen millions to three. It didn’t drop! .It—it was stabbed in the back. You say to me, ‘What hope is there to accomplish in one month that which we have failed to do in two?’ I'll say this much about that: Give me my boys back with their heads up, and three weeks will be enough. Plenty.” Mr. Oppenheim coughed aggressively. He was the bouncer of the firm. “You don’t mean to insinuate,” he bellowed, ‘“‘that this house has had anything to do with any damn bear market, do you?” For a moment old John Stage studied the truculent up- turned face of the speaker. “Man,” he said gently, “if I was sure it was you or any- one else that engineered this dirty thing I’d twist your fat neck till the breath left your body forever! Good day, gentlemen.” Long after the door had closed cold gray smoke wreaths lingered about the place where old John Stage had sat. The junior partner felt his neck gingerly. “Damn,” he swore softly. “I'll bet the old fool would do it too.” In the corner on a small table a telephone jangled dis- cordantly, “That's Spangling,”’ said the junior partner nervously. ‘Somebody else do the dirty work to-dav.” Ashbrooke laughed and crossed towards the corner. “He said it was fat too,” he gibed. Into the transmitter he gave one curt order. “Sell it down to 28—and keep it there.” Back at the table the three sat in silence, Oppenheim the aggressive nervously patting the table. “That market is getting awful thin.” Mead said it more to break the irksome silence than by way of con- tributing anything. ‘“‘A little buying would help us distribute a good deal more stock,’’ admitted Ashbrooke. “But in my judgment it is low enough at 28 until after the funeral.” Slight smoke traces still clung about the empty chair. “Peavy,” said Oppenheim nervously, “had the crust to ask for more money this morning. Every time he saves a little money he gets independent.” “Valued employes,” said the head of the house, “should never be allowed to become independent.” Mead laughed. “I was just thinking,” he said, “we might kill two birds with one stone. Ashbrooke might tell his valued employe that S. S. P. could be bought for real profits. Wherever Peavy runs with his little bank book they wil! probably know of his connection here, and a little buying might come into the market and give us a chance to pass out stock. In—in any event we take care of Peavy’s inde- pendence until he THE SATURDAY EVENING POST said brightly to the boy: “Well, my lad, how gees it?” But my lad did not happen to be a captain of industry in the making with a cheery “‘Very good, thank you, sir.” Instead he gazed with sullen indifference into Mr. Peavy’s beaming visage. “Yah,”’ he muttered. From his position in the golden chair Mr. Peavy could not let this innuendo against a great and glorious world pass unnoticed. “Tut!” he chided. “As you grow older you will find that true, faithful service never goes unrewarded; that er—every cloud has its silver lining.” My lad grunted skeptically. He knew, out of centuries of experience, that they were made that way, one every minute. “Keep the penny change, my boy, and remember that se A burly individual brushed the advice and Mr. Peavy roughly to one side and bawled for a stock edition. But no anger lurked in Mr. Peavy’s heart. He smiled benignly. A gust of raw March wind down the cafion of Broad Street plucked the Peavy derby with playful, boyish fingers and hurled it into the blue haze of hurrying figures. Mr. Peavy rescued it, liberally dented, from beneath the feet of a heavy Italian woman, who listened to Mr. Peavy’s profuse thanks with complete indifference. In the doorway of a darkened haberdashery he stopped and polished the nap with the sleeve of the imitation tweed. What was the difference? In a few days he wouldn’t care how it looked. Through the darkened plate glass Mr. Peavy saw the new spring modes in derbies at fourteen dollars. Yesterday he would have sniffed audibly and demanded of the glass how they had the nerve to doit. In the half light of the present he made a mental selection and commented to his smiling image that good stuff couldn’t be bought for nothing in these days. With the dents removed and the nap smoothed away Mr. Peavy stepped again into the throng. Turning into Broadway he stopped at the first cigar sign, entered, and demanded the best fifteen-cent cigar in the house. His purchase well alight, he once again sought the crowded street. Four blocks uptown another situation wes presented. It read: “Shine, 10 cents.” A man of affairs demanded highly polished shoes. The senior partner of Ashbrooke, Mead & Oppenheim wore shoes in whose reflections a man might shave—but he never walked through spring slush, and he had no Mrs. Henrietta Peavy. Mr. Peavy looked down at his rubbers in deep perplexity. The Greek within smiled and nodded vigorously. “Fine shine,” he stated. ‘“‘No waiting.” Mr. Peavy approached tentatively. “If I got a shine,” he inquired anxiously, “could you keep a package?”’ ‘Huh?” “These.” covered with its unexecutive rubber. to-morrow noon?” The proprietor nodded. “Sure!” he stated. “The check. Ten cents.” Mr. Peavy climbed into the creaking chair and probed for the foot rest. As he watched the swaying back below him he puffed contentedly at the straight fifteen-center. Chances were he would have them shined nearly every day from now on. A regular customer of the swaying back. As for the rubbers, well, Henrietta Peavy might as well know first as last that rubbers didn’t go in the Street. As the brush clicked with false activity Mr. Peavy considered just what rubbers didn’t go with. In the first place they didn’t go with people that got on. For clerks, well and good; even for the general run of chief clerks perhaps; but chief clerks in the confidence of the head of the house, on whose shoulders rested friendly hands, whose ears received confidences for which men worth millions would fight? No. Decidedly no! And so Henrietta Peavy would find out. And she would find out quick. As the bent back ran a line of shiny black about the edge of the Peavy soles he decided just the way the ultimatum should be given. Short and snappy. The way Ashbrooke said things. Without going into too many explanations Just about the way he had talked to her over the telephone an hour before. Mr. Peavy chuckled aloud as he recalled the conversa- tion. First she had said something must be wrong with his head. Then she said that he had been drinking, though she knew the only thing he had ever touched in his entire life was elderberry wine weakened with water. And all for why? Simply because he had said, “Henny, you go right in and get into your black net and spangles and meet me in the Ladies’ Room of the Restmere.” What if it was the best hotel in New York? A man with the world in front of him had the right to anticipate if he wanted. What if Henrietta Peavy was right and Lima peans did cost sixty cents for a little side dish? If they could afford it, why should Hen—— And she could find the Ladies’ Room if he could, couldn’t she? Sudden contrition came to Mr. Peavy. Why, it wasn’t Henny’s fault. She didn’t know. After seventeen years of scraping and hoping and everlasting knitting she was going to know! Mr. Peavy stamped his foot aggressively in the face of the astonished Greek. Right from to-night! Out of the chair Mr. Peavy eyed his shoes critically. Not so long and stylish-looking as the senior partner's, perhaps, but the reflections were Mr. Peavy thrust forward his right foot, “Keep them till saves up a little more at least.” Ashbrooke nodded slowly. “li de: the friendly,” he smiled, “and pass him the word as I leave to-night.” a HAT evening when Mr. Oli- ver J. Peavy paused to buy his evening paper the newsboy did not realize that he was purveying to a man whose secrets were as liquid gold, whose knowledge, locked away above an imitation - tweed ulster, would be envied by men whose ulsters were real tweed or even fur, or there was something else still more expen- sive; Mr. Peavy had read of it somewhere. Maybe it was min- iver. Or was that incense? Mr. Peavy al- ways bought the same evening paper, but to- TL t / there. Inconsideration of the violent ges ticulations of a frayed whisk broom he depos- ited an extra nickel in the palm of the Greek and ran a careful hand suggestively across his chin. “Good barber near here?" he in- quired carelessly. The pointed to a glow of red and white a short distance up the’street. “First-class?” demanded Mr Peavy sharply. “Huh?” “First-class?” repeated Mr Peavy sternly “Clean? Gentle- man’s place?” The nodded violently other Greek “Swell: place! Swell smell!” and grinned. Mr. Peavy nodded and stepped out into the night. In the swell place he de- manded a haircut and a shave and night he bought still another and “Man," He Said Gently, “if I Was Sure it Was You or Anyone Else That Engineered This Dirty Thing I'd Twist Your Fat Neck"’ Continued on Page 36

Page 18

16 The Prin &. 8. Willard, for whom I was serving es publicity man, opened his mid-Western tour in Chicago as Cyrus Blenkarn in Henry [; THE middle of April, 1891, after Mr. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST of My By AUGUSTUS THOMAS April 29,1922 Mark Twain’s Gilded Age. Denman Thomp- son, under the encouragement of his man- ager, J. M. Hill, had elaborated a vaudeville sketch into The Old Homestead. Concur- Arthur Jones’ play The Middleman, with Marie Burroughs as his featured support, my wife and I went to St. Louis, and afterwards to the Minne- sota lakes and the Northwest. We returned to Chicage in the middle of May to see the Western opening of my play, Alabama, which had been forced out of New York by a summer sublease of the Madison Square Theater. My father and mother came from St, Louis to see that first night and visit us a few days in Chicago, where I tramped over the crowded downtown streets with father hunting landmarks of the small town he had known as a printer and medical student in his youth. The first week in June the parents went back to St. Louis and my wife and I returned to New York. Marse Henry's Hospitality NDER my arrangement with Mr. Palmer I had rewritten parts of John Needham’s Double, a play by the English author, Mr. Joseph Hatton, produced February 4, 1891, by Willard at Palmer’s Theater. This rewrite was after I had completed Alabama but before that play was pro- duced. An account of it in this place is a little out of such time order as I have attempted, but not enough to make the dislocation jar. Hatton had put into his play a supposedly Southern col- onel whom he called Silas Higgins, or something of that kind, and who talked about nutmegs and apple sauce. Mr. Palmer asked me to make this character proper to its section not only in name and in speech but in viewpoint and relation to the story. I wrote a character which I called Col. Calhoun Booker. Mr. Palmer, at my suggestion, engaged for the part Burr McIntosh, at that time about thirty years of age, fairly prominent in the Bohemian life of New York, celebrated for his good nature and his willingness to take chances, and for a pronounced mimetic faculty. Palmer knew nothing of Melintosh, but I had heard him tell stories at the clubs and was sure he had the foundation for the part. With Palmer's permission I stressed Col. Calhoun Booker’s im- portance in the play, feeling that its presentation would be a ballon d’essai for Alabama, which was to follow; and I believe that the success of McIntosh helped determine Mr. Palmer to go through with it. Needham's Double was one of those plays of dual per- sonality, resembling in kind The Lyons Mail. It was in- vented and un- likely, and on the first night in New York McIntosh, with his breezy manner and his welcome Southern geniality, would have walked away with the honors if the opposition had not been a star in large type. He played the part during its short run and left it to do Colonel Mo- berly in thesecond company of Ala- bama. After the origi- nal Alabama com- pany played its New York and Chicago engage- ments, and before it reopened at Palmer's in the fall of 1892, it went to Louisville. Mr. Palmer asked me to go there and look over the per- formance. The Louisville engage- ment was in the fine old playhouse belonging to the PrHOTOR. FROG THE £ Annie Russett ALECTION OF T. F. MADIGAN, N.Y. © BE. M. Hottand as Cotonet Carter, in “Cotonet Carter of Cartersville” Macauleys, so dear to me in memory of Johnny Norton and the more recent visit of Marlowe. Henry Watterson saw to it that our first night was a gala occasion, and the men of the company were invited to a midnight reception at the Pendennis Club. Marse Henry was in his element, ably aided by those Kentuckians who have the Southern instinct amounting to genius for hospitality and entertainment. At an effec- tive moment in the evening he got the attention of the party—close on to a hundred men, I should say—and with his arm through mine in the center of the floor explained the circumstances under which our acquaintance had been made and claimed to be proud that I was a product of a newspaper office. Then shifting his arm over my shoulder, a habit he had with any younger fellow he thought it would help, and reverting to the play, the subject of which was the recon- ciliation of the two great political sections of the country, he said: ‘‘This boy has done in one night in the theater what I endeavored to do in twenty years of editorial writing.” No halfway measures about wonderful Henry Watter- son, gone since I last wrote of him in these chapters. With the opening of Palmer’s at this time, the little Madison Square Theater passed into the control of Messrs. Hoyt and Thomas. Charles Hoyt was the author of a line of comedies as distinct in their kind and for their day as the George Cohan plays are three decades later. Distinctively American Successes HERE was in the business department of the theater of America at that time a relationship of forces worthy of comment here. Those forces were then functioning prin- cipally in New York. Although perhaps traceable to mcre remote origins, they focused and funneled through the channels of publicity. The principal managers, like Wallack, Daly, Palmer, Daniel Frohman, had been accustomed to get their plays from the other side of the water. American playwrights, compared with to-day’s number, were few, their triumphs not numerous; but in the ’80’s there had been some notable successes with American subjects. Florence had played Woolf’s The Mighty Dollar to extraordinary busi- ness. Curtis had had success with Samuel of Posen; Raymond had made a fortune with Colonel Sellers in &. 5. Wittard rently with these American plays on the road was a cycle of big productions of English melodrama like Romany Rye, The Silver King, The World, Hoodman Blind, Lights of London, and the like, the exploitation of which throughout the country had developed a school of publicity men who knew accurately what part skillful press work played in all these successes. They also had a thorough knowledge of the respective values of the patron- age to be obtained in the various cities. This experience and this knowledge had come along together with the rapid growth of the country upon which both depended, and while the older managers, content with their local triumphs in New York and Boston, gave their attention to those centers these lesser agents and the publicity men referred to were wide awake to the value of the road. Notable Managers UST back of Palmer’s Theater, both formerly and later Wallack’s, on Thirtieth Street, in the basement of what had been a dwelling house, was the office of Jefferson, Klaw and Erlanger. The Jefferson of this firm was Charles Jefferson, eldest son of Joseph Jefferson. Klaw and Erlanger need no identification now; but even at that time A. L. Erlanger was one of the best informed of the men of whom I am writing. At 1115 Broadway, near Twenty-fifth Street, in a rear room, Charles Frohman had his first office under his own name. He was another of these men. Erlanger’s genius was of the synthetic kind; he had the faculty of combination. Very rapidly, under his activity, there was built up the first big syndicate of American theaters controlling the best time on the road. Charles Frohman’s vision was the supplementing one of pro- ducer. He also knew the country, the tastes of the people, and had an uncanny flair for what would be acceptable. But both men, and lesser ones with whom they were associated, approached the whole theatrical question along the lines of availability and salesman- ship. What were the things for which there was a market, and how rapidly could the public interest in them be created, stimulated and expanded? These two sets of managers, the Palmer-Daly- Daniel Frohman group on one side, and the Charles Frohman- Hayman-Erlanger group onthe other, approached the business from en- tirely different points and with entirely different methods. An ex- ample of approach and method is fur- nished by Ala- bama. When that play was produced in April, 1891, there was ahead of it in the Madi- son Square The- ater but four weeks. After that time Mr. Palmer had rented his the- ater for Martha Morton’s play, The Merchant, and although Ala- bamaimmediately played to capacity and would have rapidly restored the failing fortunes (Continued on Page 43) Marie Burroughs

Page 19

OT until Rita Coventry's traveling bags were in the limousine with his, and she in the seat be- side him driving toward the ferry, did Parrish relax to the satisfying certainty that Rita really was going with him to Atlantic City. It was his first opportunity to talk with her under con- ditions at once secluded and tranquil, and he felt pro- foundly the momentousness of the occasion. He and Rita were on the threshold of great and beautiful begin- nings. Through the Sunday desolation of lower Manhattan they passed swiftly, and having crossed the bay and Staten Island, threaded their way through the nearer Jersey towns. Beyond Red Bank they swung into the Rumson Road, and presently, at Seabright, reached the coast. Over a vigorous sea, white crested and sparkling in the sun, came a crisp inshore wind which whistled shrilly at the windows of the car. Save for a solitary tramp steamer, looking small and lonely as it wallowed toward the Nar- rows under a thinning plume of black smoke, there was no sign of life upon the waters. Surf was breaking savagely upon deserted sands. Bathhouses and summer cottages, their doors and windows boarded up, showed faces as expressionless as those of blind men. A small automobile ap- THE SATURDAY EVENING POST By Julian Street ILLUSTRATED BY HENRY RALEIGH “Ah, no! I’m only afraid that my sitter may tire.” “She’s not tired yet. Is the pose all right?” In imitation of a portrait painter's studio manner he studied her, cocking his head to one side. _ the face a little more this way, if you please so. And the eyes’’—indicating his own eyes At the sudden meeting of their eyes he felt an incan descence. They laughed together vaguely and a little shyly. It made him strangely happy to laugh with her like that Again he felt the desire to touch her hand. This time he did so. She gave his fingers a swift pressure, then gently drew her hand away. “You make me feel fantastically young,” he told her. “Why shouldn’t you feel young?”’ “Because, my dear, I’m not.” “Don't be absurd.” “Guess, then.” Let's see here.”’ proached from the opposite di- rection and scurried past, as it seemed to Parrish, apologetically. Then the road ahead was empty an enchanted solitude. He offered her his cigarette case. “No, thanks, I don’t smoke.” “But the other night ——”’ “That was only to annoy Luigi.” It did not displease him to know that she had wished to annoy the Italian. Turning a little in his seat he settled his back into the angle of the cushions so that he could look at her without turning his head, and as he looked he felt anew the impact of her loveliness. He always felt it thus when, having glanced away, he let his eyes re- turn to her. He wished to touch her hand, but was deterred by a curious feeling of strangeness with her. “Are you happy, Rita?” She answered with a nod and a little smile. “ Absolutely?” He had a boy- ish longing to hear her explicit declaration. “Of course. We couldn’t have had a finer day, could we?” He was obliged to concede the fineness of the day. But he wished her to understand that it was not the weather that was making him so happy, so he con- tinued: “That’s far from being the best of it though. The best of it is that you and I are really going to know each other now. This is going to be a day to date time from. Ever since that night at your house I’ve had a tantaliz- ing sense of knowing you, yet paradoxically not knowing you at all. It’s as if I had an unfin- ished portrait of you—very beau- tiful, what there is of it, but with the rough canvas showing through in many places. Oh, Rita, how eager I’ve been to get it completed, background and all!” “T shall be sitting for you all this afternoon,” she answered, giving him a little smile. “Yes,” he cried eagerly, “and to-morrow, and the next day, and on and on, until ——” “Evidently,” she put in, “you aren’t a very rapid painter.” “T suppose,” he said thought- fully, “‘I shall never finish really.” After a brief glance of appraisal she said, “ You're about thirty-five.” “Thirty-eight,”’ he corrected in a sighing tone. “Well, that’s not old. You may be sure I shan’t let myself feei old at thirty-eight.” “Ah,” he said mournfully, “when you're that age—I shall be old then!” “No, you won't.” “Oh, yes.” “Do you know my age?” “Not exactly. But I have a pretty good idea.” “What?” “Judging by your looks alone,” he answered, “I'd call you twenty-five or six. But I have more than your looks to go by. I heard you sing in Paris the year of your début. Say you were twenty or twenty-one then. Add eight years and you have it.” “Twenty-eight’s my publicity age,” she said gravely, “but I’m really thirty-one. I don’t mind letting you know.” Her slight stressing of the penultimate word gave him extraordinary satisfaction. Gazing at her fondly he laughed. “You're amused that I shade my age?"’ “Of course.” “Why?” “It’s so unnecessary—and so feminine.” “Of course it’s feminine; be- cause age is infinitely more im- portant to a woman than to a man. No one cares what a man’s age is, but everyone is curious about a woman's. About a man they say ‘Oh, he’s somewhere between thirty and forty’; but of a woman they say ‘She's thirty- five if she’s a day!’ Even when she’s young and blooming they'll tell you what she’s going to look like at forty. ‘She’s the type that gets fat!’ People are always speculating about the ages of women on the stage.. When a woman has been before the public ten or fifteen years they begin to feel they've seen her since the world began. It’s bad enough when they check up, but it’s worse when they don’t. If it’s ten years they call it fifteen, and if it’s fifteen they say ‘Why, I heard her all of twenty vears ago,’ and they speak of her as well pre- served. Ugh!" She gave a little shudder. “I don’t want to be old.” At that he seized her hand in both of his and promised that she never should be old. “We'll stay young,” he said, “together.” The afternoon's run left in his mind a patchwork of pictures and of memories. Long Branch, Lakewood, Toms River, Barne- gat, Absecon; the sea, the pines the marshes and the sea again; Rita's profile against the window; her gestures; the quick turning of her head; the sudden lighting of her face; the whiteness of her teeth when she smiled; the grave look in her eyes as she talked about her girlhood. Of all their conversation that was what he remembered best. He felt almost as if he had seen the narrow gabled cottage in Rochester, standing in its cramped yard, between two other cottages almost exactly like it. There was a front porch with turned posts and a honeysuckle vine, where the young people used to sit, chattering or singing, on hot summer evenings. But her father had not, as leg- end told, been a postman. He had been an accountant. This information, though in itself un- “Perhaps you'll be sorry you started.” “It’s Our World. It’s All Ours. No One Eise Can Look at it Without Permission From Us"* important, Parrish found grati- fying, because it pointed to the

Page 20

18 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST unreliability of all rumors concerning Rita. People like to tell exaggerated tales of a woman beautiful and famous. Such stories suited the common craving for dramatic con- trast, making a Cinderella of her. As gossip painted Rita's beginnings grayer than they had actually been, so it gilded her later life with adventures set on the private cars and yachts of multimillionaires and kings. The picture she made for him of her girlhood took its place in a larger picture representing the life of a happy though none too prosperous American family, in which the dressing and educating of three children was a chief con- cern. It was always a strain to make both ends meet. Neither Rita nor her sister had been able to dress so well as their girl friends. “When ! went out in my best,” she said, “it was always with a haunting feeling that there might be a gap some- where or that my skirt hung badly.” She was sixteen when the choirmaster in the church she attended thought he detected an unusual voice. He car- ried her along as far as he was able, then sent her to a local singing teacher, who, after a few years, advised that she go to Proileau, in Paris, to be finished. For her father to finance such a venture was quite out of the question, but some wealthy parishioners, becoming interested in her, made up a purse and sent her to Paris for a year. A year was not enough to bring out her voice fully, but Proileau believed in her and placed her as prima donna with a third-rate opera company which played through the summer at Trou- ville, where at his summer home he continued to coach her. Thus she gained her first prac- tical experience and earned money for a second vear in Paris. In her third year she made her début at the Opéra Comique, began to reim- burse her benefactors, and bought herself “dresses in which I wasn't nervous every time I got up out of a chair.” He felt that he had made good progress with the background of his portrait of her. Xvi USK was advancing over the marshes as Parrish's car trav- ersed the last miles of the broad boulevard by which Atlantic City is approached, and by the time they turned into Atlantic Avenue daylight had all but abandoned its rearguard action against oncom- ing night. Looking down the wide, brightly lighted yet somewhat tawdry shopping street and into the in- tersecting highways with their close-set rowa of frame cottages, hoarding houses and cheap hotels, Parrish's first impression was that this strange settlement had changed not at all in the ten or dozen years that had passed since his last visit. It resembled, he thought, rather a town into which prosperity had gushed with a flood of oil than one established on the fixed fiow of the Gulf Stream, the tides and tripper-laden trains. Not until they swung around a eorner and headed down a short street leading toward the ocean did he perceive that there had been, after all, a kind of progress here; for it was then that he discovered, in its new sur- roundings, the pleasant old hotel in which he used to stay; but its former look of size and consequence was gone. By contrast. with the new flamboyant caravansaries facing the Boardwalk and the beach, it seemed to have paled and shrunk. “TI used to stop there,” he said, looking back a little wistfully as the car drew up under the porte-cochére of one of the larger hostelries. “Yes,” said Rita, “it’s a nice old place. But this one wili amuse you.” One of Parrish’s bags contained certain precious and illegal bottles. He paused midway across the lobby to warn the bell boy to handle it with care, and, waiting, overheard a snatch of conversation between two large, expensive-looking women whose modishly short skirts revealed the plebeian bowing of their legs. “Trma’s got three hats with different-colored paradise plumes on,” said one, “That red one you was admiring cost two hundred and sixty. She showed me the receipted bill.” To which the other replied in an envious tone, “ Manny don’t seem to kick, no matter how much money Irma spends,” The dapper clerk knew at once who Rita was. “We received your wire,” he declared with extreme affability as he dipped the pen and handed it to her. “I’ve been able to hold a very choice suite for you. Our managing director has had his own personal grand piano placed in your parlor with his compliments.” Rita thanked him and signed the register, whereupon the young man turned to Parrish, assigning him a suite which, though it did not face the sea directly, he men- tioned urbanely as having a favorable position with regard to the morning sun. Before going to his own rooms Parrish saw Rita to hers. Her parlor was large and elaborately furnished. French windows opened upon a sheltered balcony overlooking the ocean. On the center table was a bow! of roses accom- panied by the card of the manager, with the word She Was Sixteen When the Choirmas: i : - terin the Church She - : Attended Thought He Detected an Un: usual Voice “Compliments” written in a Spencerian hand above the name. Before slipping out of her loose motor coat Rita moved over to the grand piano, opened the lid and ran a hand over the keyboard. It was out of tune. After seeing to the placing of her bags Parrish departed with his bell boy. “T'll be ready in an hour,” she said, giving him a gay wave of dismissal. But he did not expect her to be ready in an hour. His experience of her was not such as to encourage hopes of promptness. Moreover she had not brought her own maid with her. In leisurely fashion Parrish unpacked and made ready for dinner; then, as the hour was up, he took the small bag about which he had cautioned the bell boy, walked down the corridor and knocked at Rita's door. “Come.” She was moving toward him as he entered. Her henna- colored evening gown was of some diaphanous material that fluttered as she crossed the room. It was draped with infinite art, and it seemed to him to fit with a kind of haughtiness. He fancied it as being proud of its lines and its fabric, as a beautiful woman is proud of her figure and the texture of her skin. The stockings and the little satin slippers, being of the color of the dress, gave a character- istic look of completeness; always there was that look about her; yet Parrish felt instinctively that this completeness April 29, 1922 was achieved without much effort or indeed much thought on Rita’s part, but represented rather the unhampered art of costly experts. “I didn’t think you’d be ready,” he said, praising her appearance with his eyes. “T said an hour.” “Yes, but ——” He was thinking of the times that she had disappointed him; but instead of speaking the thought, shifted to a men- tion of the absence of her maid. “Oh,” she answered, “that’s easy. I’ve bought up one of the hotel maids.” Parrish laid his bag carefully upon the table by the bowl of roses, opened it, produced bottles and a shaker, and having secured ice, orange juice and glasses, made cock- tails. “T have plenty of appetite without this,” said Rita, sip- ping. He was glad that she was hungry. After the manner of his kind, he prided himself upon a certain skill in ordering, and as to-night he was for the first time to exercise that skill for Rita, he had given preliminary consideration to the meal. First they would have Lynnhaven Bay oysters—real Lynnhaven Bays; then green-turtle soup, provided the green turtle was fresh —he would inquire about that; thena filet of flounder—call it sole if you like—with Marguéry’s immortal sauce: he was sure that Rita would appreciate that touch; then a broiled live lobster with drawn butter, to be followed by a salad chiffonade. Sweets, he felt, might be dispensed with. Crackers and cheese— Roquefort or Port de Salut would be more suitable. Then coffee. The elevator was half full when they got in. He saw a woman nudge the man with her, calling his attention to Rita, and the two stared at her with unblink- ing eyes during the descent to the main floor. Clearly they recognized her. Clearly many people did. Walking with her through the lobby and down the corridor he thought he could tell by the faces of those he saw looking at her whether they knew who she was or saw in her only a woman to be admired. One man stopped and stood at gaze, inspecting her as a gourmand might an appetizing dish being served at an- other’s table. He was a gross-looking creature. Parrish would have liked to kick him. Rita, however, appeared ob- livious of ocular intrusions. She walked among strangers as she might have among trees in a forest. At the door of the café they were met by the head waiter, who led them through the crowded room to a table bearing a card marked ‘“ Reserved,” and drew out their chairs with an extra flourish. “T have had the honor to serve madame at the Carlton in London,” he declared as he seated Rita; and it was over her, not Parrish, that he leaned to discuss the dinner. This was a novelty to Parrish, who was thoroughly accustomed to receive attention from head waiters. He had realized, of course, that to escort Rita would be a different matter from escorting a woman in private life, but he had not foreseen how great the difference would be. Interrupting the culinary conference across the way, he began to outline to her the dinner he had contemplated, but before he could finish she broke in. “I know just what I want. I want a porterhouse steak—medium—about three inches thick.” As she spoke she glanced up at the head waiter, measuring with her hands in exaggerated illustration. ‘And some hashed brown potatoes, and soup—cream of tomato—to play with while the steak is cooking.” “Bien, madame.”’ The man made swift notes on his pad and came around the table. “Monsieur wishes Lynnhaven Bays?” he asked, his pencil poised to write. Parrish hesitated, but only for the briefest moment. Then he duplicated Rita’s order. “Oh, but you mustn’t let my vulgar appetite spoil your dinner!"’ she protested. He assured her that the things she had ordered were the very things he wanted. Nor was the statement alto- gether false. Steak and hashed brown potatoes ordered in this place by so complete a cosmopolitan as Rita constituted not a barbarity but a gastronomic playfulness in which he wished to join, precisely as he would have wished to join in any other playfulness of hers. The café orchestra, which had been finishing a trivial tune from a musical comedy as they came in, presently be- gan again to play. But this time it was Un bel di vedremo, from Madame Butterfly. “They’ve found me out,”’ Rita told him with a sigh. Sia OS Fi _— —_ a Sat eee ce

Page 21

That plainly was the case. The violinist who led the orchestra kept his sad, luminous eyes fixed upon her as he played. This directed to her the attention of those among the diners who had not already noticed her. It was to her rather than to the musicians that people looked as they applauded at the termination of the aria, and to her that the violinist bowed in acknowledging the unusual demon- stration. “They’re pretty sure to keep this up until we leave,” she said. “It’s rather awful to be stared at when you're eating, isn’t it? I’ve always thought the animals in the zoo must hate it.’’ “TI could speak to the orchestra leader,” Parrish sug- gested. But Rita demurred. “Oh, no! It’s intended as a compliment, and I’m desperately sorry for a good musician who has to play in a place like this. Probably this man used to dream of becoming a Kreisler or a Heifetz. The chorus of the opera is full of people like that, people who have dreamed and been disappointed. There’s so much luck about it too. Many’s the time I’ve looked at some woman in our chorus and thought what John Bunyan thought when he saw the man going to be executed.” Over the soup they fell to discussing differences between the careers of artists and those in other walks of life. “The failure of an artist,” said Rita, ‘‘seems to me doubly tragic because the artist is not out only for a living. Being poor isn’t the worst of it for him. He’s in love. If his art jilts him it breaks his heart, for of course there’s no love greater than that of the artist for his art.” “Oh, I don’t believe that,’’ he put in quickly, jealous of her music. “Don’t you?”’ She inspected him with quizzical eyes. ‘Well, it’s true. Other loves come and go, but the love for an art never changes. If anything, I stated it too mod- erately. I might have said there isn’t any love so great.” He shook his head, but did not reply. He was thinking that what she had said meant, after all, only that she had never known a love beyond her love for music—not yet. Certainly that was nothing for him to deplore. Her prevision concerning the musical program proved accurate. Depuis le jour, from Louise, became the entrance music for their steak, and was followed by melodies from Tosca and La Bohéme, while their coffee was drunk to the air of Prés des Ramparts de Seville. After each number there was the same applause, the same bowing of the violinist to Rita, the same concentrating of eyes upon her. When, having lost no time over the simple meal, she rose to leave, people at near-by tables stopped talking and gazed up into her face, and as she moved toward the door, Parrish, walking behind her, saw that the whole room turned its head. The violinist stood and made her a pro- found obeisance as she passed the musicians’ platform; at the portal the head waiter paid her like homage; and as she emerged to the foyer the maid from the ladies’ cloak room hastened forward with her wrap. But no one came running forward with Parrish’s hat and coat. The olive-skinned attendant at the men’s coat room stood entranced, gazing at Rita. Parrish had to speak to him crisply before the trance was broken. Had Rita been a queen, he thought to himself, she could hardly have re- ceived more attention; then with a little inward smile he added the reflection that hac he been a prince consort he could hardly have received less. “Tf I should ever be 2 fugitive from justice,”’ he said to her as they made their way toward the exit leading to the Boardwalk, “I should know exactly what to do. Instead of hiding on some obscure island where they live on pineapples, bananas and rum highballs, I should conceal myself by going everywhere with you.” But, as he was to learn later, that form of self-concealment was not so effectual as he had supposed. Some eyes there were alert enough to encompass both Rita and her escort. By one such pair of eyes—a not too friendly pair—he had been recognized. xIx MERGING froin a revolving door and passing by a wheel-chair stand, they moved up the Boardwalk’in the direction of the Inlet. The night was dark. The moon had not yet risen, and though there were stars overhead they were dimmed by the Boardwalk lamps. Below them the beach was a gray mystery fading away to a blackness within which, as an awakened sleeper may feel the presence of a silent moving something in his room, they felt the presence of the sea. A mild salt breeze blew toward them. Ahead the heart of the Boardwalk was marked by an electric brilliance against which wheel chairs and promenaders were revealed in shifting silhouette. Nor was the brilliance to be seen only along that way of pleasure with its rows of lamps and THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 19 its bright doors and windows; by a ladder of illuminated windows it mounted to where, above the hotel roofs, the sky was restlessly alive with the changeful dotted glitter of great advertising signs. As Rita took his arm and stepped out beside him he was struck by the fact that she did not amble after the fashion of most women, but strode with a fine swinging gait, making necessary but a slight abridgment of his own normal step. It was like an expression of her spirit, that free, elastic tread. He leaned forward a little and looked down at her slippers swiftly appearing and disappearing below the hem of her cloak as she walked —-satin trifles, frail and exquisite, with soles wafer thin and heels of a voluptuous violinlike curvature. “T suppose,” he said wonderingly, “that those slippers are fully as durable as morning-glories.”’ “Oh, they’re stronger than they look.” “They must be.” For a time he was silent, his mind taken up with the miracle of woman's dress, which is to man the most baffling thing about her. For man feels that even suppos- ing he could walk in slippers such as hers they would be ruined in the distance of a block or two, while as for her gowns—made seemingly from wisps of rainbow, sunset and the Milky Way—he knows that such things, worn by him, would not endure an hour. His ruminations on this theme were interrupted when she drew him over to a lighted show-window containing dainty bits of feminine equipment at which she wished to look. As they moved on again he shifted the position of his arm, bracing it behind hers so that her elbow found a cradle in the crook of his, her wrist resting in his hand Holding her thus firmly he was more than ever conscious of moving with her in delightful unison. They wandered out upon a pier and back again; then, having resumed their way along the Boardwalk, were at- tracted by sounds of snapping rifles and clanging target gongs to a shooting gallery, where they stood for a time looking on. The shooting gallery fascinated Rita; pres- ently she announced a wish to try her marksmanship; and when, after a little coaching, her bullets began to break clay pipes, ring gongs and knock over moving models of (Continued on Page 69) “The Point is That I’m Going to Sing Your Songs in Concert"’

Page 22

xxvVI HE purple mantle of the mountain twilight [ees dropping on the hills when Bridger and Carson rode out together from the Laramie stockade to the Wingate encampment in the valley. “he extraordinary capacity of Bridger in matters alco- THE SATURDAY EVENING POST COVERED WAGON By Emerson Hough ILLUSTRATED ar w. HH. D. KOERNER April 29,1922 “ But you're going to leave us? What are you going to do?”” A sudden kindness was in the girl’s voice. “I’m a-goin’ out to Fort Bridger, that’s what I’m a-goin’ to do; an’ when I git thar I’m a-goin’ to lick hell out o’ both my squaws, that’s what I’m a-goin’ to holie left him still in fair re posseasion of his faculties; but some new purpose, born of the exaltation of alcohol, now held his mind. “Let me see that little dingus ye had, Kit,” said he—-"‘that piece o’ gold.” Carson handed it to him. “Ye got any more o’ hit, Kit?” “Plenty! You can have it if you'll promise not to tell where it came from, Jim.” “If I do, Jim Bridger’s a liar, Kitt” He slipped the nugget into his pocket. They rode to the head of the train, where Bridger found Wingate and his aids and presented his friend. They all, of course, knew of Frémont’s famous seout, then at the height of his reputation, and greeted him with enthusiasm. As they gathered around him Bridger slipped away. Searching among the wagons, he at last found Molly Wingate and beckoned her aside with portentous injunctions of secrecy. In point of fact, a sud- den maudlin inspiration had seized Jim Bridger, so that a promise to Kit Carson seemed infinitely less im- portant than a promise to this girl, whom, indeed, with an old man's inept infatu- ation, he had worshiped afar after the fashien of white men long gone from society of their kind. Liquor now made him bold. Suddenly he reached out a hand and placed in Molly’s palm the first nug- get of California gold that ever had come thus far east- ward. Physically -heavy it was; of what tremendous import none then could have known. “T'll give ye this,” he said. “An’ I know whar’s plenty more,” She dropped the nugget because of the sudden do! One’s named Blast Yore Hide, an’ t’other Dang Yore Eyes. Which, ef ye ask me, is two names right an’ fitten, way I feel now.” Ali at once Jim Bridger was all Indian again. He turned and stalked away. She heard his voice rising in his Indian chant as she turned back to her own wagon fire, But now shouts were arising, cries coming up the line. A general movement was taking place toward the lower end of the camp, where a high quavering call rose again and again. “There's news!’’said Car- son to Jesse Wingate quietly. “That's old Bill Jackson's war cry unless I am mis- taken. Is he with you?”: *“*He was,” said Wingate bitterly. ‘‘ He and his friends broke away from the train and have been flocking by themselves since then.” Three men rode up to the Wingate wagon, and two flung off. Jackson was there, yes, and Jed Wingate, his son. The third man still sat his horse. Wingatestraight- ened. “Mr. Banion! So yousee fit to come into my camp?” For the time he had no answer. “How are you, Bill?’’ said Kit Carson quietly, as he now stepped forward from the shadows, The olderman gave him a swift glance. “Kit! You here—why?” he demanded. “I’ve not seed ye, Kit, sence the last rendyvous on the Green. Ye’ve been with the Army on the coast?”’ “Yes. Going east now.” “Allus ridin’ back an’ forerd acrost the hull coun- try. I'd hate to keep ye in buckskin breeches, Kit. But ye’re carryin’ news?” “Yes,’’said Carson. “ Dis- patches about new army posts—to General Kearny, Some other word for him, weight in her hand; picked it up. ’ “Gold!” she whispered, for there is no mistaking gold. “Yes, gold!” “Where did you get it?” She was looking over her shoulder instinctively. “Listen! Ye'll never tell? Ye mustn’t! I swore to Kit Carson, that give hit to me, I’d never tell no one. But I'll set you ahead o’ any livin’ bein’, so maybe some day ye’ll remember old Jim Bridger. “Yes, it’s gold! Kit Carson brung it from Sutter’s Fort, on the Sacermento, in Californy. They've got it thar in wagonloads, Kit’s on his way east now to tell the Army.” “Everyone will know!” “Yes, but not now! Ef ye breathe this to a soul, thar won't be two wagons left together in the train. Thar’ll be bones o’ womern from here to Californy!”’ Wide-eyed, the girl weighed the nugget in her hands. “Keep hit, Miss Molly,” said Bridger simply. “I don’t want hit no more. I only got hit fer a bracelet fer ye, or something. Good-by. I’ve got to leave the train with my own wagons before long an’ head fer my fort. Ye'll maybe see me—old Jim Bridger—when ye come through. “Yes, Miss Molly, I ain’t as old as I look, and I got a fort o’ my own beyant the Green River. This year, what “Molty!"* He Broke Out. “Listen to Met Do You Want the Enga\pement Broken? Do You Want to be Reteased?"* T’ll take in for my cargo, what I'll make cash money fer work fer the immygrints, I'll salt down anyways ten thousand; next year maybe twicet that, or even more, I sartainly will do a good trade with them Mormons.” “T suppose,” said the girl, patient with what she knew was alcoholic garrulity. “ An’ out there’s the purtiest spot west o’ the Rockies. My valiey is ever’thing a man er a womern can ask or want. And me, I’m a permanent man in these yere parts. It’s me, Jim Bridger, that fust diskivered the Great Salt Lake, It’s me, Jim Bridger, fust went through Colter’s Hell up in the Yellowstone. Ain’t a foot o’ the Rockies I don’t know. I eena’most built the Rocky Mountains, me.” He sprezd out his hands. “And I’ve got to be eena’most all In,un myself.” “T suppose.” The girl’s light laugh cut him. “But never so much as not to rever’nce the white woman, Miss Molly. Ye’re all like angels to us wild men out yere, We—we never have forgot. And so I give ye this, the fust gold from Californy. There may be more. I don’t know,” and some papers to the ad- ' jutant general of the Army. Besides, some letters from Lieutenant Beale in Mexico, about war matters and the treaty, like enough. You know we’ll get all the southern country to the coast?” “ An’ welcome ef we didn’t! Not a beaver to the thou- sand miles, Kit. I’m goin’ to Oregon—goin’ to settle in the Nez Percé country, whar there’s horses an’ beaver.” “But wait a bit afore you an’ me gits too busy talkin’. Ye see, I’m with Major Banion, yan, an’ the Missoury train. We’re in camp ten mile below. We wouldn’t mix with these people no more—only one way—but I reckon the major’s got some business o’ his own that brung him up. I rid with him. We met the boy an’ ast him to bring us in. We wasn’t sure how friendly our friends is feelin’ towards him an’ me.” : He grinned grimly. As he spoke they both heard a woman's shrilling, half greeting, half terror. Wingate turned in time to see his daughter fall in a sheer faint. Will Banion slipped from his saddle and hurried forward. ca X*XVIT ESSE WINGATE made a swift instinctive motion to- ward the revolver which swung at his hip. But Jed sprang between him and Banion. ——

Page 23

“No! Hold on, pap—stop!”’ cried Jed. “It’s all right. I brought him in.” “As a prisoner?” “T am no man’s prisoner, Captain Wingate,”’ said Banion’s deep voice. His eyes were fixed beyond the man to whom he spoke. He saw Molly, to whom her mother now ran, taking the white facein her own hands. Wingate looked from one to the other. *“Why do you come here? What do I owe you that you should bring more trouble, as you always have? And what do you owe me?” “I owe you nothing!” said Banion. “You owe me nothing at all. I have not traveled in your train, and I shall not travel in it. I tell you once more, you’re wrong in your beliefs; but till I can prove that I'll not risk any argument about it. “Then why do you come to my camp now?” “You should know,” I do know. It’s Molly!” “It’s Molly, yes. Here's a letter from her. I found it in the cabin at Ash Hollow. Your friend Woodhull could have killed me—we passed him just now. Jed could have killed me—you can now; it’s easy. But that wouldn’t change me. Perhaps it wouldn’t change her.”’ “You come here to face me down?” “No, sir. I know you for a brave man, at least. I don’t believe I’m a coward—I never asked. But I came to see Molly, because here she’s asked it. I don’t know why. Do you want to shoot me like a coyote?” “No. But I ask you, what do I owe you?’ “Nothing. But can we trade? If I promise to leave you with my train?” “You want to steal my girl!” “No! I want to earn her—some day.” The old Roman before him was a man of quick and strong decisions. The very courage of the young man had its appeal. “At least you'll eat,” black Secesh away hungry record in the Army.” “No, I'll not eat with you.” “Wait then! I'll send the girl pretty soon, if you are here by her invitation. I'll see she never invites you again.” “ ’ said he. “I'd not turn even a not even a man with your Bilt Jackson Wingate walked toward his wagon. Banion kept out of the light circle and found his horse. He stood, leaning his head on his arms in the saddle, waiting, intil after whatseemed an ageshe slipped out of the darkness, almost into his arms, standing pale, her fingers lacing and unlacing—the girl who had kissed him once—to say good-by. “Will Banion!”’ she whispered. ‘Yes, I sent for you. I felt you’d find the letter.” “Yes, Molly.” It was long before he would look at her. ‘‘ You're the same,” said he. “Only you’ve grown more beautiful every day. It’s hard to leave you—awfully hard. I couldn’t, if I saw you often.” He reached out again and took her in his arms, softly, kissed her tenderly on each cheek, whispered things that lovers do say. But for his arms she would have dropped again, she was so weak. She fought him off feebly. “No! No! It is not right! No! No!” “You won’t be with us any more?” she said at last. He shook his head. They both looked at his horse, his rifle, swung at the saddle horn. She shook her head also. “Ts this the real good-by, Will?” Her lips trembled. “It must be. I have given my word to your father. But why did you send forme? Only totorture me? I must keep my word to hold my train apart. I’ve promised my men to stick with them.” “Yes, you mustn’t break your word. And it was fine just to see you a minute, Will; just to tell you—to say I love you, Will! But I didn’t think that was why I sent. I sent to warn you—against him. It seems always to come to the same thing.” She was trying not to sob. The man was in but little better case. The stars did not want them to part. All the somber wilderness world whispered for them to love and not to part at all. But after a time they knew that they again had parted, or now were able to do so. ‘Listen, Will,” said the girl at last, putting back a lock of her fallen hair. “I'll have to tell you. We'll meet in Oregon? I'll be married then. I’ve promised. Oh, God help me! I think I’m the wickedest woman in all the world, and the most unhappy. Oh, Will Banion, I—I love a thief! Even as you are, I love you! I guess that’s why I sent for you, after all, SATURDAY EVENING POST “Go find the scout—Jim Bridger!” she broke out sud- denly. ‘‘He’s going on ahead. Go on to his fort with him—he'll have wagons and horses. He knows the way. Go with Bridger, Will! Don’t goto Oregon! I'm afraid for you. Go to California—and forget me! Tell Bridger “Why, where is it?” she exclaimed. She was feeling in the pocket of her apron, and it was empty. “T’ve lost it!’ she repeated. “I lose everything!” “What was it, Molly?” She leaned her lips to his ear. “It was gold!" He stood, the magic name of that metal which shows the color in the shade electrifying even his ignorance of the truth. “Gold?” She told him then, breaking her own promise magnifi- cently, as a woman will. “Go, ride with Bridger,”’ she went on. “Don't tell him you ever knew me. He'll not be apt to speak of me. But they found it in California, the middle of last winter gold! Gold! our camp— Kit He’s the first man to bring it to the valley of the Platte, He was sworn to keep it secret; so was Bridger, and so am I. Not to Oregon, Will—California! You can live down your past. If we die, God bless the man I do leve. That's you, Will! And I’m going to marry—him. Ten days! On the trail! And he'll kill you, Will! Oh, keep away!” She paused, breathless from her torrent of incoherent words, ‘jealous of the passing moments. It was vague, it was desperate, it was crude. But they were in a world vague, desperate and crude. “I’ve promised my men I'd not leave them,” he said at last. “A promise is a promise.” “Then God help us both! But one thing married, that’s the end between us, He leaned his head back on his saddle for a time, his tired horse turning back its head. He put out his hand blindly; but it was the muzzle of his horse that had touched his shoulder. The girl was gone. The Indian drums at Laramie thudded through the dark. The great wolf in the breaks lifted his hoarse, raucous roar more. The wilderness was afoot or bedding down, according to its like. Carson's here in Carson, when I'm So good-by 3 once XXVIII reunited after ARSON, Bridger and years, must pour additional libations to auld lang syne Jackson, now at Laramie, so soon were off together. The movers sat around their thrifty cooking fires outside the wagon corral. (Continued on Page 86 A Steady Fire at the Unseen Foe Held the Latter at Bay After the First Attack

Page 24

22 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST THE SATURDAY EVENING POST AEG. U. 6, PAT. OFF FOUNDED A°D! 1728 PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY BY THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY INDEPENDENCE SQUARE PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA, U.S.A. GEORGE HORACE LORIMER. EDITOR Vive Cents the Copy From All Newsdealers. By Subscription: To the United States and Possessions, Cuba and Mexico, $2.00 the Year. Remit by U.S. Money Order, Express Money Order, Check or by Draft, payable m U. 8, Punds To Canede— By Subscription, $1.00 the Year. Single Copies, Ten Cents— Canadian of U.S. Funds Foreign Subscriptions: For Countries in the Postal Union. Subscriptions, $6.00 the Year. Remittances to be by Draft on « bank in the U, S., payable ia U. 8. funds. PHILADELPHIA, APRIL 29, 1922 A Really Shocking Book HE reason why schoolboys furtively read dime novels under their desks during history hour is that, as a rule, novelists of the Nick Carter school have a far keener sense of the literary possibilities of suspended interest, dramatic situation and well-approached climax than is displayed by the pedagogues, with necks cramped in the yoke of tradition, who write textbooks. As good rules work both ways, is it not reasonable to suppose that if a writer of school histories, with all the comedy, tragedy, adventure, mystery and romance of the ages to draw upon, were clever enough, he might make a textbook so thrilling and absorbing that boys would stay indoors to read it when they might be outside at play? This remarkable achievement has lately been accom- plished by an American professor of history who wrote for his own children the story of mankind from the first brutish emergence of the human race down to the middle of the Werld War. His work is so clear and simple and so admirably balanced that it is to be doubted if the average college graduate has a more lucid conception of the history of the race than may be obtained from these pages by any bright boy of fifteen, This book is of real significance not only on its own account but because it will probably exercise a powerful influence upon other textbook writers who have the cour- age and ability to follow in the same path and break away from the deadly formalism that old as well as young find so tiresome and uninspiring. The advances in textbook writing that have been made in recent years are tremendous; but schoolbooks are still susceptible of a vast amount of improvement. This is a debt that age owes to youth, for though dullness and drudgery are inseparable from elementary education it is the obvious duty of teachers and schoolbook makers to present their subjects as attractively and interestingly as is consistent with sound learning. The method pursued in the book under discussion is to avoid any attempt at unbroken narrative, but to deal adequately with the high spots of history, allowing the gaps between to take care of themselves. Well-proportioned biographies do not devote equal space to every week of the lives whose stories they relate. They are full and ex- plicit in regard to significant events, periods of swift development and great pivotal occurrences; but upon the interludes they are silent. Applied to general history, this method dictates the exclusion of much dreary chronicle and the lively treatment of such really vital topics as daily life and thought in various ages and countries, the rise and fall of vast empires, the achievements of those who have most influenced the thought and behavior of men, mo- mentous military activities, notable advances in science, industry, political organization, art, religion, philosophy, exploration, discovery, social systems and the various struggles whereby man ever seeks to adapt his life to the environment in which he must live it. Such matters are full of interest for all except those who shrink from the slightest mental effort, and it is only when they are devitalized and spoiled in the telling that they be- come tiresome and repellent. Yet history is often written by men whose literary attainments are smaller than those of very mediocre news stand novelists. Few textbooks would be improved by being illustrated by the author instead of by a professional illustrator, but in the present instance that rash procedure is entirely justified, for the “animated maps” and crude drawings with which the writer has illuminated his pages are singu- larly calculated to impress facts and sequences of events upon the student’s memory. Pictures and diagrams that have this effect require neither justification nor apology. Professional textbook writers will find this a shocking volume, for though the author’s subject is a solemn and stupendous one he has not been ashamed to give free rein to a lively sense of humor. He has even constructed two complete sets of laughs, one for his childish readers and another for those of maturer years. If books of this sort should multiply and become com- monly adopted for use in our public schools, American education would never be quite the same again. It might be brighter, more penetrating and fuller of the joy of living, but it would be different, very different. Is the Trade Tide Turning? NTERNATIONALLY minded economists who have been venturing the prediction that our positive balance of trade in commodities could not be long maintained, on account of the differences in the buying powers of the United States and Europe, observe in the trade figures for February an approach to the confirmation of their views. The value of exports was $251,000,000, of imports $217,000,000, the positive balance therefore $34,000,000. This is only part of the picture. We are buying more services in shipping and insurance than we are selling. Many remittances of immigrants flow from this country to Europe, few are sent to us. We are expending far more tourist money abroad than is being expended here by the foreigners who visit us. Foreign loans are being floated regularly on our market. Americans are investing abroad in industrial enterprises. Europeans are selling back old investments in this country. It is not possible to strike a balance between these several forces, but the trend is un- mistakable. We have passed the worst of the business cycle and better times are ahead. We shall need to import more manganese, tin, nickel, jute, wool, rubber and other raw materials. ’ Our herds of animals have fallen to such an extent that decline of export of animal products to the level of 1913 would surprise no one. A short crop of wheat this summer would wipe out the exportable surplus. We are losing none of our fondness for coffee, sugar and other imported necessaries. Our exports of cotton should rise, and of manufactures also. But by and large, the impulse to import seems gaining ascendancy over facility to export. We shall restore our standard of living faster than any other people. That means imports. The cars that travel over our bonded highways run on imported asphalt, are made comfortable by imported rubber, and are propelled in part by gasoline made from imported mineral oil. Farmers, manufacturers, bankers, traders and shippers will resist an excess of imports of commodities as long as possible. When it comes, if it does come, we shall console our- selves with the reflection that creditor countries have April 29, 1922 always had excesses of imports of goods. And politicians will find it as easy to argue for a tariff under the new set of conditions as under the old. Industrial Leaders in Diplomacy HERE is sound common se.ise in President Ebert's announcement that it will be his policy to call upon outstanding business and industrial executives rather than old-school diplomatists to represent the German Govern- ment at. foreign capitals. The tentative selection of Dr. Otto Weidfelt, the dominant director of the Krupp works at Essen, to be German Ambassador to the United States is a concrete instance of this policy. It is not easy to bring forward any convincing reason why such foreign representation should not be of the highest value, for the curriculum of industry is quite as broad as that of diplo- macy and the training it affords is much more varied and exacting. Old-line diplomacy was largely a matter of intriguing, jockeying, wriggling and maneuvering for advantage. Its accepted and time-hallowed tactics were based on low cun- ning rather than on beneficent wisdom. Its methods were in sharp contrast to those of great leaders of modern in- dustry. Big business men do big things in a big way with a sharp eye on a future still two or three generations away. For the most part they are born builders with vigorous, constructive minds that aim at broad general results. There are always those who are ready to deride the appointment of business executives to ministerial posts. We still remember the sneers that were heard when the late Senator Knox was at the Department of State and his enemies made much political capital out of his “dollar diplomacy”; and yet the most superficial examination of international relations reveals the fact*that often they fairly bristle with dollar signs, sterling marks and other symbols that indicate monetary units. Successful men of large affairs are singularly fitted to carry on the kind of negotiations that will be involved in bettering relationships between the various national units of the human family. It is not too much to say that the passing of the old diplomacy will be one of the best omens for future peace that the world can desire. Better Than Bucket Shops ~~ MUCH has been written on the subject of thrift that one hesitates to lay down rules designed to guide those seeking financial success. However, it is a fact that per- sonal thrift, to most of us, is such an unpleasant duty that it is performed by the majority of people only in proportion to the frequency of the admonitions. Therefore, here are a few fundamentals which may serve more as reminders than rules for those interested in saving: Start a bank account. Banks may break, but they are the safest known place to keep money. Money in the savings bank will work for you as you have worked for it. Idle money is as mischievous as idle people. The pos- session of even a small checking account advances one’s standing in the community. The best receipts for bills paid are your checks which come back from the bank. Make a budget. It is as necessary to the individual who would become successful as a compass and chart are to a ship at sea. Purchase life insurance and make your will. Men who love their families should spend a few dollars now, rather than permit a situation where the expenditure of many more dollars will fail to safeguard the futures of a widow and her children. . Investments should be made for safety rather than for large and quick returns. Money should not be invested in projects concerning which you are unable to inform yourself by personal examination, unless you are able to base your action on the advice of those who are specialists in the business concerned, and of whose absolute integrity you are assured. There are thousands of recognized finan- cial institutions in the country managed by men of high character and undoubted honesty, and these concerns of experience and reputation value their standing more highly than any comparatively small amount they might earn unscrupulously. Te

Page 25

ROM 1915 to 1920, accor« ing to George M. Reynolds, Chairman of the Board of the Continental and Com- mercial National Bank of Chicago, we exported $19,000,000,000 of capital, cash or credit. In other words, during these five years the American people loaned an average of nearly four billion dollars annually to foreign governments, cities, railways and industries, through the U. S. Treasury and the banks of the United States. Last year, according to the Guaranty Trust Company of New York, foreign governments and foreign corporations obtained $650,000,000 more. This, however, is a conserva- tive estimate. One of the bankers whom I know in New York estimates that we exported one billion dollars in 1921. In making this statement he called attention to the hundreds of millions of dollars which have been “spurlos versenkt”’ in the American market by private “invest- ments” in Russian rubles, kronen, Italian lire and French francs and reams of foreign securities not included by A the New York bank. Thus, from 1915 to December 31, 1921, we exported twenty billion dollars of capi- tal. From January 1, 1922, to March i7, as this article is written, that sum was \ 225,000,000, the amount of ~ money publicly obtained by foreign gov- : i] German marks, Austrian increased by ernments and corporations during the first eleven weeks of this year. Included in this figure are a few capital exports such as the following: $60,000,000 to Holland; $27,000,000 to Argen- tina; $11,000,000 to Canadian THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ICE EUROPE National Railways; $30,000,000 to the P. L.& M. Railway of France; £1,000,000 to Rumania; 25,000,000 francs to the Midi Railway of France; and so forth. If we continue at this rate we shall export more than a billion dollars of capital before the dawn of 1923. This is what Mr. Reynolds had in mind when he asked recently, “Shall we export capital or use it for American business?” “‘Shall we finance Europe or our own country first?” Home Needs for Billions és E TALK glibly of giving billions of credits to foreign Weeuon to increase our farm exports,” Herbert Hoover said, addressing the Interstate Commerce Commis- sion. “I wish to say, with all responsibility for the state- ment,” the Secretary of Commerce continued, “that a billion dollars spent upon American railways will give more em- ployment to our people, more advance to our industry, more assistance to our farmers, than twice that sum ex- pended outside the frontiers of the United States; and there will be greater security for the investor. “A real program of construction would in its various ramifications give relief to five or six hundred thousand of our unemployed. It would enable even added numbers to increase their standards of living, and thus give in- creased market to the produce of ourfarmers. Otr farmers, who look to foreign markets to buy their surplus, should stop to consider that our home consumption of meat de- creased nearly seven pounds per capita in 1921, mostly owing to unemployment, and that if this de- crease could be overcome it would be worth more than a 35 per cent increase in exports.” Sf .Y / / IPoh i | {Poh > | | | ~yltei ‘ / sy / ee BS : ae A i \ . bs i "3 ™) ye aie i + } é + 7 ie po ss ; / \ SPECIMENS: # oF me HUMA DESCENSED FR PROOF AGAINST DARWIE 23 Ackerman Mr. Reynolds, who interprets the sentiment of that broad fertile section of the United States, the Middle West, which Meredith Nicholson named The Valley of Democ- racy, answered the question of what we should do with our capital and what our national policy should be, in this way: “Foreign trade for the United States is both necessary and desirable. There is no disagreement on this point bankers, among business men, economists, statesmen. However, in seeking a lead for the revival of American business, attention should not be focused on foreign trade to the exclusion of domestic business. American exports have constituted only some 6 to 8 per cent of the total sales of this country during the period of maximum ex- ports. The domestic market is definitely under American control, to be revived if proper thought and action be taken. A clear ray of hope offers in the thought that measures looking toward business revival can be taken at home and This does not mean that foreign trade, particu- It does mean that the key to business revival lies in the domestic at once. larly in certain commodities, is not important. market and a more normal foreign trade than that of the calendar years of 1915-20. “In determining the place of foreign trade,” the Chi- cago banker added, “it is important to emphasize that a continuation of abnormal exports cannot be expected. American exports mounted both in value and volume to unprecedented proportions, particularly during the years 1915-20. mand and dire necessity was withdrawn, there was a But once the stimulation of extraordinary de- noticeable drift back to trade more in alignment with prewar trends. Any notion that the United States can go on indefinitely selling all kinds of goods in all markets Continued on Page 104) { " HE 19 - 4 | a a INNO CENT 1 Y ‘ a

Page 26

THE |: OUR. set, particularly among | mother’s friends, the things we find really amusing are usually forbidden by convention. Further down town, in Greenwich Village, it is perfectly conventional to break all the conventions except the con- vention against being conventional. At | q first glance the average pleasure seeker ‘ might easily consider this condition of things satisfactory, and give up any further search for the perfect happiness which someone—Bernard Shaw, I think—so quaintly refers to as ‘the Blue Bird.” But the Blue Bird lives further south than Washington Square. It seems he isa native of Tahiti, and that the South Sea Islands have it all over Greenwich Village when it comes to personal liberty, self-expression, and allowing your own true self to emerge from your inhibitions and ramp around on its own completely — untrammeled, because the South Sea Islanders apparently haven’t even a convention against conventions. What I mean, it’s quite all right out there for a native deb to expand pretty well as much as she likes, and Marquesan mammas never say: ‘Now, my dear, don’t dance that dreadful camel walk or take anything to drink; and if you allow Bobby to kiss you he will never come to see you again, I assure you!” Well, instead of pulling a line like that, ihe Marquesan mammas are reputed to amile sweetly and merely say “ Hicky oi poi!” or something of that sort, which gently translated means “Go to it, my child, and enjoy yourself!” No wonder everyone has gone simply \ mad about the South Seas this season! Why, just think of the scope that place offers a really live deb---one full of pep and health and ideas like, let us say, myself{ I could groan aloud when I consider all the wasted years before I knew what Tahiti was like, and the fact that my youth was thrown away upon the stuffy air of Rosemere, Long Island, and a mere New York season! Also it makes me positively shudder to think that if I had never moved to the Village I would not have met Shackelton Salts, and if I had never met him I wouldn't have known a thing about the South Seas, Of course mother didn’t like my mov- ing downtown, That, as I read it over, is a very mild statement of the fact. As THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ALLOPING TIGE By Nina Wilcox Putnam TLLUSTRATED BY CHARLES D. a matter of plain truth she made the ie ctiing “You Will Give Me Your An: deuce of a row about it, and yet it was grArir Sh? fryer aes ewer at the End of the Voxage, rect oo Won't You, Leopardess?"’ really she herself who drove me from my father’s ancestral Park Avenue apart- ment. What I mean, she did so because she tried to enforce a lot of conventions which simply would not convene as far as I was concerned; and the end came after our hav- ing a terrible row about my staying overnight at Sylvia Glenning’s and walking in to lunch next day, wearing a tangerine chiffon evening frock and gold slippers. Of course there was nothing in the least improper about this, but mother simply could not be made to see it from my point ot view, and so we had this fearful row I was speak- ing of, and I got dad to allow me to take a studio on Eighth Street with Malvina Jones, a girl who was at Miss Spooner’s with me. For I decided that perhaps, all things considered, it was time for me to have a career of some sort, I wasn’t at that time quite sure what kind, but it was to be a real career, not merely a social one, and finding myself was perfectly ripping, as Malvina pointed out. Everything I wanted to do uptown and was forbidden to, or at least circumvented from doing as far as the family could manage it, was abso- lutely de rigeur below Fourteenth Street; and all the things my own people thought proper, such as being on time for meals, paying one’s bills, washing all over every day, being a Mrs. Somebody when one married, and get- ting as rich as possible—all these were considered almost indecent by Malvina’s set. I will say that I found it a tremendous relief, throwing off all social responsibility, or, us Malvina put it, allowing the subconscious to animate my life habit. Not that it, or anything else, animated Malvina very much. She was the limpest girl I ever knew, but full of ideas— Miss Spooner used to miscall them notions—and so, so different! At school | didn’t think very much of Malvina because her mother was a writer and lecturer; queer, don’t you know, and of course, as a mere ignorant schoolgirl I thought Malvina was queer too. Our set didn’t approve of ideas, and a mother who called herself Miss and backed movements and presented bills to legis- lators—or no, I guess it was legislatures—well, anyway, Malvina’s mother was modern, and so was Malvina, and that let her out as far as our bunch was concerned. Malvina was lonely at Miss Spooner’s school, and we girls rather thought she jolly well deserved it for being so darn intelligent. I expect her mother sent her there be- cause she didn’t know what else to do with her. And when Malvina finished at Miss Spooner’s she didn’t come out like the rest of us, because her mother didn’t have any home to bring her out of, I suppose, and so Malvina just went out, instead. Went out to the Art League, and took up batik, which is a kind of dyeing that can never be a failure, because no matter how it comes out—streaks, spots, anything—the batikist always claims that it was just the effect she had been trying for, and nobody is in a position to contradict her. Well, anyhow, the very day I had that awful row with mother and threatened to leave home forever and had not the remotest idea of how I was going to make good MITCHELL April 29,1922 on my threat unless I married that stuffy, proper, old faithful Ted Stone- wall, I was standing in Fifty-seventh Street looking mournfully at a green feather hat at forty-five dollars in Francine’s window and realizing with bitterness that under the circumstances I couldn’t very well go in and charge it to mother. As I was standing there, along came Malvina in a green hat too; only it was a green felt tam. She also had a portfolio under her arm and was wearing a ruined batik smock that was one of her most successful inspirations; an interpretation of a can of green peas, I think it was. And Iwas so low in mind I was actually glad to see her. Malvina allowed me to take her to tea, although it was unfortunately the conventional hour for tea, and while she ate she listened to me most beautifully and understandingly. “Look here, Pet Torrington!”’ she ex- claimed when I had pretty nearly fin- ished—which is a long time for one girl to allow another to talk. ‘‘Look here, what you need is work and freedom. I can see at a glance that you have grown intellectually in the year since we left school. You have bobbed your hair, for one thing—the first step toward true emancipation. I'll bet your people are trying to marry you off to some conven- tional man, and that they will be per- fectly satisfied as soon as they see you trapped for life. I'll bet, furthermore, that they hamper and curb you at every turn!” “Indeed they do!’’ I said eagerly. “Why, father has actually cut my allow- ance to five hundred a month! And since last night he’s been threatening to take away my roadster. You see, we got pinched for speeding coming home, and he didn’t like our being in evening clothes in the police court before noon. Dad is so painfully conventional!” “That clearly shows how narrow your people are!” ex- claimed Malvina. “‘ Now, my mother has always urged me to express myself fully in every way. My only difficulty has been that I can’t seem to find much to express. But I tell you what you do, Pet. Move down to my place, and meet some real people; learn to know yourself, and work. Work is the great solvent!” “What kind of work?” I asked doubtfully. know how to do anything!” “ All the better!”’ Malvina exclaimed. “I will help you to find yourself. Work will come naturally. Try out a lot ef things and eventually you will find your métier. I, for example, was a sculptor for a while, and then I dropped it and it broke to pieces. It was a group called The Fall of Man. And next I tried free verse, but I couldn’t get any money for it. And then after a while I found—this!” Malvina held up the tail of the green-pea effect as she spoke, and while I didn’t think much of the smock I cer- tainly was impressed with her ideas about living alone with her in a studic and having perfect freedom for self- expression, and when I found that there was a good garage right around the corner from her, why, I decided to try and make a woman of myself and find a career and allow my real nature to develop to the highest point so that I might be of greater value to society. Society in the most liberal sense, you know, with a capital “S” and all that! And as Malvina was with me heart and soul, we went right to it. Malvina’s mother only sent her thirty a week, so earnestness and inventiveness were about all she had to contribute. But she had a lot of those, and as I am promptness itself when I am trying to get away with any- thing, and mother was out and father still downtown, I gave up all idea of the green-feather hat at Francine’s and put the remainder of my allowance into a van and two men, who obligingly went to the apartment with us at once and carted off my day bed and a big divan from my sit- ting room, and a long mirror and a few rugs and things; because Malvina had only a black cat called Poe, an easel and a spring cot for herself. We took my electric curler and my dressing silver, which is gold, in case we ever ran short of cash, and also a lamp, some books that Malvina wanted, a couple of lace-trimmed pillows, my blue satin comforter and the firedogs. Then Malvina thought we had enough and sent the men off with the load, while I got my (Continued on Page 26) “T don’t

Page 27

THE - SATURDAY EVENING POST | «TH TOMATO SAUC , COMPANY \ H a -with a sauce for a king! What a challenge it is to your appetite—this spicy, delicious tomato sauce! How quickly you respond to it with a keener hunger and a greater pleasure in your food! Campbell’s Beans are the select, meaty kind that have the true bean flavor. But their famous tomato sauce adds tenfold to your enjoyment. Slow-cooked, digestible beans that agree with you! 12 cents a can Except in Rocky Mountain States and in Canada SSR ES oa" ie dene iy" ’ ‘ “ UMMM. «= MADE BY THE MAKERS OF CAMPBELLS SOUPS siumumunlll — ii i y Hs . ty A. Ph + ae igs Sas

