The Saturday Evening Post 1923-07-07: Vol 196 Iss 1

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THE SATURDAY | EVENING POST Vol 6, Number 1 JULY 7, 1923 n- : waine con Albert W. Atwood—Lucy Stone Terrill—Samueil G. Blythe—P. G. Wodehouse Temple Bailey—Holworthy Hall—Thomas McMorrow-—Ernest Greenwood

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Dealer, a merchant you that permit no compromise "with quality, You are further protected indards to which the Silvertown is built with the tire he makes his leader—the Goodrich Silvertown Cord. ESTABLISHED 1870 In Canada~The B, F. Goodrich Rubber Company, Limited THE B. F. GOODRICH RUBBER COMPANY “BEST IN THE LONG RUN” SOLD BY GOODRICH DEALERS THE WORLD OVER can rely on, whose service is on a plane is protected by the one-quality policy back of the Goodrich Silvertown Cord. This protection is increased by the exacting £ z & 3 F 2 g a E by the Goodrich

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—_— a ———— —_ So a SOON NT E_ _—- it ~ en ee Seeeadnecentine aineeadieenalibo Oo — FO R YOUNG M EN Correctly cut, well tailored hot weather clothes There's the greatest difference between an ordinary suit of summer clothes and a Society Brand hot weather suit. One is merely light weight, while the other is not only cool but gives you the comfort and genuine satisfaction that go with ab- solutely correct clothes ~The fashionable cut and perfect tailoring make the difference. Society Brand Clothes ALFRED DECKER & COHN, MAKERS - CHICAGO - NEW YORK - In Canada: S THE SATURDAY EVENING POST AN D MEN WHO a eS YOUNG _— ee ee ltl tlt ~~ ~~ NN i te ee ee ee et ee et Ce ee NE N ————————————————_ —————————————————— I we me _ a — = ciety Brand Clothes Limited, Montres! 1} ae of wm LONSDALE A Society Brand two piece hot weather suit, in particularly good taste for the man of athletic build—two button — skeleton lined —slightly fitted at the waist. Straight trousers with cuff. TERRACE A Society Brand sports model, with trim lines. Two button; two small pleats under the belt,inverted pleat from belt to bottom; three-quarter loose belt. FABRICS Society Brand Clothes for hot weather l orsteds, moha come in ' nuca we gabardines—all! the cool fabrics The Kant Slip Waistband A simple, very effective comfort fea ture; the Kant Slip waistband keeps the shirt down and the trousers Exclusive with Society Brand

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST “I'm terribly sorry to have kept you wait- ing, Jane,” Mrs. Jollyco is saying, “but Elektra is ill and I've been washing the luncheon dishes.” “I've just been through the same ex- perience fora week,” replies Mrs. Latham. “And just look at my hands! Did you ever see anything so red and rough?” July 7,1925 “Why, Jane, dear, how awful! I never have to worry about my hands—see how smooth they are! Of course, we alw ays use Ivory Soap for dishes. It seems to prevent any of that roughness or redness.” “Well, of all things! I never thought of that!” To assure protection to all things that need summer cleaning “Mr. Jollyco, excuse me, sir, but I understand you have specified Ivory Soap for washing the office linoleums Don't you think that’s pretty expensive?” “I've done that, Jimpson, because the linoleum manu- facturers wrote me last week that strong soaps rot the fibre base and soon ruin the linoleum itself. They have tested every soap on the market and found that Ivory is one of the very te soaps they are willing to recommend. So I guess we'll save money in the end.” “Well, that’s certainly news to me, sir. I supposed any soap was good enough for linoleums.” No, Mr. Jollyco is right. Linoleums are very sensitive to soap, Ivory is the on/y generally known soap that ap- pears on the approved list. We'll be glad to show you the evidence, Women who take good care of their sensitive skin know that Ivory Soap is a faithful protector against the glare of summer suns. The purity that makes Ivory thus beneficent for tender skin also renders it kind to delicate garments and to all those hangings and household furnish- ings which so readily collect the dust that swirls through summer’s open windows. A special large size for protection and economy For the washing of all such things— silks, sheer cotton voiles and dimities, delicate-hued blouses and skirts, sum- mer chintzes, table-linens and_ bed- spreads—a special laundry size of Ivory is made. This fine, big cake of Ivory is exact- ly the same soap as the Ivory you use on your face—pure, mild, gentle, white. Indeed, it is as fine a soap as skill can make and money can buy, yet it is economical enough for general house- hold use! Harsh soap is destructive to fine fabrics and tender hands Harsh soap is destructive to linens and cretonnes and silks. Harsh soap shrinks and mats delicate woolen fabrics. Harsh soap soon ruins varnished surfaces and linoleums. And when you use harsh soap for washing dishes, you oo. only too well what happens to the tender skin of your hands. So it is only natural that, in seeking a means of protection both for these precious possessions and for your hands, you should turn with confidence, like so many millions of other women, to Ivory Soap. May we suggest, therefore, that when you buy the smaller size of Ivory for your toilet and bath, you also buy, for both protection and economy in your general cleaning, several cakes of the large size, also? We have published a booklet called “Un- usual Uses of Ivory Soap.” We shall be glad to send you a copy free. A post-card will bring it. PROCTER & GAMBLE CINCINNATI IVORY SOAP 99 *4/100% PURE (ca) IT FLOATS = Copyright 1925, by The Procter & Gamble ¢ Cincinnati

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Published Weekly The Curtis Publishing Company Cyrus H. K. Curtis, President C. H, Ludington, Vice-President end Treasurer P. S. Collins, General Business Manoger Walter D. Fuller, Secretary Wiliiam Boyd, Advertising Director Independence Square, Philadelphia London: 0. Henrietta Street Covent Garden, W.C : Sc. THE cCoPpY 10c. in Canada Volume 196 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Founded A°D' 1728 Sy Benj. Franklin Copyright, 1923, by The Curtis Publishing Company in the United States and Great Britain Title Registered in U.S. Patent Office and in Foreign Countries PHILADELPHIA, PA., JULY 7, 1923 George Horace Lorimer EDITOR Churchill Williams, F. S, Bigelow A.W. Neall, Arthur McNeogh T. B. Costain, Thomas L. Masson Associate Editors Additions Chicago, I) be Seginew, Mich., Des Moines, le elveston, Tex Fortland, Ore., Milweuhee, Wis, end St Poul, Ming Entered os Second-Class Matter at the Post-Ofiice Department, Ottawa, Canede THE YEAR Number i by Subscription $2.0 WHEN THE OL FLOO By Albert W. Atwood HAKSPERE said that there is a tide in the affairs of men which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune. But having lived several centuries before a modern oil boom he could hardly have realized what such words mean now. For of all high tides in the affairs of men, none is at once so productive and destructive of national, commu- nity and individual wealth, and none combines such beneficent and demoralizing effects as one of those floods of liquid gold which, with its accompaniment of sheer frenzy, now and then deluges this or that portion of the North American continent. Every flood of oil, every excitement in oil, has features common to all. The same phenomena ap- pear and reappear, startling alike to onlookers, amateurs and newcomers, but an old story to the so-called big companies ard the talent. Many times before has the industry gone through this big, or overproduction, phase. But the characteristics of an oil boom are about as tame and dull as those of a cyclone or an earthquake, and no one complains that these are uninteresting because they have happened before Men who live through a crisis of any kind wreck, a physical combat, a panic on the stock ex- change—are at the pinnacle of emotion, 10 matter how many others have gone through like experiences before for more reasons than can be gone into here, to a chapter in the long-unfolding romance of the de- velopment and perhaps the wasteful exploitation of national resources, as well as in the history of human behavior and emotion a ship- In any case, each great oil boom is entitled, Suburban Fields INHUS it is that in the newest and one of the great- est floods of oil, that in the Los Angeles basin of Southern California, there can be traced the identical peculiarities, the similar distinguishing traits that have marked the golden torrent in a dozen other dis- tricts and states. There is, to note only a few of the well-recognized tokens, the same optimism in the air, the same enrichment of landowners, the same frantic } effort to provide facilities for the oil itself, the same energizing and stimulating of the communi- ties directly affected, the same exaggerated ex- pectation of riches for all and the exact certainty, as of death itself, of disappointment to many in the end But the newest flood has quite enough — too much, perhaps— that is distinctive, that indeed is sensa tional, not only in its effect upon the industry itself but in its fantastic, its extravagant accompanying features. To begin with, this is the first oil flood of major proportions, the first excitement of prime dimensions to break loose literally at the gates and within sight of a city of metropolitan siz Drilling de Luxe HERE have been many oil booms, but here is a discovery that in a remarkably short space of time has upset the markets, and promises for years to come to control and dominate the entire industry Yet it is in the back yard, as it were, of a city which, with its immediately surrounding area 1,000,000 people excitement, and it takes no imagination to picture the results, although in this article they will not be left to the imagination Three great oil fields, any numbers This, indeed, is a novel flood, or one of them a sensation in itself, have come in, to all intents and purposes, simultaneously. They are within fifteen miles of one another, and all are on the edges, practically speak ing, of the city. They have all been developed within flood has come within a rel two years, but the atively few months The first of these fields bathing resort, the second is in what was one of the to be developed is in a most exclusive and promised to be the most exclusive residential section of the city of Long Beach, and the third is in a near-by orange grove, or groves. To all these places one can go by boulevard in hardly more than a few minutes’ time ‘You haven't got an oil field here,”’ say operators from Texas and Oklahoma, a to axles deep in mud and the hardships and priva- customed as they are tions of primitive, almost desert wastes You are COPYRIGHT BY AEROGRAPH COMPANY, LOG ANGELES, CAL. Signal Hill From Long Beach. Above—An Oil Well in Action

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST July 7, 1923 drilling for oil at Fifth Avenue and Forty Street, wit! econd Nat irally, normal tr: the last few montt used if the heart of each field But, a with other big o compared to get t on the renzy juipmer rround or the com- lete swamping of living facil With three r four major team railroads, a highly developed interurban system ind the highways to he concrete found in the vicin ity of California Andwhyshouldn’t they—forthe gush- ers and gassers are at their very doors? Oil is not something to be read about in Los Angeles; it issome- thing to be looked at. It is not an investment you know about only on paper; you can touchitif youwant to. Youdonot buy oi! stock or units in Southern Cali- fornia as the result primarily of read- ing prospectuses or advertisements, or even in quence of the line of talk handed out by slick promot- ers, although that plays an impor- tant part. You buy oil securities there because you see derricks and conse- cities, there has naturally been less of a transportation problem than usually confronts the development of a new oil field Geologists, accustomed to adventures in the wilds, never yet over their amazement at being able to hop in their cars and roll out to the fields and back again to their clubs for incheon. Indeed, they can look at the derricks from their permanent offices in the financial center of the city. Oil- supply companies were already located there. Workmen ean live anywhere they want instead of in hastily erected s, and if the fat bonuses which many of them receive for extra-hazardous work or for extraordinary effort weighs heavily in their pockets, they can spend a night, if they so desire, in the luxury of the best hotels which this re and luxury affords, shacks city of leisu The Universal Obsession N ONE sense, at least, an oil boom is rather lost in such surroundings. The same discovery in a desert waste would ereate more excitement and more astonishment. “For,” as the loyal Anreleno puts it, “we have real estate, citrus fruits, tourists and climate as well. Oil is not the only thing, the way it was in the fields of Central Texas.’ Some New Skyscrapers in Long Beach street car for a trip to the derricks, and is back to an early tea. It is the easiest and most popular Saturday and Sunday afternoon recreation in Southern California. Twice the statement was made to the writer that 1,000,000 people in California are interested in oil. This seems extraordinary and on its face impossible, but it may not be far wrong at that. It is known that 40,000 people are em- ployed in connection with the oil fields in the Los Angeles basin alone. Certainly many hundreds of thousands of persons are interested as investors or in other ways. De- spite its facetious vein, the following item from a local newspaper indicates how widespread the interest is: “It is said that less than one per cent of the investments in the oil industry in Mexico are in the hands of the citizens of that country. In this country every man with ten dollars ahead is a potential oil magnate. Out of 100,000,000 Americans, it is figured that 99,047,612 have dabbled in oil investments at some time in their career,” It is exceedingly rare to meet any person in Southern California who is not interested in an oil well. The man in the street talks about getting down to the Meyer sands, although a few months ago he had never heard of Meyer wells and blow- outs. It is an ocu- lar demonstration that appeals directly to the pocketbook through the me- dium of the eye. But this is only the beginning; indeed, only the first faint intimation of a beginning of what has been going on. For, relatively speaking, there is probably no other place with so many travelers, pleasure seekers, vacationists, tourists, newcomers and new settlers. They are idle, for the time being at least, and many of them are permanently retired. The vast majority of them have surplus money to invest. The Temptation to Take a Flyer HESE people have both the time to look at oil wells and money to invest, if they care to, which is exactly the combination the stock salesman needs. It is a wonderful, 4 superb, an unprecedented situation from the promoter’s and salesman’s standpoint. The wells are there, the oil is there and the investors are there, by the tens, the scores perhaps even the hundreds of thousands, and most of them have money to spend. But this is by no means alli. Most of the newcomers are there in the carnival spirit. Pa and ma have come from Iowa, leaving th> boys to run the farm. They like it in Los But this is looking at the subject through the small end of the telescope. It is the lesser, the smaller truth. Except super ; not an accurate interpreta- tion of the facts The attention attracted to the oil fields, and excitement therein are intensified rather than diminished by the people so immediately One does not have to ficially, it the interest vast number of ontiguous thereto ‘ travel hundreds or even a thousand miles One packs the or more to see an oil field babies into the old jit or the Angeles or Long Beach. Pa has a little garden, but not much else to occupy him. Then a great oil strike and excitement come along, only two or three miles away, if they live in Long Beach. Practically all the oil securities of a promotional nature are sold in units of $100; it is unnecessary to pay more than a few dollars down. Everyone can buy. It is a new interest for pa and ma, for they can ride out every day and see the well and watch their little investment. (Continued on Page 86 Oul Wells in the Orange Groves, Santa Fe Springs. At Right—A Residence Near the Summit of Signal Hill, Now Used as a Clubhouse for Sheil Company Workmen. At Left—The Cemetery at Signal Hilt or his sands. Men in clubs will talk about the oil boom with a complete appearance of detach- ment and disinterestedness, and then, having finished the subject, will casually mention as they leave the room that they are in- terested in a well at Santa Fé Springs or Signal Hill or Hunting- ton Beach, the three big fields.

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| ry 4 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST By Lucy Stone Terrill ILLUSTRATED Br JAMES H. CRANK They Had Topped the Hilt and Come Into View of the Brown Residence. tains; sits as a scholar sits at the feet of philosophers, though it was named for the pungent, gray-leafed bushes that cover the hillsides, and not for wisdom’s sake. To John Shepherd, Sage City was the best town in the world, and he loved it more than he loved anything except June Cameron and his hardware store. It grieved him sorely that Sage City did not approve of June Cameron; that it should pronounce her uppish over nothing, like her mother. The town’s attitude, however, mattered very little to June herself. Sometimes it hurt her, as a sharp scraten hurts, its cause forgotten before its healing. But for her, Sage City possessed no power for judgment. She and Sage City had been children together. It was not so many years ago that a treeless Sage City welcomed broncos and spring wagons to its Main Street hitching posts, and its fierce-mustached marshal was undisputedly the leading citizen of the place. But today the rancher’s limousines park on paved streets, as do the cowboy’s flivvers; and Sage City has a stadium and four sedate street cars; and its tall cottonwoods rise pleasantly and crisply green along the city’s thoroughfares and in the proud young park. And today the marshal of Sage City is a kindly man from Iowa who prevails or fails with argument rather than with bullets, and few there are who even know his name or station. Contemporary with the town’s quick adolescence from pristine pioneering into mature and modern mediocrity was June Cameron’s development from tempestuous girl- hood into a slender, laughing-eyed young woman, whom some pronounced almost beautiful and others thought kind of queer looking, with her wide-set, slanting eyes whose lids lifted and lowered quickly at seeing you, as if frem surprise and subsequent amusement. Everyone thought she would surely marry John Shep- herd when she came back from Chicago, where her year in art school, for which she had spent her mother’s last cent of life insurance, must have at last convinced her that she wasn’t the genius she thought she waz. So, since she had neither procured a position as an art teacher nor sold a picture, Sage City gossip was of the opinion that she would marry John; and those who were tolerant went so far as to prophesy that marriage might be the making of her, Suis CITY sits in the foothills of the Big Horn Moun- But no. She had been at home just one day when she signed a contract to teach the Cottonwood summer school, an outlandish place somewhere in the dry hills., “Folks who won’t take happiness when the Lord holds it right out to them on a silver platter deserve all the wretchedness ..e doles out to them later on,” her grand- mother aggrievedly observed as they bounced about in the taxi on their way to the Sunday-night train. Mrs. Cameron always commented in generalities, a ministerial habit she had acquired from never having missed a Sunday- morning sermon in fifty years, except on that Sunday morning when June's father was born. “‘Now, grammy, you’re surely not meaning to call John a silver platter, are you?” It was always a temptation to June to translate these generalities into their intended applications. She knew that her grandmother was seeing her off at this unseemly hour, not through any affection or concern for her, Dut through almost trembling eagerness to see if John would not relent at the last moment from his angry resolve to put June out of his life forever, and be at the station to say good-by. Therefore she felt no gratitude for her grand mother’s companionship. The secret of June’s unpopu- larity lay in the fact that she reacted unconsciously to people’s inner motives and not to their outward manifes- tations. Now, in’answer to her grandmother's querulous observa- tion, she asked lightly, ‘‘ Now, grammy, you're surely not meaning to call John a silver platter, are you?”’ Ten years’ toleration of such smartness had developed Mrs. Cameron’s power of combative metaphor, the while it lessened not at all her disapproval. “There’s many a girl in this town who'd consider him a gold platter set with diamonds, young lady! And so will you—when it’s too late.”’ ‘But, grammy, really now, on your best Baptist word of honor, do you think it would have been right for me to marry John just because you and the Ladies’ Aid think I should—when I don’t want to at all?” Mrs. Cameron, her flushed, blue-eyed face aureoled by a geometrically perfect pempadour of whitest hair, caught her scarf about her shoulders with fingers that betrayed her agitation, Great Activity Surrounded It “But why shouldn’t you want to marry him?” she counter-questioned through tight teeth. “You've kept him dangling round long enough.” “T don’t think we'd be happy.” “Shucks! There isn’t a finer man living than John Shepherd. Why shouldn’t you be happy? Far as your painting’s concerned, John’s said no end of times that you could go right on fussin’ round with it the same as if you were single, and have a good home besides.” “Yes! Just the way mother went on with her music!” The words burned June's brain, but she managed to leave them unsaid. She hoped hotly that she could control her tired nerves for these last few minutes and escape from her grandmother in comparative amity. For, though she was loath to admit it even to herself, her own heart had found it none too easy to resist the arguments of the big, honest man who had loved her since her early girlhood. “Some folks, though, think they’re better than every body else. They don’t appreciate anything that’s done for them, nor ever try to repay it,” Mrs. Cameron largely observed, and June retaliated sweetly with similar weapons: “But we must be tolerant toward the erring ones and pray that they'll be led into the light, mustn't we, grammy?” “Oh, you—you think it’s smart to make fun of every thing I say! I-—I do declare I get so ashamed of your carryin'’s-on that sometimes I can hardly bear it.’’ “Why, what’s so disgraceful about teaching school, grammy? It seems to me just as honorable a way to make my living as by marrying John. I'll be out of your way and you'll have your nice spare room for visitors again, just the same as if I were married. Of course, it won't be so per manent; but I’m going to save every penny and ; “Oh, yes, yes! You'll save. Look at that hat! That's a great way to save, isn't it? Nineteen dollars! And had to charge it! That’s a great way; exactly like your mother—glib of tongue, and heartless, and extrava gant oa “Grammy!” The low, throaty cry stopped Mrs. Cameron's volley of accusations like a snapped trigger. In the dim light of the taxi June realized the fury that must be blazing from her eyes as she saw fear turn her plump grandmother's fac

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST from an angry pink to dullish white. Mrs. Cameron pushed herself ae far as possible into her own corner. “Now—now, I-—I " she began to stammer. Her futile apologetic voice brought reason into June’s rage of resentment “She can’t help it! She can’t help it! If God made her this way I can't change her,”’ she counseled herself with her swift saving sense of reality which helped her control her anger, though it left the hurt unhealed. She felt her fingers sink deeply into the plumpness of her grandmother's arms as she took tight hold of them, but her voice came with a quietness that brought a look of awe into the older woman's dismayed face. “What a contemptible thing to say, grammy! And not one true word! If my mother seemed glib of tongue to you it was because she spoke a language you couldn’t under- stand — the truth. If she had been heartless she would have left my father before | was born and have gone back to the And for you to say she was extravagant—after the ”” stage way she died! The way she died “Now, now, Junie, you know I didn’t mean “Ugh!” June loosed her hands as if they were suddenly burned. “ Don't call me Junie! You know you're simply hating me!” They were at the station. The taxi driver, with whom June had gone to high school, opened the door and began accumulating her many packages. June got quickly out with a short “‘Good-by, grammy,” took as her share of the luggage one suitcase, a broom and her portfolio, and hurried beside him toward the slowing train. “Now~—now, do take care of yourself, dear,’ grandmother “She's an awful sweet old lady, ain't she?” said the boy in a tone which made eloquent comment on June’s failure to answer the affectionate admonition. “Yes, awful,” said June. “Wha’s matter? John dead, or something?” he in- quired interestedly. “Look out, Harry! Don't drop that box of chalk! And hurry! There’s the porter.” She urged him into a run, feeling that if he mentioned John again she might answer with the broom handle, and hoping with an intensity that amazed her that John would step out of the darkness quickly—quickly, and tell her good-by. “Oh, how can he act like this? How can he? How can he?” her heart kept repeating with miserable inconsist- ency. Not until after the humorously oratorical porter and conductor had assembled her menagerie of luggage in the entry and the long train had gathered speed did she finally realize that John must actually have meant what he said We-ell, she had never intended to marry him, and she had never denied that she loved him, These alien conditions must of neceasity breed unhappiness. She could expect nothing else She took off the provocative nineteen- dollar hat and laid it on her lap. It was a gray hat, with soft silken poppies on its drooping brim —French poppies, hand- made. During the last seven of her twenty- one years she had yearned for such a hat, and now with her first promise of a salary she had made temptation her master. But at that, it was a gay thing the hat—and she had not the heart to regret its posses- sion. It gave her something of the thrill, of the spirit, of the heart lift, that her little-girl memories of her mother gave her. It had beauty; beauty, that transient quality which exists not in the beautiful thing, but in the eyes that look upon it. She put it on again and surveyed herself in the narrow, dusty mirror, unaware of the curious, sleepy glances of the passengers. Her eyes took pleasure in its hand-fashioned flowers, graceful and color-perfect, along the drooping brim, in the charm of its texture, in its achieved simplicity. That it made her pale face more winsome and lent light to her smoldering black eyes were detached details. The thing that mattered was that the beauty of it cleaned her mind of resentment and bitterness; it was as healing and satisfying to her—though the idea would have seemed sacrilege to that lady-—-as reverent prayer and repentance to her grandmother. She wondered a little as she again took it off that it should so definitely make her think of her mother; and head thrown back against the red plush of the car chair, she lost herself in strengthening memories. June’s mother had been queer, with a listening look in her eyes that had never been answered. She had married at nineteen, when she was singing in the first light opera and the last— that Frank Cameron ever saw. He had gone to Chicago with a carload of cattle and had returned with a wife. ‘“‘Damn poor business,”’ his fellow ranchers said in seemingly accurate prophecy. After his quick failure as a cattleman he came to Sage City and opened a grocery called her store, from which he contentedly gleaned a meager living despite the bitter unrest and discontent of his wife, whom he loved with a devotion that Sage City considered im- becility. Perhaps June’s passionate adoration of her mother was in part a blood bond with her father; it was more than the normal daughter love. It seemed unfair that her inheri- tance from her mother should have been a passionate dis- taste for all the things her father represented —the drudg- ery of labor and simple, unimagina- tive amusement. When her father entertained her he gave her a perilous ride on an apple barrel or allowed her the freedom of the candy case or played cat's cradle with a piece of twine. But her mother entertained her with beauty. Every night at bed- time she told her stories of what they would do “‘when father’s ship comes in,” glorious, sweet- voiced stories of adventures in far lands, where they ge i ar _te = “Oh, Little Star, Find Someone Etse for John to Lowe —and for Me Too,"' She Added heard great operas and saw wonderful plays, and wore clothes lovelier than thistledown and gossamer and flower petals. They sailed on marvelous yachts over sunny seas, and coasted down snowy moun- tains, all glistening with diamonds. They lived in beauty. But father’s ship never came in. And everyone except June saw her young mother change into a sullen, complain- ing woman, whose face became beautiful when she sang in the church choir, where her voice lifted above the others as the stars above the lights of a city. For June’s mother could have been a great singer, and her heart was an artist’s heart, with all an artist's bigness and littleness. She had no resources with which to combat mediocrity. One of June’s first definite memories of her was of seeing her stand in the doorway one summer night, her wistful eyes seeking the first star, and chanting in a low singsong, “Star light, star bright, first star I've seen tonight, I wish I may, | wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight,” and her father saying irritably but not unkindly, “ Always got your wagon hitched to a star, haven't you?” ““No!” came the sharp answer. “I fell out of my wagon when I married you, Frank Cameron. It’s June’s wagon that I've hitched to the star now.” June remembered this incident, because for a long time she thought they were joking about the little wagon her father had made her out of a biscuit box. It was several years later that something happened which gave her its true significance. Whenever John Shepherd said to her, as he so frequently did, “But, June, you don’t need to give July 7, 1925 up your painting when you marry me,” she thought of this second happening, and it made her deaf to his pleadings. She was perhaps about eleven at the time, and was sit- ting by a window in the waning winter light, sketching. Then her father’s voice, “June, run upstairs and get my slippers.” She heard him, but with no feel of being disobedient continued sketching. Again her father’s voice, “ June, get me my slippers!” “Yes, papa,” she answered, intending soon to go. Then, her father in the doorway, bulky, tired, angered: “Say! Are you going to mind me or not?” Before she could rise to his bidding he had her shoulders in his heavy hands; he was shaking her —not an unpleasant sensation. The shaking never would have made her cry out, but the charcoal drawing fell to the floor and he smudged it under his stockinged feet. Her protesting cry brought her mother from the kitchen, a potato and paring knife in her hands. June would never forget them—how they looked —her father mumbling an angered explanation, her mother standing, listening. Her mother stooped for the spoiled sketch; she looked at it and not at her husband as she talked to him: “If you want your slippers go get them yourself; and don’t you ever bother her again when she’s drawing, Frank Cameron, or I'll take her where you'll never see her again. You've broken me with drudgery and housework and poverty, but you shan’t ruin her life if I can help it!”’ “Ah-h-h,” her big bewildered father had remon- strated “you always talk as if I’d taken you out of a life of luxury! What’d you have when I married you—huh?”’ “T had my voice and my freedom to work,”’ she flung back at him. “It isn’t that I mind work —I could work to the death if there were any hope in it! It’s this endless drudgery with nothing to come of it that’s plain hell! And June shan’t do it! She's going to be a great artist and you shan’t stop her!”’ And her father, with a resigned gesture, had started upstairs, saying, ‘Why, my Lord! I don't want to stop her! I just wanted her to get my slip- pers.” What a queer laugh her mother gave! But the impressive thing, the unforgetable thing, was that her mother had said a swear word—her mother! June stared at her. Her father’s feet made soft pad- ding sounds on the stairs. Hell, hell, hell! It was as if her father’s foot- falls echoed the little word in June’s brain. “Why, mother, you June whispered. Her mother laughed again, but this time it was one of her tender laughs, like two notes of music. “Oh, no, dear, I didn’t,’”’ she said; “that’s just an expression.” “What's it mean?” The laughter went out of her moth- er’s face. “It .means poverty—that’s what it means—poverty!”’ she said in the voice she scolded with. Upstairs they heard June’s father fumbling about on the closet floor for his slippers; another emotion flashed across her mother’s sensitive face. “You should have gone for his slippers, though,’’ she said. “Try to mind him more quickly, dear. He does all he can for us.” June did not follow her back to the kitchen. There had been tears in her mother’s dark circled eyes and it always made her cross for anyone to see her cry. Grown people were very strange, indeed; there was no use in a little girl trying to understand them. It was only a year after this that her mother died-—such a horrible death. It had been Saturday morning. June was dusting the living room, and her mother, struggling with her unrelenting enemy, economy, was in the kitchen clean- ing a suit of June’s father’s clothes in gasoline. It had exploded, and in an hour her slender mother, with her singing voice, lay dead. The flames, her screams, the neighbors, strangers, doctors; strong, strange smells of medicine and burnt cloth and wood; women trying to get her away; her frenzied desperation to stay with her mother—all these things made so terrible an impression on her that, for as long as he lived, whenever her father touched her, her flesh actually shrank from under his hand. Then, at the last, the bedroom cleared, everything so quiet, and the strange, queer smells, her mother wanted to have June—alone. The big doctor came and got her. They passed her father, a hunched, bent object on a chair outside the door. “H-h-honey,” he said, and stretched out his hand to June, but she shrank away from him with a horrible, hot feeling of triumph that she never forgot. It was she whom her mother wanted; he was to blame for all this. you swore!” ”

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Inside, only her mother’s great dark eyes, like two holes the white bandages. June could not touch her; she could not kiss her. Her mother’s eyes were talking to her. She closed them, and June knew it was so she might kiss her eyelids. Then—her mother’s voice, only a whisper, faint, thick and muffled; the words had no beginning and no end “L-listen, dear; never marry a poor man; keep on with your painting; don’t get discouraged; re-re-remember! My dear, dear lit-tle ” June could not answer; terror had taken her voice, taken her tears. She was clay, being molded. She could only kiss and kiss the smelly bandages. The whispering sounds came again, impossible to hear. Then, suddenly, shrill, piercing, so that June screamed also, she called her husband: “Frank—dearest!"’ She, June, was forgotten; and her father pushed her aside, his tears falling on the bed; and her mother held her poor bandaged hands up to him and died close in his arms. And the big doctor closed the door. Perhaps it was not poverty that had been her mother’s devouring enemy—perhaps it was love. ei i T WAS one o'clock in the morning when the train stopped at Cottonwood, and it was dark, and it was driz- zling rain. June felt her courage deserting her almost as swiftly and relentlessly as the departing train, which writhed away into the darkness like a great black serpent in a great black sea, hissing sparks of rage for having had to stop in these barren Wyoming hills to deposit one insig- nificant passenger. “Too bad we ain’t closer to the station house ."’ the inter- ested conductor regretted as he hurried her off into the night. ‘‘How the dickens you’re going to carry all this junk’s more’n I know. You've sure got everything but the schoolhouse and scholars. Say, don’t you want me to take these maps and this here flat thing and throw ’em for you on the platform?” “Oh, yes! But take this instead!” Frantically she exchanged the broom for the flat thing, which was her portfolio of sketching materials, and was left with two suitcases, a cumbersome package of kindergarten busy work, a box of chalk and her portfolio. The county superintendent had advised her to take some immediate equipment with her, and June had been anxious to please. Well, here she was, at the gate to ambition’s highway. She stood motionless and watched the end light of the train THE SATURDAY EVENING POST dim into the darkness. Then she awkwardly annexed her bundles and felt with insecure feet for the slippery railroad ties. After stumbling along in the rainy darkness for sev- eral hundred feet, a faint ray of light established the ex- istence of the station house. Following its direction, June discovered the steps, fumblingly located the door knob and entered —to confront an astonished, unshaven agent lounging in a wooden chair with his heels perched on the top fender of a round, rusty stove. “Well, where the devil have you come from?” he gave her greeting, while he deliberately assembled his long body into a normal sitting posture. “Off the train. I’m what you call a passenger.” “Well, you don’t say so! Looks like you'd ’a’ come in the daytime.” June absorbed the logic of this observation while she ar- ranged her luggage on the bench and ruefully regarded her unpaid-for hat with its damp, drooping poppies. The man exuded unfriendliness; she felt a little afraid of him “Well, I reckon you’ve took up a homestead.” “You overestimate me’’—she gave him an ineffectual smile —‘‘I haven’t even took up my broom nor the map of America, which I can see I'll have to do without any assistance.” But not until she had located the map and broom at the far end of the platform, and was returning, did he find energy to comment indifferently, “Well, I reckon you know what you're talking about, which is a darn sight more’n I do.” June sat dewn amidst her surrounding luggage and tried to find words with which to broach the subject of a night's lodging. The dampness gave a luster to her shining, smooth, black hair, and her dark eyes gained a softer bril- liance because of her pale cheeks. She had never more closely touched real beauty than at that moment, leaning back wearily in her crumpled gray suit with her flowered hat on her lap. But the agent’s gaze was as unaware of any charm of her as if his little amber eyes had been merely two freckles, larger and deeper set than their many com- panions on his long cheeks. June sat up firmly and sum- moned a pleasant businesslike voice. “The county superintendent told me I might get lodging with your wife for a day or two until I can find a per- manent boarding place.” “Oh, she did? Well, I ain’t got any wife; I never did have; and what’s more, I ain’t never goin’ to have!" The emphasis of this last statement left nothing to be divined as to his attitude toward the other sex. “Then—then it seems the only thing for me to do is t stay here the rest of the night,” she apologetically sug gested “It may seem that way to you, but it seems a heap dif ferent to me, young lady Reluctantly lowering his feet, he set them under his long body and crossed the room to a rack whereon | slicker and a shriveled hat. These he donned with omin deliberation while he made mumbled explanatior “There's a woman named Brown homesteadin’ just across the gully. She’s been boardin’ the schoolma’ams for the few days they stay with it. It’s more'n likely she’!! take a shot at us, nosin’ round this hour o’ night. She’ hell ona gun. But they ain't nothin’ else to do far’s I can seu " June swallowed into a dry, hurting throat. It must have been in some other incarnation surely that she had known and renounced the shelter of John Shepherd's big tender arms. With a last rueful glance at the perishing poppies she put her hat on and began obediently to gather up her luggage, while the agent opened the door, propped it ba with a broken brick, and having watched her fai! with sev eral attempted arrangements of bundles commanded mag nanimously, “Leave that odd junk carry stuff y for me; you better yu can hang on to. It’s slippery It was, indeed, slippery. The dampened alkali dust had become a mucilaginous hazard for human equilibrium, and the night was a great black enemy weaponed with car tracks, precipitous banks, barbed-wire fences gopher holes and sagebrush. Wordless, except for an occasional and emphatic oath, the agent went stumbling on until they confronted the dim outlines of what looked to be an im mense soap box hatted with a tall, tipsy stovepipe whos« wires rattled in the night wind he informed her. ‘ Now With which brief advice | hastily ambushed himself behind a fat sagebrush, leaving June standing in direct range of the expected welcome “Mrs. Brown!” he called huskily. ‘Hi! Mrs. Brown!” Mrs. Brown dia not hi. The slow raindrops fell around them like soft, smothered laughter “You better squat down,” he again warned her in a hostile hiss. ‘“ You won't feel so brave, once the old gir! gets into action.” Though strangely deaf to his first call, M evidently lost no word of this last injuncti convincing as any gunshot fell on them. Continued on Page 102) **This is the damned place,” squat dovmn before she shoots.” rs. Brown's ears for a voice as “You Better Squat Down,"’ He Again Warned Her in a Hostile Hiss. “You Won't Fect So Crave, Once the Old Girt Gets Into Action"’

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST HE panaceist differs from the reformer in 4 ki his theories are usually economic or political, whereas the activities of the reformer comprehend every phase of civilized and unciv- ilized endeavor, from the morals of the masses, the immorals of the classes and the nonmorals of the savages to the way a girl should wear her hair. The pana- ceist is a reformer, of course, none more so, but he specializes ordinarily in money and government, while the whoie boundless universe of habit, custom, practice and per- formance of the human race comes under the supervision and regulation of the reformer, beginning with art, appe- tite and accumulation, and running clear through the catalogue of man's exemplifications to the abolition of the zenana and the conversion of the Zindikites. Money in its various demonstrations being the most important attribute of life, in the common view, it is not surprising that much of the thought and effort of the panaceists has been expended on wealth, the lack of it, the surplus of it, and how to place it within the reach of the people, not overlooking the panaceists themselves, which is a problem worthy of serious attention. And as money in its physical form is the product of the Govern- ment, and in its intrinsic merit the result of government guaranty, it follows, naturally, that the deep thinkers about money thought deeply about government, too, for that harassing distinction “legal tender” always stopped the money thinkers midway in their thoughts. It all would have been simple if the authorization of law had not been required for the creation of money. Every panaceist could have made his own sort of money, and all would have been joyful. However, there was that obnoxious phase of it, with the consequence that the money thinkers were obliged to consider not only their altruistic premise that more money is the cure-all but also ways and means to get more money, and this obnoxious requirement led them to the schemes for remaking the financial laws to suit their demand for quantity as opposed to the more conservative practice of reliance in quality as the prime essential. The Demand for More Money "Ho do you stand on the money question?" heckled an insistent panaceist who was listening to the stump speech of a Missouri candidate for Congress. The candi- date endeavored to put off the heckler, but that could not be done. “How do you stand on the money question?” came again and again at the candidate. Finally, pushed to answer, dodging of no avail, the can- didate said “I believe in more and a fittener currency,” and in that answer he stated the case of the bulk of the panaceists since the close of the Civil War. There were plenty of panaceists before the Civil War, earnest patriots, with acres of theories on all sorts of gov- ernmental, financial and administrative matters, who could, and would, sit down with a sheet of paper and a pencil and block out a plan in twenty minutes whereby they could keep the Republic off the rocks if given the opportunity. Some of these even succeeded in organizing parties for the advancement of their theories and the establishment of their policies, but the Civil War itself, with its great finan- cia! disturbances and difficulties, bred the beginnings of the crop that was to shout for salvation through inflation, ILLUSTRATED By Samuel G. Blythe MOORE Bar GUERNSEY primarily, until the battle of 1896, when they went down to final defeat. Before 1862 the preservers of the nation along economic lines centered their discussions and expanded their theo- ries in connection with the notes of banks, which comprised our nonspecie monetary circulation. Soon after the war began, the Government suspended specie payments and took to paper issues. Several times in our history interest- bearing notes had been issued, but it was not until the act of February 25, 1862, that the Government put out noninterest-bearing notes. This governmental action started the financial minute- men off on a new tack, and they stuck to that until the “crime of '73,”" when silver became their paramount con- cern. They were in full ery for bimetallism until 1896, when Mr. Bryan led them to their most crushing defeat, and since that time they have been rather scattering in their nation-salvaging operations, although fully and freely vocal until the Federal Reserve System came into effect, and not entirely silent since that time. The currency law of 1900, which defined the gold dollar as the standard of value in the United States, was a facer, of course, but, even with that and the Federal Reserve System, there are signs that the panacea boys are thinking deeply, and evidences here and there that they will again get into action. The beginning of our great silver production was during the Civil War, but this did not affect our monetary circu- lation, because all that circulation was paper. The revision of the coinage laws and the codifying of them omitted the silver dollar from the list of coins. This measure, discussed from 1870 to 1873, was finally passed by Congress, and the omission of the silver dollar theoretically made the United States a gold-standard country. This was the “crime of '73,”" about which we heard so much twenty years later, and concerning which the late Senator Stewart, of Nevada, made terrific speeches in the Senate until the end of his service in 1905. Real economists, looking back at the tur- moil and fanaticisms of those days, say the truth is that the demonetization of silver at that time was the result of ignorance and not of intent, and that no one in legislative authority had any understanding of the significance of it. Meantime, the Greenback Party, which was to compose all our financial difficulties with paper money, was under way. After the close of the Civil War the increase in the gold value of the greenback, or paper money issued by the Treasury, harassed the Middle West, especially where business was adjusted to the high prices incident to the war. The Middle West has been most prolific in the pro- duction of financial panaceas, and when the Act of 1866 was proposed, which provided for the gradual retirement of the greenbacks, the welkin rang all the way from Ohio to Nebraska with loud cries of protest, and the region was vocal, from Buffalo to Omaha and beyond, with schemes to resist this outrage and to hold the ship of state steady on her course. The culmination of this preliminary crime against the people came in 1868, when it was proposed to pay all government bonds in coin, provided the bonds did not specify other method of payment. July 7,1925 This developed the Ohio idea, which was that all bonds should be payable in greenbacks at the option of the Government, and the Greenbackers rallied to that idea with fervor and in sufficient numbers to control the Demecratic National Con- vention of 1868, although the nominee of the conven- tion, Horatio Seymour, did not favor the plan. The Democrats got only eighty electoral votes in that contest, and the Greenbackers were silenced until the Resump- tion Act came up in 1874. Then the Greenbackers had a national convention and set forth their panacea, which had three principal theories: First, that all note circu- lation of state and national banks should be suppressed; second, that the only paper currency should be green- backs, exchangeable on demand for government bonds bearing interest at 3.63 per cent; and, third, that coin should be used only for the payment of the national debt and for the payment of interest on bonds specifying such payment. Monetary Legislation NE of my earliest political recollections, and one of my most vivid, is sitting, huddled in horror over the im- pending fate of the nation, while Gen. James B. Weaver, of Iowa, the Greenback candidate for President in 1880, raged up and down a platform, defying the money devil, and declaiming of the chaos to come unless the financial theories of his party were “engrafted on the charter of our political liberties,’’ as he shouted, ‘“‘and the terrible ten- tacles of the gold octopus torn from the throats of the common people.” In the general's view we were gone, sunk, a total loss, unless we heeded his voice, and I crept home after that speech, convinced that if General Weaver was not elected President the entire governmental struc- ture would collapse; not that I understood very well what such collapse entailed, except that it spelled ruin to every- body. In the elections of 1878 the Greenback Party had received a popular vote of a million, and had elected fourteen mem- bers of the House of Representatives. This was high tide for the Greenbackers, for although Peter Cooper, their candidate in 1876, received only 81,000 votes and Weaver got about 300,000, only eight representatives were elected the year Weaver ran, and in 1884, when Gen. Benjamin F. Butler was the Greenback candidate, his vote fell to 175,000; and that, practically, was the end of the Green- back Party as an independent and redeeming factor in politics. The panacea didn’t work. During these years the believers in ‘‘more and a fit- tener” currency were not silent—far from it—and though the inflationists were unable to halt the policy of resump- tion they did succeed in securing the appointment in 1876 of a monetary commission, and this commission reported in 1877 in favor of the free coinage of silver as well as gold. A bill for free coinage passed the House of Representatives in 1878, and the result was the Bland-Allison compromise, which was vetoed by President Hayes, passed over the veto, and remained in force until 1890. The House again passed a free-silver bill, and the Senate compromised once more, as is the habit of the Senate. This compromise lasted until 1893, when it was repealed, and after that came the final battle of 1896, for which Bland and Boies and various

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others had been the General Staff, but of which William Jennings Bryan made himself prophet, protagonist and commander in chief when he refused to stand either idly or silently by and see his dearly beloved common people crucified on a cross of gold. The fanaticisms, theories, cure-alls, salvations, reclama- tions and redemptions from stark damnation of the Repub- lie that all this backing and filling on bimetallism had created between 1873 and 1896, the wild imaginings of the inflationists, the political buck-passing and compromising that even extended to the Republican National Conven- tion that nominated McKinley at St. Louis in the same year, the natural tendency of money discussions to rouse intense passions, and the unlimited opportunities for the operations and oratory of the economic theorists came to high tide in the first Bryan campaign. ‘The free and unlimited coinage of silver at the ratio of sixteen to one without the consent of any other nation whatsoever” became the panacea of the moment, the guaranty of our further existence as a nation, the foundation upon which all our securities rested. We were lost without it. We were gloriously saved with it—gloriously and financially and bimetallically saved. Well, it didn’t happen. Free silver was sore stricken unto death in that 1896 campaign and, much to the aston- ishment of the crusaders for sixteen to one, the country continued on to prosperity. We didn’t drop over the preci- pice on the edge of which Mr. Bryan had us trembling. We were not wrecked on the iniquitous rocks of the gold standard. We didn’t fall. We didn’t even stumble, and once again a panacea was shown to be bogus—a nostrum instead of a specific. Hectic and Headlong Days UT those were the hectic days, with Bryan sitting in the press benches along with the rest of us at St. Louis and writing pieces for an Omaha paper, and then slipping up to Chicago with his crown-of-thorns speech in his pocket, and nominating himself for President, with Senator Fred Dubois and Senator Henry M. Teller and the rest of them marching out of the Republican convention because the Republicans preferred the iniquitous gold standard to the high and holy catholicon of sixteen to one; with Coin teaching his financial! school and sound-money parades that began at daylight and hadn't ended at midnight; with Mark Hanna hammering business into politics and politics into business, and setting a mark in campaign efficiency that all succeeding campaign managers have been shooting at, and missing, ever since; with Bryan, young, virile, black-haired, clear-eyed, and most amazingly and oro- tundly eloquent, crisscrossing the country almost from coast to coast, and speaking to vast concourses of people, all of whom heard him with admiration and most of whom voted against him with enthusiasm—those were the hectic and headlong days. Right in the middle of them were the Populists, who had made themselves into a political party at Cincinnati, in May, 1891, and who went into the panacea business whole- sale. Instead of confining their medicine for what ailed us at the time to one bottle, they had a case, a shelf of bottles, each bottle with a cure-all in it, and a combined dose of all warranted to produce the millennium in jig time, bring about the dawning of a new day with such a bang that it THE SATURDAY EVENING POST would shake us all from out the horrid clutches of preda- tory wealth and set us free to raise whiskers like Peffer's or go without socks like Jerry Simpson. The Populist Party was the outgrowth of the Grange and Farmers’ Alliance movements, and although it was not formally organized until the following year, it took its first steps in national politics in 1890, and proceeded quite a space on its way. The Populists carried the legislatures of Kansas and Nebraska, elected nine congressmen, and forced thirty-four others, Republicans and Democrats, to pledge themselves to carry out their ideas in a legislative way so far as possible. Then came the Cincinnati organi- zation, and with it their platform pharmacopeeia of panaceas for the diverse diseases that affected the body politic Ordinarily, of course, a panacea, as its name implies, cures everything, but the Pops took no chances. They put out numerous panaceas, as follows: First, and as the super-Sagwa, came the free and unlim- ited coinage of silver, which would pulp the money devil to a shapeless mass and cause the grass to grow in Wall Street. Then, to make the slaughter of the financial octo- pus a cinch, they advocated the abolition of national banks. These preliminaries observed and the monetary system of the country torn up by the roots, they got right down to the object of the meeting, proceeded in a direct line to the core and center of the money ideas of all economic pan- aceists, and demanded the issue of fiat money in sufficient quantities—the more the better—to transact the business of the country on a cash basis; and they put a little post- script on that demand to the effect that this fiat money must be lent to the horny-handed tillers of the soil, upon demand, at a rate of interest not exceeding 2 per cent with nonperishable agricultural products as security, thus show- ing that even altruistic nation savers do not entirely let go their hold on the main chance, even when reforming at a high rate of speed. All financial necessities thus provided for, the Populists took another slam at the special interests by advocating and demanding the national ownership of all means of public transportation and communication. They came out for a graduated income tax with the graduations especially adjusted to suit the needs of these patriotic proponents thereof, for the popular election of United States sen ators, the adoption of the initiative and referendum in slation, and the prohibition of the alien ownership of They called it a day, after they had enunciated that program, and stood firmly, and vocally, upon it until 1900, when they added some modern panaceatic improve- ments in the way of municipal ownership of all public utilities, and the disapproval of the issuing of injunctions by the courts in disputes between labor and capital. They nominated that redoubtable panaceist, Gen James B. Weaver, of lowa, for President in 1892, and got a popular vote of 1,055,424 and twenty-two presidential electors, together with several state legislatures, whicl enabled them, presently, to control five seats in the United States Senate. Then came the dog-day convention in St Louis, in 1896, when the fourteen hundred delegates took off their coats, their collars—if any—and some of then their shoes, proving incontestably that the statement widely circulated, that to be a Populist one must follow the intrepid and sockless lead of Jerry Simpson was with out foundation. A canvass by the reporters in the press section showed that every earnest but overheated pana ceist in that torrid hall who was favoring his feet while the fight between the opportunists and the middle-of-the- roaders waged clamorously and interminably wore. socks Tus a slander of the plutocratic press proved to be the vile, false and money changers’ thing it was. Bryan received 1042 votes on the first ballot and General! Coxey got 1, but the unanimity of the nation savers ended there, for they got into a terrific battle over the vice presi- dency, which was finally compromised by an arrangement whereby Bryan got the full Populist vote, but his running mate of the Democratic ticket, Sewall, was forced to split with Tom Watson, of Georgia. However, there were only 176 electoral votes for the ticket, all told, Democratic and Populistic, so the division really did not mean much one way or the other. After 1900 the Populists faded out of the political picture The Theories of Henry George Nee the allurements of pockets full of currency, the voters clung tenaciously to the anti- panacea idea that it is more advantageous to have one dollar that is worth a hundred cents in gold than it is to have a hundred dollars worth nothing but the political de cree that ordered them printed. Like the Greenbackers, the Populists misjudged the effects of quantity when opposed to quality, but they made quite a noise when they were fully vocal, and those of them who are left undoubtedly point with pride to their advocacy of the income tax, the initiative and referendum, and the election of senators by the direct vote of the people. Eventually the people dosed them selves with those panaceas, and in the case of two of them they found that labels on bottles containing panaceas sometimes do not foretell with entire accuracy what the effects of the stuff in the bottles on the body politic will be Meantime, with the popularization of the physiocratic theory of the single tax on the rent by land of Henry George when he published his book, Progress and Poverty, in 1879, and through the incessant labors of George and his followers, the economic advantages of such a levy came to be considered a panacea for all taxation problems and difficulties, which were, and still are great, by a minor but most active section of the population advocated the abolition of all taxes upon industry and the Briefly, George products of industry, and the taking, by taxation on land values irrespective of improvements, what he termed economic rent derived from the annual renta those various forms of natural opportunity covered by the general term “‘land.” The supporting argumenis rest upon three genera! premises, which are the theory of t ] i values of all vere many, and sti!l are, and natural rights, the economic theory of distribution, and economic expediency. It is held that such single taxation will yield sufficient governmental revenue, make for better and purer government, and increase the productivity of wealth by removing the present taxes on capital, produc tion and consumption. The single-tax theory is directly opposed to socialism and the nationalization of land During the years since George's crystallization of this theory in his book, and following the adoption of the theory by many disciples, there have been amplifications of it and attenuations of it, but in the main the thesis rests upon Continued on Page 132 LL SUI Wnt YOM, Ltd ML Lf Lie

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST July 7,1923 hnester orgets By P.G. WODEHOUSE ae ay ILLUSTRATED His companion laughed, the carefree laugh of the man to whom the gods of golf have granted a happy ending. “That was the rector smashing his putter. He had a two-foot putt to halve the hole and match, and he missed it. Poor old chap, he had rotten luck all the way round, and it didn’t seem to make it any better for him that he wasn’t able to relieve his feel- ings in the ordinary way. Golly, I'm tired,” he said once fomething Hard Smote Him Viotently on the Seat of His Plus+Fours flies loafed languidly in the sunshine, birds panted in the shady recesses of the trees. With the exception of an occasional perspiring bee that buzzed past intent on some mysterious duty, the only creatures exhibiting any activity were the members of a four-ball foursome working its way up the hill from the eighth tee. The Oldest Mem- ber of the club, snug in his favorite chair on the terrace overlooking the ninth green, had long since succumbed to the drowsy influence of the weather. His eyes were closed, his chin sunk upon his breast. The pipe which he had been smoking lay beside him on the turf, and ever and anon there proceeded from him a muffled snore. Two young men, wandering towards the tennis courts, stepped lightly as they passed him. This was partly because they thought the nap would be good for their venerable friend; partly hecause it was his habit, when awake, to buttonhole the nearest person and relate to him one of the innumerable reminiscences of his golfing past. The Oldest Member, though he had not played since the days of the gutty ball, still kept in touch with the game through the medium of speech Suddenly the stillness was broken. There was a sharp, cracking sound as ef splitting wood. It rang out like the report of a rifle, and the Oldest Member sat up, blinking. As soon as his eyes had become accustomed to the glare he perceived that the foursome had holed out on the ninth and was disintegrating. Two of the players were moving with quick, purposeful steps in the direction of the side door which gave entrance to the bar; a third was making for the road that led to the village, bearing himself as one in profound dejection; the fourth came onto the terrace Finished ?"’ said the Oldest Mem- ber, accosting this individual. The other stopped, wiping a heated brow. He lowered himself into the adjoining chair “Yes; we started on the tenth. Golly, I'm tired. No joke playing in this weather.” ‘How did come out?” “We won on the last green. Jimmy Fothergill and I were playing the rector and Rupert Blake.” “What was that sharp, cracking sound I heard?” asked the Oldest Member. 1 SHE summer afternoon was warm and heavy. Butter- you more; and, wriggling himself into a more comfortable position, he closed his eyes. “‘T suspected some such thing,”’ said the Oldest Member, “from the look of his back as he was leaving the green. His walk was the walk of an overwrought soul.” His companion did not reply. He was breathing deeply and regularly. “It is a moot question,” thoughtfully, ‘“‘whether the proceeded the Oldest Member clergy, considering their pecul- iar position, should not be more liberally handicapped at golf than the laymen with whom they compete. I have made a close study of the game since the days of the feather ball, and I am firmly convinced that to refrain entirely from oaths during a round is almost equivalent to giving away three bisques. There are certain occasions when an cath seems to be so imperatively demanded that the strain of keeping it in must inevitably affect the ganglions, or nerve centers, in such a manner as to diminish the steadi- ness of the swing.” The man beside him slipped lower down in his chair. His mouth had opened slightly. “T am reminded in this connection,” said the Oldest Member, “‘of the story of young Chester Meredith, a friend of mine whom you have not, I think, met. He moved from this neighborhood shortly before you came. There was a case where a man's whole happiness was very nearly wrecked purely because he tried to curb his in- stincts and thwart Nature in this very respect. Perhaps you would care to hear the story?” A snore proceeded from the next chair. “Don't Mention it,"’ he Said. Fautts on Both Sides"’ BY TONY SARG “Very well, then,”’ said the Oldest Member, “I will re- late it.” Chester Meredith—said fhe Oldest Member— was one of the nicest young fellows of my acquaintance. We had been friends ever since he had come to live here as a small boy. I had watched him with a fatherly eye through all the more important crises of a young man’s life. It was I who taught him to drive, and when he had all that trouble in his twenty-first year with shanking his short approaches it was to me that he came for sympathy and advice. It was an odd coincidence, therefore, that I should have been present when he fell in leve, I was smoking my evening cigar out here and watching the last couples finishing their rounds, when Chester came out of the clubhouse and sat by me. I could see the boy was perturbed .about something, and wondered why, for I knew he had won his match. “en “What,” I inquired, ‘‘is on your mind?” “Oh, nothing,”’ said Ches- ter. “I was only thinking that there are some human misfits who ought not to be allowed on any decent links.” “You mean s “The Wrecking Crew,” said Chester bitterly. ‘‘They held us up all the way round, blast them! Wouldn’t let us through. What can you do with people who don’t know enough of the etiquette of the game to understand that a twosome has right of way over a four-ball foursome? We had to loaf about for hours on end while they scratched at the turf like a lot of crimson hens. Eventually all four of them lost their balls simultaneously at the eleventh and we managed to get by. I hope they choke!” I was not altogether surprised at his warmth. This Wrecking Crew consisted of four retired business men who had taken up the noble game late in life because their doc- tors had ordered them air and exercise. Every club, I sup- pose, has a cross of this kind to bear, and it was not often that our members rebelled; but there was undoubtedly something particu- larly irritating in the methods of the Wrecking Crew. They tried so hard that it seemed almost inconceivable that they should be so slow. “They are all re- spectable men,” I said, “‘and were, I be- lieve, highly thought of in their respective businesses. But on the links ladmit that they are a trial.”’ “They are the di- rect lineal descend- ants of the Gadarene swine,”’ said Chester firmly. “‘Every time they come out I ex- pect to see them rush down the hill from the first tee and hurl themselves into the lake atthesecond. Of all the infernal # “Hush!” I said. Out of the corner of my eye I had seen “Not at All,

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H } i i. interrupted by anidea. ‘Did you say that her brother’s name was Crispin?” “IT did. Why?” Chester gave vent to a few manly oaths “Doesn't that just show you how things go in this rotten world “What do you mean?” “IT was at schoo with him.” “Surely that shoul form a solid basis fdr friendship!” “Shouldit? Should it, by gad? Well, let me tell you that | probably kicked that blighted werm Crispin Blakeney a matter of seven hundred and forty-six times in the few years I knew him Felicia Stood Staring at Him. In Her Eyes Was the Look of One Who Sees Visions He was the world’s a girl approaching, and I was afraid lest Chester in his annoyance might use strong language. For he was one of those golfers who are apt to express themselves in mo- ments of emotion with a good deal of generous warmth. “Eh?” said Chester. I jerked my head and he looked round. And as he did so there came into his face an expression which I had seen there only once before, on the occasion when he won the President's Cup on the last green by holing a thirty-yard chip with his mashie. It was a look of ecstasy and awe. His mouth was open, his eyebrows raised, and he was breathing heavily through his nose. “Golly!”’ I heard him mutter The girl passed by. I could not blame Chester for star- ing at her. She was a beautiful young thing, with a lissom figure and a perfect face. Her hair was a deep chestnut, her eyes blue, her nose small and laid back with about as much loft as a light iron. She disappeared, and Chester, after nearly dislocating his neck trying to see her round the cor- ner of the clubhouse, ernitted a deen, explosive sigh. “Who is she?”’ he whispered. I could tell him that. In one way and another I get to know most things around this locality. “She is a Miss Blakeney— Felicia Blakeney. She has come to stay for a month with the Waterfields. I under- stand she was at school with Jane Waterfieid. She is twenty-three, has a dog named Joseph, dances well and dislikes parsnips. Her father is a ~ distinguished writer on sociological _ ects; her mother is Wilmot Royce, the well-known “a novelist, whose last A, work, Sewers of the Soul, was, you may re- call, jerked before a tribunal by the Purity League. She has a brother, Crispin Blakeney, an emi- nent young reviewer and essayist, who is now in India studying local conditions with a view to a series of ~ lectures. She only arrived here yesterday, so this is all I have been able to find out about heras yet.”’ Chester’s mouth was still open when I began speaking. By the time I had finished it was open still wider. The ecstatic look in his eyes had changed to one of dull despair. “If her family is like that,’’ he muttered, ‘‘what chance is there for a roughneck like me?” “You admire her?” “She is the alligator’s Adam's apple,”’ said Chester. I patted his shoulder. ‘Have courage, my boy,’ I said. ‘Always remember that the love of a good man to whom the pro can only give a couple of strokes on eighteen holes is not to be despised.” “Yes, that’s all very well. But this girl is probably one solid mass of brain. She will look on me as an uneducated wart hog.” “Well, I will introduce you, and we will see. She looked a nice girl.” “You're a great describer, aren’t you!”’ said Chester. “‘A wonderful flow of language you've got, I don’t think! Nice girl! Why, she’s the only girl in the world! She’s a pearl among women. She’s the most marvelous, astound- ing, beautiful, heavenly thing that ever drew perfumed breath.” He paused, as if his train of thought had beep worst. Hecould have walked straight into the Wrecking Crew and no questions asked. Wouldn't it jar you? I have the luck to know her brother, and we couldn’t stand the sight of each other.” “Well, there is no need to tell her that.” “Do you mean He gazed at me wildly. ‘‘Doyou mean I might pretend we were pals?” “Why not? Seeing that he is in India, he can hardly contradict you.” ““My gosh!’’ He mused for a mome..:. I could see that the idea was beginning tosinkin. It was always thus with Chester. You had to give him time. “By Jove, it mightn’t bea bad scheme at that! I mean, it would start me off with a rush, like being one up on bogey on the first two. And there’s nothing like a good start. By gad, I'll do it!”’ “T should.” “Reminiscences of the dear old days when we were lads together and all that sort of thing.” “Preciseiy !”’ “Tt isn’t going to be easy, mind you,"’ said Chester medi- tatively. ‘I'll do it because I love her, but nothing else in this world wou!d make me say a civil word about the blis ter. Well, then, that’s settled. Get on with the introduc- tion stuff, will you? I’m ina hurry.” One of the privileges of age is that it enables a man to thrust his society on a beautiful girl without causing her to draw herself up and say, “Sir!”’ It was not difficuit for me to make the acquaintance of Miss Blakeney; and, this done, my first act was to unleash Chester on her “‘Chester,”’ I said, summoning him as he loafed with an overdone carelessness on the horizon, one leg almost in- extricably entwined about the other, “‘I want you to meet Miss Blakeney. Miss Blakeney, this is my young friend, Chester Meredith. He was at school with your brother Crispin. You were great friends, were you not?” “Bosom,” said Chester after a pause. “Oh, really?” said the girl. There was a pause. “He is in India now.” “Yes,’’ said Chester. There was another pause. “Great chap,” said Chester gruffly. The World Became Full of Shouts of “‘Fore"’ THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 1 “Crispin is very popular,” said she, ‘“‘with some people.” “Always been my best pal," said Chester. “Yes?” I was not altogether satisfied with the way matters were developing. The girl seemed cold and unfriendiy, and | was afraid that this was due to Chester's repellent manner Shyness, especially when complicated by love at first sight, is apt to have strange effects on a man, and the way it had taken Chester was to make him abnormally stiff and digni- fied. One of the most charming things about him was his delightful, boyish smile. Shyness had caused him to iron this out of his countenance till no trace of it remained. Not only did he not smile; he looked like a man who never had smiled and never would. His mouth was a thin, rigid line His back was stiff with what appeared to be contemptuous aversion. He looked down his nose at Miss Blakeney as if she were less than the dust beneath his chariot wheels I thought the best thing to do was to leave them alone together to get acquainted. Perhaps, I thought, it was my presence that was cramping Chester's style. I excused my- self and receded, It was some days before I saw Chester again. He came round to my cottage one night after dinner, and sank inte a chair, where he remained silent for several minutes. “Well?” I said at last “Eh?” said Chester, starting violently “Have you been seeing anything of Miss Blakeney lately?" “You bet I have!" “And how de you feel about her on further acquaint ance?” “Eh?” said Chester absently. “Do you still love her?” Chester came out of his trance “Love her?" he cried, his voice vibrating with emotion “Of course I love her! Who wouldn't love her? I'd bea silly chump not loving her. Do you know,” the boy went on, a look in his eyes like that of some young knight seeing the Holy Grail in a vision—‘‘do you know, she is the only woman I ever met who didn’t overswing? Just a nice, crisp, snappy half slosh, with a good full follow through And another thing. You'll hardly believe me, but she waggles almost as little as George Duncan. You knew how women waggle as a rule, fiddling about for a minute and a half like kittens playing with a ball of wool. Well, she just makes one firm pass with the club and then— bing! There is none like her—-none.” “Then you have been playing golf with her?” “Nearly every day.” “How is your game?”’ - “Rather spotty. I seem to be mistiming them I was concerned. “I do hope, my dear boy,” I said earnestly, “that you are taking care to control your feelings when out on the links with Miss Blakeney. You know what you are like I trust you have not been using the sort of language you generally employ on occasions when you are not timing them right.” **Me?” said Chester, horrified. “‘Who, me? You don’t imagine for a moment that | would dream of saying a thing that would bring a blush to her dear cheek, do you? Why, a bishop could have gone round with me and learned noth- ing new!” I was relieved “How do you find you manage the dialogue these days‘ I asked. ‘When I introduced you, you behaved-— you will forgive an old friend for criticizing —you behaved a little like a stuffed frog with laryngitis. Have things got easier in that respect?” Continued on Page 80