Page 28

(Continued from Page 24) new red roadster out of the garage and had the tank filled and oil put in and charged that to dad, and then with only a couple of armfuls of clothes, three hat boxes and my jewel case I left my parents’ apartment—I thought it only fair to leave that much—and drove Malvina down the Avenue, smiling at all the cops as I went. When this was done and I was comfortably settled in that great glorious big studio, why, I telephoned home and asked permission to move. What happened subsequently I refuse to put on record; I think too much of my parents to tell all that I know about them. However, I will say dad produced a larger vocabulary than I had ever dreamed he possessed, but tnat in the end permission was granted, nevertheless. Which is how I came to know about the social revolu- tion and Freud and batik and chop suey, and a lot of wonderful things like that which showed me how I had been wasting my time uptown. I could do practically whatever I liked without a tiresome family snooping around except once or twice a week when mother would turn up with a hamper exactly as if I were the poor or something. But for some reason, once the break was made, mother didn’t object to anything. She seemed to realize that I was finding myself and looking for my life- work, and she was really very sensible about it, and I was left practically untrammeled in my new life until one after- noon when Ted Stonewail showed up. Now Ted's family are year-around people out in Rose- mere, where we have our summer home, and when we were kids mother didn’t mind our playing together. I expect she knew that I'd get over my girlish fancy for Ted, and for once she was right. Ted was intellectually quite out of date, if you know what I mean, and his ideas about women were as antique as mother’s, And of course I was not going to permit myself to stay in love with. anyone who would cramp my style. Curiously enough the alikeness of their standards got him nothing with mother after we grew up. { suppose his father being coal and wood was the reason for that, Certainly she had never of late years encouraged his coming around. And so when he turned up at the studio with a hamper from her I was a good bit surprised, until I realized that he had probably worked it 80 as to get to see me, “Hello, La Bohéme!” he greeted me as he swung the big basket to the refractory table with an easy lift of his broad shoulders. ‘Gee! This place is as big as Art Jones’ photo-studio- six - dollars-a-dozen-finished - while -you- wait, down home!” “Ted, don't be crude!”’ I admonished, dig- tie ging into the hamper to make sure there was , quince jam. There was, and so I turned back to Ted. “Don’t be facetious, Ted, it’s so bour- geois! This is areal studio—my work- shop!” ‘And where is your work?” Ted wanted to know with that disconcert- ing directness of his, “TL haven't found my true work yet, Ted,” I replied crossly. ‘“‘But when I do find it I shall work at it here.” “Oh!” said Ted. Then he came over and stood very close to me in that way which used to comfort and at fhe same time rather frighten me in the old days before I became an intellectual, ‘Don’t you know what your true work is?"’ he asked softly. ‘‘Nol!l” said I, trying to break away. “Well, I do!" he said. “It’s to marry me; that’s work enough.” “Oh, Ted, you are really impossi- ble!” I cried, freeing my hands, which he had somehow managed to get hold of. “‘Don't be ridiculous, please! I shall never marry. And as for finding my work in the home, just forget it! Don’t talk to me about doniesticity; it’s cold, old priceless!” “It's never cold, to my mind!” said Ted soberly, “I say, Pet, you don’t take this bunch down here seriously, do you?” “Of course I do!” I said hotly. “I’m thinking, for the first time in my life, and I’m enjoying it!” “Thinking about what?" said Ted. “Oh, about art and life and beauty,” % I said, ‘and, of course, work!” “But what work?” persisted Ted. “Look here, Pet, | believe this crew you're running around with is a bunch of fakes! Don’t jet them put anything over on you, dear. The real art in this world lies in the simple, fundamental bi oT OH EO hays THE SATURDAY EVENING POST things: in happy homes, fine children, in things which grow in the clear air, not in stuffy cellar cafés!” “Ted Stonewall, you have no right to speak of my friends like that!’ I retorted. ‘You think I am living down here among a bunch of cheap, fake Bohemians, but you are wrong. Do you call Shackelton Salts a fake?” “T have heard of him—from your mother,” said Ted, plainly impressed. ‘‘The chap that wrote those Deep Sea Chanteys?”’ “Yes, that’s the one!’’ I said triumphantly. ‘‘He’s a very especial friend of mine—very! He’s published seven volumes of sea poems—only two at his own expense,’”’ I went on—‘‘and he’s a very wonderful person. He’s been around the Horn ten times, I think it is.” “‘Got Masefield lashed to the mast!” murmured Ted, but I pretended not to hear. “I’m very fond of Shack,” I went on. “‘And nobody, not even you, can deny that those are great sea poems. Then there is Shamus O’Shamus, who wrote Glimpses. And, oh—lots more real people!” “Well, could you endure the company of a mere low- brow musical-comedy hound for one evening?’ in- quired Ted. ‘Because if so I would like to have you dine with me.” ‘Oh, Ted!” I said regretfully. ‘‘I’d love to, but I have already asked Shack to dine with me!” “And he accepted?” said Ted in a peculiar tone. ‘‘ Well, then, perhaps he won’t mind if I bring Malvina along, and you all dine with me?” “That will fix it splendidly!’’ I cried, relieved. ‘And some of the others are sure to drift in. Oh, Ted, I do want you to meet my new friends and see just how perfectly splendid i “ they are,” “io ler” “Don't be Ridicutous, Please! I Shalt Never Marry. And as for Finding My Work in the Home, Just Forget It!"’ April 29,1922 “Good!” said Ted. “'I'hat’s exactly what I came down- town for!” An hour later we were seated in the café of the old French hotel, and I looked about the table with pride, for just as I had foretold, the bunch had gathered around. Really, it scarcely seemed possible that a few short weeks ago these people, all but Malvina and Ted, had been utter strangers tome. Why, I had not even heard of them, and now we were on first-name terms. They certainly were a distinguished- looking crowd, and it was just wonderful to be sitting there among people who did things! First in importance came Shackelton Salts, of course, with his magnificent physique—and it is truly wonderful, only perhaps just a little thick about the middle—well, anyway, with it thrown gracefully into his mirrored corner and a new suit of corduroys, the shirt open at his great strong throat, as he bade us notice, his mat of yellow hair fairly standing on end as always when he was excited—and of course he was always excited, and usually pounding the table. Then there was my Malvina, very limp in a yellow batik smock, but so emancipated under it all, and Zelda Rosen—you know, the organizer who split the buttonhole makers’ union. Just now she wasn’t splitting anything except a baked potato, butshedidit with asingle-mindedness and fierce determination which made me realize how pow- erful her personality was—that, and her powerful black hair and strong little figure. Zelda was the daughter of a Lower East Side tailor and was the living proof of our utter democracy. Next to her sat Edouard Roulande, the sculptor; awfully modern stuff, he does; in fact, he is the founder and one of the very few members of the Adaptive School of Sculpture, which never uses original material but takes something that is symbolic of the idea they want to interpret, and uses it asafoundation. For example, Ed's statue called Smoke was made entirely of old cigar boxes, and attracted a great deal of attention at the last Inde- pendent Exhibition. Next to him was Ted, wisely silent, but absorbing a steak, and on Ted’s other hand sat Shamus O’Shamus, the author of Glimpses; a dear boy, so full of romance, and the most perfect dancer. Besides all of which he was the great Irish patriot, you know. At least his other book, the one about the Horrors of Belfast, was a great success. Shamus had never been in Ireland himself, but he changed his name from James Jameson to its present form of his own accord, and he feels very strongly about the Irish. I’m not just sure on which side. I felt sorry for poor old prac- tical Ted, silently eating away in his corner, completely swamped by the brilliant talk of the others. He seemed so out of it and so common- place, compared with the rest of our little group, that I pitied him sin- cerely. Particularly because he was so utterly unaware of his crudity. My heart ached for him—or would have, only I remembered in time that, as Malvina often says, the commonplace is always unforgiv- able. The talk had for some time been upon Russia, as it usually was among us at one time or another during an evening. Zelda was al- ways bringing it up because her aunt’s husband was killed in a po- grom or a droshky, I don’t quite remember which. “See what an unservable lit- tle capitalistic potato!’’ she ex- claimed. “In spite of the lies of the kept press, I’d take an oath that the free peasantry of revolu- tionary Russia grow larger pota- toes than that!’ All of a sudden Ted emerged from his retired corner. “Believe me, then, they hid ’em mighty well when I was over there with the Red Cross!” said Ted. “You were in Russia!’’ exclaimed Zelda. “Camerad! Tell us about it!” “ Nothing to tell that the papers haven’t told,” replied Ted. ‘‘Slush, cold, hunger, disease and slavery. All this freedom stuff is bunk!” “Ah!” said Zelda. “You probably only saw what you were meant to see! You probably never got to know the truth!” “Well, I was only there six months,” Ted admitted, and returned to his steak. “Truth,” said Shackelton Salts, “is a strange, elusive thing. “We are afraid to look for it—because it’s unclothed, you know, and we are a nation of prudes!”’ (Continued on Page 28)

Page 29

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST HMA The Greatest Year In Hupmobile History HIS year will be the greatest, in sales volume, of all the 14 years of Hupmobile history. The first month of this year was the greatest January in the records of the Hupmobile. In February, the smashing in- crease in demand topped January by 35 per cent. March rapidly gathered further momentum and recorded the greatest month of selling the Hup- mobile has ever known. Thus it has gone and is going, week after week and month after month, all over the country. Public Sifting Out All Car Values It is clear now that the six months’ total will almost reach the entire production for the largest year the car has ever had. Touring Car, $1250 Roadster, $1250 HHIAVVUANLLNTA LOE Roadaster-Coupé, #1485 Cord Tires on all models— Prices F. O. B. Detroit— Revenue Tax Extra | Style— Beauty — Luxurious Comfort The reason for this tremendous growth is perfectly plain. The public has settled down to a sifting process—to a process that is leading thousands straight to the Hupmobile. The Hupmobile is in tune with the spirit of the day—a spirit that seeks out that which is substantial, that which is sure, that which is saving, and that which renders service. Traveling side by side with this swiftly speeding and greater ap- preciation, is an equally impressive demand for used Hupmobiles. As we have told you in recent an- nouncements, used Hupmobiles are a live asset all over the United States. Confirm this by looking over your own local newspapers. Offerings of used Hupmobiles are Coupé, #1835 Sedan, #1935 } | ! Sales Everywhere Mounting to Larger Volume With Each Succeeding Month IAI | | 1920, the greatest previous year. | typical of our sales everywhere. | few and far between, and they are eagerly sought by waiting buyers New Buyers Come From High and Low Priced Fields In large proportion, this great in flux of new Hupmobile buyers is coming from two sources. One is the field far above the Hupmobile in price, the other the field far below it in pric e. The Hupmobile has never sought comparison or competition with cars of lesser price and huge vol ume production. But in many cases it 1s actually outselling the best of the cars whose strongest appeal is price There is not a distributor or dealer on our books who has not increased his orders and sold the inc rease There is scarcely a dealer who does not report remarkable in stances of buyers abandoning costlier cars for the Hupmobile- and scores of others disc arding Boston 1} Detroit . January and February, i922, | Chicago . . January and February, 1922, Minneapolis . January and February, 1922, St. Louis . January and February, 1922, | Los Angeles . January and February, 1922, \} Official reports from scores of points throughout the country indicate the | tremendous increase in Hupmobile retail sales. i } . January and February, 1922, greater than same months, 1920, by— 100% greater than same months, 1920, by— 53% | greater than same months, 1920, by— 238° greater than same months, 1920, by— 30% High Lights in Hupmobile’s Greatest Year Comparison is made with Figures are the latest available in com- plete form, at the time this tabulation is made. These few examples are greater than same months, 1920, by— 82% greater than same months, 1920, by— 27% cars of lower price because they are convinced of the greater econ- omy of the Hupmobile. That ec onomy, of course, consists freedom of the Hupmobile from repairs, and its in the greater lower upkeep costs. Greater Economy an Established Fact Tested out time and again in busi- ness fleets, the Hupmobile has proved that it is a more economi- cal car than those in the higher priced field, and the best of the lower pri ed as well. More economical because this Hupmobile is built as all Hupmo- biles have always been built —in shops with the will and the equip- ment to do the same precise and painstaking work; with the same high quality, tested materials; that gointothe world 'sfinest motorcars. Hupp Motor Car Corporation Detroit, Michigan Hupmobile HII TTT TW Hill PUTER RELL

Page 30

(Continued from Page 26) “Oh, pshaw, Shack!” said Edouard languidly. ‘You love to talk about nudity because you’re stuck on your shape. You are getting fat, though—you ought to train down!” “Train down!" shouted Shack. ‘How under heaven can I do that in this mad country? How can I live a free, healthy, natural life when I have to go around in clothes—the most unnatural things in the world? How?” “Ye ought to go to the South Seas, Chack,’’ put in “I've been reading that Murphy book, The Shadowy South Seas. Great stuff! The place would suit Faith, it would suit myself pretty good, as Shamus. ye, man! well!" “The Shadowy South Seas!”’ I exclaimed. ‘Oh, that’s a wonderful book! It makes you want to jump right on a boat and start for Tahiti!” “Those Marquesans are real people!"’ declared Malvina, giving them her highest praise. ‘Utterly unconventional, and the only clothing they wear is batik. How I'd adore to go there and compare batiks with them!” “By heavens, you are right!’’ exclaimed Shack, reply- ing to Ed, however, not to Malvina. ‘I ought to goto the South Sea Islands! Do you know, in all my voyages before the mast I have never sailed the South Seas? That is to say, not seriously, Think of the glorious freedom of life on those islands! You are right, Ed--that Murphy book is a masterpiece. I would certainly like to go out to Tahiti. Every poet ought to go there! By thunder, I have an idea! Think what a magnificent thing it would be if an army of poets and sculptors and artists invaded Tahiti intent to live the glad, free [life of the islands; to lie under the breadfruit trees and make verses, with no beastly edi- tors and landlords around; with not a care in the world and no effort to make except to dance about. Think of it! Glorious! Mar- veious! By heaven, if [had aseaworthy boat I'd take you all there! We'd leave this poison- ous, artificial life behind us, and in Tahiti we would produce art that would conquer the world!” I was simply par- alyzed by his mar- velous eloquence and by the inspira- tional light on his ‘ “4 rugged face. But I i é was a little sur- prised at his refer- ring to the Village as poisonously arti- ficial, because he usually assured me that I was seeing true freedom there. Well, of course, Tahiti would be a whole lot freer; I had to admit that, even before Edouard took up the theme. “An art ship to Tahiti!’’ he murmured, lifting his pale face and half closing his eyes. ‘“ Exquisite! I was ona ship once! If it could only come true!” “If 1 could only sell some stuff I'd take you all!” ex- claimed Shackelton. ‘I'd buy a ship—a sailing ship, for who would want to find romance under steam? Then I'd hoist the fair white sails, cast off, and then—ah, then!” “By Jove, Shack, my boy!” said Shamus pettishly. “I wish ye wouldn’t make such talk, with the winter soon to be upon us and my bones aching for the warmth of the sun! I'd go on that trip of yours for the shake of a cat’s tail.” “So would I!” put in Zelda, who had finished her capi- talistie potato, skin and all. “The trouble with those Marquesans is that they are not organized. How can they resist the invasion of the white man unless they have a union? I'd whip them into shape, so that authors would have to get a permit from the Hula-hula Union Local No. 1 before they would be allowed to land!” “Friends!” exclaimed Shack. “If only we could do it! That mythical sailing boat—a schooner, preferably! She has captured my fancy utterly! No hired crew, you un- derstand. We would sail it ourselves! Think of a crew of artists setting sail for the South Seas, the black ship dip- ping like a gull, the fierce white foam kissing her sides! The crew singing ‘A deep sea, a cruel sea, between my blue-eyed love and me’!”’ “How beautiful!” said I. “It’s the first poem in my second volume of sea ballads,” breathed Shack, turning directly to me. “Think of that Gaacie st. Youd, é / 7 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST voyage, with you beside me, Leopardess! A ship, a ship, my kingdom for a ship!” Then Ted, who had been watchfully smoking and look- ing keenly from one to another of us without joining in at all, spoke quietly. “T can let you have a ship,” said he. ‘“Two-masted schooner in splendid shape; everything aboard her but the crew. I took her for a bad debt.” For a moment there was an incredulous silence. Then Shackelton leaned toward Ted, and they stared at each other like two dogs who are not quite sure whether to fight or not. Then Shack sort of wagged his tail. “Do you mean that, or are you kidding?’’ he demanded, as we listened breathlessly. “Never more serious in my life!’’ replied Ted, removing his pipe from between his strong white teeth and smiling in his pleasant way. “She’s a sixty-foot schooner, two masts, full-rigged, sleeps ten people and has a gasoline kicker. Name, Sadie Brown of Boston. She is in sound condition and you are more than ’ welcome to use her. With crews on strike I ; didn’t know quite what to do with her. You have shown me!” “Old man!” said Shackelton after an al- most imperceptible hesitation. ‘Done with you!”’ And the two shook hands solemnly. “Look Here, Pet Torrington!"* She Exctaimed, ‘What You Need is Work and Freedom" “This is a great opportunity,’’ Shack went on. “Think of the publicity! Why, it’s the biggest sort of a Sunday story! I can’t tell you what a wonderful thing you have done!”’ ; “Not yet, you can’t,’”’ said Ted; “‘so don’t try. I’m not sure just what I’ve done, myself. But the boat is yours to command; on one condition—that you let me come along!” Well, we just about got up and cheered at that! We were almost put out of the hotel for it—Zelda afterward claimed that we actually were, but I still think it was only the ordinary closing time. However, we certainly made a big row over Ted, and then we parted reluctantly out in front, after first agreeing to meet next morning at ten at the wharf where the Sadie was tied up, and look her over. Ted took Malvina and me home—that is, to the studio. Once there he somehow managed to see me alone for a moment. “Pet,”’ said he, “Mr. Shackelton Salts seems very de- voted to you. Does it mean anything?” ““I—don’t ask me, Ted!’ I begged. ‘‘I—well, I haven’t made up my mind about him yet. I want to wait and get to know him better!” “T see!" said Ted thoughtfully. ‘ Well, you will, on this trip. Do you mind my coming along?” “Mind, you old honey!” I exclaimed. “Mind your coming on a party that has any stunt I ever did before trimmed down the neck? That puts it all over any party I ever dreamed of? Why, little angel face! There is only one thing I'll mind, and that is if mother tries to stop my going. Oh, Ted, she must not stop it! You help me to persuade her!” Ted looked around guiltily, to make sure that nobody was about. Nobody was, for Malvina had gone to bed. April 29, 1922 “Pet!” he whispered suddenly. ‘How about sneaking up to the Crystal Room at the Ritz for a little toddle? Your mother has a table there to-night, and it’s only twelve o’clock!”” “We—you—she might ” T began hurriedly. “Oh, Ted, I’d love to! Only promise faithfully you will never tell Malvina that I did such a dreadfully conventional thing!” Next morning it was Shackelton Salts who came to get me and take me down to see the schooner, for Ted having business at his new Park Row offices had promised to meet us at Pier 13 at ten o’clock. Shack came around to our place at eleven minutes past, and I took him and Malvina down in the red roadster. “Do you know anything about boats, Pet?’”’ he asked, his soulful eyes fixed upon me devot- edly. “Of course I do!’’I replied. “I’ve been to Europe three times!”’ “That’s fine!” said Shack relievedly. “The more of us that understand sailing, the better. Shamus says he went to South America on a sailing boat during the war, and Ed has read a lot of sea stories and feels that he can easily put into prac- tice what he remembers from them. How about your plutocratic friend Stonewall?” “Oh, Ted isn’t a plute,” I explained. ‘He's just a beginner at business, al- though he’s making awfully good. But when it comes to sailing a boat—why, he’s been doing that every sum- mer all his life. “Ted can sail a boat as easily as you can write beautiful poetry!” Shack smiled delightedly at that, and I am happy to say his attitude toward Ted became distinctly more cordial from then on. Well, when we finally got to the wharf, there was Ted sitting on a post and smoking his little old pipe with all the patience of who was it on a monument? Anyway, there he was, and it turned out that although a little late we were the first upon the scene. Malvina flapped up to him at once, an anxious expression on her face. “Oh, Mr. Stonewall!” she cried. “Do you really think it is all right to leave your boat at Pier 13?” “Good morning!” said Ted. “Yes, it’s all right, of course. Surely you are not superstitious?” “Oh, no!” disclaimed Malvina. ‘Only you see, thir- teen is supposed to be unlucky and the idea of ill luck ence associated with anything may influence one’s subconscious thought, that’s all. I only mean that by association of ideas some of us might actually though unconsciously indute ill luck!”’ “Well, it hasn’t hurt the old boat any so far,’’ Ted com- mented. ‘Hello, here comes the rest of the bunch. And it’s only eleven o’clock.”’ The others were indeed coming down the pier, en masse, Shamus in a rather soiled white middy blouse, which he had dug up goodness knows where; Zelda in her mannish tweeds and no hat; and Edouard in his immaculate sculptor’s smock, looking paler than ever, if possible. A handful of rude and shockingly sophisticated small boys were following them. “Behold the faithful—our romantic seafarers!” cried Shack in his beautiful liquid voice. ‘Welcome, dear ad- venturers!’’ “‘ Aye, aye, captain!”’ cried Shamus, coming to a sort of marine salute. “‘The top of the morning to ye all!” “‘Tt’s not the top, it’s halfway down the morning!” com- mented Ted, the mean thing, spoiling the whole effect. “Come on in, friends. The Sadie’s warped to the far end and I’ve got to get back to the office!” “‘Just a moment!’’ exclaimed Shackelton with one of his fine, strong gestures. “One moment! Before we stir from this spot something has got to be set right. Shamus here has used a most opprobrious term. He addressed me or one of us—as captain. Now to my mind, on a voyage of this kind—a quest after sheer beauty, made by comrades in the arts—there can be no question of officers. No cap- tain, no mate, no crew; but only a oneness, a perfect, free and glad codperation between us all. No one should hold (Continued on Page 112) A EAE RE A I a SPIT RS NR a

Page 31

A EAE A EE RG ORE FR ENS Rm me ee ga 4 ‘ t | i ee a What Type of Asbestos Roofing? This chart will help you decide Kind of Building | Type of Asbestos Roofing | Brand or Trade Name | Small buildings | Slate surfaced roll roofing or shingles | Flexstone | red or green Dwellings 85,006 - 87,000 Slate surfaced roll roofing or shingles, or Fieid asbestos | shingles | Flexstone red or green; rigid red, brown or gray Dwellings 87 ,000-—825,000 Rigid asbestos shingles | Standard or extra thick—red, brown, gray or | blended Dwellings $25,000 upwards Rigid asbestos shingles Colorblende —five tone, brown with or without red or gray accidentals Factories, shops and mills--Monitor and Sawtooth roofs* 3 or 4 ply ready roofing } Johns-Manville | Asbestos Ready Roofing or Built-up | Roofing Flat roofs all buildings* Built-up roofing Skeleton frame buildings standard conditions* Corrugated asbestos roofing -vith steel reinforcement |.Johns-Manville Built-up Roofing Johns-Manville Corrugated Asbestos Roofing Skeleton frame build. | ings—excessive tem perature or conden sation conditions* Corrugated asbestos | roofing without steel reinforcement Johns-Manville Transite Corrugated Ashestos Woor | Roofing *Note—Industrial buildings call for expert advice Aroofing expert is available at all Johns-Manville Branches JOHNS Every man in this crowd can afford Asbestos Roofing HESE people will soon have to consider the question, “What Roofing?” Some will be guided by economy. Others will seek permanence and durability. In either case the trail ends with Johns-Manville Asbestos Roofing. Surprising as it is to most, this per manent roofing costs but a few cents more, per square foot, than the ordi- nary, perishable type. Only a few cents more tion to permanence you get fire-safety. Johns-Manville Asbestos Roofings will withstand the intense heat of a plumb er’s blow torch. Any dealer will quickly prove this to your satisfaction. Each yet in addi- type is given highest rating in its class by Underwriters’ Laboratories, Inc. Asbestos Roofing is made by Johns Manville in many forms: shingles, ar tistic in colors and shapes, for hom« roll-roofing for the sloping roofs of garages or small industrial buildings; or built up, layer upon layer, on the great roof-decks of commercial struc tures. (See chart on left. The most s*riking attribute of John Manville Asbestos Roofing is not its fire-safety and weather-resistance, not its economy and permanence, not the single fact that it never needs painting or refinishing; but rather the fact that all these qualities are combined in this one roofing. The universal roofing is Johns-Manville Asbestos. JOHNS-MANVILLE, Inc Madison Avenue at 41st Street, New York Cit For Canada: Canadian J s-Manv -MANVILLE Asbestos Roofing

Page 32

More about Water It is a curious trait of human nature that no one likes to follow directions. How many times have you been lost because you thought you knew better than the road map? Or, to be more specific, have you ever read and followed the instruc tions which come wrapped around each tube of Mennen Shaving Cream? Of course, Mennen’s will give great results no matter how you use it, but just the same you will never experience the perfect Mennen shave until you obey the rules. These instructions (1 wrote them myself) say to use three times as much water as you formerly used with old-fashioned soap. Yet, so far as my observation goes, most men use only the first brushful of water and, as a result, get a thin coat of whitewash instead of the heavy bank of lather they could build up if they would only use a lot of water. Now, this extra water has a lot to do with putting your beard into a proper condition to be shaved. One reason why Mennen’s is so much better is because its lather holds so large a quantity of water. Please do it my way just once. Start the lather on the point of your chin and gradually spread. Then keep adding water—a little at a time. It is amazing how much water you can pack into Mennen lather. Until you eee exposed your beard to a three-minute,.complete saturation with Mennen lather, you will never know the joy of operating on a thor oughly licked beard. Just to fill up the column, I want plead with you to learn what com fort there is in Mennen Talcum for Men for after shaving and bathing. It is neutral in tone and doesn’t show. I'll send samples of Shaving Cream and Taleum for Men for 10 cents. sna Heme (Mennen Salesman) THe Mennen Company Newaan, AJ. USA, | the fight going. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST April 29,1922 THE INSIDE STORY OF THE A. E. F. of 45-50 and boys of 17. France is done. The American colton will not be ready to fight as an army until late in 1918. Our ex- perience proves ‘that meanwhile we must keep Even half-trained American | companies or battalions would fight well = | mixed with 2 or 3 years veterans. | her forces on the w Beg H. consider this favorably. Yours, D. L. G. The inclosure to which the British Prime Minister referred was a memoran- dum, as follows: ‘* Obviously Germany has a better chance of winning the war before America can exert her full strength than she will have after. It follows that she may try to win it during the next eight months or so. I believe she will. Russia’s defection enables her greatly to strengthen est or Italian front, or on both, and to try to get the decision. Italy will be weak for some months to come; the man power of France is rapidly diminishing; we cannot yet see our way to keeping our divisions even approximately up tostrength throughout next summer, especially if there is heavy fighting this winter—which will probably be the German game—while Amer- ica requires several months before she can put an appreciable force of divisions into the field. “Would America, therefore, be ready to help in another way, as a temporary measure? When she first came into the war we hoped she might send some men for inclusion in the British armies, as being clearly the quickest way of helping; but for reasons we quite understand, she preferred to retain her national identity. No doubt she still desires to do so, but over and above the preparation of her divisions, and with- out interfering with it, would it be pos- sible for her to provide a company of in- fantry to replace a British company in such a number of British battalions as America could bring over men? Even 100 such companies would be of the greatest value. Every consideration would, of course, be given to the companies, and if desired they could later on be recalled and posted to the American divisions. It is thought that this mingling of American and British troops would establish a close and cordial feeling between the two armies, and would also give the American troops useful training. If this system is not possible would America find a battalion to replace a British battal- ion in as many brigades as possible? There would be no insuperable difficulty in meet- ing American wishes in such matters as dis- cipline, rations and general maintenance. The only difficulty is American national sentiment, which we quite understand. “On the other hand, thesystem suggested is clearly one which would the most rapidly afford much-needed help during, perhaps, the most critical period of the war.” General Petain’s Proposal While pressure was being brought to bear overseas by both French and British, each government was exerting its influence in Washington, also, to accomplish the same end. The War Department cabled the American commander in chief on Decem- ber 25, 1917: ‘Both English and French are pressing upon the President their de- sires to have your forces amalgamated with theirs by regiments and companies, and both express belief in impending heavy drive by Germans somewhere along the lines of the western front. We do not desire loss of identity of our forces, but regard that as secondary to the meeting of any critical situation by the most helpful use possible of the troops at your com- mand. The difficulty of course is to deter- mine where the drive or drives of the enemy will take place; and in advance of some knowledge on that question, any redistribu- tion of your forces would be difficult. The President, however, desires you to have full authority to use the forces at your com- mand as you deem wise in consultation with the French and British Commanders- in-chief the President’s sole pur- pose being to acquaint you with the rep- resentations made here and to authorize you to act with entire freedom in making the best disposition and use of your forces as appears to be possible to accomplish the main purposes in view. Three days later General Petain pre- sented a French plan for using American troops. Writing on December 28, 1917, he said: “Since the time when the first programs (Continued from Page 5) were fixed for the American forces, the gen- eral situation has been modified by the Russian disloyalty and Italian events. ““A menace by the enemy of an imminent, large-scale general offensive on the French front obliges us to utilize all resources, not omitting the support of the American forces. “Without prejudice to the duration of the war, it is then believed that we cannot wait for these troops to be organized and instructed as would have been desired had we made our dispositions in the tranquillity of considerable time.” General Petain then outlined his propo- sition, which was to incorporate the Amer- icans with the French forces, one American regiment to each French division. In urg- ing its acceptance he emphasized the im- portance of hastening instruction so that, in ease of need, the French could draw on the better units of the American forces available. In regard to these proposals the Amer- ican commander in chief cabled the War Department: “Do not think emergency now exists that would warrant our putting companies or battalions into British or French divisions, and would not do so ex- cept in grave crisis.” To the French he said: ‘As to the ques- tion of placing American units in French divisions for actual service, there are many real obstacles in the way. The differences of language, military methods and na- tional characteristics above referred to would seriously hinder complete coépera- tion necessary in combat. Moreover, the American people would not approve of giving up the integrity of our organization and scattering it among French and British units. Such a plan would prevent the final building up of a cohesive, aggressive, self- reliant American force which must be de- pended upon to deliver | the final blows necessary to end the war.’ . General Pershing’s Note The training of the American troops in France had not progressed with the speed desired. Those of us who were over there in the winter of 1917-18 will never forget the maddening delays, or the general despondency among the French and British forces and the French population, induced by the collapse of Russia, and German triumphs in that direction; the Italian debacle, in which 300,000 men, 3000 guns and enormous stores were lost to the enemy; the failure of the Allied armies to achieve anything more than local attacks which proved wholly insufficient against the German defense, despite a superiority on the Western Front in 1917 of 20 per cent in strength; and finally the failure of American help to reach the battlefront, after the Allies had been led to hope for our participation in force before winter set in. This delay was partly due to the shipping situation, but the handicap of French tutelage had a lot to do with it also. A memorandum written by a member of the American General Staff stated: ‘Reports have been made by several officers whose units have been most closely associated with French units and, while appreciating the value of French assistance, the opinion is very generally expressed that beyond the details of trench tactics, our troops have made better progress under their own in- structors and according to our own meth- ods. This, of course, does not apply to our staff officers, who have derived great ben- efit from assoc iation with corresponding French staffs.”’ Finding that the American commander in chief could not be bent to accept their views, the French proceeded to go over his head to Washington. General Pershing wrote to M. Clemenceau on January 5, 1918, Clemenceau being then President of the Council. “Dear Mr. President: Permit me to quote the following cablegram from the War Department at Washington: ‘The French Ambassador called on Secretary of War to-day and read to him a dispatch from M. Clemenceau to the effect that General Pershing and General Petain had conferred as to the wisdom of seasoning of American troops by attaching their regi- mental units to French divisions before committing 2@ part of the line to an Amer- ican division made up of troops not so accustomed to actual front conditions. M. Clemenceau’s cablegram stated that Gen- eral Pershing had reported himself and General Petain in substantial agreement on this subject, but General Petain con- veyed to M. Clemenceau an opposite opin- ion. The French urge the action outlined above as being safer for the American troops than it would be to give them at once an independent place in the line, and urge very strongly that the Secretary of War here accept their view and commend it to you. This the Secretary of War is not willing to do, desiring to leave the matter wholly within your discretion, after full consideration of the important elements of the matter.’ **May I not suggest to you, my dear Mr. President, the inexpediency of communi- cating such matters to Washington by cable? These questions must all be settled here, eventually, on their merits, through friendly conference between General Petain and myself, and cables of this sort are very likely, I fear, to convey the impression in Washington of serious disagreement be- tween us when such is not the case. “With cordial sentiments of high per- sonal esteem and regard id The answer given by Secretary of War Baker to the French Ambassador on this occasion was in line with his whole conduct of American effort in the war. He made his appointments, and then he stuck by those men through thick and thin. No matter what political pressure was brought to bear on him, Baker steadfastly insisted on decisions being made by the man on the spot. Speaking at a dinner after the war Pershing paid the secretary the public tribute of saying that no commander in chief in American history had been so loyally supported by his chief. In my opinion Mr. Baker was much un- derestimated by the general public. He was a man of exceptional breadth of knowledge and accurate information on many subjects, a man of extraordinary precision of mind, and the courage to stand by his decisions. Critical Months roops were not arriving as fast as the commander in chief had recommended, and on December second he cabled the War Department: ‘‘It is of the utmost impor- tance to the Allied cause that we move swiftly. The minimum number of troops we should plan to have in France by the end of June is 4 Army Corps of 24 divisions, in addition to troops of service of the rear. . . . This figure is given as the lowest we should think of and is placed no higher because the limit of available trans- portation would not seem to warrant it. Paragraph 4. A study of transportation facilities shows sufficient American ton- nage to bring over this number of troops, but to do so there must be a reduction in the tonnage allotted to other than Army needs. It is estimated that the shipping needed will have to be rapidly increased up to 2,000,000 tons by May, in addition to the amount already allotted. The use of shipping for commercial purposes must be curtailed as much as possible. The Allies are very weak and we must come to their relief this year, 1918. The year after may be too late. It is very doubtful if they can hold on until 1919 unless we give them a lot of support this year. It is therefore strongly recommended that a complete readjust- ment of transportation be made.” At the beginning of 1918 the general situation can best be summed up in the words of a report compiled for the General Staff: ‘‘(a) The offensive during the first part of 1918 appears to have definitely passed into the hands of Germany, and this advantage will probably be retained by her until 1919. **(b) Germany’s probable superiority dur- ing 1918 will be such as to cause her to seek to bring about a war of manoeuver. But Germany cannot be sure of bringing about such a result, and her choice of the regions in which to launch her offensive will be modified by the necessity of in- flicting a great moral blow on the Allies as the minimum result of her efforts. “(d) France is — sensitive con- ——— the region St hiel-St. Quen- tin, while England is especially sensitive concerning the regions contiguous to the (Continued on Page 32) a epee me moan ent

Page 33

FIRESTONE CORDS Firestone Cord values have given users a new high standard of mile- age and service. For 1922 Firestone Cords have been selected by sixty seven of the foremost American car makers as standard equipment. They lead in popularity too among taxical and motor transport companies who buy on the strictest mileage basis 30 x 3'4, $17.50 32 x 4, $32.40 33 x 4%o, $42.85 33 x 5, $52.15 SATURDAY EVENING POST They Come Firestone Equipped It makes T is evidence of the recognition ac- corded Firestone quality that on most of America’s fine cars Firestone Tires are standard equipment. Significant, too, is the fact that when these cars come Firestone equipped they usually stay Firestone equipped. Quality once so definitely learned is not likely to be forgotten. The reason for such marked prefer- ence for Firestone is mileage. these tires the choice likewise of lead- ing taxicab companies and motor trans- who check port operators - carefully mileage costs. In short the men who know tire values best endorse Firestones. Their experience and their permanent choice are valid reasons why you should select Firestones when you buy your next tires. 30x3'2 extra size non Skid, the best known tre in the light car class Higher in quality than ever and now being pro duced on a scale that per mits its being sold at the lowest price on record The same unusual value in 30 x 3 size at $9 85 Most Miles per Dollar

Page 34

See what happens . when anyone tampers with NS PROTOD- Greenbac Forgery-Proof Checks (Protected in U. S, Patent Office) At the first touch of the forger’s acid, out come the hidden words,‘‘ VOID.”’ No human skill can restore the surface pattern. The check becomes null and void. These new scientific checks are al- colors for the face. Printed or litho- graphed with your own exclusive design—the ‘“‘bank note’? among checks; strong, dignified. $1,000.00 insurance policy to users of P®otectograph System against al- teration of payee’s name, date, num- ber, or raised amount. FREE Write on your own business + Se PROTOD- stationery for Greenbac sample checks and a little book showing “FAMOUS FORGERIES” EXACTLY Model Protectograph Check Writer backed by $10,000 insurance . ~~ ™ policy against al- : > teration of SS amount only, ~ whenused without PRO- TOD checks Todd 2-color patent Todd Protectograph Co. (Established 1800) 1144 University Ave., Rochester, N. Y. Desirable openings inecertain territories for salesraen and experienced specialty men whocan qualify asdistrict managers. THE SATURDAY (Continued from Page 30) Channel ports. This sensitiveness is such as to make it possible for Germany to choose her objectives in such a way as to reduce the cooperation between the French and English, “(g) . . » We must bear a principal part in the main offensive for the reason that the other countries have suffered nearly all the important losses they will stand except in defense. “‘(h) During the early part of 1918 our troops will not be instructed, equipped, or sufficiently numerous to take a materially eat part in the war. They will not there- ore be suitable for a general reserve. Asa last resort they must, of course, be used to the last man, but to parcel them out and use them up prematurely in piecemeal means eliminating the possibility of launch- ing a great Allied offensive in 1919. “Political situation: To take full account of political considerations it is necessary to inquire not only into national aspi- rations but also into national antipathies and possible ulterior motives of govern- ments. . . . France desires Alsace- Lorraine. It is believed that many French people suspect ulterior motives on the part of the English. . . . The British consider that the French methods are unreasonable in many cases and feel that the French are more interested in having their own ideas prevail than in winning the war. . . . “England, France and the United States all contain certain elements who realize more fully the national necessities for after- the-war commerce than they realize that the war must be won before an after-the- war commerce can be established. Whether or not the above estimates are correct, it is undoubtedly true that the French and English relations are none too harmonious. It seems equally true that each of the na- tions is jealous lest the other's influence over America be greater than their own.” Shortage of Man Power “Tn favor of throwing our forces in with the English, we find the increased morale which would benefit England. Due to the permet «| heavy losses, with but little corresponding gain, which the British suf- | fered in 1917, there appears to be little doubt that the present political and moral condition of England is less favorable than is that of France. It is to be remembered, however, that this condition may only last for a moment. “ Against changing our plans—to be more intimately associated on land with the French than with the British—we must con- sider the suspicions which would be raised in the French mind, suspicions which would be | aggravated by German propaganda. It has been suggested that it would be desirable to place our troops between the British and the French. It is difficult for us to avoid friction now, and to place our forces between those of our allies would : | increase our difficulties. We are on French ways Green on the back; choice of | would appear we must soil and must use French facilities and it et along with the French unless we decide to turn all our forces over unreservedly to the British. “The constantly increasing efforts which not only the British but the French are | making to induce us to put our troops into their units seems to be indicative of a grow- ing necessity for raising the morale of our Allies and of a deep anxiety on their part concerning the possibilities of the next few | months.” Only one American division had ap- peared on any portion of the front up to the first weeks of January, 1918, training not having been completed; but we had in France at the opening of the new year more than 176,000 troops. Our Allies began to feel the delay acutely and to regard the future with forebodings. The British thereupon made another proposition, on January tenth, this time to secure 150,000 American replacements for their forces. A memorandum from General Sir William Robertson, Chief of the Im- rial General Staff, set forth the plan. As it was discussed in conference later I wiil | give only the substance here. Sir William | referred to Russia’s defection and the ex- tent of the Italian disaster, emphasized the diminished man power of France and stated that heavy losses had compelled the British to cut down their divisions from twelve to nine battalions. On the other hand the Germans had placed twelve more divisions on the Western Front, bringing them from the east, so whereas the combined French and British divisions were fewer by eleven EVENING POST than they had been, Germany’s strength had increased to a net gain of thirty-nine divisions. General Robertson conveyed the information that Germany could bring forty more divisions to the Western Front by the summer, but Britain would have 2 per cent less infantry by then. “If France and England do not receive substantial American military assistance before the summer,” he said, “‘the assist- ance America is now preparing may come too late to admit of the entente securing the kind of peace for which they are fighting.” Again: ‘The main difficulty in making your help available lies in sea transport, and from this point of view it is clear that to bring from America a given number of men with all necessary equipment, horses, etc., as complete divisions means an infi- nitely greater shipping effort than to brin the same number of men as battalions, “ne | without transport of any kind—which could be found by us. Having regard to the general critical situation and to the short- age of our manpower my Government is pronees. in order to secure infantry rein- orcements immediately, to run very consid- erable risks in the reduction of our present stocks of food and war material in the hope that later on the American commer- cial fleet, as it gradually increases, may be able to give compensation for the cargo shut out by the carriage of the reinforce- ments. All could be done without in any way interfering, now or in the future, with the transport for the American army as at present arranged, and it is estimated that 150,000 additional men—or 150 battalions— could be brought over within 3 or 4 months of the time it is decided to permit of their employment in the manner indicated. . . . It would not serve any very useful purpose to put these American units into British formations unless they could remain there for a reasonable period of time—say 4 or 5 Monte. « « “The great difficulty which confronts you in acceding to the above request is the very natural one of national sentiment and the desire to retain national identity. This is fully appreciated by the British govern- ment, who feel that if America can accept the proposal she will thereby display the = possible magnanimity and sacri- ce. This was an appeal calculated to touch the American spirit of sacrifice. Later in the memorandum General Robertson says: “T have already dealt with (a)’’—General Pershing’s suggestion to bring over divi- sions in place of battalions, so that the American Army might be built up without further delay—‘‘in discussing transport; and the 2 or 3 extra divisions which the available tonnage would bring would not, I feel sure, be deemed by my Government sufficient justification for the risks incurred in providing the tonnage.” General Robertson’s Statement At a conference some time later, the Chief of the Imperial General Staff again made it plain that the British could not make sacrifices in shipping unless they were to obtain use of the American troops so transported. “It is however,” Sir William urged in support of the British proposal, ‘‘a matter of national sentiment on the one hand and on the other of Germany establishing her- self in a winning position if your assistance does not come in time. . . . As you are aware, the French Prime Minister feels equally with the British government the inestimable value of the proposal and has no desire whatever to raise difficulties in regard to its application to the French Army as well as to the British Army.” The American commander in chief for- warded the British proposals to Washing- ton, and in notifying the British of this step, took occasion to inquire into their man power. “In view of the national senti- ment in our country against service under an allied flag at this time, it is deemed of the utmost importance, if the above plan be considered by my government, that the British government declare its purpose to exert every energy to keep its own forces as strong in man power as possible. Only with this general understanding in America would the foregoing plan meet with ap- proval there. I would request a full state- ment from you as to British resources in this regard, including those at present available and to become available during this year.” General Robertson lost no time in reply- ing. He furnished figures with which the April 29, 1922 world has been made familiar—that the United Kingdom had raised and main- tained 7,500,000 men for its armed forces, and of these over 4,000,000 were at that time being carried on the strength of the armies. By bending every effort in 1918, the British could make available for serv- ice at the front 449,000 men then under training, plus 100,000 more to be called up. In his book issued since the war General Robertson has furnished some figures which throw additional light on what the Amer- ican commander in chief was trying to get at by his queries. ‘‘There were at the be- ginning of 1918 nearly 1,500,000 men in the United Kingdom borne on the strength of the army,” says Sir William in his book, “and it was frequently asked why the number should be so great. It certainly was much greater than it ought to have been, and as C. I. G. S. I had many times endeavored, though without much success, to get it reduced. The responsibility for reducing it rested with the Army Council as a whole and not with the General Staff, as each department of the War Office re- tained men at home on services connected with its own special duties, and the Gen- eral Staff could do nothing except try to bring about a reduction so as to set free more men for the battle fronts.” “Tt was frequently asked why the num- ber should be so great!’’ Nearly 1,500,000 men were borne on the strength of the armies at home in England when the Brit- ish government was asking for 150,000 American troops as replacements for Brit- ish divisions. Pressure on General Pershing An explanation of the British difficulty in maintaining their strength on the West- ern Front may possibly be found in another part of Sir William -Robertson’s book. “There were, towards the end of 1917,” he writes, “probably no fewer than 1,200,000 men in distant theaters, who, be it noted, were mainly fighting Turks and Bulgars and not Germans, and although a large proportion of them were native troops and therefore not altogether suitable for em- ployment in France, they contained a con- siderable number of British troops who could well be spared without incurring any risk, as our successes in Palestine and Mesopotamia had removed all danger to Egypt, Persia, and India. By reducing our forces in these theaters to a defensive minimum we would set free not only more troops for the West Front but also more shipping for the Americans. As already shown, this was not done.” At this juncture it may be well to explain what the French and British propositions aimed at and what effect their adoption would have had on American effort. The government of each of these countries strove to get the United States to consent to the American forces being split up and amalgamated in its armies by small units. In other words, American soldiers would have fought by battalion or regimental units under British or French command. The United States would have been utilized as a great reservoir to supply the British and French armies and furnish replacements. Boiled down to a few words, that is what their every proposition amounted to. Day in and day out, month after month, the French and British persisted in this purpose. They brought to bear every con- ceivable form of pressure to gain their point. In emergency the United States yielded some temporary relief in the way they desired—but all that will show in good time. It early developed into a con- test between the two Allies for the use of our troops, a contest provoking no little bitterness; but on occasion, when there was some advantage to be gained by a united front, they acted in concert. Had Pershing surrendered to the con- stant and powerful pressure brought to bear—had he even backed up an inch there would never have been any American Army in France, and the history of 1918 would have been different. At a conference on January 24, 1918, in Compiégne, which was attended by Gen- eral Petain, Sir Douglas Haig, Generals Robertson, Foch, Pershing, Davidson and Lawrence, both Petain and Robertson re- marked, in reviewing the situation, that their only hope lay in the American re- serves. Without them, offensives or counter- offensives could not be undertaken. They asked the American commander in chief for a statement of the state of his forces (Continued on Page 34)

Page 35

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Jimmie Caldwell says! 12,543 miles of hard driving 28 miles to the gallon of gas No trouble Jimmie Caldwell, of Dallas, Texas, one of the many thousands of traveling men who drive the Overland, supplied the figures. His experience gives graphic proof of the sound engineering and careful workmanship which make Overland the outstanding value in owners’ service. “In calling the Overland the ‘Economy Car,” you have certainly named it right. I have kept exact cost on my operating expenses from the day I bought my machine. “At the completion of the 12,543 miles, this is what I found: I had used 478 gallons of gas. This figures up an average of about 28 miles to the gallon. Overland, always a good investment of any kind “My total expenses up to that time, including gas, oil, tire repair, storage, washing and all other expenses, averaged 3.7 cents a mile. “I have traveled Texas, Oklahoma and New Mexico,regardless of road conditions or weather. I have never been pulled in except on one occa- sion, when I ran out of gas. I have never been delayed on the road by trouble of any kind.” Other owners’ letters record similar satisfac- tion with the comfortable, dependable, econom- ical, completely equipped New Series Overland. Could there be any more convincing proof of the Overland’s unequaled value as America’s Comfortable Low-Cost Car? now the greatest automobile value in America WILLYS-OVERLAND, INC., Toledo, Ohio +» Canadian Factory: WiliysOverland, Ltd.,Toronto Touring Car.$550 Coupé. $850 Roadster....$550 Sedan. $895 F. O. B. Toledo

Page 36

(J uta e He: “Right key at last!” She: “Don’t tell me you’ve found it!” And She some more: “How very clever of you to find it after only five minutes!” Martrer of fact it’s the fault of the method not the man. His keys are in a time-wast- ing, pocket-bulging bunch. He ought to have a Buxton Keytainer, A Keyrainer keeps keys flat, orderly, and free from tang- ling alliances. As convenient for women as for men. Pre- vents key-worn pockets and key-torn bag linings. Vari- ous leathers; sizes holding 1 to 16 keys; from 25c to $5.00. The new Buxton key-hook looks like this Ce» ~The hump pre- vents loss of keys. Wear your keys the correct way, in a Buxton Keytainer. At your dealer’s. DEALERS: Write for information on 330 introductory assortment. BUXTON INC., SPRINGFIELD, MASS. MARBRIDGE BLDG., NEW YORK Dept. 8. tn Canada: Rowland & Campbell, Led.,Winni- peg: Julian Sule Leather Goods Co., Toronto, BUXTON KEYTAINER The original patented Key-Kase (Continued from Page 32) General Pershing pointed out that the question had resolved itself into one of transportation and that nothing he might say could make the troops come faster. He wished them to understand clearly, however, that any real offensive in which the Americans took part would be executed by them as an American Army, and he could not approve the principle of loaning men to the Allies except in an emergency. The British were still pressing their pre- posals for the transport of 150,000 Amer- ican infantry to be amalgamated i in British divisions, and their plan became the sub- ject of a conversation between Marshal Joffre and the American commander in chief on January twenty-sixth. Joffre was against the scheme. He thought incorporation of American battalions in British divisions would have a bad effect. The Americans would find themselves commanded by a | British general and British staff, and this would inevitably lead to resentment and :| friction; in case of a reverse there would be a tendency to blame the command. As indicative that the British proposal was not in line with their own policy and practice, Marshal Joffre pointed out that the British had never found it desirable in the whole course of the war to incorporate Canadian troops in British divisions. He considered that the effect of amalgamation on the American people at home would seriously cool their fervor and create com- plications. A very frank discussion of the British proposals took place at a conference in the Trianon Palace, Versailles, on January twenty-ninth. Present at this conference were Premier Lloyd George, Viscount Mil- ner, General Sir William Robertson, Field Marshal Haig, General Sir H. H. Wilson, Lieut. Col. Sir M. P. A. Hankey, General Pershing, General Bliss, and Colonel Boyd, aide to Pershing. Mr. Lloyd George’s Argument Lloyd George opened proceedings by asking what the situation was in regard to the proposed incorporation of American battalions in British brigades, to which Pershing replied that the question was in abeyance, pending action of the British Government on General Robertson’s dis- patch. Sir William Robertson then announced that, contrary to their understanding, Gen- eral Pershing had not approved the British plan in forwarding it to Washington and had not intended that the Administration at Washington should believe he did. General Pershing had felt very strongly the objec- tions involved, and his counter-proposition was to bring over not only the infantry but the rest of the combat troops in these divisions as well. So, said Sir William, there would be sufficient transport for only seventy-two battalions instead of the one hundred and fifty they had hoped for, if complete American divisions were brought over, and the question arose as to whether it was worth while for the British to carry out the transaction in view of the shipping sacrifices involved David Lloyd George then took up the discussion. He read a cable which General Bliss, of the United States Army, had re- ceived in London; the Prime Minister in- sisted that this cable meant Washington had agreed to the British proposition. Some argument followed, in which Gen- eral Bliss remarked that the whole ques- tion was getting mixed up and that the Washington pac did not express approval of the British proposals. Instead, Wash- ington submitted the question to General Pershing, and the latter did not approve. Mr. Lloyd George reiterated that the British Government had understood from a telegram it received from General Per- shing that he approved of bringing over one hunted and fifty battalions for incorpora- tion in British brigades. To this, the American commander in chief replied that he had never approved the proposition and had never gone on record to that effect. Lloyd George remarked that his govern- ment had interpreted the words “serious consideration”’ as tantamount to approval. Pershing told him they were not, how- ever—that he had only submitted the plan to Washington for consideration, and in a subsequent cable had emphasized the im- portance of keeping the American troops under command of their own officers. At this point Sir William Robertson drew attention to the fact that the Wash- | ington reply referred only to the shipping THE SATURDAY EVENING POST difficulty and not to the political difficulty, so he had surmised Washington enter- tained no objections to the proposal. This hint brought Lloyd George again to the fore. He said he had gained the im- pression that the question was now up to General Pershing for decision. It seemed to him that the Washington Government wanted a statement from General Pershing as to whether a military emergency actu- ally existed. Speaking from a politician’s standpoint, he thought they wanted a recommendation from General Pershing; that he himself knew what Secretary Baker wanted—he wanted a statement from the —_ commander in chief that a mili- emergency existed. 'wo things had to be considered, argued Mr. Lloyd George. First, the placing of these American soldiers in British units was a necessity; second, they must con- sider the consequences of the disaster which might follow failure to do so. They must consider what a terrible thing might hap- pen were Germany to turn on the British on the Western Front with all her resources, and possibly some Austrian divisions too. If Sir Douglas Haig were to report to him that a military emergency existed for put- ting British battalions in French divisions he would understand that Haig looked on it as something that had to be done and he himself would be protected by Haig’s state- ment for the necessity of such action. After a certain period of war, continued Mr. Lloyd George, every administration was severely criticized. In England the overnment had fallen; the same thing ad happened in France. If he were in Secretary Baker’s place he would be re- lieved to receive a recommendation from General Pershing in favor of the scheme. General Pershing expressed the opinion that the adoption of this measure would so antagonize national sentiment that political outbursts would create a general opposition against the direction of the war, and the President would be exposed to bitter crit- icism. The Irish population would very naturally resent giving the United States troops for service in the British Army. All sorts of questions would be raised as to why our divisions were not competent to perform as units under American com- mand. The question would be asked whether we were in the war to fight for Britain, and there would inevitably follow misunderstanding as to why our officers did not lead their own men. A Question of Method Mr. Lloyd George interposed that the battalions would be under American officers, The commander in chief replied that the brigade and division commanders would be British, and the Americans would be acting under their orders. Before any such pro- gram could be carried out such a storm of disapproval would be raised that the project would have to be abandoned. The acceptance of this proposal was bound to create a breach of feeling between the Brit- ish and American people, and stir the jeal- ousy of the French, who would allege British domination. Moreover, it would be a dis- sipation of the present effort to build up a strong American Army. In his opinion it did not matter so much where the troops were in line—the thing was to get them there—so why not as an American force? Replying to General Pershing, Lloyd George said the proposition was pased on the fact that it took longer to train divisions than it did battalions, and the urgency was great. He then asked Sir Douglas Haig a question, and Haig remarked that a German attack might be expected any time; the Germans were moving to the Western Front an average of nine or ten divisions per month. Sir Henry Wilson said by the first of May the Germans might sites with ninety-six divisions they had available, and they might have on the Western Front at that time two hundred and fifteen divisions—already o- had one hundred and seventy-four. yeneral Pershing said that if the Ger- mans attacked as soon as indicated, the American troops the British wanted could be of no assistance anyhow, for they could not be brought over that soon. Amplifying his objections to the proposal he offered instead a plan to have the British bring over the entire combatant personnel of the divisions, giving the British the in- fantry and auxiliary services, and leaving the artillery to be instructed according to the same plans and on the same grounds as April 29, 1922 were now being used by the Americans, using French instructors and matériel. By this plan the infantry and artillery could be united under one of our own com- manders when they had been sufficiently instructed. The Allies had not only to look forward to 1918, but probably to a campaign in 1919 also, for which the American Army must be large and strong. For this reason he could not afford to break up ten divisions, which would be required of him in order to carry out the British scheme. General Pershing submitted that his own proposal would occasion very short delay and would render the usefulness of the American forces much more valuable. And the American people would certainly regard a British offer to transport the en- tire personnel of divisions as very generous. Sir William Robertson stated that the British could not place the proposed transportation at the disposition of the Americans indefinitely. He contended that the British plan would result in getting ahead faster. General Pershing again reminded them that troops of one nationality would not amalgamate with those of another; the men would soon become disgruntled and would not do themselves credit. The forces of the British dominion served only in divisions of their own, and the British had refused a plan submitted early in the war to amalgamate with the French. At that, Lloyd George took up the cudgels. He said the British had every reason to refuse to amalgamate with the French in the beginning of the war. Be- sides, they had done something in the very first part of the war—they had five or six divisions of the very highest quality to put in from the beginning. Whereas the Amer- icans had been in the war since last April. General Pershing reminded him that the Canadians had not amalgamated with the British. A Lively Debate Sir William Robertson said there had never been any call for that; and as a matter of fact the French had never asked the British to amalgamate with them. Existing conditions pointed to the propo- sition to incorporate one hundred and fifty battalions in British divisions as the best way to meet the situation. yeneral Pershing replied that we would not meet the military situation better by one plan than by the other. Sir Douglas Haig now took part in the discussion, observing that the situation was more serious than he had previously thought. General Petain informed him the French would have to disband twenty divisions by the end of 1918 without any fighting, and that such a fight as the Ger- mans might be expected to pt up would cost at least 500,000 men o: thirty divi- sions. With twenty divisions suppressed and thirty more put out by the fighting, the French Army would be reduced by fifty divisions. That was a very serious matter. Sir Douglas concluded by dwell- ing on the difficulty of organizing new divi- sions and the usefulness of the Americans in battalion units according to the plan proposed. General Pershing had been speaking only from theory, while he spoke from experience, he said. A general discussion ensued, and then, in reply to a remark by Sir Douglas Haig, General Pershing said that the British commander in chief seemed to imply that the United States was to continue feeding recruits to the British Army. He de- manded to know where this proposition was supposed to stop. In his opinion it should stop now, and every effort should be exerted to build up an American Army. Haig stated he had always understood the scheme was to be a stepping stone to- ward training and turning out American divisions rapidly. In that case, replied General Pershing, he and the field marshal were in entire accord, if Sir Douglas meant what he said. Sir Douglas remarked that he was speaking English. Later, during an argument as to whether these battalions would be with the British for training or really to make up a shortage Haig admitted that, incidentally, they would make up a shortage. General Pershing announced that he was quite willing to have American troops trained in the British Army and had actually telegraphed this as a recommenda- tion. But he understood that Sir William Robertson’s plan comprehended feeding (Continued on Page 36) eee ee nears t e

Page 37

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Veteran Goodyear users tell us that our tires today give more than twice the mile- age they did ten years ago LN \ ™ ‘\ \e ‘ ~ ~ “a ge The average decrease in the price of Goodyear Tires since the year 19/0 is more than sixty per cent —~G4s QUALITY WAS NEVER SO HIGH PRICES WERE NEVER SO LOW It is a favorite practice nowadays to refer more or less sagely to the good values of ‘*before the war.’’ So far as tires are concerned, any such refer- ence is an illusion. The plain fact is, pre-war tire values were only a pale shadow alongside those of today. Every tire in the Goodyear line proves this to be true. If you are a veteran Goodyear user you have probably noticed that our tires today give more than twice the mileage they did ten years ago. If you have compared the prices of then and now you have seen that present Goodyear prices are less than half of what they were. 30 x 3% Fabric 30 x 3'o All-Weather Tread Fabric 30 x 3'4 All-Weather Tread Cord : Cross-Rib 32x 344 Tread Cord 32 x 4 All-Weather Tread Core 33 x 4 All-Weather Tread Cord $10.95 $14.75 $18.00 Manufacturer D/P All-Weather Just to make this clear, consider our 30x3'%- inch Cross-Rib clincher. In 1910, for example, you paid $33.90 for this size tire. ‘Today, for a vastly better tire cf the same type, you pay $10.95! All other Goodyear Tires show similarly im- portant reductions, the average decrease in price since 1910 being more than 60 per cent. Goodyear quality was never so high—Good- year tires today are larger, heavier and more durable than ever before. Goodyear prices were never so low—as the figures here listed will show. m . 33 x 41g All-Weather $25.50 Tread Cord $4 x 4! All-Weather $32.40 Tread Cord $33.40 35 x § All-Weather Tread Cord lax extra Ee, $42.85 $43.90 $54.75 Copyright 1922, by The Goodyear Tire & Rubber Co., Inc.

Page 38

‘ < ¥ bg Ye: oe ea annie oe’,

ROCKLAND, MAss. I believe that the men and women who buy my shoes are entitled to their money’s worth,

Never before has it been so important for the buying publicto know just J what a good shoe is really [7 worth. £ Solbrandmynameand [F a fair and square retail price on the sole of every Emerson shoe at the fac- tory, which is my personal |] guarantee of honest value to the wearer. You neverhave toworry about the fairness of the price. Youare always sure of getting your money’s worth in Emerson Shoes.

Visit the local Emerson || Store or Agency in your | | town and see our wide variety of smart styles for Spring and Summer. If youdo not findone in | | your vicinity write for cat- alog of Value Guaranteed Shoes. Look for the Emerson Shoe with the fair price branded on the sole.

b faa QO mason For Men and Women $5.00 $6.00 $7.00 $8.00 Junior Emersons for Boys $5.00 and $6.00 Shoes made with genuine Vici kid lin- ings; archsupports; cushion solesand other orthopedic and custom details. $9.00 and $10.00

HONEST ALL THROUGH

THE SATURDAY (Continued from Page 34) American troops into the British line as a more or less permanent arrangement. Lloyd George said the British War Cabinet had never understood this. Sir Douglas reiterated that he quite understood the proposition was intended for the training of American troops. Still unconvinced that this understand- ing was clear in all quarters, General Per- shing stated that he had gathered from Sir William Robertson that the latter wanted the American battalions put into British divisions to fill up the depleted British battalions. Viscount Milner now intervened for the first time. His understanding was that Pershing would get his divisions formed more rapidly by passing them through the British line than by confining his training to the American camps. After General Robertson had read aloud a memorandum covering the conditions | said that he happened to be in a slight hurry. Twenty minutes later he was swung abruptly upright. ‘Lilac on the face, sir? A bit of fragrant tonic on the hair?” A wild light shone in Mr. Peavy’s eyes. “Both,” he commanded recklessly. With the touch of fragrant tonic mingling with the remains of the straight fifteen- center Mr. Peavy paid his check and passed out. At the first corner he consulted the huge hunter which dangled from the Elk’s charm and chain. It was 6:55. He ex- tinguished the fifteen-center and boarded a surface car bound uptown. Twenty minutes later a fat little man, his thinning hair most marvelously parted and exuding the pungent fragrance of bud- ding lilacs, peered into the Ladies’ Room of the Restmere Hotel. In a far corner a stiff figure in black and spangles sat between a giggling young thing of thirty-four and a stolid mountain of seal and kolinsky. The little man smiled broadly and c oy <d to the sofa. *Lo, Henny,” he bubbled. ‘Sorry I was late. Got held up. You know!” The lady in black sniffed suspiciously and then nodded her head as if confirming some preconceived theory. “Didn't want to be late. You know that, Henny. Especially a night like to-night. Just wait till you hear why —— The lady continued to nod—grimly. ‘‘Where are your rubbers?” The silly little thing of giggled outright. The little man laughed nerv ously. “It’s all right, Henny. Let’s go in an’ eat. There’s a fine new picture at the —— ““When did you take those rubbers off?” Someone else in the background of faces laughed outright. A desperate inspiration thirty-four | came to the little man. | table. “Come on, right. I—I door.” A belted earl conducted them through a blur of faces to an inconspicuous corner of the Fountain Room. On the right a huge palm separated the pair from another small On the left an aisle, and at its end the famous fountain sprayed with vari- colored lights and huge goldfish darting, like golden blades, against the blue-green Henny,” he said. “It’s all I left them out at the front | of the plate-glass tank. | in the rime about the R months.” | little man was trying The little man smacked his lips appre- ciatively and peered over the huge menu at the ominous figure of his companion. “Swell! Eh, Henny?” Henny’s lips were a straight line. ‘“‘If you can afford goldfish with your meals it is.” “We can. A sniff. For the moment the little man chose to ignore it. ‘Oysters, Henny?’ “No.” “But Henny, they, waiter? Wait till you hear.” they’re still good. Ain’t You know what they say The hard—to ignore the calm.

Henny said it dryly: “It isn’t R’s s that my stomach objects to—it’s oysters.’ ‘Tha little man laughed gayly at this - too gayly. “Some joke! Eh, waiter?” The waiter thought so. The lady did not.

EVENING POST for the incorporation of the American battalions, General Pershing resumed state- ment of his objections. He said he wished to make a clear distinction between placing battalions with the British fcr training and placing them there for service. Fighting was the best training troops could have, but he wanted them to grasp clearly that American battalions were not coming to stay in British divisions, but merely to train until ready for incorporation in divi- sions of their own. On hearing this, Lloyd George asked if the general proposed to take the battalions out of line before the fighting was over, thereby leaving each British division shy three battalions. “Do you think anyone would change during the fighting?’’ demanded Pershing. “Would you take them out when you wanted them?” persisted Lloyd George. “T would.” General Pershing added that he insisted on being free to take over THE TIP (Continued from Page 15) “Roast beef,” she said briefly, “‘fried ss mixed tea and a chocolate éclair.”’ “Aw, Henny! Don’t you want some- thing different? Some of this New Jersey duckling or “The fried-potato order will do for two.’ The little man dropped the card discon- solately. “All right,” he said bitterly. the whole thing for two.” Water goblet in hand his bitterness left him. “Henny! Henny!” he hoarsely. ‘“Lookit! Lookit!’’ “At what?” “Coming towards us. waiter. See?” “Well?” “Don’t you see him?” “T see,” said Henny quite calmly, “a dried-up man that looks as if he never slept eight hours in his whole life.”’ The little man tossed his head in com- plete disgust. “Ain’t that just like a woman?” he whispered under cover of the dinner card. “Calling a man like Henry Loveret dried up an’ never sleeping! Can you beat it?” “Oh,” said Henny, quite without emo- tion, ‘“‘so that is Henry Loveret, is it? I read about him in the paper last Sunday. The paper says they call him the Wolf of Wall Street—the poor man!” “Poor!” ejaculated the little man. “Can you beat that? Why, do you know how many millions he is worth? Do you, Henny? Well, it’s more than you have fingers and toes. An’ all in the last three years too! Started as a board boy at Hallet & Hallet. Saved up and made a little clean-up! Made a little bigger clean-up! Then came the big bear market of 1920. Gosh! The money he made! An’, Henny ”’—insidiously—“‘he didn’t start out with any more than we got now.” “From his looks,” observed Mrs. Hen- rietta Peavy, ‘“he appears as if he won't have very much longer to enjoy it.’ Mr. Peavy, for it was he, leaned as far over the table as his generous rotundity would permit. “But we have, Henny!” he whispered impressively. ‘‘And we have it coming to us. Listen! I have it straight this time— straight from Ashbrooke himself! An’, Henny! He patted me on the back when he told me! W. e’re going to be rich, Henny!

“Make whispered With the head Peavy stopped him with an ominous forefinger. “Oliver J. Peavy,’’ she Siinainded, “when was the first time you made me come downtown to dinner this way?” “Well, now, Henny ——’ “It was just about eleven years ago. We had saved up just fourteen hundred dollars for the farm. We needed nearly two thousand more and it looked so far off—and you said you had your informa- tion so direct ——” “Oh, now, Henny —— “‘We said that it would be a lesson to us, didn’t we? And we went to work harder than ever. And then when we had nearly a thousand again, after four years of the hardest kind of saving—you—you invited me to come downtown to dinner again.” “But, Henny, Mead himself. straight tip—almost. ” I had it straight from What you might call a Mead knew a man April 29,1922

these American battalions whenever they were sufficiently trained to be united into American divisions. The British Prime Minister next in- quired whether Pershing would be pre- pared to put in more American battalions to replace those taken away. The Amer- ican commander in chief replied that he would like to be informed where they would come from. Were he to furnish replacements it would interfere with the project of organizing an American Army. Anything done to carry out the English plan would have to be a perfectly separate and independent scheme from the formation of the Amer- ican Army. Shortly after this the conference ad- journed, Mr. Lloyd George intimating that he wanted to confer with Sir Douglas Haig.