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST July 7, 1923 7 Ty f / LE What's Thirty-five Minutes Out of a Heatthy Lifetime? By Holworthy Halll NANCY FAY T THE sudden news that he was to sail for Paris A by the first available steamer, Martin McKay didn't even exercise an eyelash. To Martin, who was a salesman of power installations, business was Business; but more than that, he believed that a good business man should be imperturbable, and present a marble front to all the vicissitudes of life. So that although, actually, he was landlord to a strong reaction of astonish- ment and pleasure, he exerted his resistless will to the utmost and didn’t change countenance. He merely pro- longed the broad grin which he had already been wearing. “Then there's a hen on in Pafis, is there?”’ he asked temperately. The general manager leaned back and X-rayed him. He saw a remarkably handsome young man of twenty-four, built like an oarsman, with a very sturdy chin, but with eyes and mouth which suggested those of a boy. Most women, as well as most purchasing agents indeed, the general manager himself--found Martin irresistible; none of them quite seemed to realize— perhaps because Martin was too polite to tell them--that he was thoroughly hard- boiled, and that regardless of his indestructible smile and his engaging manner, there was no use in trying to put anything over on him. “No,” said the general manager presently. “It isn't a hen; it’s a goose, and a wild one at that. You aren’t going over to sell; you're going over to buy. To buy five hun- dred shares of Grenoble Light and Power.” Again Martin was astonished; but he continued to register the implacable poise of an aquarium-trained salmon. He observed, ‘ Well, thet’s all right with me, Mr. Howland, as long’s I don’t have to do it out of my own salary"; and persevered in his characteristic grin. Mr. Howland’s attitude was paternal. ‘“ Martin, we've got a franchise for a new plant at Vaucluse, Ohio— ninety- nine-year monopoly. But ten miles across the river, at Grenoble, there's this outfit that could be expanded very cheaply to twice the capacity they'll ever need. So we've been trying to buy up Grenoble L. and P. ourselves, set up a unit at Vaucluse, hook onto Grenoble, and save half the cost of construction and installation. We could cut the price of a kilowatt hour 15 per cent and still make a killing. ge 7 a fs 7 /, ’ 4 ILLUSTRATED BY But we've struck a snag. The Grenoble common-stock issue was three thousand shares, all locally held. We picked up about twelve hundred quietly. Then the Gre- noble Chamber of Commerce got panicky and ran a kind of civic-loyalty campaign home control of home indus- tries and they jockeyed thirteen hundred shares, more or less, into a nonselling agreement, to keep us out. That leaves about five hundred; and one man owns the whole block, and he won't sell. Sell! He won't even talk, he won't even listen! We've had seven different men down there, and this chap Adams threw ‘em out as fast as they came. He paid seventy-five for his stock; we've offered one hundred and fifty — and that’s our limit-— but nothing doing. He won't pool, but he won’t sell. And now he’s gone abroad, and we've got to start scratching ground at Vaucluse and putting in the factory orders. So I’m going to borrow you temporarily. You go over and bring back the certificate, or a bill of sale, or a proxy inside of six weeks and you get a raise of a thousand.” Martin’s heart was leaping, but he prided himself that he maintained his granite exterior. “‘That’s just what I need, Mr. Howland. That'll get me a summer suit and seven hundred jars of complexion clay.” The general manager, having made his choice between discipline and apoplexy, laughed without restraint. “What your method of approach will be,” he said, sobering, “I don’t know. Everything's been tried. The Securities Department says it’s a waste of time to follow it up. But I'm going to imitate Steve Brodie, Martin, and take a chance--on you. How do you feel about it?” Secretly Martin was bloated with compliment. He as- sumed that at last Mr. Howland had learned how to ap- praise him. Mr. Howland had waked up to the fact that one cold fish can usually speak the language of another But Martin’s mask was impenetrable. He said: ‘Feel? Why, I don’t know. I guess I feel like slipping one across on the Securities Department!" ———— ———— 4 Especiatly When the Girt Consents to Ride Through the Bois, and Stop for an Ice at D'Armenonvitlle It was well for his vanity, however, that he couldn't overhear what Mr. Howland said to the sales director ten minutes later. “Oh, yes,”’ said Mr. Howland, “he’s a good enough technical man, but that isn’t why I’m borrowing him from you. I’m doing it because he’s so darned ingenuous he’s likely to make a bigger hit with an old grouch than a better salesman would. Or than seven of ’em have. Be- sides, he’s worked so mighty hard lately, I’m really figur- ing it as a kind of extra vacation for him. The odds are just about forty-six to nothing. But we baited with every- thing else, and Adams wouldn't bite. All right; let’s bait with McKay!” Three hours after his advent in Paris, Martin wondered how any native Frenchman dared venture into the pres- ence of a squirrel. From the Gare St.-Lazare his taxicab, honking madly, had torn through dense traffic as though Martin and the chauffeur were pay-roll bandits returning home from profitable toil. Subsequently his hotel had sent him up a small pot of aromatic lye, with two lumps of un- sweetened sugar and an armored roll, disguised as break- fast. When he advised the office that the chambermaid hadn't left any bath soap they told him that it was a sup- plement; and when he finally. got it, it smelled nobly of verbena, and didn’t know how to s*im. There was no cigar stand in the lobby, and at the near-by bureau de tabac Martin discovered that if he wanted matches he had to pay for them, and that they would do almost anything but light. He then proceeded down a wide avenue which changed its name three times in six blocks, so that he thought he was lost, and had to be as- sured that he wasn’t. And when, upon reaching the bank which was the only known address of Mr. Alexander Adams, he found it closed for Ascension Day, he surveyed the horizon and demanded audibly, ‘Can you beat it? You can't even tie it!" It was spring in Paris, with romance lurking in every recess of the gardens, and illusion blooming in every angle of the boulevards; but as he retraced his steps Martin was chiefly aware of lady street cleaners, American bars, and natives who all appeared to have taken the wrong hat by REE ik aed =

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mistake. He also perceived that Paris has extraordinary facilities for playing beaver. Incidentally he was accosted by four guides and three English-speaking panhandlers. Martin didn’t object to being recognized as an American, but constitutionally he hated to be picked out as an easy mark; wherefore some of his comments to these gentry especially when they showed an inclination to accompany him for a few hundred yards—would have greatly sad- THE SATURDAY EVENING POST from the seaboard and exclaimed, “ Zowie! Par-don, mon- sieur!”’ Gentlemen from the seaboard responded, ‘ Holy smoke! I thought you were a frog! Let’s have something.” Toy balloons had been distributed, and were batted from table to table with high laughter. Watchmen’s rattles were also provided, in case anyone desired to assist the band which nearly everyone did. Confetti and feather ticklers were about to be served, as dessert; and from all sides “IT beg your pardon, but you're an American, aren't you?” Her voice suited her admirably, but her question didn't suit Martin. He had heard it too many times today on the boulevards “Why, no,” he Senegalese.”’ She laughed said pleasantly but firmly. 13 “I'm a “Then you're the first blond one I ever \ dened his mother. echoed the same joyous slogan: ‘So this is Paris!" heard of But really—this is awfully embarrassing, The holiday irked him, for he had no acquaintances in In the background the proprietor counted the house but ‘ Paris, and having come on business he had brought no in- and in the foreground Martin McKay, partly blinded, “Oh, don’t bother to be embarrassed,” said Martin } troductions. Eventually he decided that after lunch he partly deafened and a third asphyxiated, sat warily in- benevolently. “What's wrong?”’ would ride out in the Bois and see how far it fell behind its reputation. But while he was having lunch it began to rain. specting a girl. As a hardened skeptic he had known in advance, of course, that “gay Paree’’ was nothing but the blurb of She studied him for a moment. ‘“ Why, there were four of us—at the Cirque de Paris. We lost each other in the crowd afterwards. They'd said they were coming here, s ) it “My Lord!” said Martin as he gazed at the deluge. press agents and the delusion of the inexperienced. He I came—but that was an hour ago. Ar and people keep } “Now I know why they don’t ever drink water in France. wasn’t deceived for an instant: the Place Pig-Alley was a annoying me ali the time—and the head waiter says | i ‘1 1ey don’t need to. They absorb it through their pores!”” come-on joint—of the Americans, by the Americans and can’t have a table any longer if I don’t buy champagne His French wouldn’t permit him to derive much nourish- for the Americans. All that had worried him was that and all the money I had with me was twenty francs i ment from a theater, and he wasn't fond of the movies; so somebody might think he thought it was the real thing; so so Se: : that he spent the afternoon in the writing room, compos- that to obviate any such misfortune he had put on what he Martin's smile was bland. “So you either want me to He dined, aloof and melancholy. He smoked, he delib- flimflammed. And then this girl had occupied the adjoin- The color in her cheeks was rising. “But you see—i : ’ erated, he yawned. He wasn't sleepy, he wasinexpressibly ing table, and for thirty minutes her symptoms had been don't know where I live!” . & bored. At length he rose with dignity, strolled into the unmistakable. Sooner or later she was going to open a “Oh, whoa!” said Martin i office, and put down his watch, his cigarette case, his letter conversation. She was adorable, but he was a cold fish, and this was : of credit and the bulk of his ready money. But Martin never allowed his judgment to interfere Paris. And he knew that gangs of high-class crooks always i “Lock those in the safe for me,” said Martin imper- with his eyesight, so that while he contemplated her he employ beautiful sirens to lure in the victims turbably, ‘“‘and then tell me where I can see some of permitted himself to be cheered by her attractiveness. She “Truly! I—lI only landed this afternoon. From Lon H this—gay Paree they talk so much about.” was small but beautifully made; dainty but not delicate lon. They all met me at the station. I'm at a friend's , | And if his intonation hadn’t been warmed by his grin Her hair was jet black, her eyes were black, her skin so apartment. But we were in such a hurry I never even j } anybody whose veins held enough French blood to fillan fair that it passed even the grilling test of that fierce illu- noticed the name of the street. I ” : ink bottle would have been fully justified in slaying him mination overhead. A soft color came and went in her “Let's look it up in the directory—or the telephone ' where he stood. cheeks as regularly as she breathed. Her frock was of the book,” suggested Martin helpfully { tint of apricots, and cut in the fashion of the '40’s; her The girl shook her head. ‘ But she only moved in last Halfway up the Mount of Martyrs there is an open sole ornament was a necklace of pearls which, if genuine, week! And she hasn't a telephone yet. It's somewher i square which in tourist French is often called the Place would have been worth important money. near the Etoile. I think I'd know the house if 1 saw it. But Pig-Alley. At one corner of this square is a popular cab- Moreover, she had behaved like a nice girl. She had _ to hunt for it all alone at this time of night - j aret consisting of gilt, red plush, a jazz orchestra,a dancing drunk only a harmless sirup; and she had rejected, Martin saw the point. Obviously he was supposed to ' floor the size of a bed sheet, champagne, a cover charge, graciously, four separate men who had asked her to dance. aid beauty in distress; beauty would -eccgnize the house \ two hundred patrons, and a cubic yard of air per person. She hadn’t even volleyed a balloon or experimented with when she saw it; her friends would insist on thanking SC a SOMES a ing inscriptions for picture postcards, and dipping into the literature of Swiss summer resorts. It was past midnight, and revelry was just getting into gear. The lights were blazing, the floor was packed as in a subway jam, corks popped incessantly, and the orchestra was outsyncopating Syncope himself. Women from New York staring at women from Denver whispered to their husbands, “Look! Did you ever see anything so daring? That’s French.” Gentlemen from the Mid-West, attempt- ing to dance in a dime’s area, trod on the toes of gentlemen fancied to be a chill and derisive smile—but he hadn’t gone home. It amused him to watch so many other people being the mechanics of a rattle. But what would a nice gir! be doing alone in a noisy cabaret on the Place Pigalle at one o’clock in the morning? Martin hadn’t been more than ten years old before he knew that the teacher, in correct- ing papers, used a key to the arithmetic; he was a hard man to fool. And now, as he had anticipated, she was speaking to him. buy the champagne, so you can keep on waiting, or else pay your fare home? Is that it? him—and the dénouement might be anything from Mex ican poker to the badger game. He smiled again as he imagined how quickly she would drop him if she knew how much wisdom he had —and how little cash “It seems to me,” “that if I were alone in great and wicked city I'd go to a hotel, and look up mj friends in the morning.” Continued on Page 70 he said, a“ But He Was a Cold Fish, and This Was Paris She Was Adorable,

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST July 7,1923 IONE Y—By Thomas McMorrow byle, ‘‘is ten million dollars. Take it! And now, Alice, will you be my wife?” The great azure eyes of Mrs. Hancey—a slim and ador- able blonde of some twenty summers— were very sweet as she took the ten million dollars; but, severtheless, she seized a great alarm bell and began to ring it vigorously. In anguished fear, Mr. Kerfbyle grasped the bell. But it was stil! ringing when he awoke, choking his ninety-eight- cent alarm clock He groaned, said “Oh, dear!"’ and threw his legs out of bed. His high-arched feet hit the cold floor and promptly marched away to the open window of the furnished room, taking with them the sleepy and rebellious Mr. Ducey Kerfbyle in his pink pajamas. When he arrived at the window, which overlooked a commercial garage, his arms high in air and then swept stifly down toward his toes and then rose up to repeat again and again this ab- ject He was fully awakened. Highly ener- gized by his deep inhalations of the gasoline fumes from the garage, he set about getting his breakfast. He hauied a heavy trunk from under his iron-bound bed and unlocked it. In the trunk were three dozen mortar-spattered North River bricks, a small saucepan, a pasteboard box of patent breakfast food, a can of evaporated milk and a packet of a patent preparation of powdered coffee. He filled the saucepan with water, dropped in a spoonful of the powder and warmed the mixture over the gas jet; he pulled the tooth- picks from the orifices in the milk can and shook in some milk. Having this healthful and nutritious drink prepared, he went to the trunk again in search of solids. He moved the bricks about, picking them up and poising themspeculatively; but in the end he decided to eat the patent breakfast food. Chere was really nothing else in the trunk with any reputa- tion for edibility. He ate the breakfast food and drank the prepared coffee. He washed the saucepan and restored the several articles to the trunk, which he locked and pushed under the bed. He went to the door and lis- tened for noises in the bath- room. He popped from his doorway and popped into the bathroom, -He returned with shining morning face and shed the pajamas. He now appeared as a tall and lean and sinewy gentleman in the prime of life, about forty-eight. He was evidently a man who took a proper pride in his physical condition. His abdomen did not protrude, his stomach did not sag from high living, he had the waist of anathlete. His shoulder muscles were flattening, his joints were asserting themselves, his neck was rather thin; but his legs were admirable. There was driving power in the swelling thighs, grace in the articulations of knees and ankles, a tremendous power for uplift in the bulging calves. Mr. Ducey Kerfbyle was distinctly a man of his legs. Such legs might have stridden beside Weston on his hundred-mile jaunts; such springy underpinning might have hurled Mr. Ducey Kerfbyle high in air at Olympic competitions, or borne him amid rapturous applause through acrobatic Russian dances. Viewed now for the fleeting instant before their rather commonplace super- structure disappeared for the day under Mr. Kerfbyle’s shirt, they were impressive and significant props. He completed his appareling. He lifted the mattress, threw aside a newspaper and raised into view a pair of gray-striped trousers pressed to the minute. He unfolded a handkerchief which had lain on the pine chiffonier and took thence two shining cuffs and a standing collar. They had passed the night safely shielded from the invading smut of the garage. From behind a calico curtain he took a frock coat. With the satisfaction of a craftsman he examined the shoes which he had put on the window ledge to dry. The heels were of new rubber, and not only the heels but the erstwhile broken soles. He had renewed them with a section of an inner tube obtained from the garage. He put on all this fine raiment, and then added a new and immaculate shirt front. He peered approvingly at his dark [i THIS purse, Mrs. Hancey,” said Mr. Ducey Kerf- rome obeisance ILLUSTRATED BY WILLIAM KEMP STARRETT “If You Wish to Remain With Us, Mr. Kerfbyte, You Will Pay Back This Seventy+Five Dotiars You Borrowed" and handsome face as reflected by the waved glass of the mirror on the chiffonier, and stroked with silver-backed brushes his black-and-gray hair. He draped a gold watch chain across his waistcoat, clipping it to the pockets in default of a watch and balancing appendage. He assumed his freshly cleaned panama hat, took stick and gloves and sauntered from the chamber. His retreaded shoes fell noiselessly on the stair, but the stair complained loudly. Mrs. Rombout opened her door. “Mr. Cobble!” He held on his way, unhearing; indeed, he even quick- ened his pace. “Mr. Cobble!" “Oh, good morning, Mrs. Rombout,” he said with a musical and ingratiating intonation. “‘ Did you call me?” “Yes. Can I have the rent today?” “Why, certainly, Mrs. Rombout! Certainly! Four dollars, isn’t it? Hello, I do believe--I do really believe I do believe I haven’t the money with me. This is annoy- ing. Shall we say Saturday, Mrs. Rombout?” “At the very latest, Mr. Cobble.” “Oh, decidedly!’’ he exclaimed, flashing at her a bril- liant smile. “‘Good morning, Mrs. Rombout; good morn- ing. Lovely weather, isn’t it?” “Yes,” she sniffed. “‘It must be lovely in the park, and a very good thing for them that has no homes. Let’s hope it keeps up, Mr. Cobble. Saturday, then; and don’t forget to remember.” When he had vanished in the hall below she came out of her room and climbed the stair, wheezing and holding a hand to her back. She was an excellent woman, hard- working, honest and God-fearing; she deserved to live on the best, and to sit in her own car and take a load off her feet; but New York denied her a soft living for the absurd reason that she was fat and old and rather stupid. She wad- dled into Mr. Kerfbyle’s room, sighted the silver-backed hair- brushes and got down on her knees with a groan to look at the trunk. She pulled atit; its weight reassured her. “Saturday, then,” tered, rising. Mr. Kerfbyle walked down Fifth Avenue to One Hundred and Twenty-fifth Street; Mrs Rombout’s stack of light and sunny rooms was just ofi Fifth Avenue in Harlem. Several! gentlemen of means and leisure were strolling on Fifth Avenue on this beautiful June morn- ing. A retired pawnbroker was taking the air, an old man with wise and secretive eyes. A bar- tender, one of the nouveau riche of New York, lounged in a new English lounge suit and smoked a bad cigar with inexplicable enjoyment. A bootlegger, holding in leash a seven- hundred-dollar Great Dane, leaned on the door of a five- thousand-dollar car and dis- cussed with the occupant, another bootlegger, ways and means of keeping the small fry out and preventing free traders from infringing on a certain lucrative monopoly. Mr. Ducey Kerfbyle, strolling by, seemed as elegantly detached from rude toil as any of these gentlemen of fortune. He turned west on One Hun- dred and Twenty-fifth Street and strolled into the main en- trance to Kidd’s Big Store. He smiled brightly and nodded to two clerks who were arranging the bargain counter. “Tt’s a wonder he don’t come in at the Hundred-and-Twenty- fourth-Street door like every- body else,’ grumbled a clerk. “Who?” “That floorwalker.”’ “You mean old Cobble? Oh, he’s all right. He’s a real good fellow when you get to know him right.” “T ain’t saying about that. I’m only saying he’d ought to come in at the employes’ entrance with everybody else, and not breeze in the front looking like a million dollars.” “Give him credit. If he can look like a million dollars on twenty-six berries a week, give him credit!” she mut- au “(\NE huudred and fifty a month, Mr. Kidd,” said Mrs. Alice Hancey, mildly but determinedly, “is no money.” “Oh, come,” protested her employer, raising a chubby hand and pouting his thick lips. ‘I think it’s very nice money. I think it’s beautiful money.”’ He threw himself back in his chair and interlaced his pink fingers protect- ingly over his big stomach. “I want to be fair, Mrs Hancey,” he said; “fair to you and fair to me; fair to everybody. And you want to be fair, too, don’t you? I'll tell you what I'll do—i'll leave it to you; whatever you say. That's fair enough, isn’t it?” “T think a buyer in a store like this,” said Mrs. Hancey promptly, “ought to get at least four hundred a month.”’ “Now,” cried Mr. Kidd triumphantly, “you show you’re not fair! I was just fishing you out, to see if you would be fair, and you’re not fair! I might consider two, if " “Two won't do, Mr. Kidd,” said Mrs. Hancey. He compressed his lips, shrugged his shoulders and stared at the glass-paneled door of his private room on the mezzanine floor of the Big Store. He knew the value of his buyer, but so did she. She waited calmly, watching him with pleasant blue eyes. To Mr. Kidd, in this conjuncture, she was discon- certingly balanced and rational. Her thirty-eight years had left her enough illusions to live along on; but few of

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} ———— f ; i i : | if ; : them concerned men in general, or Mr. Kidd, or the affairs of the Big Store. She had been a grass widow and was now a divorcée, having deliberately and inexcusably wearied of supporting a husband, and having refused to live longer in the good home which she had provided for him. He had divorced her for desertion and remarried. She bore him no active ill will. His only fault had been laziness. She hoped, tor his own good, that he had fallen into the arms of some lion-hearted virago who would build a fire under him. Her eyes still held their twinkle. “It’s the one thing you can’t cure a man of,”’ she would say. “If he drank, if he gambled, if he ran after women but no. He was just lazy.” She had grown stout in a comely way; she had the frame to carry flesh. She was handsome, with a lasting beauty of coloring and contours inherited from sound Middle-Western stock. She had a boy in boarding school, wherefore she had retained her husband’s name. She heaved a light and untroubled sigh and glanced at Mr. Kidd’s desk clock, which showed ten minutes after six. A shadow fell on the ground-glass panel of the door. Mr. Ducey Kerfbyle opened the door and stood bowing and smiling on the threshold. “Do I intrude?” he asked in his lilting voice. “Come in, Mr. Kerfbyle,”’ called Mr. Kidd, glad of the diversion. He pronounced the name correctly —Carbil. “Mr. Kerfbyle,” said Mr. Kidd with a grimness of accent which was directed obliquely at Mrs. Hancey, *‘what is the meaning of this?” Mr. Kerfbyle took the tendered document, studied it, reddened, but smiled even more brightly. “T fear I don’t understand it, sir.” “Then I'll explain it to you,” said Mr. Kidd dryly. “This isa garnishee. It is an order of court, directed to me as your employer, and instructing me under penalties to pay over to a firm of lawyers 10 per cent of your weekly salary. You have been borrowing money, Mr. Kerfbyle, and you have not paid it back.” “Ah, yes,” said Mr. Kerfbyle, turning away from Mrs. Hancey. “I dare say that is about it.” ‘“We do not like to see our employes borrowing money, Mr. Kerfbyle,” said Mr. Kidd forcibly. “‘We pay generous salaries here, very fair and generous, and quite as much or more than any of our employes could earn elsewhere. ‘I ay any of our employes, Mr. Kerfbyle, and that includes THE SATURDAY EVENING POST you. But if our empleyes will insist on borrowing on their salaries, we do not propose to be annoyed by legal pro- ceedings instituted against us. I want you to understand, Mr. Kerfbyle, that we are not going to pay any part of our employes’ salaries to anybody but themselves.” “That is handsome of you, sir,”’ said Mr. Kerfbyle, who was now quite flushed. “We will avoid doing so, Mr. Kerfbyle, by discharging any employe whose improvidence or extravagance causes us to be annoyed with these garnishees. If you wish to remain with us, Mr. Kerfbyle, you will pay back this seventy-five dollars you borrowed; and please don’t get into such a pickle again.” “Exactly, sir,” said Mr. Kerfbyle, bowing gravely. “I am extremely sorry that you have been embarrassed.” “That will be all, Mr. Kerfbyle.”’ “Think it over, Mr. Kidd,” said Mrs. Hancey, rising and following Mr. Kerfbyle. “Say, Deuce,” she called after him. ‘‘Oh, I say, Deuce!’ “Pardon, Mrs. Hancey?”’ “Come in here. Where you running to? Come in here.” He followed her into her boxy little office, stood at atten- tion until she was seated, and then seated himself. There was an understanding of a sort between these two—an understanding that was less than a secret treaty but more obligatory than the ordinary public covenant sanctioned against the will to break. It had been initiated a year before, when she had discovered Mr. Kerfbyle blundering politely and purblindly about the store, and when she had given an hour of her time to explaining to him the theory and practice of floorwalking, thus setting up for him some few landmarks and monuments in the unexplored world of business. “Kidd’s Big Store is not a pink tea,’’ she had said. “You're not supposed to hold the doors for the little cash girls, Mr. Kerfbyle.” “Ah, yes, precisely—ha, ha!*’ said Mr. Kerfbyle, nod- ding knowingly. “‘Pardon me!” And he had sprung up to hold the door for a little cash girl of his acquaintance. The lady clerks all liked him immensely, after having virtuously snubbed him for his supposed designs upon them. A few of the older employes had taken to calling him by his given name, whence eventually Deuce. “What's all the shooting about, Deuce?” she asked. ‘“‘A matter of law, Mrs. Hancey. Just that!” ‘Il imagined as much,”’ she said; “but it’s nice of you to come right out and tell me all the revolting details What’s the matter? But I can guess. You've been trifling with some lady's affections, and now you're paying her hush money. Isn't that it?” “Oh, not at all, Mrs. Hancey. You are mistaken, quite ’ with the settlement of the It is a matter in connecti Kerfbyle claim.” She had heard of this claim. It was gene rally understood in the store that Ducey Kerfbyle would be a very rich man when he got the money “It seems to cost you a lot of money to be rich, Deuce,” she said gravely. ‘“‘You never told me about this claim Go on now and spill the story. I love to listen to stories about money.” “T had hoped to tell it 4o you, Mrs. Hancey,” with a sudden wistfulness, ‘under happier circumstances My new attorney had led me to entertain the highest hopes, and I confess that I had looked forward toto telling you, Mrs. Hancey.”’ “Oh, sure!”’ She laughed merrily, but her blue eyes had dwelt on him kindly for a moment in pursuance of the un- worded understanding “You are one of these strong, silent men, Deuce; the kind that hates to give out advance information. What was the seventy-five dollars for?”’ She read the letter which he handed her he s aid Mr. Ducky KERFBYLE, West 128th St., New York City. Feb. 2, 1922 Dear Sir: I am at a loss to understand why you persist in neglecting my communications in re ference to ur Ca Tou will recall that you agreed to meet all costs and disbursements in connection with the prosecution of your suit. I beg to inform you now that if I am not in receipt immediately of your check for $75 I shall be compelled to discontinu In that event I shall look to you for full payment for my rvices in your be half. It will be too bad if the matter ends so, as I had every ‘ reasonable hope of suerceding in the action; but you cannot fairly expect me to stand the loss Very truly yours ABRAHAM I. FLAMM She looked up and nodded ‘The documents in the case,’ said Mr. Kerfbyle, frowning ponderingly, ‘‘are in the pessession of Mr Flamm; but I can give you the gist of the matter, as it were. (Continued on Page 36 “Certainty, Alice,”” He Assured Her. “I Have the Check Here. But Wait! What is it? What"

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THE SATURDAY N MARCH of the present year an &aSs0 ciation of British By J. R. SPRAGUE EVENING POST July 7, 1928 American said, “Why don’t you let me send you a few dozen pairs? manufacturers was having its annual eonvention In &@ London hotel and the main subject of dis the cussion was state of over trade. No gathering of this sort is without the SCAB complete mem her who views with ilarm, and in th! case he was a stout choleric-faced gen- from a factory tleman Midlands town who ad- the vention in gloomy fashion “T want to tell gentlemen sitting here," he dressed con- most you boomed,‘ that this island is in a deplorable plight. Old England d pends on her manufacturers and her exporters for her very existence, but what do we find? Bunglers, gentlemen! Bur glers! The mar kets of the world open, but we don’t know how to take advantage of our opportunities. Everywhere we are outclassed. Look at what America is doing! I warn you gentlemen that if Britain is to endure we must learn exporting from the Yankee!” An hour later the choleric-faced manufacturer had apparently forgotten England's peril and was sitting in the hotel dining room stolidly eating a heavy Old Mnglish lunch. He had told his countrymen they were not so smart as other races, warned them of what might happen if they did not become smarter, and there his responsibility ended. All of which is very human and very like the trend of talk frequently heard on this side of the Atlantic. Over here we also have those who view with alarm our ventures into the mysteries of export business, and we are told that we must become a good deal smarter than we are now if we expect to compete with such profes- sional operators as the English and other European nations. There are hundreds of manufacturers in the i'nited States who would like to find outlets for their products overseas, but are discouraged by the stories they hear about the superhuman &kill of other na- tionals and the failure of foreign campaigns started by some American firms. There are other manufactur- ers who are held back by an exaggerated idea of the knowledge required for successful export operations and by the fear that the initial cost will be too great. are American Shoes in London I URING the past months I have talked with scores of export managers, both in the United You've got a good location here on the Strand, and I believe you could do well with them.” The Englishman was rather pleased at the novel idea of handling Amer- ican and answered that he wouldn’t mind looking at a line of samples. This was kind of a poser to the American manufacturer, on a pleasure trip and naturally car- rying nosamples of his goods, but his native resource- fulness came to the rescue. “T’ll tell what I can hesaid. ‘‘ My wife has got a couple of pairs of shoes in her trunk that represent our best selling numbers. I'll run down to the hotel and get them, and if they look good to you you can give me a little order.” It was thus, as the London merchant related it to me, that the exporting of shoes from America to England was started, the original transaction amounting to less than two hundred dollars, and the sample line consisting of two pairs of ladies’ shoes, partly worn. shoes you do,” Winning Salesmanship HERE was a little more to the story, which, the Londoner says, may have had something to do with the quick popularity of American shoes on the London market. After he had given the order he became terribly worried over what he had done, because he really did not have authority to buy foreign shoes or any other kind without permission from his employers, and the chances were if his spec- ulation turned out badly it would cost him his job. When the American shoes arrived he was so anxious to make good that he made the most energetic efforts to sell them, showing them to every customer he yaited on and praising their good points to the skies. He went so far, he says, as to tell one old lady who admired them, but who doubted their wearing qual- ities, that all American shoes were made for hard use on the plains and deserts of that country, so of course they would wear practically forever in a city like London. Such salesmanship was sure to bring results, and he sold his entire import order in a week. Then he had the courage to tell his employers what he had done, and got their permission to handle American shoes regularly. Probably the introduction of American shoes into States and in Europe, and invariably I have been told that selling goods in other countries requires nothing more superhuman than a sensible program and the same effort that would be expended on marketing the same goods at home. In many cases most successful results have been obtained with surprisingly smali initial expense. In England, as in other European countries, American shoes are in considerable favor, many stores handling them exclusively. A prominent dealer in London told me re- cently that he had the distinction of being the first mer- chant in England to buy a bill of American shoes, and described the circumstances. It was, it seems, about thirty years ago, and the Englishman was holding down his first executive job as manager of a small shoe store on the Strand, one of several establishments owned by an English factory. One day a man came into the place and COPYRIGHT @Y LONDON DAILY MAL London's Fifth Avenue—a View of Kingsway Taken From a Build: ing in Aldwych. Above —A South American Railroad the young Englishman, being asalesman as well as manager, went forward to wait on him. The man said he did not want to buy anything, but was interested in shoe stores be- cause he owned a shoe factory in New York State, U.S. A., and always liked to see how things were done in foreign countries. He was on the last lap of a pleasure trip around the world with his wife, stopping in London for only a few days. The Englishman was interested in his visitor’s con- versation and said he wondered how American shoes com- pared with those made in England, at which the visitor remarked that he believed American shoes had more style, particularly in women’s numbers. Then suddenly the the London market constitutes a record for economy that no one can hope to duplicate, but in many cases the original expense of breaking into a foreign field is hardly more than that entailed in breaking into a new territory at home. Recently I met in Paris a young American representative of a prominent United States factory, engaged in a campaign to try out the French market. The factory makes a product sold through drug stores and grocery shops, and the idea was first to see if the Paris dealers would take kindly enough to the product tw warrant a countrywide effort. Paris may be Paris to some people, but for this young American it was just a place to work in. During the five months he had been there he had gone on foot up one street and down another, calling as he went on every dealer who (Continued on Page 32) a ae

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EFORE going to Japan I took a sol- emn oath to the ef- fect that when I returned home I would not mention having been there—all this due to the fact that I had so many times suffered acutely from that class of bores who go to the Orient and come back so filled up with what they have seen that they buttonhole you and make you listen for hours to their experiences. There seems to be a very viru- lent microbe that gets into the system of most visitors to the Far East and creates a garrulousness that nothing can cure. Kimonos, porcelains, kakemonos and bronzes are brought out and shown to you and explained in detail. No matter if you have a mild preference for the art of the Western world and have courage enough to confess it, you ere invariably made to listen to what this esthetic culture of the Orient represents. It is a part of your ed- ucation which must be forced upon you against your will; you just must know about it; it is only your profound ignorance that keeps you from becoming obsessed by it. Diplomats are usually worse than casual tourists, though they at least have prolonged residence there to excuse their lengthy descriptions. When I admitted that I had actually been to the Orient and brought back nothing with me—this was a slight exaggeration, as I did fill my trunks with silk shirts and pajamas—one of my friends frankly said that he was bitterly disappointed in me. “No screens, no lacquered furniture, no cloisonné, none of their beautiful and fascinating art! What is the matter with you?” I explained that I had found very many exquisitely beautiful things there but did not think they should be used out of their own setting; they were perfect in Oriental surroundings; in our houses they would be en- tirely out of place and useless. “But you can keep them put away and bring them out to show to your friends!” Which was exactly the point I was trying to make. I know very few people who, when they come to see me or dine with me, want to be shown things. We have all suffered enough in our youth in being forced to look at and admire the plush-covered family photograph album. The Forty-Six-Day Voyage gr having taken this reso’-e and got it off my mind I set to work to find out how the journey of ten or twenty thousand miles—I’m sure it was the latter—froin Lisbon to Tokio could be made, and ended by deciding in favor of the Suez route. That appeared much simpler than crossing the Atlantic, the United States, the Pacific, with all the necessary incidental changes. In going by Suez all I had to do was to go to Marseilles, get on a boat and get off at Yokohama—only a matter of forty-six days. Forty-six continuous days on the same boat! I had never thought such a trip possible unless one were bent upon discovering a hidden pole or THE SATURDAY East of Suez—By Norval Richardson the long voyage was that I was the only American on the boat. Ir fact there were only one or two people who spoke English. Almost the entire passenger list was made up of French officers on the way to their Oriental colonies Just before the ship sailed from Marseilles some con- sternation was caused by a lady who found out at the last moment that she was on the wrong boat. As she rushed madly ashore, carrying dozens of parcels and followed by cabin stewards with her trunks, she expressed her terror in a loud, nervous voice: “Japan! Oh, la-la! Tangier is far enough for me—three whole days and nights! But Japan! Forty-six days on the ocean! Mon Dieu! Let me off quick!” Perhaps several other passengers felt the same way. It did seem that we were cutting ourselves off from the world for an interminable time. But as soon as Marseilles and its Ch&teau d’If of Monte Cristo fame had faded into the blue Mediterranean there was an apparent acceptance of the inevitable on everyone's part, very probably accompanied by some sighs at leaving a country so intimately known for one so utterly strange and dis- tant. As night came on evidences of the East began to crop out; an emaci- ated cold gentleman, the color of y bronze, appeared on deck wrapped in a voluminous white sheet; a Chinese lady, in what looked like black oilcloth trousers and loose jacket, and smoking a silver pipe, lounged com- fortably in a deck chair; a Japanese youth in the latest effort of a Parisian tailor tramped up and down with all the jauntiness he had acquired from long residence in France; and the large assembly of French officers threw off their stuffy uniforms and appeared in cool duck. There seemed to be a hectic rush on everyone's part to get settled down to those forty-six days. The first night at din- ner proved that I was hitherto unknown land. In antici- pation it sounded something like taking a long lease on an apartment and settling down for the rest of my life. Yet it wasa most pleasant voyage in many ways. The cabins were large and comfortable and fitted up with hot, and cold water and electric fans—those big wooden fans that hang from the ceiling; the food was excellent; and there was a great deal of deck space—an abso- lute necessity for a voyage that was to hover continu- ally in the neigh- borhood of the equator. One of % EVENING POST AT. once more in for new sub- jects—just as new and unknown as when I was sailing down the west coast of South America. The cor versation now centered about Indo-China All the French officers were going there. What I learned that first evening about Saigon, Hai Fong, Tongking and Annam made me realize that a certain part of my education had been deplerably neglected. I had never even heard of half the places they mentioned; though later, when [ con- sulted the map of the journey, I found them all printed in letters large enough to denote great importance Orange-Haired Africans HE trip was a continuous series of flash-light views of vastly differing civilizations. The first stop was at Port Said, a sordid town which looked as if it had been hastily built and hastily inhabited by men who wore everything from voluminous white bloomers, with evening coats and red fezzes, to ladies who swathed themselves in black robes and decorated their foreheads with dangling gold orna- ments. There was a weird mingling of Fast and West in a setting that was neither one nor the other. The Suez Canal sank into insignificance by comparison with the Panama, but offered one of the most mysterious and beau- tiful sights as the ship glided noiselessly along, surrounded on both sides by vast stretches of eternal desert The next morning the Red Sea, so alarmingly hot that one actually saw red, was all about us. It was undoubt- edly named by a symbolist. Mount Sinai rose on the far horizon like a lifeless mass; hot winds from the deserts parched and blistered the face; and the dis- mal yellowish water made one feel that the end of the world was rapidly being reached—the end which Dante has painted in such sin- ister colors. Jibuti ap- peared at the tip end of French Somaliland, filled with ema- ciated black peo- ple whose features were of classic Greek lines and whose hair had been burned a bright orange color; emaciated camels, emaci- ated plants—a town which the French told me had made tre- mendous progress during the last few years and was becoming the rival of Aden, just opposite. 1 hate te think what Aden must be like Then a straight dash out into the Indian Ocean, which, combined with prostrating heat and a dis- turbing monsoon, kept every pas- senger either in his cabin or stretched out flat on deck the most surpris- ing things about PHOTO. FROM BROWN BROTHERS, NEW YORK CITY The American Legation at Tokio. In the Oval —A Pretty Japanese Girl Feeding the Pigeons of the Honganji Temple Continued or Page 124

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST HE living room at the Hutchinsons’ faced the sea. Ts was a pleasant room, not elegant, but lighted by a smal! red-lacquer table that modified the gloom of the old mahogany and gave the key, as it were, to the color of the chintzes, which had « pattern of pomegran- By Temple Bailey ILLUSTRATED GEORGE E. WOLFE July 7,1925 “Yes,” said Sue, “it will.” She did not tell Miss Ramsey how much good it would do her. No one in the house knew that this was the night of her great adventure—-not even Mary. When Sue was ready to go she looked at herself in ates One felt when Sue Grif- fith came in that she, too, should have been keyed up to the lacquer table by some touch of vivid color. She was a little thing with gray eyes, wistful brows, thick brown hair, and her person- ality was somewhat stu- pidlysubmerged byadinner dress of dark blue, She was thirty-five and looked it She would not have looked it if she had been keyed up to the lacquer table The front doorbell rang. It was Sunday and the maids were out; so Sue an- ewered the bell and let in the night nurse, who was fair and ample, and who wore a rough coat over her white linen. ‘‘What a heavenly moon," said Sue, seeing it for the first time, thin and silver, the nurse’s head Is it? I didn't notice.” Miss Ramsey was peeling off her coat. “‘ How is Mrs. Hutchinson?’ “Very comfortable. Miss Ames thinks the new medi- cine is helping her.” Miss Ames was the day nurse. She met Miss Ram- sey on the stairs and gave her instructions; then she put on her own rough coat and went. away. For four years there had a day nurse and a night nurse in the Hutchin- son household. Before that Sue had taken care of her above the mirror. She had changed her dark dress for a white skirt and white sweater; she wore a little soft white hat pulled down to her eyes, and over her arm she carried a great white coat. No one in the family had ever seen her wear these things. They were new. She looked ten years -younger than in the dark blue. She looked, in- deed, so young that as the mirror gave back her reflec tion her heart jumped as it had jumped when she looked at the moon, and at Minot’s Light, and at the long gray launch. She closed the front door softly and went swiftly along the narrow streets At the foot of one of them was the ferry. Sue found a seat forward and presently they were off. They slipped silentlyamong the anchored yachts. The water was an ebony sheet, picked out with the gold and red and green of the swinging lan- terns. Voices came clearly from roundabout. A pho- nograph, its mechanism modified and given en- chantment by distance, poured forth a lilting song The boat stopped at a yacht-club pier, then went on to the public landing of the Neck. A tall man was waiting. He helped Sue over the side, and together they walked the length of the floating wharf. There was a bluff to climb, a road to cross; then the rocks, sister. Mary had been an invalid for fifteen years. For eleven years Sue had been housekeeper for Mary's husband and had mothered her little girl, Yolanda. Then an uncle of Wallace Hutchin- son had died and had left the business to his nephew. It had been possible to pay maids and nurses, and Yolanda had been sent away to school. They had bought this big house by the sea, and Wallace went back and forth to Boston. Yolanda came home from school every spring and went away in the fall. But this year she would not go away. It was June, and she had been graduated. The fact that Yolanda was at home for good would make a great difference to Sue. It was, in a way, her high moment emancipation She hardly dared let herself think of it. She had supper to get. It was a simple meal, and with Sue the effect of simplicity was gained by a sort of superfastidiousness, She went from the butler’s pantry to the screened porch, where supper would be served. She moved swiftly and surely, and seemed entirely intent on her task. But once she stopped and looked out towards the southeast, where Minot’s Light winked above the horizon. There was always this moment every night when it flashed a greeting to her across the miles. When Yolanda came in with her young friends supper was ready-—-sandwiches, three kinds on a Sheffield tray, coffee in the percolator, piles of plates, piles of napkins, a great uncut cake. There was much hilarity. The Dudley boy devoted himself to Yolanda-—-Stuart Dudley. There were six others. The bright sweaters of the girls were kaleidoscopic bits of color—jade and amber and orchid. Sue, moving among them, was aware of herself as a shadow shape. She knew herself as actually nonexistent in the scheme of their joyous energies. “How's mums?” Yolanda demanded. “Easier, darling.” “That’s good”; and Yolanda cut the cake and fed bits of it to young Dudley and forgot her mother, who was “Tonight I am Saying Good-by to it All. another shadow shape, beloved but spectral against youth’s triumphant background. “Where's dad?” after another hilarious interval. “He went sailing with the Grays. I was glad he could go. He was simply worn out with the hot weather in town this week.” “T’ll say he was,” said Yolanda as young Dudley swung her out into a fantastic teetering dance. In the days of Sue’s youth there had been no dancing on Sunday. She felt that even now it would hurt Mary to know it. But, of course, Mary would not know. things from her. After supper the young folks swept on. They were going to Salem in Stuart Dudley's new motorboat. “Don’t sit up for us,” Yolanda warned. ‘“‘We may go to a movie.” There would be, of course, no chaperon. Yolanda thought chaperons superflucus, mid-Victorian. Sue al- ways smiled a little when her niece called her mid- Victorian. It seemed to put her so definitely far back of where she really belonged. She stood on the veranda and watched the gray launch until it was lost in the shadows. The harbor was a heav- enly place at night, with its lights like stars, the soft sigh- ing and creaking of its sails, its hidden music. When Miss Ramsey came down a little later, to get the invalid’s orange juice and albumen, Sue told her, “I’ve put two plates of sandwiches in the refrigerator; one is for your midnight supper and the other for Mr. Hutchinson when he gets home. I am going out for a while. You won’t mind answering the doorbell, will you—and the tele- phone?” “Not a bit.” The night nurse was cutting the white of an egg across with a silver knife. “It will do you good to go out, Miss Griffith.” They kept such Does it Sound Silly?" and beyond the rocks the open sea. They could see little of it in the dark. But they could hear the waves surging in clamorously on a high tide. The tall man took Sue in his arms and kissed her. She gave him kisses in re turn. He whispered and held her close. At last she drew away from him. “Oh, Kit,” she said, “ “My impatience, you mean.’ The wind sang to them, the waves beat out a triumphant chorus. They found a place where they were sheltered and talked as people do who are starved for each other’s voices. It was late when at last they took the ferry back to town. The lights of the little boat showed Sue, pink cheeked, her hair blown about. “How young you look, my dearest!” “Tam young.” They laughed and his warm hand found hers. There was no one in the ferry but the man who ran the boat, and his back was turned. When Sue reached home she found her brother-in-law and the night nurse in the dining room, eating sandwiches “Hello,” said Wallace, ‘“aren’t you a bit late, old lady?” His tone was affectionate. Sue was to him more like a sister than a sister-in-law. She hung her big coat on the hall rack and came in, slim and white in her new clothes. Wallace stared at her. “What have you got on? You look different.” Miss Ramsey, who was from the South, said, “ Well, I think she looks mighty sweet.” “Yes, she does,” Wallace admitted. ‘‘ White’s becoming to you, Sue. Why don’t you wear it more?” “It’s expensive.” Miss Ramsey agreed. ‘White is hard to keep nice. I know that with my uniforms.”” She rose. “I must run along.” “Don’t,” Wallace urged. ‘‘ My wife is asleep, isn’t she?” “ Yes.” ‘ I adore your patience.”

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 19 The nurse sat down again. Wallace smiled at her, and took another sandwich. “Want one?” he asked Sue. “No, I’m not hungry.” “Where have you been?’ “On the Neck.” “Alone?” “No.” “Was Jean Fleming with you?” “No.” Sue went over to the table and drew a cup of coffee from the percolator. ‘‘Did the doctor come, Miss Ramsey?” Wallace was suddenly aware that Sue didn’t care to be catechized before the nurse. So he picked up the thread of the story he had been telling Miss Ramsey when his sister-in-law came in. He really liked to talk to Miss Ramsey. She was pretty, and she listened with her eyes. Sue Griffith, watching them, was also aware that Miss Ramsey was pretty. She hated herself for the little fears which always came to her when Wallace was attentive to a pretty weman. Of course, there wasn’t anything in the world to fear. Wallie was devoted to Mary. His life had been given to her, and it belonged to her, for where would he have been without her? A little later Miss Ramsey again rose and was not to be further persuaded. “*Mrs. Hutchinson must have her medicine even if I have to wake her. Has the doctor told you how it is helping her?’’ “Yes, she’s stronger than I have seen her for years. Of course, she'll never be well; but we can stand it better if she can be relieved from pain.” Wallace's lips tightened. It was always dreadful for him to see his Mary suffer. After Miss Ramsey had gone Sue asked, ‘‘Are you sleepy?” “me.” “Shall we sit on the porch? Yolanda went to Salem. I don't like to go to bed till she is in.” ‘It is nice to have her home, isn’t it ‘Yes; and to know she is not going away again that I want to talk to you about, Wallace.” or It is She was wrapped again in her big coat and was curled up in one of the basket chairs. The veranda was in darkness They could hear the creak and squeak of the sails, the lip- lapping of the waves, and there was another sound, far off. “Foghorns,” said Wallace. ‘It came up quickly, didn't it?” ““Yes.”’ Then, after a pause, “ Wallace, I want to talk a bit about myself.”’ “Go ahead.” Wallace was smoking. Sue could see the red dot of his cigar, low down, as he lay stretched on the swinging bench “Wallace, I am going to be married.” Dead silence; then the red dot was higher as Wallace sat up. “What do you mean— married?” “Well, just that —married.” “Don’t scare me to death.” “I’m not scaring you. Wallace, I was out on the rocks tonight with Christopher Howland.” His feet came down on the floor. “For heaven’s sake! I thought he was in India.” “He hasn’t been in India. It’s Ceylon. He came back because I asked him to.’ Wallace crossed the porch and pulled the chain of the lamp. He felt he must look at this Sue Griffith who could summon a man like Howland from the end of the world “IT asked him to,” said Sue, who was sitting up in the basket chair, and who was transfigured by excitement and happiness, ‘‘because when he went away he told me that if I would ever marry him he would come.” “Gee whiz,”’ said Wallace, ‘“‘and I never knew he was in love with you!” “You might have known if you had had eyes to see. “Well, I thought he was at first. But when he went away —well’’--awkwardly—‘“‘I thought a “That he didn’t want to marry me? He did, but I couldn’t then. You know that. It was just when Mary was taken ill, and Yolanda was little. Think of it, Wallace, Yolanda was only five, and you didn’t have anyone to keep house for you!” “But, my dear girl” didn’t want you to make a martyr of yourself for us.’ Wallace’s voice was sharp —“‘we “TI haven't been a martyr. But what else could I do? Will you tell me that? It wasn't as if Mary had ever been selfish. But ycu know, Wallie, it was because she for all of us that she broke down. She put me through , “Why, I should have been told Kit went worked college Sue’s voice wavered too ungrateful for words! So I away.” “Did he know you cared? “Of course! But I wouldn't be engaged to him —or any thing. I just said—that he must find somebody else if he could, and he said he couldn't and wouldn't; told me that once a year he would write a letter, asking me; and when the letters stopped I would know he had found somebody else. But the letters never stopped. And now Yolanda is home for good and your affairs are in order I feel I am free to go, that I mustn't let Kit wait any longer.” Wallace, stirred by an excit now—rolling in money Sue’s face was white “Don’t!” she said. “He knows that I would marry if he were only a sailor on one of his ships.’ He looked at her curiously “I didn’t know you were like that.’ “What did you think I was like? A wooder He laughed “Oh, I don't know. ¥ easily.”’ “How else could | wring my hands, could I? and he and he ing thought, said,“ He’s rich him >e Indiar ou always seem to take things so take them? I couldn't Looking after you and Yolanda was my job, and I've done it. But now Kit and I are going to do the things we've dreamed of. He planned it all. It sounds quite heavenly She was lighted by the thought of it. He in frowning silence Then he burst out, “ But good Lord, we'll miss you!’ “Yes, you will; and 1 shall miss you. But it is the time for me to leave, when Mary is so happy in having Yolanda with her; and in a year I shall be coming back.” The fog was coming in. The foghorns moaned and groaned. Even Wallace's voice sounded muffled weep an | ’ wel has surveye d her Continued on Page 60 “Oh,"’ Yolanda Flung Out, ‘That's the Trouble With Your Generation! You Adore Setf-Sacrifice”

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ILLUSTRATED July 7,1923 draw poker were usually sufficient to get the money OLD deck,” “‘ Cooler,” ‘} “Trun ina cold deck,” Sy slipped them a cooler,” “I raised a fixed deck on the boys,’ were me of the expressions to describe of the most common forms of cheating The cold deck naturally was derived from the feel of the cards that were shifted into a game by sleight of hand to replace the warm ind more pliable deck which was in play. Cold cards coming in contact with a gambler’s hand have one varned him many a time that has happened too a certain event which quick for his eye methods was Various were ed by cheaters for replac- ing the deck in play witha fixed one. A large hand was a natura! requisite for the best results in the per- formance of this act. This, combined with a quick eye, teady nerve, the art of judging the right moment, was usually successful in turning the trick. Cold decks were raised from the lap, side coat pocket, hat, back of the neck, shirt bosom, sleeve, and in fact from any portion of the body where they could be successfully concealed. I believe that the lap and armpit were most often used Young men were natu- rally more adapted to this kind of work than old men. However, one of the most successful hold-out and eold-deck artists that I knew was a man past fifty. He was constantly sniffling and wiping his nose with a large red handkerchief. His slow movements and innocent appearance gave no cause for suspicion, He was usually careful to sit so as to cut forsomeone who was known to be on the equare and consequently if successfully placed However, some preferred to hold out the five cards which constituted a hand in draw, claiming that it was easier to switch all the ecards than part of them. The coat sleeve was often used for hold-outs but, as with cold decks, all portions of the body were used at times. One very successful method was a body harness with a spring beneath the armpit. The proper pres- sure of the arm shot a meta! rod down the sleeve, the cards were inserted in the clasp, the spring released and the hold-out flicked fromsight. When the cards were needed in play they were propelled to the cuff edge and exchanged for those cards not n.eded, in the player’s hand. Making the switch was not so com- plicated a process as it might seem, for liberal privileges were allowed a player to scan his cards. If sitting with his back to the wall he could raise both hands toa position opposite his chest and screen the switch with arm and hand Cheap clasp hold-outs were often used by clamping them inside the sleeve or to outside portions of the clothing. Raw Work NE of the most success- ful hold-out men I ever knew never removed his hands from the table. His hands were unusually large and he was an artist at palming cards. He would deal with three cards con- cealed in the palm of his right hand and work the ones not needed to the dis card with his left. After hours of hard play and nu- merous drinks the players was not closely watched while he deait. As the deck was placed for Sniffles to cut he would just be raising his handkerchie( to his nose. Apparently not wishing to delay the game, he would pause in the act and reach to cut with the handkerchief still held in his hand. As he cut and replaced the cards in play they were picked up with the handkerchief and the framed deck left for the dealer. The local man, entirely innocent of the switch, would deal the false hands around the table, and of course the best one always went to Sniffles. Cold Decks and Marked Cards ONCE knew a hop-head whose bug was placing cold decks. When full of the poppy juice he had the required nerve, but not the judgment. In fact his work was so coarse that he only furnished amusement for the gamblers. One day he approached a bartender for assistance in plac- ing a cooler. That night while the game was at its best, and the hop-head was starting the deal, the bartender set a round of drinks on the table. His hand beneath the tray held a cold deck. The switch was quite simple, and the bartender carried the cards that had been in play, behind the bar with him. The hop-head grabbed the deck and started dealing at afurious pace. Ten cards quickly slipped from the deck, but the next one stuck. Again and again his thumb slid off the top of the deck, but the card refused to budge. Then the hop-head looked up and his gaze met a cirele of laughing faces. Instantly he whirled toward the grinning bartender, and biff! the glued-together deck shot over the bar and crashed among the fragile glasses. “Shut Upt"* Bert Hissed. “Get Out of Here. Affair and I Wilt Do the Same" Built-up cold decks were not usually a very successful form of graft. Marked cards brought into play by this method gave better results. Framed hands had to be sorted prior to a game or by retiring from play for a short time. Then there were many disadvantages to overcome. A deck would be fixed for a five-handed game, and before it could be placed there might be four or six players. Or again, if the number was right the man who was to get the big mitt might quit or lose his money. Perhaps the cold deck would be red and the players would insist on using blue cards. This form of cheating was dangerous work, for the evidence was on you, and if caught your money was sometimes confiscated and you were booted out of the place. Cold-decking was more successful on twenty-one games for the reason that more greenhorns tried banking this form of gambling. A cold-decker found these fellows easy picking. However, the greenest of them were never fleeced as I once saw described in a magazine. A dealer in a large gambling house goes to the bar to get a drink, leaving a house booster to guard the money. The gambler returns, picks up the deck which the booster has switched and loses a thousand to the booster’s confederate. Foolishness! You could just as well state that a cashier in a bank had paid a check without looking at the signature as to say that a gambler dealt out the cards in a large gambling house, after removing his eyes from them, without first carefully shuffling. Hold-out hands necessitated less risk than cold decks, and gave better results. One card in stud and three in Keep Your Mouth Shut About became less watchful and it was then that the sharper worked to best advantage. I have seen the shrewdest kind of work fail and the raw- est stuff win a big pot. As an instance of the latter I recall a draw-poker game at Prairie City, Oregon, many years ago. The game was five-handed, and a foreign-looking chap, a mining promoter and a local character by the name of Bill Dunn had mixed in a large pot. However, on the last play-back after the draw Dunn had dropped out, thus forfeiting all rights to any portion of the money. On the show-down the foreigner held the winning hand. The promoter had made the last raise, and owing to the fact that the foreigner lacked sufficient funds to call the full amount, the promoter was entitled to a portion of his money back. A heated argument arose as to the exact sum to be returned. The pot remained in the center of the table while the players stormily raged at each other. During the quarrel I saw Dunn reach over, pick up the deck and in full view of players and spectators leisurely sort out five cards. He then shoved the deck to one side, spread four sixes and a deuce face up on the table, and said, “I don’t see where you fellows have any argument coming when I hold the best hand myself.”’ The foreigner craned his neck, and his eyes bulged as he exclaimed, ‘Vot? Four sixes? Vy you not show them before?” “Oh, I just wanted to hear you fellows argue,” Dunn replied. ; “Vell, you vin de pot. Vy don’t you take it?” Dunn had originally made the play only as a joke, but when the foreigner said take it, he did, and kept it. The This Little

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iq ij ' + ® é a 5 q % t ‘ extreme anger of the two had driven all remembrance of Dunn’s quitting the pot from their minds, and before they realized their mistake Dunn had left town with the money. On a number of occasions I have seen the poorest hand win good pots on the show-down. It was in a draw-poker game in Oakland, Oregon, that I saw a traveling card sharp building up the discard into framed hands. He was an expert shuffler, and only a trained observer could see that the top cards were not disturbed in the process. When the cards were cut he was telling an interesting story and I was the only player who saw him pick up the cards and deftly shift the cut. He did it artistically and I knew beforehand just where the framed hand would light. It fell to a young sport who had a large roll in front of him. A good pot was built before the draw and each called for two cards on the helping deal. The young fellow made a strong bet and the gambler called and tapped him on the play-back. The lad then got nervous, for he had heard that the gambler was a sharp. He had not seen any crooked work, but the fact that the fellow had dealt made him suspicious. He made a long study of his cards, inter- spersed with numerous remarks. By this time he had settled in his own mind that the gambler held four aces and kept repeating his conviction aloud. However, he finally called, and the gambler at once spread his cards face up on the table—three aces and a pair of treys. The young man gave one look and exclaimed, “ Four ! ” aces! I knew it all the time and was a fool for calling! Winning on Two Flukes & HE spoke the hand which held his cards dropped to the table, and for an instant before he slammed them into the discard the astonished players and spectators gazed on four queens andatenspot. Very slowly the gambler slid his cards together, facing them down in the process, tossed them to the deck and raked in the pot. Both had made a mistake. The gambler had built up three aces and three queens, and the betterment of their hands in the draw had heen honest drop-in’s. The gambler had played the kid for a queen full, and the kid felt so sure that the gambler held four aces that he plainly saw them on the show-down. At this point some might ask why the young man was not told of his mistake. For their information I will state that each player in those days had enough rough-houses of his own to attend to without fighting the other fellow’s bat- tles. A man was supposed to be able to protect his own money. If the young man had started a fight he would have been assured of a square deal. No one but himself was to blame for losing the pot. If he had spread his hand on the table as the gambler did, he would have won the pot with- out protest. One evening at Rosebud, Nevada, a fellow came to my tent and informed me that a draw-poker game was on in Happy Howe’s saloon An hour after my entrance into the game all the play- ers had been eliminated but Jack Creel and myself. We had played single- handed draw but a short time when I got three sev- ens before the draw. There were several raise- backs, Jack making the last call. I drew two cards and Jack stood pat. I passed and he made an unusually large bet for the size of the pot. Though it was against my methods of playing to do much call- ing, I felt so sure that Jack was bluffing that I called, spreading my cards face up on the table as I did so. Jack glanced at my hand and said, “Good,” at the same time tossing his cards to the deck I raked in the pot, something like two hundred and fifty dollars, and we each went our way. Years later we met, and in our reminiscences of old times Jack asked me if I remembered that particular game. I did, and he said, “‘ You won on the poorest hand.” “Why?” I asked. However, the Old Codger Was Lucky, and Soon Separated Me From My Money THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 21 “Well, I bad just come from a camp where they played threes to beat astraight. ‘The Rosebud rules were that a straight beat threes. It was only after throwing my cards away that I remembered that my hand was the best.” It was at Randsburg, Cali fornia, that I entered a saloon one evening where a draw- poker game wasen. With hun- dreds of dollars on the table before him, was a saloon keeper from a rival mining camp. Four of the Rands’ best players were pitted against him and were not doing well. They were not at all serupulous about methods of annexing this foreign money, as they termed it; but they were poorly organized and hav ing bad luck Not So Good T WAS a matter of pride with them that they should send the stranger back to his camp broke I declined the wink to sit in, aS It was against my rules to play crooked poker; but I watched with much amusement the wonderful luck of the victim \ crowd soon gathered to see the fun, for our boys were plainly in distress. They bungled their work and often gave the advantage to the saloon man Then Big Tex got desperate and began bringing in hold-out hands which he concealed from the players in the rear of his hatband. He would sit with his hands clasped on the back of his head during the deal and was Continued on Page 112 I Knew That Luck Would Soon Turn. It Didn't Matter if I Did Have to Clean Out Pigpens Just to Get Money for Another Game