Editor’s Note—This is the first of a series of ar ticles by Mr. Pattullo. The second will appear in an early issue. that knew the vice president of the com- pany as well as I know you, and—and —— At the table behind the palms a tired, fidgety old man of thirty-six had ceased to inhale his long brown cigarette. It was perhaps just as well he had not asked the captain to move him. Apartment-house talkers were not always so interesting —and the old lady was the straightest, primmest thing—like you see in moving pictures. She was speaking again: “And the vice president was wrong, wasn’t he, O. J.? “Yes; but, Henny, this is different! If a tip was ever straight this is. I got this straight from Ashbrooke himself. Why, Henny, he laid his hand on my shoulder an’ 4 “You said that before. They were always straight—until it was all over and we were starting again. No! I said to myself the last time that it would never happen again. Never! Not even if the farm never comes. If I never do open my bedroom window and feel the salt in the air.” “But listen!” “Oliver Peavy,” said the lady with cold finality, ‘‘there is no use talking. I won’t give up the bank book! We’re going to take the long way round, but the way that issure. I may look out the window at soft- coal dust for many a year, but in the end I may sniff the salt. The Massachusetts Baileys were always a long-lived clan. If you were only sober now.” “Sober!’’ The little man’s knife fell with a resounding clatter. ‘‘What do you mean, sober? That’s what you said over the phone. An’ furthermore, Henny, you know better! You know I haven't had even a touch of elde rberry wine in fifteen years. Y ou know —— “Sobriety,” said the last of the Bailey clan slowly, ‘ ‘isn’t always a matter of elderberry wine, Oliver! In—in your case it isn’t. It’s—it’s money drunkenness; and this is your third jag.” “I’ve watched it for many and many a rear. It begins when the deposit book egins to draw close to the thousand mark. You begin to get uneasy! You—you talk loud and read the stock page instead of putting on your slippers and demanding double Canfield. You get abusive with folks and talk about getting a raise or knowing the reason why. You—you smoke cigars instead of your pipe. You—you get as uneasy as Luke Tullo down home when his spree time is approaching. And then it happens. Only this time it won’t! Be- cause, Oliver J. Peavy, the bottle is going to stay locked up!” It was the moment for a determined stand. The money was his! He had worked for it. Hard! Half was his by any code. And the opportunity! It was the moment for any man—no matter how easy-going—to arise and declare himself. Mr. Peavy reddened liberally and half arose for the declaration of rights. But he didn’t. Old Tam Bailey had had the same cold eye. He sank back into the plush of the golden chair. “All right,” he laughed wildly. “All right! Go ahead. Keep me working an- other hundred years. T I—I ” And then inspiration came. “But just the same I didn’t leave the damn old rubbers at (Continued on Page 38)

Page 39

SATURDAY EVENING POST Passenger j Performance as Notable | As its Appearance Don’t Underrate Its Importance The Essex Coach operates with the And no sacrifice of these advantages nimbleness of an open car. . is made to obtain the closed car com- P Has These Fine devny eee spire y . wee See F forts furnished in the Coach. You will like the way it gets about as ; Car Details well as its good looks and comfort. Remember when buying a closed car " It won’t cause annoyance with = RMR SAO you will continue to require motor- | squeaking body and rattling doors. Sei auaiiee ciate aesedadion ing performance. You will want to You will be pleased at the little service Sun visor drive wherever you drove with your , attention required to keep it in tip- Luggage and tool locker, opened open car. You want its fleetness, its top condition. ieninilt heidi itis alae caine reliability and its economy. handle lifts on door windows Motoring pleasures come from ease Pune Siagen an osoh Gees, ond Mt These are advantages of the Essex of operation—simple control—a free, important Coach plus its protection, comfort quick, responsive car that goes at tap mse tga a laa and distinction. They are made all any pace, that darts in and out of Seattaes ahiiitinn aul aiainiiniies the more attractive by reason of traffic and flies up-hill without effort ee ee the price. | of driver or motor. For these qualities eer all know Essex excellence. You can’t ignore that. Touring, $1095 Coach, $1345 Freight and Tax Extra Go See—Ride and Compare ESSEX MOTORS, DETROIT, MICHIGAN

Page 40

Says Goodbye to ‘‘$22 a Week”’ —At 27 Earns $4,500 a Year Three years ago,’’ writes A, J. Klick, “I was just an average young man of 24, pos- sessing a fair education, liking a (so-called) upying a bookkeeper’s high stool and receiving $1,100 per year, \ crisis in my affairs woke me up and I «gan the serious study of Higher Account good time, ocr an “ Before the year was over, | was making progress financiall Interested in my work, nivancing teadhily more confident of my i} the | had I the course I had ‘ e ' 1S?.000 vear 1 } | fa ' ] “ ! arie ji tel Expert Bookk ing uM Busin ier t t \ Commercial Spa \ t ( I ctive Speakir ! 1 Pra C. P. A. Coaching i Post (Continued from Page 36) the door. I didn’t wear them down here a-tall. I'll never wear them!” Behind the palms the tired Wolf of Wall Street grinned and looked almost youthful. The old lady was a peacherino. If all the lambs were of the Clan Bailey the grist would be mighty small. But the little man had spoken of Ashbrooke. Thoughtfully he drained his coffee. Ashbrooke! It was funny that one of Ashbrooke’s tips would come to root here! Loveret wondered what Ashbrooke would look like if he could sit at the table behind the palms and listen to his confidential clerk telling tales out of school. Loveret thought. The security had not been mentioned. The old martinet had not let the jag get even that far. Loveret laughed softly. Wasitahunch? Or wasn’t it? Somewhere he had heard once—from some cynical broken-down broker—‘‘ Out of the mouths of babes a At least it wouldn’t be half bad fun, and fun was uncommon. He paid his check and arose. There was still about this Wolf of Wall Street, the supreme gambler of the big slump, much of the boy who had chalked figures on a bright green board and joked with the dopesters. Passing to the right of the aisle he | slipped, and only the presence of the table by the wall prevented an apparently nasty fall “I'm so sorry!” Popeyed with excitement, Mr. Peay could only open and close his mouth con vulsively. It was Henny who answered “Young man, you near had a bad fall.”’ Mr. Peavy regained his breath. *‘ Don't mind her, Mr Loveret * he apologized She didn't know you.” “s—t “You don't know me of cour e, Mr Loveret, but I'm with Ashbrooke, Mead 4 Oppenhein You know them. Peavy he rare The Wolf of Wall Street ac knowledged the meeting with aamile. “Asmart banker Ashbrooke,”” he emiled but too conser tive But as far as that goes, all you bankers are too ervative eh, Mr rs avy 4 Tingling, Mr. Peavy managed a knowing “ } Not alway he confided Sore tin we take a little flyer Mr Ie niffed untotioed Hu 1 thougl anh ‘ x d nr don't, Mr. Lovers He, he! They don't I to! Not when they ha ti ye righ } office th te i bankers wil Mr t thought full Deep, too.’ M i 1 a deprecating for : ! at mpregnated with a f hed chocolate éclau Not that | wou t tke to pa t along But ler und, M Loveret. Contidentia \ hxe bly onfidential We j Mr rr a wa reach ‘ ther chair N thank The Wolf said quite hast but with a diearming amils Tam late now. And and I must stop at " ' ret and get my rubbers.’ We you se sid Mr. Peavy slow! You heard him. The biggest gambler WallStreet Yousee what epportu i I have Why, Henny, in two week the farm will be ours, ar brestcles | was thinking hi wife interrupted with guiet calm about his stopping to get h rubbers ever witl all } money.” a P 9:45 the telephone at 4 tached to the ornate desk of the first vice presi dent of the National Trust Company tinkled musi cally, as became the tele phone bell of a first vice pre sident. The vice president said “Hello” curtly. “‘Loveret talking.” The v. p. said * Yes’ cordially. “T want you to confirm something I am almost sure of. Have Ashbrooke, Mead & Oppenheim THE SATURDAY EVENING POST anything in their shop now aside from poor old Stage?”’ The v. p. laughed. His best customer’s laugh. ‘‘To the best of my knowledge, not another fly.” “Certain? Nothing else that’s listed on the Board?” The v. p. thought not, giving certain reasons gleaned from financial back alleys. “Thanks! For your trouble and frank- ness I’ll tell you something: Stage isn’t going by the board. They—they must be going to get their pound of flesh some other way.” The v. p. said ‘‘Thank you,” and added, “‘But you know I never gamble.” At 10:20 the v. p. commanded an imme- diate connection with a downtown num- ber and asked for the senior partner. “Buy me a thousand §. S. P. at the market,” he commanded, and then because the senior partner really was the best of good fellows, though inclined towards jumping to hasty conclusions, he added, “It’s really not for me—but for the time being put it in my account.” The senior partner winked solemnly at the telephone and touched the button for his colleague. “Our well-known v. p. is buying S. S. P. at the market in thousand-share lots.” The junior grinned. ‘‘Hot stuff?” he inquired. “It looks that way. well-known friend.” “Would you pass it along?”’ The senior nodded his head. “It—it looks pretty good to me; and because we happen to have a rule about employes and partners speculating in this firm I was just going to suggest that I have a well-known friend with a little spare cash that want about two thousand shares.” The junior grin ed again l n't that a coincidence 1 ow ' he said. I have a friend that wants fifteen hun- dred In the building across the narrow cafion another man hung up a telephone receiver whose wire ran direct to a private suite ir the Restmere Hotel. He lit a narrow flat cigar and whistled softly “Trynamite!” he said softly. ‘Ten thou sand shares of S. S. P. at the market Where does he get his hunches? Befor this ten thousand is picked up they'll be calling it TNT.’ He called a soft-footed man and spoke to him curtl, he soft-footed man nodded und took the slip of paper. On his way out through the clatter of shirt-sleeved oper itors he topped over a scribbling forn ‘Ss. S. P. at the market,” he whis pered and went on A few moments later the seribbler loungeed through the door, then ran for an inde pendent telephone At the other end of the fat man ina dirty little office grunted with satisfaction and hung up the re- ceiver. He reached for a sheet of yellow paper whose imprint re vd He's buying for the carelessly connection a AMOS J CRSSFIUl MeNULTY BRVICE FoR TRADRRS April 29,1922 Under this caption the fat man scribbled, “To-day’s best bet is S. S. P. Hop it for at least twenty points.” To a lanky girl in an outer office he handed the sheet. “Get this out pronto. And send Collison a check for a hundred in a plain envelope.” The lanky girl giggled. Iv N THE private office of Mr. Payne Ash- brooke Mr. Oppenheim laughed nerv- ously. “It’s like throwing gasoline on fire. Spangling is nervous too! Simpson & Sayre have taken five thousand shares, and they grab every offering anywhere near the market.” Mr. Henry Mead nodded thoughtfully. ‘Well, that’s what we wanted, wasn’t it? We wanted a chance to distribute a little more stock before we greased the’skids for the big drop, didn’t we? That was why we called Peavy in, wasn’t it?”’ Mr. Oppenheim grunted contemptu- ously. ‘Sure it was,”’ he agreed. ‘But Peavy and all of the little bucketshop fry that Peavy knows couldn’t margin more than fifteen hundred shares at the outside. Does Simpson & Sayre buying thousand- share lots two points above the opening sale look like Peavy? Don’t make me laugh!" The telephone in the corner jangled. Mr. Oppenheim picked up the receiver with a jerk. A moment later he returned it to its place with an oath. “Coles just bought eight hundred, eleven hundred and a_ thousand-share block--and paid 35!, for the last thou- sand.” “Coles?” repeated Mead stupidly. “Yes, Coles! And you know who Coles stands for. So does everybody in the Street. In ten minutes it will be in every trading room in the United States. Can't you see them reading it? ‘Loveret buying S.S. P.’ Hanged if I haven’t half a mind to 9 “Wait a minute!"”" It was the first words from the head of the house. He uttered them from his position by the win- dow, where he had stood for a full twenty minutes gazing down into the busy crevice of Broad Street. ‘‘Don't be young! Don't forget that you are in the banking business. Don't forget that fora moment! What dif- ference does it make if Simpson & Sayre do take stock at the market? What difference does it make in the end if a born gambler like Loveret, even if he is able to buy and sell anyone in the Street at the moment, (Continued on Page 40

“Swell! Eh, Henny?" “If You Can Afford Goldfish With Your Meats it Is"’

Page 41

Se 5 re eR a ea parm en Re THE SATURDAY EVENING POST - Glewab Vacuum System and Speedometer Giants of the Automobile Industry —eO YOU know why almost 90 per cent of auto- MeAW mobile manufacturers are equipping the cars they é are offering you, with the Stewart Vacuum meee) System? Not only because of its perfect oper- ation under all conditions, but because it is the one gasoline feed system on which owners can obtain SERVICE from 86 Stewart Service Stations all over the world; 53 in the United ' States alone. 7 y y The same is true of Stewart, Warner and Van Sicklen Speedometers chosen by over 9o per cent of manufacturers. These instruments, long noted for their accuracy and fine — workmanship, require but little attention. Yet, should the = necessity arise, the car owner need not entrust the care of his speedometer to an average mechanic when there are Stewart-trained men in every Stewart-Warner Products Service Station. ee Ps gt de aed ET we oy Meco WMCUUN GASOLINE SYSTEM | STEWART- WARNER SPEEDOMETER COR’N a (@) al a CHICAGO, U.S.A PRODUCTS USED ON 7 MILLION CARS i _— . MILES PER HOUR 5a 1 8344) Hot! 3 SEASON Dlewar $ MAGNETIC TYPE

Page 42

Actual Sie Invincible All that rich flavor of mild, satisfying E] Dallo is sealed in —protected from | =eace anges wrap “each ci ar in its own That's wh with its ene aroma, means big ome to the smoker w wants a gener- ous sized cigar. palo “EACH CIGAR IN ITS OWN HUMIDOR climate use we Not a mere fancy foil wrapping for ae real c imate-tig ro- teetive foil and ti = humidor for “ eeps.” full money’s worth of flavor and aroma ask for El Dallo. tis- For your If your dealer doesn’t ha send one dollar ($1.00) for the Handy Pocket Edition Package E see fantactilen, t cy ; \ & > JWertheimer Bros. \ Baltimore,Md. rr om | is that old fool, Stage. | about my neck. (Continued from Page 38) thinks of Stage Steel Products? We know.” “True, but ——’”’ “We know that twenty million dollars owed to a banking syndicate headed by us must be paid in less than thirty days. And we know the money isn’t there to pay it. We know the answer!” “That’s true’”—Mr. Oppenheim licked his lips nervously—‘‘but even when you know, it’s nervous watching a market with that damned gambler in it. And then there I woke up the other night—cold, awake—and found myself wondering if he really meant what he said If he found out Ashbrooke laughed. ‘‘The trouble with you and Mead,” he said, “is, your nerve isn’t as long as your avarice.” A moment later he answered the tele- phone. “Stage Steel Products just came through on the tape at 38. Four thousand shares.” Oppenheim lumbered out of the room. In his private office he knew there was con- solation in a squat brown bottle. It would help him to remember, perhaps, that he was a banker. v HREE weeks is, comparatively speak- ing, a short space of time, yet within its narrow confines. lurk untold. possibilities for a man who has something to say and the depth of feeling and dramatic ability to say it effectively. Such a man was Mr. Oliver J. Peavy. On the evening following the dinner at the Restmere Mr. Peavy returned to his apartment and maintained a majestic calm throughout the evening meal. The meal itself disposed of, he removed from the inner pocket of his neat tobacco-brown suit a thin sheet of paper dotted with neat figures. “It will interest you to know, Mrs. Peavy,”’ he said throatily, ‘“‘that Stage Steel Products closed to-day at forty dol- lars per share. If you will take the trouble to examine this sheet you will see that, had | I been allowed to follow my own business judgment, a judgment—ahem—based on seventeen years’ experience, we would have been two hundred and sixty-five dollars richer —or, at the rate we have been saving out of my salary, your ununderstandable obstinacy cost us to-day the savings of eleven months two weeks. I trust you are satisfied with your work.” After this he bowed stiffly. On the following evening he carefully opened the evening paper to the financial yage, folded it and thrust it dramatically vefore the calm face of his wife. “Madam,” he said, “‘ please note! Don’t take my word for it! Read it in cold print, fresh from the lips of one of America’s fore- most financial authorities. Here it is” STAGE PRODUCTS TOUCHES 50 IN HEAVY TRADING Following a steady demand at fractional advances throughout the early part of to-day’s session Stage Steel Products jumped perpen- dicularly in the last few moments of trading to a new high for the recent move. In a turn- over of less than five thousand shares the stock advanced from 4344 to 50 in ten minutes just before the close. Talk in the Street gives two reasons for the wide enhancement seen in this stock during the past two days, One is the operations of a big uptown speculator whose following, even on the merest hearsay, is very great. The other is the fact that the company’s maturing indebtedness amounting to twenty million dollars will be met. or extended. “8 has been often pointed out in these col- umns, the enormous epreciation in this stock has been out of line with its book value for many months, and with a turn in the affairs of the company a condition might easily be created which would leave speculators short of the stock far out on the limb. Mr. Payne Ashbrooke, head of the syndicate underwriting the loan of the company, could not be reached, and in his absence other mem- bers of the firm refused to make any statement. Mr. Peavy arose and held the evidence dramatically extended. ‘Six months’ more savings we have been cheated out of. Ten points! I tell you, Mrs. Peavy, this thing can’t go any further. If you insist on remaining blind to our mutual interests, I will not! We have lost nearly eighteen months’ savings, but we are not going to lose any more. I won’t stand for it!” Mrs. Peavy arose and faced her vermilion oe and in her eyes was the cold Bailey gleam of battle. Noting it, Mr. Peavy shifted nervously. He became less dra- matic. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST “‘Now look here, Henny - She calmly arose and began to collect the dishes. Her hands well filled, she moved quietly to the door leading into the kitchen. There she stopped. “No,” she said—and passed on. The baffled eye of her husband alighted on a package wrapped in newspaper lyin on the golden-oak buffet. It was aclabed in Greek. He had brought it home that night. He would show her. Package in hand he moved to the window and opened it with a jerk. He waited until he heard its thud in the court below, then he closed the window with a slam. “There!” he said to the closed kitchen door. “I guess that’ll show you who is boss around here!” vi CROSS the city three other gentlemen considered the same newspaper article. > left out on the limb,” repeated the largest of the three, and his voice was thick. ‘I tell you no matter how safe it is I don’t like it! Suppose he should dig up the money somewhere, where would I dig up the ten thousand shares I’m short—an’ at what price?’ “You're not the only one, Oppenheim. Think of someone else for a change. I’m short ten thousand—and so is Ashbrooke.” “Thirty thousand shares in a market like this!” The large man shivered. “Shut up! You and Mead ought to be out in the streets stealing pennies from chil- dren. There isn’t a chance i in the world, I tell you—unless—unless —— “Unless what?” They both demanded the answer. “Unless we don’t hang together in this market and have one try to get out at the expense of the rest. In that case the market might get to a point where Stage would have enough equity in his collateral to give us the money—especially if business in- creases with the return of this morale he talks about—and I give him credit for that. I think he knows whereof he speaks. Do we agree not to sell?” Mead nodded his head “*Sure,”” he said. Mr. Oppenheim agreed. drink on it,” he suggested. But four hours later, in the privacy of his own chamber, Mr. Oppenheim found slumber impossible—even with the help of another squat brown bottle. A sentence formed in phosphorescent characters danced upon the wall: “Ten thousand shares isn’t as much as thirty thousand.” And another: ‘Number One comes first.” Mr. Oppenheim arose unsteadily and switched on the night light. By its uncer- tain gleam he found the telephone and hoarsely commanded a number. ““Spangling?” he demanded. “Ta, nervously. “Let’s have a “Rudolph Oppenheim. I want you to buy in all the Stage Lam short. An’—an’ Spangling—do it through some other broker. Get me, Spangling? This is just between you and me.» No, nothing is the matter. Only what nobody doesn’t know don’t hurt them.” At the other end Spangling smiled grimly. ‘‘No use going to bed just yet,’’ he soliloquized. ‘“‘I might just as well wait until Mead calls up and completes the thirty thousand. And all just between friends—and as usual Ashbrooke beat them to it.” vir Lc the country another man sat with the financial page of the local daily before him. He was a large man, even as large men go, and from the corner of his mouth a huge brier gurgled and shot ashes. “A little more,’ little farther.” He reached for a telephone and asked for a number. “‘Anderson,”” he demanded, “‘give me those figures again—-they’re pretty hard to believe. In two days—more business than we’ve booked in the last two months. Thank you, boy! Good night.” Stiffly he arose and stood in front of the old-fashioned marble mantel. Like a man long out of practice he raised his arms and held them far above his white old head. Jerkily he prayed. * he muttered. “Just a vir TAGE STEEL PRODUCTS crossed 60 with a rush and 70 with ease. During the days that followed, Mr. Peavy con- tinued to make pithy remarks relative to the obstinacy of certain people. On the April 29,1922 twenty-third of April the Street and every trading room in the land waited for the word from the offices of Ashbrooke, Mead & Oppenheim. For the first time in three weeks Mr. Rudolph Oppenheim came downtown, having been suffering, accord- ing to his household, with a severe cold. Mead, who had left suddenly for a three weeks’ vacation, returned also. He arrived exactly at the hour of meeting, rather shifty of eye and nervous. Ashbrooke gave no outward sign—of anything. The partners greeted one another cordially—almost too cordially—and looked at the clock. It was ten o’clock In an outer room Mr. Peavy, bustling with importance, presided over a group of waiting newspaper men. John Stage came—alone, his ancient brier sending a whirling wake of smoke over his huge rounded shoulders. Pre- ceded by the bustling Mr. Peavy he passed through the ornate walnut door of the con- ference room. He walked straight to the table and laid on its shiny surface a strip of light blue paper. “T left the receiver at home,” he said grimly, “and brought you this instead. I thank you—on behalf of the company for the—the accommodation. Good day.” The silence was broken by the opening of the door. Mr. Peavy apologized, but the newspaper men were insistent. But before they were admitted he, Mr. Peavy, had a few words tosay. A few words of gratitude for the interest they had shown in his wel- fare—an interest he, Mr. Peavy, would never forget as long as he lived—even if he was prevented from realizing on it by the unexplainable obstinacy of a female. Had he but known it, Mr. Peavy saved the partnership of Ashbrooke, Mead & Oppenheim by that little speech. It fur- nished a safety valve that was badly needed—a football upon which the things that could not be said might be expended. “You get out of here!” roared Mr. Oppe enheim. ‘And stay out!” from Mead. The senior member of the firm took his satisfaction in a lower tone—almost pleas- antly. ‘“‘Get your money at the cashier’s window, Peavy,” he said, “and get out for good.” Somehow Mr. Peavy found his way through the maze of early noonday traffic. Some way he found his way homeward. Fired! Nearly home it came to him. The cause of it all! If she hadn’t been so obstinate the thing wouldn’t—couldn’t have happened. And if it had happened it wouldn’t have made any difference. They would have had the money—the money to do the things they had dreamed of during all the days and years of scraping and paring. A cold rage cleared the numbness from Mr. Peavy’s brain like a shower lay- ing the first spring dust. His step became firmer. He moved with more purpose. Everything was gone! There would never be anything but scraping and paring for all the days to come. For once, however, he would speak his mind out. In the doorway to the sitting room he stopped. Subconsciously he noticed that she had the window open. “Well,” said Mr. Peavy, “So I see, Oliver.” In vain did Mr. Peavy try to begin calmly. A torrent can never be a brook. Hot tears blinded his fat little eyes. His lips quivered as they uttered chaotic, blis- tering things. At its close, through the blur he saw that she was holding out a letter and an envelope. His watery eyes the letters refused to focus until they had been wiped time and again. Finally he read: “here I am.” Mrs. OLIVER J. PEAVY. Dear Madam: Allow me to send you this very small commission, which I feel that I more than owe you. To your husband, to whom please convey my best wishes, I am also en closing a remembrance, as yours is, for a rainy ae Sincerely yours, HENRY LOVERET. From the envelope Mr. Peavy drew with fingers that could hardly retain their power to grasp two brand-new thousand- dollar bills! “Here is yours, Oliver.” Breathing hard Mr. Peavy untied the string and slowly removed the wrapper. Silently he placed a pair of shiny black rub- bers upon the table by the door and walked slowly over to the window. “T tell you what, Henny,” he said finally, “they’re just what I'll need down in that Cape Cod country.”’. _— —* te a a le Ne

Page 43

People buy “NUR experience has proved it,” says C. A. Whelan, President of the United Cigar Stores Company. “We know positively that Light not only attracts buyers but actually sells goods,” he adds. “ Next to our sales- men, Light is our greatest selling force. That is why we have increased the wattage of our lamps and doubled our current consumption in the past seven years. That is why proper lighting is an essential consideration when we open a new store. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST - aa | s ' ig (* where the lights are bright “We value our windows for adver- tising purposes at millions of dollars a year in sales. Without proper light our windows would be worth onlyafraction of their present sales value —Yyet the cost of the lamps is so little in comparison with what they add.” . . . . . A glow of light in the store window is the outward mark of a progressive spirit inside. Good merchants everywhere realize this. You are pretty sure to be safe if you buy where the lights are bright. To Merchants: Yur Lighting Se Your Edison MAZDA Lamp Agent can supply you with the right lamps

Page 44

But that won’t help your next car. What will? JOU give your car every care it should have, perhaps—save one You may always thoughtlessly say, “Give me a quart of oil.”’ Queer, UneEX per ted knoc ks come Repair bills seem high and frequent Operating troubles multiply. “The repair man simply can't seem to keep You expected to But the engine already shows signs of age the engine sweet keep the car hve seasons All around you are men who don’? furn cars in every season or two who aren’# constantly face-to-face with unexpected repair bills—-who climb long hills easily and quietly even when the car is old They are the men who fondle their cars a bit, keep them up well And they are particularly careful 1 about lubrication Have you ever noticed how many of them are enthusiasts on Gargoyle Mobiloil? Now for Economy People are learning that they have a right to ex- the lesson this year than ever before. More will wake up to the fact that incorrect lubrication doubles engine repair bills. Instead of saying ‘“Give me a quart of oil’’ they will ask for the correct grade of Gargoyle Mo- biloil If your car is not listed in the par- tial chart shown here, ask the dealer. He has the complete list of recom- mendations—covering every car built. Not a gasoline by-product Nine out of ten lubricating oils on the market are simply by-products in the manufacture of gasoline. Gargoyle Mobiloil is not a_ by- produc t. It is produced by lubrication spe- cialists who are recognized the world over as leaders in lubricating practice. Gargoyle Mobiloil is manufactured from crude oil chosen for its /udri- cating qualities—not for its gasoline content. Gargoyle Mobiloil is man- ufactured by processes designed to bring out the pect more from their Qo highest /ubricating value lubrication. More auto- not the greatest gal- mobile owners willlearn “Jem lonage of gasoline. Mobiloil Make the chart your guide THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Warning: Don’t be misled by some similar sounding name. Look on the container for the cor rect name Modi/oil (not Mo bile) and for the red Gargoyle Domestic Branches: New York Chicago (Main Offer) Detroit Boston Indianapolis Philadelphia Minneapolis Pittsburgh Buffalo Des Moines Kansas City, Kan Dallas * Chart of Recommendations How to Read the Chart: — correct grades of Gargoyle Mobiloil for engine lubrication of both passenger and com- mercial cars are specified in the Chart below. A means Gargoyle Mobiloil «A” B means Gargoyle Mobiloil «B” E means Gargoyle Mobiloil «E” Arc means Gargoyle Mobiloil Arctic Where different grades are recommended for summer and winter use, the winter recommendations should be followed during the entire period when freezing temperatures may be experienced, The recommendations for prominent gsakes of engines used in many cargase listed ely for convenience. The rt of Rico s is compiled by the Vac mpany’s Bgard of Automotive En and represents our professional advice on correct automobile lubricgsion,, f st rt 5 OF AUT )BILES AND MOTOR TRUCKS 1 0 All Other Mod A \Arc r Cleveland A iArc] A Arc Corbitt (5 ton A A A A A Are jAre jAr All Other Mod... jArc. Are JAre (Arc JAre Are jAre jArc JAre Are Crow-Elkhart A Ave} A Acc] A Arc} A |Are] A |Are Cunningham A A A A A A A A A A Damels A|ALA'ALALALAILAILAIA Dodge Brothers Are Are Arc. Arc JAre Are JAre |Arc pA Elcar (4 cyl.) \ 4 Com) (Model 12 | All Onher Mod jArc Arc [Ar \r | Haynes (6 cyt A " iz 12 «yt A} AIA ‘ JA) A] A 4 | Arc Arc} A jAt A Ar A Ar Model 671 Al A (Com’l) (Quad ALAILA/AILA/\AILASA (ton & 2 ton A Ar AA A A A Are National (6 cy! AA A A jAre Are JAre Are JAre \Ar 12 cyl A|ALTA/ALAIA Overland A An A Arc JA A lA Ave JAre /A Owen Magnetic (Mod M | fAre Are JA A All Other Mod] A A ALA \ A; AA A Ar Packard AITATALATA/LATA ALAILA Peerless (8 cyl ‘ ALA A \ \ ‘ A 4 All Other Mod | Arc |Arc |Are A Pierce-Arrow A}ALALALTAILALA ATA A m ton A} ATA) AJA! A JAre Arc jAre A All Other Mod] A | A JAre. Are [Arc Arc Are JArc JA AILALAILAJTA/ATA|IA N French 41 A | A A A Arc | A JA A Ar 4 Ar Model R.A A \Ar Model 4-75 A; A All Other Models. JArc.jAre JAre.|Are JAre. Ar fArc.\A Rolls Royce ALA R & V Knight B/A|B\A | Saxon A Arc} A Arc] E| EJ BE, EJ E/E ayersSix Arc Arc JAre Are JAre Are JAre Arc Arc |Anc implex Crane A A A A tandard (8 cyl \ ATA; ATA ALTAILA \ A tearns-Kaight B/ AIL B;A|Bi A] B/AJA/A epher A} ALTA ATA) ATA, A [Ase At Stoughton (1 -& 1}4 ton} A jAre | A (At | . All Other Mod] A} AJ} A A | udebaker AA AA A Ar A Ar \ tute A}ALA\ALALALTALATAILA Templar A; ATALATALATALAT hite (16 valve ALAILA/A|A/A J and S tor A; AJLAILAILAIA | All Other Models JAre Arc JAre |Are JAre Arc JAre. Arc JAre Arc nig B/ATB\A]B/A|B,)/AJA/IA iY Arc Are JA Are (Arc JAre Ar Are Arc JAre \Arc Prominent Makes of Engines Beaver(Mod J-JA-JBJCY A} AJL A|AJTA!AJAIA All Other Models | A jArc}] A Are} A jAre| A jAre| A jAr Buda (Mod. ATU-BTI CTUDTU-FTU-FTL. | | HU-HTUAL-ITU-XL j A A A A A A A A A p yrt | All Other Models A Ar A Arc A Ar A Ar A Continental (Model B2)} A] ATA) AAA | Model T } AA A Arc] A All Other Models. JArc.Arc [Are Are [Are Arc [Ar Are JA Falls A iAre| A (Arc} A Are} A |Are) A jArc G.B. & S. (Model AA). | A) ATA. A \ | | A | | All Other Models. lAre. Arc JArc Arc Are |Are JAre.|Are Are jAre Herschell-Spiliman | | U-S-V&VA A} ALAIA All Other Models A Arc A (Are A Are A \Ar Hinkley A;ALA/AJAIA | | Northway (Mod. 108 | | Are |Arc *“ AllOther Models. JA] A] A|AJA/|ALA|ALTA|A Waukesha (Models CU- | | | DU-EU & FU). J A|AJTA|ALA]A | All Other Models A \Are A jAre A Arc A jAre A \Arc Weidely AJ/ALAJATALATALATALA Wisconsin (Mod. Q & Ql | | A lAre] A \Arc | AA “ AllOther Models |A}ALA!|AJLAJLALA| ALA April 29,1922 eo \ e r ° = ss, aia ¢ af ig x Cy “Ss & VACUUM OIL COMPANY

Page 45

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST THE PRINT OF MY REMEMBRANCE of Mr. Palmer, it never ~' occurred to him to de- Man part from the arrange- fo his theater. To get ready money he was therefore obliged to ' sell a half interest in 4A the play to Charles Frohman and Al Hay- ay man. Both these men ‘ 3 urged him to continue os its run at the Madison Y Square. They argued PA / that Miss Morton’s ZH play was as yet un- = tried; that other the- aters as suitable as the Madison Square could be got for it in the city and that Miss Morton had no right other than the most technical one, and none whatever in jus- tice, to impair Mr. Palmer’s property by forcing it out of a theater where it had such momentum. As a matter of fact, the new partners were right. Miss Morton’s man- ager would have benefited rather than have lost by some financial accommodation that would have deferred their premi¢re. The Merchant was produced in warm weather and was not successful. Charles Frohman knew nearly all the men then playing in the American theater. He had traveled with Haverly’s and Callender’s Minstrels, with modest ven- tures of his own; he was a most approach- able and human person, and with his little office just one flight of stairs up from the Broadway sidewalk, where anybody en- tered without knocking in those days, his acquaintance and his popularity rapidly grew. After Shenandoah he acquired a lease of the Twenty-third Street Theater, between Sixth and Seventh avenues, and produced Men and Women, by Belasco and De Mille, on the model of the plays they were then supplying the Lyceum. This was followed by other dramas and a string of farces provided by the skillfully original as well as adapting pen of William Gillette. This success built for him the still beautiful Empire Theater at Broadway and Fortieth Street, which he opened with Belasco’s fine melodrama, The Girl I Left Behind Me, in which Frank Mordaunt, William Morris, Theodore Roberts and others appeared with the boy actor, Wallie Eddinger, as Dick. ment made to sublet f fy ~ { Frohman’s Cheerful Philosophy Clay M. Greene, in a burlesque of that play, had the colonel in agony, reading news of an injury to little Dick, hand the telegraph tape to the majc rand say, “Take it. I must get bac *k.”’ ‘*Back where? “To the center of the stage.” I’ll talk about me. We were friends, Charles Frohman and I, from our first meeting in 1882 until he was lost on the Lusitania in 1915—thirty- three years. After 1892 he produced nine plays of mine—Surrender, Colorado, The Man Upstairs, The Other Girl, Mrs. Leftingwell’s Boots, De Lancey, On the Quiet, The Harvest Moon and Indian Summer, and five others which I had re- written but did not sign. I don’t remem- ber that we ever signed a contract, and I am sure that we never had a difference. He was among tke first men upon whom I called when I first came to New York to go with

\\ IY A Group of Carts we | catures, At the PY / Left — Frederic j RemingtonbyAu: A » gustus Thomas. (Continued from Page 16) 1 At the Right — } E. W. Kemble ty h Remington. Be- ¢ p} low—Augustus Thomas by Rem: ington ee : J Pe (Arm i ae \ —_ ™ P ei. eS a

There was never any talk of remunera- tion for these little things, as the burden of obligation, if obligation existed, was always so heavily on the other side for the hun- dreds of little courtesies that he found one way or another of extending. Charles Frohman had a fine dramatic sense, and without attempting exactly imitation had the mimetic faculty that suggested the object of his portrait quite as definitely. Men amused him much, and when he told of his last visitor the interview was likely to be vividly dramatized. I remember a report of a visit of Colonel Alfrend, the Southern author of whom I have written. C. F., with his irresistible twinkle, said “The colonel was here to see me,” and then without another word there was the pantomime of the high hat laid carefully on the table, one finger after another of one glove carefully withdrawn, then the entire glove straightened out and laid across the hat; the same treatment for the other hand; the silk-faced overcoat care- fully taken off, shaken out at the collar, folded, laid over the back of the chair; the button of the surtout carefully adjusted at the waist; mustaches stroked, and the victim transfixed with a steady and piercing gaze. The scenario of a play was drawn “from one inside breast pocket. But C. F., in propria, gy tee yy am going to do a play by J. M. Barrie for Miss Adams. If you hz ad jd ght me in something for Miller Then C. F. was stopped; another scenario came from the other inside pocket. This was not exactly the kind of story that was wanted. Then, still as the colonel, C. F. put one hand over his head like the legendary Westerner getting a bowie knife and drew a third phantom scenario from the back of his coat collar, this last pesture burlesque, but so in character that it was impossible to find the line dividing it from preceding comedy. Charles Frohman had a bit of philosophy the Marlowe company, andwhenI returned that he carried through life. He had with the thought learned that ex- reader Bishop. He was istence was sup- the first manager to ask CTC. ~ portable if he had me for a play after my =e one real laugh in coming to the city. I rd the day. Among wrote for him many bits . y, men interested in not mentioned above. le | art and the thea- These little things were Z i“ } ter as connois- often written in his fj We seurs and patrons presence as he pushed by iy?) the wisest that a piece of paper across f I know is Mr. the desk when a subject Thomas B. came up in some related / Clarke. I was at talk. He had a fashion a | a loss to compre- of doing that with other p hend his standard playwrights—Gillette HH 4) of excellence in or Fitch or Carleton— A! / hp the drama until I and it was great fun to S Ll a heard him say one give him some bit for . time that any one of his girl stars and | “a play which fortwo hear him say, “That will go in to-night.” Eugene Wiley Presbrey and Francis Wilson, Caricatured by Augustus Thomas

consecutive seconds made him forget him- self, made the play- house disappear and him to feel that he wos in the presence of areal event was for him a notable play. Hesaid: “One seldom gets from astudio a canvas of uniform excellence throughout. Therewill be one feature of it bet- ter than the others. I can prize it for that feature. And if I geta play with the scene I ave indicated I go three or four times when the scer.e€ is on to get the same pleasure from it that I get from the excellent note in a painting.’ C. F. seemed to-apply an equal theory to relaxation and the day’s conduct. The thing that amused him he would write upon a blotting pad, and recover somewhat of its joy by telling it to many a subsequent visitor. During the rehearsals of The | Other Girl referred to in previous chapters | we had on our third or fourth day reached the first repetition of the second act. on the stage with manuscript and a blue pencil, the company standing about, slowly marking positions on the parts, when C. F.’s office boy came with an envelope carrying across its back the well-known blue display of Maude Adams’ name. As the boy waited for an answer the rehearsal stopped long enough for me to read the sheet inside It carried in large and hurried hand- wanian: in colored crayon, “‘How are you getting along at rehearsals without me?” C. F. Wins a Bet Taking the inquiry at its face value from a busy man, I wrote across the note one word ‘‘Great,”’ handed it to the boy and forgot it. Two days later I stopped in at the office for some necessary conference, His letter with my comment was pinned on the wall He said, ‘“‘That furnished me laughs for two days. I showed it to everybody.” He was also a practical joker, and would go to considerable lengths, but never with any of the cruelty or lack of consideration that practical jokes sometimes breed. When Alabama went on its second visit to Chicago he was interested in the manage- ment He said, ‘I'll bet you that it'll bigger business than it did the first time. As it was to be in the house and we had played to capacity the first time, I didn’t see how that could be, and said so He wanted to bet, nevertheless, and reject- ing cigars and hats as stakes he fixed upon a suit of clothes. I demurred, feeling that it was unsportsmanlike to bet on a sure thing. He generously gave me that ad- vantage, however. The business on the second trip was nearly double, because of the fact, of which C. F. was aware and I not when he made the bet, that the play had been chosen for the local police benefit and all patrolmen of Chicago were selling tickets. The increased royalties reconciled me to the loss of the bet. The bill for the suit of clothes came in with C. F.’s indorse- ment. The price, one hundred dollars, We must remember in 1892 fifty or sixty dollars was a fair sum for a suit of clothes. C. F. was fond of telling all this when he had me and some other man in his office. Considerably later he was to open with a new play, the name of which did not please him. On his blotter he had a half dozen alternative titles suggested by person who had called during the day. The man who gave the winning title do a same amused him greatly. that back was to get a suit of clothes. He told me the story. 1 suggested Never Again, which ¢ F. wrote on the blotter | and said would be taken | (Continued on Page 45 I was |

Psion.

AVE automobile pranks on you lately? the pi bee n stons of playing your any They do that sometimes. But you will know when they commence to cut capers, When your cylinder walls become worn and out-of-round; your pistons vibrate and tremble and the oil begins to squirt up around them—then you will know that your motor is having a little party with you acting as banker. You will find it expensive if you don’t crab this little game, particularly when your motor begins to loaf on the job and displays a lack of pep and vigor, You'll pretty to feed the kitty with oil regularly and donate a few spark ee to the cause. But that won't stop those piston pranks. They'll keep right on cutting into your roll until you insist on a new deal with new faces setting in. Now I don't want you to fee! that we're merce but here's a bit of free ad- vice that you can follow and make money. nave nary some If you want real action , Just slip Spencer-Smith o your engine, It’s simply this: under the hood Pistons int Then they'll receive sledge hammer Mows at every explosion and grin; they'll race up and down the cylinder walls with never a skip, falter, or developing the power that pulls you through hub-deep mud and speeds you over the hi to the duyways carbon griefs cause we miss ghw Avs No oil pumping and n with Spencer-Smiths, be encircle each piston with a into which the oil is wiped by the lower piston ring. From the groove the oil drains through holes into the crankcase. This is a patented Spencer Smith feature and it works so perfectly that | am surprised somebody hasn't tried to imitate it, groove Sol say: Junk your old, overweight, slug gish, wasteful pistons and replace them with a set of economical energetic Spencer vlinder walls it's the Smiths after regrinding your < Honestly you won't believe old chariot. Smooth? Smooth as th mahogany above the old time And power? Why you will be someone of dissolving a stick of dynamite in your gas tank, Did I he Sarre brass rail accusing ar some doubting Thomas ask * He w does he get that way?” Well, it’s a fair question. But we have the evidenc in print, too The bear auth Ww and he surely has given ibject a punch that would alm be convicting evidence for the prohit tion officer wherever he 1s Just drop me a card 1n care of the Spen cer-Smith Machine Company, Howell, Michi n, and l, personally, wil! mail ih bookle t, “Making Your Pistons ay a Profit mil

J A Patented Oil Drain Groove Notice that olf groove and the oil hole They prevent cathbon trouble caused by burning oil fm the down stroke of the pi nm the ofl te wiped into the groove by the third ring and ie then drained through the holes back into the crankcase at SPENCER-SMITH PISTONS Built by the largest manufacturers of pistons exclusively

Page 46

\ ag wy hy . Big as Con ds. me Cost less than Cords Defects Kept Out Mileage Built In Our mechanical process of building Hydro -Toron Tires —vulcanizing by Internal Hydraulic Expansion with water under pressure heated to the proper temperature — prevents those unseen defects which are real causes of Stone-Bruise, Rim-Cut and Blow-Out in ordinary tires. The scientific chemical process of treating fabric—-the Toron (no- rot) treatment— proofs each tire against the damaging effects of moisture and decay. The Toron treatment not only seals the tire against oxidation in all its forms, but gives the fabric a greater affin- ity for rubber, increases tensile strength, and insures a greater hold- ing power between the layers of the tire. This mechanical process, and this scientific chemical treatment, result in the unusual mileage represented by Hydro-Toron’s fear- less guarantee. Besides this guarantee of 10,000 miles against Stone-Bruise, Rim- Cut and Blow-Out, Hydro-Torons are as big as cords, yet cost less than cords. Be sure to ask for them the next time you buy. Tire dealers seeking a real money-making opportunity —a better proposition insuring good profit and satisfied customers—should write for our plan. HYDRO-UNITED TIRE COMPANY Factory and Eastern Sales Office Western Sales Office Pacific Coast Branch 300 Hanover St., Pottstown, Pa. 1053 West 35th St., Chicago 420 Beach St., San Francisco, Cal. _ HYDRO TORON Guaranteed 10,000 Miles Against Stone Bruise Rim Cut and Blow Out THE SATURDAY EVENING POST April 29, 1922

Page 47

am, YE at UE } R i | ( t a H if : | t } { 4 { 4% } iy f | ; | { ' { j ’ { ; P ; ] 4 , i he | ' : { { b . (Continued from Page 43) under consideration. My wife and I dined downtown that nightand wenttoaplay. As we were coming uptown to the Grand Cen- tral Station all of the exposed ash barrels, boxes and temporary scaffolds were being covered with snipe advertising of Never Again. I went to an expensive firm and ordered their best suit; the price was one hundred dollars. I asked them if there wasn’t some way to increase it, and after fastidious additions induced them to boost it to one hundred and fifteen. C.F. added that to his story. With the success of Alabama the con- tinued avidity of the public for the South- ern type drew Mr. Palmer’s attention to Colonel Carter, by Francis Hopkinson Smith. The story, which had appeared in one of the magazines, was already in book form and was probably a best seller; one heard of it everywhere. I had carte blanche as to material, but felt a little overawed by the popularity of the book and the au- thority of its author. The play was only mildly successful, but it marked a very notable date in my own affairs, a friend- ship with that man of such extraordinary versatility, Hop Smith, as his friends called him, that lasted until his death in 1915. I have at hand no scrapbook to spring upon the defenseless reader, but I think it an act of simple justice to the author of the book to quote from The Wallet of Time by Wil- liam Winter, America’s greatest critic of the theater: “Coming as it did at a time when the stage was being freely used for the dissection of turpitude and disease, that play came like a breeze from the pine woods in a morning of spring.” And of the wonderful artist, dear Ned Holland, hewrites: “His success was de- cisive. The Colonel with his remarkable black coat that could be adjusted for all oc- casions by a judi- cious manipulation of the buttons, his frayed wristbands, his shining trousers, his unconsciously forlorn poverty, and his unquench- able spirit of hope, love and honor— was, in that remarkable performance, a picturesque, lovable reality.” With the production of Carter com- pleted, and with plays for Goodwin, Crane and Charles Frohman to write, I ended my connection with Mr. Palmer and turned to the wider field. Mr. Palmer had about decided to abandon management anyway, although with his caution over any con- sidered step he did not do so for two years. Mr. Palmer’s Retirement During those two years he produced Trilby at the Garden Theater and one or two plays at his own house, in which the beautiful Maxine Elliott made her first appearance. Mr. Palmer, who had been a public librarian in his youth, was the most cultivated manager I knew personally I never met Augustin Daly. But Mr. Palmer’s culture made him timid in a busi- ness that was fast offering premiums for adventure. I remember the melancholy of the man in his gradual retirement, as dur- ing that period he said to me, “I’m an old man’’—he was considerably under sixty at the time—‘‘and I cannot compete with these younger men who are coming into the field.” He named particularly Charles Frohman and Mr. Erlanger. It would be of interest to remember the kind of world in which we then were living in that period beginning in 1892 and cover- ing the next five years of which I now write. The President of the United States was Grover Cleveland. William McKinley was governor of Ohio. Roswell P. Flower was governor of New York. The state of Massachusetts had just elected to the United States Senate, to succeed the veteran Senator Dawes, a person compara- tively young and described as a man of letters, named Henry Cabot Lodge. The national legislature was considering the favorable report of a Senate committee Wallace Eddinger in “‘The Girt I Left Behind Me" THE SATURDAY upon a proposed Nicaragua Canal. We had reached a decision that it was essential to have our Navy doubled. Gold had been discovered in quantities in Colorado, and there was an excited movement to that state. Andrew Carnegie and Henry Frick, declining to consult with their men, with whom they were having some labor dis- putes, had been responsible for the pre- cipitation of the Homestead trouble. On the other side of the water Charles Stewart Parnell had just died under some- thing of a cloud. In England Gladstone was preparing to retire from the premier- ship after explaining his home-rule bill. Bismarck was being charged by the Socialists of Germany with corrupting the press with money improperly collected. There was a famine in Russia. In France | Ferdinand de Lesseps had been indicted | because of irregularity in the conduct of | the Panama Canal enterprise; uties and five senators were under arrest charged with complicity therein. five dep- | Deputies | Clemenceau and Dérouléde had fought a | duel, firing three shots at each other, and con- cluded by shaking hands. The Early ’90’s Thomas F. Gilroy was mayor of New York City; the com- munity was busy dis- cussing rapid transit and the prospect for a first subway, for which it seemed impossib'e to borrow money. There was a great stir in mu- nicipal consciousness L. S. Ellert had just been elected mayor of San Francisco on an independent ticket and a promise to give clean business as op- posed to the sand-lot variety of politics. Mayor Pingree, of De- troit, had won on a campaign for city lighting. Mayor Wil- liam Henry Eustace of Minneapolis was clos- ing a business admin- istration, and although contracts with the lighting companies had five years to run, Minneapolis was re- solving at the termination of that time to have her own electric plants. Chicago was hoping to elect Mayor Harrison in order to have his direction during the period of the World's Fair. And Nathan Matthews, | all over the country. | mayor of Boston, had been elected on a | ticket for municipal lighting and an exten- sion of the transit. For the season of '91-’92 my wife and I had resumed possession of our apartment | on the upper floor of the Oriental Hotel on | the Thirty-ninth Street side, overlooking the roof of the Casino. In the summer and early autumn evenings we could sit at the window or on the little fire-escape balcony thereby and see the operatic performance on the Casino roof as comfortably as if from | a private box, though a bit remote. Part of our royalties that were coming in I de- voted under competent advice to the col- lection of a small library, good for working purposes, and occasionally getting here and there a little picture that was worth having. Somebody has said that when you have once thoroughly seen a picture you may safely take leave of it; it will never again have for you its first effect. For some reason thet is not the truth for me. A picture that I have really chosen and that I like grows more and more to be a part of my environment, and I feel with Dr. Henry van Dyke, who wrote that his pictures were for him windows through which he looked out from his study on to the world. In that apartment, thus agreeably situ- ated and surrounded, I began to think about the story for Goodwin. He had been so successful in a sentimental bit in A Gold Mine, written for him by Brander Mat- thews and George Jessop, that though he was willing to have his new play largely comedy, he hoped that it would have a serious backbone. At that time Goodwin was slight, graceful, and with a face capable of conveying the subtlest shades of feeling; EVENING POST 15 Ready cooked ALL g ready to serve EVERYONE likes spaghetti—if it is prepared right. Everyone likes Heinz Spaghetti, for it is prepared jus right. The dry spaghetti is made in the Heinz spotless kitchens. So is the famous ‘Tomato Sauce. The cheese is a special selection. ‘Vhe recipe by which it is cooked is that of a famous Italian chef. It comes to you in a can ready to heat and Keep a supply of this delicious food on hand. Serve eat. No work or fuss on your part. it often—for guests and for every day meals. Some of the Vinegars Baked Beans Apple Butter Tomato Ketchup CANADA PACKED IN CANADA ARI HEINZ GOODS SOLD IN

Page 48

50c Faiented Trade Mark reg. U. S. Pat. Of. “XOOD looking! Stylish! —you bet. The Spur Tie is setting the pace in neckwear this year. Fashion has dictated—and common sense approves. Why? /e’ll let you in on a secret— the Spur Tie is all made up for you, ready to slip on. Saves your time and your disposition. A new patented feature gives it that jaunty effect, and holds it in shape. Your dealer will show you the Spur Tie in two attractive sizes, large and small—two styles—elastic neckband or slip-on-grip, guaranteed not to rust or soil the collar. Numerous patterns; black, polka, fancy and many others. Get your Spur Tie today. i/ your dealer won't supply you, send $1.00 for two, SOc for one, specifying sie, color preference and whether elastic band oF slip-on-grip. LOOK FOR THE NAME SPUR ON THE TIE Makers of put <.L DOG: SUSPENDERS (double wear), BELTS, GARTERS (wide and narrow web), and VESTOFF SUSPENDERS (worn out of sight, under the shirt), 75¢ On the Pacific Coast, PAUL B. HAY, Inc. 120 Battery Street, San Francisco Howes & Potter, Boston | MR. DEALER: Write for 3 dozen Sample Assortment of Spur Ties on approval.

ASK YOUR DEALER FOR 75* BULLDOG 75: SUSPENDE RS Ss OREATER

his voice was rich and modulated. My problem was to find a story for a blond hero five feet seven inches tall, weighing | under one hundred and fifty pounds, with a Roman nose and a steady, steel- blue gaze. I stood the Goodwin photo- graph on my table and looked at it until it talked to me. The slight pane couldn't explain the solid aod dence of that look except there was behind it a gun. I clarified my problem a little by deciding that the gun should be carried lawfully, and as there was nothing sug- gesting the soldier in Goodwin, nothing of the setting-up type about him, I was urged to the idea of sheriff. Persons interested in play writing — | and I am persuaded they are not few in number—will see how that clears the at- mosphere. When you must or may write for astar itis a bigstart to have the char- acter agreeably and definitely chosen. To secure the love interest 1 thought of a girl who would be of a little finer strain than the sheriff type indicated, and the necessity for conflict suggested a rival, The rival should be attractive but unworthy, and to make him doubly opposed to Goodwin I decided to have him an outlaw, someone it would be the sheriff's duty and business—business used in the stage sense—to arrest. I have told in earlier chapters of my ex- perience with Jim Cummings, the express robber, who had given a messenger on the Missouri-Pacific road a forged order to | earry him in his car and then after some

| Clark and Dave Ball, friendly intercourse had tied the messenger and got off the train with a suitcase full of reenbacks. The need for a drama criminal decided me to make use of Cummings as Goodwin’s rival, a glorified and beautiful matinée Cummings, but substantially him. This adoption rescued the sheriff and the girl from the hazy geography of the mining camps in which my mind had been groping and fixed the trio in Mizzoura. Newspaper experience in those days be- fore the flimsy and the rewrite emphasized the value of going to the place in order to report an occurrence, and I knew that aside from these three characters and their official and sentimental relationship the rest of my people and my play were waitin for me in Bowling Green, Mizzoura. I tol Goodwin of the character and the locality, got his approval of the idea that far, and took a train for Pike County. Getting Characters in Mizzoura In those days Mrs. Thomas and I used to hold hands on our evening promenades; but I think it was really our foolish New York clothes that made the blacksmith smile. At any rate, we stopped at his door and talked with him. He knew Champ another Missouri | statesman, and had the keenest interest in | store window and the ‘ the coming convention for the legislative nothination. It was fine to hear him pro- nounce the state name Mizzoura, as it was originally spelled on many territorial charts, a as we were permitted to call it in the public schools until we reached the grades where imported culture ruled. The black- smith’s helper, who was finishing a wagon shaft with a draw knife, was younger and less intelligent, and preferred to talk to Mrs. Thomas. A driver brought in a two- horse, side-seated depot wagon on three wheels and a fence rail. The fourth wheel and its broken tire were in the wagon, and the blacksmith said he’d weld the tire at 5:30 the next morning. We went without breakfast to see him do it. He was my heroine’s father by that time—a candidate for the legislature—and I was dev ising for him a second comedy daughter to posite to the boy with a draw knife. Pe? ayl also found the drug- ‘lickerish"’ boxes that Cummings should break through in his attempted escape; and I recovered the nig- gers, the ‘“‘dog fannell,’”’ the linen dusters | and the paper collars which in my recent | prosperity I'd forgotten. I also nominated | Goodwin for the legislature, which in- | creased his importance and gave him some-

thing to sacrifice for the girl’s father. I was very happy over what I felt was the backbone of a play as I started from Bowling Green to St. Louis on the return trip. In the day coach my wife and I were the only passengers except a man who sat well forward by the heater and seemed in trouble. When the conductor, whom I knew, came along I asked him about the man. Hesaid, “‘That’s Nat Dryden. You must know him.” THE SATURDAY EVENING POST

April 29,1922

On the Ramona. William Crane in an Eccentric Dance. At the Right — Harry Woodruff I did. I went for- ward to Dryden's seat. He was weeping and muttering to him- self, though slightly consoled by liquor. When I spoke to him he turned to me forsympathy and said, “Oh, Gus, Gus, Nancy died last night. * Nancy was his wife, and was known as one of the handsomest women in Missouri. ‘Yes, last night!

The waiter answered and wrote. Long pause by Nat. “Cup of coffee.” “Coffee, jez-sir.” “Curtain.” Following Nat’s appealing look, I explained to the puzzled waiter the significance of the last instruc- tion. Goodwin was so enthusiastic about the story that it was an added stimulation to the writing of it. I got alittle inside room near our apartment in the Oriental and began work on the play, which as far as dialogue went almost wrote itself. Onenightin particular, after talking in minute detail the third act to Goodwin, really playing it with him, I went to my table after an early and light din- ner, but with some cof- fee that I had the bell boy bring at irregular times, and other reén- forcements not so deadly, and wrote the entire third act of the play before the day- light came through the windows. Iwasagood deal of a wreck when it was finished, and the handwriting was diffi- culttoread; but when finally transcribed it was never altered, and the play could be prompted from that script to-day.

A First Night Early in the World’s Fair time there came a chance to dothe play at Hooley’s. Goodwin had a fine company,

And oh, Gus, how she loved you!” “Why, I don’t think I ever met your wife.” “I know it. But you remember that con- vention at Jefferson City when I was a candidate for attorney-general ——”’ I nodded, “The fourth ballot was a tie between me and that blankety-blank-blank from Callo- way County. You were at the reporters’ table. At a pause in the proceedings you rose from your impotent and inopportune seat, and addressing that convention in which you had no rights whatever you said in a loud voice, ‘I want it distinctly under- stood that the press of this state is for Nat Dryden.’”’ I nodded, “Dear boy, it beat me. But I went home _ and told it to Nancy, and we've loved you ” ever since. My wife and I stopped only a day in St. Louis, and then we started back for New York. There are few better places than a railroad train for building stories. The rhythmic click of the wheels past the fishplates makes your thoughts march as a drum urges a column of soldiers. By the time our train pulled into New York I was impatient to make a running transcript of speeches of my contending people. But that is a relief that must be deferred. Like overanxious litigants, the charactérs are disposed to talk too much and must be controlled and kept in bounds by a pro- portioned scenario, assigning order ool re- spective and progressive values to them. Nat Goodwin Orders Breakfast Before beginning to write I submitted the story to Goodwin. He was playing at the Fifth Avenue Theater at the time, I think, in Henry Guy Carleton’s Ambition, but I am positive about his rooms at the Worth House annex of the Hoffman House just across Twenty-fifth Street. I called by appointment at twelve o'clock. Nat had been a little wild the night before, and was now propped repentantly against his pil- lows. As I entered the room a German waiter was standing at the foot of the bed with an order blank in his hand. Nat was studying the menu with a most rezretful discrimination. Faintly assuming my mission, he gave his order, the obsequious German responding and writing down. “Bring me a wineglass of orange juice.” “Vineglass, oranch juice.’ “Dry toast.’ “‘ Jez-sir, try doast.” “Piece of salt mackerel.” somewhat miscast in some particulars, but all of ability, with handsome Frank Carlyle as the villain and a tower of strength in McIntosh, whom I persuaded Goodwin to take when he had been rather set on getting McKee Rankin, a much more expensive and older actor. We had exactly eleven days in which to produce the piece. It was one of Goodwin’s greatest first nights. I had frequently been behind the curtain with Nat in other plays, but never saw him begin one. That night in Chicago he had a perfect case of seasickness, and with diffi- culty controlled his nausea during the acts. He told me then that his nervousness al- ways affected him that way with a new play. I shall never forget his pale face nor his descriptive line as during one of the inte r- missions he looked up at me and said, ‘‘ My boy, a first night is a hoss race that lasts three hours.” After the Goodwin contract I had en- gaged to do plays for William Crane and for Charles Frohman. The most impera- tive of these was for Crane, then playing in The Senator and looking about for a play to follow it. Crane some years before had had a play by Clay M. Greene called Sharps and Flats, in which he and Robson had jointly starred, and Greene had re- written for Robson ‘and Crane some other script. Joseph Brooks, Crane’s manager, wished Greene and me to write together. It was arranged that Greene and I meet Crane at his summer home, Cohasset. Greene wus to be in that neighborhood with a yachting party. My wife and I planned to stop on our way to Ocean Point, Boothbay Harbor, Maine, where Mr. Eugene Presbrey and his wife, Annie Russell, had a bungalow to which they had invited us for part of the summer. At Mr. Crane’s home I found a request from Greene for Crane and me to come to Boston, where a yacht on which Greene was a guest was anchored. This was agree- able, as Crane had his own steam yacht, the Senator, and was in the habit of running up to Boston once or twice a week on ex- cuses not nearly so good. Greene’s host was Harry M. Gillig, owner of the schooner yacht Ramona. The Senator anchored near by and our party went aboard the Ramona, where, with Harry Gillig playing a tarepatch and Frank Unger strumming a banjo, the distinguished comedian showed the boys that he could stiil shake a foot. Crane adie. professional life as a basso in a comic opera company, and went from (Continued on Page 49)

ee cern

Page 49

ee = = — : ee —- > — —— — sa pene li LR “‘Warms like the £un,’’ heating the entire house with just one register. As everyone knows, warm air rises and cold air falls; that is the simple principle upon which Sunbeam Pipeless Furnaces work. Heated air, mixed with vapor, rises through the central compartment of the large register placed in your hall or living room. A constant, gentle circu lation of warm, moist air at an even tempera- ture is maintained in every room; the cool air of the house being drawn down through the outer compartment of your register into the fur nace, where it is heated and sent upward again. The Sunbeam gives healthful heat; it requires little attention, as the draft is regulated from upstairs; owners all over the country tell us that their Sunbeams have paid for themselves the first year by saving one-third on the cost of fuel. See your local Sunbeam dealer. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST £ E WY Y Wen : — ‘g ‘ Aa =i V {| ‘ ! iN \\ a boda ae 4 ia pe moron sa ap wi HH 7 i Wo Wray ie Qe cimabaes il Wl pe | , ep’ ). d \ han _—_— = et ID } a es i ‘ h Verena s { \ > NY Wore? Vy Mer Uh. \ Nhink now, of saving 4s your fuel next winter T THIS time of the year, All parts are accurately fitted by a dealers have plenty of process which makes them leak-proof and they are made so much over-size time to spend with you, helping you decide upon the size and type of Sunbeam Furnace that will heat your home thoroughly The Sunbeam burns any kind of fuel. for the least amount of money. It quickly takes the chill off your house in the brisk days of early fall; it main- that a Sunbeam will practically never ~ wear out. Besides, Sunbeam prices are tains an even temperature of warm, now lower than ever before, so, moist air in every room, even in below- this is the season to see a zero weather. A Sunbeam will warm Sunbeam dealer. the most isolated room in the house ee . so that you can dress in comfort on He will explain how the Sunbeam y . ; ‘ sie . the coldest winter morning. Pipeless Furnace, with just one regis- ter, can heat a given number of rooms jt takes only one working day to in- more evenly, more healthfully and .¢ajj a Sunbeam; and there is no muss with one-third less fuel than stoves or or dirt. Its economy of fuel will be fireplaces. apparent from the first day. The Sunbeam is made on a quantity- production basis by one of the oldest and largest furnace manufacturers in fuel next winter. And think of the the country; it is for this reason that wet, disagreeable days still to come it can be sold at such a surprisingly this spring. Why wait for winter to Think now, of saving one-third your low cost. save fuel; why not begin at once? SUNBEAR PIPE and PIPELESS _ FURNACES Find out how little it will cost to install a Sunbeam, how much you will save in fuel and how much you will gain in comfort Just tear off this coupon and mail today HE FOX FURNACE CO.,, P3 No obligation—so just send us the coupon today eS . Elyria, Ohio Gentlemen Without obligating me in any way, I would like to learn more CYhe FOX FURNACE CO about heating my home, and the Sunbeam Furnace Also, please mail mé a copy of your “SUNBEAM BOOK.” Name Elyria, Ohio. Street Address maw ens apap ep ane an ge eatbenaisad City and State ---------------7

Page 50

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST /s it reasonable: TWELVE BODY TYPES LINCOLN MOTOR CO, DETROIT MICH, If the LincoLtn were not surpassing in its capabilities, is it reasonable that motordom would now accept it as the most advanced and most highly developed of motor cars? If thousands of motorists were not convinced that the Lincoin isa better and infinitely a finer car, is it reasonable that they would supplant their already fine equipment with Lincoins? If the LincoLn were not a car of distinguished character, is it reasonable that there would be such eagerness to seek comparison with it? If the Lincotn did not actually provide a fas- cinating means of travel, never attained in a motor car before, is it reasonable that there would be such great ambition in the industry to approximate its performance? If thousands of motorists had not waved aside any other possible consideration, and if they had not chosen the Lincotn for the all- embracing excellence of the car itself, is it reasonable that Linco.tn sales would now be mounting to unprecedented figures? April 29,1922 Surely not

Page 51

Se a ere menage onmreine r i i { i

(Continued from Page 46) that into Rice’s burlesque, Evangeline, in which as Le Blanc he had not only to sing and act but to dance. Besides the jollity of it there was an amusing incongruity in the sight of the sedate “‘Senator”’ in yachts- man’s fatigue doing a rattling jig on the deck of the schooner. After a jovial after- noon Crane went home alone to Cohasset and my wife and I joined the cabin party of the schooner yacht under Gillig’s prom- ise to sail us up to Presbrey’s, an easy cruise of two or three days. Gillig, Californian, had recently married a daughter of a California multi- millionaire. This young couple were on their honeymoon. The Gilligs had with them a Western party, including, besides Mr. and Mrs. Greene, Frank Unger, father of Gladys Unger, the young playwright of to-day; Theodore Worres, painter; Charles Warren Stoddard, poet, author of South Sea Idyls; Harry Woodruff, actor; and Charles Thomas, partner of Charles Hoyt, of the younger group of managers. Gillig and Unger, as members of the Bohemian Club, San Francisco, were also members of The Lambs, where I had met them and — an intimate friendship that lasted ong as both men lived By the time the Ramona reached Booth- bay Harbor, Gillig and his cabin party were opposed to my wife and me leaving for the visit to Presbrey. The amiable contest was adjusted by our spending a few days ashore while the boat cruised near by and our then rejoining for a run to Bar Harbor and back, when our host took Presbrey aboard, too, for a sail back to New York. Any cruise so composed and dowered can fill pages with its record. I shall not write a line, but will leave all to sympathetic understanding under the embracing words of youth and fellowship, sail and song and sea and summer. It would be with the greatest regret that I would eliminate from my experiences that summer and parts of two subsequent ones on the Ramona, and yet I think that nearly all the embarrassment that comes from having one’s expenditures exceed his in- come I could trace to standards accepted at that time. Eugene Field was wise when he refused the winter strawberries, as Mr. Melville Stone relates, because he feared they would spoil his taste for prunes; and then we people of the theater are so easily misled by — 2 rapa so and also by a creative wish to realize a fancy. Only three or four years ago I met Henry Miller in San Francisco, where, like mysclf, he had come to put on some plays in that summer. “Hello, Henry! Why aren’t you on a vacation after your busy season at your New York theater?” From Pathos to Bathos “Because I was not content with a place in the country good enough for any man to live in, but being a damn fool theatrical person had to build stone walls around it, and terraces, and make a production. Now I’m still working to pay for it.” On the Ramona, Greene and I ham- mered out a story we thought would do for Crane’s play. It wasn’t easy, because Crane, like all the comedians at that time, wanted a comedy-drama, something that would give him a chance for the untried substantial powers he was sure he possessed. With this story in hand we had a season ahead of us in which to write the dialogue. Although again getting a little out of the order of events, for the sake of cohesion I will jump ahead to the production of the Crane play which we called For Money. It was a four-act construction, and with a dominant serious note. Crane played a man who had been embittered by finding in his dead wife’s locket, which he had thought contained his own portrait, the picture of another man. This unhappy discovery had been made many years be- fore the opening of our story, and the in- génue of the play, who had come under his protection, speaking in pride of her ante- cedents, showed te Crane a portrait of her father. The unhappy star was to regard it and say in a quiet undertone to himself, “The man whose picture I found on my dead wife’s bosom.” Charles Thdrne or John Mason or Lucien Guitry might have got away with that line, but when Crane spoke it, registering a startled surprise, and spreading his hands in a manner that had been irresistible in the old-time comedy of Forbidden Fruit, the house rocked with laughter.

THE SATURDAY Greene said, “Some of ‘em wanted to cheer for the man in the picture.” The performance was in Cleveland, where Greene and I had a few friends. Sympathetic people tried to restore the equilibrium of the play by appreciating its other serious values, but as Greene said at our little post-mortem when the evening was over, ‘‘ Yes, people came to me in the lobby and said they liked it, but they didn’t slap me on the back.” By the end of the week Brooks and I took blame for our fall-down in equal shares. The play wasn’t as good as it might have been, and Crane didn’t handle serious stuff as well as he hoped he would. I once made a caricature in my guest book of Francis Wilson, under which Frank wrote, “‘Du sublime au ridicule il n'y a qu’un pas,” which some years later I was able to translate. But the fact of the easy step from the sublime to the ridiculous I knew by experience.

Two weeks ahead | Crane’s time for his New York season at the Star Theater was waiting for him. I said, “ Joe, I think I can save the print- ing, the scenery and most of the company and make a farce of this thing in time for | New York.” Brooks said, “‘ For God's sake, do it!” Unintentional Repartee My wife and I went back to the Oriental Hotel. With close application to the work, with the brave use of scissors and paste pot, I rejoined the company in four days with a new script and parts for a broad farce. We rehearsed it in Baltimore, tried it in Washington, came to our dress rehear- sal at the Star in New York with a good company and everybody in high spirits. There occurred at that dress rehearsal a commenplace inquiry of mine which I have seen quoted in newspapers as an example of my brilliant repartee, when it was only the most honest-to-God inquiry a man could make. In the middle of our second act at the Sunday-night rehearsal Brooks loudly clapped his hands after the fashion of the interrupting manager, came down the aisle of the theater, calling my name. I came into the prompt entrance, from where I had been readjusting a light. Brooks said, ‘‘Gus, there are a whole lot of funny things that could be said right there.” Having written myself out on the rush work with the script and worked myself out at rehearsals, and willing to take help from any quarter, I "simply answered, “What amt ey, Joe?’ When I heard the peal from the company that had been interrupted, and from the few people in the otherwise empty parquet, I let the answer go as an example of agility. For Money played a fine eight weeks in New York, but, as I remember, Crane never did it on the road. My first play for Charles Frohman was called Surrender. I believed that we were

far enough from the Civil War to take a comedy view of some of its episodes, and that after the many serious plays that had | handled it the public would be glad to have the subject treated humorously. C. F. thought so too. He liked the script as I gave it to him, and it was turned over to Eugene Presbrey to rehearse in Boston. Presbrey was so appreciative of its values that he thought it a mistake to make a farce of it, and after a conference with C. F., who went over to look at the rehear- sals, they decided to play it seriously, stressing Be se ww every possible | point and introducing a horse. When I | arrived at about the dress rehearsal the | enthusiasm of those two men overbore my first conception of the story, and we went - the public with it as a serious play. It lasted on the road only some sixteen weeks. Maude Banks, the daughter of General Banks, was playing in the piece the part of the only Northern girl. A requirement of the script and of the part was a blue silk sash on her white dress, as I remembered the young women of war days declaring their loyalty. At the dress rehearsal Miss Banks declined to destroy the effect of her white dress by putting any color on it, pre- ferring to leave the company rather than be disloyal to her dressmaker. C. F. said it was too late to do anything about it, and the young lady’s whim prevailed. I don’t think she ever played under Mr. Frohman’s management again. Louis Aldrich, a stalwart actor who as a star had won great reputation in Bartley Campbell’s My Partner and other dramas,

played a Southern general with a line that EVENING POST PUBLIC 263s LEDGER

OF a ile ne . oy fe. ' \~ Po = es, é — . ea - peed ae aie z F = ~ = ~ — - — ~ ‘ i ~ eo ca ere nett Oa a Oe ser i as Bi a ne ay 4 _— - ~ et — - 2 ye — — me. —— oe eee. i oan OAe MILWAUKEE JOURNAL publishes daily PUBLIC LEDGER News **The Journal has had the Public Ledger Combination News Service ever since the service was started. From the first, the service has been remarkably well organ- ized and its management has had a clear conception of its aims. It has foreseen news sources and prepared to develop them. For supplementing news association reports it is invaluable to us. It is alert, speedy and disinterested. It is intelligently and interestingly pre- pared and, above all, it is authoritative. The Public Ledger Service line on news has come to be a guarantee of dependability.”’ (Signed) Harry J. Grant, Publisher The Milwaukee Journal The highest distinction in American journalism, the Pulitzer medal, ‘‘for the most disinterested and meritorious public service rendered by any American newspaper’’, was awarded to the Mil- waukee Journal in June, 1919. It is one of three newspapers which have been thus honored. The Public Ledger is honored by the confidence of this notable newspaper, which relies upon the Ledger Service for much of its foreign news, Washington correspondence, business and finan- cial despatches and other features. PHILADELPHIA PUBLIC LEDGER News Service Find out whether there is a news- paper in your city which carries Public Ledger news and features.