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Il WAS several moments before Laban could | regain his feet, and several more before he could - regain his breath. Then his mind cleared and he thrust a groping hand out through the darkness. He wasn't even sure, until his fingers touched the cool flesh of ILLUSTRATED By Arthur Stringer BY JAMES H. CRANK July 7,1923 He docilely crossed to the windows to carry out this order. But he first leaned far out over the wide sill. “Yes, it could be done,” he said as he drew back after his examination of the wall. “What could be done? the girl’s prompt inquiry. ” was her shoulder, that the girl was there beside him ‘Are you hurt?” he heard her ask in a whisper. Then he felt her hand on his arm as he tugged usele ssly at the door. ‘No, no,” whispered. We must wait.” “Not on your life!” he cried, rather drunkenly, dizzy with the indignities to which he had “T’ve nothing to deserve this!” she done And he continued his assault on the heen subjected. door panels “No, listen !"’she commanded, holding him back. “Listen! Do you hearthem? They’research- ing the room!” Faintly Laban could hear the quick and frantic movements the room beyond the locked door. Then came another sound, theshrill of the telephone call bell, repeated again and igain. The girl behind him was shaking his arm. ‘Will they find them?” she asked, with her lips close to his far ‘Find what?" he asked “What I gave you,” she said, and then he remembered. “They're wonders if do,”’ he answered “But where did them?” she persisted. “T'll show you when we get out,” he told her “And just how are we going to do that?” she asked with a note of exasperation in her voice. But he was listening, with his ear to the heavy door panel, and did not answer her question when he spoke. “| believe they've gone,” he whispered down to her after another atretch of silence during which she had dropped to her knees, apparently to examine the door lock ‘I was wondering if we could do anything with a hairpin,” she explained, with her eye to the keyhole. He knelt beside her in the darkness. She was at least game. But the hairpin sugges- tion, he soon realized, was of no help tothem. He felt carefully about the door frame. al ‘ aHout they you put “Anyone with nerve enough could work his way along those wall ledges,” explained Laban. “Tt could be done, without even claiming to be a human fly.” He locked the two windows and clesed the heavy-slatted blinds. When he turned about he saw the girl rearranging her hair in front of his dresser mirror. “You didn’t give me my slip- per back,”’ she said to him over her bare shoulder. He went to the clothes closet for the missing slipper. But before returning it to her he threw back the key in the closet lock, readjusted the door and pounded the hinge pins down in place. “There was a light in here we might have turned on,” he called out to her. “Was there?” she called back in a slightly thickened voice, for she had a mouthful of hair- pins as she spoke. Laban, with the slipper still in his hand, stepped out of the closet and closed the door. He paused a moment to pick a pillow up from the floor and toss it to the disordered bed. He was stooping for the second time when an unexpected sound ar- rested his movements. The sound, he realized, came from his room door. That door was thrown open, without ceremony, and a thick-bodied man in a black hat just as unceremo- niously stepped into the room. Involuntarily Laban moved towards the girl still preoccupied with the rearranging of her hair in front of his mirror. He did this because he suspected for a moment that the intrusion meant the return of his earlier enemies. But about this new- comer was an air of heavy authority which both quieted and disquieted the staring Laban, who noticed that the girl, catching sight of the new- comer in her mirror, wheeled about and stood wide-eyed and startled at his side. Silently the black-hatted man inspected them. Then just as silently he inspected the room. Then he said, out of the dark- ness, ‘I’ve got it!" “What is it?” she asked. “T can get the pins out of the door hinges,” he explained. “T've got the top one now, and that's the middle one, But this bottom one is tighter. It would be easy if I only had something to pound it with.” “Try my slipper heel,” she said, with one hand on his steoping shoulder as she pulled the slipper from her foot. He took it from her, and using one of the already loos- ened pins as a punch he soon had the lower hinge free. Then came the hardest part of his job. That was to work the hinge end of the door far enough away from its frame to get a grip on it with his fingers, forthe door, to save space for the room entrance, swung in instead of out. By using a coin as a wedge, however, he was finally able to pry the door away from its jamb, and the rest was easy. The lock bolt slipped out of its socket as the door was drawn aside, and they were free again and grateful for the fresh air of the outer room, where the ceiling light, still burned and where no sign of the two interlopers with the auto- matics remained. But it was not a pretty-looking room. It still bore every evidence of the quick and frantic search that had been “Bring the Young Upstart Over to Me,'' Laban Heard the Shrilt Otd Voice Command made through it. The huge brass bed had been pulled out from the wall, the bedding itself was disarranged, and the camera which Laban had left under one of the pillows was gone. e But the metal cap which crowned the lower right-hand bedpost, he had the presence of mind to observe, remained in its place and had in no way been interfered with. Table and desk and dresser drawers, however, were all open and awry. Laban’s suitcase lay on the floor, with his belong- ings tossed pell-mell about the carpet. The first thing that definitely caught his eye was one of his five Okanagan Valley apples in a far corner of the room. He noticed as_ he picked it up and turned it over that it was not only bruised but also bore the mark of having been punctured by a thin knife blade. It was this ill treatment of his apples more than anything else that he resented, and his face was both a rueful and an angry one as he proceeded to gather up the rest of that scattered fruit. He was interrupted in this, however, by his slightly bewildered-eyed companion. “Shut and lock those windows,” she commanded, Still without speaking, he stepped back to the still open dooz, where he waited for a smaller and more clerical-looking man to join him. There was solemnity on the face of each as the two stepped un- invited into the room. “Is that your man?”’ asked the smaller of the two. The black-hatted person shook his head from side to side. “How about the woman?” asked the other intruder, as impersonally as though the pair confronting him were wax dummies in a shop window. But the girl beside Laban betrayed no intention of acting like a window dummy. “How dare you come into this room?” she angrily challenged. The heavy-bodied man looked at her with an apathetic eye. “That's exactly the question I want to ask you,” he retorted; and his face, as he stared at her, was a stolidly insolent one. “And who are you?” asked the girl without giving ground. “I’m the house detective,”’ he informed her. “And this is Mr. Givens, our assistant manager.”

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\4 2 r f - - a ' q mn ! i The girl, however, betrayed iio interest in that second announcement. Her attention was directed solely towards the larger of the two men. “Then you're arriving a trifle late on the scene,” she remarked with a valorous show of indifference. “But not too late to put a stop to this sort of thing,” announced the wide-shouldered official in the black hat, which still remained on his head. “It’s one of the things this hotel doesn’t stand for, and isn’t going to stand for.” Laban stepped forward at that, with a flush of anger. But the solemn-eyed young woman in the yellow silk dinner gown drew him back. Then she faced the house detective, with her chin up. “Have you any idea as to whom you're addressing?” she demanded; but her indignation, for some reason, failed to carry. “That doesn’t interest me,” was the other’s altogether listless retort. ‘‘All I’m trying to do is keep this house respectable, and I can’t say you two birds have been making it any easier for me.” For the second time the girl held back the youth at her side. But it was the clerical-looking man who, with a movement of exhausted patience, spoke first. “T think we’ve had just about enough of this, Burke,”’ he said as he stepped past his house detective and con- fronted Laban. ‘“‘ We want this room, young fellow. You've got ten minutes to get what you own out of it. That'll give you just fifteen minutes, all told, to get out of this hotel, and get out of it for good!” It was the heavy-jowled house detective who spoke next. “How about the woman?” he asked his superior. “She gets out, and she gets out right away,”’ retorted that official, without so much as another glance at the girl. It was Laban who turned and looked at her. He shared for a moment the detachment of the black-hatted man, still so impersonally eying her. She seemed to recede from him, so that he could stand there wondering why she should wear such a look of desperation on her agitated young face, wondering why the seal brown eyes should be so clouded with frustration. But she came closer again the next moment, reinstated by the sheer pictorial appeal of burnished brown hair and alert slenderness and orange colored cloak about sloping ivory shoulders. She was a wonderful young woman, Laban had to admit, with h head thrown back that way and the splash of red showing along her anger-whitened cheek. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST “But this is all so stupid!”’ she was crying out. “So stupid—if you only understood!" “Understood what?’’ heavily asked the black-hatted man. “That this is the man I’m going to marry,”’ retorted the girl as she linked her arm through Laban’s; and Laban, without knowing it, stood with his shoulders a trifle farther back. “Then you'd better get where the fact is better known,” announced the cold-eyed man of administration He stopped for a moment at the door. He stopped and glanced casually back, as though the matter were already a closed issue with him. ‘See that they’re out, Burke, in the time I said.” “They'll be out,”’ averred Burke with guttural-noted conviction. “T guess I've got something to say about that,” cried Laban, going from red to white and back to red again “T’m going to stay in this room until The girl cut him short “No, we'll go—er— Mr. Burke,” she announced with a sort of painfuliy achieved patience. “‘ Within ten minutes’ time we'll both be away from your painfully respectable hotel. There'll be no difficulty about that. But before the honor of your hospitality is withdrawn I merely wish to warn you that you are making the mistake of your long and doubtfully varied carcer. I can quite see that you don’t appreciate that particular fact. But I can assure you, you will before you hear the end of it. And now if you'll be so kind as to withdraw, and close the door after you, I can finish dressing and get ready to go.” Burke eyed her in heavy and unruffled silence, made a sound in his throat not far removed from a grunt, and slowly turned and walked out of the room. The girl, the moment the door closed behind him, ran across the room and locked that door. Then she turned about, with her back against its polished panel. “But I say * began Laban. “Quick!” she gasped. “Get ready! Get everything!” “But I don’t fs “Of course you don’t! But we can’t argue about that now. We're going, but we're not going the way you think For that man isn’t the house detective and that other man hasn't anything to do with the management of this hotel!"’ “Then who are they?”’ demanded the wide-eyed Laban “That's what I'm trying to figure out,’’ was the girl’s reply as she motioned for Laban to make ready. “But what makes you say they’re not what they claim to be?” he asked, finding the pill a hard one to swallow She laughed at his solemnity. It was an abandoned little laugh, and at the same time a confident one, ‘Because my old dad just about owns this hotel,”’ she announced with a smile still wreathing her willful young lips Then her face, as Laban stooped to gather up his belong ings, suddenly grew sober. Her tug at the slack of his sleeve made him look up. “The jewels!"’ she reminded him. “ Did they get them?” His face went blank as he stood up and stared about the room. It went blank, not with consternation but with concern. Whatever happened, he remembered, it would be best to leave that double-barreled cache behind him. It would be safe enough for the time being. Circumstances had already proved that. And there was a riddle about this young woman in the orange cloak which he wanted t read before he went too far. She still puzzled him in more ways than one; and the solution of that problem, he felt, was not going to prove a disagreeable experience. “They're all right,”” he finally acknowledged, meeting the studious eyes still bent on his face. “But where?” she repeated with a sharp stamp of hei foot He turned and faced her “Don’t you trust me?”’ he demanded as their glances met and locked, Her eyes, he noticed, were hard, and behind their hard ness still again lay a tinge of frustration. But as they continued to study the face which she had so recently acknowledged to be an honest one the sternness went out of her gaze and the lines about the impatient red mouth relaxed a little “Don’t you trust me?” he repeated, rejoicing, for all his guardedness, in the intimate nearness of that ebullient young face that made him think of a tip-tilted trillium “Sure,” she finally acknowledged with her irresponsibl little laugh; and Laban, manlike, nursed the momentary glow of the conqueror. vi ABAN, during the next few minutes, was quite content to play second fiddle. He was an outlander, unfamilia with the ways of that strange city into which he had irrupted with such unexpected results. But the girl beside Continued on Page 42 Her Hand Swept Under Her Own Equatty Voluminous Drapery and Seemed to Conjure Out of Thin Air a Bright«Metated Revolver

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24 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST THE SATURDAY EVENING POST REG, VU. 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 Pive Cents the Copy From All Newsdealers. By Subscription: To the United States end Possessions, Argentina, Bolivia, Brazil, Colombia, Costa Rica, Cubs, Dominican Republic, Ecuador, Guatemala, Isle of Pines, Mexico, Nicaragus, Panama, Paraguay, Peru, Republic of Honduras, Salvador, Spain and Uruguay, $200 the Year. Remit by U. 8. Money Order, Express Money Order, Check or by Draft, payable in U. 8. Funds Te Canada —By Subscription, $3.00 the Year. Single Copies, Ten Cents — Canadien or U. 8, Funds Other Foreign Countries in the Postal Union: Subscriptions, $6.00 the Year Remittances to be by Draft on a bank in the U. S., payable in U. S. funds. PHILADELPHIA, JULY 7, 1923 Blue Sky and White Paper -PTIBERE have been times in the last few years when even | the discriminating reader of the metropolitan press might easily and yet mistakenly have reached the conclusion that all that the more prominent bankers and financiers do is to attend luncheons and dinners where the sole topic of discussion is the protection of the people’s savings. Cer- tainly if heavy lunching and dining at the best clubs, if even heavier speechmaking and solemn resolutions could prevent the operations of get-rich-quick sharks, these gentry would have been exterminated long ago. Naturally the bankers, the responsible dealers in securi- ties, with reputations to maintain, and the business men in any community, feel it their duty to check as far as possible the depredations of crooked or merely irresponsible stock promoters and salesmen. But such efforts are too often confined to pious wishes and generalities. Bankers’ asso- ciations, investment bankers, chambers of commerce, thrift committees, and the like, all these mean well, but they are relatively powerless to check the evil. The newspapers of the country are the real weapons, potentially speaking, against the get-rich-quick shark. The newspapers—or at least those which carry financial adver- tising could do more to end the appalling loss through the foisting of fraudulent securities upon the public than all the blue-sky commissioners and bankers’ associations com- bined. They cannot do this through the publication of sound and conservative advice written by their financial and editorial writers, but solely through the refusal to accept the advertising of dubious securities, For, naturally, editorial matter which is contradicted by advertising in the same issue carries little weight. For years it has been recognized by newspaper and advertising men that certain newspapers accept and others do not accept questionable financial advertising. It has been the policy of some papers to be decent and apparently the deliberate policy of others to be the reverse. Nor can it be said that as a rule the total net profits of those which have accepted blood money have been larger over a period of years than the profits of those whose policy took into account considerations of public welfare. It is merely that certain publishers could not forgo any money offered them, while others have tempered their selfishness with a sense of responsibility to their readers. Whenever a newspaper is approached, or reproached, because of the buncombe character of much of its financial advertising, there is a tendency on the part of the publisher to say that he cannot censor his advertisers or separate the sheep from the goats. Perhaps he feels that he must accept any concern which has a perfunctory permit from the state blue-sky commission. He is running a newspaper, he says, and not a rating agency. But the fact remains that there are and long have been papers able to discriminate, competent to separate the sheep from the goats, qualified to reject what all experi- enced business men and journalists know to be dubious and misleading advertising. Many years ago the advertising managers of large city dailies developed a thoroughly com- petent technic for making such distinctions, as far as their own protection was concerned. Indeed, it might be quite enlightening to the public if the larger city dailies which still accept dubious financial advertising would publish in detail the different methods of payment for advertising required of doubtful concerns as compared with those of firms known to be reliable, or the methods of forcing pay- ment from the fakers before they blow up. There are newspaper men who defend the publication of vile criminal news on the ground that the public wants it. Yet the public buys and reads papers which do not print such stuff. It cannot be said that the public wants mis- leading and fraudulent financial advertising. All that can be said of such a cancerous newspaper growth is that the publisher wants quick and easy money, even though in many cases he is the very one whose high-powered editorial writers talk the loudest about the rights of the down- trodden people! “In every city where fake operators have reaped their harvest you will find most or all of the papers in league with them,” says one newspaper which can honestly boast of no such connection. ‘ You will find most of the papers carrying the cleverly baited advertisements. Instead of warning their readers against the crooks as they would warn them against the spread of an epidemic disease, these papers of peculiar principles print for money announce- ments that enable the fakers to rob their readers.” It may not be that all or most of the newspapers deserve such a flaying. Everywhere there are ou.ztanding excep- tions, clean and courageous. But there are enough of the other kind to constitute a great and as yet impassable stumblingblock to any real progress in cleaning up the business of selling securities. No doubt in many cases the papers have been of very real editorial assistance to state and other prosecuting authorities in financial clean-up campaigns. But their aid is surely very limited when they accept advertising of the concerns which are under sus- picion or of those doing a business very similar. In New York State, which has no blue-sky law, there has been more or less continuous wrangling between the Stock Exchange and various legal gentlemen as to the wisdom of adopting certain legislation designed to protect investors. In the same way for years the investment bankers’ associations have argued with state legislatures regarding blue-sky laws, and at times have even resorted to litigation to test certain features of these laws. For several years, too, various committees of Congress have taken testimony concerning a Federal blue-sky law, and numbers of blue-sky bills have been introduced. May it not be modestly suggested that, worthy as many of these efforts are, they are perhaps off the main issue? The newspapers have it within their power to put a really serious check on the stock fraud and get-rich-quick evil. The cleanliness of their advertising columns is the ideal blue-sky weapon. The protection of the investor can pro- ceed no faster than the press of the country is willing to carry it. Alas, the Poor Artist! F THE thousand and more pictures exhibited recently at the Royal Academy in London only about a hun- deed were sold. For every picture hung, there are scores painted; so it follows that the British artists have sold this year a very small percentage of their work. In fact, one of them was so depressed at the meager return and the pros- pect of lean years ahead that he broke into print with a July 7,1925 prophecy. In thirty years, at the mest, he declares, the sale of pictures will have ceased and there will be no more artists. He ascribes this condition to the commercialism of the present age, which, in turn, he blames on the people of the United States. ica’”’ seems to be the motto of the European calamity “When in doubt blame it on Amer- howler. The real reason for the small sale of pictures in London is so plain that none but an overwrought artist could fail to see it. The people who usually buy paintings are taxed so heavily that they are stripping the walls of their picture galleries rather than buying new paintings. And the heavy taxes are the direct result of the war. It would be in better part, therefore, as well as entirely accu- rate, to place the blame where it belongs, on the busy Apologist of Doorn. There is another reason for the cessation in buying, one that can be placed squarely on the doorstep of the artist himself. Of course the best artists had nothing to do with the flood of insanity that brought to the fore in successive waves Cubism, Futurism, Vorticism, and all the other schools and isms. It was general enough, however, to con- vince the public that art and lunacy were sometimes closely allied. We are back almost to normal in painting now. Earnest trail blazers, besmocked and batiked, still bear the torch of the new and the bizarre; but to most of the cubists of yesteryear the office stool and the ribbon counter have beckoned. Enough of the influence of the extreme schools is still left to make standards of judgment vague, however Who feels safe in pronouncing a picture good when a few years ago barbaric splotches of formless color were ac- claimed masterpieces? When a wealthy patron is paying a stiff price for a canvas he wants to feel that there are some fairly fixed standards in art to justify his choice One thing is certain: the only class in England today likely to indulge liberally in the purchase of high-priced paintings, the war profiteers, will never get enthusiastic over the New Art. Natty still-life sketches a slice of melon and a bunch of grapes—probably suit a fish on a platter or better the taste of these new connoisseurs. Not for your profiteer is the poetic landscape or the angular nude. This modern stuff, to use an Americanism, leaves him cold. Finally, for the benefit of the dejected artist who pre- cipitated this discussion, may we point out that neither the war nor the New Art originated in America? Our Wheat-Raisers’ Competitors HE Rumanian Government has recently issued some data on export of cereals during the last two years and Using the exports of 1913 as 100, the exports during the iast two years were as follows: before the war. YEAR 1913 . 1921 A Neg 7 See 4 WHEAT 100 BARLEY OATS CORN 100 100 100 103 95 79 155 131 29 Striking is the falling off in exports of wheat and corn. The reduction in export of wheat has been due to low yields, to low acreage due to parcellation of land and to breakdown of transport. The low export of corn has been due to crop failure and breakdown of transport. The ex- ports of oats and barley have held up well, in the relative sense, though the quantities were not large. Rumania could spare these largely because the domestic animals are still far below normal in numbers, and in addition the new boundaries of Rumania include excellent oat and barley land. Taken as a whole, Rumania has fallen off greatly in export of cereals. As consequences of this, the finances of the state and the balance of trade are in deplorable condition. But this cannot last. Sooner or later, Rumania will enjoy again large crops, and these will pass out to export. The corn will go to Central Europe, especially Germany; the wheat will go to Italy and France. The American farmer cannot meet the prices of Rumanian grain; the low standard of living of the Rumanian peasant enables him to raise grain at lower costs than are possible in this coun- try. We have been playing substitute for Eastern Europe. Is it not wise to be prepared to give up the rdle?

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HEN Congress in its wisdom, or, as so often happens, in the wisdom supplied by someone outside of Congress, decided to abandon its traditional policy of considering the United States of America as a haven for the oppressed and down- trodden of all nations, it took a brave step forward. In- cidentally, it raised the deuce. I will ask both the gentle and the roughneck reader to keep this well in mind, for the moral of this piece—which for the sake of originality I will now state—is that though everybody is in favor of a restrictive policy of immigration, nearly everybody objects strenuously to the fact that it keeps immigrants out. And what is not at all incidental, it created much trouble for the Secretary of Labor, the Assistant Secretary of Labor and a Second Assistant Secretary of Labor, whose office was created solely for the purpose of absorbing this excess trouble. It built a fire under the chair of the Commissioner- General of Immigration which has been burning brightly ever since. It provided an unlimited field for renewed activities of welfare organizations having departments dealing with immigrants and alien citizens. It created an unfailing supply of most excellent material for safe-and- sane speeches around election time. It dumped a gold mine at the feet of lawyers specializing in deportation ap- peal cases. 3ut to ge. back to Congress and its departure from the well-lighted blazed trail of tradition into unexplored fields. Literally hundreds of statisticians, economists, near and alleged statisticians and economists — most of them lacking in terminal facilities—were quickly pro- vided with remunerative employment by various industrial associations to discover just how soon we might expect to find ourselves face to face with a serious crisis ff P A due to an unprecedented shortage in com- “Ks . . . f 4 mon labor. These scientists and pseudo Mage ' Gosh! How Lone iS THIS THING sted) GOING To LAST. / THE SATURDAY EVENING POST D SOB STORIES By Ernest Greenwood scientists were soon telling us all about the prospective rise in the cost of production due to damming the stream which filled our constantly increasing need for labor and the consequent increase in the cost of living, which might be expected to soar to such heights that the average citizen might as well hunt around for some place to die without any hope of leaving his family enough to give him a decent burial. Other statisticians and economists were quick to refute these statements and demonstrate that the change m the traditional attitude of Congress was the only thing which had saved the nation from the clutches of a rabid, radical European proletariat. Biologists proved —to their own satisfaction, at least—that the new policy would go down in history as the savior of the sturdy American stock, while others proved that there is no such thing as an Amer- ican race, and without the constant addition of new blood from Europe the good old melting pot would grow cold, rusty and nonproductive. The whole nation has become involved in a series of debates centering around the dear old immigrant or alien citizen, as the case may be. And the sob sister? Ah, yes, the sob sister! It is with the kind of literature in which she deals that this story has to do. For the past two years the editor of the daily newspaper has counted that day lost when at least one edition did not contain a heart-rending immigration story. Combined, these stories have formed an endless serial of unjustifiable THE SKEPTIC adverse criticism of the administration of a public office. What is the real story? What actually are the facts? Not many months ago the papers were filled with what became known in the Bureau of Immigration as the case of the Milanese banker's wife from the Argentine According to the milder accounts, a prominent Italian woman, the wife of a banker of Milan, coming to this country for a brief visit to relatives, had been taken from her first cabin detained at Ellis Island and ordered deported because the juota for Italy was exhausted. Of course, the fact that the quota law does not affect bona-fide visitors would have spoiled the story if printed, and if the facts had been as stated it would indeed have been a bonehead play. The more rabid stories told lurid tales of the manner of her removal to Ellis Island, the withholding of her luggage and clothes, and might have been an account of the cheerful and encouraging manner in which the authorities of soviet Russia handle persons who for one reason or another have incurred their displeasure The story crept from the news columns to the editorial page. The following editorial, taken from a prominent paper — Republican—is typical Isn't it about time for the Secretary of Labor to take the officials at Ellis Island in hand and try to instill into their minds a few intelligent ideas? blundering crew in a responsible position, The latest perform It is hard to imagine a more stupid and ance is of a piece with hundreds of others. Because the quota of Italian immigrants for June has already been exhausted, the wife of a Milan banker, traveling first class on the American steamship Reliance, was sent to Ellis Island as soon as the veasel reached New York. There it was decided to deport her, and she would be on her way home now had she not refused to sail without her baggage. Unless the relative she came to visit returns to New York in time, she will probably be sent back at the next opportunity. Meanwhile she re mail among the immigrants at the i land (Continued on Page 116

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The Comic Supplement Child DEHOLD the Comic Supplement Child, DP Hi ways are rough and his manner wild, He clip ister’s golden hair, ind he puts big tacks on his teacher's chair. But you hardly can blame the misguided off his youlh manner is crude and his speech un- couth, ; , think If hi of the awful example he's ider the Comie Supplement Dad. The father who lives Has six mangy hairs on his upper lip, lndhi ind his clothing is several sizes too large, ind his body grows stiff, and he falls fraight bac k When the Supplement Child makes a on the comic strip hoe is as big as asmall-sized barge, unny Cras . » you can’t blame the child for his ill-bred play When he see it vay own father behaving that So pily the Comic Supplement Lad, For really at heart he is not so bad Though he dynamite, jours glue in the baby's bed at night, blows schoolhouse with up his ps wriggly worms down his mother’s hac k, Puts a great big rock on the railroad track, Though hundreds are killed, yet you know it’s done In a spirit of harmless and innocent fun. r his motives, and don’t be r’iled pranks of the Comie Supplement hild Newman Levy. Th’ Age o' Money Makin’ WE RE livin’ t’day in th’ greatest period o’ human existence, an age when ther is absolutely no alibi fer a travelin’ umbreller mender, an age when it is almost a reflection on a feller t’ bea pedestrian, t’ say nothin’ o’ not ownin’ a music box. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ORAWN GY A. 6. FULLER Th’ great industrial institutions are slingin’ money right an’ left an’ screamin’ fer foreign labor; th’ newspapers are filled with ads fer good salesmen an’ sober ealliope players; our farmers are short-handed an’ de- spondent thro’ lack o’ help; an’ th’ ery fer Will She Dive? peculiarly fine opportunity t’day fer real fer sure mechan- ics that kin actually repair automobiles. It seems t’ us that ther’s no end t’ th’ possibilities fer a feller that kin really fix a car. With millions of motor cars in operation 200,000 shares. July 7,1925 we don’t know but twenty-one or two mechanics that actuaily know ther busi- ness. People o’ t’day eat more, drink more fancy drinks, spend more, dress bet- ter, an’ enjoy ’emselves more, than at any other period in th’ history o’ this nation, an’ if they’d jest work more ther’s no tellin’ how we would thrive. Ther’s too many fellers lookin’ fer positions instead o’ jobs. Forty-five cents an’ hour fer pushin’ a lawn-mower, an’ ninety-five cents an hour fer common or barn car- penters is peak wages, while fifteen dol lars per week with room an’ board an’ cast-off clothes fer sulky, inefficient dish breakers an’ meat burners is like pickin’ it off th’ window sill. Times may not be jest normal enough t’ suit th’ pessi- mist, but they’re mighty fine fer th’ hustler, an’ they must be way beyond the expectations o’ th’ dub. So th’ big mature youth who hangs around home an’ bunches his laundry with his father’s till he finds somethin’ t’ do that jest suits him, is shy on th’ peculiarities o’ th’ gen uine if he can’t hit his gait t’'day. We've only got jest one little objection t’ make in regard t’ th’ times--we’re jest a trifle afraid that th’ salaries o’ bank cashiers is not keepin’ abreast with th’ cost o’ spec- ulatin’. Abe Martin. Truthful Circularization Re: Awful Crude Oil Corporation EAR FRIEND: Did you receive a 100 per cent cash dividend in the Awful Crude or did you miss your op- portunity to purchase Awful Crude stock prior to January 27? If you did not re- ceive a dividend you are only one of 10,000 stockholders now enjoying that unusual distinction. No dividend was paid and the directors have no intention of paying one, at least not while they are in their right minds. What do you think we went to all the trouble of organizing this company for? Certainly not to bene- fit total strangers. If you already have any stock, don’t brag about it. We offered a limited amount of stock for sale on January 1. To be exact Every share issued was fully paid and absolutely nonparticipating. We asked $2 a share for our stock, which price, we thought, was very reasonable. And we realized a handsome profit on this offering. After de- ducting for printing ex- penses and stamps, we efficient menan’ women in ever’ line of endeavor is echoin’ an’ reéchoin’ throughout th’ land. It’s nothin’ short of a misdemeanor t’ be out o’ employment in this day an’ age. Even if we've got th’ neuritis an’ can’t work we ought t’ be schemin’. Th’ wonderful progress o’ this country dates from th’ appearance o’ th’ Eclipse Kraut Cut- ter in 1841, an’ we've forged steadily ahead in ever’ way. Marvel- ous inventions have annihilated space an’ time an’ drudgery, an’ th’ golden age is here with both feet. Even folks that don't de- serve success are suc- ceedin’ beyond ther fondest hopes. It's al- most criminal! t’ whittle or argue or play pool t’day when th’ atmos- phere is fairly teemin’ with chances t’ git t’ sie th’ front an’ quit walkin’. Ther’s a wow had left, to our credit, the tidy sum of $3938,- 782.69. The directors and officers then put the cover on the mime- ographing machine and went to California. Since the original offering was made the first gusher in Whack- under Field has been brought in. We here- with inclose a striking photograph of it, re- touched by our artist The golden flood from this well is now pour- ing in large quantities into the wells of the Standard Oil Company. It has as estimated initia! production of 10,000 barrels a day. This well is located not over 45 miles from etr office. We drive out every once in a while to see it. It is quite a curiosity and is really inspiring to those in the business. Our property lies just 1089 miles due ORAWN BY EL LIBON HOOVER The Conquerors (Continued on Page 122)

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SS oe cenner arene enn een nr te oo pret , 4 wa = \VVVYUUEAMUDSAAQHIDUUGSS¢¢00 OPDENSAAADSANNENAUALUsanannnnitny \ sel TP pZ 12 cents a can and in nada Ca THE SATURDAY EVENING POST for their delicious quality Just taste Campbell’s and get a new idea how good beans can really be! Slow-cooked. Digestible. Hearty and nourishing food! me TOMATO | ¥ 4 nic CAMPRELL Soup ne “y an ale ne" “

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 7 PON a certain } page in an al- , bum of auto- graphs are three en = ° tries The sweetest singer of our day writes 1 beautiful voice is the gift of God Beneath this, in very different hand writing, the of the Paris cabarets tells quee n us that: tn ugly voice may he the gift of God An actor, even more famous as a wit, observes: greatest gifl God's may be silence u | ISS DAPHNE WE CORLYN was walking with Cap tain Vieary in the paddock at Good A gallant warrior, now on the retired list, was at his best He had backed three win wood ners in succession “Will you do me a favor?” asked the young lady “You ask it and “T want you to Be a very nice at your club.” Which elub, Miss Corlyn?” “The Yorick.” “But we don't have boys at the y orick There one or two, sons of distinguished Who is your boy?” “Heisn't mine. Heis in daddy’s office.’ Captain Vicary winced. The committee at the Yorick drew the line just east of Temple Bar. Daddy was a prosperous stockbroker. Daphne continued sweetly “His name is Jock McAlpine. He got his Rugger blue at Oxford. He's the quietest, most unassuming boy I know. Everybody likes him. Can't you do this to please me?” “A blue, eh?” Of course it’s no disgrace for a young fellow to be pilled at the Yorick. “I'll talk to my old pal, Maidment. We might pull it off. I remember the boy. Maidment and I met him at your father’s house. He didn't cut into the talk. Our waiting list is diminishing.” No more was said at the time. But Daphne saw Jock when she returned to London and told him what she had done on his behalf. Words were not his strong suit, so he said nothing. Raised eyebrows expressed astonishment. “At the Yorick you will meet the right men, the rising and the risen. They ought to be useful to you.” a How a “I don't know, Daddy says that a good club is a great asset to any young man. You may be pilled, but Captain Vieary can pull strings. To please me he will. That’s that.” Jock left it at that. But he reflected with conviction: “They are sure to pill a mug like me.” He wasn't pilled. In all clubs you will find men who do nothing and do it incomparably well. They are accepted by fellow members as agreeable chatterboxes. They touch lightly upon themes of current interest; they acquire by constant practice a knack of imparting knowledge without seeming to do so; they are never didactic or argumenta- tive. No club couid carry on in the right—and occa- sionally tight —clubbable spirit without them. At the Yorick, Vicary and Maidment were familiarly accosted as Tom and Jerry. They suggested the famous Cerinthians. They had an air. Each had inherited money enough to live at ease. They belonged to what the Daily Herald stigmatized as the thoroughly comfortable class. are mem- bers U STRATE DO By HORACE ANNESLEY VACHELL cROS BY BY R. mM. 4. % re! By 7<. on) ; Cet | ’ Being a True Daughter of Eve, She Considered Time and Place Why it should be wicked to be thoroughly comfortable in this very uncomfortable world only a socialist can explain. Tom and Jerry told Jock McAlpine that he had been elected. Tom said genially: “T give you this advice that my dear old governor gave to me-—-he got me into the Yorick when, like you, I was on the young side: Don’t tell a story to any member of the clu, because it’s a thousand to three that he has heard it before. And don’t give information on any subject whatever to your seniors, because probably they have forgotten more about that same subject than you ever knew.” Jock accepted this advice humbly. When he entered the club for the first time as a member, Tom and Jerry entertained him at luncheon. After luncheon they intro- duced their young friend to their old friends after a fashion that Jock found disconcerting. “This,” said Tom, “is the Duke of Whitstable. have joined the club merely to look at him.” “And this,” said Jerry, “is a sporting peer who has won the Derby, and the kindly gentleman on his left is our hanging judge. He doesn’t look like it, does he?” The three members nodded most affably to Jock. Tom pointed out another member, whose classical features have been reproduced on picture post cards. “That is our actor-manager. He asked us lately what was wrong with the British stage, and we told him that it would recover tone after he was knighted. Knighting actors, as you may not know, automatically puts ‘em to bed.” Unhappily, Jock was shy. Tom and Jerry ought to have urged him to lunch at the Yorick every day for at least a fortnight. Perhaps our Corinthians took for granted that he would do so. Necessity constrained him to lunch instead at Pym’s, in the City. When he did sneak into the club, at tea time, nobody noticed him; which is, perhaps, a privilege in first-rate clubs. It you want to sit Men July 7, 1925 in a corner, or read a paper at meals, you can. Tom and Jerry beheld the new member in corners. “‘A dull dog, I fear,” said Tom. “Verysilent cove,” replied Jerry. Probably Jock would have left the Yorick and forfeited a large entrance fee, had it not been for happy chance. He was leaving Mr.Cor- lyn’s office, not far from the stock ex- change, when two magnates whom he knew by sight and reputation collided violently. Each apologized to the other. One asked care- lessly, “Know any- thing?” The other replied as carelessly, “‘ Buy tins.” That wasall. Jock reached the Yorick and ordered the best and cheapest tea in London. Before it was served, Tom came into the lounge Tom greeted his can- didate. “Hullo, McAlpine, know anything?” Jock, hardly aware of what he was saying, replied promptly, “Buy tins.” Tom’s attention was arrested. He remembered that Jock was in George Corlyn’s office. Jock had been pitchforked into that office by his guardian. He drew a very modest salary, and he was entitled to a small commission if he introduced new clients to an old-established firm. He had not drawn any commission yet. Because his guardian was a friend of Corlyn’s, Jock had been invited to his chief's house in Lancaster Gate, where he had met Daphne and her two sisters, Iris and Daisy. All three had seen him play football. Jock vould go through a scrum with half a dozen stalwarts on his back, but the Yorick scrum terrified him. He didn’t know—how cou!d he?— that Tom and Jerry indulged in mild fiutters when infor- mation was gilt-edged. “Do you mean it?” asked Tom. Jock nodded. “‘A rise in tins is about due,”” murmured Tom. Jock nodded again, and poured himself out a cup of tea. Tom ordered a whisky and soda. He was thinking to him- self: “‘This chap knows a bit.’’ They were alone in the lounge, but Tom jowered his voice. “Sure of your infor- mation, what?” Jock nodded for the third time. He was perfectly sure, not of his information hut of his informants. And then Vicary asked a natural question, which led, as will be seen, to remarkable results. “Got this tip from George Corlyn, eh?” “No; it’s mine. I—I picked it up. Now and again one does pick up tips in the City. This is a bit of all right.”’ “T shall tell Jerry Maidment. Do you mind?” “Why should I?”’ asked Jock. He was reflecting that chance had thrust into his hand an opportunity of doing a good turn to his proposer and seconder. In the tube he had considered and dismissed sorrowfully the possibility of buying tins on his own ac- count. His balance at his bankers’ forbade that. “T shall buy tins,” said Captain Vicary with decision. “What tins?” Jock hesitated, and was not lost. Hesitation marked him in Tom’s alert eyes as a man of caution. After a pause he said modestly, “I cannot answer your question offhand. But tomorrow at five I will submit a list of likely tins.” (Continued on Page 30)

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ‘‘Best to buy for bake or fry” = Guarantee4 Pure Laf Swift 4 Company usa a | Strawberries, raspberries, peaches, apricots for filling —but shortcakes vary mostly 1n the crusts OR most folks, no dessert can come up to the old fashioned shortcake—the double-deck kind with its layers of biscuit fluffy, white; between them and on the top crushed fruit aplenty. [ Raspberry Shortcake | 4 cupSwift’s" Silver % tenspece salt And now it’s raspberry time. Give your family a treat tonight ! , leaf Brend Pure 2 teaspoons sugar i f Lard V4 cup mils 7 . 2 cups flour Fresh raepberric You can be sure of success if you use the recipe given here. \ teaspoons baking F - 7 powder It tells just how to make shortcake with light and tender and } Mix and sift flour, baking powder, salt and | suger; work in Swift's ‘“Bilveriest” Brand fluffy crusts. And that’s where shortcakes vary mostly. | Pure p Lat 1; add milk. Roll and bake in a hot over Split, spread with Saeiee and 2 . s ol . c erve with sweetened raspberries and crear Swift’s ‘‘Silverleaf’’ Brand Pure Lard is the idea! shortening not only because it’s of just the right consistency to work in best with the flour, but because, as older cooks emphasize, it imparts a certain delicacy of flavor which only a very pure lard can give. Swift’s ‘‘Silverleaf’’? Brand Pure Lard is always uniform, always pure—and equally fine for frying or baking use. You can buy it from your grocer or your butcher in sanitary 1-pound cartons and in convenient pails of 2, 5 and 10 pounds. Swift & Company, U.S. A. Swift's “Silverleaf Brand Pure Lard

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Continued from Page 28) “Right! Uf Jerry goes in with me, we'll do business through your people.” Thank you,” said Jock. mm if USINESS was transacted through Jock’s people, and a young man earned his first small commission. Tins rose steadily. In the right company men are not too reticent about the favors which fortune may bestow upon them. Upon their losses they maintain silence. Jock became conscious that fellow members were looking at him with interest. Tom and Jerry spoke of him handsomely behind his broad back. “Do you know McAlpine?” “No. Who is he?” “Who is he? He played Rugger for Oxford. That's nothing. You ask any fellow in the City who he is. He made a parcel for me in tins.” “Looks rather young.” “How old was Napoleon at the Bridge of Lodi? Jock McAlpine, one of these fine days, will make Capel Court sit up and howl.” Thus easily is earned the bubble reputation. The earning of his second commission was almost as easy. A distinguished novelist played a game of billiards with Jock. Somehow, Jock’s command of the cue inspired respect. And the novelist, a shrewd observer, noticed that a youthful amateur played for safety when it served his purpose. After the game, the talk wandered eastward. “Vicary is a friend of yours.” Jock replied with some enthusiasm, ‘He and Maidment got me into this club.” “You're a broker, so Vicary tells me.” Jock let this pass. He wasn’t a full-fledged broker yet. The novelist continued: “ Vicary says nice things about It’s easier to make money than invest it. At least you that’s my unhappy experience.’ Jock nodded. He was honored, so he felt, by this touching mark of confidence; but he remembered Tom's advice. He told himself that the novelist had forgotten more than a youthful member had ever known. At the same moment the novelist was reflecting: ‘This young fellow must be somebody in the City or he wouldn't belong to this club.” “Can you recommend a sound industrial?” The modest Jock replied as hefore, “T'll submit a list to- morrow.” se Nad iv [ PON this oceasion Jock ‘ sought his chief. Being a football player, he went straight for the goal “| was asked yesterday for a sound list of industrials by a man who has not been too lucky in his investments.” “Um!” “His name is in the Daily Mail Year Beok among the celebrities.” “Are you at liberty to men- tion his name?” Jock mentioned it. George Corlyn smote the desk in front of him. “T like his books immensely. Il buy them. You say he’s a friend of yours?” Jock was sensible that friendship with a distinguished novelist was regarded by his chief with approving eyes. He replied regretfully, ‘Oh, no; just a club acquaintance.” ‘What club?” “The Yorick.” “Really? I congratulate you, McAlpine. I had no idea you belonged to the Yorick.” “Thanks to Miss Daphne, l do.” “What can you mean?” Jock explained. Miss Daphne had spoken to Cap- tain Vicary. George Corlyn listened attentively, but he made nocomment. When Jock finished, he said briskly: “Well, well, we must put our heads together over this. Um! Industrials? What's the use of submitting a list? I wish | could find a reliable list. There are one or two ” He frowned, rubbing an ample “wit You Do Me a Favor?" chin. ‘I owe your friend something. I'd like to do him well. You leave this to me.” Jock carried only one industrial to the Yorick. He spoke, for so young a man, portentously: ‘ You can put your shirt on it.” “T shall put more than that. I’m much obliged to you.” “T have reason to believe,’’ said Jock earnestly, ‘‘that this particular industrial is being quietly bought by the best people. I can’t say any more.”’ He couldn’t. He was quoting his chief. But he added diffidently, speaking for himself, “If you care to buy through my firm ——”’ “Why, of course, my dear fellow.” A much larger second commission was earned. Some weeks later the novelist quietly thanked Tom for mentioning to him McAlpine. “He put me in to a very sound concern.” “What did I tell you?” “Do you think I could ask McAlpine to look through my investments?” “That’s a brain wave,” declared Tom. It’s his business. I shall do the same.” Fortune, it will be remarked, was smiling upon Jock. The fickle jade went on smiling. Two lists of investments were submitted to Jock’s chief. He glanced at them, made no comment, and said to Jock, “I should like to meet your distinguished friend.” And again Jock replied humbly, “I cannot call him my friend.” “Tosh! He has submitted the list of his investments to you. If that is not a proof of friendship, what is?” Jock held his tongue. He was beginning to learn that holding one’s tongue may be a source of profit. “Bring him to dine, McAlpine.” Jock nodded. Next day George Corlyn slipped into his hand three sheets of typed script. “T have given these investments careful attention, my boy. Some are good, some are not. I have suggested certain changes. You will oblige me by not mentioning my name. I want to make the acquaintance of a man whose work I admire. You must manage that. But I don’t want him or anybody else to think that I am bribing him to come to my house. Twig?” Jock nodded. Tom Vicary accepted his list and Jock earned more commissions. The novelist, more cautious, marked time. He intended to show his revised list to a member of the “Why not? “You Ask it and See”’ July 7,1923 Yorick, Sir Claude Vansittart, a financial magnate ot prewar days, retired from active business, but one who kept a shrewd eye upon his own investments. He, too, was anxious to serve a distinguished friend. When he saw Jock’s list he expressed astonishment. “You say that this list was rev'sed by a member of the club?” “‘A nice boy. He put me into that industrial.” “Did he?” “And then I asked him to look over all my investments.” Sir Claude delivered judgment. “IT can only say this: I am frankly astounded. This boy—young McAlpine, you say—has sniffed out some of the best things in the market. Accept his suggestions. I have no comments to offer.” “Thank you very much.” Sir Claude, as has been said, had retired from active business; but he retained an interest in his old firm and occasionally wandered into the city, where he was sure of a welcome from his former partner. It happened, by mere luck, that he paid one of these periodical visits the day after he had seen Jock’s revision of the novelist’s invest- ments. That would have dropped from his mind in forty-eight hours. But his partner, now the head of the firm, com- plained of the scarcity of competent clerks. “T haven’t a fellow who isn’t a machine point, useless beyond that point.” Sir Claude said sharply, “I have found the lad you are looking for.” That was enough, from such a source. “Have you? Then please send him along.” Vansittart went back to the Yorick and found Jock having his tea. “You know who I am?” Jock nodded. “And I know something about you. Possibly you are tied up. If not, I should like you to see the head of my old firm. He may make you an offer worth consideration.” “I’m not tied up,” replied Jock, “but I’m doing fairly well with Corlyn & Co.” “What do you call fairly well?” Jock mentioned what he had earned, salary and com- missions, during the past month. Sir Claude looked surprised. “Chicken food!”’ he muttered. “No complaints.” “Really? From what I hear of you, you ought to be earn- ing more than that. Have a talk with my old partner.” Jock blushed. Hesitatingly, he blurted out the truth: “Youare most awfully kind. I think I must stick to my own people. You see, I knew noth- ing when they took mein. But I'm learning——slowly. And Mr. Corlyn has been very de- cent. I’m not such an ass as to think that they need me, but they might think me un- grateful if J left them.” Sir Claude was pleased with this speech. He decided that Jock was a young man out of the common. And he decided, asswiftly, that such an altruist must be secured. Probably a civil word with young McAl- pine’s chief would do the trick. He couldn’t possibly appraise his clerk at his true value if he paid him such a miserable sal- ary. Accordingly, he rang up Lancaster Gate at seven that evening. Corlyn and he were acquaintances. Within five minutes Corlyn grasped the es- sential fact. A firm of brokers was willing to pay McAlpine three times his present salary to secure his services. What about it? Jock’s chief replied curtly that he would speak to Jock next day. At dinner, alone with his wife and daugh- ters, he said carelessly, “‘ Do any of you think young McAlpine clever?” Mrs. Corlyn, a candid woman, replied promptly, ‘I think him remarkably honest.” “He is clever,”’ said Daphne. Iris and Daisy remained silent. lyn looked puzzled. “T must admit, my dears, that our young frienc’s cleverness has escaped me. Lately he (Continued on Page 56) good up toa Mr. Cor-

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST VERY Hupmobile owner wenliie directly, in better results and lower costs, by our policy of building only one chassis type. Obviously, such a plan 1s a manu- facturing economy; and the savings it produces are devoted to making all important Hupmobile parts and processes precisely as fine as those used in cars of much higher price. Out of this policy springs the ex- traordinary loyalty of our owners. For they find its advantages ex- pressed in the way the Hupmobile lasts, and in the way it keeps going without anything like the usual frequency and cost of bothersome adjustment.

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might be interested in what he had to sell; altogether, he told me, he had visited more than a thousand establishments, some of them several times. A small stock of his product was kept in a rented ware- house, the warehouse man delivering the orders the young man secured. The total cost of operations amc vunted to less than a thousand dollars a month, which included the delivery charges, the pay of a French girl bookkeeper and the salary of the young man himself. He was speeded up in his efforts by the promise of his home office that he would be made manager of the French branch if the Paris campaign went well, It was not from lack of capital that this a rican factory organization was starting s French business in this modest manner, o cause financially it is one of the strongest in the United States; merely it was a common-sense way to find out if its prod- ucts suited the French market, without risking a great deal of money. Incidentally, the young man told me the firm had de- cided to go ahead, and already plans were under way to begin advertising largely in French publications, establish regular headquarters and push its sales throughout the country. One of the best-informed export mana- gers in New York gave the following advice for the benefit of the manufacturing firm that is thinking of foreign fields: “The first and most important thing is to make up your mind precisely why you want to export. Leaving out the desire to expand merely for expansion’s sake, there can be just three reasons: First, you may want to do an export business simply for the profit there is in it; second, because you want to manufacture in greater quantities and thus cut down the cost of production; third, because your product may be of a seasonal nature, and orders coming ia from other countries can keep your factory going during the slack months of domestic business.” The concern which this export manager represents established its overseas business entirely for the last-named reason, It manufactures men's hats, which are a sea- sonal article, and on account of changing styles it is inadvisable to make up quanti- ties of stock to carry over from one season to another. Formerly, depending solely on United States business, there was almost always a.six-weeks period twice a year during which its factory had practically to shut down. An Outlet in New Zealand As any manufacturer knows, shutting up shop is about the most expensive operation there is; and this hat firm figured an actual loss during these periods of idleness of close totwo thousand dollars a day. Besides this, it was hard on the employes, who had to find other work during these enforced vaca- tions or be out of income altogether. Three years ago the president of the firm decided to try to eliminate these losses through establishing an export department, and en- gaged the present export manager, After = chereteh survey of conditions the export caain er approached the president some- thing like this: “Qur best chance for immediate results in export,”’ he said, “would, of course, be near-by territory like Canada, Mexico and Cuba; but that wouldn't relieve the situa- tion, because their seasons run along with ours and we should simply be piling up more orders for the already crowded work- ing months. “What we want todo is to go into south- of-the-equator territory, where the seasons are just the opposite of ours and the business will come in during our ordinarily slack times. Suppose we try it first in Australia and New Zealand.” This proposal was considerable of ashock. The president wanted to export his hats, but his imagination had never carried him quite so far as New Zealand, and the idea of shipping them to such a far-off place and taking one ‘es on being paid for them when they got there seemed a shadowy business. Sensing what was going on in the president's mind the export manager produced govern- ment figures proving that business is not at all odour on the other side of the world, but established on an exceptionally firm basis. In Australia and New Zealand the dealers as a rule are long established, and THE SATURDAY EVENING POST SELLING THINGS ABROAD (Continued from Page 16) the percentage of failures compares favor- ably with similar occurrences in the United States. Having fairly satisfied the presi- dent on the subject of credit losses the export manager proceeded to propose a still more startling idea: “Of course,”’ he said, ‘‘we shall have to make big price concessions to those fellows out there in the antipodes in order to com- pete with European manufacturers and somewhat to meet them halfway on the heavy freight and customs charges. I figure we ought to let them have our forty-dollar- a-dozen grades of hats for about thirty-five dollars, or even thirty on a pinch.” This was a point at which the president balked. He had, hesaid, built up his factory on a strictly one-price basis, even to the extent of refusing to make reductions to the largest dealers in the country, who wanted lower prices on account of quantity purchases. Anything else would be unfair to the small man, whose money was just as good as that of the biggest dealer in the world. The president added somewhat heatedly that to sell his hats to foreigners at bargain prices and to charge his old customers regular figures, seemed neither fair nor good business, nor even quite honest. A Successful Venture “T know just how you feel,” the export manager answered, “but let’s look at it in another way. You are closing your plant down at least two months every year be- cause all the domestic business comes in at the same time and you have to make up the hats to fit the seasons. It costs you at least a hundred thousand dollars every year to shut down, to say nothing of the hardship on your employes in having to teke en- forced vacationstwicea year. That hundred- thousand-dollar loss has to be made up in the prices you charge your American cus- tomers for your hats or you couldn't stay in business, Suppose, now, we go into that south-of-the-equator field and during the next few years work up a trade amounting to half a million dollars annually. Maybe we shall have to give those fellows such low prices that we actually lose 10 per cent on the business; in such a case the loss will be fifty thousand dollars. But with that busi- ness coming in, as it will, during our dull seasons, we won't have to shut down the factory at all. We shall save what it now costs to shut down, so in reality the net gain will be fifty thousand dollars. If you want to, you can pass on that gain to your American customers in the form of lower prices on the hats they buy. Looking at it that way, certainly there is no injustice in giving bargains to dealers in Australia and New Yealand.” The president was finally persuaded, and so far the export business has worked out better than expected. The credit problem practically solved itself by the fact that the Australians and New Zealanders have been used for years in buying from European manufacturers to pay bor merchandise upon receipt of invoices, taking their cash dis- counts, Often, the.export manager states, he gets his money for hats sent to Australia in a shorter time than for hats sold on time in the United States. He has not yet been able to work his south-of-the-equator busi- ness up to the half-million-dollar mark, but for the past two years it has resulted in cut- ting the annual shutdown period of the factory practically in half. A good working knowledge of the laws of the country where merchandise is to be sold is one of the important things in the export business. A few months ago an American clock company doing business in Spain got into a tangle through a vagary of Spanish law that looked for a time as though it might be serious. This company has had connections in Spain for a number of years and has worked up an extensive business, particularly in its cheap alarm clocks, which are subject to a reasonably low duty inas- much as they are classed as one-day time- pieces. One-day clocks, it seems, have to bear only a third of the duty imposed on timepieces that run a week on a single winding. This American company, in its desire to give its customers good measure, has in re- cent years made its alarm clocks with an extra-long mainspring that causes the mechanism to go more than thirty hours on a stretch, and this generosity was the cause of the trouble, which, the factory represen- tative believes, was instigated by a com- peting German firm. One day the American representative was called on by a government official, who told him he would have to submit samples of the alarm clocks for government inspec- tion. This was done, and a few days later the American received notice to report at the official's office. Arriving there he found his clocks lined up in a row, each one tagged to show how long it had run on a single winding. From the standpoint of efficiency the tests were all in his favor, for the records showed that none had run less than thirty, and some as long as thirty-six hours. This very efficiency, however, brought up com- plications. “‘It grieves me to inform you, sefior,” the official said, ‘‘that you appear to have been importing your clocks into the country under a false declaration. Under the law we recognize only two classes, those which run one day and those which run a week; plainly, yours cannot be classed as one-day time- pieces, because they run much longer than that. It will be necessary for you to pay the higher duty which is levied on eight- day timepieces,” That was bad enough, but there was still more, Under Spanish law the American company would have to pay the higher rate of duty on all the alarm clocks it had brought into the country for several years back, as well as a fine for the apparently false decla- ration. Fortunately the American represent- ative was on friendly terms with certain influential Spaniards who got the ruling changed; but without this influence his company would have had to pay an amount far more than it had ever made in all its Spanish operations. Legal Complications Another American firm ran into a situa- tion in Portugal which turned out less for- tunately. This firm, which manufactures small tools, sold, a year and a half ago, through its native agent in Portugal, mer- chandise amounting to a good many thou- sand dollars. There were some unavoidable delays at the factory and other delays of transportation, so the merchandise arrived in Lisbon several months after the orders had been given, during which time the rate of exchange had gone down sharply. Most of the dealers who had ordered the tools re- fused to accept them, using the argument that under the circumstances they could not afford to buy in American dollars and sell in depreciated Portuguese currency. There was a good deal of correspondence between the Lisbon agent and the Amer- ican factory, the matter dragging on for the better part of a year, a at last the factory directed its American representative in Paris to go to Portugal and see what might be done by personal contact. This man did as he was told. Arriving in Lisbon he hunted up the Portuguese agent through whom the merchandise had been sold, and explained that his company could not allow the matter to drag on longer. The company had paid the Portuguese import duties, amounting to 50 per cent of the value of the goods, besides transportation charges; these expenditures together with the value of the goods ran into a sum that the company could not afford to be out of indefinitely. If nothing else could be done July 7, 1923 the company would like to have the whole shipment sent back to America. The Lisbon agent was inclined to be in- different. He had, he said, gone to consid- erable expense in securing the orders, and it was not his fault that the exchange had gone down to such an extent that the deal- ers would not accept their purchases. The boxes of merchandise were lying in railroad warehouses in the various towns where they had been shipped throughout the country, and it would be something of a job to bring them all back to Lisbon. He finally said he would do this, however, for a fee of a thousand dollars. The American agreed to pay this amount, and after waiting a couple of weeks the boxes of goods were finally assembled and ready to be shipped back to America. Then one morning the Portuguese agent turned up with a discouraging report. “T regret to inform you,” he said, “that it will be necessary to pay an additional duty before you can ship the merchandise out of the country. The government de- mands 50 per cent on the value of the goods.” The American demanded to know why his company should have to pay to take its property out of the country when it had already paid to bring it in. “Because,” answered the agent, “the merchandise has now been in the country for a year, and under Portuguese law it is nationalized. The customs officers will not release it until this extra duty is paid.”’ The Customer in Genoa This situation left the American factory high and dry so far as any profit on the transaction was concerned. It had paid 50 per cent to get the merchandise into the country; to pay another 50 per cent meant the total value of the shipment, besides the original selling expense, the freight across the Atlantic and the thousand dollars for the agent’s trouble. The American told the agent to try to sell the stuff for what it would bring, and went back to Paris. This discouraging situation might have been avoided if the American firm had studied Portuguese customs regulations, which state that goods left in the country for a year or more become nationalized and are liable to export charges. Export- ing is no more hazardous than any other business if the rules are observed. It is a matter of record that credit losses on oem n business average no higher than in strict] American operations, yet men connected with export trade have told me that many firms hold back from overseas business through a feeling that it must be a risky matter. Sometimes, even, the firm already in the overseas trade has a squeam- ish attitude toward its foreign accounts not warranted by the circumstances. A promi- nent New York export manager who handles the foreign business of a large manufacturing firm told me a story in illustration of this attitude. “My firm has a customer in Genoa, Italy,” he said, “who is in the electrical business and who has for the past couple of years been sending us orders for a special socket we manufacture. No one in our organization has ever seen this customer, but originally when he wrote to get our catalogue and prices he furnished very sat- isfactory references as to his standing and responsibility, all of which we had verified through the Bureau of Foreign and Do- mestic Commerce, in Washington. This correspondence resulted in a fair-sized order, which was paid for promptly when due, as were all succeeding orders. “One day, however, during this spring my house received a letter from this man in regard to a shipment we had made him; he had, it seems, ordered a lot of our sockets which had been billed at our regular credit terms of ninety days; the bill was about to fall due and he wrote to ask that we extend = another month. His request was ased on the fact that there had been a delay on the building job for which the sockets were wanted, resulting in a similar delay in his getting paid for them; and he asked us to cable the Genoa bank to hold up presentation of draft for thirty days. “From every commercial standpoint the Italian’s request was reasonable enough, but my firm’s credit executive was consider- ably worried over it. He came into my (Continued on Page 34) eT ae = en we nae