Page 52

THE SATURDAY THE RAZOR THAT SHARPENS ITS OWN BLADES S94 7753 ‘Mine Without removing the blade this razor strops, shaves and cleans ID you ever stop to think of the ups and downs you have in your morning shaves? A couple of good shaves when the blade is new. Then poor ones-—worse each day—till you have to put in another new blade. Here’s a safety razor that will give you a new keen edge every morning in the week. And without constantly paying out good money for new blades. The Valet AutoStrop Razor sharpens its own blades on a straight leather strop—the kind the barber uses. Just slip the strop through the head of the razor—then a few strokes back and forth. After a few weeks, you'll begin to wonder how it’s possible for one blade to keep on giving those smooth-as-silk shaves morning after morning. Convenient? The Valet AutoStrop Razor strops, shaves and cleans without removing the blade. The blade swings free just like the leaf of a book. And the money-saving! More than a solid year of smooth, clean shaves is guaranteed from every $1.00 package of blades. Ask your dealer to demonstrate the Valet AutoStrop Razor for you today. aletAutoStrop Razor Silver plated razor, strop, year’s $5 00 supply of blades, in compact case * bh Strops and blades may also be bought separately Saves constant blade eapense EVENING POST I had taken verbatim from an assertion by Colonel Alfrend that the South had whipped the North on a thousand fields and had never lost except when overcome by supe- rior numbers. Aldrich declined to deliver this speech, because personally he was a Northern man, so that altogether we had considerable trouble with our tempera- mental actors. There came a time in C. F.’s experience and development, however, when he was somewhat more insistent on the effects that he wanted, and when actors were not so ready to oppose him. In the spring of 1892 we built at New Rochelle the house which is still our home. The versatile, volatile Sydney Rosenfeld at that time was among the first if not actually the principal librettist of America, and a writer of comedies. He had one or two suc- cesses on Broadway, and he and I were very closely associated in the Lambs. At his suggestion we went to New Rochelle to find land on which to drive our stakes. For some reason or other Sydney postponed his building and finally abandoned the inten- tion. t socal our first day’s negotiation with Sydney’s friend from whom we hoped to buy the land. Mr. Leo Bergholz, ever since that time in the United States con- sular service, was showing us a little pine thicket on his own land, de snsely grown, the ground covered with fallen needles. He had a pretty wit, but stood somewhat in awe of the great Rosenfeld, who wrote smart dia- logue for the Francis Wilson operas and had also been an editor of Puck. Very Much Incognito Commenting on the seclusion of this copse, Bergholz said, ‘‘No ray of sunshine ever penetrates this gloomy fastness.”’ When neither of us smiled at this medi- eval utterance, Be "gholz repeated it. With some difficulty we continued serious. As Bergholz approached it for the third time he lifted his hands after the manner of a coryphée, and dancing in most amateurish fection a feeble jig, hesaid again, ‘“‘ Noray of sunshine ever penetrates this gloomy fast- ness.” Sydney, locking solemnly at Leo’s feet, remarked, ‘“‘That’s the gloomiest fastness I ever saw.” It was great fun to plan a house. In the old days on the St. Louis Post-Dispatch architecture and real estate had been one of my departments. William S. Eames, one of the youngest and most talented archi- tects of St. Louis, associated with Thomas Young, a pupil of Richardson of Boston, had been a member of our old life class at Washington University. He tried to tell me something each week about the beauties of his art, and I came to believe that an essential feature of domestic architecture was a roof that could be seen. According to Eames, the house should droop its wings and hover its sheltered brood like a mother hen. A memorandum sketch that I turned over to our New York architect, and which my wife still has in her scrapbook, was drawn on the back of an envelope after many conferences as to our joint needs. When we began to build we went to New Rochelle to board in order to be near the oes ry There was no hotel. The best boarding house in the place was kept by two elderly ladies, one of them a Mrs. David, whose husband had been the princi- pal merchant of that little city, and after whose family David's Island, now occupied by Fort Slocum, had been named. We were satisfied with their references, and they inquired for ours. With his permis- sion, I gave them the name of Bronson Howard. They had never heard of him, and asked his business. I told them and named his prominent plays, The Banker’s Daughter, The Henrietta and Shenandoah. They had never heard of any one of these. I said, ‘‘He is your neighbor and owns the house just around the corner,” giving them street and number. They had never heard of that. This story of Howard’s obscurity was a favorite one of mine for many years to illus- trate the indifference of the general public to the men who write plays, until it was superseded by an experience of my own. In 1909 Mr. Shubert asked me to go to Chicago to overlook the performance that the John Mason company were giving in my play, The Witching Hour, at the Gar- rick Theater. I purposely stood in the lobby until the curtain had gone up, and then in my most humorous manner asked the man in the box office if he passed the profession. The lobby was filled with post- ers bearing Shubert’s and Mason’s names, April 29,1922 and my own, in that order of importance and display. The treasurer asked my name, the branch of the profession in which I was. I told him. He asked me the name of some plays I had written. I named four or five, omitting The Witching Hour. He said he would have to ask the manager. The manager came to the box-office win- dow, put me through the same question- naire and shook his head; and it was only when I told him how he would disappoint Mr. Shubert, and pointed to the three- sheet bearing the name I had given him, that he in any way associated the sound with the type. At New Rochelle I became intimately acquainted with Frederic Remington and E. W. Kemble. These two illustrators had been friends for some time elsewhere, and were great companions; but the most beau- tiful side of their friendship needed a third for its precipitation. Kemble is universally amusing when he cares to be. Few men are his equal in putting the spirit of cari- cature into ordinary verbal report or com- ment; even his famous “‘ Kemble’s Koons” do not show such sure fun. Remington re- sponded promptly to Kemble’s comedy, however expressed. Most men who know it do the same, but Remington went further. When Kemble had left him after any inter- view, all of Kemble’s woes of which Reming- ton had been the repository were suddenly dwarfed in the larger horizon of Reming- ton’s experiences and transmuted into side- splitting jokes. In his mind, Kemble was never grown up; and Kemble reciprocated. Remington’s throes, viewed through Kemble’s prism, were just as amusing. They took even each other’s art as play- fellows take each other’s games. There were years when much of their leisure was passed in company. Their understanding was mutual and immediate. One night after the theater, on the train home from New York, sitting together, Remington was by the car window, Kemble next to the aisle. An obstreperous commuter was dis- turbing the passengers, men and women. The busy conductor’s admonition had been ineffective, the brakeman’s repeated ex- postulations useless. The men passengers seemed cowed; the rowdy was gaining con- fidence. On his third blatant parade through the car, and as he passed Kemble’s side, Remington’s two hundred and fifty pounds of bone and muscle reached out into the aisle, and with the precision of a snapping turtle lifted him from his feet like a naughty boy and laid him face downward over Kemble’s interposing lap. With the spirit of perfect teamwork, as Remington held the ruffian, Kemble spanked him, while the legs in the aisle wriggled frantically for a foothold. The correction, prolonged and ample, was accompanied by roars of laugh- ter from fifty other passengers. Being done, Remington stood the offender on his feet. The man began a threatening tirade. Be- fore half a sentence was uttered Remington had him again exposed to Kemble’s rhyth- mic tattoo. This was enough, and when again released the fellow promptly left the car for the seclusion of the smoker. The Hartranft Statue In those early ’90’s my sculptor friend Ruckstull’s relation to life was not unlike my own. He was working in a department of art where there was no regularity of in- come, and where his opportunities were the result of competition. Next to getting an order for a play and finding a story satis- factory to a star or manager was seeing Ruckstull win a commission in a competi- tion where his sketch had been approved. When he got the order for the Hartranft equestrian statue to go up in front of the Capitol at Harrisburg it made quite a little stir in our colony. Besides myself, both Remington and Kemble were artistically interested. After one had submitted a sculptured model sketch which is perhaps eighteen or twenty inches high, the procedure toward the heroic group that is finally to be in bronze is through what is called a fourth- sized model—say, for horse and man per- haps four feet high. Ruckstull decided to make his final clay model of the finished group in France. Studio rent, plaster cast- ing and the final bronze, together with one’s own living for the year that the work would require, would all be so much cheaper that such a foreign residence, with somewhat of a holiday color to it, would about pay for itself. His fourth-sized model, however, he would make in this country, (Continued on Page 53) ee

Page 53

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST % — ERE is the tire that has literally taken the motoring world by storm, A tire that gives an average of 30% more mileage than a fabric, i] as proved by tests covering hundreds of thou- sands of miles—yet costing only about 8% more— f in other words, approximately 22% mileage free. D These new cords are the same size as fabric tires , ” ae and interchangeable with them, and may be fitted ; one at a time as your fabrics wear out. Thus you may take advantage of the economy of cord tires by “easy stages” at practically no increased . s 3 expense. Just ask the nearest Michelin Dealer ’ MICH EI IN about ‘‘ Regular Size” Michelin Cords. } oh Michelin offers a complete line of cord tires—oversize { 97 and regular size, inaonequality only, the best —alljust H rT? 1744 as good as the famous Michelin Ring-Shape Tubes Wholesale Branches in 30 leading cities Dealers every where ' CORDS MICHELIN TIRE COMPANY, MILLTOWN, N. J. _\

Page 54

Children have fewer coughs and colds when every room has radiator warmth No trouble starting in cold weather if there isan American Radiator in the garage From a painting by ADOLPH TREIDLER © ARCO 1922 Dr. Josep Myers, Sr., an Optometrist of Crawfordsville, Indiana, with one Arcota warms both his home and garage. : WHY PAY FOR COAL and Still be Cold? JosepH Myers, Sr., heated his house well, with no more coal than the base burner with an old-fashioned base burner. A consumed. few rooms were very hot and the rest f Thousands of homes are needlessly cold, though of the house was cold. the owners pay large sums for coal. If your He heard of Arcota (perhaps through i house is one of these; if it has cold bed the booklet that is offered here, which Wag! rooms, that can’t be warmed when the you may have for the asking) and he got wind comes from the wrong direction— in touch at once with a Steamfitter in then Arco.a is for you. Crawfordsville. See Arcota in the window of your Plumber or Steamfitter. And send now ARCOLA was installed, with an American Radiator in every room and an extra Ra- diator in the garage. Imagine his delight for the booklet that tells how quickly and when he discovered that Arcota heats cheaply it can be installed; and how it the whole house, and the garage as pays for itself in the fuel it saves. AMERICAN RADIATOR COMPANY IDEAL Boilers and AMERICAN Radiators for every heating need 104 West 42nd Street, New York Dept. 57 816 So. Michigan Ave., Chicago THE SATURDAY EVENING POST April 29, 1922 Se tga naga

Page 55

! : 4 | r ii } | a \ | 1 f ie ht . | | i! f iG f . i H i { ‘ P| i q g oF Fi J - - ' { s i | 4 ' 4 a Continued from Page 50) and for the fun that it would be for all of us I persuaded him to put up a half shade on some open ground back of our house at New Rochelle and do the work there. Remington, a very methodic worker him- self despite his ability to play in off hours, got up early, put in an entire forenoon, and with the interruption of a light lunch worked until nearly three o’clock. Then every day during this stay of Ruckstull’s Remington came over to look at the prog- ress of the model. He once said that when he died he wanted to have written on his tomb ‘‘He knew the horse.’”’ And that could be said of Remington about as truth- fully as of any other artist that has ever lived in America. Ruckstull also knew the horse, but from another angle. It was in- teresting to hear the disputes of these two experts as Ruckstull’s horse progressed in its modeling, Remington always arguing for the wire-drawn Western specimen and Ruckstull standing for the more monu- mental, picturesque horse of the Eastern breeders. During that time I went to Remington's studio one day, where he was drawing a Westerner shooting up a barroom. That hulking figure in the foreground, however, obstructed other detail that he wished to show. Remington immediately dusted off the charcoal outline, and instead he drew his gunman in the background shooting down the room. I said: ‘‘Fred, you’re not a draftsman; you’re a sculptor. You saw all round that fellow, and could have put him anywhere you wanted him. They call that the sculp- tor’s degree of vision.” Remington laughed, but later Ruckstull sent him some tools and a supply of modeler’s wax, and he began his Bronco Buster. It was characteristic of the man that his first attempt should be a subject difficult enough as a technical problem to have daunted a sculptor of experience and a master of technic. His love of the work when he got at it, his marvelous aptitude for an art in which he had never had a single lesson, are some evidence that it was possibly his métier. His few bronze groups and figures that rapidly followed the Bronco Buster and his heroic equestrian monument of The Pioneer in Fairmount Park, Philadelphia, are the work of one who surely would have excelled in sculpture if he had lived to follow it. The Lost Tribe of Dramatists Back in those days there was a wish to improve the theater, not unlike the general desire so prevalent now, and which has never been entirely absent; a feeling that the box office should not so largely domi- nate in the selection of a play, and that its verdict should not be the final one on a dramatic offering. Prominent in this opinion was Mr. Henry B. McDowell, a young man of enthusiasm and high pur- pose, and, what was equally valuable at that time, with somewhat of afortune. Mr McDowell decided upon a winter’s series of plays which should be produced under the repertoire idea and be shown in both New York and Boston. To launch his enterprise he began in the spring of 1892 with a dinner of fifty men, about thirty- five of whom were novelists, magazine writers and poets, the remainder being already engaged in the business of writing plays. I remember among the literary men Mr. William Dean Howells, Charles Dud- ley Warner, George W. Cable, Frederic J. Stimson of Boston, Richard Hovey, the poet, Richard Harding Davis, Edmund Clarence Stedman, Frank R. Stockton, and others. I sat to the left of Mr. Bronson Howard, who during the meal said to me: “These literary gentlemen believe that they con- stitute the lost tribe of American drama- tists, and that the theater will be elevated, if not saved, as soon as they turn their at- tention to it.” This critical attitude startled me some- what, as I remembered so pleasantly Mr. Howells’ little comedies, The Elevator, The Garroters, Register, and the like, printed in 1884 and 1885 in Harper’s. Slightly opposing Mr. Howard, I took the liberty of suggesting that that might be the case. Very definitely this veteran then asked me, ‘Thomas, what is a dramatist?” I answered, ‘A man who writes plays.” “Exactly! What plays have these men written?” Then reénforcing his position he told me that the capacity to write plays invariably evinced itself in a disposition to do so before middle life. When called upon to speak, however, Mr. Howard took a sympathetic attitude toward the venture and talked encouragingly. One other speech that I remember in a general way is that of Mr. William C. De Mille, father of the present De Mille boys of dramatic and motion-picture fame. One line par- ticularly had a considerable influence on my way of thinking. De Mille reported a proposition by Harper Brothers that he should write for them a set of rules for play- wrights. He said: “‘I at first accepted the com- mission, but later declined for the reason that I feared that if I once formulated a set of rules for writing a play I might some time be tempted to follow them.” It was about that time that Frederic Remington, speaking of his own art, as illus- trator and painter, said to me, “Tommy, if I felt cocksure of anything about my business I would begin to be afraid of my- self.” The resolution of each of these ex- perts to keep a perfectly open mind about the things they were doing went far toward retarding my own ossification. Mr. McDowell established his Theater of Arts and Letters and gave the five per- formances. Plays by Mr. Stimson, Rich- ard Harding Davis, Frank Stockton, Clyde Fitch and some other author were produced under the stage direction of Eugene Pres- brey. Mr. Howard took a definite pleasure when the enterprise had closed in calling to my attention the fact that the only play that had made any worthwhile impression was one offered by a professional dramatist, Clyde Fitch, a little thing called The Har- vest, which he subsequently elaborated into The Moth and the Flame. Besides a very generous subscription fund, McDowell lost a substantial sum of his own—as I remember it, thirty-odd thousand dollars. A Reformation That Failed I saw these performances, and after a lapse of thirty years I remember three dis- tinct features: The small talk of a fashion- able company waiting for the bridal couple in a church which made up the background of Fitch’s little play; a line from Frank Stockton’s Squirrel Inn spoken by Mary Shaw, who played the part of a trained nurse applying for a position, and who when the anxious mother asked her if she under- stood babies answered, “I ought to, I dissected one”; a third incident wherein Joseph Wheelock, Sr., played the part of a harassed husband whose wife was a drug fiend. Each sympathetic friend that came upon the stage took the husband’s hand and gripped it in silent sympathy. As the audience began to titter over the repetition of this business Wheelock became sensi- tive. He put his hand behind him when Nelson Wheatcroft, the next member of the company, came near him in a succeed- ing seene. Feeling that something de- pended on the gesture, Wheatcroft took Wheelock by the elbow, recovered the hidden hand and shook it to general laughter that almost closed the perform- ance, It is interesting, at least to me, that out of this expensive essay these somewhat technical points should be the lasting impressions, and that all the fine literary offerings intended for the reformation of the theater should have so vanished. In these early ’90’s Joseph Brooks con- ceived the idea of having a play written with George Washington asthe central char- acter. This was suggested by the resem- blance between the portrait of Washington and that of Joseph Holland, then at the height of his popularity as an actor. Brooks’ idea was to associate Joe and his older brother Edmund. I undertook to write the play, and made a fairly thorough study of Washington's life and times. Avoiding the error of the biographical play which tries to cover too much, I confined my story to the period when Washington was a colonel of the Virginia militia, and before he had mar- ried Martha Custis. I found a character for Ed Holland in Virginia’s Scotch gov- ernor, Dinwiddie. When the play was done the professional engagements of the two men did not allow them to undertake it immediately, and before both were at lib- erty one had fallen ill. The joint project was abandoned. Having faith in the play, I wanted to see it tried, and for that pur- pose went to Boston, where the Castle Square-‘Stock Company at that time had as leading man Jack Gilmour, bearing consid- erable resemblance in face and figure to the THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Love of Oats Foster it in this way Phe love of oats will last a lifetime if you foster it correctly Millions of mothers, in fifty countries, have for decades done it this way They serve Quaker Oat the extra-flavory flake Sonn end 10,000 miles to get it This brand is made from queen gt “ins only just the riecl plump, luscious oat \ bushel of choice oat elds but ten pounds of Quaker Phe result is a wealth of flavor and aroma. The dish is mac delightful This food of food the greatest food that grow is triacte the wanted dish Phe oat is almost a complete food It is nearly the ideal food. It supplies 16 elements which everybody needs As a body-builder and a vim-food it has age-old famx Phen why not get this extra flavor and make the flakes enticing It costs no extra price Quaker Oats Just the cream of the oats (7 SR Quaker Macaroons \ A Confection mh 1 cup sugar, 1 tabl | :' = be ccaden € Gene ailias — > fia Ca beer aod oe, Ml rete baking powder has been added, and add a j vanilla. Beat whites of eggs stiff and > idd last Droy n buttered tins witl . teaspoon, but very few each tit i ‘ they spread Bake VON Makes . ibout 65 cookies Packed in sealed round packages with removable cover aie cml

Page 56

“I Wonder Why She Doesn't Write” write letters when they have writing If you don’t keep up with your PEOPLE material handy. personal correspondence, it may be because you are not supplied with personal stationery. You ” to write because you have no paper and envelopes suitable to use. ‘forget WAMMERM IZ 2 — =BOND Social Stationery Made in three finishes-—linen, bond, and ripple with eight different styles and sizes of envelopes, with sheets to fit. From this selection you can choose just the kind of distinctive personal stationery you like best. Sold by druggists, stationers, and department stores. It is strong, smooth, and pleasant to write upon, and costs but 35c to 75c¢ a box. Also supplied in writing tablets in popular sizes. If you will send us ten cents (stamps or coin) we will mail you nough Hammermill Bond Social Stationery in different styles and nishes to answer several of the letters you owe, Hammermill Bond Secial Stationery prepared by MANUFACTURING CO. Holyoke, Massachusetts WHITE & WYCKOFF Master Makers of Distinctive Stationery a= @). SS >) )y TASS: SE y eS) . - . Pex SAC ESS =: SERS. C=: Be(@ss:: as oe e*- Cy) ESS THE SATURDAY EVENING POST traditional Washington. This stock com- pany played a new play every week, having only five rehearsals in which to prepare. On our first night a young actor who was playing Bryan Fairfax, with two scenes in the first act, was not at hand when we | reached his second one. The usual efforts to hold the stage were made, but we finally had to ring down. The young man | when found was in his dressing room in his underclothing, having forgotten his second scene and begun to dress for his second act. This was explained to the audience, but when we rang up again the whole thing had taken on ov. an air of unreality that two or three other mistakes which have a fash- | ion of running i yp a on hard-luck nights | in the theater | we might have hoped for. sstroyed any impression Later perform- | ances convinced me that I had a good play, | but it was never done after that week. Brooks went to the production of a new play for Crane called The Governor of Kentucky, written by Franklin Fyles. At the end of rehearsals, star, manager and director felt they were in bad shape as to | story. At their dress rehearsal, at the re- | from New Rochelle. quest of the author, I indicated what I thought were the weaknesses, suggested the remedies and told them what I thought the Tuesday morning papers would say. Remembering our quick revision of For Money, Brooks hoped something of the same kind could be done with The Gover- nor. On Tuesday I was waked by telephone at daylight, and at his request came at once By arrangement we met Presbrey and Fyles. Fyles approved of all the proposed changes, but not being in good health left the work with Presbrey and me. Between us we had a revised script that evening, and the version went on be- | fore the end of the week. Brooks insisted | on paying for the day’s work. When I hesi- | tated to name a figure he suggested the canceling of a thousand-dollar note of mine which he held. I agreed. Willie Collier and the Tailor A little later than this Harry Woodruff came to see me at New Rochelle. He had then left the stage and been two years at Harvard College under romantic condi- tions. Harry had won the affections of a daughter of a wealthy family whose mem- bers objected to an actor as a husband for the young woman. They agreed, however, that if Woodruff would go through Harvard | and equip himself for another profession the objections would be withdrawn. They also agreed to pay his way. While Wood- ruff was at his studies the family took the young girl abroad, and with a change of scene and her wider opportunities suc- ceeded in arranging for her an alliance with one of the nobility. With this accomplished, the family had notified Woodruff that the financial support they were giving him at the university would be withdrawn. Harry was courageously making arrangements to pay his‘own way through the remaining two years, and regretting that he had not se- cretly married the girl as he had an oppor- tunity to do. This possible set of relations—a young man in college secretly married and the family trying to marry his wife to a foreign nobleman—struck me as a pretty complica- | tion for a comedy. Having a contract with Goodwin for something to follow In Miz- zoura, I developed that story into a three- act play which I called Treadway of Yale. Goodwin accepted both the scenario and | the finished script, but before the time came for production he married Maxine Elliott, of whose dramatic ability he had | such high opinion that he thought the com- edy gave her insufficient chance. He there- fore forfeited his advance payments on it and returned the script. It was produced some time later under the title of On the Quiet by William Collier under the man- agement of Will Smythe, and later revived by Charles Frohman when Collier passed under his direction. Collier went to London with the piece. During his successful run with it there Willie had occasion to be meas- | ured for a suit of clothes. An English tailor, amused with his American manner, en- deavored to spoof him, a risk that no Amer- | ican tailor would have taken. As he ran his tape over him he said in his blandest manner: “I saw you last night, sir, in your very amusing comedy. Have you played that before the King?” Collier said, ‘‘I play ed it & anybody. I’m the original.” Along in this epoch that I am so infor- mally trying to describe I was one day in April 29,1922 a dark theater listening to a rehearsal of a song intended for Marie Cahill, at that time, I think, still with Daly, or maybe with Duff. In the syncopated accompani- ment there was a hesitation not unlike that intermitting heart jump that so frightens one until the family doctor with his fingers on one’s wrist says ‘‘Too much coffee.” The radiant composer-piano-player bawled above his rac ket to Miss Cahill, “‘ Hear that ragtime?” She did. I was at some loss to distinguish it, but that was my introduc- tion to the term and to the manner. Soon thereafter, a year or two, ‘‘ragtime”’ was a stock word. Some more years and it di- vided space and attention with jazz. Both are negroid. On the border line of the black belt I had been brought up on darky music. While the melancholy of slavery was upon them the negroes, intensely, responsive to and expressive in music, had found a solace in the Stephen Foster Kentuc ky Home kind of melody and a racial cadence woven into the tunes of the Baptist hymnal. Their lighter output just after abolition was of the rap-tap-a-tap-tap school of sand dance, the MeNish silence-and-fun variety. When full equality got onto Sixth Avenue, ragtime, the African tom-tom in a red vest, made its appearance. Jazz was its offspring. Jazz is ragtime triumphant and transfigured, the Congo arrived at kingdom come. Plato on Jazz The nation’s feet kept time. The two- step gave way te the fox trot and the shimmy came along with jazz. Central Africa saw ghosts. Some moralist speaks of a certain ferocity in Nature which, ‘‘as it had its inlet by human crime, must have its outlet by human suffering.”” Why may not jazz be the cutaneous eruption of the virus of black slavery? If Davies and Vaughan are accurate in their translation of Plato’s Republic the idea is not so novel as the inquiry, for therein Plato says: “The introduction of a new kind of music must be shunned as imperiling the whole state, since styles of music are never disturbed without affecting the most im- portant political institutions. The new style,” he goes on, “gradually gaining a lodgment, quietly insinuates itself into manners and customs; and from these it issues in greater force, and makes its way into mutual compacts; and from compacts it goes on to attack laws and constitutions, displaying the utmost impudence, until it ends by overturning everything, both in public and in private.”’ It might no doubt amuse Plato to take fifty years of musical progression in Amer- ica and check its changes against our chang- ing compacts, laws and constitutions. “But say, this guy Plato—where does he get that compax-and-constatution stuff? Who wised him to anything about show business? An’ lissun! This Davus and Vaughan—words by, music by—I never ketch them on no big time neither.” Frederic Remington, with a natural social philosopher’s view of them as they worked not only in the theater but in life, refused to believethat the overflowing tide ofignorance was destined to inherit thefruits of the earth. He disliked the growing influence of the unassimilated immigrants. He hated the political herding of them. He loathed all politicians because they talked. He loved the soldiers because the military acted promptly and without debate. In his day in the West the local advent of troopers meant sudden and inflexible order. He saw humanity’s future safe only under military discipline. We differed, but I liked his mettle and his impatience with conditions. At Remington’s I met several of his soldier friends, among them Gen. Nelson A. Miles, then the commanding major general; also Capt. Francis Michler, decorated for gallant service against Indi- ans in Arizona in 1872 and 1873. When finally confused with the rewrites and inventions for the theater in which I was then becoming involved, I resolved again to go for a subject to the plain and primitive things as far as one could find them. Encouraged by Remington, and definitely interested by his enthusiasm, I took a mandatory letter that Remington got from General Miles to all commandants in the West instructing them to give me information and assistance, and with no preconceptions as to story went to Arizona in 1897 to get a play. It was an important turning point in my career. Editor’s Note—This is the ninth of a series of twelve articles by Mr. Thomas. The tenth will ap pear in an early issue. ——— —

Page 57

— So at ee —— When you select your suction cleaner, keep that important fact in mind RS. John Thompson, 1531 E. 82nd Street, Cleveland, O., was sure that her 9 by 12 Axminster rug was clean. She smiled a little when the Royal Man pro posed to get dirt out of it. But the Royal Man smiled, too, plugged in the cord, pressed the convenient trigger- switch, and ran his machine over the rug for exactly 6 minutes. He then emptied from the Royal's bag 10 ounces of dirt! The most and worst dirt is 1N your rug—not on it The 10 ounces of dirt that came out of Mrs. Thompson's “clean” rug was largely embedded dirt. The jar-of-water laboratory test shows how much of this unsanitary dirt there is as compared with surface litter. When ordinary cleaning methods have removed the surface litter from your rugs, that is what is left deep down in the fab- ric. It is unsanitary, germ-breeding—the worst kind of dirt. And it contains much sharp grit that gradually cuts and injures the fibre of your rugs. How Royal’s powerful suction gets this dirt To get out all of this dirt a cleaner must, we believe, do three things. It must produce a powerful suction. This suction must be uni form all along the nozzle. And the nozzle must be adjusted “directly” to the rug surface. The Royal does these three things. Its suction is not only powerful but actually increases slightly in use. Scientific and pat- ented design creates a uniform suction along the entire 14-inch nozzle length. And DEALERS: The valuable Royal Franchise may be had in certain citie RETAIL REPRESENTATIVES: There are numerous desirable opportunities for men the capacity of Royal Men. Inquire of the local Royal dealer about openings in your locality with the patented Royal adjustment screw, the powerful, uniform suction is applied “directly” to the rug surface. Yet the Royal, thorough as it is, is abso- lutely harmless. You can clean even your Orientals daily without fear of the slight- est injury to them. Easy to use—and built to last a lifetime The Royal is so light, it weighs barely 11 pounds, and it requires so few strokes over the rug (because it cleans so fast) that it will never tire you. The trigger-switch on the handle saves stooping to turn on the current, and the Royal nozzle is designed to get into corners and under furniture with greatest ease. With such mechanical simplicity and precision is the Royal built that it is prac- tically trouble proof. And it is made to last a lifetime. Remember, true economy and thrift lie in the purchase of articles of real value rather than at low price. Let the Royal Man show you Arrange with the Royal Man to clean a rug in your home—without obligation to you. He will also show you how to clean from cellar to garret— how to clean concrete, hardwood and linoleum floors; renovate mattresses and pil- lows; remove the dirt from upholstered furni- ture or hangings; and clean in and around fire- places, registers, radiators, etc. Don’t be content with getting only the sur face dirt! The most dirt and the really harmful dirt is in the fabric, not on the surface. Tue P. A. Gerer Company, Cleveland, Ohio Manufactured in Canada by Continental Electric ¢ Limited, Toronto, Canada sand towns. Write for complete informat ROYAL Electric Cleaner Lieans By Air Alone THE SATURDAY EVENING POST EMBEDDED DIRT This laboratory test shows how the Royal removes the EMBED. DED dirt, as well as the SURFACE litter. Much of the embedded dirt is gritty and injurious to Tug Muwch of it is unsanitary and laden with germs Notice that the Royal not only picks up all SURFACE DIRT but removes all of the EMBEDDED DIRT THE ROYAL MAN y The Royal Man is trained in matters of | housecleaning and can show you many interesting labor-saving methods of cleaning Without obligation on your part, he will be glad ¢ lean a rug for you an let you judge for yourself the worth of the Royal The P. A. Geier Company expects every Royal Man to be courteous, con siderate, and never insistent in his deal ings with you. You need never hesitate to ask a Royal Man for a demonstration in your home In practically every community there is a Royal Man retail store handling electrical appliances who will be glad to explain the superi ority of this new cleaning method nnected with a reliable If you do not know where to reach him, write us and we will see that y are put in touch with him

Page 58

read my letter from Amanda. But I could not afford te quarrel with the old rascal; I was too used to him. I nodded my head at him and spoke to Valentine. “Briggs has been with me a great many years, my dear; he is the person to ask if ou want anything. He carries my mind and my money about with him. Briggs, this is my niece, Miss Valentine Forster. I don’t think either of them spoke. Val- entine laughed a little, and her eyes lighted ith mischief that was purely childish as he met the respectful glance of my servant. Did I say respect 1? It was devoted. Yes, he knew who Valentine was, and he was ready worshiping her family tree. Pshaw! Che old snob! I turned from him in disgust. Outside, e trees in Central Park were tinged with green; spring was here; the pool with the wans on it, up and down which the chil- dren sail in summer, had already been decked out with tiny boats. The sun sparkled on the mirrorlike surface, and the blue of the sky was the blue that only a young and slender woman can wear. Magic!” said Valentine, following ‘my gi 12e, ‘I had the pie ture framed especially for my windows,” I said flippantly, and turned to pour out her coffee. But Briggs had forgotten nothing; he had done that and withdrawn. Drat the fellow! I urged her to eat, but she was almost too tired. The coffee and the warmth of the room revived her somewhat, and presently we managed to get re und to the subject of Amanda's letter. To my surprise and relief 1 found her very direct. Most of the Eng- iish girls I remembered were so vague and vaporish. Of course that was some time ago. Things change. She told me that her father had been missing for two weeks. “He just walked in one night, Uncle Magnus, and stood in the door of the lrawing-room looking at me, his overcoat thrown back, his white shirt front gleaming in the light from the fire. He looked very excited somehow, and as if he had been keyed up to something tremendous; the way he looked sometimes when he had been doing a dreadful operation that no one else would undertake. He is so clever,’ she added proudly; “and so—so strange some- times, although people don’t guess that, ever. Mother had warned me about him when he looked that way. I must be very quiet and matter-of-fact, she said, and not disturb him by my manner; the thing to do was to get him to rest, anyhow, any- where. I don’t know, but I think that something had happened once when they were first married to make mother afraid of what he might do when he was in a tired mood like that —so I just called to him and he came into the room, throwing down his coat. You know, Uncle Magnus, our house is very old-fashioned and furnished almost entirely with things grandma gave to mother when she was married, Beautiful, in its way, but not a bit like your room here. “Father had to pass several small tables to get to the fireplace, and they must have annoyed him, because he kicked one of them over and just left it lying there, and he is so polite; that wasn’t a bit like him. I began to be more than a little disturbed, but I wouldn't have let him see for the world, and I kept on gripping my work and telling myself over and over inside that I must remember how mother used to act and try and take her place, when suddenly the dreadful thing happened.” She stopped, and the face she turned to me had lost every vestige of color; even her lips were white, And her blue eyes were almost black, she was so much in earnest. “T don’t suppose it will seem horrible to you,’ she said; “it doesn’t to anyone except me, but I saw it happen, you see; that makes a difference. Father came to the fire and stepped dead, looking over at the ottoman, And then I knew that I’d done something terrible, though I did not see why it should be. “Did you ever hear, Uncle Magnus, of Dick Forster, daddy's younger brother? He was just a baby, I think, when you and father were at college, and when I was little i used to think he was splendid, though I believe he was the most awful spendthrift, and quite wild, He used to visit at home a lot when I was at school at Miss Clay- ton's--he was house surgeon at one of the THE SATURDAY EVENING POST JOSEPH’S COAT (Continued from Page 11) hospitals then—and once when I was home for the holidays he came in at lunch time and asked for the governor—that’s what he called father—and heaved such a sigh of relief when he found he was not there nor expected. He had curly fair hair and al- ways wore the most extraordinary clothes; at least mother said they were extraordi- nary, but I used to admire them like every- thing. This time he had on some pink socks with black silk clocks, and a most gorgeous waistcoat; it was of maroon silk, fine as could be. Mother laughed about it; she always teased him about things; and he said seriously, ‘Mar’—that is what he always called mother for short—‘you don’t know what that waistcoat cost! I just wish I had the money I gave for it, now.’ “Well, we had lunch, and Dick was just as gay as he always was, laughing and chaffing mother all the time the servants were in the room; but when they had gone and we were drinking our coffee he sobered suddenly. ‘Listen, Mar,’ he said, ‘will you do something for me? Will you promise toto always be the same to me, whatever happens?’ “Mother grew a igi me but she put down her coffee cup and smiled at him. ‘Why, Dick, you know I will,’ she said. Mother had an awfully comforting way of saying things like that. And when she spoke Dick stretched out his hand on the tablecloth—he had such beautiful hands and he said hurkily, ‘Bless you, I believe you will too.’ And he got up to go. “Well, I don’t know what happened ex- actly, because I wasn’t there, but mother followed him out into the hall, and I heard them go into one of the reception rooms and close the door, and presently mother came back into the room and hunted in her desk for a check book and went out with it, and when Dick left he was laughing, and mother came back into the room with the maroon-colored waistcoat in her hand, and she was laughing, too, only she had tears in her eyes, “*That absurd boy!’ she said, and sat down with the waistcoat on her lap, smooth- ing it absently with her fingers every now and then, with a little frown between her brows. “* What was it, mummy?’ I said. ‘Didn't Dick take his waistcoat?’ And she laughed again softly, and said, ‘No, the foolish boy; he insisted on taking it off and going away without it.’ “*Why?’ L asked her, because, of course, I was still a little girl, and I didn’t under- stand about not asking all the questions you want. “*Why?’ she repeated, bought it, dear.’ “So that was all that happened that day, but often after that Dick would come in a waistcoat of some different design—once it was of moleekin, I remember, orna- mented with little silver buttons—and he always left them behind him. Mother grew to have quite a collection, and she always kept them in the ottoman in the drawing- room, close to the fireplace, and once I re- member she said to him that any time he wanted to be particularly gay he knew where they were; he could take which one he wanted. But he only shook his head, laughing the way he always did. “*No, Mar, you've been an angel from heaven, but I won't take my trophies until I've earned them,’ he said. ‘Some day I'll pay you back and take them away in a taxi. “That was the last time I ever saw him, I think; the day he said that. For when I came back from school the next term he had gone, and mother was very sad about it when I asked her. ‘Don’t speak of him to your father, dear,’ she said; ‘he’s very down on Dick. He didn’t understand that he was just a boy; he is always so upright and honorable himself.’ ‘“*And Amanda told me there was a most dreadful scene once. Dick had been hauled before the governors of his hospital—he was a house surgeon, and so clever, they said— because he had been found gambling one night with some students. Daddy had been called in, and it was due only to his influence that Dick was allowed to stay. He begged and begged father to take him on as his assistant, but father—Amanda said he sneered, “*Take you, and have the death of a patient on my hands— while you gambled and forgot!’ ‘Because I “Take that back!’ Dick cried furiously. ‘I never neglected a patient in my life, and ou know it.’ They glared at each other ike wild men, but father would not give in; he never gave in—he believed it, I suppose.” She gave a tiny sigh. “But Dick wasn’t bad, you know; just different. _— always thought he’d come out all right. “Once I heard mother and father talking about Dick—I think it was when daddy had been paying some of nis de’.ts—and he said angrily that he hadn’t brought any- thing from Oxford but his bad name. Dear mother contradicted him—which is what she very seldom did. She said, ‘Oh, you are wrong, Clement. He brought the best reputation as a fancy dresser of anyone in the varsity.’ And she laughed a little, a sad laugh. She was awfully fond of Dick. “So that night when father came home I had been looking at the waistcoats in the ottoman and thinking that I ought to wrap them up in mothproof paper before the spring came, and I suppose I hadn’t set the lid down properly, for father caught hold of it with an impatient exclamation and instead of shutting it, jerked it open, and there, of course, lay all Dick's fancy waistcoats! “He stared at them for a minute, and then he put down the lid quite gently and looked at me, and he looked just as he did when the news came of Toddy’s death. Toddy was my little brother, you know, Uncle Magnus, and he died at Marl- borough, while he was at school, the last year of the war. It wasn’t anyone's fault; he simply had a weak heart and no one knew it, and the rifle exercises he did were too much for him. But father always laughed at him when he said he didn’t want to be a cadet, the work made him so tired; and when he died, just because he had been one—though he wanted to, any- way, when it came to wartime, you know, because they were training even the little boys in all the schools—well, father felt as if he had had a hand in killing him. “He'd taken up one of the waistcoats it happened to be the one I remembered best of all, the one made of maroon-colored silk—and he felt it all over and he had the most dreadful expression. I can’t describe it. It wasn’t remorse, and yet it had a lot of that in it too. And he said, more as if talking to himself than to me, ‘First the little brother, and then my son!’ Then quite gently he dropped the waistcoat in the box and shut the lid, and muttered something to himself. I didn’t quite catch it, but I thought he said ‘Joseph’s coat!’ “T said wouldn’t he have some hot milk, or perhaps a whisky and soda, but he said no, he’d have some tea if I could get it for him when it was so late, and I went down to the kitchen myself—it is in the base- ment at home, and you can’t hear what anyone is doing in the drawing-room, of course, because that is up two flights; you remember what English houses are like in the city, don’t you, Uncle Magnus?—and made the tea. All the servants had gone to bed, of course, because it was really very late; about two o’clock in the morning. “When I came back with the tea the drawing-room was empty; but all the lights were on, so I thought father would be back in a minute, and set down the tray and waited. But after a while the house was so still and I heard nothing of father in his room, so I went up to see where he was. ‘‘No; he wasn’t there’’; she replied to my inquiring gaze. ‘We never saw him after that, and I think that when I was in the kitchen I heard the front door slam, though I didn’t notice it at the time. “Uncle Magnus, we’ve done everything to find him, everything we can think of. It was as I had thought at first, only his evening clothes put me off; daddy had done a difficult operation that night; he'd been dining out and they’d sent for him from the hospital. He was simply ex- hausted when he came home, and 1 sup- pose those waistcoats --— You see,” she added explanatorily, ‘“‘ Dick had gambled away almost all his money, and he’d asked father time and again to let him come to him as assistant, because the particular work father specialized in was more inter- —s to him than anything in the world. But father told him to keep straight first and then he’d see. So when Dick simply hadn’t anything more to sell he’d taken to his heels and flown the country, and mother April 29, 1922 told me once that he had gone to America and died there. Somehow that must have preyed on father’s mind, you see. There isn’t any other explanation. Sometimes people do strange things—the strangest people—the very ones you think never could!”’ It was not in the least like my concep- tion of Clement, but I could not tell his daughter that. He had always been selfish in his young days; why shculd he have changed now? It was plain that he had been a drag on Marie, and that drag had descended to his daughter. Why, this little girl should have been in school now, not hunting in a strange country for a lost father. But I couldn’t say any of this to Valen- tine while she sat with her eyes wistfully on me, her face tense for something—a crumb of comfort, perhaps, I don’t know what else—her lips trembling with eager- ness to pour out all that had been pent up in her heart during that long ride across the ocean. “You see, Uncle Magnus,” she said, “everyone else thinks that I am crazy to come here to find daddy, everyone except Clem. I’ve had to fight them all, all the uncles and aunts-——all the people who even think themselves related to us.” She passed her hand wearily across her brow. I could see that for an instant she was back again in England facing them one after another, all wearing that implac- able expression of right that is so antago- nistic to the one who is determined to do something that is never done, all with some coldly wise argument that means nothing to the person possessed of a passion for a righteous or otherwise. And suddenly I found myself violently on ‘her side, championing her cause, wishing her well in a quest that could not be any- thing but futile. At least it would give the child a rest to visit me, to see something of that America that as yet she viewed so dispassionately merely as a hunting ground for a lost father. Desire to make her love the country for itself rose up in me. She would love—with passion—once she was aroused, this little girl. For the first time I saw that she had possibilities of beauty, of something that distinguished her frum the usual run of American girls, beauties though they are and there is no more ardent admirer of the American woman than I—something that set her apart from most girls. It came to me with an accompanying mistiness of the eyes that filmed my glasses over that it was a sense of sacrifice. Valentine had probably never had simply a good time. What with one thing and another, lots of English girls don’t. During the slight inconvenience caused by the mistiness of my glasses I had missed some subtle change of mood in the girl before me. When I regarded her again she was look- ing out at the park with an expression in her eyes I had not seen before, something wondering, almost ecstatic. I did not wonder at her. After sixteen years in New York I never tired of looking at my view, the view of Central Park framed by blue sky and shining in rarefied air. You must have been born over there to know how clear the air of even New York is—the gold on the roof of the Cen- tury Theater glinting in the sun—the air of ciarm and hustle everywhere below. I believe even Briggs loved it. And now here was another one, sitting with her hands clasped before her, her eyes mirroring the glory of the whole. “Magic, isn’t it?’’ she said again with- out turning her head, just as if she had known me for a long time, and I believe the dear child felt that she had, somehow. “Isn't it—isn’t it a foreign city—like a dream—when you think of London? And,” she went on, not waiting for me to answer, “‘how father would love it! After he got used to it of course. Oh! I mustn’t miss any time hunting for him!” She started out of her chair so rapidly and with such grace that I was surprised. I stood up also, but laid a detaining hand on her shoulder. “What makes you so sure he is here, Valentine?” She flushed, but her eyes met mine steadfastly. She caught her breath a mo- ment before she answered. (Continued on Page 61) 2S See ' ———e

Page 59

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ALICE BRADY MILDRED HARRIS STUDY the pictures of these beautiful women and you will see just how much their hair has with their appearance. Beautiful hi uir is not a matter of luck, it is matter of care You, too, can have beautiful hair if you care for it properly. Beautiful h: ur depends almost entirely upon the care you give it. Shampooing is always the most important thing. It is the tae which brings out the real life and lustre, natural wave and color, and makes your hair soft, fresh and luxuriant. When your hair is dry, dull and heavy, and gummy, and the strands cling together, feels harsh and disagreeable to the touch, your hair has not been shampooed properly. When your hair has been shampooed properly, and is thoroughly cle an, it will be glossy . smooth and bright, delightfully fresh looking, soft and silky. While your hair must have frequent and regular washing to keep it beautiful, it cannot stand the harsh effect of free which is common in ordinary soap. The free alkali dries the sc alp, makes the hair brittle and ruins it. That is criminating women, } shampoo, to do imply a lifeles " stiff and it it 1s because al k ali, oon } why leading motion picture stars and dis- every where, now Mulsified cocoanut oil This clear, pure and entirely greaseless product cannot possibly injure, and not dry the scalp or m the hair brittle, no m: how often you use It. If you want to see how really beautiful you can make your hair look, just follow this simple method: A Simple, Easy Method jpeg put two or three glass with a scalp with clear the Mul iT vy over the hair ¢ ill over the Sethe as down to the ends of the hair. Two or three teaspoonfuls w lath r. This should be skly with the finger tips, andruff and small particles of dus t and dirt that stick to the scalp. use If dot S ake itter Mulsified 1 he n warm water. Pour nd rub it the roughly the entire length, te aspoonful s of 1 a cup or little warm water. wet the hait ] d evenl SC alp and ill — an abur rubbed in thor- So as to loosen ich, creamy ; }, nad a i MAE MURRAY MARY MacLAREN lance of BETTY PRISCILLA DEAN Mulsified iway After rubbing i: rich, creamy lather, rinse the hair and scalp thoroughly fresh, warm water. Then use anotl applic Mulsified, again work briskly as before. Makes Your Hair Beautiful COLOANUT Of SHAMPOO WATKINS MULSIFIED COCOANUT OIL SHAMPOO | ' % VIOLA DANA clean, trands ilone Rinse the Hair Thoroughly HIS is very | sh the hair and alp should b r ! least changes of gx 1 with ing in cold w After i Mu quich nd ) nd two i rins oo you will find the hair will dry have 1¢ appearance of being much th ng will keep the ky, bright, fresh looking aye and it wiil be Keeping a Child's Hair ve —— he ld be taug 4 proj of the hale ie oan preciated tn apy 1 of hair is something to be RUBY De® EMER CORINNE GRIFFITH

Page 60

Fr FAO 8, ee hte a lente tt tesla SATURDAY EVENING POST April 29, 1922 fF © 8M acute tw Sb aaw ‘Lo —to those who give a hearing to men who try to please them By V. K. Cassady, B. S., M. S., Chief Chemist I am asking here for a simple test of a unique shaving cream. I spent a lifetime to qualify to make it. 1 con- sulted 1,000 men to learn just what they wanted. | made up and discarded 130 formulas before | attained this perfection. Now I ask you to try it—free. And if you have something you are equally proud of, I'll do the same for you. No ordinary soap We are makers of Palmolive Soap. It is based on palm and olive oils—the premier cosmetics since the days of Cleopatra. To millions of women it has brought new beauty —skins like velvet, soft, clear, clean. The makers desired to combine that blend in a shav- ing cream for men. But they insisted that we first create the best shaving soap in existence. What men wanted We first learned what men wanted, by 1,000 inter- views. Then, step by step, we met those wants in scien- tific ways. In18months we made and tested 1 30formulas. They wanted abundant lather. We made a soap which multiplies itself in lather 250 times. They wanted enduring lather. We made a lather which maintains its creamy fullness for ten minutes on the face. They wanted quick results. Within one minute, with our soap, the beard absorbs 15% of water. And that’s enough to make a tough beard cut like wax. PALMOLIVE Fair-Mfg LLL LS, VA Lf, = os 7.72 Sasa QQ. They wanted the skin left soft and velvety, f irritation. The palm and olive oils do that, as in P Soap. We've won the men This shaving cream has won. Its sudden su seemed like a fable. And every user has been w some former favorite. Now we ask your verdict. We have done this SHAVI

Page 61

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST SEs ea eae, al wml fas ash | ree from ilmolive cess has on from o please Vee i (eCtellana Gerciny Multiplie s It self im Lather Times A tiny bi just ie-half inch uffices for a shave. One tubs over a hun 1 ves. A bit makes a lather ball as big Softens the Beard in One Minute Within one minute the then be cut like wax men like you. In mutual fairness try it and tell us what you think. Stop now and cut the coupon. Just make this test at our expense ' Leaves the Ski Send the coupon for this ten-shave tube. Compare and Velvety results with the best shaving soap you know. lo lotion required. Then decide for yourself. We will accept your choice. on. The after-effects are del CREAM supplie pea-size i irrita- ily ad» uy’ rs Tee 6 6 we om , ! beard absorbs 15° of water And that’s enough. The horniest beard may htful. This blend of Simply insert your nat “10 Shaves FREE | THE PALMOLIVE COMPANY, Dept. B-288 , | Milwaukee, U. S.A

Page 62

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST April 29, 1922 The Old Way and The New LD ways must give way to new ways. Time is too precious to waste. Back-breaking stoop- ing to dust, clean and polish the floors is no longer necessary—it is a foolish drudgery. Compare these pictures—the old way and the new way. The new way is the O-Cedar way. It means even more than the pictures show. It means cleaner, brighter and prettier floors. The saving of time, work and money. r. oo The O-Cedar Polish Mop has six decided improvements, besides being bigger, stronger and better than ever before and, best of all, a decided reduction ; in price. = Sold on Trial i, — Simply deposit the price (Large size, $1.50, Cottage size, $1.00) with your = dealer. Put your O-Cedar Mop to every test, and if you are not delighted with the result your money will be refunded without a question. . Prices in Canada, $1.25 and $2.00. Volution Today’s way of beautifying furniture and woodwork is to use O-Cedar Polish. For O-Cedar ‘Cleans as it Polishes.’’ BHATT tin ipenn In place of a greasy, dust collecting shine or liquid coating O-Cedar Polish cleans the furniture and woodwork of all dust, scum, finger marks and the like, brings out the beauty of the grain of the wood and then imparts a high, dry and lasting lustre that does not get gummy, sticky or collect dust. In this way O-Cedar really beautifies, cleans, polishes —all at the same time. O-Cedar Polish is uncondition- ally guaranteed and your dealer will refund your money if you are not delighted with the O-Cedar result. Years ago people greased their furniture to give it a gloss 30c to $3 sizes at all dealers OvCia Then came a quicker method—a CHANNELL CHEMICAL CO. liquid coating Toronto - Lo dee: Pecia Cape Tew to merely make it shine

Page 63

ee t 1 | Pf i | | | | \f rt (Continued from Page 56) “You'll think me foolish, but I think he came to punish himself. He’s doing some- thing different, something odd for him. Uncle”’—she came a trifle closer; her eyes grew wide—‘‘I—I believe he’s wearing ex- traordinary clothes—making people stare at him; for a penance, you know. Perhaps even a—a maroon waistcoat. You see, he said that about Joseph’s coat. Does it sound awfully silly to you?” I never saw such wistfulness in a girl’s eyes. I didn’t know a girl could look like that. A lump rose in my throat; she was so little, so much in earnest. I didn’t believe Clement had come here. It didn’t sound to me like him; and yet his daughter ought to know. Whether her reasoning was right or not, I could follow it. I looked back at her gravely. “No, it doesn’t seem silly,” I said. She smiled. ‘I know it as well as if he had told me when he left home that night he was so tired. There isn’t any reason in it, not as grown persons speak of reason, but there is plenty for me. When I knew that night that daddy had gone—it came to me suddenly that he had disappeared, that everything had been too much for him, just as mother had always feared it might—I sat down in a chair, numbed. I couldn’t think of anything except that he had gone, gone now that mother was not there to take care of him. I went through such terrible fears—fears ” She caught her throat at the memory of them, even. “After a bit I grew quieter, and then prayed. I don’t think I said much except ‘O God! O God!’ just like that, but after a bit the answer came. It wasn’t in the shape of words; just that I began to think about America saa I remembered you. I seemed to know quite clearly that I must come here and search, that you would help me. That is why I came before they have nearly finished searching all the places they are going to in London. They pretend to think that he has just wandered off, that he may be in any of a hundred places. They say he had a nervous breakdown, and per- haps he lost his memory; that’s what one of the doctors suggested; amnesia, he called it. They dragged the Green Pond, they have inspected everybody brought up from the river; but I haven’t worried about that much, because I know that father is here. The shining eyes, the voice gathering sweetness and vibrancy as she continued, the utter trust in her own absurd little dream somehow touched me as nothing else had. Let her believe it if she wished. Probably while she was here they would find Clement's body back in London some where, and the dismal details would be over while she was out of the way. Let the relations—the whole caboodle of ’em attend the funeral and say ‘“‘I told you so” to one another. I at least had the flower of the family here, and she should try her hand at America before she went back to them all. ‘You’re just like your mother, my dear,” I said. Which after all isn’t a bit what I wanted to say—for Marie had been a good soul, but always a little dull, while this girl was instinct with grace and iife and pep. But you'd have thought I’d paid her the finest compliment in the world. She flushed, and squeezed my hand suddenly with a con- vulsive clasp. ‘I’m not half so good!” “Probably not,” I said dryly—I like ’em with a bit of fire in their make-up, m self—‘‘but you suit me.” And then to my surprise she burst out crying and hung around my neck, and I found myself wiping her eyes with a hand- kerchief that was hopelessly inadequate, since I had taken it out of her own hand, and patting her back just as if she had been a baby. She was tired out; I saw that. And just as I was about to suggest that she go to her room and take a nap Briggs appeared in that suave way of his and said that Miss Valentine’s room was ready, and since the boat had docked so early would she care to take a sleep, and in the meantime we could find out all the in- formation from the steamship companies about passengers who might have a re- semblance to the doctor. I hadn’t thought of that, but I had to ad- mit that it was a good notion. I nodded my head wisely and assured her that I would have everything shipshape for the search by the time she was awake, and as she disappeared with Briggs—I hovered in the background, for when it comes to mak- ing arrangements I have to admit that the rascal is much better than I—I heard a female voice upraised in respectful wel come. Briggs had imported an elderly maid for my niece, a creature as perfect as himself. I heaved a sigh of relief as I saw Valentine consigned to her hands be- hind closed doors But that should not prevent me having it out with Briggs! He did not even reply to my tirade, merely suggesting by his attitude that I spoke with the wisdom of Solomon—that he was humbled in the dust. When I bega to repent my severity he made the sugge tion he had been waiting to make: “Shall I take in hand the gathering of information ory the doctor, sir? I know you won’t want to be bothered with that; too much detail. And Miss Valentine r, she'll « njoy so iety and the theater, but Jane says she only brought two suitcas and she has nothing fit to wear. Shall I order from Tendrin’s, or will you go your self, sir > He didn’t ish entence, just stood waiting ether» eg ‘and I felt my heart give a great leap of pleasure there is an old bachelor in the werld who hasn’t lor ged at some time or other to dress a pretty woman—not as she wants to dress herself, but as he would dre her? Fora long time I’d owned a half share in an island where they breed birds of paradise the big plumes that had come to me were packed away in a storehouse. I'd been paying storage on them for years and years. Now | had a woman to dress, even if she were a very little woman. But oh, she was sweet and charming and almost my own flesh and blood! I sprang up with haste and told Briggs I'd go myself. “And I'll telephone Mrs. James, sir?” said he. “Eh, what?” said I, staring. For a mo- ment I didn’t follow him. Then I knew that as usual he had been perfection. Mrs James is a tg! old dowaget with a heart of gold, who has been my good friend ever since I was a clerk in her husband’s bank Then when I got on and they gave me a position of trust she gave herself the joy of running me socially, as she called it. I didn’t appreciate what it meant then, but later I’d known that anyone Mr Jame sponsored wa bour | to be i? the proper running; she’s a social arbiter, even in these hurrying days. 5 * of course knew this, too, and he intended \ have the best start possible As I was get ting into the taxi he came runni “Mrs. James wi re be pleased, Mr. Mag nus, if Miss Forster pod you will have tea with her this afternoon ‘Te lephone Mrs. James we'll be de lighted,”’ I said, and sl ed the door Briggs is an excellent set t, but hang it all, a man does occasions like to do a little thinking for hims« If Val, I could see, would need the most careful turning out. She might be a beaut or she might be almost plait going to be a success, I de¢ ‘ not hesitate to get Tendrin himse bed to talk the matter over. He keeps late hours and usually sleeps until noon. The little man became quite excited after a bit, and sketched two or three of |} pet idea for me. In the meantime he had a velvet suit and some smoky fox furs and three or four befurred and befeathered little hat packed into big boxes for me and ser ) to the apartment, He understood that the young mees had distinction, he declared so much better than beauty alone I chuckled to myse lf, because I believed that she might be beautiful as we 3ut even so I wasn’t prepared for the Val who appeared in the stud The el derly maid stood right behind her, her grin face relaxed in a smile as she wat see the result of her handiwork. I think she knew in that minute something of how artist feels as he watches the i his latest picture. For I stared at Vale: tine with my eyes popping out of my head. Talk of your beauties! She was exquisit I stared, and I chuckled, and she laughed softly. No girl could have | ] the clothes and the sight her mirror had shown her. Val had cheeks the color of wild roses now, and her eyes were as blue as er ntians. “Uncle Magnus,” she said, “you wiz- ard!” I squeezed her hand; a] my throat. The pretty little thing—the pretty little thing! I felt as if my daughter ti imp came into THE SATURDAY EVENING POST had come to life before me, though I'd never had a daughter; but I imagined I felt as a father would feel. Mrs. James was sitting very stiffly in her chair, but she stood up and peered at Val in amazement when I presented her. She bec am quite excited and ng red and pinche d my hand behind Val’s back. She adios d me for not having told her of Val- entine’s expected arrival. “Tf you had,” she said, ‘‘I’d have denied myself to everyone, and we'd have planned a sensation to introduce the child. Why, Magnus, she’s a fairy, a fairy! Why didn’t yu tell me you had this in hiding? Man he'll be the rage in half an hour, once she’ seen. Oh, if I'd only known!” She rang the bell vigorously. She was just a fraction of a late. The butler answered her ring and announced Young Jim at one and the same time, and the moment he did so Mrs. James looked at me with an expression that said ‘There, I told you so!"’ and waved the but ler away. She couldn't very well let her other guest know that she had been going to deny herself to him, when he had caught her entertaining u But after she had presented Young Jim she kept on mutter ing to me in an undertone that it was a pity —might as well not show the girl now And her faded, shrewd old eyes would fasten first on me and then on the young people sitting side by side on the sofa Young Jim, * yn ill called him, with his dark head and dark eyes and all his vig orous slim cond ; and little Val, her head shining with its nimbus of red gold, her ; dancing, her cheeks pink as a sea second too blue eye shell Old though we felt, we couldn't watch them without our hearts softening and our eyes shining a little too. It was so plainly a case of love at first sight for Jim —and Val was supremely unconscious of what was happening to him, it seemed. She laughed and shone and twinkled and talked of London and her wounded brother, and Young Jim listened as if he were entranced; and when we stood up to go he quite simply said good-by to Mrs. James and went with us as if it was the most natural thing in the world. The last sight I had of the old lady she was sitting up crimes than ever, in her straight-bacl ed chair, and she called after me as I follo wed val from the room, ‘* Tels u later in the evening nack of being as right a ugh not so frequently But f the times when she hit i yawning for half an hour ibered what he had said inded! I loved Young Jir He was simple and manl i 1 } ed and he Wa M Jame part hich I 1 wved for hit r rather, helped him to manage ind | ld t suppre L re itisfactior that he had fall | tel love As for Valentine, the child was made f e, and sl ved it! It was like Galatea ming t e ¢ of the cold marble It did t take at ite » get Mr Jame ( the pt t alt! gi ne na lal quite a aig i cereme 1 belore Vill take a i t ne. ! ‘ Hee! Valt cl e at | | \ te Young J to come here | ep ge i peed | a le it id « i . t out of me al it \ fathe and he e softened he heard ‘A good v she id good and beau ful. I } Mag i ire a la ‘It ! lu I told her it Young : After ne he rigt ive I laughed to stifle a sigh, but I heard in answer was a rt of wratl Chere times whet yu’d et Mr las has » Manners he expresses herseif so oddl ne aid il mat ( tire ed to sa 1 were a fina Ch a good t M4 I vitt Wor t been a failure all right. You tall were eighty. Don’t you know thirty-six Oh, pshaw!” She hung up in disgust, jamming the receiver down on the hook in vicious dl regard for my ear ~ Gn. % Mum is the word! says Ghe Dainty Yoman * % When after active exercise on a warm day tennis, golf, or even walking you would like to feel entirely tres trom the odor of perspiration “Mum” is the word. ’ 1 Or when, at the dance or other gathy ring, you want to fortable assurance that i are entirely tree from body odors Vian ist rd Phink what it means to be always tree from thisembarra toknow iat the delightful sense of personal leanliness the bath imparts wall be ment roughout the layandevet o matter how warm the weather, how waded the gathering, or how actty you ar This assuran is yours by remember that \/ Mu unty now white un, which prevents all body odors it ch perspiration or i fearrar wirh iny fur ( ot thre { Mu will not itat th n norimiure the fir t waist or vow! (set Mu ’ today Sc at stores, us postpa \lso try Amoray, the tale with ad htfal, g fragra that ‘last i illy l Pow ! P Purr it st from us postpa SPECIAL OFFER \ l — SS ce Special Offer "Mum" and “Amoray

Page 64

THE SATURDAY The metal you never see on your table —but which is there f Ben friendly gleam of pol- ished silver greets your din- ner guests. Perhaps in the linings of spoons or cups there is the dull glow of gold. Your percolator is polished nickel. For tea you may use a samovar of copper. Another metal is always on your table—invisible, but ever present, in the delicate finish on your plates, cups, and saucers, This metal is lead, used by mak- ers of fine china in producing the smooth, hard glaze on the sur- face. In your cut glass salad bowl or fruit dish, lead is again invisibly present, for lead is used to give cut glass its brilliance. The hard rubber insulation on your percolator and toaster con- tains lead. Here, perhaps, are uses of lead that are new to you. There are many others; lead enters your daily life in more ways than you might think possible. The elec- tric wires that supply the light above your dining-table are fas- tened together with lead solder, protected by lead fuses, covered with a rubber insulation which has lead as one of its ingredients. The electric-light bulbs contain ¢ and cisce 4} gua we agit Sav* save Cleveland lead, which gives to glass greater heat resistance. Good paiat contains white-lead as its most important ingredient. Tons of metallic lead are corroded every day, to provide the white- lead used by paint manufacturers and painters. Paint protects buildings from deterioration and decay—hence the maxim, heeded everywhere today, ‘Save the surface and you save all.” The more white-lead any paint contains, the greater its protecting power and its du- rability. The lead-and-oil paint which painters prefer for outdoor use is simply pure white-lead, thinned with pure linseed oil. National Lead Company makes white-lead of the highest quality, and sells it, mixed with pure lin- seed oil, under the name and trade-mark of Dutch Boy White-Lead Write our nearest branch office, Department A, for a free copy of our “Wonder Book of Lead,” which interestingly describes the hundred-and-one ways in which lead enters into the daily life of everyone. NATIONAL LEAD COMPANY New York San Francisco St. Louis Cincinnati Chicago Boston Buffalo JOHN T. LEWIS & BROS. CO., Philadelphia NATIONAL LEAD @& OIL CO., Pittsburgh rsa me: _ ee CRT TRESS TT Some Products Made by National Lead Company Dutch Boy White-Lead Dutch Boy Red-Lead Dutch Boy Linseed Oii Dutch Boy Flatting Oil Dutch Boy Babbitt Metals Dutch Boy Solders Lead Plumbing Materials Orange Mineral Lead Washers Litharge Fuse Wire Lead Gaskets Bar Lead Lead Pipe EVENING POST There never has been any reasoning with Mrs. James. Five years ago she asked me brusquely if I was cherishing a broken heart. When my laughter had reassured her she attacked the subject from another angle. Thirty-one, she said, was a sensible age for a man to marry; she knew two charming girls —— Assuring her gravely that I had no de- sire to follow in the footsteps of Brigham Young she swept my levity aside by hand- ing me pictures—the débutantes of the year. “Isn't there one that appeals to you?” she said. But I couldn’t tell her how I felt. Some- times, wistfully, I’d thought I caught sight of a face ina crowd—the face of the sort of girl I might marry; but it had never turned out that way, and now I was afraid of women. What had an old bachelor to do with pretty, audacious girls? I was an- noyed at Mrs. James—matchmaking, med- dling old woman. Why couldn’t she be content to watch the pretty idyl going on before our eyes, as I was? As the days went by the thing became | a byword. All the men were crazy about Valentine, but she seemed to me to have | eyes only for Young Jim. They rode to- gether every morning in the park, and often Young Jim came for breakfast. When we walked abroad he appeared as if by magic on the sidewalk, and when we went to dances or to the theater he was always there too. I used to tease Valentine about it, but she only glowed and laughed, though sometimes her beautiful eyes had a haunted expression. Each night that she had not found Clement she sighed, and each morn- ing was exciting, because it held the pos- sibility of finding him. Briggs reported no results from his many inquiries, even. Val had told Young Jim all about it, and he was as anxious as she. They neither of them doubted that they would find him either. Sometimes it seemed to me that youth is faith—because it has not suf- fered disappointment. And to what fragile threads it fastens its hopes. Summer flew in that year. It was June before we knew it, and one evening in the first week Valentine came into the library before dinner and perched on the arm of my chair. “Uncle Magnus —— waited. I felt a pang go through me. You know what it is to fear something—and suddenly know that you are face to face with it. “Uncle Magnus,”’ said Val again, bury- ing her bright head on my shoulder for a minute, “‘I—I can’t stay here unless I find daddy, you know. I have to go back to Clem.” I wanted to tell her that it was folly but I couldn’t. I could see into her heart too well, and then somehow all the old tenta- cles of family life that I had thrown off came and gathered about me. I knew that Valentine, being herself, could not aban- don her crippled brother Clement or the care of the household, and probably in their quixotic youth the two of them would de- cide that the old home must be kept open for their father. Unless they had proof of his death they’d plan for his return. And Young Jim would have nothing to say to which she would listen. I believed she loved him—but love, in her strange cate- ory, did not come before duty. It had n this idea of duty as an archenemy to all joy and freedom from which I had torn away, and here I was, up against it again. It was hard—hard on me! At last I'd found something—something that made everything else seem small by comparison. Val was sweet and lovely and dear, and— she wasn’t English, not at heart! She’d felt as if she came home, that morning she came to me. And with all her gentle sweet- ness she had a gayety and a happy charm that made her seem a part already of the country I loved. How I'd dwelt on having her near me—an American! One of my own people—some- one who really belonged to me—but free, free, no longer tied down by all their inhi- bitions and worn-out ideas. Not that I don’t admire the British— they’re true blue all ge I'd fight an- other man who spoke disparagingly of them—but I didn’t need to explain to Val what I meant. She knew. Her little sigh told me as she looked out of the window to the fresh summer green of Central Park. Nothing more was said just then, but I carried a heavy heart about with me all evening. she said, and April 29,1922 “Briggs,” I said that night, stopping him as he came to lock the windows for the night, ‘‘ Miss Valentine thinks she must leave us unless she can find her father. I’d give a thousand dollars to find some way to stop her.” “It’s a lot of money, sir,”’ said Briggs respectfully. “Yes,” I said, lapsing into gloom. Briggs went on with his work; he knows better than to interrupt me when I am thinking. Presently I found him standing waiting by the door. “Well?” I said impatiently. “Nothing, sir,” said my servant quietly, “except about Miss Valentine. Isshe—does she really wish to find her father, sir? I'd thought him a bad egg, sir, if you’ll ex- cuse the expression.” “You saved me the trouble of using it,” said I. ‘‘All the same, she wants to find him, naturally. But of course he isn’t here; heprobably jumpedintothe Thames.” “T wouldn’t be so hopeful, Mr. Mag- nus,” said Briggs gravely. ‘“‘ Men have been known to turn up when they’re least ex- pected. Good night, sir.”’ He left the room with the air of perfect solicitude that he adopts as a good night and good morning demeanor. The next morning Young Jim came in and asked if I thought that Valentine would like to dine at the Adamantine Club? “It’s different from anything she'll see anywhere else, isn’t it?”’ he said. “Briggs suggested it in the most deferential way as he took my hat. If you say the word, Uncle Magnus’’—he’d adopted Val’s title for me; it made me wriggle irritably. I was certainly not his uncle—‘“‘I’ll invite Aunt James, as company for you.”” He grinned. I wonder it had not occurred to me about the Adamantine Ciub. I’d been a member for years. Old James put me up before he died, and Young Jim often lived in the place for weeks at a time. It isn’t the most distinguished, but it is certainly the most fashionable club in New York, and it ex- cludes so many persons that it is almost distinguished for that fact alone. But what I wanted Val to see, more than anything, was the clubhouse and the way we Gl evetvthin . Style—they couldn’t excel itin London. I had an idea that if Valentine had to go home she might as well see every- thing possible beforehand. I fell in with Young Jim’s idea with enthusiasm. In days of loveliness I had never seen Val so beautiful as she was that night as we waited for Young Jim to bring Mrs. James to the club. She had on a pink dress. I always love a young woman in pink. Tendrin and I had evolved it be- tween us. It had been my idea to have bird-of-paradise plumes form the soft décol- letage and the curve of the scalloped skirt, and so, although the dress appeared so simple, it really was rather a gorgeous af- fair. It looked as if a rainbow had been caught and twined around a pink cloud. There was a fan that went with it too. Val waved it to and fro as she watched the crowd, always with that half-smiling glance hiding the hint of wistfulness. Once she sighed. I may have been wrong—but I think it was because she hated to think of leaving America. I’d determined to prevent her, but how—how? I gave up thinking and sat and gloated over the child. When Young Jim arrived I saw him half stop as he followed Mrs. James across the room. Valentine was enough that night to give any man pause. We went into the dining room, found our table by the window. Valentine was talk- ing to Mrs. James—they were laughing and looking about the room. It is a beautiful, lofty place, a trifle dark for my taste on any but a summer day, but the oak panel- ing serves only to emphasize the uniforms of the waiters, which are gorgeous enough for a stage setting. The Adamantine Club wanted something different for its attend- ants, and it certainly got it. All that crimson and silver and brilliant blue—with the powdered wigs and silken calves— quite out of place, but gorgeous, all the same. I don’t think anyone else noticed at first, even Young Jim. But I saw Val glance across the room to a particularly splendid specimen wearing the waiter’s uniform, and her eyes widened peculiarly. She looked again, and then bent across the table to me. She spoke very quietly, but with a supreme effort at self-control: “Uncle Magnus, I have seen father. Can you go and take Mrs. James, please? Jim, I am dreadfully sorry to spoil the (Continued on Page 64)

Page 65

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 63 | STYLEPLUS WEEK Look for the big naime in clothes } } Trade Mark Reg. | “i ‘ ‘ ( 404 | q SiF i « ! « i “ p, ‘ Specially displayed at your dealer’s this week—Styleplus Week Copyright 1922 Henry Sonneborn & Co., lac Any way you look at it, these are wonderful values: Turn a Styleplus coat inside out. Examine it down to every fine detail of the linings and trimmings. See how beautifully it is styled and tailored. Then slip the coat on and notice how all this founda- tion work tells in fit and stylish appearance. You can depend on Styleplus Clothes to give you wear. The fabrics are all-wool, in a great variety of attractive shades and patterns. The understructure is made of watershrunk linen, taping and haircloth with the natural body roundness worked in—Styleplus hold their shape. Styleplus values challenge comparison. We can produce Trade Mark Regivtered them because we concentrate a great volume on $25, $30 and $35 grades (a few selections at $40). Every suit guaranteed. Call on your Styleplus dealer this week. Styleplus Clothes offer you Tweeds, Tartan Henry Sonneborn & Co., Inc., Baltimore, Md. Checks, Herringbones, Overplaids—in fact all the new patterns and a wide variety of the plainer fabrics which are always in favor. There are special Styleplus models for young men—others for the older conservative men and special models for tall, short and stout or —_ men.

Page 66

IFLEX Bumpers grace the most distinguished motor cars in America. Notice the better cars as they glide up and down the boulevard; ob- serve the cars parked at exclu- sive hotels and clubs— you will find most of them are equipped with Biflex Bumpers. Thus owners of fine cars not only pay an impressive tribute to the charm and distinction Biflex Bumpers impart to cars, but also indicate their confidence in Bi- flex to protect passengers against injury and cars against damage in traffic collisions. Yet, Biflex Bumpers are within the means of all motorists, and they afford 4 The Aristocrat of Automobile Bumpers Biflex * THE SATURDAY equal distinction and protection to all cars. Biflex, the original broad-faced bumpers, are builtto block bump- ers of all heights; to absorb se- vere shocks. They are made of selected, spring steel, oil-tem- pered. Their strength is propor- tioned to the weight of your car. The fastenings are solid and rattleproof. When your automobile dealer recommends Biflex Bumpers, it is evidence of his confidence and pride in the cars he sells. It also indicates his sincere interest in your welfare and safety. Look for the Biflex trade-mark. See your dealer. If he can’t supply you, write us. Priced from $21 to $28. BIFLEX PRODUCTS CO., Waukegan, IIL. Biflex Bumpers and Brackets are Guaranteed Against Breakage for One Year ONLY THIS MARK GUARANTEES ‘Protection with Distinction’ TRADE MARK THE PRIDE OF ORIGINALITY IS BUILT INTO EACH BIFLEX | eyes. She looked so little. | uncle, Mr. Magnus.” EVENING POST (Continued from Page 62) party, but you see, if father did not find me alone—it is the only chance “st Her voice had a note of terror in it; not for herself; for this poor father. Before I could reply she went on with her speech: “‘He’s—it’s absurd, but he’s a waiter! He won’t mind me, but if he sees you all ——” Her eyes besought; she almost pushed me from my seat. Young Jim grasped the | situation with his usual flashing insight. “Yes, yes, we understand. Of course we'll go. If you want us, telephone! We'll be at the apartment, dear.” She did not notice the ‘‘dear.” It was like a knife in my heart to believe he must have used the word often. The pain persisted as I guided Mrs. James from the room. “Extraordinary!’’ she muttered. I excused it, for I knew that she was hungry and wanted herdinner. Mrs. James has lost, in her sense of appetite, the deli- cate flavor of romance that is the birth- right of every lady. As we reached the entrance I looked back. Val sat alone at the table set for four, and a sudden mist came before my I seemed to see two pictures of her—as she had come to me that first day in her battered velvet hat and ugly tweed suit, and as she was to-night in her foamy pink cloud and birds of paradise. Mrs. James coughed, attracting my at- tention. “A good girl,” she said in a hungry voice. ‘A good girl. And Lord, how beautiful!” Val sat on at the table until the waiter she had recognized came near. Then she signaled him quietly. He came towards her, stooping a little in his gorgeous uni- form, a napkin under his arm, the inter- rogatory expression of the waiter born in his eyes. But there was something else there, too, a remorse that was sadder than grief, a dry-e ed endurance of inexplicable suffering. Val said that the tears rushed to her eyes as she looked at him. How came so much wisdom to be locked up in her heart? That was the marvel as she told me about it. She knew as she met his gaze that he had lost all memory— of her, at least. The words that had been on her lips died away; she clutched the table with her small hands, forcing herself to speak in a gentle, aloof tone. “Waiter, my party have not arrived. I feel a little conspicuous sitting here alone. Won’t you take me to some quiet place where I can telephone—and wait?” “Certainly, madam!” He drew back her chair deftly and es- corted her from the room. The big lobby was almost empty, but she shook her head at his suggestion that she wait there, and he led the way to a small writing room off the main one. She sat down and looked up at him. “T wonder, would you telephone to my ” She paused. ‘ Does that name remind you of anyone?” “No,” he told her; and he drew his hand across his eyes as if to brush away a film. “T think it does,”’ she said quietly, “only you don’t quite remember, do you? What is your name? “‘Clement,”’ he said, and stared at her. Once again he made that gesture, in- finitely weary, infinitely pathetic, of brush- ing away something that had tartalized him. A sob caught in her throat, but she forced it back. “You've been ill, haven’t you?” she asked, seeing how thin he had become. “*Have you any family, any friends here?” He hesitated uneasily, moving from one foot to the other. His eyes were on her face now, and she kept hers on him, watching for a faint spark of recognition. He still stood, but she pointed to the chair facing her, and he dropped into it after an instant of hesitation, leaning back as if he were ineffably weary. And then, as the silence persisted, she had the big idea, the thing that dazzled her as she thought about it. She would tell him the story, the story of himself as she saw it. Perhaps her voice, and the names she would use —— “T used to know someone so like you,” she said. ‘‘His name was Clement, too— Clement Forster. He was a surgeon, and people came to him from all over the world to have him cure them. He was a very clever man indeed, but so often he was tired. He had a brother called Dick, and ason named Toddy, and a daughter ——”’ April 29,1922 She didn’t get any further. He stood up, pushing back the chair and peering at her with eyes grown suddenly keen. The shadow had dropped away as if the sun shone on it; he touched the little hand she held out to him, and suddenly his head dropped down on it and he began to cry. Val fell on her knees beside him, the pink dress billowing all about her, her little face a blur of yearning te pay -rness. “Daddy,” she said, ‘‘I’ve been searching for you everywhere, d: vrlin ." “You are like your mother,” he said, and looked at her gently, a look that turned almost to criticism. ‘‘But your mother was never such a little queen of Sheba!” And so by degrees the real Clement Forster, the father she had known, came back. But he seemed to her stronger, less dependent than she had ever known him. As she talked to him understandingly he picked up the threads with ease. His trained mind could trace readily just what had happened to him, and he told Val that he had gone out that night when he had disappeared to get a breath of air, to forget t a phrase that rang in his memory like a toll ing bell. **Joseph’s coat,”’ it went over and over, “‘Joseph’s coat, Joseph’s coat.” Haunted thus mentally, and yet physi- cally so tired that he found moving agony, he had run through the streets of the West End. A taxicab had appeared suddenly, and he’d hailed it, sinking down on the cushioned seat and saying only ‘ Any- where!”” The man had driven him to the station, and he’d boarded the train for Liverpool in subconscious effort to escape the sounds within his troubled mind. Of all that happened when he had finally reached New York he did not know, nor how he got there. He'd come to the end of the money he carried, and then, passing the Adamantine Club one night, had seen the gorgeous uniforms of the waiters, and to stifle that old refrain had gone in and asked for a job. He said it had rested him at first to do that work, but lately he had begun to be troubled because he could not remember who he was nor why he was there; and he hadn’t dared to tell his fel- low workers that. He shrank from their laughter. “At first,” he said quite simply, ‘“‘I used to see two faces—Dick’s and Toddy’s then gradually they faded. I did not know why I saw them, but I knew they huri. Val—my little girl!”’ “Oh, daddy!” she cried yearningly. Yet as they clung together she knew that he had come back from the shores of forget- fulness with no longer any real need of her. I don’t know, but I think that Clement Forster was glad to drop his enforced rdéle and emerge once more as the distinguished surgeon. He never knew that I had heard the whole story. When he came into the apartment with Val later that evening, wearing ordinary evening clothes, it was in his old easy, rather self-assertive manner. I saw then how wise she had been; he would never have brooked the knowledge that anyone of his own, save Val, had seen him. He had accepted her explanation as quite an ordinary thing. Realizing that he had suffered from an attack of amnesia brought on by strain and repressed remorse, he never spoke of it afterwards, even to Val- entine; he knew enough to be sure of his cure. Inwardly she clung to that idea of hers that he’d worn that gorgeous clothing, done this extraordinary thing—as a pen- ance, even though he hadn’t known it. How right she was I do not know. I’m not a psychologist. The only thing that mattered was that she’d found him. That she should have sensed his feeling did not seem remarkable at all to Clement him- self. I suppose it came from having lived for many years with poor Marie, whom we always looked upon as stupid. “Of course, Uncle Magnus,” Val said to me late that night, when she had seen her father safely to his room and crept out to me in the library, “che was very upset at first. For such a long time he’d suffered because he’d been harsh with poor Dick and--and perhaps hadn't always under- stood Toddy. It is very pathetic, really, when you think of it; not even mother suspected how he felt.” “Pathetic?” I growled. “Leaving you to suffer and drag the Green Pond—never a line, just walking off like that! Oh, I know he couldn’t help it, but—but he ought to have helped it; and now—to look at him— you'd think he owned the earth.” (Continued on Page 67) ae ts a a wer aaa anne a

Page 67

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Around the Clock with 3-in-One Go around the clock with this wise young house- excellent, economical Dustless Dust Cloths wife and see the many, many uses she has for 3-in-One and Polish Mops can be made by permeat in a single day, dinary cloths and common mop See how she uses 3-in-One for lubricating all Thi reat little helper . “household machinery sewing machine, talking 1 pure oil compout : 1 . ’ . ’ . bene machine » vacuum cleaner, even the baby carriage. over-oil with 3-in-O She cleans and polishes her best furniture with becomes rat 3-in-One and makes mirrors and cut glass e — ; Ka 4 — ; oe Sey ~* —— : ‘ shin All the many hou wold ses are described in d beautifully by adding a few drops to the wash water, tail in the Dict ary of ses, packed with eacl With 3-in-One she keeps her gas range always spick tle and mailed fr , and span, nickeled parts shining, enamel lustrous, un- or the coupon at 1 polishe 1 iron “‘velvety black.” By oiling the handles Dictionary. Writ with 3-in-One she knows they'll work easy . : 3-in-One is sold ¢ 3 tores, in l-oz., 3-07. and " Three me « Co Qii Cans. ° If ), dwy New York nD And, wonder of wonders! She has learned li 8-oz. bottles; also in 3-07. Hand THREE-IN-ONE OIL CO. . Broadway, New York City

Page 68

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST April 29, 1922 TAILORED AT FASHION PARI Y VA \ ‘\\y, ATT Wnia NY Wr Bae x th ai > ~~ - = Ds — es KAY=BAC A TRIM-WAISTED, WELL-EXECUTED, AN IMPRESSIVE BUSINESS STYLE, PRACTICAL MODEL WHICH THE FASHION THOROUGHLY DESIRABLE FROM THE PARK TAILOR SHOPS HAVE DEVEL- STANDPOINT OF VALUE. ACCREDITED OPED WITH THEIR CUSTOMARY CARE. AGENTS NOW PRESENT THE KAY-BAC. THE ANNOYANCE Ol! f TRY-ON READY-TO-PUT-ON Roc} ochester, New York

Page 69

(Continued from Page 64 She smiled at me forgivingly. Did she give a faint sigh? ‘Of course you don’t understand daddy. No one really did, ever, except darling mother. I—lI don’t, quite. But I can’t help thinking of how awfully glad he was I found him, Uncle Magnus. He was frightfully tired of wearing Joseph's coat!’’ “I dare say!” I said grimly. I wouldn’t even flash back the tiny twinkle of humor that showed as she fin- ished. I didn’t approve of Clement Fors- ter, and I never shall. I could hardly make myself sorry for him, and yet without Val- entine’s faith what a fate might have been his! Perhaps he’d never have remem- bered; perhaps he’d have lived and died a waiter. Oh! I was sorry for him when I thought of thet; but something troubled me. I couldn't sleep until I had ques- tioned her further, “Your father said I, We were interrupted by a knock. Briggs entered; his manner was so perfect as al- most to be unctuous. He carried a salver in his hand, and before us deposited some cablegram forms. ‘Mr. Jim suggested before he left, Miss Valentine, that you might want to send a message to your brother. Something after this manner, miss?” He indicated a message written in a clear, legible hand. Something dawned on me, that had not previously been reached for my check book. “Something of this kind, Miss Valentine, coming from the hospital in London, would cheer Doctor Forster greatly. Also, there is a boat on Saturday; we might secure transportation.” He waited gravely. long, but it was very clear. understand exactly what to do. reach from his couch, call the hospital, have them send an urgent cable to the clever surgeon asking him to make all haste in returning. Val read it through twice. I saw her lips twitch. Then she bent and signed her name. “That is an excellent idea, Briggs. I-—I think it had better be sent at once, don’t you?” “Yes, miss; very good, miss.” I could have sworn that he strutted, though he hurried from the room. “Unele,”’ said Val, “has it occurred to you—wasn’t it strange that Briggs had dinner all ready for you here when you and Jim and Mrs. James got back? Jim told me he laughed. I—uncle, do you think Jim thought of that cable?” I shook my head, sighing. ‘‘No, honey, I don’t; the message was in Briggs’ own writing.” “And Jim said that he suggested our going to the Adamantine Club. Of course it doesn’t seem possible, uncle, but it al- most—doesn’t it look to you as if he must have known—about daddy?” “He probably did,” said I bitterly. ‘“‘He has undoubtedly already engaged state- rooms on the boat sailing on Saturday, and—and passage for two. My voice grew a trifle husky. I swear I couldn’t help it; when a man is older he wants a pretty young thing of his own close to him. It seemed too bad that Clement Forster should have everything. I worked myself up into quite a state about it. “If he has,” I said, ‘‘he loses that thou- sand dollars, and I swear I'll dismiss him. I want a servant, not a secretary. Briggs is altogether too perfect.” “‘Oh, he hasn’t taken passage for me, has he?” said Val in alarm. “It—it is all right about daddy, of course. I really think he had better go. He fits best in London, I think, don’t you? But I couldn't go, Uncle Magnus, could I? She seemed to be waiting for some thing. “You are going to marry Jim?” I asked. How heavy my heart felt! I could hardly bear the light in her face. “Marry Jim?” Her voice was strange as she repeated my words. She began to laugh. “Oh, no,” she said, shaking her head in the adorable way she had brought over from babyhood; ‘I couldn’t marry Jim. He wouldn’t want me, really; he just thinks he does Why, Jim isn’t old enough; he’s just a ‘boy.’ “‘He’s three years older than you.’ A shadow flitted across her face. “It seems as if you wanted me to marry him,” she remarked resentfully. “No, no!” My words were vehement. She turned from me, but I could see her eyes as she faced me in the mirror. I don’t something clear. The message was Clem would He could THE SATURDAY know just what exclamation fell from my lips. ‘*Mrs. James said I knew nothing about women!” I added, almost as if the words “— forced from me. “‘Mrs. James? Mrs. James? What has she to do ‘with us?”’ Val shot at me; there was something like a flash of fire in the quicksilver voice. At that minute tered again. “The cable has gone, Miss Valentine,” he announced in his best manner. She thanked him, floating from the room silently like a gay butterfly. Something went with her, the doors of paradise shut. What a gray old world! “Damn you!” I roared at Briggs. ‘‘Don’t you know when you aren’t wanted? No, don’t go; now you are here we'll have a little explanation. When did you learn of Doctor Forster’s position in the Ada- mantine Club?” Briggs did not falter. He appeared to meditate, ‘‘I think it was three days after Miss Valentine arrived, sir.” “‘And you kept this knowledge to your- self? You allowed my niece to live in anxiety about her father? You “Well, Mr. Magnus, I kep’ my eye on him, sir; he wouldn’t have escaped me, I assure you. And it isn’t asif Miss Valentine were really your niece; that’s all a pretense, of course. Why, she never even speaks of you as uncle to Jane or me, no more. It didn’t seem to be giving ~ thing time, sir, to find the doctor in three d ays. His eyes had grown almost wistful; he looked at me respectfully Then he drew himself up and resumed his normal manner, standing back for Val to enter. “Tf you please, miss,”’ he said quietly, “T’ve taken passage for the doctor, State- room B—17, on the upper deck.” He seemed to melt from the room. Valentine came towards me quietly, her blue eyes shining through tears. “You see he didn’t take passage for me,” she said. ‘Will you fix it with him? I—I don’t want to ask him myself.” But even then I didn’t understand. I had to turn away from her, I felt so strange. Life had grown so gray. Now at last I knew that I was really old; I’d been play- ing with the idea before. “Yes, I'll ask him,” I said tonelessly, and picked up my pen. That silver voice was eae stg in my ears. ‘Three days until Saturday more.” As if she had taken a sudden resolution she stood up, her eyes brighter than I had ever seen them, the flush in her cheeks a brilliant rose, Over and over in my mind went that phrase of Briggs: ‘“‘It didn’t seem to be giving the thing time, sir, to find the doctor in three days.” What thing? I lifted my eyes to Val, and heard her catch her breath. She came closer, leaning over my shoulder, watching me write. “A thousand dollars,” she said curiously, “for Briggs?’’ She flashed a glance at me. “Payment, little Val, for something he did for me; even perfect servants have their price.” A smile twinkled deep down in the blue | eyes, came gasping to the surface in a half incredulous laugh. She looked at me, puzzled, radiant, the sudden clear joy of love shining through. The lovely, lovely thing! The world rocked about us. I caught her to my breast. Not even to her father did she use the exquisite tone that now carried her thoughts to me. The spring wind floats the breath of violets to the stars in some such melody. “Tt only took three minutes to make you love me, Magnus, and I had three dé ays!”” “T’ve loved you from the first moment only I ‘didn’t understand. Briggs did, the old rascal!” I told her what he said. She smiled up at me, her small face trans- figured. “We'll always keep him, won’t we, Mag- nus dear? He’s almost perfect, I think.” “If [ hadn’t asked you to marry me he’d have given me the idea—before Saturday.” She laughed in gentlest mockery—but I believe it. Then as I looked at my little love I forgot all about Briggs. I kissed her dazzled eyes softly. The frail feathers of the birds of paradise framed the lovely face—the face I had first seen beneath an | old and battered hat. How thankful I am | that she ever had that odd idea about | Joseph’s coat! Briggs tapped and en- three days | EVENING POST Drink it Throu haStraw What’s Your Drink? Choi late Soda Orangeade Lemonade Iced Tea Iced Coffee Milk Ginge 7 Ale Odrsapa nila Note! children with The SEONE. Request your Straws ely E re rf rage , They all taste better through a straw Always use straws at the soda fountain They Safeguard your Health They Protect your Clothing And Cost you Nothing Then, too, their use ind makes cold drin prevents too hasty ks more retreshing USE STONE’S STRAWS AT HOME idd a novel t every home festivit use ‘containing sever tained at school authoritic jor drinking —— yy 9 GENERAL OFFICES - WASHINGTON,D.C. FACTORIES small cost fre MANUFACTURERS WASHINGTON, D.C BALTIMORE yuch of original « A sanitary | il weeks’ supply n m uf drug l t upplry your milk at school Straw (oC »MO.

Page 70

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST April 29, 1922 L.B.Analysis Service 3 Phases of L.B. Service to 125,000 firms L.B. Filing Schools DAY, business is taking a self- surance companies, railroads and inventory of methods. Slipshod thousands of other businesses, large practices get roughshod treatment. one qenatt. Profit-making executives scruti- L. B. Schools of Filing nize profit-draining departments. Untrained personnel can ruin the And they find Library Bureau most aeapene system. Library Bureau has enabled many firms to the one ally able to help them turn Silky competent help through the wasteful files and records into graduates of its several filing profitable business producers, schools. Every phase of the through these special services :— science of filing and record-keeping . , is taught. A recently instituted cor- L. B. Analysis Service respondence course has placed this L. B. Analysts sift out filing con- training within the reach of young ditions in any business and lay full women everywhere. recommendations before execu- tives. Hundreds of organizations These and other phases of L. B. have profited by this service. Service have caused progressive L. B. Indexing Service firms in every industry to turn to Trained L. B. operators shoulder Library Bureau. For whenever the clerical basen ¢ leitioting or any problem in connection with reorganizing file and record sys- . . . tems, irrespective of the size or filing and record-keeping bya nature of the business. Library Library Bureau’s leadership is un- Bureau has thus served banks, in- questioned. Send for booklet, ‘The Newest Force in Business Building’’ Library Bureau Founded 1876 | Plans | Makes }4 Installs | T [Card and filing systems ~ Cabinets ~ Supplies } Boston New York Philadelphia Chicago Albany Cincinnati Erie Louisville Pittsburgh Seranton Dallas, Parker Bros. Atlanta Cleveland Fall River Milwaukee Portland Springfield San Francisco Oakland Baltimore Columbus Hartford Minneapolis Providence Syracuse Portland, Ore. Seattle Birmingham Denver Houston New Orleans Richmond Toledo F. W. Wentworth & Co. Bridgeport Jes Moines Indianapolis Newark St. Louis Washington Los Angeles Buffalo Detroit Kansas City St. Paul Worcester McKee & Wentworth Foreign Offices — London Manchester Birmingham Cardiff Paris Salt Lake City, C. G. Adams The Six Big Divisions of Library Bureau Service 1. Special Service Analysis Service: Trained ex- perts analyze your file and rec- ord needs and furnish full recommendations. Send for foider No. 612. Indexing Service: Pre- pares and writes card records. Transfers accounts from books to card ledgers. Relieves you of the clerical burden of installing new card and filing systems. Send for booklet No. 822. Statistical Service: A unique service to business executives. Prepares confidential statistics from figures supplied by any busi- ness. Send for folder No. 919. 2. Specialized Departments Bank Department Send for booklet No. 805. Government Department Send for booklet No. 818. Insurance Department Send for booklet No. 704. Library Department P Send for catalog No. 812. Schools of Filing Send for booklet No. 503. L. B. Service includes the planning of new systems, special and stock equipment, lay- ing out filing and record departments, the preparation of confidential information. 3. Filing Systems Alphabetic Geographic Numeric Subject L. B. Automatic Index The Russell Index Library Bureau in- stalls the filing system that best suits the needs of any business. Send for book No. 709 or Russell folder. 4. Card Record Systems L. B. Sales record—sales infor- mation at the sales manager’s finger-tips. Send for fol- der No. 615. L. B. Stock record— eliminates over-stocking or under-stocking. Send for folder No. 605. L. B. Card ledger — saves space, time and money, over bound or loose-leaf ledgers. Send for booklet No. 711. L. B. Visible record file—combines unit feature of cards with visible feature of the book index. Send for folder No. 713. 5. Cabinets— Wood and Steel They areused by 125,000 businesses. L. B. quality is standard. L. B. has originated many labor-savingdevices: Vertical units. Card record desks. Counter-hight units. Card ledger trays. Send for catalogs Nos. 707 and 708. L. B. Record Safe. Send for folder No. 712. 6. Supplies . L. B. Cards—Over 7) 2,500,000 a day. More than 1,000 stock forms. Known for their uniform ) quality, accurate size and smooth edges. L. B. Folders include every kind; notably the famous L. B. Reinforced folder which saves valuable space in file drawers. L. B. Guides include plain, printed, cellu- loided, removable label and metal tip. me Send for catalog No. 702. Yd

Page 71

i i animals, she became enthusiastic as a child, and challenged Parrish to a match. “The loser to give the winner a prize,’ he specified. “All right. What shall it be?” “That’s for the loser to decide.” It was his purpose to allow himself to be defeated and to make his vanquishment an excuse for giving her a present. He had been wishing vo give her a present. What it should be he had not determined beyond the fact that it should be something ex- quisite and precious; something worthy of her and of his feeling for her; a piece of jewelry, doubtless; perhaps a linked brace- let of platinum and diamonds such as he had thought of giving Alice for her birth- day—except that for Rita the diamonds must be larger to bear comparison with her other jewels. Not that he had the least thought of overlooking Alice’s birthday. Of course he would get her something: something nice, though less expensive than a diamond bracelet. He simply could not afford two. Rita having emptied the magazine of her rifle and made a not discreditable score, Parrish began to shoot. “I must miss about every other shot,” he said to himself, and he commenced by doing so. Then it struck him that Rita might notice the even balance between the hits and misses; wherefore he began to vary his program, with the result that he lost count of his score. He found it, moreover, curiously difficult deliberately to take false aim. Two or three times he said to him- self, ‘‘I must miss this one,” yet when he fired he would not miss. The targets drew his rifle barrel as the magnetic pole a needle. It was easy enough to miss if you didn’t want to, but difficult to do it by intent. Trying to miss was like trying to lose at cards. To bring oneself to do it- in a competition and against a woman who had never held a gun before—was absurdly difficult. Yet Parrish, as he fired his last shot, believed that he had thrown the match to Rita. “Well, you win,” he said, laying down the little rifle. “Why, no!” “Certainly you do!” The attendant set him right. “You trimmed the lady by three hits,” said he Parrish was surprised. However, it didn’t matter. Really he needed no excuse for giving her the bracelet. **You shot well for a beginner,’’ he said as they proceeded up the Boardwalk. “I'm glad you think so. It’s lots of fun. Now you shall have your prize.” Like a child at a party he was wondering what the prize would be. “Now?’ “Yes. We'll goin here.”” She was head- ing him up a short connecting walk leading to the door of a hotel grillroom. “For the prize?” “Yes. The prize is an ice.” He was a little disappointed. Not that he desired a handsome gift from her—had she proposed such a thing he would have protested, and sincerely—but he wished that she had thought of something more personal and less trivial; something he could keep. This grillroom was one of the gayest dancing places on the ese The half dozen negroes who supplied the music were not playing when they entered and the vacant central space with its surround- ing banks of tables made Parrish think of the sandy bed of some drought-stricken stream. Then the drum rolled and there came a burst of jazz music, whereupon the empty space was inundated, becoming a whirlpool on whose surface dancing figures drifted round and round, bobbing, swaying, spinning this way and that, like flotsam at the mercy of capricious curre oe “Aren’t you going to ask me to dance? demanded Rita presently. The proposal came as a mild shock to Parrish. In his twenties he had enjoyed dancing, and though his interest in it had diminished with his advance into the thir- ties, he had remained a dancing man until, more than a year ago, at the time of Clara Proctor’s protracted visit to Alice, in New York, he had found it expedient to renounce the pastime. In this renunciation Clara had been the determining factor, for there had come to the apartment in her train a following of 9 sleek-haired, facile-footed youths whose en- tire thought and talk was of dancing places, orchestras, tunes and steps; and though Parrish had tried at first to make himself agreeable to Clara and these friends of hers, on Alice’s account, taking the two girls and the young men on several nocturnal jaunts | to realms of jazz, he had soon perceived that Clara and the youths—her troupe of trained seals, she called them—regarded | him as nothing more than a convenience: | someone to provide liquor and a limousine | and settle restaurant checks. Neither|for Alice nor for him did they show the least consideration; once they became ensconced in some noisy half-disreputable dancing place, they were never ready to go home. He did not care for Broadway night life and knew that Alice liked it not at all; each time he took them out he saw her growing fatigued with the din as the night wore on, and, himself tired and bored, would finally suggest that it was time to go, but only to be overruled by Clara and the youths, who under the combined spell of jazz and high- balls seemed to contract a mild hysteria, a dancing frenzy which possessed them like some demon that only the light of dawn could exorcise. After se ve ral of these unsatisfactory ex- periments Parrish ceased to invite them out. But they continued to go, and Clara, who did not wish to be the only woman in the party, was constantly tugging at Alice, endeavoring to persuade her to accompany them on their jaunts about town. This put Alice between two fires. She did not wish to go, and knew that he did not wish her to, yet she sometimes felt obliged to ac- company her visitor. It was when he perceived Clara’s per- sistent selfishness that Parrish put his foot down. Partly to protect Alice from further imposition, partly to protect himself from the continual intrusions of Clara and the youths when he and Alice wished to be alone, he declared his purpose of giving up dancing altogether and asked Alice to Join him in so doing. Of course she agreed; she always did as he asked her to. From that day to this he had not danced; that fact— of course without the details—was his ex- cuse to Rita now. “IT haven't danced for a long time,”’ he told her. “‘Oh, never mind. Come on.” She had alre ady risen. There was noth- ing else for it. Reluctantly he accompa- nied her to the floor. Then all at once reluctance turned into delight; the flow of music caught and wafted them away 23 easily as if they were adrift on a swift stream in a canoe; he might have known that it would be like this! “And you didn’t want to, light reproach. She was all music. Her speaking voice, rich and mellifluous, was like her tread in walking, while her danci ing—ah, it was like a song expressed in motion. “T want to close my eyes,”’ he said. “Do, then. I'll guide.” He let his lids fall, and in that artificial darkness, surcharged with melody and ” said she in movement, experienced an exquisite sensa- | tion as of soaring with her in a perfect oneness through a vast sweet night. “‘Now,”” he murmured, “‘we are far up among the stars. How huge the heavens are! We must hold to each other, Rita, or we may get lost.” His eyes, opening, encountered hers. Not since the night of their first meeting had he looked into them at this close range; now, as then, he gazed like one who seeks to penetrate the depths of some unfathom- able sea, “Are you sorry we danced?” she asked with the shadow of a smile as the music died away. She knew he was not sorry, and he told her so as they moved toward their table. “And yet,” he added, “I don’t want to dance ag: 1in—not now; pe rhaps ne ver again. I want to keep this me mory. She nodded, then suggested ‘Shall we 0?” “Yes, if you’d just as soon. Let’s go out and look up at those stars we were among a little while ago.” But when they first emerged from that brightly lighted place they could not see the stars. Above the glitter of the Board- walk lamps the sky looked black. Not until they had walked halfway to their hotel, accustoming their eyes to this lesser THE SATURDAY EVENING POST RITA COVENTRY Continued from Page 19 For men, women and children —in ciik, lisle and mercerized OL4SEME HOSIERY Comfort! Style No. 1490 fills this requisite pr. cisely. Note the stretch in the toy the elastic rib where the averag stocking usually binds—th« body of finest silk texture. And the price, $1.50, is certainly remarkable value. NOTASEME HOSIERY CO., PHILADELPHIA, PA a ————————————————

Page 72

( ‘ (a »; , oe, i Pattern No. 8040. This shows the possibilities of an old-fashioned stained wooden floor when coveted with a Blabon Rug of genuine linoleum. A Blabon Rug of genuine linoleum g Ol g — not a costly woven rug / For beauty of pattern, richness of coloring and length of wear, a Blabon Rug vies with even eee the fine grades of fabric rugs. Yet a Blabon Rug * you genuine costs so much less! And little care is required —only a light regu- lar going over with a damp cloth keeps a sanitary Blabon Rug clean and bright. It is mothproof and lies flat without fastening. No vacuum clean- Lin sdeum ing, no hard sweeping, no beating is necessary. Blabon Rugs make housework easier. Visit your dealer and see the Blabon Rugs of genuine linoleum in an assortment of sizes in Important Notice: Floor coverings (in a . p ‘ cluding 1uge) made beautiful designs and color combinations. - o> eee For genuine linoleum look for the name o Hh th as lingleum a Se vicletion of the Blabon. If your dealer hasn’t Blabon Rugs ine, Fok paper floor verings bave a ti ack ni * which easily detected upon examin c ing the edge ea write us. The George W. Blabon Co., Philadelphia Established 7 / years RUGS of genuine Linoleum BLABUN THE SATURDAY EVENING POST brilliance, could they discern dim pinpoints of light overhead. “Let’s go out on the balcony,” he sug- gested when they reached Rita’s sitting room. How different now the aspect of the heavens! Half the universe seemed to be spread out before them, the great dome, star-dusted, overhead; and below, stretch- ing away to a mysterious horizon, a sea of blackness on which white lines of surf continually formed and faded. “‘Tt’s our world,” he said when they had stood for a time by the railing looking out at the stupendous spectacle.- “It’s all ours. No one else can look at it without per- mission from us. We'll issue a few tickets; but only to a select group, and they musin’t stand where we can see them; and of course they must be lovers.” His arm stole around her. He leaned and let his cheek touch hers. How cool and sweet it was; how soft her hair against his brow! His arm about her trembled. He turned her toward him, closed his eyes, and with that power of divination that comes in the dark to lovers found her lips. One of her hands was resting on the sleeve of his overcoat, and now he could feel it creeping upward slowly along the collar of his coat and so around his neck. “Tell me you love me, Rita!” She moved her head as though in ac- quiescence. “But tell me! Say it!” She drew away a little. “T love you,” she said. And there she stopped. “A lot?” She did not answer instantly; seemed to be questioning herself; “Yes,”’ she replied, “I think a lot.” “But if you love me a lot,” he asked her, “‘why did you want to qualify at all?” “Only because these things —if Ishouldn’t love you always so much as you wish me to—if it should end—why, then I He did not hear her out. “But it’s not going to end!”’ he cried, drawing her close to him again. “It’s go- ing to grow! It’s going to be the big con- suming thing in both our lives! You'll see! You’ll see!” “That is ——”’ she then, xx E WAS already thinking of Rita when early next morning he awoke. Sun- light was streaming into his open windows with the fresh salt air. His sleep had miraculously refreshed him. He leaped out of bed like a happy boy, and sang to the accompaniment of his running bath water and the metrical click of his razor on the strop. Few people were in the dining room at that early hour, and when, having break- fasted, he passed out to the Boardwalk he was astonished at its emptiness. It was like Wall Street on a Sunday, he reflected; and it occurred to him that there was some- thing as startling in the spectacle of empti- ness where usually there is a crowd as in the spectacle of crowds in unaccustomed places. For a moment he leaned upon the iron railing, watching the surf break on the golden sand and drawing deep breaths of mild, invigorating air. It seemed to him that he had never smelled a breeze so sweet or seen a sun so brilliant. What a pity, he thought, as he walked briskly off, that everyone was not out to enjoy the morning. What a pity that Rita was not up to walk with him. She had told him that eleven was her hour for rising. By half past ten he was back at the hotel, waiting in his room, and promptly at eleven he telephoned to her, His good morning had the sound of a caress. “How did you sieep?”’ he asked. “Splendidly. And you?” He told of his early start, his walk, the glory of the day. “You never saw such a morning. must hurry and get out.’ “But you won't want to walk any more, will you?” *‘Just try me! When will you be ready?” “T’lt hurry all I can.” “Let me come and sit while you have breakfast.” “T’ve had my breakfast.” “Then let me wait in your parlor while you're getting ready.” “The piano tuner’s there. “Oh!” He wanted so much to see her. It was hard to wait. “T'll meet you downstairs in the lobby in an hour.” You April 29,1922 This morning, however, she was not punctual. Five minutes—ten minutes fifteen minutes past the appointed time he sat watching the elevators. There began to return to him dimly, like memories of a nightmare, recollections of other times when he had waited for her thus—in vain. Matters were, however, on a different foot- ing now; there would be no more of that miserable uncertainty; this was the merest little tardiness. Still—what was keeping her? She ought surely to be down by now. He would go to his room and ring her up again. He as- cended, and alighting from the elevator moved down the corridor; but instead of stopping at his own door as he had intended to he continued until he came to hers. As he drew near he heard the muffled sound of a piano, and he was raising his hand to knock at her door when he realized that the music was coming from within. Ah, that then was the cause of the delay! Naturally. The piano tuner having com- pleted his work, Rita was trying out the instrument and, artistlike, had lost all track of time. Without knocking he paused. Save on the night of her dinner party in New York, when she had accompanied herself in Drink to Me Only With Thine Eyes, he had never heard her play, and he was astounded now by the brilliance of her virtuosity. The composition she was playing was not familiar to him. It was a strange air, full of curious melancholy cadences. He stood motionless, listening, until the last notes had been struck. Then he knocked. “Why didn’t you let me know that you were playing?” he said to Rita when she opened the door. ‘I should have loved to sit and listen.” As he took a step toward her she stepped back, raising her hand in warning. A young man was seated upon the piano bench. His back was turned and he did not look around, but it was unmistakably a young back, and there was something youthful, too, in the look of the brown curly hair, thick and short cropped, which stood up upon the head like sculptured hair upon a Greek statue. “Oh!” said Parrish vaguely, the back. “It was Mr.—ah ——” Rita paused, giving the stranger time to announce his name; then, as he neither spoke nor turned his head, but did a light swift run with his left hand, she raised her voice slightly to indicate to him that he was being spoken to, saying, “‘I don’t think you told me your name?” At that the other pivoted slowly. “‘Delaney,”’ he said, looking up at her. “This is Mr. Parrish, Mr. Delaney.” The young man seemed to see Parrish now for the first time. He gave him a nod, making simultaneously a slight throaty sound which the older man interpreted as meaning “‘ How are you? “How do you do?” said Parrish, ad- vancing and holding out his hand. Mean- while he was thinking, ‘‘He doesn’t mean to be rude; he’s shy and awkward.” Thus cornered, Mr. Delaney got up from the piano bench and shook hands hastily, as one who would fain get some- thing over with. Though his hand was not large it was square and strong, but there was a nervous quality in the grip it gave, and in its quick escape. Parrish felt as if his hand had been dropped. The young man’s glance was like his handshake. The light-blue eyes, large, intelligent and slightly prominent, held a vague expression as they encountered Par- rish’s, and they dropped quickly, seeming first to study his scarf and then his watch chain. If Mr. Delaney’s manner was unusual, so was his physiognomy. His was not one of those faces that fall conveniently under some everyday classification; Parrish had never known anyone who looked in the least like him, yet he was perplexed by a paradoxical iodine that the face was fa- miliar. It was a Celtic face, although the strongly modeled features had the kind of regularity we associate with the art of classic Greece—a fact rendered the more striking by the sculptured hair, growing well down upon the forehead. Suddenly Parrish knew why the face had seemed familiar. Mr. Delaney was a prototype of the Hermes of Praxiteles—a slenderer Hermes in a shoddy suit of twentieth- century clothing. Of course! Why, he even had the soft cheek of Hermes and the (Continued on Page 73) looking at

Page 73

a THE SATURDAY EVENING POST This Garland Gas Range is fin ished in full white glistening porcelain ename! as well at semi enamel. It is wiped clean like a china dish. Both the large bak ing and the broiling ovens are ventilated to give that uniform heat for which the Garland is famous. The large cooking top is equipped with the patented Garland heat spreading burner, which saves you 10 in gas con sumption, Garland Gas Ranges are made in every size and finish to fit every kitchen requirement It is both impressive and signifi- cant, that more than 4,000,000 American homes will have no other cooking or heating equipment than Garland. It is reasonable to believe, also, that this overwhelming preference is an acknowledgment that Garland products are better and that they cook and heat better. The fact is that not only in these 4,000,000 American homes, but in 80 per cent of the modern kitchens of all our hotels, restaurants, and institutions as well, Garland ranges are preferred and used. Unquestionably, Garland products are thus preferred because they cook and heat better, and because the features which produce these desirable results are found no- where else—whether the fuel be gas, coal or wood. If you do not know the name of the nearest Garland dealer, or if you have any heating or cooking proklems, write direct to us because there is a Garland heating and cooking device for every purpose. The Michigan Stove Company, Detroit, Michigan Largest Makers of Stoves, Ranges, Furnaces, and Pipeless Furnaces, for Coal, Wood, Gas, and Electricity GARLAND COOKING AND HEATING This illustration is the beautiful Garland Simple Action, three fuel Combination range, which cooks and bakes perfectly with either gas, coal or wood. By sim ply pulling the lever you change from one fuel to the other. Both fuelscan be used at the same time when needed Made in variou sizes and finishes, it is one of our most popular Garland models be cause itassuresawarm kitchenin winter and acoo/oneinsummer.

Page 74

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST April 29,1922 There are more than sixty charming and inexpensive homes in the Long-Bell plan service. This one at the bottom of the page is Long- Bell Plan No. 254. Ask your lumberman. If he hasn’t it write us and we will give you the names of retail lumbermen in your com- munity where you can see Long-Bell plan sheets. LONG-BELL PRODUCTS Southern Pine Lumber and Timbers Creosoted Lumber, Timbers, Posts, Poles, Ties, Piling and Wood Blocks California White Pine Lumber If you admire this cory little home here at 5, DM the top of the page, ask your retail lumber- is . 4 man to show you Long-Bell Plan No. 1277. Y ote { . If he hasn't it, write us and we will give , oe x you the names of retail lumbermen in your e Fan a etait tee n 4s community where you can see Long-Bell : ey ‘e ties ay 4 plan sheets. rahi Ny ¥ sf y Sans ' y \ uUumovetT Up pees | i j 7 g ef ‘ Fd at % r . 2 is the least expensive + hs building material you can buy ; here Wwasa time when it was commonly believed that homes, to be beautiful and modern, must be big and expensive, and that only the well-to-do could afford them. Topay, throughout the land, there are being built small, inexpensive homes of wood that bear every mark of charm, distinction and convenience. For, it has been found that design and arrangement, and not costly materials or huge size, are the real essentials of beauty in home building. NINE ouT oF TEN of these small homes are built of wood, because beauty, coziness and homeyness are best obtainable by building with lumber. AND LUMBER Js the /east expensive building material you can buy today. Keep in mind the importance of good lumber. e permanence of your home depends upon it. To obtain dependable lumber of uniform high quality in all grades ask your lumberman for— LonGc-BeLL arco LUMBER MARKED NG-ReLtL [umber Company BUILDING = Lumbermensince 16875 KANSAS CITY. MO. The R.A. LON Sash and Doors, Standardized Woodwork Gum and Oak Lumber Oak Flooring

Page 75

(Continued from Page 70) look of immortal youth, albeit Parrish judged his age to be twenty-six or twenty- seven. Now, wishing to put the other at his ease, the older man spoke cordially. “That was a lovely thing you were play- ing,” he said. ‘I waited outside the door. What was it?” Delaney thrust his hands deep into his trousers pockets, bent his head forward as though studying his feet, and took a few steps down the room. “You wouldn’t know ‘it,’ “It s part of a concerto.’ “His own, " Rita put in quickly. “You don’t sa The youth hac sii and was now by the piano again. “Play it over, won’t you?” said she. He glanced at her quickly, shaking his head, then looked down at his shoes again. “No. I told you I hadn’t worked it out.” “Why, yes, you have. Certainly that andantino movement is ——” “Not andantino—adagietto,” he cor- rected. Rita smiled. ‘“*There’s very little difference, plied. “I beg your pardon,” returned Mr. Delaney, showing the faintest shadow of a frown and raising his voice to a slightly higher tenor note, “‘but there is every difference. There is exactly the same dif- ference as between andante and adagio.” Parrish looked expectantly at Rita, but she only answered, “‘ Perhaps you're right.” “Certainly I am right. Otherwise, why the term?”’ Then, as she failed to reply, but stood gazing curiously at him, he Said, “Let me show you—in this song,” and slipping down to the piano bench again, began to play. Rita followed him to the piano, and stood behind him, watching his hands closely. “Here,” he said. “‘When I play it this way it’s andantino; but if I do it like this, then it’s adagietto.’’ He looked around at her. ‘‘ You see?” She dismissed the elucidation with a little nod, asking: “Is that yours too?” nad ng a npublished?”’ “Yes. I’ve had nothing published.” “Tt’s a folk song, isn’t it? “An arrangement of Bonnie Doon,”’ said he. “‘The familiar arrangement always ir- ritated me. It’s such a silly jig tune.” To Parrish, Bonnie Doon was one of several folk songs that were sacred. He remembered his mother’s singing it long ago at the old square piano. He did not like to hear it spoken of with disrespect. Moreover he was revising his first impres- sion of Mr. Delaney. “Silly jig tune?”’ he repeated in a tone slightly hostile. “Exactly,” replied the other. ‘“‘It’s all chopped up.”” Then, lifting his light voice in song he cruelly burlesqued the ancient arrangement: * he declared. ” she re- Ye banks and braes o’ boh-honn-nie Doo-hoon, How caa-hann ye bloo-hoom sae fre-hesh and fair —— “You see?” he said over his shoulder. “The music doesn’t fit the words at all.” “For a good many years,” Parrish re- marked dryly, “people have been under an impression that they fitted.” “Well, they don’t,”’ said the other. “That’s only one of many queer impres- sions people have. They’re full of ‘em. Most people think that air was written for Bonnie Doon, but it wasn’t. Not any more than my suit was made for you. It was written for an entirely different song.”’ “Nevertheless,” pursued Parrish, “I contend that there is a delightful quaint- ness about it.’ “Oh,” said the other, “if you’re talking of quaintness fe gave a shrug. “I’m talking about the fitting of music to words.” “Play your arrangement again,” Rita put in quickly. Delaney did so. “Really,” she exclaimed when he had finished, “it’s lovely.”’ She looked, at Parrish, asking, “‘Isn’t it?” “Why, yes,” he said; “but —— ‘And you mean to say,” she went on, “that you haven’t published any of these charming things of yours?” “T’ve sent them around,” ” said he. THE SATURDAY “And nobody would take them?” “Nobody except one fly-by-night firm that wanted me to pay to have them pub- lished.”’ He smiled up at her. “They will take them!” Rita cried. “‘ Maybe—some day,”’ he returned coolly, still smiling up at her, while his hands flut- tered over the keyboard ina light improvisa- tion. “Some day after I’m dead, I guess.” The idea seemed genuinely to amuse him, as if it were a jest not at his own ex- pense, but at the expense of music pub- lishers. His smile was infectious; his face lighted with it, his eyes looked roguish, dimples appeared in his cheeks, and his lips, drawn back, revealed two rows of hard | white teeth. Though the young man had incensed him, and though the smile was | not for him, Parrish found himself almost betrayed into an answering smile. He checked the impulse. Rita, however, burst into a laugh. “If you’re planning to die before they publish your arrangement of Bonnie | Doon,” said she, “ you'll have to hurry up.”’ “What makes you think so?” ‘ Secause it’s going to be published at once! makes you think so? “I’m going to tell them to. That’s why!” “And you think that when you tell them to ——”’ “Right off!’ Plainly she uation, “You just give me the manuscript of that song,” she went on, ‘‘and two or three other things. I'll take them with me. I'll have contractsdrawn. My lawyer will « “There isn’t any manuscript. I’ve never written it.” “Heavens! Make one then.” “All right. I suppose I could do it to- night.” “Not to-night—now.” “‘T haven’t any ruled paper.” Again she laughed. “Oh,” she said, “I'll rule the paper for you. 7 ‘But my job- I’ve got two more pianos to tune to-day.’ “Your job!” she repeated scornfully. “‘Why, it’s ridiculous, with your gift, tun- ing pianos! It’s a crime!”’ In her excite- ment she took him by the shoulder and shook him gently for emphasis. ‘‘Den’t you ever tune another! Do you hear?” “That’s all very well,” he answered, “but I have a family to look after. to get a certain amount of money every week.”’ “Oh,” she said, showing mild surprise, “you're married? Children?” “No! Married? I should say not! It’s | my mother and sister “You don’t look married,” she said. Then dismissing the subject, ‘‘Well, any- way, you're coming to New York right off, and I’m going to - sg “T can’t afford to go to New York.” “You can’t afford not to! Don’t you understand there’s going to be business with music publishers for you to attend to?” As if at the vision of his attending to busine ss she laughed again. “You don't seem to get it through your head,” he declared doggedly, ‘that I have my living Lo make. It’s a matter of dollars and cents.’ He was playing his arrangement of Bonnie Doon again, pianissimo. “Oh,” she cried impatiently, ‘forget those dollars and cents for a minute, won't you? _ “T can’t.” “But that part is easy!’’ There was a note of triumph in her voice. ‘‘The point is that I’m going to sing your songs in con- cert. Do you see? I'll sing your Bonnie Doon at a benefit next week. You'll ac- company me, and when + ‘Not in E major,” he interrupted. Hastily he transposed the song a half tone lower. ‘‘E flat is better for you.” “‘No, it isn’t! Why is it?” There was a sudden crispness in her voice, which Parrish thought boded ill for the young man. But Mr. Delaney was ap- parently unconscious of the menace. ‘Oh, yes,” he insisted in a matter-of-fact tone, “that song in E major would bring out all the worst notes in your upper regis- ter.”” As he spoke he thumped heavily upon three successive keys. Parrish saw Rita clench her fist. There was a moment during which she stared speechless at the youthful back in its wretched belted coat. But though the lightning played for an instant in her eyes Unmoved, he demanded again, “‘ What she answered, amused, | was delighted with the sit- | I have | EVENING POST WINCHESTER RADE MAR TOOLS LES IEEE DESDE SLOSS SESE: For the Motorist NAN you say of the tools in your equipment, the se are good tools? Haven't you felt some time that you would give a lot for a sturdier pair of pliers with a real grip? Haven’t you wanted a screwdriver with a blade that really fitted the screw slot? @. You will find that Winchester Tools really are good tools. You will find improvements which come from the long experience of Winchester mechanics in making the fine tools used in gun manufacture. @. Winchester slip-joint pliers work smoothly and freely. The jaws are’ milled sharp and clean. The stecl 1S heat treated as carefully as a rifle barrel. Winchester hammers, screwdrivers, and other tools are all well made and will give wren he 5, satisfaction. @ There are 4000 stores in the United States which sell Winchester Tools andothernew produc ts. Look for this sign on the window: “The Winchester Store.” ¢. Ask the Winchester Store in your neighborhox rd for a por ket catalog on Wing hester Tools. WINCHESTER REPEATING ARMS CO, NEW HAVEN, CONN. ~ TOOLS + POCKET AND KITCHEN CUTLERY FLASHLIGHTS » GUNS AND AMMUNITION SKATES ‘ FISHING TACKLE

Page 76

The customer sees. through the sight - glass, that the measure is full F Reemear Products For Handling Gasoline and Oile Wherever Sold or Used Filling Station Pumps and Tanks for Gas- olime Portable Tanks for Oil and Gasoline. Storage and Measuring Ourfits for Paint Oils, Kerosene and Lubri- eating Oils. Carload Oil Storage Tanks. Power Pumps. Dry Cleaners’ Under- ground Naphtha Clarifying Systems. Richardson-Phenix Oil Circulating and Fil- tering Systems and Force Feed Lubri- cators. ~ 1’ vite for Bootiets ! p here ~ its a bnew? “And, Charlie, always look for the Bowser Pump. That’s the way to be sure of the greatest gasoline mile- age. You get full measure and the gasoline’s free from water and dirt. P ure, dry gasoline prevents carbon and you know, carbon is the cause of most motor troubles.” “All right, Dad. 4H Bowser Piston-Type § Visible Pump measures gasoline with mechanical pre- It rings a bell for each gallon. The sight glass shows you that the measure is full. Dealers: It will pay you to use a Bowser Piston-Type Visible Pump for gasoline service. Write at once for full information. S. F. Bowser & Co., Inc. Oldest and Largest Manufaciurers of Self-Measuring Pumps Home Plant: Fort Wayne, Indiana Factories and Warehouses: Albany, Sydney, Toronto District Offices: Albany, Atlanta, Chicago, Dallas, Denver, Detroit, Minneapolis, New York, Philadelphia, Pittsburgh, St. Louis, San Francisco, Toronto. Representatives Everywhere. I'll sure do that.” cision. Dallas, San Francisco, Branch Offices, with Service Departments, in Principal Cities Abroad ACCURATE MEASURING PUMPS THE SATURDAY EVENING POST it did not strike. When she spoke her tone was calm. “Oh, you’ve heard me then?” “A cozen times. I worked in New York all last winter. You’re wonderful in Louise.” The little laugh she gave seemed to origi- nate in the region of her solar plexus. “Meaning, I suppose, that I’m not much good in my other réles?”’ At that he turned around and looked at her earnestly. “Oh, I don’t mean that at all! I meant musically. Histrionically, of course, no- body can touch you. Except perhaps in Butterfly.” Rita grinned. “Thank you,” few kind words.” The other stared at her, puzzled. A flush like that of a rosy baby spread over his face. He rose, protesting. “Oh,” he blurted, “I didn’t mean to— I—I didn’t mean ” she said, “‘for these very “Never mind what you meant,’’ said Rita, shaking her head hopelessly. Then moving toward the desk, she ordered, “‘Come over here and write that music.” Parrish, who had been standing by the French windows leading to the now sunlit baleony, turned quickly. “Look here,”’ he said to her, ‘“‘I—if we’re not going to get that walk if M- re going to write this music—there’s no use in my hanging around any longer. I'll just— ah ——” Without finishing, he moved definitely toward the door. Leaving Delaney at the desk Rita crossed and laid a detaining hand upon his arm. “I’m sorry,” she said in a low tone, “‘but—you see?’’ With an expressive jerk of the head she indicated the musician, who was already writing busily. ‘‘ He won't be long. Let’s lunch at half past one—up here. We'll have our walk afterwards.” “All right,”’ he said. But even before she pressed his arm and showed him the smile he was feeling that “‘all right” was not enough. “That will be fine,’’ he added. xxI b fonmne after a second walk, Parrish ascended again to Rita’s sitting room he found Mr. Delaney all but ready to de- part. The young man glanced at him quickly as Rita let him in, then took up his overcoat and made haste to put it on. “Let me help you,” said Parrish with politeness. Stepping behind the young man he lifted at the collar of the overcoat. But the garment did not slip on easily. “Wait a minute,” said the other after a moment’s struggle. ‘‘This sleeve lining is torn.” He withdrew his arm from one sleeve, then carefully reinserted it and maneuvered it through. Having donned the coat he turned up the collar as if that were the natural way to wear it; then drawing a checked cloth cap from a pocket with one hand he reached down with the other and took from the floor a small tan satchel, which, though stamped in imitation of alligator skin, was plainly made of card- board. A muffled clink of tools came from within the bag as he lifted it. “Then it’s all settled,”’ said Rita, giving him her hand. ah He snatched her hand, shook it quickly, dropped it and made for the open door, putting on his cap as he went. “Don’t lose the address,” after him. With one hand upon the outer door knob Delaney paused and turned in the aperture. “T’ve got it safe,” he assured her. Finding himself thus arrested he seemed to have some difficulty in going on again. ‘‘Well, then”’—he said in the tentative tone of one about to depart; but_he still stood there. “Au revoir,” called Rita, with a char- acteristically gay wave of the hand. That seemed to supply the impetus the young man sought. With a quick smile and a jerky little nod he drew the door shut after him. Ne sooner had it closed than there came from the hall without a dull crash as of falling dishes. Then voices. The two looked at each other. “I’m afraid,” said Rita slowly—‘I’m afraid he must have run into the waiter— with our luncheon.” “Of course,” said Parrish with cynical in- = “that’s precisely what he would do.” He took a few steps away from the door as if to indicate his disassociation from any Rita called April 29,1922 disaster in which Mr. Delaney might have become involved. “T’ll go and see,” said Rita, and stepped rapidly toward the door. “Hold on!” he cried, turning sharply. “Don’t!” She stopped. “Why not?” “He'll come back again!” “No, he won’t; and, anyway, if it’s his fault he can’t afford to pay for it.” Parrish gave in. *‘ All right,” he said, moving toward the door. “You stay here. I'll go out and see to it.” Two or three minutes later he came back. “Yes, it was our lunch,” he said in a fatigued tone. “I fixed the waiter. He’s gone down to duplicate the order. Now that Delaney’s gone we may get it.”’ Rita laughed. “Don’t you like him?” she asked mis- chievously. “The young whelp!” he burst out. ‘Why, the way he talked to you—talked down to you! A piano tuner! It was the worst piece of impudence I ever heard in my life!’”” He paced the floor. ‘‘I couldn’t believe my ears. I wanted to kick him! One thing after another! I kept saying to myself, ‘This is alittletoomuch! Nowshe’s going to nail him!’ But you didn’t. You just tookit. Offering to help him, too, after what he’d said!’”” He stopped and stood staring at her. “Think of it!”’ he went on. “You tell him you’ll sing some rotten little song of his; some song he had to write be- cause Bonnie Doon isn’t good enough for him—the same as telling him you'll make him—and what does he say? Does he say thank you? No! He tells you you can’t sing!”’ “Oh, hardly that,’ she said. “Practically that. Telling you what keys you can’t sing in! Telling you you’ve got a lot of bad notes in your upper regis- ter! Yes, and thumping them! Thumping them! Rita, I can’t see why you stood for it. I can’t get it through my head.” She smiled. “He was a dog to do it,” “but it’s true.” “No, it isn’t! And if it were, that would only make it worse. Tell me—just to satisfy my curiosity—how did you ever come to let him get away with it?” She looked thoughtful. “Well,” she said, “‘in the first place he’s gifted; he really knows. And being gifted, he’s queer. One makes allowances. And there’s something horribly — about him, so poor and so talented and “*So rude,” he put in. “Yes, but he’s young she told him, He must be very young. How old do you suppose he is?” “Old enough to know better,’ he an- swered dourly. And he added, ‘‘Those pretty men always look younger than they really are.” “Yes,” good-looking. “Too good-looking,”’ Parrish mumbled as the waiter knocked at the door. “He ought to have been a girl.” But he quickly forgot about Delaney. Never, it seemed to him, had Rita been quite so fascinating as during that lunch- eon. She seasoned the repast with amusing gossip—the story of a dog fight at a re- hearsal, a little fight between two little dogs which rapidly became a big fight be- tween two big prima donnas; stories of intrigue in the struggle for fame; droll tales of temperament, love and jealousy, of pranks played upon one another by the singers, and of misadventures during per- formances, making for Parrish successive pictures of a world new and strange. “T’ve never been behind the scenes at the opera,” he said. “You'd like to? singing. “af “What do you sing Wednesday night?” he asked. ‘Butterfly, but—you’d have to come during the first part of the evening. I have a business engagement later. Wouldn’t you rather come Monday—it’s Manon and stay all evening?” He put his hand over hers upon the table. “What a question, when Monday is five days further off than Wednesday! Be- sides, I love you in Butterfly. You look just like a Toyokuni. I've always wished I could some day see you in those cos- tumes, close to.” “All right,” she said. ‘“‘Come a little before eight. I'll leave word with the door man.” (Continued on Page 77) she agreed reflectively, “‘he is Come any time I’m

Page 77

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST

ee e 2 oe bat" GEE. Siete des “TN Make Old Furniture Look New— Use Valspar Enamels

ORCH furniture finished with Valspar En- Porch furniture needs a durable, lasting amels can be freely washed—can be left out finish. Don’t waste time with inferior enamels. in sun and rain without losing color or lustre. Valspar- Knamel, wherever used, including Valspar Enamels are fine pigments carefully automobiles, stavvs bright and stays bright. ground in durable, waterproof Valspar—the : Valspar Enamels are made in 12 beautiful varnish that won’t turn white. lasting colors, also in Black, White, Bronze, You will find Valspar Enamels easy to use. Aluminum, Gold, and Flat Black. Send for They work freely under the brush, dry dust- complete color chart. For sample can, use free in two hours and hard in twenty-four. coupon below. VALENTINE & COMPANY Largest Manufacturers of High Grade Varnishes in the World — Established 1 New York Chicago Boston Toronto London Paris Amsterdam W. P. Futter & Co., Pacific Coast This Coupon is worth 20 to GO cents VALENTINE & COMPANY, 456 Fourth Ave., New York le ‘ lealer’s na ind stamps, amour

VALENTINE’S

t ar tor hecked a geen eS ae ae <) ee Enamel psi ne ie State Color Dealer's Name Valspar Valspar Stain pomary Anes State Color

The famous Valspar boiling water test ENAMEL

Page 78

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST LULL | | The motor is the heart of a good automobile. But the soul of a car finds expression through the spirit of the men who make it. The heart of this remarkable car is a new, distinctive and exclusive Jordan motor of a thoroughly modern, light, high-speed type. Engineers have long been bafHed in the effort to build a motor that combines silence with what we love to call a ‘ When they built for silence the power was not there. ‘punch’’. This Jordan motor has what the small boy would call a ‘‘wallop’’—a silent, thrilling something that makes the old driver turn and grin. Call It Pep—Punch—Performance Call it pep—punch—performance. You will enjoy its snap and go—the solid, sturdy feeling of the car—no wabbling on the road. Designed in every detail and built from the owner’s point of view, this new Jordan is produced for those who want a motor car of lasting value that will run 200,000 miles and, with friendly care, last ten years, Light as the needs of the hour demand, it gives that dependable, day-after-day per- formance which reveals true value. Drive this new Jordan yourself and know the thrill of true motoring joy. April 29, 1922 Sunday morning in a quaint Virginia town. Mellowed by time and fragrant ith great deeds. Spring coming up the world—church bells recalling ro- mances of three hundred years ago. Then at the lilac close of a soft, spring day the wondrous round of the moon on the hill, That's Williamsburg in May.

Page 79

i | i { if (Continued from Page 74) She rose, passed behind him and laid her hands upon his shoulders. “My dear,” she said, “‘I’m awfully dis- appointed about something. Like a cow- ard I’ve been putting off telling you. I must go back this afternoon.” He turned quickly in his chair and looked up at her, echoing stupidly: “This afternoon?” “Yes. They got me on the long-distance while you were out. Isn’t it disgusting? It’s that idiot Bonata. You remember, I told you about her? She’s such a slow study. It’s outrageous that they kee *p her.’ “But why do you have to go back?” he demanded, rising. “‘Tt’s the new opera—goes on a week from Monday. I have several scenes with her. They’ve called a rehearsal for ten o’clock to-morrow morning.” “Oh, Rita!” “T tried to get them to postpone it,’”’ she went on, “‘but they couldn’t. I saw that myself when they explained.”’ She looked disconsolate. ‘But there’s no need for you to come if i “Don’t be ridiculous!” he cried. “You know perfectly well I couldn’t stand it here!” “Then,” she answered, sighing, “‘there’s nothing to do but pack and order the car. Turning away from her he walked with a slow step to the French windows and looked out upon the balcony and the wide sea beyond as if to bid them farewell. Then he faced her. “Well,” he said, ‘‘they can’t take that away from us, anyhow!”’ (TO BE CONTINUED TROPICAL GROWTH (Continued from Page 9) that their auctions were bona fide, that they were legitimate and sound, that they were without reserve, that they were absolute. ** Absolute auctions’’ was the watchword of the hour. This was what had been happening: Real-estate firms had advertised auctions, put up lots for sale, and, when those in attendance languidly refused to bid more than six or seven dollars for a lot, used pro- fessional buyers to make phony bids in order either to run up the price or get the lots off the market. It is possible that such a thing will never happen again, now that real-estate firms have the habit of adver- tising absolute auctions—possible, but searcely probable. With five or six auctions being held each day, and with large num- bers of lots being offered to stolid Middle Westerners who have come more for the free lunch and the automobile ride than for the real estate, it is inevitable that some lots will go for about $1.75 if everything is left in the hands of the legitimate prospects. Common sense tells us that no real-estate dealer could stand such a blow without emitting poignant shrieks of pain, no matter how persuasively and convincingly he may chatter about absolute auctions. Some of the real-estate dealers allow cus- tomers to buy land on terms that would at- tract even Trotzky, who doesn’t believe in that sort of thing. Four-hundred-dollar lots in one subdivision can be had for twenty dollars cash and ten dollars a month, with no interest or taxes for a year. In another subdivision $1250 lots sell for $100 cash and twenty-five dollars a month until 20 per cent of the principal has been paid, after which the buyer can sink back and refrain from paying any more on his principal for seven and a half years. A irm advertises island water-front lots at $5750 a lot, the terms being ‘‘$750 cash; balance $500 every six months; no inte rest first year; no taxes till spring 1925.’ Blots on the Landscape Subdivisions extend out of Miami in all directions—up the coast and down the coast and inland and out into the bay in the shape of islands. Palm Beach isseventy- five miles north of Miami; and there are almost enough subdivisions along that seventy-five-mile stretch to provide homes for a million people. Some of the subdivisions are beautiful. Some have been thoroughly cleared of the tangled jungle of palmettos and other scrub that make a total mess of so much un- developed Florida land; and flawless roads and pavements have been constructed, water mains put in, and gas, water and elec- tricity provided. Restrictions are imposed in some of the good ones; homes costing less than $4000 cannot be built on certain lots, while on other lots they must cost at least $15,000. In other subdivisions the streets are half laid, the location is vile, and the shacks that are run up on the crowded lots are little bet- ter than the marsh huts of Revere Beach and Coney Island, to which poverty-stricken city dwellers of Boston and New York fre- quently re paired during the heated terms of the early ’80’s. On top of these depressing spectacles, many of which may some day be partially obscured in tropical verdure, certain enter- prising citizens of Miami have added to Florida’s scenic beauties by lining the roadsides with blatant signboards setting forth the delights of garages, restaurants, clothing emporia and similar enterprises. Not content with building self-sustaining signboards which protrude gauntly and repulsively from the flat landscape and convince the newcomer that he is approach- ing a slum city, they have nailed countless numbers of huge sdlew monstrosities to the palms and pine trees along the high- ways—signs which have no influence on anyone except the lover of beauty, and which serve only to fill him with contempt for people who can.permit the naturai beauties of their surroundings to be so be- fouled. In the North one expects to find as he does find—a plague of signboards and hideous summer resorts whose pre- dominant features are those of the awful and tasteless ’80’s. In the new South, how- ever, which lures tourists with honeyed words and promises of every sort of beauty, the erecting of roadside signboards should be viewed with as much disgust and loath- ing as grapefruit stealing or murder—both of which crimes fall under somewhat the same head in Miami. Sensitive Tomato Plants Spreading through and beyond the sub- divisions are the orange and grapefruit groves and the truck gardens and vege- table farms. Oranges and grapefruit are so common in Southern Florida that grape- THE SATURDAY fruit are served free in many of the hotels, | while many other hotels keep large bowls of | free oranges alongside the ice-water tank. So far as is known, these are the only things that one has a chance of getting for nothing | in Florida hotels. There are hundreds of three-acre and | five-acre farms owned by Northerners who didn’t like winter and ran away from it with one or two thousand dollars in their pockets. Many of these little farmers not only manage to make both ends meet but even salt away comfortable bank rolls. One little town near Miami shipped 61,000 quarts of strawberries to Northern cities during the first six weeks of the 1922 sea- son, and the growers’ share of the spoils was fifty cents a quart. The wise straw- berry farmers, who plant their land to vel- vet beans during the summer and plow them under in September, and otherwise indulge in the clever tricks of the trade, get some very snappy results. One of the best strawberry farmers near Miami had 4.1 acres of land planted to strawberries in 1921. His first berries came in on De- cember twentieth, and he picked twice a week until July fifteenth. The total yield of his 4.1 acres was 41,059 quarts, his aver- age price for each quart was forty-five cents, and his gross sales amounted to slightly under $18,500. were a little over $6000. More than 14,000 acres are planted to tomatoes in the vicinity of Miami, and nearly 500,000 crates were shipped North during the 1921 season. These tomatoes bring the growers about three dollars a crate, of which about $1.75 must be charged off to fertilizer, labor, hauling and crating. The life of a tomato farmer is not a happy one, for the crop is very sensitive to wet weather. It is also very sensitive to dry weather. The slightest nip of frost also puts a severe crimp in it. Some of the to- mato farmers say that the plant is so sensi- tive that if a man cusses or chews tobacco in its vicinity it will refuse to bear. In spite of all this, there are plenty of tomato His total expenses | Actual Size $1 for each tire many experiments this Lock has added over 2000 miles to the life of You'll never buy 2000 miles cheaper in any tire the tire EVENING POST No Air Lost! 2000 more miles can be added to each tire, if kept properly inflated HE old fashioned tire valve, which is in such common use, is one of the things motorists have become used to, simply because they have never had anything better. Do you realize how much time you waste going through the routine of pumping your tires once a week—not to mention the dirt and grease—waiting your turn— washing up—and all the rest? This remarkable new invention, the Trex Air Valve Lock, now positively locks the air in your tire, stops all leakage and maintains perfect inflation. It elimi nates all the troubles of repumping. For years under-inflation has caused untold damage to tires, bringing them to an untimely end, in spite of the intention of the motorist to keep his tires at normal pressure. The Trex Air Valve Lock means full mileage from every tire, and with no cares or burdens whatever on the car owner. It pays for itself many times over. Road tests as well as laboratory tests have proved that the Trex Air Valve Lock positively locks the air inthe tire. Fits any tire, and is interchangeable. Screws onto top of present valve stem. Outlasts several sets of tires. All metal; no rubber parts to rot or deteriorate Carried by the leading established jobbers and dealers in all parts of the country. You can readily recognize our attractive orange and black display boxes, each holding five Locks, suitable for the four tires and spare tire on one motor car. Sold singly if you desire. Get a set for your car today. Ask your own garage man, or write tous. Absolutely guaranteed against defective workmanship or materials, as are all Trex Products THE TREXLER COMPANY, Philadelphia, Pa. Manufacturers of the famous Trex Tire Tool and other high-grade automotive products Factories: WILMINGTON, DELAWARE TREA TRADE MARK REG. U.S. PAT. OFF. i AIR VALVE LOCK 1. Positively locks the air in your tires; adds = more mileage through perfect inflation. 2. Eliminates trouble of repumping, and pre- mature blow outs due to rim cuts. 3. Fits any tire; any motorist can attach in three minutes.