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Continued from Page 32) room to show me the letter and asked me what | thought ought to be done I said if it were left to me I should ring for a mes- senger and cable the Genoa bank to do precisely what the man asked. ‘But look here,’ the credit executive came back at me, ‘this may be some kind of scheme to get out of paying the bill. That man has got our goods and he is four thousand miles away from here. No one in our organization has ever so much as seen him. It seems mighty funny that a fellow who has always paid his bills on time be- fore should suddenly pop up with a request that we extend our regular terms. It looks fishy to me!’ ‘‘ All right,’ I answered; ‘maybe your fears are well founded, but let’s look at the facts before we get heated up over it. In the first place, we investigated him thor- oughly before we started dealing with him; if | remember correctly we had a letter from the Genoa bank stating that he was well regarded in local business circles, that his business had been established more than twenty years on one of the principal streets of the city, and that he was considered good for all obligations. This information was corroborated by an international credit bureau and by agents of our own Govern- ment. If some fellow from El Paso, let us say, should come in here with recommenda- tions like that you'd be willing to sell him all he wanted, wouldn't you, and be tickled to death to do it?’”’ A Policy That Paid “The credit executive allowed that he would feel perfectly at ease in the case of an Fl Paso business man with such references, but E! Paso was in the United States and Genoa was in Italy, which made a lot of difference “* Vos,’ I said, ‘Genoa is in Italy; but I understand the credit of individuals is based somewhat on the resources of the field they de business in. Now I don’t know this fellow over there who owes us this money, but I have been in his town. It has a quarter of a million population, with one of the best harbors in Europe, and ite back country is tilled closer than any- thing you ever saw, with a lot of manufac- turing towns scattered about. Genoa itself couldn't be very well wiped out by a big fire, because so far as I know there isn’t a wooden building in the whole place. **So much for this fellow’s background, and now about the human slant, which I believe also goes into credit calculations. If he has been in business twenty years it is a pretty safe bet his enterprise is on a fairly sound basis, because those Europeans don't take chances as we do. They know they have got just one chance to make good; there is no such thing over there as a man’s making a fizzle and then getting on his feet again. This fellow doesn’t want a lawsuit on his hands any more than the man in El Paso would; even less, probably, because the consequences would be a great deal more serious for him,’ ‘The credit executive seemed still to have a lingering suspicion of any foreigner who would ask for an extension of credit terms, and so I suddenly shot this at him: “*How many times in the course of a month,’ I said, ‘do customers of the house here in the States write in and ask for short extensions?’ “He answered that there were a good many. “*And a lot of others,’ I went on, ‘take extra time on their bills without even both- ering to ask permission!’ “| knew I was on a subject that is a sore matter with credit executives everywhere, so I didn’t give him time for a come-back, but went on this way: ‘When a customer here in the States who has always paid his bills asks for a little extra time you always grant it to him, and the chances are you write him a nice letter also, saying the house is glad to extend courtesies to its good clients. Even when some customer takes extra time without asking for it, you don’t go after him ham mer and tongs, but you slip him a nice courteous note saying he has probably over- looked the account and you trust he will attend to it at his earliest convenience. “*Now suppose we look at this fellow over in Genoa. Pretend for a minute that Genoa is down in Texas or out on the Pa- cific Coast somewhere, and visualize him as just an ordinary business man who is plug- ging away at his proposition with every in- centive to pay his bills and with a past THE SATURDAY record that is all right. Probably the new high-school building, or whatever it was he wanted our sockets for, is delayed for some reason, and just like any other business man he finds it hard to pay us until he gets his own money in. We need his future trade, and the way to get it is to show him the same courtesies we would show anyone else. Why don’t you send a cable saying his re- quest is granted? If I were doing it I would pay an extra fifty cents and add a couple of pleasant words to the message. I’m bet- ting it would be a good investment in the long run!’”’ The credit manager accepted the sug- gestion and did send the cable according to the ideas of the export manager, with the result that the bill was paid at the end of the thirty days. Later a letter came from the Genoa man expressing his profound thanks for the courtesy of his American friends and suggesting that the firm send its catalogue to another house, in Milan, which would, he felt sure, be glad to purchase from so liberal a concern. Other export managers have expressed the same ideas as the man above quoted on the subject of the comparative safety of doing business in foreign countries. One man who has had wide foreign experience besides having formerly been United States sales manager for a great manufacturing firm, said the following, which, as it con- tains statements that may be startling to = people, I am particular to quote pre- aS he United States needs foreign busi- ness more than it ever did before, because during the past few years our manufac- turing facilities have been geared up to such a point that when we run at full capacity we accumulate more stuff than the country can possibly buy, and then there is a slump when the factories have to shut up shop and people walk around out of work until the accumulated surplus has been used up. There is a place somewhere in the world for every sort of article we make. A lot of manu- facturers would like to sell abroad, but the foreign field seems a mysterious thing, the main bugaboo of which is the risk of send- ing valuable merchandise to far-off places on credit.” Extravagant Competition “The fact is, we are trying to sell too many things right here in the United States. Competition is so keen in many lines that it leads to the most extravagant methods. Take, for instance, the old brewery busi- ness. The factor that more than anything else put the beer industry out of business was there were entirely too many breweries. In most localities half a dozen were tryin? to do business where there was a normal sale for the output of two or three, the con- sequence being that they had constantly to set up new retailers in business. Often as not these men had no capital of their own, the brewery installing the fixtures and pay- ing the license merely to get an outlet for its product. Under such circumstances a lot of things were done that had no business to be done, and the whole industry suffered. “Exactly the same thing is henoostan today in some manufacturing trades that went on in the brewery business.” In one of the upstate New York towns there is a concern manufacturing builders’ hardware which has built up a considerable export business during the past few years, the origin of which came in a somewhat un- usual way. The concern has always main- tained a New York ™ ffice, and some years ago, a vacanc’ urring there, a young man from the ° Vv was se t down to take charge of the N: York City busi- ness. From the first, this young office man- ager was ambitious to try his hand at exporting, but for a long time could not convince his principals at the factory that foreign business might be profitable. Cae day, however, he happened to meet a broker on lower Broadway who had a re- quest for bids on a large quantity of build- ers’ hardware to be used on a big college building that was to be put up in Peru, South America, and he told the broker he would like a chance to put in a bid. His factory heads, he figured, would not object to his landing an order of the sort, and if it turned out well they might let him try for more export business. When he came to look at the specifica- tions for the college building in Peru he almost gave up his desire for leectan trade. Bids were asked for certain numbers of locks, hinges, bolts, and the like, but the drawings that accompanied the request EVENING POST were of so sketchy a character as to give little idea of what was actually needed. There was a picture of a building with openings for doors and windows, but noth- ing to show which were the doors and which were windows; and no information as to whether doors were to swing in or out, or how the windows were to work. Such in- formation as accompanied the drawings was written in Spanish, but a Spanish so mixed up with local Indian idioms that no interpreter in New York would guarantee a translation. About the only satisfyirg part of the whole matter was the fact that the Peruvian consul in New York guaran- teed that cash money would be waiting for the firm with the lowest bid. The hardware mz anager hunted up a Spaniard of his acquaintance who was in the contracting business, to ask informa- tion thet might help in making a bid on the materia.s wanted, but without results. The Spaniard was from Cuba and could not make out what the drawings meant or what the written instructions precisely were. He did, however, have a mechanic in his em- ploy who, he said, had come originally from Peru and who might be able to help This man turned out to be a Peruvian mostly of Indian blood, and had served his apprenticeship in that country; he was not much of a scholar, but when the Peruvian- Indian text wes read to him he could make out what it meant, and the drawings were what he had been accustomed to work from in the old days when on building jobs. With the assistance of this mechanic the hardware manager was able to learn which of the openings in the drawing meant doors and which windows, and how the hinges and other devices were intended to work. There was one other matter that was puz- zling, it being the fact that the specifica- tions contained no information as to the finish desired on the hardware. The hard- ware manager asked his mechanic friend how Peruvian people ordinarily liked their public buildings fitted out, and the answer was that the taste in that country was for fittings muc *h shiny. Having thus attained a practical if some- what sketchy education in Peruvian archi- tecture the hardware manager prepared to make up a line of samples to go with his bid on the job. Making a trip to his factory he selected a line of articles that he believed would be acceptable, and had everything finished as shiny as possible, the crowning piece being a door plate of polished nickel with a very shiny brass knob. From the Peruvian mechanic he had learned that locks with master keys were unknown in that country, and so he submitted a sample lock which, he explained in his bid, had its ownindividual key, but could also be opened by a master key that would open all the other locks in the building. Finally getting his samples ready he shipped them to Peru along with his prices, these being based on the actual cost of production plus the mar- gin of profit that his firm regularly put on its goods in its domestic operations. Getting a Hearing In a couple of months he received official notice that his bid had been accepted, which was natural inasmuch as his figures were ten thousand dollars less than those of any other bidder. It seems that the South American capitalists had asked for bids on the materials not only from manufacturers in this country but also in England and France, and had sent the same crude draw- ings in all cases as a basis for the bids. All the bidders with the exception of the New York man had looked the drawings over, evidently decided they were too vague to base an intelligent estimate on, and then submitted bids that were sure to be high enough to cover any eventualities. Also, the New York man was the only one who had taken the trouble te fix up special sam- a to fit the taste of his customers. Per- iaps the others had not been fortunate enough to locate South American Indian carpenters, and perhaps they had not tried; but anyhow they were not willing to take chances by quoting close prices on so vague a basis. Thus the hardware manager had his ex- port order and there was a deposit in a New York bank to guarantee that the South Americans were ready to carry out their part of the contract, but his troubles were not over. His firm had been mildly in- terested in his efforts to land a foreign contract, but the factory was busy with do- mestic orders, and when he demanded that an entire room be devoted to the Peruvian July 7, 1925 order there was considerable dissension. The factory superintendent was particu- larly strong in opposition. Foreign orders were all right, he allowed, but they had no business to upset the ordinary routine of the place; if foreigners couldn’t use the regular kind of stuff that was used in the good old U.S. A., then they ought to make it themselves and not bother other people about it. Even the president of the firm was luke- warm when he found the material for the Peruvian order required so much special treatment, and expressed his opinion that it would be an unprofitable venture, even though the price charged for it covered all the unusual operations. The hardware manager met this attitude with a practical argument. “T know,” he said, “that getting out this stuff is going to cut into our regular routine considerably, But you know every year during the dull season we have to lay off part of our help, and even looking at it purely from an efficiency standpoint that is a bad business, because some of our best people drift away from us, and we are con- tinually having to break in new ones, which costs money. If we can work up a little for- eign trade, even as much as 5 per cent of our total, it will go a long way toward taking up this slack. Anyhow, this order has got to go through, because we have signed up for it and we are liable for damages if we don’t carry out our part of the contract.” The Power of Imagination There was nothing to do but let him have his way, and a room in the factory was set aside for the work of finishing the material to suit Peruvian tastes, bronzing hinges, nickel-plating door plates that ordinarily were left plain brass, and buffing doorknobs to mirror brilliancy. Even then it was not clear sailing for the hardware manager, be- cause the factory help did not much care for the unusual work, and the job dragged on until after the time it had been promised and the consul in New York began to threaten to cancel the order if it were not hurried up. The hardware manager made another hurried trip to the factory with the idea of speeding things, and on the way an idea occurred to him. He bought a large picture of a South American scene, show- ing a rocky wind-swept mountain with a quaint city nestling at its foot, and this he hung in the factory room where the special! work was going on. He got the workmen together and made a little speech. “I want to give you folks an idea,” he said, “‘of where this stuff is going to be used. Perhaps you will never go to Peru yourselves, but every piece of this hardware you are working on in this room is going there. Isn't it something to feel that these things you are turning out will be loaded on a steamer in New York, carried all tne way down the Atlantic Ocean, through the canal, out into the Pacific, and at last be used in a building on the top of that moun- tain you see in the picture? You are help- ing to make a building down there that you will always be interested in because you helped to build it!” The picture that the hardware manager had hung on the wall happened to portray a scene in Chile instead of Peru, but it an swered the purpose in giving the factory people a sense of romance in their work that helped to speed up the job. The hardware was finished, shipped and paid for. Some months later the South American consul walked into the hardware manager’s New York office with the statement that his peo- ple were more than pleased with the atten- tion given their order and had commissioned him to purchase a gift for the hardware manager. The gift proved to be a watch fob, suitably engraved and of such gorgeous design that the hardware manager has never had the courage to wear it, but keeps it at home in its fancy velvet case to show admiring friends. There was, however, a more practical] re sult. Sore time later his factory received a letter from an important South American distributing firm stating that its attention had been called to the hardware used in the Peruvian college building; the hardware furnished showed such evident familiarity with the requirements of that country that the distributing firm would be glad to enter into negotiations for the handling of the product in its territory. This connection led to others, until now the New York State factory has a South American market that takes approximately 12 per cent of its output. I ER ge Rn eae . 5 E 4

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GOODS YEAR The right tire for your hauling ismade by Goodyear—Cords, Cushions and Solids with the All-Weather Tread, and smooth-surfaced Solids,also.Sold and serviced everywhere by Goodyear Truck Tire Service Station Dealers | a deep breath. structive | 1760, | the sole surviving ; descendant of the | original Dr. Jacob | Kerfbyle. | family records are | complete and ac- | Flamm informs me | shall begin with | Susannah, who | year 1654, and who | year 1670 to Cor- | nelius Vanderveer, THE SATURDAY “The first Kerfbyle in this city, Mrs. Hancey, was Jacob Kerfbyle, a doctor of physic and a graduate of Leyden, who es- | tablished himeelf in practice here in 1649. I have letters written to him at his residence on the Heeren Gracht, which is Broad Street now. He married Elsie Provoost, daughter of a tanner and shoemaker who was prominent in Dutch society. The union was blessed with sixteen children—Susan- nah, Barent, Philip, Coenraet, Judith, Abraham, Kilien, Parocolus, Frederick — -_”" “In a word,” said Mrs. Hancey, “he was the first father of his country. Yic died, I suppose?”’ nVhile still in the flower of health and strength, Mrs. Hancey. In 1678 he at- tended 2 rural ball in New Jersey and danced with the parson’s wife. He danced down eleven coup- les and fell dead on EVENING POST READY MONEY (Continued from Page 18) meet Mr. Flamm the several attorneys to whom I presen the matter were not hopeful. Mr. Flamm has advised me that the other attorneys were probably in the pay of the Metropolitan Title Insurance Company, which has insured all titles from Oloff Stevensen and which would naturally oppose my claim. “He gladly agreed to press my claim, under an arrangement whereby I was to meet his expenses. I convinced him that the later will is authentic. It was dis- covered in the year 1869, when the ancient residence on Broad Street was torn down. My father was not a man of business and did nothing to assert his rights. I took the matter up in 1912, when I retained an at- torhey to establish the will at law. This attorney led me to suppose that he could July 7,1923 “Oh, no!” he protested. of you, and I appreciate it; possible— quite,” “At 6 per cent,” she said sternly. “I’m talking business, "Deuce. You'll be doing me a By I'll expect 6 per cent on the money, and if you’re not ready with it in hand I’ll come ; wn on you like a thousand of brick. And, to make sure that you'll have it, you’ll have to agree to pay no more money to Mr. Flamm until I get mine back. What do you say? You’ll give me a note and I'll expect you to make me a present when you come into your fortune.’ a the matter is arranged on a business ——"’ he murmured hesitatingly. “Strictly business, and nothing but!” she said strongly. “T need every dollar I can lay my hands on, I’m saving up until I get the price to open a little fur “Tt is very kind but it is im- the floor without a word, a groan ora sigh. His excellent wife had preceded him by two months, and his children were in- consolable at being thus left alone in the world.” “* Alone’ is not exactly the word,” said Mrs. Hancey; “but I get what you mean.” “TI shall now trace the descent of the several chil- dren,’’ said Mr. Kerfbyle, drawing “You will find it an exceedingly interesting and in- narra- tive; for whereas no less than two hundred and sev- enteen individuals were of the family blood in the year I today am Our curate, and Mr. that they are com- petent at law. I was born in the was married in the a sea captain.” I ‘ shop down on Fifth Avenue. I can coin money there. I know the buying end, and I can get the credit; but I have to have a lump of cash to be- gin. Oh, I’m not making any gifts! I don’t need such an awful lot; I can . get the stock on consignment That’s where the money grows, Deuce — forty thousand dollars for a sable coat that costs the job- ber about twenty. Say, you'd do well down there, Deuce, handling the swell trade. You're wasted up here in Harlem. You’ve got the high-class retail manner. You know, Deuce, nine-tenths of the trick of making money is to work in the right place; it doesn’t pay to save on rent and location. It is like a farmer trying to work an old New England farm be- cause it is cheap, when he can go out to the wheat country and pay the price and make a living. We're working the wrong location up here, Deuce. What do you say? It’s all “Let us begin, Deuce,’’ inter- osed rs. lancey, “with the assumption that you are the last of the family. Now what difference does that make?” “That is the very pint of the story,” said Mr. Kerfbyle. “i «ctor Jacob Kerf- byle left a last will an:’ estament, made in 1670, whereby he left his entire estate to a brother in Holland. This brother, whose name was Oloff Stevensen Kerfbyle, came here from Holland and took possession of the estate, and sold it off and disap- peared. Through his conveyances the pres- ent holders of the property trace their titles. But, Mrs. Hancey, it a since been discovered that Dr. Jacob Kerfbyle left a later will, and by that later will he devised and bequeathed his entire estate to his surviving children, share and share alike. When I have established that later will at law, the titles running through Oloff Ste- vensen will be upset and I shall come into the estate of the first Jacob Kerfbyle.” He spread his hands and beamed at her. She opened her mouth. “You mean, Deuce,”’ she breathed, “that you're claiming under a will that was made over two hundred and fifty years ago?” “My attorneys have informed me,” he said calmly, “that the elapsed time makes no difference in my rights in legal theory. The only question is a matter of proof. I confess that until I had the good fortune to He Moved the Bricks About, Picking Them Up and Poising Them Speculatively obtain a settlement from the title company; but he finally abandoned the attempt and told me that there was no hope. I sought other counsel, and finally secured Mr. Flamm, who has prosecuted the affair with the reatest diligence for several years. ft has cost me considerable money,” said Mr. Kerfbyle, pouting his lips; “but the property at stake was well worth it. Dr. Jacob Kerfbyle owned a small country estate of eighteen acres on the Bowery. The site comprises the several blocks immedi- ately south of Fourteenth Street and west of the present Third Avenue. The value of that property today is between nine and ten million dollars. That property belongs to me. Mr, Flamm says that my title is clear, and that it is merely a question of raising the sums to pay legal expenses. ‘Yes, I guess that is the only question that Mr. Flamm is interested in,” nodded Mrs. Hancey. “I’m no lawyer, Deuce, but it looks to me as though you've taken a large order. How much have you paid this Flamm?’ “Hardly over a thousand or two, all told. I could not raise more, having ex- pended a a great deal of money before meet- ing him.” €. Listen, Deuce,” she said. “I’ve gota few dollars lying in the bank at 2 per cent. Sup- posing I lena you a hundred dollars-——”’ right about the hundred at 6 per cent, isn’t it?” **T will take it,’”’ he said in a low voice, staring at the wall of the darkening cham- ber. “I do not know what else I can do. But you shail be repaid, Mrs. Hancey. You shall be under no necessity of opening a shop on lower Fifth Avenue when I come into the Kerfbyle estate.” ‘That's fine of you, Deuce,”’ she said, getting out her check book. “I don’t ob- ject to gifts a bit.” “Tt will not be a gift, Mrs. Hancey,” he said. “I have thought at times that you understood how I felt toward you. There is something that I cannot say to you now, in honor.” “Why not?” she said, bending over her writing and speaking in a tone that was light but evocative. ‘‘ Money is not every- thing, Deuce. You mean that you would ask me to marry you if you were rich?” He was startled into silence—surprised, as so many men before him had been sur- prised by the almost unsentimental open- eyedness of the female approach. Marriage is women’s business. In contemplating the relation, they are not blinded by the fog of sensuous excitement, though they dearly enjoy it. They are not ordinarily so frank, fearing to startle. “Tf I were not such a poor devil, he said breathlessly, “would you (Continued on Page 38 Alice,”

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38 Watch This Column for “Pictures Worth Seeing” HOOT GIBSON is what the cow punchers would call “a ridin’ fool.” What he can’t do on a broncho isn't worth discussing. | want you to know him. He is young and tal- ented and all of his pictures are full of the wholesome excitement and humor of the West. Please see his picture Shootin’ for Love.’’ Not much of a title, but it’s expressive and the picture will make you jump. * * & By the way, have you noticed that all Uni- versal Pictures are wholesome, very much alive, splendidly cast? Have you noticed that we choose our stories from the best authors? For example, here's a list of Pictures Worth Seeing,” every one by an author you know: ‘‘ The Storm,’’ ‘‘ The Flirt,"’ ‘‘Human Hearts,’’ ‘‘ Driven,’’ ** The Abysmal Brute’’ with REGINALD DENNY; ‘Bavu,’’ ‘‘ Trifling \With Honor,’’ ‘' The Leather Pushera’’— and then ‘Hf. A. Snow's Hunting Big Game in Africa with Gun and Camera."’ * * * The name Universal on pictures has come to be regarded as a guarantee of a good evening's entertainment. If Universals are not shown at your favorite theatre, you are certainly missing many of the best pictures of the year. !s your theatre going to show **The Shock,’’ with LON CHANEY and VIRGINIA VALLI--will it show ‘‘ The Gumps,’’ not the drawings, but regular actors and everything? Will it show ** Merry Go Round"’? Don't you think you had better speak to the Manager > + * * Allthe best theatres should show Universal Pictures because you can't see all that is best in pictures unless you see Universals. You ought to help bring them to your neighborhood for your own sake. ( arl Laemmle P J ‘President UNIVERSAL PICTURES “The pleasure is all yours” 1600 Broadway, New York City THE SATURDAY (Continued from Page 36) “Must you wait until you are better off, Deuce?” “T must.” “But you are such a poor devil, Deuce,” she said, refusing an answer to his hypo- thetical question. Her hand rested momen- tarily on his sleeve as she passed him on her way to the door. wi “ CAN make it two hundred and fifty, Mrs. Hancey,” said Mr. Kidd. “That is positively the best.” “With a contract?” “When does it begin?” “On the first.” “Tt will have to do for the time being,” accepted Mrs. Hancey, rising. ‘Thank you, Mr. Kidd.” She returned to her duties. The dispo- sition of her time was her own. In the afternoon she left the store and took the Subway to lower Manhattan, and so to a small and dingy office building on Exchange Place. The single rattletrap elevator lifted her to the sixth floor. She walked along a gaslighted hall, scanning the office doors, until she came to that one which bore the black-lettered legend, Abraham P. Flamm, Counselor at Law. She pushed this one open. “Is the lawyer in?” she asked the stenog- rapher, who was typing furiously. “What do you waat to see him about?” called the young lady above the clatter and bang ol ‘one machine. “About the Kerfbyle case.” “What about the Kerfbyle case?” “T might possibly be interested in buy- ing up the claim,” said Mrs. Hancey after vainly rebuking the young lady with an unfriendly stare. “‘He’s in,” said the typist, jumping up. “You said buying, didn’t you?” She left her crowded al. sve and opened a door in a glass partition. The office had been originally a single small room, and had been converted into sanctum and dark antechamber. “A lady to see you about buying something,”’ called the stenographer. “You can go in,” she said, returning to her piled work. | The counselor nodded to her and indi- | cated a chair, without breaking the thread of the conversation which he was conduct- ing on one of his two desk telephones. He had evidently the valuable knack of doing several things at once. While he talked, his black eyes studied Mrs. Hancey. She was impressed by his evident ability to study her while losing nothing from his talk. The black eyes were large; soft and velvety when the counselor’s voice grew persuasive, then hard and insolent again. They were set in a large and half-bald head, and ac- companied by thick red lips, a bulbous nose and full and sallow cheeks. The head was too large for the counselor’s body, which was short and small-boned, smartly clothed. His delicate and black-haired hand sawed | the air beside the telephone. | “The rents are ten thousand dollars,”’ he said. He had an accent that defied isola- tion. It escaped Mrs. Hancey when she | strove to catch it. It was the accent of an educated foreigner, or perhaps of a native- | born New Yorker whose parents spoke no English. “Well, about ten thousand dollars. The expenses? Wait a minute—here they are. Interest, three thousand; taxes, two thou- | sand ap tay coal, nine hundred, cats yhat’s that? About seventy-five, yes. . . . Get mean offer.” “T didn’t get your name, madam,” he said, pushing away the telephone on its | steel arm. “Harmon,” said Mrs. Hancey. “Miss | Harmon.” He nodded. “I ara interested | in ade | the Ducey Kerfbyle claim,” she ps f t least, I would like to ask you aan “How did you hear of it?” | “I don’t care to say, at present. But I am quite familiar with it. I know that it is founded on the will of Dr. Jacob Kerfbyle, and concerns the property south of East Fourteenth Street which used to be the Kerfbyle farm.” “Whom do you represent, Miss Har- mon?” “* Myself,” she said, smiling. His black eyes stared at her unwinkingly, their searching gaze alternating from one of her eyes to the viher. “You want to buy the claim?” | “Tf it could be arranged as I would have it, I might be interested.” EVENING POST “Tt can be arranged, no doubt,” he said, and his eyes were velvety. “Everything can be had at a price.” “That is what I wished to talk to you about. I am not in a position to put up a large sum of money, and I thougnt that possibly I could buy it on time.” “You mean—an annuity? How much are ps prepared to pa “T could do a hundred a month.” “Oh, nonsense!’ he said contemptuously. “The claim involves a matter of ten million dollars! Let’s come down to business. What’s your price?” “One hundred a month,” she said flatly. “Tf the claim can’t be bought on that basis, I'll lose no time talking about it. I may as well tell you that I’ve spoken to another lawyer about it, and he tells me that the claim is entirely hopeless and isn’t worth a dollar.” “What then do you want it for, Miss Harmon?” “TI do not care to say,” she said. “Isa hundred a month satisfactory?” “You mean a hundred a month during Mr. Kerfbyle’s life?” “That might be acceptable.” He bowed his heavy head in thought. “‘ Are you fully empowered to negotiate, Miss Harmon?’ “T am negotiating—or, rather, I’m tell- ing you the very best that I will do. You may take it or leave it.” “If I advise Mr. Kerfbyle to take the annuity, the money will be paid into this office?” “No,” she said. “It must be paid direct to Mr. Kerfbyle. But I must not appear in the matter. How can we arrange that?”’ “It might be paid through a trust com- pany,” he suggested. “You could make your private arrangement with the com- any, so that you would not appear, and r. Kerfbyle could take the trust com- a agreement.” “Would I have to give the trust company security?” “You might make the arrangement con- tingent in some way. What are you going to do with the claim?” “Nothing, Mr. Flamm.” A slow smile spread over his large face. “Why be so mysterious, Miss Harmon?” he coaxed. “I know whom you represent and what you want to buy the claim for. You say that this claim is worthless, and that you don’t propose to press it; and still you're willing to pay one hundred dollars a month for it during Mr. Kerfbyle’s nat- ural life. Come, Miss Harmon, let us be frank and aboveboard.” “TI do not know what you are hinting at, Mr. Flamrr,”’ she said impatiently. ‘“‘What do you mean by making the arrangement contingent?” “IT mean that the claim could be trans- ferred to the trustee, subject to reverting to Mr. Kerfbyle if you failed to make the monthly payments. I offer this merely as a first suggestion. It would be an arrange- ment that gave you no advantage what- ever, except that it would halt any suit on the claim by Mr. Kerfbyle. That, of course, cannot be your objective. If you wished to rid yourself of the annuity, you might pro- vide to liquidate it at any time upon pay- ment of a lump sum.” “You ay that some plan can be worked out, and that is enough at present,” she said, rising. ‘it is understood that I am not to appear in the matter. Suppose, then, that you communicate with Mr. Kerfbyle and secure his assent to some such arrange- ment.” “Shall I write you at your office?” “No; you may write me at this address. Good day, Mr. Flamm.” She leit the office. For several minutes after she left him Mr. Flamm sat in thought. Then he nodded satisfiedly and arose and left the suite and walked down the gas- lighted hall. He entered an office upon whose door was written, Simeon Ellerbach, Rea] Estate. Mr. Ellerbach was at his desk. His desk was beside a black window. A new build- ing had been erected on the adjoining land and its masonry was flush with the opening. But Mr. Ellerbach, with his skinny and yellow hands ¢lasped behind his bald head, was staring absorbedly through the glass pane as though he saw through the curtain of brick and cement and steel which was there, three feet from his Roman nose. “Ek?” He lea in his chair and made an involuntary clutch at the papers upon his desk. “‘ My gracious, Flamm, you gave me a turn! Come in, my dear fellow, come in. I’m glad to see you.” July 7,1925 “Do you remember my telling you about the Kerfbyle claim?” asked Mr. Flamm, seating himself before the desk. “Yes, yes,” muttered Mr. Ellerbach, busying himself with turning papers over on their faces as fast as Mr. Flamm’s casual glance fell upon them. “I do, in- deed — yes. What did you say, Flamm?” “Two years ago,” said Mr. Flamm, “I was visited by a Mr. Kerfbyle, who had seen my advertisement of legal services in a newspaper. He was a crank who had a notion that he owned several square blocks of Manhattan real estate near Fourteenth Street. He brought a will with him.” “Ah, yes, I do recall something of it now. “‘He had also a mass of material to prove his descent from the testator. You remem- ber that I consulted you upon the matter, having the greatest confidence in your knowledge of real-estate law. I have al- ways said, Ellerbach, that you were the best real-estate lawyer in the city, outside the title companies.” “That is very kind of you, my boy,” bowed Mr. Ellerbach; ‘“‘very flattering. Well, perhaps I did have some inkling of the law before the lamentable injustice of cisbarring me was wrought by our high- minded and learned Appellate Division. I believe I advised you that this Kerfbyle claim was worthless, did I not?” “You did,” said Mr. Flamm. ‘But now I have the best of reasons for believing that the board of counsel of the Metropolitan Title Insurance Company disagrees with you.” “Ts it possible? Do you not refer to the claim based on that will made some two hundred or three hundred years ago?” “Exactly.” “T have the profoundest respect for that estimable board,” said Ellerbach, sniffing. “We have, indeed, differed at times upon the cash values of certain clouds upon title which I have called to their attention; but we have not disagreed hitherto upon ques- tions of law. On such abstract questions we have been in the most gratifying har- mony.” He opened his mouth and rubbed -his bony chin. “As an attorney, Mr. Flamm,” he said, “you do not need my instruction that our law provides that a will must be offered for probate within four years of the death of the testator if innocent purchasers are to be ousted. Nor 2eed you call my attention to the provision that the four-year period does not apply where one who took in de- fault of the will had willfully concealed it; there is no proof possible that that excep- tion applies here. The titles of the owners of today are derived through a chain ad- verse to this alleged will; but it is impos- sible to prove that will. On what peg can you hang a plausible case? Who will prove the attestation and publication? Who will prove the handwriting of a man dead for two hundred years? I grant you again that claims as unsubstantiated are urged and litigated ever anew in our New York courts. There is litigation pending now on behalf of excellent people who are asserting owner- ship under royal grant of all Manhattan Island north of One Hundred and Twenty- fifth Street. There was the Dessauer claim, litigated for one hundred years, until the family was beggared, and settled only six months ago.”’ “The Metropolitan Title Insurance Com- pany bought up the Dessauer claim.” Ellerbach shrugged his shoulders, with an inarticulate grunt. “That was an affair of another complex- ion, my dear fellow. The heir had some case to build on. Do not be deluded. This Kerfbyle claim is, as the poet so aptly said, ‘as unsubstantial as the fabric of a dream.’ I do not know where you got the quaint ne:ion that the Metropolitan Title Insur- ance Company considers it valuable or dangerous; but I humbly assure you that that company’s board of counsel is not guilty of any such aberration of the intel- ect.” “Twenty minutes ago,” said Flamm, “I was visited in my office by a lady, a smart- looking business woman, who offered to buy the Kerfbyle claim. She offered to pay for it by giving to Mr. Kerfbyle an annuity of one hundred dollars a month during his natural life. She told me that she did not wish to press the claim, but merely to hold it in abeyance, preventing further suit upon it until it should expire with Mr. Kerfbyle. Any actuary can calculate the cash value Continued on Page 41)

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, 28°X 6 PULLEY T T CRUSHED | CLAY BIN see eee Blueprint sketch of the Goodyear Belted pet machine drives in the 100% Goodyear equipped plant of Camp Brothers Company, Mogadore, Ohio, with insert gholagvenk of the plant They wanted the best of equipment inevery respect, when Camp Brothers Company began the manufacture of brick, two years ago, at Mogadore, Ohio. Mr. H. H. Camp, President and Gen- eral Manager, had been making good brick for 15 years, and in the course of his experience he had come to know that for all conveying and transmission duty in a brick plant, good belts are required. Therefore, he decided to use Goodyear Belts. So the G. T. M.— Goodyear Technical Man—was asked what he would recommend. And in the painstaking, expert way re quired by the Goodyear method of Plant Analysis he studied minutely the dimensions and duty and prospective working ’ conditions of every conveyor and drive. His recommendations covered an installation of 20 Goodyear Transmission Belts, in sizes ranging from 4-inch, 5-ply, to 18-inch, 8-ply; 10 Goodyear Conveyor Belts, ranging from |2 to 24 inches, and one Goodyear Bucket Elevator Belt. H The brick machine drives, shown in the blueprint sketch above, were the subject of especially thoughtful study on the part of the G. T. M.; for, as every brick maker knows, the brick machine drive makes heavy demands on the belt. It requires a belt that will not slip and is subject to the minimum of stretch. It requires a belt that is powerful, too, for the brick machines force a heavy BELTS ‘ HOSE , THE SATURDAY EVENING POST MACHINE ROOM OF CAM! MFRS OF COMMON BUILD MOGADOR! G.T.M. SPECIFIED GOODYEAR’- BELTS Copyright 1925, by The Goodyear Tire & Rubber ( mixture of clay and water into the dies the G. x wearing and powerful Goodyear Belt For each of these drives, M. recommended an 18-inch friction-surfaced, long- ‘ eer ‘They have never been taken up,’’says Mr. Camp. “ They have never been out of service a single day. The entire equipment has given two years of uninterrupted, efficient, economical serv ice, and at the present time shows no apprec iable signs of wear We are roud of the lant, and like to show it to everyone Pp Pp It has produced more than 35,000,000 bricks so far, and is now operat interested in up to-date methods of brick manufacture. ing on the basis of 110,000 bricks a day. For this consistent and trouble-free operation we give their rightful share of the credit to our Goodyear Belts.”’ If youare building anew plant, or belting a particularly difficult drive, you may find it to your decided advantage to call in the ie lems of many industries | le will go over your working i onditions M. He knows belting, and he knows the operating prob with your Plant Superintendent, and make a reliable recom mendation Whatever Goodyear Mechanical Goods he may recommend foryou Transmissicen Be Its, ( onvey ing Belts, I lose, Valves and Packing you may be sure will be built to give you the maximum of trouble-free, long-wearing service at low cost. Goodyear Means Good Wear GOODS YEA PACKING VALVES ; 100% Original Equipment—and the G. T. M.