Page 80

THasiTOHVOnOT TTUTUOITUTTTUEDUODTN FUND UOVTRUT OVEN POG HT nce Hd DORN he selection and cutting of the sole leather for Beacon Shoes is performed with consummate care; which is characteristic of every step in the production of this nationally known footwear. Your Ideal of Footwear Just before you yo to purchase new footwear you quite likely form a well-defined idea of style, of quality and of price. More properly your idea should be termed an ideal. For you do want good style, and accurate fit, and faithful service. And you do not want your shoes to cost too much to buy, nor ft wear©, In Beacon Shoes you will find that ideal. For example: At $6 your Beacon dealer will show you admirable footwear, smartly fashioned and substantially built; footwear that you will take pride in wearing. We are as Proud of the Prices as we are of the Shoes! We are proud of our ability to build for you intelligently designed; sturdy, comfortable shoes that you may purchase with- out a feeling that you have been extravagant. We are equally proud that we can stamp the Beacon trademark on shoes of that character. BE a\, | iF =a ‘ THERE ARE NO BETTER my jz ) FOR FIT? FOR STYLE + FOR WEAR F. M. Hoyt SHOE Co., Makers MANCHESTER, NEW HAMPSHIRE The Beacon Spring Price Range: $5 to $8 Swag Last Square Throat Bal. Oxford Made in Gun Metal, Morvcco and Chippendale Russia THE SATURDAY EVENING POST | choicest | every minute. | lovers to plant tomatoes every winter, and some of them have made fortunes out of this popular fruit—or vegetable. The cupidity of farmers who are sick of Northern winters is easily aroused by prices obtained for the best varieties of mangoes. “Their rich, spicy flavor, tempting fra- grance and beautiful coloring,’’ say the Miami prospectuses, “make them one of the most tempting table desserts that can be imagined.”” Miami, it appears, has a monopoly on this fruit, and the catalogues rub in the bad news by adding that ‘this monopoly is not only confined to the culti- vation but also to the exquisite joy of eat- ing it, as very few find their way to the Northern markets, the local demand far exceeding the supply.”” One reads that the varieties ‘“‘readily seil in the Northern markets for from $1.00 to $1.50 each,”’ thus confirming the belief of the late P. T. Barnum that there was one born The weak spot in this argu- ment is not visible at the moment; but there is some good reason why the Florida people prefer the exquisite joy of eating the mango to the even more exquisite joy of shaking down their Northern brothers for $1.50 per mango. Maybe it’s because there aren’t enough raised in Florida to make it worth while toship; maybe it’s because the | mango ripens from June through August and the weather is too warm to ship. At any rate, there is an Ethiopian concealed somewhere in the woodpile. And one who aspires to become a mango grower will no doubt have his first fine enthusiasm dashed by the fact that trees begin bearing in from five to seven years after being set out. Seven years is a long time to wait. And Northerners may acquire a little sense in seven years and refuse to pay $1.50 for the exquisite joy of eating one mango about the size and general texture of a peach. Reclaiming the Everglades Off to the west of Miami lie the Ever- glades, first made famous by the Seminole War, when the United States Army spent upwards of fifteen years trying to chase the Seminoles out of the Everglades, but sel dom saw more than three Seminoles at one time. The Everglades, not so long ago, was an enormous shallow lake 8000 square miles in area, dotted with half submerged islands out of which grew giant whiskered live oaks and countless varieties of tropical plants. The alligator basked in its shad- | owed streams and the graceful panther lurked among the undergrowth, constantly ready to emit a blood-curdling scream cal- | culated to make the hardiest intruder think | brows longingly of home and mother. Explora- tion was made almost impossible by a saw- toothed grass which grew throughout the Everglades and extended several feet above the water, so that the person who tried to force his Way through it would cut every- thing to shreds up to and including his eye- People talked for years of draining the Everglades; but such talk was usually received with screams of laughter that rivaled the yells of the Everglades panthers Several years ago the state of F lorida settled down in earnest to the systematic draining of the Everglades. Canals were cut, giant locks were installed to control the water level, and the land was cleared Thousands of acres are being reclaimed | each year, settlers are moving in constantly and the reclaimed land is yielding vege- tables and fruits of a size and quality to make a Maine farmer shake his head dubi- ously and wonder whether that last batch of licker that the sheriff sent him had af- fected his eyes. The soil is a rich black muck which has resulted from centuries of decaying vegetation; and anything that will grow will grow about twice as large and twice as rapidly in the Everglades as it will anywhere else. There used to be only two seasons in the Everglades—wet and wetter; but now there is a dry season; and in the course of a few years, when the fruit trees begin to bear, the Everglades alone will be in a position to supply every city in the North throughout the winter with all the newfangled and oldfangled fruits and vegetzbles that can be desired. The thousands of farmers who have re- tired from active farming and are occupying their winters by absorbing the sun in Miami and pitching horseshoes in Royal Palm ark become fearfully excited over the various varieties of grass that are raised in the Everglade lands. Grass is not a thing that one would expect to mention at any length in an article on a winter resort; but the excessive wonderment over it on the April 29,1922 part of the horseshoe pitchers requires some mention of grass. It appears that some of the grasses that have come in thick enough to get themselves talked about are Para, Bermuda, Rhodes, Natal, Sudan, St. Lucia, St. Augustine, Napier, broom-sedge, Guat- emala, panicum, crab grass, maiden cane, billion dollar grass and several others. There seems to be everything but just plain grass. The chief idea in the minds of the farmers seems to be that with all this grass the Florida stock raisers can have ever- green pasturage, and cattle can be fed on about a third of the space that they need in the North. This of course is important if true; but the average person who comes to Miami is not interested in grass except as something on which to play golf or sit. What he wants is usually holiday relaxation and plenty of it; and if that’s what he wants he can get so much of it in and near Miami that one week of complete relaxation must usually be followed by two weeks of re- cuperation. The Rise of Miami The people who knew Miami prior to 1918 have an entirely different place in their minds from the Miami of to-day. The old Miami was a city first and a winter re- sort afterward. This statement will of course offend the touchy Miami folk; but it is true none the less. It was—and is—a hustling, bustling, booming, noisy city with about one automobile for each seven- eighths of an inhabitant, and with per- petual warmth and sunshine. In the long the run, however, the big-money tourists people who roll down each winter with their money done up in bales and beg plaintively to be shown where and how to spend it —don’t want to go to a hustling, bustling, rapidly growing city for their winter holidays, even though the city may boast perpetual warmth and sunshine What they want is plenty of sun and sky, and a complete change from the scenery to which they are accustomed in their Northern cities, and a surcease from all noises except the noises they make them- selves -which are frequently much louder than the ordinary noises of a city. For that reason Palm Beach was in a ¢lass by itself. The big-money tourists went to Palm Beach. Miami got a smattering of them, but a very small smattering. Palm Beach sneered at Miami Beach and called it the Coney Island of Florida. That, how- ever, was prior to 1918. To-day Mi: imi has been augmented by Miami Be The story | of Miami Beac ¥ Ss a remark- able one, and it should be told here, since without it Miami would scarcely be able to get out gaudy prospectuses with pictures of beautifully shaped ladies in red one- piece bathing suits on the covers. This is the way of it: Miami's palm-shaded streets run down res of Biscayne Bay, which is a vater some seven miles long and en two and three miles wide. Be- tween the bay and the ocean is a long, narrow tongue of land, not much over a mile in width at its widest point. Prior to 1913 this narrow tongue of land was a worthless jungle. The man who owned practically all the land on it is said to have bought it for $12,000. The only way of reaching it was by ferryboat, and there was nothing on it except a bathing shack on the beach at the extreme tip, to which a few tourists occasionally repaired when the urge for sea bathing became almost too intense to be endured. In 1913, however, when the population of Miami was only about 7500, a wealthy Indianapolis business man, Carl Fisher, came to Miami for his he: ith. Fisher was aide to see the possibilities in things which everyo? : » else regarded as impossibilities. He had always plunged heavily on his be- liefs whi le his friends and acquaintances stood on the sidelines and told one an- other what a shame it was that Carl had gone bugs. One of his plunges had been the big Indianapolis Speedway—a gigantic structure which does all its business, pays its expenses and makes its profits on one day out of the year. In Miami he became interested in the long, narrow, jung .m -grown sand spit that shut Miami off from the sea. In his fever- ish mind’s eye he saw it covered with the greatest winter resort of modern times with acres of beautiful homes, and hotels bowered in towering palms and scarlet- flowered hibiscus; with polo fields and golf (Continued on Page 80

Page 81

| THE SATURDAY EVENING POST \ Now Ready! e ze Goodrich OS Sal TheNEW30*3% CLINCHER FABRIC TIRE HERE is a real tire of real quality, at a price most remarkably low. It has everything that you demand— construction, appearance, long life, low price. It’s a GOODRICH — Great Value! Made with all the skill of Goodrich, of high-grade quality throughout and perfected with its scientifically constructed, anti-skid tread of thick, tough, specially compounded rubber. Ask your dealer to show you this remarkable tire. Remember the name—Goodrich “55.” Also made in 30 x 3 size. THE B. F. GOODRICH RUBBER COMPANY Akron, Ohio HOME Ol THE SILVERTOWN CORD ee eset Coodrich"5 + dhe TIRE for Small Cars sr ee Weir receipe AT on re ET ee arte

Page 82

THE SATURDAY She ran all the way to the station and got there ten minutes too soon: LL the needless rush to get ready—the panting race down the street—a trip to the city started wrong because the clock was ten minutes fast! Surely modern life is tiring enough without the need- less strain of faulty clocks. And it is so needless. A hun- dred and nine years ago Seth Thomas began making accurate clocks and putting his name on the dials. It will add immensely to your peace of mind to have a Seth Thomas Clock in your home; and the cost, as the Jeweler will tell you, is very much less than you may : have supposed. He likes to show Seth Thomas Clocks and tell about their service. Why not drop into his store this morning and afford him that pleasure ? At the lett is one of There are eight small clocks, a group ot eight rm suited to desk or boudoir, in the group represented by the model Jeweled 8-day movement with watch escape a splendid timekeeper in a hand-rubbed case of solid ma- hogany. $23 to markably serviceable upright models —8 illustrated below. day, striking € loc ks nm mahogany cases. Prices from $15 to $22 ment A Seth Thomas gift is assured a place of honor in any he mie. ETH THOMAS ETH THOMAS EVENING POST (Continued from Page 78) links and tennis courts and ice rinks; with agoons and canals and artificial islands and Venetian gondolas; with casinos and bathhouses and outdoor swimming pools that would outdo anything in America or | Europe. He let himself go with the utmost enthu- siasm, and kept his imagination working on a twenty-two-hour day. His friends gave up all hope for him. ‘Poor Fisher!” they | murmured privately behind his back. “Poor Fisher has gone completely loco. We must make arrangements to put him away quietly.” He got control of the bulk of the un- | named worthless tongue of land and went out to look it over carefully. Around its shores he found a solid wall of mangroves, whose interlaced roots rose several feet out of the water in such a confused and slimy jumble that any appreciable progress through them was a matter of hours. So he got a gang of twelve negroes and set | them to work hacking a hole all the way | through this jungle. Beyond the mangrove swamp was a solidly interlaced growth of cabbage palms and palmettos through which no human being could force a pas- | sage without tearing his clothes and his skin to shreds. The palm and palmetto growth filled every part of the tongue ex- cept the email the shores were over- grown with mangroves. Greatly cheered and stimulated by these obstacles, he promptly set to work on his scheme to build, almost overnight, a great American winter resort. Starting at the extreme tip of the tongue his gangs of la- borers cleared off the mangroves, cabbage palms, palmettos and other scrub. They found bears in it, and panthers and count- less numbers of smaller animals, and quail by the thousands. Then along the edges of the tongue they built high cement bulk- heads. As the bulkheads were finished | dredgers pumped sand and water out of Biscayne Bay and inside the bulkheads. The water ran off, but the sand remained and turned the swamps and marshes into solid land. This work required dredging crews of 150 men, three pumping boats, two digging boats, from ten to fifteen barges, five supply boats, two oil tugs, two anchor boats and an eighteen-inch pipe line over a mile in length. For eight months the pay roll was $4000 a day, and Fisher’s friends daily became more in- sistent that he be put away where he could no longer throw his money into the Atlantic Ocean. An Extraordinary Development Canals and inland waterways were dug so that future residents might have easy access to all portions of the resort by acht, house boat and motor boat. Palms, hibiset “us and tropical plants and vines slowly crept along in the rear of the dredging operations. Fifty acres were turned into polo fields. Three hundred and twenty-five acres were set aside for golf courses. Three excellent golf courses were made, two at a cost of $200,000 apiece, and one at a cost of a quarter million. To-day the tongue of land that was an impenetrable jungle in 1913 and a waste of sand in 1917 has become the city of Miami Beach. Its value has grown from $12,000 to $20,000,000. There may be some to question the latter figure; but the assessed value of Miami Beach property in 1921 was $5,540,112; and unimproved property was being assessed at one-quarter its valuation, while improved property was being assessed at one-tenth its valuation. It has a front- age of six miles on the ocean, seven miles on Biscayne Bay, and sixteen miles on inland waterways and canals—though a Miami Beach enthusiast would no more think of listing Miami Beach property in miles than a jeweler would think of listing diamonds in quarts. It’s too precious. He lists it in feet, and tells you that the front- age on inland waterways is 85,000 feet. In a few years, if he progresses in the future as he has in the past, he'll probably be listing it in inches. Many a water-front lot has been sold for double the price that was paid for the original jungle not so many years ago. here are over forty miles of streets and roads, lined with palms and shrubs. Sev- | eral hotels have been built. The largest is | no more > emt than the big Palm Beach hotels—although that is sufficiently expen- sive to send the cold shivers up and down the spine of the person who hasn't become | thoroughly hardened to money spending. April 29,1922 There are a score and more of apartment houses, and 350 private residences ranging from unconsciously simple little $10,000 bungalows up to artfully simple little $200,000 huts. Within another six years, according to the more sane and conservative Miami Beach predicters, there will be six or seven more hotels at Miami Beach, all larger than the present ones. Fisher has another modest caravansary planned, which is to have an ice rink, covered tennis courts and a tanbark horse-show inclosure on the roof. Unless his friends lock him up he is sure to carry out his plans—which will probably be as highly successful as his past ventures. A few of his friends no longer fear for his sanity. His or business partner in Indianapolis, James A. Allison, has even helped the good work along by building and stocking at Miami Beach an aquarium that rivals the greatest aquariums of Monaco, Naples, Honolulu and Manila. A great many of his friends, however, still shake their heads pityingly when they hear men- tion of hotels with ice rinks on the roof. The dredging operations which had transferred sand from the bottom of Bis- cayne Bay to the top of Miami Beach had left several unsightly mud banks protrud- ing a few inches from the surface of the bay. Fisher surrounded these mud banks with bulkheads and pumped more mud into them. The result was seven beautiful islands, most of which are already shaded by palm groves and dotted with simple but beautiful homes costing about thirty dol- lars a square inch. They are easy of access, since they are connected with the mainland or the causeway. Bathing-Suit Notes Some Miami people have likened these islands to lilies which o’erlace the sea, after the fashion of Senator Lodge quoting from Browning in an attempt to explain the islands of the Pacific to a concourse of hard- boiled hearers; but Palm Beach folk, with that peculiar jealousy evinced by the resi- dents of one Florida resort toward every- thing in a rival Florida resort, say that they look more like floating flapjacks. The truth, of course, lies between; and in an- other two years, when all of them are covered with masses of tropical foliage, there will be nothing flapjackish about them at all. One of the islands, together with an obelisk rising from its center, was constructed solely as a memorial to Henry M. Flagler, without whose vision and fore- sight Florida would probably be known only as the place that Florida Water was named after. One of the largest islands has an area of sixty acres. A mile of bulk- head, with bulkheading at twelve dollars a foot, was necessary in its construction, and its total cost was half a million dollars. The inability of 90 per cent of the human race to see how a thing is going to look when finished has cost the human race a large amount of money at Miami Beach. Not long ago, for example, an effort was made to sell a new house for $16,000. It stood on new flat land, however, and there were no trees or shrubs around it. Every- body who saw it refused to buy it; $3500 was spent in planting grass, palms and flowers and adding walks and a boat- house. When this had been done the house sold instantly for $30,000 to one of the men who had refused to pay $16,000 for it the preceding year. Miami and Miami Beach are now con- nected by a curving concrete causeway three and a half miles long. New and spacious as it is, it is often too small to accommodate the thousands of automobiles that hasten out to Miami Beach on hot Sunday afternoons in midwinter in order that their occupants may obtain an eyeful, as the saying goes, of the bathing crowds. The prudish element hasn't yet been able to make its influence felt at Miami Beach to any noticeable extent. The one-piece bathing suit is heavily displayed by en- gaging young women, and there are also large numbers of bathing suits which ap- pear to be one-half-piece or even two- fifths-piece. The latter variety of bathing suit is never worn with stockings; for no stockings—so far as is known—have yet been made long enough to reach to the hips. A striking effect is frequently ob- tained by the wearers of these two-fifths- piece bathing suits when they stroll out on the beach in short, hip-length capes which hang open negli ently at the throat. One sO sees nothing below the cape but several (Continued on Page 83)

Page 83

Are you building—or re- modelling—a small home or bungalow this Spring? Then ask us to send you a blue print and specifications for a special hearth and brick wall facing for the Heatrola 66 Yyntlomen:— THE SATURDAY EVENING POST wow too Modest! —in your claims for this new heater, which looks like a phonograph and works like a furnace’’ HIS is to place important new heating information in the hands of owners of small homes and bunga- lows—with or WITHOUT BASE MENTS. Also stores, offices, halls, etc. Simply mail the coupon below. Book of full information will be sent free and postpaid. Take this opportunity to inform your- self on this new-day way of heating, if you have had unsatisfactory heating results this past winter, or if you are building or remodelling this spring. New principles are embodied in the Estate Heatrola-—a practical warm- air furnace, finished in grained ma hogany enamel and designed like a handsome cabinet phonograph. Thousands are in use. Back of it is our 77 years’ experience in building heating devices for the home. Results are amazing. The owner or renter of a small home is now offered all the advantages of warm air heating at low cost. What Users Write Us Recently we wrote to hundreds of users of Heatrolas. We wanted to learn first hand what their experience had been with the Heatrolas in their home Their replies are amazing. They tell us we are too modest in our claims. We say the Heatrola will heat 3 to 6 connecting rooms. Many ucers tell us it has been doing even more than that. We have published a number of these letters in a booklet, which we shall be glad to send on request. What we said about fuel economy, too, is multiplied. Five and 6 rooms are being heated at no more expense than heating one room the old way. Thus it is in thousands of homes, from Maine to California. Everywhere the Heatrola arouses the greatest en thusiasm. Supplants Stoves and Fireplaces Installed in one of the living rooms, the Heatrola keeps the whole house warm. —so say letters from hundreds of men Gnd women It heats 3 to 6 connecting rooms bet ter than the ordinary stove heats one Note, particularly, that the Heatrola is not a stove It is a furnace, which circulates great volumes of warm, moist air throughout the house. Hence the Heatrola offers the most healthful, the most economical way of heating. And the cleanest, for it is finished in a vitreous enamel, hard and smooth as glass, that you can rub and dust with a cloth, just as you do your furniture. This finish is practically everlasting. No black iron to polish, no nickel to shine. No going into the cellar to tend the furnace, this new way. Where To See The Heatrola Leading hardware stores, furniture stores and heating contractors every where are now featuring the Heatrola Ask your local dealer to show it to you. Or, if you don’t know him, MAIL THE COUPON for free book and local dealer’s name Ostale HEATROLA Mape By Tue Estate STOVE A Stove, Tue Famous EstTATESs. -For Cooxinc AND HEATING Company, HAMILTON, Oun10 Furnace AnpD RANGE WitHh Coat, Woon, BUILDERS Since 1845 OF A aed Every REQUIREMENT Gas AwnpvD ELeEcTRICITY re Larger Homes &stale~ WARM AIR HEATING SYSTEMS Pipe or Pipeless Models All cast-iron construction; many new fea- tures. 5-year GUARANTEED Fire Pot; Bal!l-Bearing Grate; Swinging Vaper Tank; Patented Radiator Clean-Out. Made in 4 sizes. Our Engineering Department will recommend proper size and type for your home, and will furnish blue print free of charge. FREE BOOK « Mail This THE ESTATE STOVE COMPANY Hamilton, Ohio Send me FREE information regarding heating system checked below ESTATE HEATROLA Single Register Heater (Pipeless Furnace) Pipe Furnace Name Street or R. F. D City and State | | | | | | | | |

Page 84

SATURDAY EVENING POST April 29, 1922 Delicious Prey reshint@ The Coca-Cola Company Atlanta,Ga.

Page 85

4 (Continued from Page 80 square yards of flesh, and nothing above the cape but several square feet of flesh. It is a sight that gives one pause. When one sees it for the first time he feels that he ought to hunt up a life-saver sometime later in the day and ask him to go and speak to the young woman and tell her that she has come out without her two-fifths-piece bathing suit. But one soon becomes ac- customed to seeing such things—-so accus- tomed, in fact, that one feels disappointed if he doesn’t see them. The Hon. William Jennings Bryan has a home in Miami, and was devoting most of his time last winter to assuring his large and enthusiastic audiences that the doc- trine of evolution, hitherto accepted as proved by every reputable scientist because of the overwhelming mass of supporting evidence, is no more worthy of credence than the story of Cinderella and the little glass slipper; that, in fact, it is as harmful to the young and impressionable as an un- expurgated set of Burton’s Arabian Nights. The citizens of Miami Beach were highly delighted with Mr. Bryan's anti-evolution activities—not because they have anything against evolution but because they like to see Mr. Bryan interested in something that will keep him from trying to make his neighbors conform to his ideas of right, and, by so doing, spoil the bathing hour. In fact, a committee of Miami Beachers was thinking of waiting on Mr. Bryan when he had finished shooting holes in Darwin, Huxley, Wallace, Herbert Spencer and other distinguished scientists, and urging him to attack the disgusting and contempt- ible theory that the earth is a globe or sphere, and to come out strong for a flat earth. There are no wheel chairs in Miami Beach, as there are in Palm Beach. The hotels tried to interest their guests in wheel chairs, but the guests would have none of them. They are successful at Palm Beach because the Palm Beachers find them use- ful things in which to kill time. But at Miami Beach one has no time for time- killing. There is something doing every minute. There are golf and tennis and polo and bathing and dancing and rushing over to town to see a movie or an orange grove or something, and if one tried to get around in a wheel chair he’d come down with nerv- ous prostration in a couple of days. The bootleggers are very active in Miami. The prices seem low to Northern- ers who have been paying $120 a case for stuff that is only fit for cleaning the nico- tine out of pipe stems. The bootleggers get the stuff in Bimini, which is a small island only a few miles off the Florida coast. It is a British island, but the British officials evidently haven’t any idea of assisting the United States to enforce her laws. Brought From Bimini The universal bootlegging price for Scotch whisky in Miami is fifty dollars a ease. The bootleggers buy it for about twenty-four dollars a case in Bimini. The taxicab men retail the stuff to the hotel guests at ten dollars a bottle, or $120 a case, which makes a very nice profit for them. Tourists who plan to bring back a wee nip of Scotch with them from Florida should be very careful to carry the bottles in their hand luggage. All trunks are opened on the way up, and all alcoholic stimulants carefully abstracted. Nothing else is touched. A friend of mine took three metal hot-water bottles to Florida with him so that he could bring Scotch back in them. These bottles were incased in pretty pink flannel wrappers. He filled them with Scotch as planned; but when he reached Washington again he found that his trunk had been opened and the bottles removed. The pink flannel wrappers were left behind, and nothing else had been touched. There seems to be an idea in the North that rum running from Bimini and Cuba to the Florida coast can be easily stopped by prohibition agents. This is a mistaken idea; for the rum runner has several hun- dred miles of uninhabited coast line and keys on which to land his cargo. It was among these keys that the most notorious pirates of the early days concealed their vessels and their treasure, and eluded pur- suit for years. It would be as easy to catch a rum runner among the Florida keys as to locate a red ant in the Hippodrome. The Florida keys drip down from the end of the peninsula on which Miami Beach is built, and would doubtless be compared by Senator Lodge or the late Robert Brown- ing to a necklace of jade and gold, or to mango on mango that o’erlace the sea, or something similarly poetic. Among, be- tween and around these keys is found the greatest fishing in the world. Florida fish- ing is about as much like the ordinary con- ception of fishing as prize fighting is like fox-trotting. Instead of sitting contem- platively over a rod and reel with a pipe in his mouth and a dreamy look in his eyes, and occasionally snaking a small fish out of the water in a leisurely manner, the Florida fisherman crouches over his rod with taut muscles and enters knock-down and drag-out fights with bundles of con- | centrated energy that leave him as sore and limp and blistered as though he had been wrestling with the Twentieth Century Limited. Speedy motor boats slip away from Miami landing stages and reach the fishing grounds in an hour. Over the reefs, on whose rocky peaks lie the skeletons of many an ancient wreck, wait the barracuda, sometimes known as the tigers of the sea. Catching Big Ones They are long, slim, silvery fish, rather like enormous pickerel, and their jaws *re set with heavy dog teeth. They avera,e between four and five feet in length; and as the fisherman sits in the stern of a motor boat with his bait spinning along thirty yards astern he can see the barracuda fol- lowing, following, following along behind the bait like a thin gray shadow. The barracuda is always there and always hungry; so when all other game fish fail the fishermen turn to him. When he finally decides to take the bait he takes it with such vigor that the fisherman feels that a steamer trunk has fallen on the tip of his rod. The rods are stiff as iron and the big reels have drags on them that would stop a race horse in a hundred yards; so the average barracuda seldom fights more than ten minutes. All game fish, of course, are caught by trolling from the back of a motor boat traveling from six to ten miles an hour. Out a little farther toward the Gulf Stream are the golden dolphins, thin and surprised-looking fish, much smaller than the barracuda, but better fighters. There, too, is the husky amber jack, that fights for twenty minutes and more in spite of the heavy drag on the reel. The prettiest welterweight fighter of the Florida waters is the sailfish, a blue-and-silver torpedo, five and six and seven feet in length, with a spear for a nose and a lateen sail for a dorsal fin. He is a finicky striker, and when he is at the bait one feels only a slight jar. The lightness of the touch usually means sailfish; and when it comes, the fisherman releases his drag and lets his line run out fifteen or twenty or even thirty feet. Then he snaps the drag back into place and hoists his rod with a mighty heave without further inquiry. Frequently the sailfish is at the end of the line, in which case the fun begins — the sensation being about the same as holding a bucking broncho at the end of a fifty-yard rope. If an amateur is holding the rod the end of the thirty or forty-five minute fight finds him calling in a weak and trembling voice for a large drink of var- nish or some similar restorative, and he spends the remainder of the trip pricking and caressing the blisters on his hands Farther out in the Gulf Stream are the kings of the heavyweight scrappers— tuna; while between the keys and the mainland are the giant tarpon. These fish will fight for two, three and even four hours; and if, in their leapings to shake the hook from their mouths, they chance to fall into the beat, there is never any room for anyone else. The spectacles that one sees in these Florida waters are enough to make Izaak Walton take the pledge. During one day’s — which I had off the keys with President James Allison, of the Miami Aquarium, and Cap'n Charley Thompson, champion tarpon tracker of Biscayne Bay, a whip ray twenty feet from wing to wing shot thirty feet into the air just ahead of our boat, falling back into the water with a crash that must have been heard a mile in every direction. Cap'n Thompson declared that this violent leap- ing was due to the fact that the whip ray frequently feeds on clams. When he has gathered a bushel of clams into his stomach he leaps high in the air and descends on his (Continued on Page 85 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ie like to have the money I’ve wasted because | was afraid to buy an athletic union suit priced as low as a dollar. l Was sO sure I couldn’t get anything worth while, that I cheerfully gave up double, year after year. “T didn’t know Topkis then ‘Finally, a persistent salesman argued me | thought he me to spend He Was he knew he Was | ind in Johnson’s shop into trying Topkis was foolish to urs less than I wanted to like a fox; ing me as a life-time customer ‘My dollar never before bought me as much quality and value as I get in Topkis. Loose, airy fit that keeps me comfort abl il] OVveT and lets my kin breathe. No skimpiness; no | } 1! HAaAYPINeSS 5 no pmen, no pull ‘Wear? That’s 1 ’ where Topki PTOPKIS BROTHER “Dollar Topkis gave me new ideas about value” shines Keeps its size, too, no matter how often its washed. But | could t ilk for a year wit th out getting the Topkis idea across to you Hop into a suit yourself and find out the same way | did.” Topki Athletic Union Suit ire made of best nainsook and other hivhyrade fabrics l’re shrunk full size guaranteed. Be ure you vet your correct size le if you wear a 395 coat, and so on No 100d te ilet will ISK moore than adollar for the Topki Men’ Union Suit—-although many will tell you it’s worth mor Men’ l nion Suits, >1.00 Men Shirt ind Drawer Ac per irment 9 fk B Union Suit Girl Bl mer Union it ind Children COMPANY, Underwear

Page 86

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST America’s Most Popular Cigar White Owl in the big Invincible shape NATIONAL BRANDS NEW YORK CITY

Page 87

(Continued from Page 83) stomach. The resultant crash breaks all the clam shells and permits the ray to j digest the clams. This doesn’t sound exactly right, but one should be careful Df about disbelieving any of these Florida y stories. A little later a giant marlin or spearfish plunged out of the water among our three lines when each line had a dolphin fighting ' busily at its end. Cap'n Thompson esti- mated his weight at 400 pounds, but three hours later he was estimating it at 700 | pounds. At the end of the afternoon, when the lines were being reeled in preparatory j to starting home, an eight-foot shark surged up from nowhere and removed my bait from beneath my hand. Fortunately he removed the hook with it, and a few minutes later he was lashed fast to the stern of the boat, making a hurried trip | back to Miami—where Director Louis Mowbray, of the Aquarium, spent a happy hour removing pilot fish and parasites from his nose and gills and tongue. | One can never tell what is going to turn j up in Florida waters. The prospectuses of H both winter and summer resorts usually lay Semse and Coming Across URING the early Kansas days, when i the Dalton Gang was terrorizing the state, trainmen on railroads were always terrified when any of the Dalton | boarded their train, for fear they | } boys con- templated a holdup. One of the Dalton boys, the recognized leader of the gang, had a habit, when trav- eling from one point to another, of bluffing the conductors into carrying him free. One day the Dalton Gang leader boarded | a train, and when the conductor came ' around and demanded his fare Dalton i whipped out his gun and snarled ‘‘There’s my fare’’ as he shoved his gun into the conductor's ribs. “All right, you ride, Dalton,”’ coolly an- swered the conductor, walking on through | the car. ! The conductor proceeded into the bag- gage car and procured a sawed-off shotgun. When he returned Dalton was leaning out i of the car window, so, taking him unaware, the conductor calmly walked up to him, shoved the gun into his ribs and gruffly ‘Say, Dalton, I’m ready to punch your And Dalton came across. said, ‘ ticket now.” Distance No Object AUNTING the farmer in the western } section of Kansas about the absence of ] water on his land has been commonly prac- i ticed for years. Last summer a party of Eastern autoists was passing through this section of the country, bound for the Pacific Coast. One of the drivers of the party, in need of water, stopped a farmer along the road, who was hauling several barrels of water on hiswagon. After negotiating with the farmer for the much-needed water the auto driver seriously inquired, ‘“‘ Well, my friend, tell me how far do you have to haul this y water?” y “Oh, only ’bout ten miles,” dryly answered. “Land sake!” exclaimed the “Why don’t you dig a well?” { “What's the use?”’ drawled the farmer. y! “It’s ’bout as far one way as ’tis the other.” the farmer stranger. y Took the Words Out of His Mouth q DAT had got hurt—not much more than ( a scratch, it is true—but his employer | had visions of being compelled to keep him , for life, and had adopted the wise course of sending him to the hospital. After the house surgeon had examined him carefully he said to the nurse: ‘As subcutaneous abrasion is not observable I do not think there is any reason prehend tegumental cicatrization.”’ to ap-

it on a little too thick. The Miami pros pectuses always sound very much too much, Starting with the bathing girls on the front cover and ending with the proud fisherman on the back cover, they always look a little too perfect. The phrasing, too, seems a trifle sappy and fat-headed. “It’s June in Miami,” these prospectuses dev lare, ‘‘where winter is turned to summer They seem to rave overwildly. ‘‘ Miami wel- comes you with the smile of the tropics,” rave these bits of passionate literature, “and the warmth of the unclouded sun is instilled in the hospitality of the greeting that awaits you here. Leave winter be- hind, fling care to the icy winds, come to Miami and play at being eternally young again. Here in Nature’s most alluring out- of-doors playground, under azure amid fronded palms and riotous flowers, with song of bird, the balmy air, and the benedictions of glorious sunshine, find health, happiness and contentment.” It seems like raving before you've been there. But after you've once been there you recognize that the fish are as advertised. pectuses, all. In fact, they seem pretty conservative. her SK1e8, As for the pros- Nonsense Then turning to the patient, he asked quizzically, ‘‘ What do you think, Pat?” “Sure,” said Pat, ‘“‘ye took the very words out of my mouth. That's just what I was going to say.” The Life of the Party TMHE general manager of a large Pacific Coast concern overheard some of his employes discussing the Jap question. Stepping up among them he jocularly inte rrupted, ‘Well, Tommy, I suppose you'll be -” first toe nlist if we should have war with Japan! “Oh, yes,”” Tommy nodded. “I'll go but there'll be two other guys going too.” “Well, who are they?” inquired the boss. “Why, the two fellows that will drag me there!"”” Tommy replied. His Parting Words LARGE Western railroad, when its em- ployes are injure od or accidentally kille 4, requires the foreman to render a full detailed report of the accident. A printed form is used, which has many complexities before all detailed questions are satisfac- torily answered. The company employs a large number of Mexican track laborers, and one day a push car loaded with rails got away from a Mexican, taking him on a wild ride down grade until the car hit a de- rail at a switch. The laborer was killed instantly. Mike Casey, an old-time foreman, took matters in hand and immediately under- took to render his accident report. In his rough scrawl he answered all the questions to the best of his knowledge, but hesitated when he encountered the last question on the printed form, namely: REMARKS Scratching his head for several minute while he pondered, he finally inserted, ‘ He never made any. He was dead.” His Method nuth’n special in the paper to-day,”’ replied an acquaint ance who had been interrogated by Tobe Wolford, of the Owl] Gulch, Arkansas, neigh- borhood, “‘except that it says four million folks will starve to death in Rooshy t winter if they don’t get help.” “Well, they ort to starve if they hain’t got no better sense than to stick right there in Rooshy when times is thataway,”’ was the disgusted answer. ‘‘When things get to such a pass with me that it looks like something has got to be did I hook up the hosses, pour a gourdful of water on the fire, call the dogs, and take the family ov to Oklahomy to visit my wife’s kin.”’ HERE hain’t

THE SATURDAY bathing girls and the | they don’t seem so violent after |

85 EVENING POST “World’s Greatest Business SALES LETTER i G. etter! 99 ) Liber ty LumberCo., Liberty, N. y.

, Down.in U.S.A. °20% Down.in Canada Balance in Monthly Payments Chic age «+ Toront Cost $1352 Goshen Shirt Co., Chicago, Il. i ip LL your story briefly tell it often’ That's and the way to win busine this year ‘From 500 Addressograph-ed yy letters costing $13 mmplete, we got orders for 111 dozen 1 te hirt $2,200 worth of busi ne Another letter to 4,000 Ri names brought 319 orders at PRI } once and 80 repeats—$17,000 dressogragh i worth of sales!’’—-Goshen Shirt $335 i . Company, hicago 2 : Learn thru FREE trial of this $57.50 Ribbon-Print Ad dre ograph uw thie Liberty Lumber Company, Liberty N. Y., calls it the World's Greatest Business Getter!'’ FREE Trial will show YOU how the same machine increased Mead-Johnson Mfg. Com pany ile 63°, in 1921—a mp vear tor many concerns: Prove at our expense how this famou hort-cut"” sa in elling, collect n,pa roll, audit ing and shipping work! Just mail coupon below! No cost ibligation ! 2 FREE Books to Help You Sell! no « scare f 1— Mailing Lists—Their Preparation, 12 ft) Care and Uses $ 26 2—How Live Sales Promotion puts the Sharp Edge on Dull Business Free with coupon below Alddresso ‘

,. os ry ° i J » a4 PY y*- PA ~ ¢ 2 4 | Balt . Oe et I t I k a.) es ¢ a J Canada: 60W.FrootSt., TORONTO Richins Montreal — Winnipeg _— > Ke ¥ ; : f ' t

Page 88

THE SATURDAY Cheaper to take ICE FEW cents a day will buy enough ice for aver- age family use. Food costs you many times as much. You cannot afford to waste it. At this season you need ice, not only to keep food from spoiling, but also to retain its fresh, appetizing flavor and the nourishing qualities so necessary to health. Keeping food down cellar or ina back entry is not safe; at any temperature above 50” it spoils. The Comfort of Having Ice cannot be measured in money. It makes a big difference in the family health, es- pecially ‘the health of young children. They must have fresh milk and you cannot keep it fresh without ice. Dis- ease germs multiply rapidly in milk which is not kept COLD. Take ice regularly—the year ‘round; it will save you money. = This Emblem Your Protection On any ice wagon it means that its owner is a responsible business man and a member of the National Association of Ice Industries, pledged by it to give you Pure Ick, Care- FUL Weicut and Goop Service. He would not be awarded this emblem if he did not live up to the high standards set by the Association for serving the public. You can depend upon him and his drivers —-KNOW in advance that his ice is pure and his weight is right. At ~ a oF a, NATIONAL ASSOCIATION OF ICE INDUSTRIES 163 W. Washington Street, Chicago, Illinois DEPEND ON IN ALL WEATHER EVENING POST Wingate and his wife were talking heatedly, she in her nervousness not knowing that she fumbled over and over in her fingers the heavy bit of rock which Molly had picked up and which was in her handkerchief when it was requisitioned by her mother to bathe her face just now. After a time she tossed the nugget aside into the grass. It was trodden by a hun- dred feet ere long. But gold will not die. In three weeks a prowling Gros Ventre squaw found it and carried it to the trader, Bordeaux, asking “Shoog?”’ “Non, non!”’ replied the Laramie trader. “Pas de shoog!’’ But he looked curiously at the thing, so heavy. “How, cola!’’ wheedled the squaw. “‘Shoog!’’ She made the sign for sugar, her finger from her palm to her lips. Bordeaux tossed the thing into the tin can on the shelf and gave her what sugar would cover | aspoon. | ‘“*Where?”? he asked her, his fingers | loosely shaken, meaning ‘‘Where did you get it?” The Gros Ventre lied to him like a lady, and told him, on the South Fork, on the | Creek of Bitter Cherries—-near where Den- | ver now is; and where placers once were. That was hundreds of miles away. The Gros Ventre woman had been there once in her wanderings and had seen some heavy metal. Years later, after Fort Laramie was taken over by the Government, Bordeaux as sutler sold much flour and bacon to men hurrying down the South Fork to the early Colorado diggings. Meantime in his cups he often had told the mythical tale of the Gros Ventre woman—long after Cali- fornia, Idaho, Nevada, Montana were all afire. But one of his halfbreed children very presently had commandeered the tin cup and its contents, so that to this day no man knows whether the child swal- lowed the nugget or threw it into the Laramie River or the Platte River or the sagebrush. Some depose that an emigrant bought it of the baby; but no one knows. What all men do know is that gold does not die; nay, nor the news of it. And this news now, like a multiplying germ, was in the wagon train that had started out for | Oregon. As for Molly, she asked no questions at | all about the lost nugget, but hurried to her own bed, supperless, pale and weeping. She told her father nothing of the nature of her meeting with Will Banion, then or at any time for many weeks. “Molly, come here, I want to talk to you.” Wingate beckoned to his daughter the second morning after Banion’s visit. The order for the advance was given. The men had brought in the cattle and the yoking up was well forward. The rattle of pots and pans was dying down. Dogs had taken their places on flank or at the wagon rear, women were climbing up to the seats, children clinging to pieces of dried meat. The train was waiting for the word. The girl followed him calmly, high- headed. “Molly, see here,” he began. ‘‘ We're all ready to move on. I don't know where Will Banion went, but I want you to know, as I told him, that he can’t travel in our train.” “He'll not ask to, fathe or. to stic k to his own men. | ‘*He’s left you at last! That’s good. | Now I want you to drop him from your | thoughts. Hear that, and heed it. I tell you once more, you're not treating Sam Woodhull right.” She made him no answer. “You're still young, Molly,”’ he went on. **Once you're settled you'll find Oregon all right. Time you were marrying. You'll be twenty and an old maid first thing you know. Sam will mi ike you a good husband. Heed what I say. But she did not heed, though she made no reply tohim. Her eye, “scornful, threaten- ing and young,” looked yonder where she knew her lover was; nor was it in her soul ever to return from following after him. The name of her intended husband left her | cold as ice. “Roll out! Roll out! Ro-o-o-ll ou-t!’”’ The call went down the line once more. The pistolry of the wagon whips made answer, the drone of the drivers rose as the He’s promised sore-necked oxen bowed their heads again, THE COVERED WAGON (Continued from Page 21) April 29, 1922 with less strength even for the lightened loads. The old man who sat by the gate at Fort Laramie, twisting a curl around his finger, saw the plain clearing now, as the great train swung out and up the river trail. He perhaps knew that Jim Bridger, with his own freight wagons, going light and fast with mules, was on west, ahead of the main caravan. But he did not know the news Jim Bridger carried, the same news that Carson was carrying east. The three old mountain men, for a few hours meeting after years, now were passing far apart, never to meet again. Their chance encountering meant much to hundreds of men and women then on the road to Ore- gon; to untold thousands yet to come. As for one Samuel Woodhull, late column captain, it was to be admitted that for some time he had been conscious of certain buf- fetings of fate. But as all thoroughbred animals are thin-skinned, so are all the short-bred pachydermatous, whereby they endure and mayhap arrive at the manger as well as the next. True, even Woodhull’s vanity and self-content had everything asked of them in view of his late series of mishaps; but by now he had somewhat chirked up under rest and good food, and was once more the dandy and hail fellow. He felt assured that very presently by- gones would be by “mg s. Moreover—so he reasoned —if he, Sam Woodhull, won the spoils, what matter who had won any sort of victory? He knew, as all these others knew and as all the world knows, that a beautiful woman is above all things spolia opima of war. Well, in ten days he was to marry Molly Wingate, the most beautiful woman of the train and the belle of more than one community. Could he not afford to laugh best, in spite of all events, even if some of them had not been to his own liking? But the girl’s open indifference was least of all to his liking. It enraged his vain, choleric nature to its inner core. Already he planned dominance, but willing to wait and to endure for ten days, meantime he employed innocence, reticence, dignity, at- tentiveness, so that he seemed a suitor misunderstood, misrepresented, unjustly used; to whose patient soul none the less presently must arrive justice and exonera- tion, after which all would be happier even than a marriage bell. After the wedding bells he, Samuel Woodhull, would show who was master Possessed once more of horse, arms and personal equipment, and having told his own story of persecution to good effect throughout the train, Woodhull had been allowed to resume a nominal command over a part of the Wingate wagons. The real control lay in the triumvirate who once had usurped power, and who might do so again. Wingate himself really had not much more than nominal control of the general company, although he continued to give what Caleb Price called the easy orders. His wagons, now largely changed to ox transport, still traveled at the head of the train, Molly continuing to drive her own light wagon and Jed remaining on the cow column, The advance hardly had left Fort Lar- amie hidden by the rolling ridges before Woodhull rode up to Molly’s wagon and made excuse to pass his horse to a boy while he himself climbed up on the seat with his fiancée. She made room for him in silence, her eyes straight ahead. The wagon cover made good screen behind, the herdsmen were far in the rear, and from the wagons ahead none could see them. Yet when, after a moment, her affianced husband dropped an arm about her waist the girl flung it off impatiently. *Don’t!”’ she exclaimed. ‘I detest love- making in public. We see enough of it that can’t be hid. It’s getting worse, more open, the farther we get out.” “The train knows we are to be married at the halfway stop, Molly. Then you'll change wagons and will not need to drive.” ‘Wait till then.” #2 count the hours. est? She turned a pallid face to him at last, resentful of his endearments. “Yes, I do,” she said. But he did not know what she meant or why she was so pale. (Continued on Page 89) Don’t you, dear-

Page 89

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST . . | comparing them with , . 30 x 3'2—Fisk Premier Tread . . $10.85 | other makes will go | 32:3:-newsiidriinc™. °° “vss | . 30 x 3'2—Six-Ply Non-Skid Clincher Cord 17.85 | further toward selling | s::scrynestacedsraisie 198s ) 32x4 —Non-Skid Cord ‘ey Sa 30.50 { them to you than pages S4nauyoNeeSkidCed 11. 41.00 35x 5 —Non-Skid Cord oi. « 51.50 of copy could do. The aw © Se ae 4 ie 4 q , Pai Me oy ’ / Ps 2 S «8 pret ; 4 r * j ms (V7 a? } # y 1 “ss Fisk Tires Stand Any Comparison And Show Their Extra Value SIVE minutes given to the in- —_ extra value in Fisk Tires this year spection of Fisk Tires and to — issoreal and so obvious that it will a > ) Uy bd s : , =a pay any buyer, in money saving and in satisfac- tion, if he will compare Fisk for size, strength, resiliency, looks, price. There’s a Fisk Tire of extra value in every size for car, truck or speed wagon . Time to Re-tire? (Buy Fisk) FRADE MARK REG. U. 8. PAT, OFF wd

Page 90

OW DOES its present value com- H pare with its cost? Your bank will tell you and it’s well to know. The only known way to keep the original value in a building is to keep it painted. That’s the first thing to know and the second is this: Every building has many surfaces, each requiring a different finish ac- Send 50 cents (65 cents in Canada) for The Home Painting Manual, the most complete work on paint- ing ever compiled. 170 pages of text; 27 color plate pages. Address601Canal Rd.,Cieveland,O.,Dept.B435. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST What could you borrow on your home? cording to the nature of the surface and the wear it gets. You can buy under the Sherwin-Williams label just the right finish for each surface you wish to protect or beautify—a finish that will faithfully serve its purpose and keep the value in your home. There is a Sherwin-Williams dealer near you. Sent Free.—Set of 8 color plates, showing modern effects in interior decoration and attractive combi- nations for exterior painting. The Sherwin-Williams Co., 601 Canal Road, N. W., Cleveland, Ohio. SHERWIN-WILLIAMS PropbucrTs ‘PAINTS ano VARNISHES Aprit 29,1922 $82 spent for paint brought a $1,500 loan on this house FeINDING it necessary to place a mortgage on a small dwelling which I owned, I had the property inspected by an appraiser and was surprised to learn that the appraiser advised his company to reduce the amount of insurance on the house by one-third. The best offer of a loan I could get was $800 which I did not accept, and in talking with a real estate friend the condition of the paint came up. When I told him that the house was about four years old and had never been painted, he said without hesi- tation, ‘‘ That is the cause of your trouble.”’ Iimmediately got in touch with a reliable paint dealer, invested $42 in a standard brand of ready- mixed paint and employed an old ne- gro“ Jackofall Trades’’ whoput two coats of paint on the house for $40. This $82 investment made my house look so much better that I had no difficulty in securing a loan of $1,500 and my insurance policy, instead of being reduced, was in- creased one-third. (signed) G. E. LENNON Savannah, Georgia 6

Page 91

y } | | 7 { H \ t Continued from Page 86) “TI think we’ll settle in Portland,” he went on. “‘The travelers’ stories say that place, at the head of navigation on the Willamette, has as good a chance as Oregon City, at the Falls. I'll practice law. The goods I am taking out will net us a good sum, I’m hoping. Oh, you'll see the day when you'll not regret that I held you to your promise! I’ ’m not playing this Oregon game to lose it. ‘Do you play any game to lose it?" “No! Better to have than to explain have not—that’s one of my mottoes.” “No matter how?” ‘““Why do you ask?” “‘T was only wondering.” “About what?” “‘About men—and the differences.” **My dear, as a school-teacher you have ys to use a map, a blackboard. Do rou look on us men as ponderable, measur- ee le, computable?” ‘‘A girl ought to do that if she’s going to marry.” “Well, he aven’t you?” “Have I?’ She still was staring straight ahead, cold, making no silent call for a lover’s arms or arts. Her silence was so long that at length even his thick hide was pierced. “Molly!” he broke out. “‘ Listen to me! Do you want the engagement broken? Do you want to be released?’ “What would they all think?” “Not the question. Answer me!” “No, I don’t want it broken. I want it over with. Isn’t that fair?” “Is it?” **Didn’t you say you wanted me on any terms?” “Surely!” “Don’t you now? “Yes, I do, and I’m going to have you too!” His eye, covetous, turned to the ripe young beauty of the maid beside him. He was willing to pay any price. “Then it all seems settled.” ‘“‘All but one part. You've never really and actually told me you loved me.” A wry smile. ‘I’m planning to do that after I marry you. I suppose that’s the tendency of a woman. Of course, it can’t be true that only one man will do for a woman to marry, or one woman fora man. If anything went wrong on that basis—why, marrying would stop! That would be foolish, wouldn’t it? I suppose women do adjust. Don’t you think so?”’ His face grew hard under this cool rea- soning. ‘Am I to understand that you are marrying me as a second choice, and so that you can forget some other man?” ‘“*Couldn’t you leave a girl a secret if she had one? Couldn't you be happier if you did? Couldn’t you take your chance and see if there’s anything under the notion about more than one man and more than one woman in the world? Love? Why, what is love? Something to marry on? They say it passes. They tell me that marriage is more adjustable, means more interests than love; that the woman who marries with her eyes open is apt to be the happiest in the long run. Well, then, you said you wanted me on any terms. Does not th: at ine lude open eyes?” “You're making a hard bargain—the hardest a man can be obliged to take.” “It was not of my seeking.” “You said you loved me—at first.” “‘No. Only a girl’s in love with love at first. I’ve not really lied to you. I’m trying to be honest before marriage. Don’t fear I'll not be afterward. There’s much in that, don’t you think? Maybe there’s something, too, in a woman’s ability to adjust and compromise. I don’t know. We ought to be as happy as the average married couple, don’t you think? None of them are happy for so very long, they say. They say love doesn’t last long. I hope not. One thing, I believe marriage is easier to be sat than love is.” “How old are you, really, Molly? “TI am just over nineteen, sir.” “You are wise for that; you are old.” “Yes—since we started for Oregon.” He sat in sullen silence for a long time, all the venom of his nature gathering, all his savage jealousy. ‘“You mean since you met that renegade, traitor and thief, Will Banion! Tell me, isn’t that it?” “Yes, that’s know more. ” true. I’m older now. I ” “And you'll marry me without love? You love him without marriage? Is that nu?” “T’ll never marry a thief.” “But you love one?” “I thought I loved you.” “But you do love him, that man!” Now at last she turned to him, gazing straight through the mist of her tears. “Sam, if you really loved me, would you ask that? Wouldn’t you just try to be so | gentle and good that there’d no longer be any place in my heart for any other sort of love, so I'd learn to think that our love was the only sort in the world? Wouldn’t you take your chance and make good on it, be- lieving that it must be in nature that a woman can love more than one man or love men in more than one way? Isn’t marriage broader and with more chance for both? If you love me and not just yourself alone, can’t you take your chance as I am taking mine? And after all, doesn’t a woman give the odds? If you do love me “If I do, then my business is to try to make you forget Will Banion.” “There is no other way you could. He may die. I promise you I'll never see him after I’m married. “And I'll promise you another thing” her strained nerves now were speaking truth for her—“if by any means I ever learn —if I ever believe —that Major Banion is not what I now think him I'll go on my knees to him. I'll know marriage was wrong and love was right all the time.’ ‘Fine, my dear! Much happiness! But unfortunately for Major Banion’s passing romance, the official records of a military court-martial and a dishonorable discharge from the Army are facts which none of us can doubt or deny.” “Yes, that’s how it is. So that’s why. “W hat do you really mean then, Molly you say ‘That’s why’?’ “That's why I’m going to marry you, Sam. Nine days from to-day, at the In- dependence Rock, if we are alive. And from now till then, and always, I’m going to be honest, and I’m going to pray God to give you power to make me forget every other man in all the world except my my ” But she could not say the word “*h jusband. - “*Your husband!” He said it for her, and perhaps then re ached his zenith in approximately un- selfish devotion, and in good resolves at least. The sun shone blinding hot. The white dust rose in clouds. The plague of flies in- creased. The rattle and creak of wheel, the monotone of the drivers, the cough of dust- afflicted kine made the only sounds for a long time. “You can’t kiss me, Molly? He spoke not in dominance but in diffi- de once The girl awed him. “No, not till after,Sam; and I think I'd rather be left alone from now till then. After Oh, be good to me, Sam! I’m trying to be honest as a woman can. If I were not that I'd not be worth marrying at all.” Without suggestion or agreement on his part she drew tighter the reins on her mules. He sprang down over the whee! The sun and the dust had their way again; the monotony of life, its drab discontent, its yearnings and its sense of failure once more resumed sway in part or all of the morose caravan. They all sought new for- tunes, each of these. One day each must learn that, travel far as he likes, a man takes himself with him for better or for worse. 9 xXxXIXx i . allowed the main caravan two ) days’ start before he moved beyond Fort Laramie. Every reason bade him to cut entirely apart from that portion of the company. He talked with every man he knew who had any knowledge of the coun- try on ahead, read all he could find, studied such maps as then existed, and kept an open ear for advice of old-time men who in hard experience had learned how to get across a country. Two things troubled him: The possi bility of grass exhaustion near the trail, and the menace of the Indians. Squaw men in from the north and west said that the Arapahoes were hunting on the Sweetwater, and sure to make trouble; that the Black- feet were planning war; that the Bannacks were east of the Pass; that even the Crows were far down below their normal range and certain to harass the trains. These stories, not counting the hostility of the Sioux and Cheyennes of the Platte country, THE SATURDAY Dunlop 1/62 The best ball to play th Smaller Dunlop “D"’ The most durable ball to play with. Med um size BSc each Dunlop W. arwick The hea pe EVENING POST with us again or the new season The Choice of Particular Players Here 's the golf ball that has establi hed itself as the choice of particular golfers. Amateurs and Professionals, the world ove - have cde pended upon the sure playing qualities of Dunlops for mor than fifteen years Today, as a perfected product of skilled work manship, the Dunlop ranks as the leading 1m ported golf ball, both in volume ot general spread of its popularity ales and the This Year's Price 85 Cents Each During the last two years the regular price of standard Dunlop balls has been $1.10 each This season we are pleased to announce a price recession, which makes the Dunlop /62, the Dunlop . ” and the Duniop Vag in « bt unable at &85c each The Warwick will retail at 70 Everything considered including the plaving qualities, durability and dependability—we be lheve that the buyer of golf balls wall find th Dunlop range provides for the truest economy You Can Get Dunlops If You Ask For Them Many players accustomed to the use of Dunlop golf balls have sometimes found it difficult to obtain their favorite brand. No need for being without Dunlops this season \ liberal supply is available, and there is no reason for taking a substitute article. Sometimes, though, you may have to insist on Dur lop to get them If you don’t find Dunlop balls in stock, please write us, giving the name of your club Duntop Trre & RupBeR CORPORATION OF AMERICA Golf Ball Sales Department 17 East 42nd Street New York City

Page 92

This is the number of the plated, ball tip, loose-pin McKinney Butt. Tf you are thinking of building, sd this book will be mighty helpful IS aim ts to suggest to you a number of little things which should be carefully considered in building a home—little things which sometimes are overlooked — but little things which go a long way toward making your home an easy-running, pleasurable place in which to live. It is a book which will prevent a lot of regrets after your home has been lived in It wiil eliminate such expressions as “ Well, 1f we had to a while - La chon of iv. r again we would do thus and so } ao it OV Ask us to send you this book. A postcard will bring it by return mail. you considerable valuable information about particularly information about hinges. Che book will also give proper It will explain to you the importance of hinges. Why they should be selected carctully; why a few moments’ thought about hinges before your to forget all about hinges during all the hardware for your home home is built will enable you Cups the house. will tell you why McKinney Hinges and Butts for over half a century have answered the exacting requirements of architects, builders ind home owners, why they have always given such long years of service, why they have always served easily, smoothly and noiselessly. Garage Door Hardware Sets. We will also send you our book describing one of t latest McKinne\ developments for th convenience of those who are thinking t tail gay it irae The book shows pictures and working pl ins for the designing l erect # all kinds of garage doors. For each type of door there is a complete set of Mekin Hardware, packed complete in a box. Everything needed for the hanging and itn of the oors included. Write for these books today. McKINNEY MANUFACTURING COMPANY, Pittsburgh Western Office, Wrigley Building, Chicago Export Representation MCKINNEY Hinges and Butts and Hardware nara hard re, door hangers rd i Ay ; and track, har dware, steel door-mats door bolts and latches, shelf brackets, window and wrought specialties. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST made it appear that there was a tacit sus- pense of intertribal hostility, and a general and joint uprising against the migrating whites. These facts Banion did not hesitate to | make plain to all his men; but, descendants | of pioneers, with blood of the wilderness in their veins, and each tempted by adventure as much as by gain, they laughed long and loud at the thought of danger from all the Indians of the Rockies. Had they not beaten the Sioux? Could they not in turn humble the pride of any other tribe? Had not their fathers worked with rifle lashed to the plow beam? Indians? Let them come! Founding his own future on this resolute | spirit of his men, Banion next looked to the | order of his own personal affairs. He found prices so high at Fort Laramie, and the stock of all manner of goods so low, that he felt it needless to carry his own trading wagons all the way to Oregon, when a profit | of 400 per cent lay ready not a third of the way across and less the further risk and cost. He accordingly cut down his own stocks to one wagon, and sold off wagons and oxen as well, until he found himself possessed of considerably more funds than when he had started out. He really cared little for these matters. What need had he for a fortune or a future now? He was poorer than any jeans-clad ox driver with a sunbonnet on the seat beside him and tow-headed children on the flour and bacon sacks, with small belong- ings beyond the plow lashed at the tail gate, the ax leaning in the front corner of the box and the rifle swinging in its loops at the wagon bows. They were all beginning life again. He was done with it. The entire caravan now had passed in turn the Prairies and the Plains. In the vestibule of the mountains they had arrived in the most splendid out-of-doors country the world has ever offered. The climate was superb, the scenery was a constant suc- cession of changing beauties new to the eyes of all. Game was at hand in such lavish abundance as none of them had dreamed possible. The buffalo ranged al- ways within touch, great bands of elk now appeared, antelope always were in sight. | The streams abounded in noble game fish, and the lesser life of the open was threaded across continually by the presence of the great predatory animals—the grizzly, the gray wolf, even an occasional mountain lion. The guarding of the cattle herds now required continual exertion, and if any weak or crippled draft animal fell out its bones were clean within the hour. The feeling of the wilderness now was distinct enough for the most adventurous. They fed fat, and daily grew more like savages in look and practice. Wingate’s wagons kept well apace with | the average schedule of a dozen miles a day, at times spurting to fifteen or twenty miles, and made the leap over the heights of land between the North Platte and the Sweetwater, which latter stream, often winding among defiles as well as pleasant meadows, was to lead them to the summit of the Rockies at the South Pass, beyond which they set foot on the soil of Oregon, reaching thence to the Pacific. Before them now lay the entry mark of the Sweet- water Valley, that strange oblong upthrust of rock, rising high above the surrounding plain, known for two thousand miles as Independence Rock. : At this point, more than eight hundred miles out from the Missouri, a custom of unknown age seemed to have decreed a pause. The great rock was an unmistakable landmark, and time out of mind had been a register of the wilderness. It carried hun- dreds of names, including every prominent | one ever known in the days of fur trade or the new day of the wagon trains. It be- came known as a resting place; indeed, many rested there forever, and never saw the soil of Oregon. Many an emigrant woman, sick well-nigh to death, held out so that she might be buried among the many other graves that clustered there. So, she felt, she had the final company of her kind. And those weak or faint of heart the news that this was not halfway across often smote with despair and death, and they, too, laid themselves down here by the road tu Oregon. But here also were many scenes of cheer. By this time the new life of the trail had been taken on, rude and simple. Frolics were promised when the wagons should reach the Rock. Neighbors made reunions there. Weddings, as well as burials, were a till the train got to Independence OcK, April 29,1922 Here then, a sad-faced girl, true to her promise and true tosomestrange philosophy of her own devising, was to become the wife of a suitor whose persistency had brought him little comfort beyond the wedding date. All the train knew that Molly Wingate was to be married there to Sam Woodhull, now restored to trust and authority. Some said it was a good match, others shook their heads, liking well to see a maid either blush or smile in such case as Molly’s, whereas she did neither. At all events, Mrs. Wingate was two days baking cakes at the train stops. Friends got together little presents for the bride. Jed, Molly’s brother, himself a fid- dler of parts, organized an orchestra of a dozen pieces. The Rev. Henry Doak, a Baptist divine of much nuptial diligence en route, made ready his best coat.. They came into camp. In the open spaces of the valley hundreds of wagons were scattered, each to send representatives to Molly Win- gate’s wedding. Some insisted that the ceremony should be performed on the top of the Rock itself, so that no touch of ro- mance should lack. Then approached the very hour-—ten of the night, after duties of the day were A canopy was spread for the cere mony. A central camp fire set the place for the wedding feast. Within a half hour the bride would emerge from the secrecy of her wagon to meet at the canopy under the Rock the impatient groom, already clad in his best, already giving largess to the riotous musicians, who now attuned ir struments, now broke out into rude jest or pertinent song. But Molly Wingate did not appear, nor her father or mother. A hush fell on the rude assemblage. The minister of the gos- pel departed to the Wingate encampment to learn the cause of the delay. He found Jesse Wingate irate to open wrath, the girl’s mother stony calm, the girl herself white but resolute. “She insists on seeing the marriage li- cense, Mr. Doak,” began Jesse Wingate. ‘*As though we could have one! As though she should care more for that than her parents!” “Quite so,”’ rejoined the reverend man. “‘That is something I have taken up with the happy groom. I have with all the couples I have joined in wedlock on the trail. Of course, being a lawyer, Mr. Wood- hull knows that even if they stood before the meeting and acknowledged themselves man and wife it would be a lawful marriage before God and man. Of course, also we all know that since we left the Missouri River we have been in unorganized territory, with no courts and no form of government, no society as we understand it at home. Very well. Shall loving hearts be kept asunder for those reasons? Shall the natural course of life be thwarted until we get to Oregon? Why, sir, that is absurd! We do not even know much of the government of Oregon itself, except that it is provisional.” The face of Molly Wingate appeared at the drawn curtains of her transient home. She stepped from her wagon and came forward. Beautiful, but not radiant, she was; cold and calm, but not blushing and uncertain. Her wedding gown was all in white, true enough to tradition, though but of delaine, pressed new from its pack- ing trunk by her mother’s hands. Her bodice, long and deep in front and at back, was plain entirely, save for a treasure of lace from her mother’s trunk and _ her mother’s wedding long ago. Her hands had no gloves, but white short-fingered mitts, a'so cherished remnants of days of school- girl belledom, did service. Over white stockings, below the long and full-bodied skirt, showed the crossed bands of long elastic tapes tied in an ankle bow to hold in place her little slippers of black high- finished leather. Had they seen her, all had said that Molly Wingate was the sweetest and the most richly clad bride of any on all the long, long trail across the land that had no law. And all she lacked for her wedding costume was the bride’s bouquet, which her mother now held out to her, gathered with care that day of the mountain flow- ers—blue harebells, forget-me-nots of varied blues, and the blossom of the gentian, bold and blue in the sunlight, though at night infolded and abashed, its petals turning in and waiting for the sun again to warm them. Molly Wingate, stout and stern, full bosomed, wet eyed, held out her one little present to her girl, her ewe lamb, whom she was now surrendering. But no hand of the Continued on Page 93 done.

Page 93

{ ; d THE SATURDAY EVENING POST The Open Door to Better Health- It's in Your Home F a scientist from another world should come to our earth and write a book on our habits and customs, we might have a queer picture of ourselves. Among other things, he might say: “These humans live in artificial caverns of wood, stone or brick, divided into rooms with doors between. The outer walls have doors and windows to admit light and air. “In summer, windows and doors are open and their houses are light and airy, but in winter they close the outside openings and even the doors between the rooms, living in a stuffy, dry, heated atmosphere that is usually very uneven in temper- ature. “This queer custom, that is quite generally followed even in the best of their homes, is un- doubtedly the cause of much illness, for these humans are subject to many diseases of nose, throat and lungs in the winter, when they really should be more healthy than in the summertime.” We must admit that this is true. Doctors know it is true and insist on open windows and doors in the sick- room. Architects know it is true, and they design homes with wide openings between the living rooms. But do what they will, the doctor and the architect cannot give you a completely open house with proper ventilation in winter; only a good heating system can do this. The Convector Opens Your Doors to Health The Mueller Convector heats every room in a house through one register on the first floor. It auto- matically circulates all the air in your home over its large heating sur- face and back again to your rooms. Fresh air is warmed and mingled with all the air in the house and sent throughout every room. This health- ful ventilation is going on all the time; the air is never still. There can be no stagnant air pockets, no spotty hot or cold places. This complete air circulation, caused by the Convector, really opens doors to better health. Hav- ing a well designed open house is of little use unless your heating system gives you correct ventilation. You, might keep every inner door open and still have poor ventilation with a heating system that does not circu- late air. There is no more practical and economical way of heating any home than with the clean, warm air that comes from the Convector’s single register. Living rooms are entirely ge 771 i “Re, no pipes, no radiators, no valves or registers free of heating apparatus scattered over the house—nothing but a constant circulation of health- fully moistened air. The Convector never makes a noise, it cannot freeze, it cannot leak. How Nature Automatically Keeps the Temperature Even Sometimes people ask how an even temperature may be maintained with Convector heat and ventilation why the upstairs rooms are not cooler than the downstairs rooms—why the room or hallway in which the register is located is not warmer than other parts of the house. They might as well ask how an even temperature is maintained with the large warm air heating and venti lating systems installed in our best schools and hospitals. They operate on exactly the same principle as the Convector, except that they must have expensive systems of fans and piping because of the large size of the buildings. With the Convector the warmed air circulates quite naturally and evenly, without these aids. This system of circulation is so efficient that if one room becomes cooler than the others for any reason, the Convector automatically begins to send more heat to that room. Gravity causes this action, and there he is nothing more positive than the law of gravitation. There is rarely a difference of more than a few degrees in temperature in the rooms of a Convector heated home. Interesting Facts About the Convector It is positively guaranteed to heat all your home to your entire satis- faction. Phousands of practical tests prove that it in fuel. aves one-third to one-half It can be installed in any home, new or old, usually in less than one day's time Warmed air from the Con vector is healthfully mots- Pee SALESMEN: We have places for several proved men who want an excellent product to back their abil ity. Write us DEALERS: Write now for details of exclusive sales plan. This is an unusual opportu. nity for good busi | ness. tened. It does not harm furniture, interior woodwork and fine finishes, fabrics or musical instruments, as dry heated air often does. The Convector is more quickly and easily regulated to temperature change than any other type of sys- tem, and it is regulated directly by the amount of fuel you burn. You can take the chill off the whole house in a few minutes by burning a few pounds of fuel—the Convector is noted for this economy. It is very easily operated—two firings a day will keep all your home cozily warm. Nothing to get out of order. No expensive repairs. Heats ample supply of water for kitchen and bath. Sizes for homes of four to eighteen rooms. Will heat store buildings, theaters and churches. Takes small space in basement Never heats basement. Not necessary to have full size basement for installation. hard coal, soft gas, oils, lignite, gurns any fuel coal, coke, wood, creenings You can buy the Convector on easy terms, if desired, from a dealer near you. Send coupon now, for completeinformationoninstallation for your home. Send for Your Copy of “HEAT” his book is an interesting dis- cussion of scientific facts about heat and its use in homes and other buildings. It is of especial value to architects, builders, hom« ind those who are about to buy or build a home. owners Che information in this book will enable you to save fuel and get greater comfort and efficiency from your present method of heating—no matter what system you are using Send for it. No obligation. Mail the coupon below to L. J. MUELLER FURNACE CO., 246 Reed St., Milwaukee, Wis. Makers of Warm Air Steam Vapor and Hiot Water Heating Systems Established 1857 Pk L. J. Mueller Furnace Co., 246 Reed St., Milwaukee, Wis

Page 94

WALDEN STALE EOUUEAE ESSE EA ESUOT TERE RES ULES CULES TT OL ETE CS EGR TSE ERE EC eee Keep a supply of Pet Milk always on the pantry shelf and you will never be without milk. You will appreciate the convenience and economy of using Pet Milk. For coffee, it is fine. For all cooking, it is excellent. Pet is pure, rich, full-cream cow’s milk, with part of the natural water removed, then sterilized—that’s all. Milk at its Best! Try it and you will never be without it. Your grocer can supply you. Two sizes —tall and small. For Free book of Pet recipes, write to The Helvetia Company (Originators of the Evaporated Milk Industry) General Offices—St. Louis. Try this recipe Cocoa. 2’ tablespoons cocoa, 4 tablespoons sugar, | cup Pet Milk, 3 cups water, few grains salt. Scald milk diluted with two cups of the boiling water. Mix cocoa, sugar and salt; add a_half-cup boiling water and stir to make a smooth paste; then add remaining half-cup of water and boil one minute. Pour into scalded milk and beat thoroughly with Dover egg beater just before serving. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST April 29,1922 TET AE PTUETEOSTSTTTTVUIOOTOY TN EIEN YL O0) EP ELEPS EAE SSLUA SSOP EEDEDE AEST DIDS HTS SOSUL RID Mme E SH ARRUSUAREESASSDTRSUVTUHSSUSOSTHTUT MSHI ADSTOURUSUUAGRUELI FAIL REG. U, S. PAT. OFFICE

Page 95

(Continued from Page 90) bride was extended for the bride’s bouquet. The voice of the bride was not low and diffident. but high pitched, insistent. “Provisional? Provisional? What is it you are saying, sir? Are you asking me to be married in a provisional wedding? Am I to give all I have provisionally? Is my oath provisional, or his?” “‘Now, now, my dear!”’ began the minis- ter Her father broke out into a half-stifled oath. ““What do you mean?” Her mother’s face went pale under its red bronze. “T mean this,”” broke out the girl, still in the strained high tones that betokened her mental state: ‘I'll marry no man in any halfway fashion! Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t I think? How could I have forgotten? Law, organization, so ciety, convention, form, custom—haven’t I got even those things to back me? No? Then I've nothing! It was—it was those things—form, custom— that I was going te have to support me. I’ve got nothing else. Gone—they’re gone, too! And you ask me to marry him— provi- sionally—provisionally! Oh, my God! What awful thing was this? % I wasn’t even to have that solid thing to rest on, back of me, after it all was over!” They stood looking at her for } a time, trying to catch and weigh her real intent, to estimate what it might mean as to her actions. “Like images, you are!’ she went on_hysteri- cally, her physical craving for one man, her physical loathing of another driving her well- nigh mad. ‘You wouldn’t protect your own daugh- ter!’’ she cried out to her stupefied parents. ‘‘Must I think for you at this hour of my life? How near oh, how near! But not now not this way! No! No!” “What do you mean, Moily?”’ de- manded her father sternly. “Come now, we'll have no woman tantrumsat this stage! This goes on! They’re waiting !. He’s wait- ing!” “Let him wait!"’ cried the girl in sudden resolution. All her soul was in the ery, all her outraged, self- punished heart. Her philos- ophy fell from her swiftly at the crucial moment when she was to face the kiss, the em- brace of another man. The great inarticulate voice of her woman nature suddenly sounded, im- perative, terrifying, in her own ears—‘‘ Oh, Will Banion, Will Banion, why did you take away my heart?’’ And now she had been on the point of doing this thing! An act of God had intervened. Jesse Wingate nodded to the minister. They drew apart. The holy man nodded assent, hurried away—the girl sensed on what errand. : “No use!” she said. ‘I'll not!” Stronger and stronger in her soul surged the yearning for the dominance of one man, not this man yonder—a yearning too strong now for her to resist. “But, Molly, daughter,” her mother’s voice said to her, ‘‘girls has—girls does And like he said, it’s the promise, it’s the agreement they both make, with witnesses.” “Yes, of course,” her father chimed in. “Tt’s the consent in the contract when you stand before them all.” “T’ll not stand before them. consent! There is no agreement!” Suddenly the girl caught from her mother the pitiful little bride’s bouquet. “Look!” she laughed. ‘‘ Look at these!"’ One by one, rapidly, she tore out and flung down the folded gentian flowers. “Closed, closed! When the night came, they closed! They couldn’t! They couldn’t! I'll not—I can’t!” I don’t She had the hand’s clasp of mountain blossoms stripped down to a few small flowers of varied blooms. They heard the coming of the groom, half running. A silence fell over all the great encampment. The girl's father made a half step forward, even as her mother sank down, cowering, her hands at her face. Then, without a word, with no plan or purpose, Molly Wingate turned, sprang away from them and fled out into a night that was black indeed. Truiy she had but one thought, and that in negation only. Yonder came to claim her a man suddenly odious to her senses. It could not be. His kiss, his arms—if these were of this present time and place, then no place in all the world, even the world of savage blackness that lay about, could be so bad as this. At the test her philosophy had forsaken her, reason now almost as well, and sheer terrified flight remained her one reaction. She was gone, a white ghost in her wed- ding gown, her little slippers stumbling Unmindfaul of the Sullen Apathy of Men and Women, Jed Sang With His Cracked Lips as He Swung From One Jig to the Next breath b over the stones, her bingly as she ran. They followed her. Back of them, at the great fire whose illumination deepened the shadows here, rose a murmur, a rising of curious people, a pressing forward to the Wingate station. But of these none knew the truth, and it was curiosity that now sought answer for the delay in the antici- pated divertisement. Molly Wingate ran for some moments, to some distance—she knew of neither Then suddenly all her ghastly nightmare of terror found climax in a world of de- mons. Voices of the damned rose around her. There came a sudden shock, a blow Before she could understand, before she could determine the shadowy form that coming Ss THE SATURDAY EVENING POST rose before her in the dark, she fell forward like the stricken creature. Xxx TMHERE was no wedding that night at the Independence Rock. The Arapa- hoes saw io that. But there were burials the day following, six of them —two women, a child, three men. The night attack had caught the company wholly off guard, and the bright fire gave good illumination for shaft and ball. “Put out the fires! Corral! Corral!” Voices of command arose. The wedding guests rushed for the shelter of their own wagons. Men caught up their weapons and a steady fire at the unseen foe held the latter at bay after the first attack Indeed, a sort of panic seized the savages A warrior ran back exclaiming that he had seen a spirit, all in white, not running away from the attack, but toward them as they lay in cover. He had shot an arrow at the spirit, which then had vanished. It would be better to fall back and take no more like chances. For this reason the Wingate, pursuing her could, found her at last, lying face dow: in the grass, her arms outspread, her white wedding gown red with blood. An arrow, its shaft cracked by her fall, was embedded in her shoulder, driven deep by the savage bowman who had fired in fear at an object he did not recognize. So they found her, still alive, still unmutilated, still no prisoner. They carried the girl back to her mother, who reached out her arms and laid her down behind the barricaded wagon wheels “Bring mea candle, you!”’ she called to the nearest man. It chanced to be Sam Woodhull family of Moll, closely as they Soon a woman came with a light. “Go away now!” the mother commanded the disappointed man. He passed into the dark. The old woman opened the bodice over the girl’s heart, stripped away the stained lace that had served in three weddings on two sides of the Appalac hians, and so got to the wound “Tt’s in to the ~ she said. “It won't come out. Get me my scissors out of my bag. it’s hang ing right *side the se at, our wagon. “Ain’t there no doc tor?”’ she demanded, her own heart weakening now. But none could tell. A few women grouped around her come out of ‘It won't that little hole it went in, said stout Molly Wingate, not quite sobbing. ‘I got to cut it wider.” Silence held them as she finished the shreds of the ashen shaft and pressed to one side the stub of it. So with what tools she knew hest she cut into the fab ri of her owr weavilns out of her own blood and bone; cut mayhap ir teady snipping at her heart, pulling and wrenching until the flesh, own now growing purple, wa above the girl's Both arms », raised white breast. in their white sleeves, lay on the trodden grass mo tionless, and had not shock and strain left the victim unconscious the pain must now have done so. The sinew wrappings held the strap-iron head, wetted as they now were with blood The sighing surgeon caught the base of the arrowhead in thumb and finger. There was no stanching of the blood. She wrenched it free at last, and the blood gushed from a jagged hole which would have meant death in any other air or in any patient but the vital young. Now they disrobed the bride that was no bride, even as the rifle fire died away in the darkness. Women brought frontier drafts of herbs held sovereign, and laid her upon the couch that was not to have beer hers alone. She opened her eyes, moaning held out her arms to her mother, not to ar husband; and her mother, bloody, unnerve weeping, caught her to her bosom | } AVI ‘ ver mn a union | ich H t ry ~ " ‘ rHE HATCHWAY NO-BUTTON UNION SUIT for Men and Boys rb leg .F +} wh et I and y You ! ig ! ‘ y . crience i \ ] H ay \ Hat ) B I h range of W { tt Hy t r ' ‘ I al keey { " 1 Sea I ! t 4 f ! - trat tH way No-B { Ha 2) Button r Men's Nainsook Suits, $1, $1.50, $2, $3, $5 The $5 garment is all stl) Boys’ Nainsook Suits, $1, $1.25 Men's Knitted Suits, $1.50, $2. $4, $4.50 Boys’ Knitted Suits, $1, $1.25 FULD & HATCH KNITTING CO. Alban Vork K Mann STUDY THIS PICTURE A MOMENT y New York nittiac M / ron , Licensed

Page 96

THE RICE PROCESS WHITE Smooth—white— washable as tile A paint for walls and woodwork that resists dirt WHY do most white paints collect dirt so quickly? The surface of ordinary flat or egg-shell finish white paint is not actually smooth but full of countless pores microscopic holes in which dust and dirt cling. Barreled Sunlight produces a lustrous finish that is smooth and unbroken. This even surface resists the tiny dirt and dust particles. Marks or smudges cannot sink in. Walls and woodwork coated with Barreled Sunlight can be washed clean like tile—even after years of service. That is why this paint is being used today in build- ings of every description—office buildings, stores, hotels, apartment houses, schools and industrial plants. Ideal also for woodwork throughout the home and for the walls of kitchen, bathroom, laundry, etc. Made by the exclusive Rice Process, Barreled Sunlight is guaranteed to remain white longer than any gloss paint or enamel applied under the same conditions. Easy to apply. Flows freely and leaves no brush marks. Comes ready mixed in cans from half-pint to five-gallon size— barrels and half-barrels. If your dealer does not carry Barreled Sunlight com- municate with our nearest distributor. (See list below.) U. S. GUTTA PERCHA PAINT COMPANY Factory and main offices 8 DUDLEY STREET PROVIDENCE, R. I. New York —-Grand Central Terminal! Building Chicago—659 Washington Boulevard San Francisco —38 O'Farrell Street Distributed also by the following: Akron, Ohio—D. P. W. Company nweutne Lave. Roth Allentown, Pa.—Crowder Jr. Co Minneapolis — P. Walto Haltimore—The Fitschen-Morgan Co Mobile, Ala Mobile Building Supplies Co see agg Tenn eee Paint & Glass Co Newa . J. Hockenjos Co New Bedford, po —Wm. R. West New Haven, Conn Tooth & Law Co Philadeiphia—J. F. Small Watson, Hallett Co. owns Paint Co., Inc Churchill Drug Co C.—Ezell Pritchard Co it. M. Hooker Glass & Paint Co Cincinnati—Seaeger Winstel Co. Portland, Me.—F. M. Brown Paint Co Cleveland—Cleveland Window Glass & Door Portland, Ore.—Uhli Bros Co Richmond, Va. 7h McC Dayton, O.—Detscamp Paint & Glass Co. Rochester : B.R Boston Huffelo tee an neg eo Chartotte, N Chicago Buitingscn & Co aon per & Daly Detroit —Schroeder Paint & Glass Co. Salt Lake co ; Eric, Pa.—Erte Window Glass Co. San vrancier Ubi Br Pail River, Mass.—Borden & Remington Co Springnel $4. ass. ~Highiand Paint & Wall Paper St. ue % tondie-Bray Glass & Paint Co. Scranton, Pa.—Diamond Oil & Paint c o Seattle—Uhli Bree. A. Reeve & Co Syracuse, \ ve ton, N. J be ¥. Hooper & Co Fort Worth, Texas—Wm. Cameron & Co., Loc. Grand Rapids, Mich.—Henry J. Heystek Co, Harrisburg, Pa.—Henry Gilbert & Son Hartford, Cona,—Sissoa Drug Co Indianapoiis—W. H. Harbison Jamestowa, N. ¥.-—Peart City Paint & GlassCo Kansas City, Mo.—Doores Paint & Glas Y.—Chas. H. Dauchy Co. Company Tul a, “Okla. —Killmer Paint & Gene Co Knoxville, Tenn.—W. W. Woodruff Hdwe. Co, Utica, N. Y.—Chas. Miller & Son Lansing, Mich.—Silver Lead Paint Co Washington, D. C.—Hugh Reilly Co Lawrence, Mass.—Treat Hdwe. Corp. Waterbury, Conn.—Apothecaries Hall Co Little Rock, Ark Chas. T. Abetes Wichita, Kan.—Carl Graham Paint & Wall Los Angeles--Unt Bros Pape Lowell, Mass.—C. B. Coburn Co Worcester, Mass.—C. C. Lowell & Co. Memphis—E, P. Gilson & Co., Inc * Save the surface ang you save a ~ Tend ¥ ad % + s s% THE SATURDAY EVENING POST “My lamb! My, little lamb! Oh, dear me! Oh, dear me! The wailing of others for their dead arose. The camp dogs kept up-a continual bark- ing, but there was no other sound. The guards now lay out in the dark. A figure came creeping toward the bridal tent. “Is she alive? May I come in? Speak to me, Molly!” “*Go on away, Sam,” answered the voice of the older woman. “ You can’t come in.” “‘But is she alive? Tell me!’”’ His voice was at the door which he could not pass. “Yes, more’s the pity!”’ he heard the same voice say. But from the girl who should then have been his, to have and to hold, he heard no sound at all, nor could he know her fright- ened gaze into her mother’s face, her tight clutch on her mother’s hand. This was no place for delay. They made | graves for the dead, pallets for the wounded. | There was no timber here. At sunrise the train moved on, grim, grave, dignified and silent in its very suf- fering. There was no time for reprisal or revenge. The one idea as to safety was to move forward in hope of shaking off pur- suit. But all that morning and all that day the mounted Arapahoes harassed them. At many bends of the Sweetwater they paused and made sorties; but the savages fell back, later to close in, sometimes under cover so near that their tauntings could be heard. Wingate, Woodhull, Price, Hall, Kelsey | stationed themselves along the line of flank- ers, and as the country became flatter and more open they had better control of the pursuers, so that by nightfall the latter began to fall back. The end of the second day of forced marching found them at the Three Cross- ings of the Sweetwater, deep in a cheerless alkaline desert, and on one of the most depressing reaches of the entire journey. That night such gloom fell on their council as had not yet been known. “The Watkins boy died to-day,” said Hall, joining his colleagues at the guarded fire. ‘His leg was black where it was broke. They’re going to bury him just ahead, in the trail. It’s not best to leave head- boards here.”’ Wingate had fallen into a sort of apathy. For a time Woodhull did not speak to him after he also came in. “How is she, Mr. Wingate?” he at last. “She'll live?” “IT don’t know,” replied “Fever. No one can tell. doctor in one of the Iowa wagons. don’t know.’ Woodhull sat silent for a time, exclaimed at last, ‘‘But she will—she must! This shames me! We'll be married yet.” “Better wait to see if she lives or dies,” said Jesse Wingate succinctly. “T know what I wish,” said Caleb Price at last as he stared moodily at the coals, “and I know it mighty well—I wish the other wagons were up. Yes, and He did not finish. A nod or so was all the answer he got. A general apprehension held them ail. “If Bridger hadn’t gone on ahead, damn him!” exclaimed Kelsey at last. “Or if Carson hadn’t refused to come along instead of going on east,”’ assented Hall. ‘‘ What made him so keen?” Kelsey spoke morosely. “Said he had papers to get through. Maybe Kit Carson’ll sometime carry news of our being wiped out somewhere.” “Or if we had Bill Jackson to trail for us,” ventured the first speake r age ain. “If we could send back word - “We can’t, so what’s the use?” inter- rupted Price. ‘“‘We were all together, and had our chance— ’ asked the other. We found a He once, But buried as they were in their gloomy doubts, regrets, fears, they got through that night and the next in safety. They dared not hunt, though the buffalo and antelope were in swarms, and though they knew they now were near the western limit of the buffalo range. They urged on, mile after mile. The sick and the wounded must endure as they might. Finally they topped the gentle incline which marked the heights of land between the Sweetwater and the tributaries of the Green, and knew they had reached the South Pass, called halfway to Oregon. The Pass itself was no winding cafion, but only a flat, broad valley. Bolder views they had seen, but none of greater interest. Now they would set foot on Oregon, passing from one great series of waterways April 29, 1922 to another and even vaster, leading down to the western sea—the unknown South Sea marked as the limits of their posses- sions by the gallants of King Charles when, generations earlier, and care less of all these intervening generations of toil and danger, they had paused at the summit of Rockfish Gap in the Appalachians and waved a gay hand each toward the un- known continent that lay they knew not how far to the westward. But these, now arrived halfway of half that continent, made no merriment in their turn. Their wounded and their sick were with them. The blazing sun tried them sore. Before them also lay they knew not what. And now, coming in from the northeast in a vast braided tracing of travois poles and trampling hoofs, lay a trail which fear told them was that of yet another war party waiting for the white-topped wagons. It led on across the Pass. It could not be more than two days old. “It’s the Crows!” exclaimed Sam Wood- hull, studying the broad trail. ‘‘They’ve got their women and children with them.” ““‘We have ours with us,” said Caleb Price simply. Every man who heard him looked back at the lines of gaunt cattle, at the dust- stained canvas coverings that housed their families. They were far afield from home or safety. “Call Wingate. do,” e xe ‘le aimed Price again. to vote. They voted to go on, fault of any better Let’s decide what to ““We'll have plan. Some said Bridger’s post was not far ahead. A general impatience, fretful, querulous, manifested itself. Ignorant, many of these wanted to hurry on to Ore- gon, which for most meant the Willamette Valley, in touch with the sea, marked as the usual end of the great trek. Few knew that they now stood on the soil of the Oregon country. The maps and journals of Molly Wingate were no more forth- coming, for Molly Wingate no more taught the evening school, but lay delirious under the hothouse canvas cover that intensified the rays of the biazing sun. It was life or death, but by now life-and-death issue had become no unusual experience. It was August, midsummer, and only half the journey done. The heat was blind- ing, blistering. For days now, in the dry sage country, from the ford of the North Fork of the Platte, along the Sweetwater and down the Sandy, the white alkali dust had sifted in and over everything. Lips cracked open, hands and arms either were raw or black with tan. The wagons were ready to drop apart. A dull silence had fallen on the people, but fatuously follow- ing the great Indian trail they made camp at last at the ford of the Green River, the third day’s march down the Pacific Slope. No three days of all the siow trail had been harder to endure than these. “Play for them, Jed,’’ counseled Caleb Price when that hardy youth, leaving his shrunken herd, came in for his lunch that day at the ford. “Yes, but keep that fiddle in the shade, Jed, or the sun certainly will pop it open.”’ Jed’s mother, her apron full of broken bits of sagebrush, turned to see that her admonishment was heeded before she began her midday coffee fire. As for Jed himself, with a wide grin he crouched down at the side of the wagon and leaned against a wheel as he struck up a lively air, roaring joyously to his accompaniment: “Git out o’ the way, old Dan Tucker, You're too late to git yore supper!” Unmindful of the sullen apathy of men and women, the wailing of children stifling under the wagon tops, the moans of the sick and wounded in their ghastly dis- comfort, Jed sang with his cracked lips as he swung from one jig to the next, the voice of the violin reaching all the wagons of the shortened train. ‘Choose yore pardners!” rang his voice in the joyous jesting of youth. And marvel and miracle—then and there those lean brown folk did take up the jest, and laughingly gathered on thesun-seared sands. They formed sets and danced—danced a dance of the indomitable, at high noon, the heat blinding, the sand hot under feet not all of which were shod. Molly Wingate, herself fifty and full-bodied, cast down her firewood, caught up her skirt with either hand and made good an old-time jig to the tune of the violin and the roaring accompani- ment of many voices and of patted hands. (Continued on Page 97)

Page 97

I ee THE SATURDAY EVENING POST e/Amouncng Standardized Service bringing reduced prices for maintenance, new econ- omies in labor and parts,and an end to guess-work f= . OW comes the long-expected intro duction of Standardized Service. And Marmon is first to attain the me chanical perfections which make it possibl It is the climax of years of effort-—the Marmon is a nine year development! Since the inception of the “34” series of Marmon cars, Nordyke & Marmon Company has had but one object in view: to design and produc the most efficient and comfortable means of transportation at the lowest cost per mile. Phis goal has finally been reached. Nation-wick of thousands of 1920, enable us to oftet new-dav way of re records of upkeep costs 1921 and 1922 Marmor Standardized Service, the ducing operating costs to a minimum. Our plan is this: The national « rganization of Marmon distribu tors have joined 1n a co operative movement to idopt a known price for service. We are estab lishing We am te Marmon, by uniform published prices. wove beyond question that th | virtue of its inherent simplicity and ruggedness of design, costs less to own and operate than comparable cars. We prove that a Marmon ranks first economical operation, of all h ch grade cars, Wi have ba vf upon | i time studies of thousands of Marmons. Th of labor and material our Standardized Service new minimum n hours cost are entirely practical, not philanthropic \ fan profit is made than ever. on each job, but lower kor the first time in motor history, an ownel knows beforehand just what service costs. Higher mileage— Lowered cost Records show that there are 16 servic opera tions covering the average requirements and Now thes hours of constituting 859% of all maintenance. are reduced to a simple cost system: labor plus price of materials. } Take the most important item, for exampk We know that with reasonable care Marmons do not require rebuilding until after 35,000 to $0,000 miles of service. This enables the Mar mon distributor to give you a contract with each Marmon of the later series, agreeing to completely rebuild the motor at any time necessary, in 55 hours’ actual labor. The total cost for labor and materials does not exceed $265.* This incluck compl te re placeme nt of all part habl fo wear except crankshaft bearings, as 1 rds show that } Read “Moder they do not wear within this mileage. about this remarkable contract mn Pranspor ation Cost ee a booklet ent to ill who mai! us the coupon on this page. kor the other 15 averaue ervice operation u“ likewise establish actual standardized price based on new efficiencies. Thus we insure every owner the lowest operating sts in the hi for of The Foremost Fine Car. Learn the details Marmon is able to make this revolutionary an nouncement, the details of which will amaze you hecau t has establishe 1 positive, un Ci ( ] ; ( i lisputa (y e , dependability and econ omy du to inherent simplicity of design of it ( ] ble records for long-life ; six-cylinder motor, wonce rful, vibration to its sturdy chassis, due to superfine material ne nd higher : lards of . t and higher standards of manufacture, 1 very car ownet will he infensely intereste this startling, but inevitable » Ueve lopm« nt of Standardized Service. sO OW have prepared a complete book] titled “Modern ‘Transportation Costs.” It cribes Standardized Service We send it fi to all who ask. Merely mail the coupol 1} : facts will give you a new bas of comput yperating cost You will learn a wa \ j if ir at a lower cost. Send for tl ho it ci ot put 1 under th lightest ol tion It Ol tribution to a better i mot ! NorpyKke & Marmon Company ~ Established INDIANAPOLI ' ( MARMON he Foremost Fine (Car *Prices on Pacific Coast 10% additiona | e re |

Page 98

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST April 29, 1922

i = a NN Nt Se ee Ne) T- 20 am 00 ae oo oe ae ee rr —x7) °,

Democracy! All America has come into the silk stocking class. Because of its remarkable economy, Phoenix has been an im- portant factor in bringing hosiery elegance within the reach of all. Long strands of the sturdiest silk, woven by the Phoenix method, have given it the great mile- age endurance. And for men, women and children it holds good looks to the end of its long journey.

| PHOEN TX ri O S laa

ey ARE ——7 ye ER ey PHOENDY, BAZ \ 7 > \SS j fg \ = Nn yet, \\\ } ~ | SS DY a wills FAS

Pil Waukee

Page 99

t SS ) } (Continued from Page 94) She paused at length, dropping her calico from between her fingers, and hastened to a certain wagon side as she wiped her face with her apron. “Didn’t you hear it, Molly?” she de- manded, parting the curtain and looking in. “Yes, I did. I wanted—I almost wanted to join. Mother, I almost wanted to hope again. AmItolive? Where are we now?” “By a right pretty river, child, and eena’most to Oregon. Come kiss your mother, Molly. Let’s try.” Whereupon, having issued her orders and set everyone to work at something efter her practical fashion, the first lady of the train went frizzling her shaved buf- falo meat with milk in the frying pan; grumbling that milk now was almost at the vanishing point, and that now they wouldn't see another buffalo; but always getting forward with her meal. This she at last amiably announced: “Well, come an’ git it, people, or I'll throw it to the dogs.” Flat on the sand, on blankets or odds and ends of hide, the emigrants sat and ate, with the thermometer— had they had one—perhaps a hundred and ten in the sun. The men were silent for the most part, with now and then a word about the ford, which they thought it would be wise to make at once, before the river per- chance might rise, and while it still would not swim the cattle. “We can’t wait for anyone, not even the Crows,”’ said Wingate, rising and end- ing the mealtime talk. ‘‘Let’s get across.” Methodically they began the blocking up of the wagon bodies to the measurement established by a wet pole. “Thank the Lord,” said Wingate, ‘‘they'll just clear now if the bottom is hard all the way.” One by one the teams were urged into the ticklish crossing. The line of wagons was almost all at the farther side when all at once the rear guard came back, spurring. THE SATURDAY “Corral! Corral!” he called. He plunged into the stream as the last driver urged his wagon up the bank. A rapid dust cloud was approaching down the valley. “Indians!” “Corral, men! corral!” They had not much time or means to make defense, but with training now be- come second nature they circled and threw the dusty caravan into the wonted barri- cade, tongue to tail gate. The oxen could not all be driven within, the loose stock was scattered, the horses were not on picket lines at that time of day; but driving what stock they could, the boy herders came in at a run when they saw the wagons parking. There was no time to spare. The dust cloud swept on rapidly. It could not spell peace, for no men would urge their horses at such pace under such a sun save for one purpose—-to overtake this party at the ford. “It's Bill Jackson!” Price, rifle in hand, at the river’s edge. **Look out, men! Don’t shoot! Wait! There's fifty Indians back of him, but that’s Jackson ahead. Now what's wrong?” The riddle was not solved even when the called out a dozen voices. For God’s sake, quick exclaimed Caleb scout of the Missouri train, crowded ahead | by the steady rush of the shouting and laughing savages, raised his voice as though in warning and shouted some word, un- intelligible, which made them hold their fire. The wild cavalcade dashed into the stream, crowding their prisoner—he was before them, bent him, guns ready. They were stalwart, naked men, wide of jaw, great of chest, not a woman or child among them, all painted and full armed. “My God, men!”’ called Wingate, hasten ing under cover. “Don’t let them in! Don't let them in! It’s the Crows!” no less (TO BE CONTINUED) ONCE Al SLOGANEER=— (Continued from Page 13 Mr. Bowser frankly groaned. “Primrose Farm! I see where I'm going to have one merry time.” “It’s that or the scrap heap,” the doctor assured him. “‘Ned, you’ve got me scared,” said Mr. Bowser. “I’m afraid your diagnosis is right; I have advanced sloganitis. But I don’t think lying around a farm or any- where else will cure it.” Doctor Harter made disgust. “Wait, Ned!” cried Mr. Bowser. ‘ You win. It’s true. I don’t own this business. It owns me, But Nothing Can Break A Bowser. I’m Going To Be My Own Boss Hereafter, Not The Servant of Phrases. Lead on to Primrose Farm!”’ “That's the spirit,’ said the doctor, turning back from the door. “I promise,”’ said Mr. Bowser solemnly, “not to think of slogans for a month. My mind will lie fallow. I want to come back here Charged With The Electricity Of Life.” Automatically he reached for the thick notebook to jot down the happy phrase. With a smile Doctor Harter snatched it from him, threw it into a desk drawer, and slammed the drawer shut. “‘No, youdon’t!"’saidthedoctor. ‘From this second I hold you to your promise. Conquer this thing. Don’t let sloganitis put you down and out.” “You Can’t Put A Bowser Out,” said the owner of that name, taking his hat a handsome example of Handhewn Hed- gear—Class Yet Dignity. “‘You Might As Well Try To Put Out The Sun.” “Cut that,” warned the doctor. ““Sorry,” apologized Mr. Bowser. ‘‘ Rome Wasn’t Built In A Day, Nor New York Razed In A Night.” “Cut that out,’’ growled Doctor Harter as he hurried Mr. Bowser into the elevator. as if to leave in mu J SANFORD BOWSER was in the sixth eJ. day of his rustication at Primrose Farm, Clinton Valley, in Dutchess, fairest of counties. In a tweed suit, shaggy as a collie, he sat at breakfast in the pleasant old-fashioned dining room with Miss Evelina Venable, who was sixty, and Miss Cornelia Venable, who was sixty-one. The air of repose was well-nigh perfect. Mr. Bowser had napped, dozed and slept liberally since his arrival, and he was calmer than when we undressed him in his office, but hardly more con tented. Only that morning as he tied hi tie he had to check himself in the midst of announcing to a redwinged blackbird out side his window, ‘‘ Bowser Totters On The Brink Of Boredom.” The two sisters wore that look of serenity seen only on the faces of the simple-hearted And yet on this morning, sunlit though it was, that serenity seemed to be struggling with worry. Mr. Bowser might have no ticed this had he not just then been very busy with the strawberries and cream He was flooding his second helping of ber- ries with thick yellow cream from the blue willow-pattern pitcher. Miss Eve lina looked at Miss Cornelia and sighed Miss Cornelia looked at Miss Evelina and sighed. Mr. Bowser looked up at both of them interrogatively. “I beg pardon?” he said. “Oh, nothing,” said Miss Evelina. “Oh, nothing,”’ said Miss Cornelia. “Man Does Not Sigh For Nothing,” he declared, choosing a berry as big as an egg ‘What's wrong?” The sisters looked embarrassed. “‘Cornelia is worried about the berries,” said Miss Evelina. “Evelina is worried about the said Miss Cornelia. ““Worried about these berries?”’ said Mr. Bowser. ‘‘Why, Each Is A Garden's Mas terplece - “Tt’s not the berries themselves,”’ said Miss Evelina shyly. ‘‘It’s the market.” “‘O-ho,”’ said Mr. Bowser. It was all he could say from a berry-crowded mouth “You see,”’ explained Miss Evelina tim- idly, ‘‘Cornelia and I—we depend on our berries.” “O-ho,” said Mr. Bowser again. “You see,” explained Miss Cornelia, ‘if the berry market fails us again we'll have to give up Primrose Farm.” “We shouldn't like to do that,”’ added Miss Evelina. **What’s wrong with the berry market?”’ asked Mr. Bowser. “The man in New York we usually sell them to,” said Miss Evelina, ‘‘won’t take them this year. He says he can get them cheaper in New Jersey.” berries,” bows back of EVENING POST Arno GLOVE-G ig 97 J {i Put your feet at ease! \RING Wigon lifts up the arche leet Glove like Grip feature Grip Shoes 1 Phe of your feet instead of pushing giving holiday (slove them down Fatigue disappear The cause of most for che removed And the old idea--that comfortable shoes must be unconventional in shape is knocked sky-high! Glove Grips are as good to look at as they are to wear. They combine style with comfort in a manner that ¢ innot be duplicated im any other hoe made. Phe Glove Grip idea ts patented Note men's oxford shown above Conserva tive in its general atmosphere but with a touch of distinetion that marks its wearer as being fash ionably shod Below i spring model for women—the Vassar. It gracelt | lin : have arou ed enthu hasm wherever it has been shown rir st cla dealers every whe re are now display ing the and other Glove Grip models for men and women If your dealer doeS not carry them, we will gladly send you the name of one who does, together with an attractive miniature catalog M. N. ARNOLD SHOE North COMPANY Abington, Massachusetts { RIP SHOES Hy

Page 100

“The Most Interesting Development in Golf —since the rubber core bal The Bristol Steel Golf Shaft is the successful result of years of experiment in the effort to produce a golf shaft that would be equal to the finest hickory. the Bristol Steel Golf Shaft it puts the weight Lighter than hickory, makes a better balanced club When you take hold of it, it in all where it ought to be. feels weather, will not corrode and is unaffected by ch shaft. right--it possesses the same “whip” n at conditions. It is a handsomely finished Patents co by us. NOTICE: Basic and Supplementary cring teel Golf Shafts are controlled exi } aa lusively Good hickory is growing scarcer, as everybody The Bristol Steel Golf Shaft is the equal of in every particular. Give it a trial and convince yourself. Ask your “ Pro.” it. Have him fit the Bristol Steel Golf Shaft to one of your old clubs or buy a new club equipped with it. Golf Shops and Sporting Goods Dealers: A great deal of interest is being shown by golfers every where in the new Bristol Steel Golf Shaft. Tt will this new source of revenue. knows the finest hickory about pay you to investigate Golf Clubs fitted with Bristol Steel Golf Shafts can now be supplied by = The Crawford, McGregor and Canby Co., Dayton, y f Vie u Ohio, The Hillerich Fish 7 “, and Bradsby Louis ville, Ky. then you know Bristol . . ; ; . Write for our des¢ rip Steel bishing Rods you ei ° | mee ive circular giving us know them as the stand 5 the name of vour golf ard; the rods demanded club and_ professional, The Horton Mfg. Co. 441 Horton St., used by real fisher rods which give and men; the maximum satisfaction in Bristol, Conn. all kinds of game fishing. Bristol Steel kish guaranteed tn very ing Rod is workmanship and ma terial. No. 16, Cork Handle ‘Bristol’ Trout Rod, 9 feet long, can be pur chased from your dealer for $5.50, or it will be sent to-.you direct by us tor the same price, postpaid. Write for Bristol, Meck and King fis/ } ing Catalogue THE SATURDAY | trumpet. EVENING POST “But not better,” said Miss Cornelia proudly. “I should say net!’’ agreed Mr. Bowser. “Best I ever put a tongue to.” He balanced a truly remarkable berry on his spoon and asked, “How much did he pay?” **Six cents.” “A berry?” “No; a quart.” Mr Bowser looked horrified. “Six cents a quart for be Tries like this? Why, I’ve paid sixty for worse. “I'm afraid sister and I are not very good business people,”’ said Miss Evelina, blushing. “But they are fine berries, we think,” said Miss Cornelia, also blushing. “Why, it ought to be worth six cents just to see a quart of berries like these,” declared Mr. Bowser. “The man in New York said,”’ remarked Miss Evelina, ‘“‘that berries are be rries, and that they all look alike to him.’ “‘He did, did he?” said Mr. Bowser, and a sudden gle am, which might have been the sometimes me ntioned gleam of battle, came to his blue eyes. ‘‘He did, did he? He ceased eating berries and leaned his brow on his hand a full minute. Then he raised his head and cried “I have it.” “You have what, Mr. Bowser?”’ ‘The punch idea!” He checked himself. He was thinking of his promise to Doctor Harter. He gazed wistfully at the berries. He ate one. He thought how bored he had been just doing nothing. He ate another berry. He gazed at the faces of the Misses Venable and read in them a growing concern. He ate an- other berry. He slapped his hand down on the table; the plates and the two sisters jumped. “Sorry,” apologized Mr. Bowser. “But really this idea is too good to lose.” ‘What idea?” ** About your berries.” “Our berries?” “Yes. I know what they need.” ‘“‘What? More cream? More sugar?”’ “No,” cried Mr. Bowser in the voice of a “Individuality.” The sisters exchanged uncomprehending glances. “Why, ladies,’ exclaimed Mr. Bowser, his nostrils distending like those of a vet- eran fire horse scenting smoke, ‘look here! These Berries Are Gems. They Belong In A Queen’s Necklace. Why, New York is full of connoisseurs who'd gladly pay a dime apiece for such berries. Wait! I have it! I have it! “The Connoisseur’s Berry. A Dime Each—And Worth It. Each In Its Own Individual Container.’ Look, ladies, look!’ Excitedly he rummaged through his pockets and fished out an old envelope. With fingers that trembled he tore it and folded it into a small cornucopia. Into this he popped a berry and, with a twist, sealed it in. “There!” he cried, waving it before their astonished noses. ‘‘Behold! ‘The Con- noisseur’s Berry. So Rare We Won’t Sell More Than Twenty Berries To One Fam- ily.’ Not bad, eh? We'll print that on each wrapper. Look here, Miss Evelina, Miss Cornelia, how long does the berry season last?” ‘Only a few more weeks,” they told him. “We must work fast.”” The words were popping from Mr. Bowse r so fast that they tripped on one anothe a 8 heels. ‘“‘Is there a printer in this town? “I believe Mr. Wibber, of the Clinton Valley Clarion, does printing for folks,” said Miss Evelina. ‘‘A job press. Might be worse,” said Mr. Bowser, speaking crisply, incisively All trace of ennui was gone now. “Here, you, Miss Evelina, get Wibber on the phone at once and tell him to come right up here with samples of colored paper He caught himself, for he saw that the sisters were looking at him curiously. “Oh, I beg your pardon, really,” he said. “I’m very sorry. Forgot myself, Habit of mine to be bossy when I’m in a hurry. Will you please, Miss Evelina, ask Mr. Wibber to come up here as rapidly as the good Lord will let him. Ask him, please, to bring colored paper. Bright yellow preferably.” “What for?”’ asked Miss Cornelia. “You'll see,” said Mr. Bowser mysteri- ously. ‘Now let me have a pencil and a wad of copy paper. Please.’”’ He added this word as an afterthought. “Doctor Harter said you weren’t to have them,” protested Miss Cornelia. April 29,1922 “Hang Doctor Harter! I beg your par- don. I mean I’m sure he won’t mind, now that I’m rested up a bit.” His tone was so exigent that Miss Cor- nelia produced paper and pencil. He al- most snatched them from her hands, and the gleam noted before grew even brighter in his blue eyes as he poised the pencil over the paper. ‘The man said berries are berries, eh?” he said aloud to himself. ‘Berries are berries, eh? All alike, eh? We'll see. ‘Most Berries Are Just Berries. Venable ~ arries Are Precious Jewels—Each Berry Gets A Mother’s Tender Care.’ Not bad that. Not bad.” He was still writing industriously when Mr. Wibber, the printer, arrived with the yellow paper. Five days after Mr. Wibber arrived at Primrose Farm with his yellow paper, and had a long, head-to-head talk with Mr. Bowser, the roadster of Dr. Ned Harter snorted angrily up to the door of Primrose Farm, and Doctor Harter stamped angrily up the porch steps, rang angrily at the bell, and demanded angrily to see Mr. Bowser. He found Mr. Bowser at the telephone, and at Mr. Bowser’s elbow was a pile of what anyone could tell were proofs fresh from the printer and exhaling the pungent perfume of printer’s ink. As Doctor Harter burst into the room he heard Mr. Bowser saying, ‘Is this Parker & Rexford, Fifth Avenue’s Famous Fruit- erers? This is Mr. Bowse or, sales manager for Venable’s Connoisseur’s Berries. Sorry, Mr. Parker, but we can’t let you have more than ten thousand. Quality product, you know. . No, I didn’t say ten thousand quarts. You buy ordi- nary berries by the quart. I said ten thousand berries. . . . Yes, a nickel each, wholesale. Fixed retai! price, a dime each. . . . You can use ten thousand a week till the season closes? Good! First shipment will reach you to-morrow. See our ad in the morning papers? Glad you liked it. “hanks. G’-by.” He hung up the receiver just before Doctor Harter bounded across the room to tear it from his hand. ‘**What the devil is the meaning of this? roared Doctor Harter. ““What?” asked Mr. Bowser, trying to look innocent. For reply Doctor Harter slammed down on the table a New York morning news- paper. “Do you think I can’t read?”’ demanded the doctor heatedly. ‘‘Do you think I don’t know the fine hand of Bowser when I see it?” Mr. Bowser wriggled a bit sheepishly in his chair. “Couldn't mured. ‘*Listen to this,” in a fine passion. “BERRIES ARE BERRIES,” said the old-fashioned fruit man. But he Most Berries are Just Berries. But VENABLE BERRIES are the Pre- cious Jewels of Berrydom. Each berry gets a mother’s tender care. That’s why the new sensation is called Venable’s CONNOISSEUR BERRY The biggest, most luscious, most deli- cious mouthful that ever delighted the pal- ate of mortal man! Each in a sanitary, dust-proof yellow wrapper, with the Venable Seal of Superi- ority stamped on it. None genuine with- out the signature, E. & C. VENABLE, PRIMROSE FARM. On sale at a few of the most select of the fine fruit stores. Look for the Berry in the Yellow Kimono. A Dime EACH Doctor Harter slapped the paper down hard and glared at Mr. Bowser. ‘Again I ask,”’ he said, ‘‘what the devil do you mean?’ “That ad sold ninety thousand berries,”’ said Mr. Bowser meekly. “And gave you a relapse of sloganitis!”’ roared the doctor. “It put the Venable Berry On The Map,” said Mr. Bowser. “It may put you off the map,” said the doctor hotly. ‘Now, see here, Bowse. I’m going to cure you in spite of yourself. Primrose Farm is a failure.” (Continued on Page 100 ” resist temptation,’”’ he mur- bellowed Doctor Harter He read from the paper: was wrong. Dead wrong! AND WortTH IT.

Page 101

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST NEW YORK’S COPPER SKY-LINE ONTRIBUTING a touch of subdued color that has a most striking effect, Copper is the predominating roofing ma- terial in New York’s new sky-line. On every side is visible the old-green tone that gives the Copper roof its quiet and lasting beauty. Of course, the element of color is only incidental. For Copper is used because it is the best roofing material. In these prominent structures, representing the best architec- tural experience and the greatest thrift, Copper is the favored metal in the interior as well. In the plumbing pipes, Brass, Copper’s principal alloy, is used. In the hardware, doors, grilles, railings, Copper’s greater dura- bility and beauty are utilized in Brass or Bronze. Copper, Brass and Bronze resist rust as no other metals do. Copper products are not expensive, for they are everlasting; they save you costly repairing and replacing of short-lived sub- stitutes; they extend the useful life of the building, and thus earn much more than their cost. In skyscraper or cottage—Copper, Brass and Bronze are cheaper because you pay for them only ONCE COPPER ano BRASS RESEARCH ASSOCIATION 25 Broadway, New York For Home Builders —FREE COPPER AND BRASS RESEARCH ASS’N, Building Service Dept., 25 Broadway, N. Y. Please send me without charge my copy of your book, ‘‘How to Build a Better Home.”’ Name Street and Number City

Page 102

100 [2 a8» The Fesler Style M-88& TYLE of unusual distinction gives The Florsheim Shoe that exclusive look desired by well-dressed men. Character is expressed in every detail, and Florsheim quality gives fine style, long life. Shoes Skeleton Lined and Florsheim Lou an Non-slip they fit the ankle and hug the heel The Florsheim Shoe, $10—A few styles, $ and $12 Booklet “Styles of the Times”’ on request THE FLORSHEIM SHOE COMPANY Chicago Manufacturers the man Sees aaa jor “who Carer rm 4 Is Foot Comfort Worth a Dollar? When you come home feeling mis erable and all tired out, with aching, swollen feet, you probably feel as though you'd pay anything to have well feet again. Anything rather than that pain in the ankle and instep, the burning in the soles, all the troubles that come from fallen arches and weakened conditions of the feet. You can get foot comfort easily and quickly—for only a dollar. Jung's ** Wonder "’Arch Braces have aided thou sands of such cases as yours. They help the feet by holding in place the smal! muscles between the bones of the feet They correct fallen arches Relieve foot strain. Overcome pain in knees, legs and heels. No matter what appliances or 7 you have used, +p should try a pair of Jung's “ mder’’ Arch Braces. ‘Superlastik,”’ light and porous, but Enable you to stand or walk for hours Money back if they Price $1 per pair Made of special firm and durable without tired and aching feet don't make your fect feel better. (Canada $1.50). If your shoe dealer, druggist, surgical dealer or chiropodist can’t supply you, order direct Write Today for Our Free Book Contains valuable information about the feet. Illustrated with X-Ray views. Tells how to relieve and prevent foot ills and get genuine foot comfort. New edition just off the press. Send for your copy today—no obligation involved. The Jung Arch Brace Company 462 Jung Bldg., Cincinnati, Ohio Dealers—Ask for details of our trial offer ‘The Original” ARCH BRACES Naggqnnanannwewwn sig, ie aa Leek for this Trade -Mark It protect you agains tmitations THE SATURDAY EVENING POST FLORSHEIM SHOE (Continued from Page 98) “Tt is not,’’ denied Mr. Bowser. “It’s on the map now. Miss Evelina and Miss Cornelia are fixed for life.” “T mean as a rest place for you,” re- turned Doctor Harter. ‘It’s too civilized. Too near New York. Too many tempta- tions for a weak-willed sloganeer. Pack up your things.” “Why “You sail to-night for Opipee.”’ “What's that? Trade name?” “No. It’s an island.” “Where?” “Never mind. No white men there. “No white men? Oh, doctor -——” “Not one. The natives are bay. They don’t know a word of English. But they’re peaceable. You're to live there like a prim- itive man.” “T’m no Robinson Crusoe.” “Neither was he, till he was cast away,” said the doctor grimly. “But, Ned —— “What?” “T don’t believe it’s rest I It’s wild and primitive. need, after all. “I’m the doctor, not you. Do as I say. You promised you’d try to beat slogan- itis.”” ‘““A Bowser Promise Steel,” said Mr. Bowser. “Cut out that stuff.” Is Like Forged “Sorry. I slipped.” “Come. Pack up.” “Oh, all right,”’ said Mr. Bowser wear- | ily. ‘Weeping Judas, doc, but you're the natives, masterful.” “Then you'll keep up your fight?” “Until The Moon Falls Into Hoboken,” promised Mr. Bowser. They spun away in the doctor’s car, while the Misses Venable, simultaneously tearful and radiant, waved their best cam- bric handkerchiefs after the departing Mr. Bowser. Ae of successively smaller steam- ships landed J. Sanford Bowser on the pelm-fringed coral strands of the remote and all but unknown isle of Opipee, with a vast quantity of impedimenta and a grouch. He pitched his tent—it was a Beazleigh Tent—‘“‘Canvas of Unbelievable Durabil- ity’”’—and arranged his array of glittering camp utensils, took out his pipe, lit it, sat down on the i ““Now,” he said, “‘for a real rest.’ Fora long, long’ time he sat there itis out toward the horizon where his ship had disappeared. “Now,” he said again, ‘‘for a real rest.’ And yet, somehow, the words did not ring right. The suspicion forced its way into his brain that for him resting was the hardest kind of work. He got rid of this thought only by going to bed and to sleep. Next day the mood of the night before was still with him, and despite his resolu- tion to take things easy at any cost it was with a blue mien that he set forth for a stroll of inspection of the island, where for a month he was to be a voluntary Robinson Crusoe. The island, clearly, was all that Doctor Harter had represented it to be in regard to primitiveness. As Mr. Bowser remarked to himself as he made his leisurely way along, “It Is As Devoid Of Traces Of Civilization As A Fish Is Of Pajamas.” Nothing met his roving blue eyes but sky, sea, beach and trees. Finally he located the remnant of some tribe, very dark-brown, very aloof, and appar- ently of a philosophic temperament. They lived in a tiny settlement of thatched huts deep in the island jungle. They pursued, if one may use a word denoting motion, the simple life. As a matter of fact they lay about and let the simple life come to them. Reclining on contented backs in the shade, they let Nature take its course and grow things for them to eat. Now and then with an ab- normal burst of energy they overtook an earthworm in its flight, put it on a hook and let it dangle in the water, the line tied to one big brown toe. Then they slept the sleep of the virtuous until some way ward fish consumed the bait and twitched them into consciousness, whereupon they yawned, reeled in the line, yawned, and devoured the fish on the spot, spurning the formality of cooking it as an effete affecta- tion. Mostly they slept. Their spoken tongue, indeed, resembled a series of snores. a | When Mr. Bowser greeted them with a loudly genial ‘‘ Hello” they responded with April 29,1922 an affable snore, and edged off deeper into the bush. “‘Chummy little place,” observed Mr. Bowser to a scarlet cockatoo on a bread- fruit tree. It was the end of his tenth day on Opipee. Truth to tell, Mr. Bowser was finding rest and solitude not at all to his liking. “Chummy,”’ “Restful. You must admit that. restful, for those who like to rest. Place W here Sleep Was Discovered.’ bad, that.’ He continued to pace along the beach. “A lot of men—tired business fellows would like to know about so restful a spot as this,”’ he observed a little later to a land crab that was scuttling along the shore. ‘“‘Where Mother Nature Takes Man, Her Son, To Her Bosom. Wish I'd brought my notebook.” For the first time since his arrival a smile decorated his face. “Nothing Here But Atmosphere,’’ he remarked; and then, brightening markedly, 3y Judas, it rimes! You could set it in two lines: hesaidironically, but added, Really ‘The Not Nothing Here But Atmosphere.” On he paced. “No,” he said a minute later. ‘‘I must cut that stuff out. I must not Fall A Vic- tim To Verbiage.” As the words bounced against the palm trees and echoed in his ears he shrugged his shoulders with a hopeless shrug. “Did it again,”’ he muttered. He marched onward along the beach. “T’ll think of the trees,’”’ he said. He eyed them defiantly, as if he dared them to inspire him. ‘‘ Musical-comedy trees,’ he mused. Then from his mouth came the words, “‘The Only Sound Is The Whispering Of These Cool Green Sentinels to Nature’s Paradise. Not bad, that. Could have it set in 18-point Caslon under a good half-tone of that clump of coconut palms. Jove! I’ve done it again.” He clenched his fists resolutely. “T’ll watch the sunset,”’ he said between tight teeth. He sat on a rock and concen- trated his gaze on the semitropical sun, very much as a cat watches a mouse hole. The sun slipped down, mingling its molten gold with the glowing pink of the clouds. ‘Like Celestial Strawberry Ice Cream,” said Mr. Bowser, and clapped his hand to his lips. The sun seemed to leer at him seduc- tively. Temptation beset him sore. A sigh shook his whole body. He was acutely miserable. Then rebellion broke loose. His mind and body seemed simultaneously to stiffen. He stood up on the rock and faced the setting sun. “T like to make ~ + ” he shouted. “T like to, do you hear? And I’m going to make ‘em! I’m going to make ’em!” The cloud lifted from his brow as he pronounced the words. He looked the ee sun squarely in the eye, and in that bell-toned voice his clients and associates knew so well he declaimed: ‘‘Here In This Zephyr Fanned Isle Of Repose, Diamond-Studded Night Succeeds Soft, Glorious Day. When New York Streets Are Deep In Snow Slip Away To Opipee, The Magic Isle Where The Sun Is Ever Kind. It Turns That Oh-What’s- The-Use Feeling Into An I’m-Glad-I’m- Alive Feeling. Write For Free Literature.” He sprang to his feet and ran down the beach as fast as he could run. He dashed up all but breathless to the native settle- ment. The astonished blacks, languidly munching an evening meal of breadfruit from a common pot, saw his face red from running and alive with excitement. Had they understood English they’d have heard J. Sanford Bowser shouting with all his lungs: “Wake Wake Up! The Map!” Up, You Black Dumb-Bells! I’m going to Put Opipee On Iv NE month to a day after J. Sanford Bowser had for the first time swept a glum eye over the charms of Opipee, Dr. Ned Harter came to get his patient. Doc- tor Harter’s launch lurched through the surf to the strand of Opipee, and the doctor was so violently in a hurry to catch Mr. Bowser in the act of resting that he leaped into the thigh-deep water and waded lust- ily to land. “Bowser!” he boomed. “ Bowser! Where are you?” No voice replied; trace of Mr. Bowser. nowhere was there a

Page 103

With anxious eye he surveyed the spot where he had left Mr. Bowser pitching his tent. Something had happened there, something sudden and violent. Where the camp had been were evidences that it had been uprooted, wiped out. There were the charred embers of the last Bowserian camp fire; there were the tent pegs still in the ground; but the tent had been ripped from them. Doctor Harter’s alarmed lips framed the word “Typhoon.” Then he shook his head; he knew that that tranquil isle knew naught of typhoons. An even more alarm- ing suspicion shot across his brain. Canni- bals!’ Had the natives by some strange stimulus been pricked from their torpor and changed, overnight, into man-eaters? It was possible. ““Atavism,”’ groaned Doctor Harter aloud. “Poor Bowser! And I’m to blame. I’m to blame.”” He stood there on the beach, undecided. He lifted his eyes to the rows of coconut palms that marked the jungle’s beginning. Then his eyes protruded a good half*inch from his head as if his grand- father’s ghost had darted into his ken. In bold relief against the dark green of the trop ical trees was something that leaped out to meet his astonished eyes. It was a sign. It appeared to be made of what was once a dark-brown canvas tent. It bore, in inex- pert but unmistakable letters of white, this legend: THIS IS OPIPEE “NATURE'S PLAYGROUND” Rest In Its NOURISHING AIR ERECTED BY THE OPIPEE CHAMBER OF COMMERCE J. SANFORD BOWSER PUBLICITY DIRECTOR Doctor Harter stood on the beach, in capable of motion or articulation. At one and the same second he experienced the emotions of relief, amusement and anger. He was reading the sign for a third time, and was so absorbed in it that he did not see a number of dark figures moving toward him down the beach in single file until they passed within a dozen feet of him. They were natives, brown and glistening as re- cently shined tan shoes, and they walked with heads high and with the step of men of importance. They were naked save for something which was not exactly a garment but which covered them from neck to knees, before and behind. To the confused brain of Doctor Harter the significance of the odd garments did not, for sec- onds, become apparent. But as the natives passed quite near in dignified procession, light struck him. some They were sandwich men. Their gar- ments were signboards The signs they bore were made from odds and ends of packing cases and flat pieces of driftwood, and in the same bold lettering of the canvas sign they bore various legends: FREE EVERY EVENING GORGEOUS SUNSET FREE DRINK DEEP OF THE STIMULATING ATMOSPHERE No EXTRA CHARGE TELL YOUR FRIENDS OPIPEE MADE A NEW MAN OF YOU BOOST OPTPEE OUTPUT A MILLION CocoNUTS By 1925 And there were a dozen more in similar vein, each carried by a proudly solemn native. Doctor Harter said something between his teeth, and then strode down the beach toward the gap in the forest line from which issued the procession. Down a trail beaten through the jungle by countless bare feet, and quite recently trimmed and widened by hatchets, he could see the little clump of native huts. A sign on a tree at the trail’s start caught his eye. It read: STRAIGHT AHEAD TO BOWSER CITY “WATCH US GROW” With swift steps the doctor made his irate way toward the group of rude thatched huts. Just outside the hamlet, at the be- ginning of the crooked path that was the THE SATURDAY stake: FIFTH AVENUE Sprep Laws ENForcED AUTOMOBILE CLUB OF OPIPER Doctor Harter approached the first house, a tumble-down one-room hovel of straw and mud. Its door was all but obscured by a gay sign made, an acute observer might surmise, with pot black on a man’s white linen shirt. This sign read: THE MARLBOROUGH-BowsER ARMS A HOSTELRY OF MARKED SUPERIORITY” AMERICAN & EUROPBAN PLAN J. S. Bowser, Prop. The next hut, more dilapidated, if pos- sible, than the first one, bore a sign made obviously from a linen trouser leg, and lettered in clarion letters: First NATIONAL BANK oF Bowser City RELIABLE AS THE OCEAN'S TIDES SOLID AS THE Rocky MouNTAINS” PLANT YOUR MONEY HERE; We'LL MAKE I1 GROW Doctor Harter shook his head partly in awe, partly in anger, and compressed his lips. viously the other trouser leg. This hut was the largest in the village, and from its size presumably the residence of the chief. The sign read: OPIPEE CHAMBER OF COMMERCE “*ProGREss Is OUR MIDDLE NAME PROSPERITY OUR Last NAME” GET ON THE BAND WAGON \ smaller sign, perhaps the sleeve of something, bore in firm letters the words: WELCOME TO Bowser CIty Orrice or J. SANFORD Bowser, PuBLIcttTy DIRECTOR Get in Toucn With Bowser For Factory SITES WALK IN Into this edifice pushed Dr. Ned Harter. In the single dim room he saw a figure so absorbed in the task of lettering another sign that the entrance of the doctor was not noticed. The figure was J. Sanford Bowser. He was clad sketchily ‘ut effi- ciently in a Swansofto unionsuit, having sacrificed the rest of his wardrobe in the cause of publicity, and the look on his face was utterly beatific as with a bit of burnt cork he put the finishing touches on a sign reading: r BEHIND BOWSER CITY PATRONIZE THE LOcAL STORES He looked up, saw Doctor Harter and the cork dropped from his hand. J. San- ford Bowser looked as guilty as a school- boy caught with a Dead-Eye Dick novel in his geography. But the look changed swiftly to one of pride, of defiance. As for the doctor, his aspect was sar donic, but his manner controlled, as he said, ‘‘ Well, Bowse, at it again?” a ee said Mr. Bowser. “I’m going to put Opipee on the map. Just wait till I get back to New York and spread the Message of its Health-Building Sunshine over a few hundred pages of newsprint. See. I've got a complete campaign all written.” He indicated a pile of palm leaves cov ered with writing made with a pin. ‘‘Bowse,”’ said Doctor Harter sternly, “T said I'd see you through this and I'm going to. My sporting blood is up. I de mand one more chance to cure you of sloganitis. If I fail this time I'll admit my cure is all wrong.” ‘Guess I’m incurable, Ned,” said Mr. Bowser. “You're incorrigible,” said the doctor. “Do I get the chance? “Yes. I gave my word.” ‘Good! The launch is waiting.’ ‘Wait a second, Ned,” said Mr. Bowser, “till I find a good clarion site for this poster. Then I'll be with y you. iad Vv HEN the boat docked in New York, Doctor Harter bundled J. Sanford Bowser into a waiting motor car, silenced his protests, whisked him straight past the 3owser Building, and onward, ever on- ward, deep into Connecticut. As the car hummed through the begin- nings of the Berkshires, Doctor Harter settlement’s only street, was a sign on a | The next hut bore another sign, ob- | EVENING POST to 7 0 ow a Air Brakes— Railway Signals — Batteries ESTINGHOUSE contributions to safety a ee in transportation are writ large upon the ATTENTION world’s record of industrial achievements. The ted by Westin Pas same fifty-year-old organization pledges itself to tery. no matter what put into your Car or truck a battery reaching new Service Stations. Get heights for efficiency and dependability —an ‘over acquainted size’’ battery conceived by the foremost engineering minds and built with the finest materials and work manship obtainable. Westinghouse Batteries are sonably priced, and definitel warranted under a guarantec 1! throug! any Westing is Service Station regardiess of th b r wm wed Swissvale, WESTINGHOUSE UNION BATTERY CO., WE STINGHOUSE BATTERIES ¥ “Gold Medal” Comfort for Your Summer Home fees in weight, yet strong and substantial, “Gold Medal” Folding Furniture will add immeasurably to the comfort and attractiveness of your summer home. Inexpensive, simple to set up, compact when folded and easily finished to harmonize with any color scheme, “€ ,0ld Medal” is designed for service as well as restful relaxation. ASK for the Genuine ‘‘Gold Medal."’ IN‘ Reliable dealers have it or can get it for you trade-mark on every piece. Catalog on request IST onit The name and The” Gold Medal” Complete Line of folding furniture for camp and home includes CAMP FURNITURE MPG, CO. Racine, Wis. table s, chairs, GOLD MEDAI 1736 Packard Avenue, folding cous, camp stools, bath tubs, ete. For 30 years makers of fine folding furniture st GOLDMEDAL ~*~ TRADE MARK REO. US. PAT OFF. FOLDING FURNITURE ne

Page 104

THE SATURDAY

Hew an nN deliciou - Orange-CRUSH. ice cream, ices and sherhets dients—fruit oils and juices from oranges, lemons or limes, U. S. certified food color and cane sugar.

101,000 gallons of 1ce cream and ices flavored with Ward's Orange-Crush, Lemon-Crush or Lime-Crush were sold in 1921 by one firm in one city—Rieck- McJunkin Co., of Pittsburgh. That is over three million dishes! One ice cream firm in principal cities and towns is exclusively licensed to use the “Crush” flavors in frozen products, These new flavors are the same used in the well-known “Crush” drinks, only specially prepared for ice cream purposes. Utmost care is used 1n selecting and compounding the pure, delicious ingre-

Ask any retail ice cream dealer. Send for free booklet,“*How Orange-Crush Is Made.” Ice Cream Manufacturers: Write for information about exclusive rights, In Canada: Orange-Crush Co., Limited, Winnipeg = << D Prepared by Orange-Crush Co., Chicago, U.S.A,

Ao

7 tee

Ve “The BVD!Red Woven Label is the Trade Mark by which The BVD. Company assures you the far-famed comfort, long wear and dependable quality of its product

The BV. a i New York FACTURERS OF BYD’ U SOLE MANU NDERWEAR

“B.V.D." Coat Cut Under- shirts and Knee Length ~ Drawers, 8S¢ the garment. “B.V.D”" Sleeveless Closed j Crotch Union Suits (Pat U.S.A.)Men's $1.50 the suit Youths’ $1.00 the suit

the same voice.

EVENING POST relaxed from his grim silence long enough to remark, ‘Charming bit of scenery we just passed.” ‘Wonderful site for a billboard,” said J. Sanford Bowser wistfully. Silence for a mile or two, then, from Mr. Bowser, “‘Would it be too much to ask, Ned, whither are we drifting?” “‘Sanitarium,” said Doctor Harter. “What one?” “‘Restwold,” said Doctor Harter. Mr. Bowser groaned. “More rest?” he said plaintively. “If this fails,” the doctor returned, “I'll admit rest is not the cure for sloganitis.”’ few more miles of scenery elapsed be- fore Mr. Bowser ventured to speak again: “What sort of place is Restwold?”’ “They make you rest,”’ said the doctor briefly. Mr. Bowser’s shrug had an aroma of utter skepticism. Presently, after following twisting back roads, barren of human habitations, the car reached Restwold, a low, white, much- porched building in a grove of pines, having about it such an air of somnolence that Mr. Bowser yawned at the very sight of it. “Here we are!’ said Doctor Harter cheerfully. ‘‘ Restful, isn’t it?” “As a Tomb,” said Mr. Bowser de- jectedly. Then, brightening, ‘‘How’s this? Restwold—The Temporary Tomb. All The Peace Of Death With None Of Its Incon- venience. “‘Bowse!” “Sorry.” Doctor Harter turned his reluctant pa- tient over to Doctor Downey, who con- ducted Restwold, and departed. “Am I the only inmate?” asked Mr. Bowser. “One other,” said Doctor Downey. He had a deliberately restful voice. “*Business bad?” “IT never take more than two resters at a time,” said Doctor Downey with sweet severity. ‘‘And I never discuss business.” Mr. Bowser sighed. There being nothing else to do he went silently to bed. In the morning after a quiet breakfast in | his gray-walled room Mr. Bowser took a seat—a yielding, cushioned seat—on the »orch, and sat staring at the Berkshires. lis stare was sad. He had resolved on the night before to make one more try to throw off sloganitis, and to rest, really rest. He tried to occupy his mind by counting the trees on the mountain side. He got as high as 7853 and then lost count. A frown be- gan to form on his face. He fidgeted. He started to count the trees again. He could not help trying to figure out how much paper they would make if reduced to wood pulp, and how he would fill that paper, when converted into magazine pages, with gripping, compelling, clarion words. He lit a Marlborough-Somerset. He fidgeted again. He closed his eyes and tried desper- ately to rest. It tired him to do so. He stood up and went to the edge of the porch and drew deep into his chest the fresh air, so fresh indeed that it forced its attentions on him. “The freshest air I ever filled a lung with,” he said aloud, ‘‘M’m. Let’s see.” He fumbled for a phrase. ‘Air So Fresh,” he began, * ‘Air So Fresh ——” That It is An Inspiriting Blend Of Wine And Electricity!” cried an excited voice at his elbow. J. Sanford Bowser wheeled about sharply. “Oh, I hope I didn’t startle you,”’ said “But I just couldn’t resist the temptation to finish your phrase.” J. Sanford Bowser saw that the owner of the voice was a girl, a rather pretty girl too; not a flapper, for she had too much character in her face; thirty, thought Mr. Bowser, or maybe thirty-one, and most pleasing to the eye in her sport suit of the newest shade of lavender. “I promised I wouldn't, you know,” the girl gravely. “Wouldn't what?” **Make phrases,” said the girl, flushing. J. Sanford Bowser started. “Are you a patient here?” he asked. “Do I look like a milkmaid?” laughed the girl. said April 29,1922 “Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no,” he replied hastily. ‘‘This fresh air confuses me. Did I understand you are being treated for phrase making?”’ The girl nodded. “‘So nice to discover someone who un- derstands,” she said. ‘‘Yes. I’ve got ad- vanced phrase fever. Doctor Harter said so.’ J. Sanford Bowser gave her a look charged with interest and curiosity. “Will you sit down?” he said with a bow. They took adjacent seats. ‘Let me introduce myself,” girl. ‘‘My name is Kunkle.” “Kunkle,”’ mused Mr. Bowser. “Name’s familiar. By any chance are you related to P. I, Kunkle, of Dingman, Tinney & Kunkle, ‘“‘ Prosperity E ngineers The Art of Adve rtising Wedded to r The Science of Selling the girl triumphantly. “You are related, then? “Tam that Kunkle,” said the girl, study- ing her brogue toe. ‘I wrote that phrase.’ ‘You?” Mr. Bowser was incredulous. “You, P. I. Kunkle?” “Yes, I’m P. I. Kunkle Kunkle.” “But I always thought P. I. Kunkle was a man.” “She never was,”’ she replied. “Do you mean to say,”’ said Mr. Bowser with widening eyes, “that you are the P. I. Kunkle who did the Komfy-Kleen Bath Tub campaign—‘ Makes Every Bath A Holiday’?” She nodded. “And you're the P. I. Kunkle the Pan-American Pie campaign? ‘Heaven In Hunks,’”’ shé murmured with downcast eyes. “‘And the P. I. Kunkle who did such wonders with the sales of Doctor Peetlie’s Toni-Tonick?”’ ‘But, Mamma, you pwomised me for Kwismus a case of Doctor Peetlie’s Toni- Tonick. It stimulates my pancreatic en- zymes and settles my tummy,’”’ she quoted. “Great work!” cried J. Sanford Bowser. “‘T’ve always wanted to meet P. I. Kunkle. My name is Bowser—J. Sanford Bow- ser ——”’ ‘Let Bowser Put You On The Map,’” she said, delight and awe in her soft voice. “Shake!” he said. They shook. Then they talked. He was full of bottled-up talk, and now thestopper wasout. He told her of his loneliness, his smashed- to-smithereens feeling, which Doctor Har- ter had labeled sloganitis, and of how he had tried to rest and couldn’t. They talked all day. Toward dusk they had jointly worked out an elaborate plan to put Restwold on the map. ‘*Restwold— With said the ’ finished ” Pandora Irene that did ” Emphasis on the REST,” was his contribution. “At The Second Joyous Lungful Of Its Vimful Air You Own The World,” was hers. After dinner, beneath a gentle moon, they talked some more. Their chairs were close together. They talked about them- selves; about their souls. “To-night,” he confided to her, ‘‘I tele- graphed Doctor Harter that he was wrong about my case. Rest will never cure my sloganitis. And, thinking out loud, I don’t believe I want to cure it—now.” There was something tender, full of meaning, in the way he said the word “now.” “Phrase fever is not so bad,” she said softly, ‘‘when someone else really under- stands.” “After all, Pandora,” said J. Sanford Bowser as he took her unresisting hand, “‘Love Is Understanding.” There was an interval. only the moon saw. “Shall we call the firm Bowser & Kun- kle?”’ he asked, his arm about her. “No, dear,”’ she answered. “Just The Bowsers.” “The Bowsers,” he repeated in ecstasy. “The Bowsers!”’ “The Bowsers, still. ‘‘Let These You On the Map.” What happened ” she said, more softly Twin Go-Getters Put

Page 105

i D ©) a, fy ~ & Q f > b& & D a w&

SOEOIEESTPPEPLPAEEEEELEEEEELEEEBEE COPOEOTITEPEEEELEITLEEHELEEPEEEETTTEUEEEEEOEEEAEEEEEE TELE EES EEEEEEEEEETEESETESTTEEEELSEEEEEE LE > les rd ~— Y we K i Tine ng see , SAN AASAS SRA BERNA SNR REVERS SUBS S RRA LER SS LEN SERRA BAS SNES ee eS SNS eR Se SAN >. >> Sb Sd bh > > hh bh > bb > bh be he 4 Eee a § — y : y y A A $| " — _ —— NS a CIFIC MBPLE SERA AEE STOMEMESEEESETEESESTEEEEEEIEETOEEPEPETEIFELEEOSEMMETAEEEPEDBEBLAARBEB

Flat Server: $2.00 each LINCOLN Pattern j ; we a WwW - use ina well stich ar home -Rogers & Son is and “THE BEST AT THE PRICE” - Wm Soave. df SE eet * wee” - and good = Silv is not a matter of Forev costly decoration, but rather one of quiet 7 LUISE PPESPPLEESIEEPEEBAESES ADSL ER LEE

7, wf) SILVER CO. INTERNATIONAL

Also made in Canada by Wm: Rogers Mfg. Co., Limited, Niagara‘Falls,Ont.

Page 106

THE SATURDAY fa lored, GOTHAM meet the demand for finely porty ner assure. with the utmost in t scientifically pro- is designed to garments that the utmost in gue), READ SLEEPINGWEAR | SEE the Comfort OU can see the comfort in these Brighton- Carlsbad sleepinggarments, just as the camera saw it (photograph unretouched), Twist and turn in them if you're a restless sleeper they won’t bind or torture you as skimped, poorly tai- lored garments will. A One-Piete Pajama At the right is our “Pajunion”’—made in one piece sensible idea, isn’t it? Button and tab at ankle keeps trouser leg down. Fabrics and styles for all, from practical grandfather to the fas tidious bachelor and budding youth, Send for Free “Nightie Book" It tells about our entire line for all the family. H. B. Glover Company Dept. 4 Dubuque, lowa Makers of Brighton-Carlsbad Flannelette Nightwear EVENING POST SHALL WE FINANCE EUROPE OR AMERICA? April 29,1922 (Continued from Page 23) at fancy»prices finds no confirmation in the views of experts who have studied condi- tions, or in foreign-trade statistics. “The prospect for the revival of Amer- ican business lies in the increase of business in the domestic markets and in a foreign trade maintained along more normal lines and developed in a more normal way than is sometimes urged by the proponents of plans for artificial stimulation of foreign trade.” After picturing this background of nor- mal trade Mr. Reynolds strikes the keynote of his theme by discussing the ill-balanced financial position of the world. ‘The United States,”’ he declared, ‘and in much less degree Great Britain, are the only countries with an appreciable amount of capital for export. For the purpose of maintaining their own financial solidity these two countries can ill afford to supply Continental Europe with funds secured through bank expansion. ‘Reports indicate that the nations of Continental Europe have made small prog- ress in balancing their budgets. Deficits have accumulated. These nations must make serious efforts to improve public finances. This course involves stringent measures in the way of deflating inflated paper currencies. It also involves taxation of the most rigorous character. There must be retrenchment in public expendi- tures. . . . It is imperative that Euro- pean countries work, tax, save, restrict imports to necessities, and above all re- verse the mad policy of printing bank notes. “One of the conditions necessary for normal trading between the United States and Europe is, therefore, that European countries shall themselves take clearly de- fined steps to strengthen their exchange position. ,Moreover, Europe should first help herself before seeking large amounts of new capital in the American market.’ How often we have heard this same state- ment; so often that we, as Americans, are | “full up and fed up” with the idea; but what is being done in foreign countries to-day, or, for that matter, in the United States? Some Striking Figures: Do the American people to-day realize the extent to which European countries have been securing capital in our markets? During the period 1915-20, according to this Mississippi Valley banker, ‘‘foreign | loans floated through American bankers aggregated some $5,000,000,000. Direct loans by the Federal Government to Euro- | pean nations amounted to some $10,000,- | 000,000, At the present time the unfunded debt of Europe probably amounts to some- where between $3,500,000,000 and $4,000,- 000,000. In all, these figures represent an export of something like $19,000,000,000 of capital.” If capital is a form of prosperity, then we have been exporting prosperity at a get-rich-quick spendthrift rate which may | be difficult to continue if we expect to enjoy and profit by some of our prosperity at home. To illustrate the significance of his fig- ures Mr. Reynolds makes some terrifying comparisons. ‘‘ During the period 1915-20 the total reported issues of securities railroad and traction, industrial, municipal and state, and those put out by the Federal Government, amounted to $43,500,000,000. Of that total $15,000,000,000 went to Eu- | rope. Europeans received $3,000,000,000 more than was given to al! American rail- roads, traction companies and industries combined. They received as much as these with state and municipal issues added. “In many statements regarding the sub- ject of exporting capital the idea seems to be prevalent that money is the only form of capital.” But this is not true, Mr. Reynolds maintains. “If the United States makes loans to France and the proceeds of the loans are expended in the United States, it is felt that Americans will be safe because the money is still here. But in such case they have parted with capital goods that have been paid for with their own funds. They will receive for these capital goods the customary evidences of debt— bonds or notes which draw interest. This is as truly an export of capital as if gold had been sent abroad. . Amer- ican capital resources have been depleted to the same extent in either case. It is immaterial whether the recent $100,000,000 French loan was made in goods or in gold so far as this country’s capital account is concerned. Thinking about the export of capital should not be confused by centering attention on money and forgetting the fact that capital goods are exported even though the money can be spent in this country. “Much of the same situation underlies the plan for the proposed $100,000,000 foreign-trade financing corporation. It is a plan to export a large part, or all, of $1,000,000,000 of capital to Europe. It is a plan to stimulate exports, but it involves the export of capital goods in return for which Americans will Teceive interest- bearing promises to pay. What is the effect of this policy? “In considering foreign trade and the export of American capital’’—to quote further from Mr. Reynolds’ statements “not only the needs or demands of Europe must be taken into account but also the capacity of Americans to export capital without seriously affecting domestic indus- try. Europe would not gain in the long run from the impairment of American resources ang capital. Exporting Prosperity “No recourse to statistics is really neces- sary to confirm the truth of the statement so often made that American railroads have not received, for several years, ade- quate additions to their capital, additions that were necessary to efficient transporta- tion service. Some idea of the situation can be gained from the fact that reported issues of railroad and traction securities from 1909 to 1914 averaged almost $1,000,000,- 000 each year, while from 1917 to 1920, inclusive, the average was less than $450,- 000,000 a year. It seems a reasonable in- ference that the export of American capital to Europe must have helped to stay rail- road progress and development. Similarly, the export of American capital must have had an adverse effect on building opera- tions and must have been a contributing cause to the present housing shortage. Capital needs for building are problematic. Estimates range from $1,000,000,000 to $5,000,000,000. Even the most conserva- tive figures, however, show the need for c apits il in the United States if building is to play its full part in the restoration of domestic prosperity. ‘Indeed, in every field of domestic en- deavor the shortage of capital has been more or less seriously felt, and although the United States is now a creditor nation it must be recalled that at no time in its history, prior to the war, have the people of the United States accumul: ated enough capital for American needs.’ In 138 years of our national independ- ence we produced our own prosperity by a process of work and thrift. During the past eight years we have been exporting our prosperity in the form of capital sav- ings and capital goods, but now that we are at the turn of the road financially, industrially, economically and nationally, what is to be our future policy? To what use shall capital accumulations be put? Shall they be turned in large measure to Europe or put to work in the United States? Mr. Reynolds raises the issue. ‘Since savings are not indefinitely expansible, a decision is necessary as to whether they shall be spent here to furnish Europeans with capital goods, or spent here to furnish American industries with such capital goods. To what extent shall American savings be used to furnish Europe with capital goods, and to what extent used to furnish capital goods for the rehabilitation of American industries? “One thing at least seems clear: The United States cannot export its capital and have it Soo. “The scheme of financing sales to Eu- rope would be more alluring if a revival of business on the high-price level of the first part of 1920 could be foreseen,” Mr. Reynolds added, ‘but the maintenance of such a price level is neither possible nor

Page 107

—— U f } } desirable. It has already been lowered everywhere. The revival of American busi- ness on the basis of lower prices is inevita- ble. If the price of goods is to be lower, costs must be lowered enough to give a reasonable margin of profit. This applies not only to the production of the domestic market but production for foreign markets. The lowering of costs demands a higher degree of efficiency in production. This higher efficiency must be found in capital as well as labor. There must be the use of adequate and efficient capital equipment. American transportation in particular has capital needs that must be met. It is im- portant, therefore—in fact, of major im- portance—that the question of business revival be considered in relation to the problem of the extent to which American capital should be exported.” The problem of transportation and the dire need of capital to enable our railroads to begin much needed new construction was the one Mr. Hoover was discussing in Washington when he made the statements quoted at the beginning of this article. “If we look at the national economic situation as a whole,’’ Secretary Hoover stated, ‘‘the greatest impulse that can be given to recovery from any source what- ever is a reduction of rates on primary commodities, combined with the immedi- ate resumption of railway construction and equipment. The first depends upon redc- tion of operating costs, the second upon restoration of credit. “One thing is absolute: Our transporta- tion facilities are below the needs of our country, and unless we have a quick resumption of construction the whole community—agricultural, commercial and industrial—will be gasping from a strangu- lation caused by insufficient transportation the moment that our business activities resume, ‘*Few people seem to realize the amount of expansion in our transportation machine necessary to keep pace with the growth of the country, and an equally few seem to have any notion of the price we pay for not having it. . . . There would be no difficulty whatever, by basing such losses on the experiences we have already had, to calculate a loss to the American people of $1,000,000,000 for each one of these peri- odie transportation shortages. “There is nothing that is so irrecover- able a loss to the nation as idle shops and idle men. To-day we have both,” the Secretary of Commerce told the Interstate Commerce Commission. ‘‘There is nothing that will so quickly start the springs of business and employment as an immediate resumption of construction and equip- ment of the railways. When business does resume we shall need all of our capacity for the production of consumable goods. We shall not only find it strangled for lack of transportation but we shall find ourselves plunging into the manufacture of this very railway equipment and construction in competition with consumable goods for materials and labor. Herein lies the basic cause of destructive price inflation and booms, with all their waste and over- expansion.” Railroads in Need of Capital If this is the condition of our transporta- tion system, if a real program of construc- tion would aid the nation as a whole, then why is not the capital forthcoming to finance the work? Let Mr. Hoover an- swer: ‘Surplus capital is pouring by hun- dreds of millions monthly into tax-free securities and foreign loans, and yet our railways are unable to finance the most moderate of construction programs.” To show how the railways are not the only businesses in the United States that are being strangled by a lack of capital, permit me to quote the latest reports of R. Dun & Co. on the commercial failures in this country during February. “ Dun’s statistics state there were 2331 commercial failures with liabilities of $72,608,393 in that month of this year. In both number and amount this exceeded any other Feb- ruary in thirty years, and included 481 manufacturers, 1714 general stores, grocers, dry-goods merchants and traders, and 136 agents and brokers. During January of this year there were 2723 failures, with losses amounting to $73,795,780. How- ever, during this same month of business casualties in the United States, foreign governments and municipalities obtained $94 236,000 of new capital from the Amer- ican people and American banks. THE SATURDAY In January and February there were 5054 failures, with liabilities of $146,404,173. During these same two months European and other foreign countries obtained $158,- 886,000 in the American market. Our fail- ures amounted to $146,404,173, and at the same time we exported $158,886,000. During January of this year there was an increase over last year of $42,514,000 in the amount of our capital exportations to foreign governments and municipalities alone. ‘ “If American railways cannot earn interest on their borrowings let us throw up our hands and prepare for a second Russia,’’ Mr. Hoover declared. “Justification for proposals to furnish Europe with even more capital,’’ Mr. Rey- nolds said, ‘‘is sought in the plea that the fortunes of the people of the United States are tied up with those of Europe. Failure, distress and disaster there will mean failure, distress and disaster here.” Furthermore, the Chicago banker con- tinued, the “view is urged that American goods, particularly raw materials, must be sold to Europeans, not only in order to re- lieve the American market but also to fur- nish Europe the materials on which to work in the process of economic rehabilitation. “Any proposal to furnish Europe with more capital should receive the closest scrutiny. “If certain of the European nations are impoverished their position will not be greatly improved by America’s financing sales of goods without adequate considera- tion of the risk involved or thought of the extent to which capital should be exported. If Europe is impoverished improvement of the condition of her peoples will not be brought about by forcing America to the same condition.” Backing Foreign Horses “Foreign trade has been emphasized to such a degree of late that thought of busi- ness revival is largely in terms of exports and foreign financing. If it were necessary for the people of the United States to await the rehabilitation of Europe before they could enjoy a fuller measure of pros- perity, they might have to wait a very long time. Just how long, no one knows! Sucha prospect is far from comforting at a time when gloom enough engulfs American busi- ness. There need be no paralysis of action with the world’s greatest domestic market at hand and controllable. To emphasize this point, an exaggerated statement might almost be risked, that if we take care of our 92 per cent or 93 per cent of domestic busi- ness, the 7 per cent of foreign business will take care of itself.” ‘‘A prosperous America can help the world,”” Charles M. Schwab, chairman of the board of the Bethlehem Steel Corpora- tion, wrote not long ago, ‘“‘but a prostrate America cannot. The serious condition caused in the United States to-day by such large exporta tions of capital is what prompted the State Department, on March 3, 1922, to issue a warning to American bankers expressing the desire of the Government to be more fully informed of prospective foreign loans Prosperity comes in two varieties, the imported brand and the domestic product. There is a group of men who are tireless advocates of imported prosperity, the kind that is supposed to come from limitless in vestments in foreign countries. They say we can live and prosper on foreign profits. Sut can we? Do we not as a matter of fact have to choose between imported prosperity and prosperity which is “*made in the U.S. A."’? We are engaged to-day in national as well as international competition for trade Our business depr: transportation deadlock, commercial failures cannot be exported and exchanged for the uncertain prosperity of Europe. By financing Eu- rope’s comeback and neglecting our own we are hamstringing prosperity and a sound economic revival in this country. In the race for normalcy we have been putting our money on foreign horses be- cause we have been told that Europe must come first and America last. Can we afford, as a people and a nation, to wreck this country financially and indus- trially in order to rebuild the rest of the world? The logical, safe and sound policy would be for the United States to put its own house in order first and then, when prosper- ity returns, share that prosperity with our less fortunate neighbors. ssion, EVENING POST “What an Old Sea Captain 5 says about Liquid’ Granite “There she is, mate— clean, tight, and tidy az the decks must be. loucan rattle your tackle on that ind if a bit of sea slaps over the rail, map t up end no harm done." Granite brings out the natural grain wood and preserves its beauty It makes a proof, durable, resisting the Liquid of the the hardest wear under floor clean, water buffetings of use, knocks daily wear i standing up under occasional har and persistent Protect your floors with iquidCrranite ranite FLOOR —"" - grface ark C= cae Ne LIQUID GRAMITE FGROTI AIR VARNISHES MELS ~sTatns ®& WALKERVIELE, ONTARIO An Architect, A Painter and A Sculptress Joined in Designing This Exquisite Lamp The lines, proportions and coloring of type of most of the lamps you see in these da hat area work of commercialism are the work of de jue thisfa signing departments of large fact Aurora found They are the fruits of a deep know! i from $15 to § edge of what makes a "px » tlar Yet the price of seller But some people I but Decorative Arts League com iittee felt sure, we like a f 50— a designed purely --H. an $ Think of - eye to good taste, a lamp of artistic proportions d har monious tones, a lamp em- bodying grace, symmetry ind beauty rather than Only the Decorative uld bris rt League lamp at And only as widening i te the long exper f f 8 the aie o Leage designer ! fer ‘ ms most in de a many other lamps you in retail stores vave in your house, you Hence this exquisite tured Aurora,’ ’é h t ause of the f For tl lelicate work ibea il work a i i r i i “ 4 t l plug. Y will rare f ever, get ha slue aga t | t t ot i er ulented ar » famous a t sk Direct from Producer to ve pra ‘ ' \ pa Consumer by Mail Only " f ‘ Pa i on hd maid ” I ght t » al ! in $3.50 arr t t 1 g of ala that w " acka ght lary tandards of hor g became t ' ! ver t ibor of M r lel w nificant venta ind aba ast a des i { it, or pected t or ft ' ld ¢ t ! ack in f " and ' + fault mor s be retunded ( ) : t Decorative . E D ] P. f yet wth 175 Fifth Avenue. New very Vetail Perfect Orte Looe One etyie of ornaments t saeeeeeeeseseseeeseeece t h tried a ‘ 1 dn the 178 Fifth Ae venue oe We he & ym = Decorative Arts League (NOY e'y) end . pl AURORA ¥ ; “ao , 4 . lit ; oath det u may send me, e e members’ epecie - athe . che & , . $3.50 price, ar. “Aurora” Lamp, ead | will pay the — Se de ee dee ret mar 63.50 plus the pusiage, when delivered ang Tr ag . iid biend Mi not satisfactory | can return the lamp within is trear with t lirne f the slet five days of recespt and you areto refued my money in The graceful curve f the aft itself t full ou mey enter my neme as « rreaponding : eem th in ir { re t ' Member" of the Decorative Arte League, it being distinctly ie {t understood that such membership is to cost me nothing . re either now or later, and is to entail no obligation of any The result is a masterpiece of Greek si licit | kind. It simply registers me as one interested in hearing hala Jot a yg 1+ idded k of really artistic new things for home decorations . without ma the ral effect t t : differ ina ' Signed I would be harm Aurora’ t x " vn t f ir hing adapt teelf to } f r-hall, to librar r living room City State

Page 108

White Trucks ive thousand own- ers operate fleets totaling 50,000 White Trucks. $4,500 4,200 3,250 2,400 5-ton 3\,-ton 2-ton ¥4-ton F. O. B. Factory “a THE WHITE COMPANY Cleveland Knowing How THE SATURDAY EVENING POST A Friend in Need! Last tube punctured patches won’t stick you're ready to start home on the rim. Then along comes a helpful friend and shows you how to vulcanize that puncture for good in five minutes. He'll tell you that he wouldn’t take ten dollars for the feeling of security his Shaler Vulcanizer gives him and advises you to get one at the next garage or accessory store you pass. You'll do it, and next time the emergency comes you'll thank your lucky star that you were prepared, Costs Only $1.50 Slightly higher west of Denver and in Canada. SCE TMNT AHH at rubbers, gloves, coats, etc. No Patch-&-Heat Unit contains its 4 match is all you need. Vulcanizes boots, Fach own fue l. C. A. SHALER COMPANY Waupun, Wis., U. S. A. gasoline, SM peta VULCANIZER 1400 Fourth St., | business to pick on Reggie. REGGIE April 29,1922 (Continued from Page 7) At the end of a week Bertha, the paid cook, departed. Reggie had found her a new position. “‘Get another place for you, Bertha,” he had said, and had started out in his casual, thoroughgoing way to make good his promise. He had gone directly to the Kelseys’. Mrs. Kelsey, a widow, whose husband had made several millions, and then, in the good American way, ‘had died and left them to her, was by far the wealthiest woman in town. Her daughter, Trenna, was a friend of Reggie’s. He had known her for years. He called and presented his case. “Business, Trenna,”’ said Reggie, lean- ing against the wall of the Ke alsey living room. ‘Find a position for Bertha, our cook. Letting her go. Can't your mother take her?” Trenna, perched lightly on the arm of a purple velvet. sofa—a slender, charming blond creature—swung her silk-clad legs and smiled at him. “Of course. Mother’s always looking | for a cook. Send her over.”’ “Thanks.” The girl’s wide-open blue eyes studied him keenly. “Are you tired of her, Reg? Or — “No. Fine cook. My idea, letting her go. Family thinks I ought toearn my board. Going to de the cooking from now on.” ‘Reggie! Are you really?’ “*M’m.” She came toward him, put her hand on his arm. “Reg! cook?” **M’m.” She glanced up at him appraisingly, then laughed. ‘You ‘re the darnedest man, Reg. Hon- estly — “Don’t see anything funny about it,” said Reggie in his deep, drawling voice. “You do see something funny about it. But not the way I mean. Sometimes I think you're laughing at—at all of us.” “Not at you, Trenna. Sure your mother will want Bertha?” “Absolutely. Send her over. I'll be responsible.” So Bertha was transferred to the Kel- seys’, and Reggie —it was rather a mystery how he managed it—ruled serene in the ” You funny old boob—can you Mendenhall kitchen. mum HE extraordinary fact was that Reggie turned out to be an excellent cook. Before long the family began to admit privately that he was the best they’d ever had. Still later they took to praising him outright. “You really are a wonder, Reg- gie. Howeverdid you make that timbale?”’ “Cookbook,” said Reggie imperturbably. He went to all the dances as before. If Foxboro, in the persons of its more fashion- able set, looked at him curiously he did not yarticularly notice it. Foxboro always had ooked at him curiously. Once Bert King, now a member of a famous brokerage firm in town, and still the hero of Foxboro, saw fit to poke fun at Reggie. It was at one of the Country Club dances, and a group of young people were gathered about the fire- place. “‘Hear you're some chef, Reggie. Why don’t you open a tearoom? Make scads of money!” Everyone laughed and looked at Reggie, leaning against the stone mantel. He was as serious as ever—so serious, so thought- ful that it produced a little hush. ‘“’Fraid it wouldn't be a success, Bert. Tell me you're on a diet.” It was a subtle and telling stroke. Mr. King was known to be sensitive about his figure. They all laughed again, and rose as the music started. Bert, a trifle red about | the cheek bones, gathered up Trenna Kel- sey and danced off with her. He was pay- ing open court to Trenna these days. So was Charley Bingham, for that matter; but Bert was the general favorite. They made an appropriate couple—the local hero and the local heroine. Foxboro approved the romance, sentimentally beamed upon it. But now Mr. King, looking down into | his partner’s face, found it overcast with a peculiar sternness. “You deserved that, Bert. You had no ” “T was only joking, Trenna.” “T like Reggie. He's a peach.” Mr. King was moved to retaliate. He was rather a short-tempered young man, and Reggie’s reply had smarted. ‘**Peach blossom!”’ said Bert. Trenna did not answer. But when the dance was over she withdrew abruptly from the hero’s arms. “Headache. Going home,” she an- nounced over her shoulder, and left Mr. King standing stiffly in the center of the room. She walked over to the fireplace, where Reggie still made a graceful picture. “I'm going, Reg. Come with me?” “Home? Right, Trenna.” “*T’ll get my things. Won't be a minute. The car’s parked out in front.” It was a February night, mild, with a touch of spring in the air. Trenna drove. She drove beautifully, negligently, one gloved hand resting on the wheel, the other holding together the flaps of her fur eve- ning cloak. “Reg?” ““M’m?” “‘Aren’t you painting at all now?” “No time. Done a few etchings.” “Well, I think it’s a shame. Just be- cause you happen to be different ad “Got to make some money somehow, Trenna. That idea of Bert's. Tearoom. Not so bad. Belie ve I could make it pay. “Do you mean it? ““M’m. Buy an old farmhouse on the state road, just outside town. Decorate it myself. Do my own cooking. Get a China- man. Only run it through the summer. Make enough to paint all winter. Think?” “I’m sure you could! Listen, Reggie! You know that old house with the two elms in front of it, about a mile from town? The one that’s been empty so long?” “M’m. Sketched it once. All queer angle s. Interesting.” “Why wouldn’t that do? out and look at it.” “Now?” “Yes. I’ve got a flashlight.” “Game,” said Reggie. She glanced at him, sitting slumped down beside her, his long legs in their black trousers twisted about each other in a manner that was characteristically Reggie's. She laughed. “Reg! You funny old nut!” “Why?” “‘Just because you are,”’ said the girl, and put her foot on the accelerator. They reached the deserted farmhouse about a quarter of an hour later. It was dark and, in its dilapidated state, for- bidding. Trenna shivered as Re ggie pried up a window. ‘Kind of spooky, Reg, isn’t it?” **M’m. He climbed through the window, leaned out, picked her up casually and lifted her over the sill. She stood close to him, clute hing his arm. ‘See any mice, Reggie?”’ “No.” He was already calculating the possibilities of the place. ‘‘Put a dozen tables here. Think? Cut a door through to the porch. Maybe take down that par- tition.” They prowled about for half an hour, Reggie profoundly interested, thoughtful; Trenna shuddering and clinging to her flashlight. Once a rat scuttled across the floor. She shrieked and jumped up on a broken chair, her skirts to her knees. Reggie regarded her contemplatively, his head on one side. “French poster,” he tone. Trenna laughed hysterically. It struck her as irresistibly funny that Reggie should compare her with a French poster at eleven o'clock at night, in a spooky old house that was falling visibly to pieces about them. She was still laughing when they got bac k to the car. Honestly, _ Reg, you don’t know how scared I was.’ “Do,” said Reggie. quivering.” She giggled as she swung the car out into the road. “You forget my legs, young man. They rolled quietly along toward the lights of Foxboro. “Fun, wasn’t it?’’ said Trenna. ‘““M’m,” murmured Reggie. ‘Believe I could do it, Trenna. Make some money. Continued on Page 108) Let’s drive said in a judicial “Saw your legs ”

Page 109

| e ond; oe s. Bae SN oe ty ed ; That Good Old Clothcraft Serge— Like an Old Friend, it Wears Well Her. to get the very most for your clothing dollar—that is your problem today. Doesn’t it interest you vitally to know that thousands and thousands of critical buyers have found the answer in that good ald Clothcraft Serge? They have found that, like a good old friend, serge wears well; it holds its shape, it keeps that sturdy, sensible appearance over a long period of time. There’s no ‘‘ginger- bread’’ about a Clothcraft suit—just common sense and good taste in style. You take no chances~every Clothcraft suit carries a written guarantee that it will ive satisfac tory wear and S¢ rvice the re are norestric tions you're the sole judge . And Clothcraft has effected great savings by perfect ing new manufacturing processes or combining old ones so that there are actual savings in dollars and cents. These savings are not held to give Clothcraft or its retailers a greater margin of profit, but are actually passed on all the way to you. Thus it happens that you can get genuine Clothcraft Serge Spec ials today at the nie prices: Clothcraft Serge Specials No. 5130 (Blue) $30 No. 4130 (Blue) $35 No. 3130 (Gray) $35 No. 7130 (Gray) $29 No. 7132 (Brown) $29 CLOTHCRAFT CLOTHE YOUNG MEN FOR MEN AND The CLOTHCRAFT STORE in YOUR TOWN THE SATURDAY EVENING POST | | Gi? to You | ee lowered manufacturing costs, YOUR clothing costs are lowered, too. To begin with, Clotheraft has one of the largest clothing plants in the world and uses | an enormous amount of raw materials. The quantity pur- | chases make tremendous say- ings, right at the start. Then, over 75 years of | manufacturing experience have taught numerous little ° 3) (ad money-saving “‘short-cuts’’— bettering the product and lowering the cost. For instance, “‘felling’”’ 3 ~ machine reduces — . “owe this to a Minimum — and sews a smoother seam. It “fells” the sleeve linings in your Clotheraft suit—and — you pay less for it. One little “Merrow’’ ma- chine does the work of two | expensive men a ad be ? a well—and speed- j ie! A ily. It crotch pieces and overcasts scws the edge of the trouser at the same time. , And another almost human , Me machine is the Fi or “Jumper,” which aif’ ening in the coat-front—for- merly a slow hand-operation. So, here and there are many out-of-the-ordinary machines, all doing their bit to save you money. Cloth- craft Clothes bring you better | values at a moderate price. Send for these Swatches— FREE The new Clotheraf rf | THE JOSEPH & FEISS CO 2171 West 53rd Street CLEVELAND, OHIO The Savings that Come costly hand labor | *bastes the stiff- |

Page 110

Something New for Campers and Tourists How often, after a hard day’s trailing, | you've sat hefore the camp fire cooking a | well earned meal when, slide! went the skil- or else the coffee pot took a right into the But, you need not annoyances any longer let into the fire, off middle of header a slippery stone a bed of coals! put up with these you can cook your camp meals in comfort if you use a The n neatest, handiest arti- cle ofits kind ever produced. Something needed by every hunter, trapper, fisherman, camper, and even the occa Can be Ad justable racks for meats, sional picnicker set up in one minute skillets, pots and pans—can be instantancously raised, lowered or turned in ac cordance with the height of flame and direction of wind. Racks stay in posi tion automatically without set screws or lugs. Portable and Compact— Weighs Only 7 Pounds The Campfire Grub Stake is light, compact. Complete outfit as pictured weighs but 7 pounds, Can be carried in a hiker'’s pack or knap sack or under an automobile seat. Securely packed in a strong fiber container 20’ long, 9°’ wide and 1 thick. All parts carefully cast of the best grade of metal and guaranteed against breakage and mechanical defects Buy From Your Dealer Most good Sporting Goods, Auto oo Accessory and Hardware Dealers In the U.S and Department Stores can supply you with a Campfire Grub Stake $4.00in Canada if your dealer hes not yet stocked it, order direct from The Campfire Mfg. Co., 1037 Boatmen's Bank Bidg., St. Louis, Mo., giving deal er’s name and enclosing moncy order or check for s! oo ne camping season is beginning — be Dealer epared to get the full benefit from our extensive nz uaa’ advertising —order from your jobber at once. If he cannot supply you, write direct for sample and prices CAMPFIRE MANUFACTURING CO. 1037 Boatmen's Bank Bldg., St. Louis, Mo. | dinner THE SATURDAY (Continued from Page 106) Go to Paris. Paint. Come home. some more money. Paint.” “Yes,”’ said Trenna, and for some reason she sighed. Make Iv T WAS Aunt Victorine who advanced Reggie the money to finance his tea house. The family were solidly against it. Their arguments, in substance, amounted to this: It wasn’t respectable. “‘Respectable!’” said Aunt Victorine from her place at one end of the council table. ‘‘Maybe you don’t know it, but one of your ancestors, old Jacob Mendenhall, once kept a tavern on the Boston Post Road; and it didn’t prevent him from being a good citizen, either. You come up to my room, Reggie, and we’ll talk it over.’ ‘Aunt Victorine,”’ said Mr. Mendenhall sternly, ‘I insist that you “You can insist all you like, Peter Men- denhall. It’s my money and I'll do whet I like with it. If Reggie wants funds for a tea house I'll lend them to him. What’s more, I'll pay a cook to take his place here. You come along, Reggie.” Foxboro as a whole, it must be confessed, agreed with the family. it did not z approve of Reggie’s tea house. ‘“‘ Reggie’s career, said Bert King, ‘‘is cut out for him. He'll invent a new salad dressing, and dic famous.” If Reggie heard this bon mot he, as usual, paid no attention to it. He was busy fixing up the old house on the state road. He had decorated the front of it with a novel and humorous design of colored pat- terns, which gave the place a rakish, mis- chievous look. The various angles of its decrepitude had been held and firmly fixed by the local contractor—who had thought | Reggie quite mad. Inside, the plaster | walls of the main tearoom were covered with humorous figures—a fat man _ bal- | ancing a teacup on his knee, a willowy lady with green hair elegantly fishing for sugar lumps with a pair of fire tongs; a juggler | in a brilliant coat balancing a pile of plates | on one finger. Reggie, at least, thought his | decorations amusing, and Sue’s two chil- | dren, when they saw them, shrieked with delight. Older persons, on the contrary, | stared at Reggie’s handiwork and were | inclined to take it seriously. They had an uncomfortable suspicion that it was in- tended as Art. No, Foxboro did not approve of Reggie’s | venture. That fact, however, did not pre- vent it from turning out, practically en masse, on the Saturday afternoon of Reggie’s opening, which occurred about the! first of June. Of his family, all were present except his father, who had not been able to get out from town. “We'll have to go,’”’ Mrs. Mendenhall had said. ‘We can’t desert Reggie.” “Go?” piped up Aunt Victorine. “Humph! Of course I’m going. Wouldn’t miss it for a thousand dollars.” To say that the afternoon was a success is to put it mildly. It was a polite stam- pede. An hour after the first guest had arrived Reggie and his lone Chinaman were hopelessly involved. The latter came panting into the kitchen, his round face glistening like the Moon of Despair. “Allee time glest come. No good. squalsh.”’ Reggie, flushed and disheveled but still calm, thrust his head out of the kitchen door and signaled to Trenna Kelsey. She came. “Riot,” said Reggie. ‘‘What’'ll I do?” Trenna cast her eye over the crowded room, nodded, and gave his arm an en- couraging pat. “Leave it to me, Reg. In ten minutes she had organized a relief committee of volunteer waitresses. She herself returned to the kitchen, rolled up her chiffon sleeves—it was a warm after- noon—and went to work making sand- wiches and cinnamon toast. The day not only was saved but glorified as well. The daughters of the first families of Foxboro | were toiling for Reggie. Even his own sisters ‘“Honestly!”” whispered Jane to her | mother as she passed with a tray of tea and cakes, “Reggie has every débutante in town working for him. Wouldn’t you know it?” “Genius!” delighted. When it was over, and the crowd had gone, Reggie, a cigarette between his lips, leaned against the kitchen wall and looked | at Trenna washing her hands in the sink. Me said Aunt Victorine, highly EVENING POST © eal murmured Reggie expan- avg. h, I per ht it was fun.’ “Bore,” Reggie. She reais to him a face pink with bend- ing over the steve. “You'll make a great success of it. I know you will. Your decorations are a marvelous ad. If you could have heard what people said!” The ghost of a smile passed over Reg- gie’s lips. His mouth drooped a little more noticeably. ““M’m,” said Reggie. “You'll be a plutocrat in no time, young man.” “Hope so. Tre nna?” ‘I’m going to Narragansett in August,” said the girl. From the road in front of the house came the loud honking: of an automobile horn “That’s Bert,’’ observed Trenna. “He said he’d ¢° out for me. My car’s on the blink. , Reggie.” “Thanks, Trenna. Saved my bacon.” Going away this summer, April 29,1922 MAGNET LIGHT —STICKS WHERE STUCK | ‘“Sticks Where Stuck” “T saved your cinnamon toast, anyway. | I suppose you'll be busy from now on. Going to live here, aren’t you?” ““M’m. Like it better.” “Well, come see me, Reggie, or I'll be out here after you.’’ She added lightly, putting on her hat, ‘‘Can’t give you up, young man. Too much of a habit.” Again the automobile horn. She touched his hand, turned and ran out of the kitchen. He heard her call to Bert King, ‘Coming! Sorry to keep For the next two months little of Trenna. He was busy teggie saw —busier than anyone, including Reggie, ever had thought he could be. The tea house proved popular, became a fad. He hired a second China- man, then a third. By the middle of July he had made almost as much money as Belle made in a year. But he was so easy- going, so casual about it that his family refused to be impressed. They no longer looked upon Reggie’s tea house as un- respectable. Somehow Reggie had a way of making things respectable simply by doing them. They looked upon it as an | idiosyncrasy, as a toy with which he amused himself. They understood that Reggie was, at bottom, thoroughly im- practical. As for Trenna, she came frequently to the tea house—she was Reggie’s best cus- tomer her. both. A number of young men were more or less in love with her, in the Foxboro idiom; but Bert and ( “harley were the chief rivals. Bert and Charley had been rivals since their high- school days, when both had tried for the | Graduating Essay Medal—which Reggie had won. But in the present case Reggie could be safely disregarded. in the kitchen, making sandwiches. Foxboro had decided that it would be either Bert or Charley, and probably Bert. In fact some persons went so far as to say that Charley was not really in love with Trenna, but that he meant to marry her if he could, simply for the sake of defeating his rival. Other persons had it on excellentauthority that both young men were desperately in love with Trenna. Altogether it was a fascinating drama. Foxboro talked about little else that sum- mer. It was understood that Trenna would announce her engagement to one or the other of the two young men when she returned from her month at Narragansett. She was leaving Foxboro August first. A few nights previous to that date Reg- gie locked up the tea house and set out to walk the mile into town. He was going to call on Trenna, to say good-by to her. He met her halfway to the village, driving her car. She saw his tall figure swinging along the road in the twilight and stopped. “Hi, Reg!” He crossed over to her, stood leaning against the side of the car. “Lo. Just coming in to see you.” “Were you? Funny. I was coming out to see you. Tired of waiting for you, Reggie. Honestly, we haven’t had a talk for ages. Hop in. He climbed into the seat beside her with- out bothering to open the door. She laughed and let in the clutch. They drifted along, the warm night air in their faces, the road a languid black river flowing under their lights. At the first hill, however, she stopped again; they sat looking at the lights of Foxboro, twinkling at a distance. but always there were others with Bert King or Charley Bingham, or | Trenna, crazy about | He was out | Leaves Both Hands Free When making tire changes along a dark muddy road—or when tinkering in a poorly-lighted garage you need a Webster Magnet Light. It “ ‘sticks where stuck’’ affording ample light and the freedom of both hands. pensable in emergencies. a rete Me latiget ih amelit iia rust-proof electro- It is indis- It is attractive— Its dull black, magnet base clings tight to any iron surface. Its nickel-plated reflector shades the eyes and protects the bulb. Its twelve feet of cord is ample for the largest car and the plug fits any socket about the car. . If your dealer cannot supply, send check or money order direct, specifying make and model of your car. WEBSTER ELECTRIC COMPANY RACINE , WISCONSIN, U.8&.A. Manufacturers of 750,000 Webster Magnetos _Makes Plants {j.. Magic Not! ng makes plants grow more qu Just a little at the sts ot r 1 ‘ r i alia h gr up r ri uxu nd f rRY " rLIFE nple irec pack z fr Druggist ro 8 S I OR send 50 cents dire: itisfaction GUARA EED or r y ba Ask your dealer or writ . TODAY R. H. HOOVER LABORATORIES, Inc. Dept. 2 Freeport, Illinois (Dealers: nearest jot name of Write for Smoke on Me— -FREE oan ~ FREE y how you like you in mild, medium or heavy Write today Pete Moberly, Box 888, Owensboro, Ky. ¢ Gn atomit \~ OR COLES PATENTS 5 FEB 20'06 A Man’s Feet Carry 815 Tonsa Day “Anatomik” shoes s t the fe et in npr r have been carry Arrow shows wh P kind of shoe (left Send for free illustrated boc t and name of est agen nei FIELD & FLINT. co., BROCKTON, MASS,

Page 111

TAILORED OF Merton Homespuns $950 | Even if you never knew that the finest caps made come from Merton House, our ‘‘Oxford” Homespuns are the sort of caps you would think of first if asked to describe your favor- ite. The “Oxford” shown is an all-around cap, for year-round wear—for travelling, motoring, golfing, and all outdooring. A wonder for good looks; will take all sorts of hard knocks; wears like iron. Finely tail- ored of doggy, he-man Homespuns, loomed expressly for us in England. Very smart! Your dealer probably has it in a variety of color combinations send size If you can’t find a Merton dealer color and price to us and we will see that you are supplied. Mention favorite store CHARLES S.MERTON & CO. 210 Fifth Avenue, New York MERTO! SPORTS ‘ CAPS &HATS | BULLDOG DIE-STOCKS | T has taken 25 years of specialization todevelopthe 5 Big Bull-Dog Features they are worth it. For instance, the dies open up there’s no “ unwinding” at the end of each cut. THE OSTER MFG COMPANY Cleveland, Ohio “RAHASTINGS-> Glass Curtaix Lights OW ONLY Is your Ford old er new? In E either case you can replace the $1.65 celluloids ir a few min with Gem Hastings Stylist i Curta Ligh TI Were $2.50 Gl HASTINGS MFG. CO., [ x Box 17, Hastings, Mich, U.S.A. © Colson Wheel Chairs and Cripples’ Tricycles Models for All Needs The COLSON Co. && 4 8429 Cedar St., Elyria, O. “# CatalogFree “I feel I’m going to unburden myself, oe Reggie did not answer. lighting a cigarette. She said, murmurously: ‘‘So many lov- | ers, I don’t know what to do. Not so many really, but enough so that I feel | surrounded.” | in a gesture unpremeditated, | all that. ““What lovers are for,” said Reggie. “Reg! Don’t be a lemon. What I mean is ” She threw out her young arms beautiful. “T always thought it would be fun to have a lot of men—well— interested in me. I've only got two, as a matter of fact—that’s a very modest number these days, I'll have you know—but they plague me, Reggie.” at yg “T like them both, and I’ve a dreadful feeling that I’m going to marry one of them before long. You know, when a woman gets to be my age, twenty-two next September—and that’s older than you'll ever be—she begins to have intuitions. She knows whether she’s going to marry or not. I feel it coming on, Reg.” “Which one?” he asked. “That I don’t know.” Reggie mused, studying the hot coal of his cigarette. “Why?” he said finally. why sp “Why marry at all? That's just what I've been wondering. But—-I don’t know people expect it of you, for one thing. And it is natural, isn’t it? I mean—instinct, and Ask Freud! He knows.” Her laugh had in it a troubled note. ‘One day it doesn’t seem to matter which man I choose, so long as he’s young and sound. My mind runs to a modest mansion on Elm Avenue, full of my own things —silver and linen and furniture. Children, too. I get kind of hungry for ” She shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. But the next day, or more likely the same night, I want—other things. Things not so easy to name, but more—more perfect. Then I feel like jumping into the car and beating it away from Foxboro at sixty miles an hour.”’ a “Feel that way to-night, don’t Trenna?”’ he asked, looking around at her. “Yes!” “Let's go,” ““Where?”’ “Anywhere. Difference does it make?” She put her foot on the starting pedal The motor caught with a thrilling, muffled roar. A moment later they were flying down the hill, if not at sixty miles an hour, at least at fifty. And they were headed away from Foxboro. They got home from that drive at an indefinitely early hour. In fact, by the time Reggie had walked the mile back to the tea house the first gray feelers of daylight were beginning to creep over the sky. Even then he did not go to bed, but sat by the window in his room, smoking a cigarette and watching, with a deep contentment, the shifting colored patterns of the dawn. **Mean you, said Reggie. v —" came back to Foxboro in Sé p- tember. Reggie had closed his tea house directly after Labor Day, and was once more a man of leisure. He dropped in to see Trenna the first night of her arrival home. It was about 7:30 in the evening when he rang the Kelseys’ dvorbeli. Trenna herself let him in. “Reg!” ‘“‘Came early,” said Reggie. ‘Avoid the rush.” She laughed, and putting her arm about his neck drew down his head and ki sed him. “You funny old nut. Let’s sit out here on the porch. Mother's in the living room. Simply got to talk to you, Reggie.” They sat on the porch, in the warm September evening, talking. About 8:30 Bert King drove up in his car, and a little later Charley Bingham arrived. The greetings were hearty, but somewhat forced. Charley Bingham produced a box of chocolates, which he opened with appro priate facetiousness. Still the atmosphere of the front porch continued to be charged with a slight constraint, a slight embarrass ment. Finally Reggie got up, in his languid, graceful manner. “Go see the family,” he “Night, Trenna.”’ ‘Good night, Reggie.” He nodded to the two rivals, descended the porch steps and sauntered off down murmured. THE SATURDAY He was busy * EVENING POST Bingham’s chocolates. In front of the Mendenhall house he stopped a moment, looking up at its discreetly veiled windows, his head on one side, his mouth drooping Then he sighed and went in. He found his family gathered in the up- stairs living room—his mother, his father, Belle, Jane and Aunt Victorine. “Well, Reggie!” “Lo. Thought I'd drop in, see how you were getting along.” His mother sketched the family of health. “Belle has a cold. Jane's coming dowr with one. My neuritis is better. Your father’s been working nights at the office.” “Inventory,” said Mr. Mendenhall wear- ily. ‘‘How are you, my boy?” “Right,” said Reggie. “‘Have you seen Trenna?” asked Belle looking at him with a peculiar animatio The light in her eyes was one almost eagerness. Reggie wondered. “*M’m,” he said. “Tell us, Reggie,”’ demanded Jane. “You know her best. Which one is to, Bert or Charley?” Belle interrupted before chance to reply. “It isn’t Charley. At least ” She stopped, confused, and looked appealingly at her father. Mr. Mendenhall spoke “Charley's been confiding in Belle. They go in on the same train, you know~— the 8:15. Eh, Belle?” “He told me,” said Belle more calmly, “that he hadn’t proposed to her. He isn't sure whether he’s in love with her or not If you ask me, I think it’s just because he and Bert have always been—rivals, and everybody expects - “Well, I think it’s “Don't you, Reggie - **Never can tell, Jane.” Aunt Victorine spoke up “‘Humph! Reggie could have her him self if he wanted her She doesn't look at anybody else when he’s around. I watched her that day of the opening.”’ “But—Aunt Victorine!”’ protested his mother. ‘Reggie isn't— Reggie couldn't get married if he wanted to. He has no money ty state she er gaged Reggie had a Bert!” said Jane “‘Have,” said Reggie. ‘‘ Made two thou sand dollars on the tea house.” A chorus of exclamations “Not” “Did you really, Reggie? I think that wonderful.” “Very good, my boy. Very good indeed.” His mother’s voice dominated the out burst “But it isn’t enough to get mar ried on!” “Trenna Kelsey’s got plenty, and to spare!" retorted Aunt Victorine, tena cious ly ( linging to her argument teggie would never marry for money,” said his mother with dignity. Reggie had been leaning against the mantel, smoking. Now he straightened up looking from one to the other with a mild and tranquil eye. “Already have,” “Have!” exclaimed Mr “Have what?” His voice Was as serene, a ever *Trenna,”’ he said **Married her Month ago.” Before she went away.” The family sat staring at him, their mouths open—a circle of round oper mouths in astounded faces. Reggie felt it incumbent upon him to explain, to go int detail, to be, for once in his life, loqguaciou He made an effort “One night out driving. Talked it over Decided. Drove to Greenwich. Borrowed money from Trenna. Bought a ring Minister married us. Came home.” He stopped and glanced about at them; they still seemed stupefied. ‘‘Thought we ye it over with,” he said garrulousl ** Ay nounce it later.” His mother’s voive was tremulous, a said Reggie. Mendenhall! drawling as most plaintive sut— Reggie! You couldn't —without telling u “Telling you now.” “‘But—you-—-where are you going live?” Jeauty of it,” said Reggi live in Paris. Paint there.” Aunt Victorine’s triumphant pipe rose clear above the ensuing babel “Told you so!”’ He escaped from them a ‘ could, slipping out of the room in the midst of a hot discussion as to whether a secret “Going to Soon a the sidewalk, munching one of Charley | f p \\ ‘\ ite ey YOUR Most Valuable ASSETS! lak. {1LTH— Effictency—Happin What a pity so many business men and women try to gain and retam them i spite of t FEI 84 } uu, for example, probably imagine that your ead or yout 1ina leone can j guide you to fullest enjoyment of these precious assets later, you'll d scover the tactthat can he comple te ly he althy or ethen rit or happy orsuccessful if irritated, com plaining FEE I j tMlUST BI 1 f » & fu rally shaped é are permitted to nay and drag atevery thought and act ROUND RIPPER WALKING SHOES will help you get the most and best out of life! INAL 1 \ iH GROUND-GRIPPER ryt GROUND GRIPPER SHOE 141 Brookline St., CO., Ine East Lynn, Mase ; . ~ Don't fail to * j ra \ write us at once ~ ) P \ for our ~ Medical Booklet A j on Feet. OO le j IT’S FREE! Og a >

Page 112

Genuine Champion X Ten years’ satisfactory service in millions of Ford Engines You know from experience they mean to your Ford engine the best results. Cores Champion Regulars Practically unbreakable in service, and the most nearly foul-proof core that science has developed. Genuine THE SATURDAY | | “As a money-getter the Curtis plan has no equal”— So writes Mr. Everett Squires, who is our subscription representative in a small New, York village. ‘‘No other work I have ever done even compares with yours in profit,”’ he continues; “yours is POSITIVELY the best.” Similar statements are continually coming in from representatives of Tue SATURDAY EVENING Post, THE Lapviges’ HOME JOURNAL and THE CouNTRY GENTLEMAN. For Curtis work is easy and pleasant, and offers to capable workers unlimited opportunity for profit. Our Offer: Here is our offer to you. Clip and mail NOW the coupon at the right, or send the same request on a post card, TODAY. We will tell you all about our plan. If it doesn’t look good te you, just drop the whole matter; you will be under no obligation of any sort. But if you do see in it a real opportunity for pleasant profit (as we are confident you will) you will be ready to start making money at once. Isn’t that fair enough? Clip and Mail NOWW@ MR. EVERETT SQUIRES of New York | The Curtis Publishing Company 641 Independence Square, Philadelphia, Penna. | Gentlemen: You may make me that offer | of yours. I don’t promise to accept, but T'll look it over. Name | Street or R. F. D | Town State | a cold, gave her an interrogative EVENING POST wedding ought not to be followed by a pub- lic repetition. Belle was the only one who observed his silent exit. She followed him and overtook him on the stairs. “ Reggie!”’ He turned, aware of a strange agitation in that trim, businesslike body. Belle’s hand was on his arm; it was trembling. “Reggie, tell me. How do you do it? How do you do it?” “Do what?” ‘Get what you want?” He looked into his sister’s face. Her up- turned nose, red now with the affliction of a pathet- | ically interrogative and beseeching air. ‘“‘Something you want, Belle?” “Charley,” she whispered; and then with a fierce choking sob: ‘‘Charley!” He put his hand over hers and squeezed it. ‘‘Ask him,” said Reggie. ‘‘Be a damn fool. Ask him.” Belle’s breath of a reply followed him | down the stairs. “I will, Reggie.’ vi T WAS afternoon of a day later. Reggie was alone in the tea house, packing and putting things to rights. He was glad to be done with the tea house; it had bored him excessively. Possibly Jane would run it another season. Silly of Jane to stick around home, running errands for their mother, when she might be out on her own. He would speak to Jane about it before he left for Paris. Paris! He heard an automobile stop before the house, looked out of the window and saw Bert King coming up the walk. The lat- ter’s face had a set look; his air was one of grim determination. Discomforting. “Trenna’s told him,” thought Reggie. “Wonder what he wants?” The matter was not long in doubt. Bert King opened the door of the tearoom, walked in and planted himself squarely in front of its proprietor. “T’ve come, Reggie,” said Mr. King, “‘to punch you in the nose.” “Why?” asked Reggie. Mr. King’s jaw—it was a fighting jaw thrust forward slightly. “‘ Just —for—my—own personal satisfac- tion.” “Oh.” “Been wanting to do it all my life,” continued Mr. King, drawing a deep breath. ‘All my life—and now ——” “Minute,” interrupted Reggie. ‘“‘Come outside. Ground’s softer than the floor.” The other opened his mouth to protest, but Reggie already was strolling across the room. Bert King, flushed with the rage of years, followed him out of the house and into the back yard, where a straggling apple orchard made sweet the autumn air. But Mr. King was not to be moved by any sweetness, of apples or of human per- suasion. He caught Reggie by the aeouler and spun him around. They stood eye to eye. “All my life!”’ said Bert; and added, “You never would fight. Don’t suppose you'll fight now?” “Can't,” said Reggie. ‘Not your way.” ““Won’t, you mean! Well, I’m not going to be done out of it,’’ shouted Bert. “I’ve always wanted to, and I’m going to—just for my own personal satisfaction!’’ He drew back his arm and shot it toward Reggie’s inoffensive and rather delicate nose. Something happened. denly and miraculously. Bert King. The ground dropped out from under him; an apple tree danced crazily before his eyes, and then—he was lying on his back on the thick grass, staring at the sky. He sat up. There was nothing before him but the mild September landscape. It happened sud- It happened to “Behind you, Bert,” came in Reggie’s deep, unhurried tone. : He spun about, sprang to his feet and made a rush toward the despised adversary. It happened again. The treacherous falling earth, the dancing apple tree, the sense of being suspended in mid-air. Then a crash, like something being broken at a distance. When he came to, Reggie’s arm was around him and his head was resting on Reggie’s knee. ‘What the hell?” said Bert King thickly. “ Jiujitsu,”’ explained Reggie. “Learned in France. Fellow in my company. All right now, Bert?” “Uh-huh.” Mr. King stood up. “Reggie,” he began—‘‘ Reggie, I——”’ But at that moment Trenna Kelsey, who was Trenna Mendenhall now, came walk- ing about the corner of the house, her hat in her hand, a luminous edge to her blond hair. “Bert!” she said when she saw him, and stopped a short distance away. ‘‘ What are you doing here?” Reggie spoke up, gravely, imperturbably: “‘Came out to congratulate me, Trenna. Right, Bert?’”’ “Right,” said Mr. King. sure do. Both of you!” And he went away. He strode off, his shoulders squared, walking rapidly in the direction of the highroad. They heard the sound of his motor, diminishing, growing fainter. The girl sighed. She was standing close to Reggie now, looking up at him, her hands on his shoulders. “T feel awfully guilty, somehow. awfully happy. Kiss me, Reggie.” Reggie kissed her. “T sure—I And vir HE Mendenhalls are still a bustling family, though their situations have changed somewhat. Belle is married to Charley Bingham and has a baby, a girl, to which she devotes herself in a capable and businesslike manner. Sue is expecting her third, which doubtless will be as suc- cessful as the two others. Mrs. Menden- hall divides her time between her clubs and the housekeeping, for Jane at last has shaken off the maternal apron strings. She has taken over the tea house, and runs it the year around. She is doing very well. All the Mendenhalls are doing well. The furniture business has returned to nor- malcy, and is beginning to prosper again. Mr. Mendenhall catches the 7:45 with all his former gusto. Aunt Victorine is planning to go abroad, to visit Reggie and Trenna in Paris. The family consider it most impractical of her, but she is going, nevertheless. Trenna’s baby, a boy, is named Victor, after Aunt Victorine. The Mendenhalls often speak of Reggie, and always with affection. When the news came that one of his paintings had been purchased by the French Government for the Luxembourg they made no attempt to conceal the fact, though when the painting in question was reproduced in the Sunday Times it turned out to be a most unmiti- gated nude. “*T see,” said one of the members of the Wednesday Evening Literary Society, to Mrs. Mendenhall—‘‘I see that Reggie’s had one of his pictures accepted by the French Government.” { Mrs. Mendenhall. “Yes,”’ answered “We're all very happy about it. — Whatsay, Mrs.Carpenter? . . . Trenna? Oh, no, I don’t think so. They have models for—for everything. It’s not con- sidered at all im— What say, Mrs. Fletcher? Lucky he married Trenna? Yes, I admit that Reggie never would have been able to earn his own living. An artist, you know. Soimpractical. But then’’—glanc- ing about the circle with a maternal smile— **Reggie always was a delicate boy.” — = See

Page 113

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST A Remarkable Piece of Furniture A Beautiful Davenport, of Authentic Design, that Conceals a Comfortable some idea of the important advance accom- plished during recent years in furniture of this type. Its low cost, good appearance, great comfort and pronounced utility are qualities shared by the products of eighty-three manu- facturers who have successfully endeavored to build better and more useful furniture. r SHE Davenport Bed pictured above gives Only in purpose does the modern Davenport Bed resemble the earlier pieces that lacked the smartness of line, the harmony of design and of color and the luxurious softness now combined with mechanical simplicity. Today, the Daven- port Bed is a remarkably: fine piece of furni- ture, available in any design you might wish in an ordinary davenport, and of equal beauty and comfort. Yet it serves by day and by night. Small wonder that the perfected Davenport Bed is being so widely accepted, even in homes wherethere is nonightly want for extra sleeping accommodation. To the eye, there is no suggestion of the Dav- enport Bed’s dual purpose; it is simply a low, comfortable, roomy and attractive davenport. Bed of Regulation Size Serves By Day and By Night port Bed shown ab g and short model ne arranged for night f equa dap peara But at bedtime this piece, by one easy motion, can be transformed into a real bed with springs and mattress of regulation size and type. In the morning it is as easily returned to its daytime appearance and use. Mattress and bedding are completely concealed from sight. In house,apartment or summer home, in living room, library, sun room or where you wish, the Davenport Bed serves every purpose of the regular davenport by day and offers restful com- fort for one or two persons by night. Everywhere, there are dealers who can pro vide you with the Davenport Beds to match your requirements, your other furnishings and your price. Davenport Beds may be had en suite or separately. Their distinctive appearance and practical utility are sure to win your favor Send for our handsome brochure. It shows a broad variety of modern Davenport Beds ina wide choice of sizes, woods and covering materials. AMERICA Chicago DAVENPORT BED MAKERS OF 900 South Michigan Avenue

Page 114

tnd the price is only ten cents! i ODAY > his work spec ds tor ward and there is contentment n his face. For early this morning this very busy man ent out for a Dixon’s | ldorado! ELDoraDO the master drawing pencil” TEN CENTS do and" Rest” Blu SAMPLE nd 10c h sampl ft ‘t Vai rat red Pencils SET, | DIXON CRUCIBLE CO &.J JOSEPH Dert Jersey Crry, N \—— — Sprinkle It — Your Foot-Bath Shake It Into Your shoes ALLEN’S FOOT=EASE The Antiseptic, Healing Powder for the Feet Takes the friction from the shoe, re lieves the pain of corns, bunions, callous and sore spots, freshens the feet and gives new vigor. Makes Tight or New Shoes Feel Easy At night, when your feet tired, and swollen from walking or dancing, sprinkle Allen’s Foot=Ease in the foot-bath and enjoy the bliss of feet without an ache. Over One Mii S lion five hund i Bip are sore MLERS foo casera In a Pinch, use ALLEN’S FOOT:EASE | over the boat itself? THE SATURDAY EVENING POST THE GALLOPING TIGER (Continued from Page 28) Are ” any higher position than any other. we not all artists, and fe A equals? “Right!” cried Shamus. “Especially as there are no two of us in exactly the same line!”’ “It fits in with my adaptive theory per- fectly,’”’ drawled Edouard. ‘‘We are not sailors, but we are men with the desire to sail in our hearts; therefore we will take the material at hand and make a sailing democracy of ourselves!” I listened to this breathlessly. Wasn’t it a beautiful idea? But Ted didn’t appre- ciate it a bit! He just busied himself with his horrid old pipe until his face got abso- lutely crimson over it. “Well, come on, you folks,” he said, “‘if you want to see the ship. This isn’t an ex perience meeting!’’ And with that he led the way down the long wharf to where at the very end a big sailing boat lay snug | against ‘the piles. The Sadie Brown of Boston was a vessel you could not help noticing, because as you approached her a distinct odor of fish —not very new fish—-began to sort of emanate from her. In fact she radiated an aroma of generations of fish, as it were, and if you had once been aboard her I am sure you would always have been able to find your way back, even in the dark. “You see she was a fishing schooner,” Ted explained rather unnecessarily. ‘But she can quite easily be cleaned up. She’s in swell shape except olfactorily.” “She’s a beauty!’’ exclaimed Shack as we boarded her. “Aship o’ dreams! What do you say she is called?” “The Sadie Brown.” At that a howl of protest went up from the entire crowd. “That will never do!” said Shackelton, who in spite of his declaration about having | no captain in our crowd could not help rather taking the lead. This was natural enough, too; a sort of instinct after all his voyages before the mast and his v olumes of sea poems. “That will never do!”’ said he. ““We must have an inspirational name—a name which means something!” “‘Let’s call her the Sinn Fein,” Shamus. “Not on your life!’’ Ted howled at once. ‘This is a strictly peaceful boat, even if it is a she!’’ ‘How about The Toddle?’’ I suggested. “She’s apt to, when we get out on the deep w ater, you know.’ ‘Dear Pet !"’ said Shack tenderly. suggested “Your | humor isso quaint! But I think that name hardly expresses us all, if youseemy point?” “ How about The Gauguin?” put in Mal- V ina. ‘Nearer, muchnearer!’’exclaimedShack. “But I think, some native word would be even better! “Native of what?’’ muttered Ted, nobody paid any attention to him. Then Zelda, who had so far contributed nothing but cigarette smoke, took one of the books she inevitably carries about, from under her arm. “a brought it along: my copy of Mur- phy’s book,”’ she said, “‘in case it would be useful. We may find a name in that!” “Good!” exclaimed Shack. “ Let‘ussee!”” and he began turning the pages over rap- idly, with familiar fingers. Ted came and looked over his shoulder. “Shadowy South Seas!’ he exclaimed. “Some book! Shadowy is right; they sure are shadowy, not to say shady! “Do you ‘know anything about the South Seas, Mr. Stonewall,” Shack asked coolly, “that you call them shady?” “Sure!”’ said Ted. ‘I know the natives’ favorite food is tenderfeet, but I’ll be game but | if the rest are! “Nothing of the kind!’’ reprimanded Shack. “Their native dish is called poi!” “Short for hoi polloi,”” Ted insisted. “However, why not call the boat Tahoa? I see it means a headache from thinking.” “I favor calling it the Moon and Six- pence!” said Shack. But nobody would agree to that, and | finally we compromised upon The Gallop- | ing Tiger because that expressed the entire Village, if you know what I mean, and all of us had a feeling of relief when so much was settled. “Well, come on, now,” said Ted a trifle impatiently. ‘Don’t you want to look eh “Wait!” dramatically. exclaimed the pale Edouard ‘Before I go onestep further on this voyage another point of extreme importance must be definitely arranged. This ship has no figurehead !”’ It was too true. We all went and looked over the end where the figurehead ought to be, and there was none. Ted tore his hair rather exaggeratedly, I thought. “What shall we do?”’ he exclaimed. “Calm yourself, old chap!’ said Ed. “T’ll tell you what I’ll do—I’ll make one.” “Something appropriate and in charac- ter,’’ I suggested timidly, for I remembered Smoke, “Of course!’’ our errand!” And so that was that! “Now that we have settled the two most important psychic points,” said Shack briskly, ‘‘let’s have a look at the practical side eh?” “If you really arg it necessary,’ said Ted, leading the “Well, here is the hold—we men will, , to sleep down there—it’s a little fishy now, but we can fumigate it.’’ ‘Sulphur candles,’’ said Shamus. “Oh, sulphur smells so horrid!” pro- tested Zelda. ‘‘Whynotuseincense? When I took my studio over the old stable I used incense, it’s so much pleasanter!’’ Shack ignored her. “T say, this will be really amusing!”’ he exclaimed. “Once we get it clean we will give it a coat of paint-—lavender walls with a cerise trim on the bunks! Ripping—eh?” “Just as you please,”’ said Ted, leading us on. ‘“‘Now here is the galley; the oil stove is perfectly good if it’s cleaned up a bit—messy cook, I'll say they had—and then come on aft ay “What's down there?” inquired Shack- elton, peering over the edge of a sort of sky- light-——hatch, Imean. He drew back hastily at the first whiff. “Oh, it’s only the tank,” replied Ted. “You ought to remember that, Salts. Didn’t you say you once sailed on a fishing boat?”’ “Er Shack. “Well then, that’s the tank, where they used to put the catch,” Ted went on smoothly. “‘You’d better start your fumi- gating down there. Just give a look here at the cabin—two nice little stz aterooms off it—see? For the girls, of course.’ “Light oak!’’ screamed Malvina as she entered first. ‘‘Oh! Impossible! We will have to paint it all! But give me time and I will make this ship a thing of be auty! I was an interior decorator for one winter, you know!’ “That’s all down below,” said Ted, turning to Shack and Shamus. “Don’t you fellows want to look at the Tigging now? ? She’ s got almost new canvas. “Sails!”’ exclaimed Malvina, her face lighting with an idea. “Sails! Oh, chil- said he. well, only for a short time,” said dren, wouldn’t it be wonderful if I were to batik the sails? Glorious orange and pur- ple, s say?” “Now that you mention it,” said Ted, “it would. But I think you will find plenty to do below—and on deck. And after all, white or even gray sails are pretty good, don’t you think?” “Ted Stonewall, that ’s the first sympa- thetic remark you’ve made to-day!” cried. “T’ll make another now,” he retorted cheerfully. “It’s nearly one o’clock—why not all come over to White’s and have a bite of lunch on me?” Well, everybody thought that would be splendid, only Shack could hardly bear to leave the ship. “There is such a lot to be done!”’ he said with a groan. ‘Just one more thing before we go. Of course I think we ought to do the whole work ourselves, but as the boat is so large, and as perhaps one of us might fall ill, or overboard, don’t you know, how would it be to have one—just one hired sailor to le nd a hand if—if necessary?” “T think,” said Ted seriously, ‘“‘it might perhaps be well. In fact I was going to suggest it. Not that we would let him really do anything but just, as you say, to lend a hand.” If the party had been enthusiastic before, they were now wild with delight. This idea of Shack’s was such a good one. That man certainly had a genius for thinking of the right thing. “Well,” said he, for us, Ted?” “will you engage one and Shack echoed my sentiment. | “A symbol of | April 29,1922 URING the . war the gov- | . ernment required bullet-proof steel body armor for ex perimental purposes in France. ‘Six weeks’ delivery,” said other con cerns, but government officials were advised by those who were familiar with our methods of quick produc tion to go to Mullins, with the re sult that the finished and assembled armor was delivered aboard ship in New York just 11 days after we re- ceived the order. Many unusual achievements mark our 40 years’ experience in all kinds of sheet metal stamping. We are the world’s largest manufacturers of many metal products. e are equipped—as no other company is—with machinery, men and experience to do your metal stamping better and at a lower cost than it has been done before. Send blueprints—let our engineers co operate with you in solving your prob lems—and write for the Mullins story. MULLINS BODY CORPORATION Salem, ne 110 — 1015 Mill St. RIENTAL Sanetitinn? Per- haps so— but at least an interest- ing relicof Asiatic Antiquity. Alleged by the Chinese to be almost uncanny in its power to bring to the wearer GOOD LUCK—Health, Happiness, Prosperity, and Long Life. This odd looking ring excites great inter est when observed on your finger. Go your local jewelry store at once and as to see this odd CHINESE GOOD LUC K RING and obtain a copy of its history. | None genuine without the = stamped inside the ring | In Sterling Silver popular size $1.50, light wel 00 also to eee $1 it in Gold If your jeweler will not supply you, write Desk 17, 1321 Atlantic Ave., Brooklyn, N. Y., and we will give you the name of a jeweler near you who will. "Toa ls FORMER On GAUGE > Oil Gace r Ford ple, a ate, e Hose Clamp, I { gn. Highly adjustabl Transformer. More power. Saves ga Wind Deflector. Beautifully finished \ WIND. bases be a safest and cheapest. / SHIELD t hand ; WIPER HOSE t CLAMP Dealers are anon to Deen: for attractive proposition Tabile ee Manufacturing C 1921 So. 20th St., Omaha, ‘Neb. , TS BOOKLET FREE HIGHEST REFERENCES PATEN BEST RESULTS PROMPTNESS ASSURED | Watson E. Coleman, Patent Lawyer, 624 F St., Washington, D.C.

Page 115

’ 1 | i ! } \ \ ' i | | .

REG. U. 8. PAT. OFF.

Automatic Windshield Cleaner

*s ove id out of the ju on ay . br I and tw ted metal a b brought fort maybe two or three They may be per nently crippled If tl I " ”? less it’s from sparks off the black cat itself?

Shade in the Garden of Allah ft BEDOUINS—that pictur esque pe ple ot the hot nd

blanketed desert long ago devised a front porch” for their tents with a covering to shield them from t Because wa rack { ' th, it rathe t! i threw it of it « ipo when the wir trom Bi it pr wider How different fro the n t " . -~ protec tha ( n ir America ron Trade Mark Self-Hanging, Wind-Safe Porch Shade

( ' ' ; ’ t t i \“ The em ‘ ‘ w i t ( rr ' und ‘ und self-ha Write for dealer A COOLMOR Shade 6 ft ' , a drop of 7 1t. 6 $640 rth of Alabama and « {< id The Raymond Porch Shade Co. 270 Post Street, Janesville, Wisconsin

Improved Dayton Airless re Y | : BIG MONEY e The Dayton Airless Tire Co Dept. 320 Dayton, Ohio

Page 116

“travelo” Regular Dark Brown Heather Medium Light Green Heather Dark Greenish Blue Heather Dark Heather tinged with red Green and Black Twist

or All Men for All Purposes! To some men “travelo”’ is the great- est jacket ever devised for sports wear; others insist it must have been invented for the special benefit of salesmen and others who travel; still others look upon it as a jim-dandy work jacket for store, office or fac tory. You know best why you want a ‘‘travelo,”’ but no matter what you want it for most, you also have this all-purpose, all-vear jacket for all other wear. And remember, only in the genuine ‘‘travelo” do you get the particular fit, shape and wear which the original andexclu sive “‘travelo” elastic-knit process insures. e

Over 5,000 Dealers sell “travelo” knit jackets, in a varicty of models and colors, including many beau tiful heathers. Should you have any difficulty buying a “‘travelo,”’ write us direct, mentioning style, size and color preference. “travelo” ANIT JACKETS

PECKHAM-FOREMAN, Inc. 1909-1915 Park Avenue New Yor

“Head and Shoulders Above the Crowd— How to Get There” klet tha It does not paint any that you cannot realize, but it tells how we are helping thousands of young men to make the most of their t we are glad to send every “blue-sky is an interesting box ambitious young man ireams ‘Six Reasons” why A. Schools to help study hours. We will also give you the ‘ yo u should select the 1 nited ¥. M. C ma to qualify for greater responsibility, more congenial Our friendly or r better paying work larger manhood counsel is free Send this Slip United Y. M. C. A. Schools’ Correspondence Course: of positions lor which they affor anc

aining: Foreman- ship Highw ov i

Better Letters Love

tive Operat t hine-Shop Practice Me an al Enginee ' uty Husbandry

Shorthand and Typewriting Engineer — Drafting Stea

gning Management e of the Slide Rule Are you an ex-service man? United Y. M. C. A. Schools, Dept. 72-A, 375 Lexington Ave., New York City Ww itheut Trafic

bligating me, please advise regarding a course Please wr te plain! No. 747 COLORS | “Oh!’’said Malvina, chagrined. ‘That's so! I forgot we had no wiring on a sailing | boat! What an annoyance! But Poe will bring us good luck, anyhow. Not that I | am superstitious!’ | “Sure a black cat is an evil thing!’’ ex- claimed Shamus indignantly. ‘And Shack has a terrible fear of cats of any kind. Don’t you know it’s bad luck they bring, and no good at all?’”’ “Tt is not!” said Malvina furiously. “It’s good luck, and we need something to counteract this Pier No. 13!” Well, I did not enter into their squabbles then, for Zelda and Edouard and Shack were arriving simultaneously, with lots of luggage and in a high state of excitement. The instant Shack saw me he rushed right over and grabbed me by the arm. “Pet, we are lost!” he whispered. “TI must hide you at once until we sail. Do you know who is on the end of the dock in a motor? Your mother!” “Well,” said I, outwardly calm but in- wardly trembling, ‘go help her with her bags. She’s coming with us!” “Pet Torrington, I thought you were a real radical!’’ he said solemnly. ‘And now you bring along your mother your mother! I am inexpressibly shocked!” But he fetched her, none the less, and the news was broken to the rest, and mother was really a dear to them, looking awfully smart and pretty, though large, in a blue serge coat and striped skirt, and examining the boat through her lorgnette, v very ami- ably, making them all like her tremen- dously, the way she can when she wants some thing. There was no sign of Ted. “‘Confound him!” said Shackelton, after we had finished a picnic lunch and waited around and gone ashore to telephone in- numerable times, but to no avail. ‘‘Con- found the man, I’ve a good mind to sail without him!” “But there isn’t any wind!” objected Shamus. ‘‘And besides, he was to bring asailor. Sure and I think we should wait for the poor kid—I mean lad!” “I should say so!’’ I cried indignantly. “Sail without Ted Stonewall on his own ship? Over my dead body!” “Don’t get excited, dear,”’ said mother in that soothing way of hers which irritates me so. “There is no need to worry; Ted will turn up, I’m sure!”’ And mother was right, as she sometimes is, for about mid-afternoon Ted did turn up in a state of breathless excitement. With him were two strangers, who hovered

THE SATURDAY

EVENING POST in his rear while he gave us his news; and a queerer pair I never saw. One was palpably the hired, sailor: a stalwart man with stubby brown sideburns, professional wide-bottomed blue trousers, | a short sailor jacket and a round cap with | ribbons on it. He stood there, spitting | behind his hand and occasionally giving a | hitch to his trousers, and he was, I suppose, a typical sailing-boat sailor—a very ex- | treme case, I judged, but competent. There was nothing queer about him except the perfection of his British-tar type, if you | know what I mean. But his companion was certainly a most remarkable figure. This other was an unusually tall, bony man with a hawklike nose and eyes and a terribly weather-beaten face. He stood with a peculiar slouch, and his glance fairly burned me up when I met it. But striking as his face was, his clothes were even more peculiar, for he wore a Russian- peasant smock belted with a bright sash, high boots, into which his trousers were tucked, and a round astrakhan cap. His long white whiskers swept across his chest. | It was to this person that Ted pointed as he spoke to the assembled crew of The Galloping Tige r in a hoarse whisper. “Friends,”’ he said anxiously, ‘‘a most unexpected and amazing thing has hap- pened. That’s what delayed me so! old friend of mine from Russia—a man who befriended me when I was there, in Siberia, and to whom I owe my life, in fact—has just arrived in this country, only to find that he is wanted by the police. I have An | brought him to you, to beg that we take | him with us on our voyage!” “From Russia?”’ “Your friend? Bring him, of course. is he?”’ “He is a great poet,” explained Ted. “That's why I thought you would not mind, although he doesn’t speak any English. Hisnameis Andrey Kropushkin!”’ “Oy! The great man!” cried Zelda. “What an honor!” “Do you speak Russian?” asked Ted in a choking voice, whirling on her “Alas, no!’’ she mourned. “I’m afraid none of us do! But he maybe speaks a little Yiddish?” “Well, never mind that,’”’ said Ted. “I talk Russian enough to make him under- stand me. I'll go fetch him and Harry Binz aboard, and, then let’s be off before the cops locate us!” Who (TO BE CONCLUDED)

— 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. quotations from them for advertising promotions and stock-selling schemes is The use of our articles or

Table of Contents April 29, 1922 Cover Design by Norman Rockwell SHORT STORIES PAGE Reggie — Dana Burnet 6 Joseph's Coat— Marguerite Curtis 10 Once a Sloganeer Richard Connell 12 The Tip— Everett Rhodes Castle 14 The Galloping Tiger— Nina Wilcox Putnam 24 ARTICLES The Inside Story of the A. E. F.— George Pattullo et ; om Tropical Growth— Kenneth L. Roberts x The Print of My Remembrance— Augustus Thomas , 16 Shall We Finance Europe or America?— Carl W. Ackerman . 23 SERIALS Rita Coventry (Third part)—Julian Street . Ks cowie aoe The Covered Wagon (Fifth part)—Emerson Hough 20 DEPARTMENTS Editorials 22 Sense and Nonsense 85 exclaimed Shackelton. | April 29,1922

FOR YOUR SPARE TIME! Sell us your spare time. You should easily make each hour bring you an extra dollar. Scores of spare-time representatives of Zhe Saturday Evening Post, The Ladies’ Home ournal and The Country Gentleman will earn more than $200.00 this month, Why not you too? It costs you but a 2c stamp to learn all about our plans. Experience is unnecessary. Just clip oft the coupon and mail it today. Profits begin at once. The Curtis Publishing Company 642 Independence Square, Philadelphia, Penna. Gentlemen:—Tell me all about your spare-tim money-making plan. I'm interested Name Address Cit

in Machinery should be Eliminated. wes TEFUL of power. Destruc- tive—even dangerous

There is a sure method of balancing the rotat- me ing parts Trade Mark New booklet on Vibrations Registered yours for the asking VIBRATION SPECIALTY COMPANY 303 Harrison Building PHILADELPHIA, U.S. A.

Just Pass the Envelope Through | The “Brownee” Sealer

and it’s sealed neatly and securely with a single motion of one hand. No adjustments, no moving part Takes all sizes ot ‘ ere a mz en made, Easil att ached to desk, window sills, etc. Swings out of way when not in use. No attention ex- cept occasional refilling with water. If your stationer can’t supply you, send us three dollars, Your money promptly re- turned if not satistactory M. J. Brown Mfg. Co. Philadelphia, Pa.

, Fitti ng Tokens s, Endowments idard Bronze y an 200 cour corre-

A REQUEST FOR CHANGE OF ADDRESS must reach us at least thirty days before the date of the issue with which it is to take effect. Duplicate copies cannot be sent to replace those undelivered through failure to send such advance notice. Be sure to give your old address as well as the new one.

| obous

ORCHESTRA Music for Dancing, Ete. all populs ar hits im e will send and Send for FREE Cut Price Bulletin. Lists Orchestra Music at cut prices. If you senc 42 ’Scw orchestration of big waltz-hit “* By the Old ¢ Shia Shore . two good foxtrots. All 3 postpaid For onl) 25« i send at once. RCHESTRA MUSIC SUPP OMPANY, 315 W. Madison Street, Chicago, All musicians LY Tit.

Page 117

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Feo, het a As Re = POWER- which lightens the burden of thousands Fo rears ren And she: dows ali thew awne te Look About You In St. Paul’s Cathedral, which he designed, Sir financed by bonds; city schools and parks and Christopher Wren lies buried. A simple slab bears roads financed by state and county bonds—all these _— are, in part, a monument to the investments e WFR this inscription in Latin: ulus iret * g which Prudential has made for you. “IF YOU WOULD SEE HIS MONUMENT, / LOOK ABOUT YOU” ( F { Of your Prudential savings sucha sentence \\ Wherever you live a part of your savings is . . ~ : 4 y) : might be written. Farms and homes financed . 7 close at hand and at work. If you would see by mortgages; railroads and the telephone — them working, look about you. The Prudential Insurance Company of America Incorporated under the laws of the State of New Jersey Forrest F, Drypen, President Home Orricr, Newark, N. J. If every wife knew what every widow knows, every hushand would be insured

Page 118

SATURDAY EVENING POST ‘To compliment your guests—Premium Ham No matter how simple your dinner, if you serve Premium Ham it will be a subtle compliment to the good taste of those who share it with you. For while Premium Ham—a boiled shank-half especially —is easy to prepare, not extravagant, and will serve the family for meals to come, it is indeed an aristocrat among meats. It has taken years of constant care—in the Swift's Premium Look for this blue identification tag when you buy a whole ham or when you buy a slice selecting of meat, in the perfecting of the special sweet mild cure, in the skillful smoking over hardwood fires—to get that unvarying tender- ness and delightfully piquant flavor which dis- tinguish Premium Ham. Place a Premium Ham shank-half in cold water, heat slowly and let it simmer gently, allowing 30 minutes to the pound. Remove the skin while the ham is hot. Serve with buttered carrots and peas. Hams and Bacon Swift & Company U.S. A. April 29,1922

Page 119

BEAUTY - STRENGTH POWER - COMFORT THE NEW IMPROVED SEVEN PASSENGER TOURING CAR The exactness with which Haynes engineers and designers create the specific car for its purpose is shown in the new, improved Haynes 75 Touring Car. It is a true touring automobile — equipped for travel. On the rear a handsome moleskin-covered trunk is placed on the special rack, with the car body protected by heavily nickeled rods which add to its appearance; five separate package receptacles are cleverly arranged in the car; two spare tires may be carried flanking the hood —in every way thought- fulness has been exercised to provide the conve- niences the tourist demands. The car itself, with its three-quarter run- ning board, its searchlight head lamps, its graceful lines, its splendid finish, is Tue Haynes Automosite Company, Kokomo, Indiana °2395 the picture of power and dependability. This impres- sion is more than borne out by the mechanical excellence achieved by Haynes engineers. The new, already famous, quiet-running Haynes-built 75 engine is a revelation to even the most experienced driver. With the Haynes volatilizer to give it increased and immediate power, the pick-up and getaway of the car are admirable. It is one of the outstanding achieve- ments of the organization which has had the longest automobile experience in America. See this exceptional seven-passenger car at your Haynes dealer's shx ywroom We recommend that you place your order with him now for early delivery, for the demand is naturally growing rapidly. ¢ Export Orrice: 1715 Broadway, New York City, U.S.A 1 H 1893 THE HAYNES IS AMERICA'S FIRST CAR 192 GH (Co) \4 @ nG

Page 120

tf, §, ai Ron YuuuyvyY BOS HBURN-CROSBY - 2s aaa: — Ample >" ens ong 1g = See At yamere There is something about a good cake that your dinner has been a success. Just try our GOLD MEDAL cake recipe for you to make that one particular cake. GOLD MEDAL. The Gold Medal Cake GOLD MEDAL FLOUR— 214 cups 134 cups sugar Whites of five eggs ¥Y% cup shortening 2 teaspoons baking powder 1 cup milk 1 teaspoon vanilla flavoring Cream sugar and shortening together. Add milk alternately with the flour, which has been sifted with the baking powder. Add flavoring and mix well. Fold in the well beaten whites of eggs. Put in well greased cake tins and bake from thirty to forty minutes in a slow oven. This recipe may be baked in two large layer tins or three small tins. all wrapped up in a coat of cre To be sure of that ‘‘something”’’ you must use the right flour. and you will feel certain that the world’s leading flour was specially prepared It takes less flour to make better cake, pastry and bread when you use CESS EN TESTS ea ae i ea err 8 — ‘ The Chocolate Icing 2 cups sugar 1 tablespoon butter ¥% cup milk 4 ounces bitter chocolate (2 squares) tila small amount dropped in cold water forms a very soft ball. to cool and then beat until thick enough to spread on cake. For other recipes and cooking advice write EDUCATIONAL DEPT. Pil Sa BT cash LET WASHBURN-CROSBY COMPANY amy chocolate frosting that makes people feel Place all ingredients in a sauce pan and boil, stirring constantly un- Allow