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38 Watch This Column for “Pictures Worth Seeing” HOOT GIBSON is what the cow punchers would call “a ridin’ fool.” What he can't do on a broncho isn't worth discussing. I want you to know him. He is young and tal- ented and all of his pictures are full of the wholesome excitement and humor of the West. Please see his picture “Shootin’ for Love.” Not much of a title, but it’s expressive and the picture will make you jump. * * & By the way, have you noticed that all Uni- versal Pictures are wholesome, very much alive, splendidly cast? Have you noticed that we choose our stories from the best authors? For example, here's a list of “Pictures Worth Seeing,” every one by an author you know: ‘‘ The Storm,’’ ‘‘ The Flirt,’’ *‘Haman Hearts,’’ ‘‘ Driven,’’ ‘The Abysmal Brute’’withREGINALD DENNY; ‘Bavu,’’ ‘‘ Trifling \With Honor,’’ ‘*‘ The Leather Pushers’’— and then “'H. A. Snow's Hunting Big Game in Africa with Gun and Camera.”’ * * * The name Universal on pictures has come to be regarded as a guarantee of a good evening's entertainment. If Universals are not shown at your faverite theatre, you are certainly missing many of the best pictures of the year. Is your theatre going to show **The Shock, ’’ with LON CHANEY and VIRGINIA VALLI- will it shew ‘‘ The Gumps,’’ not the drawings, but regular actors and everything? Will it show ** Merry Go Round’’? Don't you think you had better speak to the Manager? * * + | Allthe best theatres should show Universal Pictures because you can't see all that is | best in pictures unless you see Universals. You ought to help bring them to your | neighborhood for your own sake (arl Laemmle , ‘President UNIVERSAL PICTURES "The pieasure és all yours” 1600 Broadway, New York City | yes. THE SATURDAY (Continued from Page 36) “Must you wait until you are better off, Deuce?” “T must.” “But you are such a poor devil, Deuce,” she said, refusing an answer to his hypo- thetical question. Her hand rested momen- tarily on his sleeve as she passed him on her way to the door. wa “T CAN make it two hundred and fifty, Mrs. Hancey,” said Mr. Kidd. “That is positively the best.” “With a contract?” “No.” “When does it begin?” “On the first.” “Tt will have to do for the time being,” accepted Mrs. Hancey, rising. ‘Thank you, Mr. Kidd.” She returned to her duties. The dispo- sition of her time was her own, In the afternoon she left the store and took the Subway to lower Manhettan, and so to a small and dingy office building on Exchange Place. The single rattletrap elevator lifted her to the sixth floor. She walked along a gaslighted hall, scanning the office doors, until she came to that one which bore the | black-lettered legend, Abraham P. Flamm, Counselor at Law. She pushed this one open. “Ts the lawyer in?” she asked the stenog- rapher, who was typing furiously. “What do you want to see him about?” called the young lady above the clatter and bang od tae machine, “About the Ker/byle case.” “What about the Kerfbyle case?” “I might possibly be interested in buy- ing up the claim,” said Mrs. Hancey after vainly rebuking the young lady with an unfriendly stare. ‘“‘He’s in,” said the typist, jumping up. “You said buying, didn’t you?” She left her crowded alcove and opened a door in a glass partition. The office had been originally a single small room, and had been converted into sanctum and dark antechamber. ‘A lady to see you about buying something,’ called the stenographer. “You can go in,” she said, returning to her piled work. The counselor nodded to her and indi- cated a chair, without breaking the thread of the conversation which he was conduct- ing on one of his two desk telephones. He had evidently the valuable knack of uoing several things at once. While he talked, his black eyes studied Mrs. Hancey. She was impressed by his evident ability \o study her while losing nothing from his talk. The black eye: were large; soft and velvety when the counselor’s voice grew persuasive, then hard and insolent again. They were set in a large and half-bald head, and ar- | companied by thick red iips, a bulbous nose | and full and sallow cheeks. The head was too large for the counselor’s body, which | was short and small-boned, smart.y cloth: d. His delicate and black-haired hand sawed | the air beside the telephone. “The rents are ten thousand dollars,”’ he said. He had an accent that defied isola- tion. It escaped Mrs. Hancey when she strove to catch it. It was the accent of an | educated foreigner, or perhaps of a native- born New Yorker whose parents spoke no English. “Well, about ten thousand dollars. The expenses? Wait a minute—here they are. | Interest, three thousand; taxes, two thou- | sand aga cee coal, nine hundred, hat’s that? About seventy-five, . Get me an offer.” “T didn’t get your name, madam,” he said, pushing away the telephone on its steel arm. “Harmon,” said Mrs. Hancey. “ Miss Harmon.”” He nodded. ‘“! am interested in buying the Ducey Kerfbyle claim,” she =. wt least, I would like to ask you i pare ’ “How did you hear of it?” “T don’t care to say, at present. But I am quite familiar with it. I know that it is founded on the will of Dr. Jacob Kerfbyle, and concerns the property south of East Fourteenth Street which used to be the Kerfbyle farm.” “Whom do you represent, Miss Har- mon?” “‘ Myself,” she said, zmiling. His black eyes stared at her unwinkingly, their searching gaze alternating from one of her eyes to the other. “You want to buy the claim?” “If it could be arranged as I would have it, I might be interested.” EVENING POST “It can be arranged, no doubt,”’ he said, and his eyes weve velvety. “Everything can be had at a price.” “That is what I wished to talk to you about. I am not in a position to put up a iarge sum of money, and I thought that possibly I could buy it on time.” “You mean—an annuity? How much are you prepared to ji “T could do a hundred a month.” “Oh, nonsense!’’ he said conteraptuously. “The claim involves a matter of ten million dollars! Let’s come down tc business. What’s your price?”’ “One hundred a month,” she said flatly. “If the claim can’t be bought on that basis, I'll lose no tirne talking about it. I may as well tell you that I’ve spoken to another lawyer about it, and he tells me that the claim is entirely hopeless and isn’t worth a dollar.” “What then do you want it for, Miss Harmon?” “I do not care to say,”’ she said. hundred a month satisfactory?” “You mean a hundred a month during Mr. Kerfbyle’s life?”’ “That might be acceptable.” He bowed his heavy head in thought. “ Are you fully empowered to negotiate, Miss Harmon?” “I am negotiating—or, rather, I’m tell- ing you the very best that I will do. You may take it or leave it.” “If I advise Mr. Kerfbyle to take the annuity, the money will be paid into this office?” “No,” she said. ‘It must be paid direct to Mr. Kerfbyle. But I must not appear in the matter. How can we arrange that?”’ “It might be paid through a trust com- pany,” he suggested. ‘“‘You could make your private arrangement with the com- any, so that you would not appear, and r. Kerfbyle could take the trust com- pany’s agreement.” 53 Would I have to give the tr ust company security?” “You might make the arrangement con- tingent in some way. What are you going to do with the claim?” “Nothing, Mr. Flamm.” A slow smile spread over his large face. “Why be so mysterious, Miss Harmon?” he coaxed. “I know whom you represent and what you want to buy the claim for. You say that this claim is worthless, and that you don’t propose to press it; and still you’re willing to pay one hundred dollars & month for it during Mr. Kerfbyle’s nat- ural life. Come, Miss Harmon, let us be frank and aboveboard.” “T do not know what you are hinting at, Mr. Flamm,” she said impatiently. “What do you mean by making the arrangement contingent?” “T mean that the claim could be trans- ferred to the trustee, subject to reverting to Mr. Kerfbyle if you failed to make the monthly payments. I offer this merely as a first suggestion. It would be an arrange- ment that gave you nc advantage what- ever, except that it would halt any suit on the claim by Mr. Kerfbyle. That, of course, cannot be your objective. If you wished to rid yourself of the annuity, you might pro- vide to liquidate it at any time upon pay- ment of a lump sum.” “You say that some plan can be worked out, and that is enough at present,” she said, rising. “It is understood thet I am not to appear in the matter. Suppose, then, that you communicate with Mr. Kerfbyle and secure his assent to some such arrange- ment.” “Shall I write you at your office?” “No; you may write me at this address. Good day, Mr. Flamm.” She lelt the office. Kor several minutes after she left him Mr. Flamm sat in thought. Then he nodded satisfiedly and arose and left the suite and walked down the gas- hghted hall. He entered an office upon whose door was written, Simeon Ellerbach, Real Estate. Mr. Ellerbach was at his desk. His desk was beside a black window. A new build- ing had been erected on the adjoining land and its masonry was flush with the opening. But Mr. Ellerbach, with his skinny and yellow hands clasped behind his bald head, was staring absorbedly through the glass pane as though he saw through the curtain of brick and cement and steel which was there, three feet from his Roman nose. “Eh?” He lea in his chair and made an involuntary clutch at the papers upon his desk. “‘ My gracious, Flamm, you gave me a turn! Come in, my dear fellow, come in. I’m glad to see you.” “Isa July 7, 1925 “Do you remember my telling you about the Kerfbyle claim?’’ asked Mr. Flamm, seating himself before the desk. “Yes, yes,” muttered Mr. Ellerbach, busying himself with turning papers over on their faces as fast as Mr. Flamm’s casual glance fell upon them. “I do, in- yes. . . What did you say, Flamm?” “Two years ago,” said Mr. Flamm, “I was visited by a Mr. Kerfbyle, who had seen my advertisement of legal services in a newspaper. He was a crank who had a notion that he owned several square blocks of Manhattan real estate near Fourteenth Street. He brought a will with him.” “Ah, yes, I do recall something of it now.” “He had also a mass of material to prove his descent from the testator. You remem- ber that I consulted you upon the matter, having the greatest confidence in your knowledge of real-estate law. I have al- ways said, Ellerbach, that you were the best real-estate lawyer in the city, outside the title companies.” “That is very kind of you, my boy,” bowed Mr. Ellerbach; ‘‘very flattering. Well, perhaps I did have some inkling of the law before the lamentable injustice of disbarring me was wrought by our high- minded and learned Appellate Division. I believe I advised you that this Kerfbyle claim was worthless, did I not?’’ “You did,” said Mr. Flamm. “ But now I have the best of reasons for believing that the board of counsel of the Metropolitan Title Insurance Company disagrees with “Ts it possible? Do you not refer to the claim based on that will made some two hundred or three hundred years ago?” “Exactly.” “T have the profoundest respect for that estimable board,” said Ellerbach, sniffing. “We have, indeed, differed at times upon the cash values of certain clouds upon title which I have called to their attention; but we have not disagreed hitherto upon ques- tions of law. On such abstract questions we have been in the most gratifying har- mony.” He opened his mouth and rubbed -his bony chin. “As an attorney, Mr. Flamm,” he said, “you do not need my instruction that our law provides that a will must be offered for probate within four years of the death of the testator if innocent purchasers are to be ousted. Nor need you call my attention to the provision that the four-year period does not apply where one who took in de- fault of the will had willfully concealed it; there is no proof possible that that excep- tion applies here. The titles of the owners of today are derived threugh a chain ad- verse to this alleged will; but it is impos- sible to prove that will. On what peg can you hang a plausible case? Who will prove the attestation and publication? Who will prove the handwriting of a man dead for two hundred years? I grant you again that claims as unsubstantiated are urged and litigated ever anew in our New York courts. There is litigation pending now on behalf of excellent people who are asserting owner- ship under royal grant of all Manhattan Island north of One Hundred and Twenty- fifth Street. There was the Dessauer claim, litigated for one hundred years, until the family was beggared, and settled only six months ago.” “The Metropolitan Title Insurance Com- pany bought up the Dessauer claim.” Ellerbach shrugged his shoulders, with an inarticulate grunt. “That was an affair of another complex- ion, my dear fellow. The heir had some case to build on. Do not be deluded. This Kerfbyle claim is, as the poet so aptly said, ‘as unsubstantial as the fabric of a dream.’ I do not know where you got the quaint notion that the Metropolitan Title Insur- ance Company considers it valuable or dangerous; but I humbly assure you that that company’s board of counsel is not ov of any such aberration of the intel- ect.” “Twenty minutes ago,”’ said Flamm, ‘I was visited in my office by a lady, a smart- looking business woman, who offered to buy the Kerfbyle claim. She offered to pay for it by giving to Mr. Kerfbyle an annuity of one hundred dollars a month during his natural life. She told me that she did not wish to press the claim, but merely to hold it in abeyance, preventing further suit upon it until it should expire with Mr. Kerfbyle. Any actuary can calculate the cash value (Continued on Page 41)

Page 43

CRUSHED CLAY BIN , > ; a ‘ TT eS ee ee ee ae eal ear equipped Blueprint sketch of the Goodyear Belted brick machine drives in the 100% mors 9 y of the plant plant of Camp Brothers Compeny, coe ley Ohio, with insert photograp They wanted the best of equipment inevery respect, when Camp Brothers Company began the manufacture of brick, two years ago, at Mogadore, Ohio. Mr. H. H. Camp, President and Gen- eral Manager, had been making good brick for 15 years, and in the course of his experience he had come to know that for all conveying and transmission duty in a brick plant, good belts are required. Therefore, he decided to use Goodyear Belts. So the G. T. M.— Goodyear Technical Man—was asked what he would recommend. And in the painstaking, expert way re quired by the Goodyear method of Plant Analysis he studied minutely the dimensions and duty and prospective working if conditions of every conveyor and drive. His recommendations covered an installation of 20 Goodyear Transmission Belts, in sizes ranging from 4-inch, 5-ply, to 18-inch, 8-ply; 10 Goodyear Conveyor Belts, ranging from |2 to 24 inches, and one Goodyear Vv Bucket Elevator Belt. } The brick machine drives, shown in the bluepr int sketch above were the subject of especially thoughtful study on the part of the G. T. M.; for, as every brick maker knows, the brick machine drive makes heavy demands on the belt. It requires a belt that will not slip and is subject to the minimum of stretch. It requires a belt that is powerful, too, for the brick machines force a heavy BELTS . HOSE . THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 100% Original Equipment—and the G. T. M. Goodyear Means Good Wear Goop** + RRICK MACHIN# MACHINE MFRS OF COMMON BUILI G1.M. SPECIFIED GOODYEAR BELTS ROOM OF CAM! Copyright 1925, by The Goodyear Tire & Rubber ( In mixture of « lay and water into the dies. For each of these drives, the G. T wearing and powerful Goodyear Belt M. recommended an 18-inch friction-surfaced, long- “* They have never been taken up,’’says Mr. Camp. “‘ They have never been out of service a single day. The entire equipment has given two years of uninterrupted, efficient, economical sers ice, and at the present time shows no apprec iable signs of wear **We are proud of the plant, and like to show it to everyone It has produced more than 35,000,000 bricks so far, and is now operat interested in up-to-date methods of brick manufacture. ing on the basis of | 10,000 bricks a day. For this consistent and trouble-free operation we give their rightful share of the credit to our Goodyear Belts.” If youare building anew plant, o1 belting a parti ularly difficult drive, you may find it to your decided advantage to call in the G. T. M. He knows belting, and he knows the operating prob lems of many industries He will goover your werking conditions with your Plant Superintendent, and make a reliable recom Whatever Transmission Belts, Conveying Belts, Hose, mendation Goodyear Mechanical Goods he may recommendforyou Valves and Packing—you may be sure will be built to give you the maximum of trouble free long wearing service ar low cost ELA PACKING VALVES é'

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40 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Mothers - Lets be frank ak ww The Health Doctor f OU Mothers are Health Doctors of your families. We provide what is rated the world over as an invaluable aid to family health. So let us discuss freely and frankly this subject of dirt—of family cleanliness. Does your sturdy son constantly tousle hands, face and hair against jolly school chums who unfortunately may live in homes less clean than yours—where contagious sickness may exist? Do your children pet stray animals and touch hundreds of dirty, dangerous things—school and library books, fasci nating junk piles, seats in public places? Your husband too, is always touching car straps, door knobs in public places, stair rails, soiled money. Anything which many hands touch is almost certain to be covered with disease germs. What can you do about it? Train your husband and children to purify their skin—many times a day—with Lifebuoy—the soap that guards health. LAFEBLOY July 7, 19235 j A , lren are constantly exposed nger of disease germs 1 da passing from hand and food. Scientific cle their only protection Lifebuoy is scientifically made by the world’s largest soap makers for just one purpose—to protect health by combating the terrible dangers ever present in dirt. Of course it is splendid soap—pure and bland as soap can be made. Its abundant, creamy lather of palm fruit oil and cocoanut oil is soothing to tenderest skin. The Health Element But it is the wonderful Health Element which gives to Lifebuoy its great protective value. This Health Ele- ment goes down deep into every pore, cleansing, purify- ing, guarding against the menace of germs. You know by its wholesome odor that Lifebuoy is a Health Soap. The odor vanishes—the protection remains. Lifebuoy removes body odors and is stimu- lating to the skin after work and play. Let Lifebuoy protect your family. Place a cake at every place where there is running water. Lever Bros. Co., Cambridge, Mass. More than Soap - to mouth, nose anliness is A Health Habit

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K | | } ] 1B : - f i | Continued from Page 38 of that annuity. I should say that the ex- pectancy is worth around sixteen thousand dollars. This was her own offer, unsolicited by me; no doubt the offer will be improved. I ask you to tell me who is most interested in extinguishing the Kerfbyle claim.” Mr. Ellerbach uttered a reflective moan; his close-set eyes shone with interest. “On the face of it,’”’ said Mr. Flamm en- joyably, ‘‘the present owners of the prop- erty are interested. But the ownership is in many hands, and it is not thinkable that any one owner shouid assume the burden which is common to all. But the majority of them hold title policies of the Metropolitan, assuring them peaceful possession of their houses and lands.” “But it is absurd, my dear fellow,”’ pro- tested Ellerbach. ‘“‘Why, the mere fact that these Kerfbyles slept so long on their rights after the finding of the will " ‘Who else, then?” Ellerbach arose and stalked about the narrow chamber. ‘“*And yet,” he said undecidedly, “‘if it were cleverly handled a great deal might be done with it. It might unsettle titles. If the owner of the claim were to watch his epportunities, he could institute litigation at awkward times—when building opera- tions were projected, for instance, The claim might be used as a colorable pretext for unwilling purchasers to throw over their contracts. If properly advertised, it might depress values; no one cares to buy a lawsuit. If a decision on the merits were avoided, suit might be begun ever anew. And perhaps the title company has infor- mation bearing on the claim that we do not know of. But this is all very indefinite. The point here is that someone is willing to buy the claim; that puts an indisputable value on it.” “The title company would naturally not wish to appear,”’ suggested Flamm. ‘‘The claim would be held at a very great figure if they once gave it countenance. Their solicitor was positive in his refusal to nego- tiate when I saw him about the claim two years ago. I should have dropped the matter then if it had not been that - “If you had not felt obliged, in kindness to Mr. Kerfbyle, to let him litigate his claim to his heart’s content. You must have made a handsome thing out of it, Flamm.” - “Little enough. It was hardly worth while. You can’t get blood out of a stone, Ellerbach. But there’s a smell of real money about it now. It takes on a different look when someone is willing to pay the equivalent of fifteen or sixteen thousand dollars for it. We can’t throw this over our shoulders. And it was her own offer she'll do better. Shall we go into it? We’ve made a few dollars together in the past, Ellerbach. I know you can find plenty of cash for a good thing.” “And plenty of chances to spend it, Flamm. You did not do the fair and honest thing by me the last time, when I found the funds to purchase the property of the Lippitt estate. I have always felt that you could have made the price lower, since you were the sole trustee.” “The court would not have passed a lower: price. But don’t rake up old scores, Ellerbach. Let’s study this thing out to- gether.”’ And they put their heads together and went to studying—two wise men, two men learned in the law, two men skilled in read- ing motives and in exploring the hidden springs of human conduct. It would be a very astute rascal who dealt with these twain and succeeded in cloaking from them his designs. Iv “TMODAY, Mrs. Hancey,” said Mr Ducey Kerfbyle, placing the four- teenth olive pit on his plate, “I interviewed my attorney in reference to the recovery of the Kerfbyle estate.” Perhaps it was through his intercourse with Mr. Flamm that he had learned the trick of doing several things at once, and doing them severally well. His eyes shone with gladness, and his mind was taken up by the thought of his interview with Mr. Flamm and its sweet implications; but his hands went indefatigably about the busi- ness of stripping the table of stale food- stuffs. The blackened olives, the wilted celery, the horny bread sticks, the Nor- wegian herring in its stagnant fluid, the conventional table trappings of a regular dinner at the Maison Rosenberg, which had been spread before a score of patrons and had remained as intact as a Raines Law sandwich—these delicacies of yester- year were vanishing before the unleashed appetite of Mr. Ducey Kerfbyie. The scandalized waiter hurried to the rescue and served the cream-of-celery soup “You told me you got a letter,” said Mrs. Hancey. “Ask for more bread and butter, Deuce.”’ “Mr. Flamm wrote me, asking me to call. I saw him today, and he informed me that he had received an offer of settlement The offer was comparatively small, but the considerations which Mr. Flamm pressed on me influenced me and inclined me to regard the offer with favor. There was another consideration, Mrs. Hancey, which weighed even more with me and determined me to accept.” “I know that, Deuce,” she said, avoiding his ardent gaze and looking down in time to push the bread basket within reach of his wandering hand. ° “Mr. Flamm told me that he had serious scruples about pushing my claim to its logical conclusion. He did not deny its justice, but he begged me to reflect upor the hardship which it would visit upon a great number of innocent people. For two hundred and fifty years, Mrs. Hancey, people have been buying and selling and partitioning the eighteen acres which was once the country seat of Jacob Kerfbyle The green meadows and shady dells and forest shrubbery which were once roamed by his sixteen little ones have become the home of a great population. Hundreds of honest and well-meaning people built their houses there, and paid taxes, and invested their little savings, and looked forward to handing their properties down to their chil- dren. It would be a catastrophe if I were to insist on my right of ownership now.” “T think it 1s lovely of Mr. Flamm to worry about those people,”’ said Mrs Hancey in a flat voice “T will not hide from you, Mrs. Hancey, that he was not entirely confident of his ability to dispossess these present holders. Indeed, he said that after two years of ex haustive study of the problem he feared the thing could not be done. He showed me copies of New York statutes which were quite discouraging. I felt that I owed hima debt of sincere gratitude for the efforts he had made in my behalf in the face of those statutes. And then he informed me of the terms of the proposed settlement, and earnestly advised me to accept them. Hav- ing always in view the private consideration which has been the mainspring of my am- bition since I met you, Mrs. Hancey, I de murred at accepting a small sum and asked time for consideration; but he insisted that the chance might escape, and finally named a figure to which I agreed.” He put his hand over hers, which had drifted across the cloth. “Mrs. Hancey,” he said—“‘ Alice » She pressed his hand quickly and with- drew to make room for the bustling waiter. “‘Let’s not talk about that now, Deuce.” “Things will not be quite as I would wish to have them for you,” he said. “‘ But I'll work hard, Alice, and try to make up.” “We'll both work and save," she said. “With your salary and mine and the money you're going to get —in no time we'll be able to go into business for ourselves I’ve had THE SATURDAY EVENING POST the boy to take care of, and I haven't been able to save an awful lot of money, or I wouldn't be working for Kidd now. I've been all over the proposition, and I know that I'd be on Easy Street if I had that lit- tle store down on Fifth Avenue. Ten thou- sand a year down there would come as easy as a thousand up here in Harlem. We could work together there, for ourselves. We'll work here together, and put the dollars by, and I'll bet a penny it won't be ten years | before we have the money saved to start. But there was one thing I wanted to ask you, Deuce. If you were ever to find out that I had fooled you a little so as to get you—made things look a little more rosy, you know you'd consider why I did it, and you'd forgive me, wouldn't you, Deuce? I wanted you, Deuce.” ““Nonsense!"’ he said. “We might do it in less than ten years,” she murmured caleulatingly. ‘‘ Maybe in seven or eight, and even then we'll be young yet.” When they left the Maison Rosenberg they walked over to Mount Morris Park. It was early July, and the evening was hot and close; it would be pleasant under the green trees, if they had the luck to find two unoccupied seats on the same bench. ‘You'd better run up and get a wrap,” he said with an assumption of authority. She left him docilely and crossed One Hundred and Twenty-fourth Street to her boarding house. Her landlady was sitting on a straw pad on the high stoop “There's a letter just come for Miss Harmon, Mrs. Hancey,” said the landlady, who had been instructed to receive such missives. “‘ You'll find it in on the hatrack.” Mrs. Hancey found the letter. She ran upstairs, switched on her light and read the letter before getting her cloak—read it hastily and then with closest attention: The Beard | A Shaving Cream with Many wt wh Vadam oye gt enn Ee ~ Outstanding Virtues purchase the interest of Mr. Ducey Kerfbyle under the last will and testament of Jacob | Mennen Shaving Cream softens tl Kerfbyle, beg to inform you that I have | peard so thoroughly that it is hard to be learned today that Mr. Kerfbyle has already : disposed of his claim. I have secured the name | lieve that you are shaving, so gen of the purchaser and shall submit your offer pleasantly and quickly do the to him. I have not got much hope of his accepting the same, but feel confident that I fall before the razor edge ean secure this very valuable interest for you It kee ps your kin radiant with | h if you will make a better offer, and offer all , " : , : ; soft as a child’s proof against the cash. The purchaser is a speeulator, and could | , no doubt be persuaded to take a small profit. | irritations of wind, dust and sun Let me hear from you about this at once, before he sells to someone else. I think an immediate offer of twenty thousand dollars, much to pay for ali cash, would interest him Very truly ABRAHAM P. FLAMM. At first thougl t, 3§ cents doesn't months of pertect hay and gorgeous skin health, but Mennen' has several other exclusive virtues. | instance With the letter clutched in her hand, she hurried from the room. She ran down the stairs, fled past the landlady on her pad, and scurried across the street and into the | big convenience when you are traveling Mennen’s works just as well with « or hard water s with hot or soft \ lukewarm gloom of Mount Morris Park. boarding, camping or yachting. Besid “Deuce!” she called. “Deuce!” m, pec t hy os Deuce! cold water is mighty gox for the e Ci e o ne P “‘How much did you get, Deuce? How very stimulating. Try it much did he give you?” Mennen lather never dr the fa “Ten thousand dollars,”’ he said It will not irritate the most sensiti “Have you got it?” atin “Certainly, Alice,’’ he assured her, fum } eI as bling in his breast. “‘I have the check here 1 don ¢ have to rub in Miennen But wait! What is it? What “6 lather with fir She had caught his arm and was urging Blad st him westward : It is economical—|] th » Quarts We're going down to look at the store i she cried. ‘I want to show you the store | Of 4 cent pe 1a I picked out, down on Fifth Avenue. We'll The after sensation of skin comfort take it tomorrow morning. Hurry up, and | js du partly to the a ute purity we'll catch the bus. We can get the back | 4)... ; ont anil waite ta Oe B aluicadl seat on top if we catch it right away, befor +h e hea or “? r r ’ vw the crowds come out. Hurry up! hea . lent which “But, Alice, you haven't got the wrap tt ind relaxe k t ies and pre You'll catch your death of cold, sitting up | , tyentle. antiseptic protecti on top of that bus in that thin dress!” ible ane ite ae Ba ‘I said we'd get the hack seat Bother F , - { elir ' the wrap! We can sit in a little close, can't traveling and a nt si for hon we? Nobody ever caught her death of cold u vet tting in that back seat. Gosh, | have ry oT 07 2 - c Ss s so much to ask you! Hurry up, Deuces Try a few shave hurry up! Here’s two dimes!” Buy a tube at any drug store i it for a week Compare th as with th to which you a iccustot! | Unless you rate Mennen sha is the finest you ever énjoyed and unless vour skin is already in better condition, send tube to me and I will refur i purcha price base (Mennen Salesman) THE Mennen Company NewaraK. NJ. USA

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42 THE SATURDAY DIAMOND HEAVY SERVICE CORD True to Form Running When we first announced this Diamond Pneumatic Truck Tire as | a better tire for commercial cars and busses many operators were | induced to try it because it bore the good name of Diamond and | was backed by the thirty years success of Diamond Tire brands in the passenger car field. What have these operators found? That standard equipment on fleets. Have you examined it? Diamond Distributors are well stocked with Diamond Pneumatic Truck Tires THE DIAMOND RUBBER COMPANY, INC., Akron, Ohio Diamond TIRES FOR PASSENGER AND COMMERCIAL VEHICLES their faith has been rewarded by remarkable tire performances, | {° lower costs and the big Diamond is deserving of adoption as | ,,"' | landers EVENING POST July 7,19235 ONE ARABIAN NIGHT (Continued from Page 23) him knew her ground, seemed to know every inch of it, and he was not unwilling, for the time being, to place himself in her hands. He stood passive whileshe used his telephone for two or three calls, during which hesought to be gentleman enough not to listen to her quickly murmured words; and he remained equally passive as she piloted him coolly but quickly down to the hotel office, where at her admonition he officially surrendered his room key. Then, having quite unneces- sarily paid for a night’s lodging which he had not as yet enjoyed, he stopped on second thought and checked his suitcase before rejoining his companion. He was conscious of her standing, guarded and watchful, all the time they were de- tained in the almost deserted rotunda. And when they emerged at the carriage entrance he found a taxicab awaiting them and heard the girl’s murmured “Quick!” as he climbed into the seat beside her. She watched through the door windows as they hurtled off. She locked anxiously back as they turned a corner, careened down a couple of blocks and turned still again. He once more heard her cry of “Quick!” as they skidded to a stop before a kiosk, and saw her thrust a bill into the driver’s hand before she dived down a stairway which led below the street level. He followed her, quite ignorant of the fact that he was entering a Subway station yntil he saw her drop two nickels in a slotted box and run for a vestibuled train which had just come to a stop on the rails beside the cemented platform. They stepped aboard, thundered on for what seemed merely a minute or two to the won- dering Laban, and at the next station stop made for the door. The girl, at the top of the stairs that led to the street level, looked carefully back to make sure they were not being followed; and with her fingers clutching at Laban’s coat sleeve rounded the kiosk and threw open the door of a limousine which awaited her there. The next moment, as they were off, with- out a word of explanation or order to the uniformed chauffeur on the driving seat, it impressed Laban as rather miraculous. And it was not until they were well under way that the girl, leaning back in the padded seat, emitted a long “and luxurious sigh of relief. Just once, after resting there for a mo- ment of utter lassitude, she lifted the cur- tain that draped the rear window of their swaying cave of darkness and stared back along the light-strewn street. “We've made it!’ she announced in a tone of quiet triumph. “Yes, we seem to have made it,” agreed the young man at her side. “But the thing that’s worrying me now is just where we're going to.” He heard her quiet little laugh in the gloom. “It’s funny, but I don’t even know your | name, He told her his name, and she repeated it twice, as though the sound of it was pleasant to her ears. “And incidentally, of course, I even know yours,” he reminded her. ““Mine’s Gale,”’ she said after a mo- ” he don’t | ment’s silence. “Then, I suppose, Miss Gale | began, but she cut him short. I'm Gale— of the “No, no; not Miss Gale. Rimelander. You've heard Rimelanders, I imagine.” He was reluctantly compelled to admit ne had never heard of the Rime- “That's what makes it all so—so ab- surd,” she went on. ‘“‘For, as I said be- fore, dad just about owns that old Hotel Colbridge.”’ “Then why didn’t they that?"’ asked the literal-minded “Why didn’t you make them?” “Isn’t it all bad enough without an- nouncing it to the world?” she demanded of him. “Isn't what bad enough?’ inquire. She could afford to laugh at his innocence. “The awful way we've been hitched to- gether,” she told him as she leaned forward understand Laban. ’ he had to | in her seat, as though making an effort to see more of his face in the meager light. “It hasn’t seemed awful to me,” he an- nounced, quite obviously satisfied with the | situation. “But that’s not what the rest of the world would say,’’ she reminded him. She leaned back in the padded seat before she spoke again. ‘‘ You see, you really ought to marry me, after what we’ve gone through this last couple of hours!” He caught his breath. She was joking, of course, She was a world above him in every way. But there was intoxication in the thought, and anything might happen in a night of mysteries such as this. ‘I’m no quitter!” he proclaimed, with a half-defensive and half-quizzical grimness in his voice as he spoke. He felt her movement as she leaned for- ward in the darkness again. She was appar- ently trying to decipher his face in the darkness. “Do you like me?” she asked with the impersonal directness of a child. ‘How could anyone help it?” he reck- lessly demanded; and he was rewarded for that speech by finding her hand thrust into his. It nestled there, warm as a bird, and Laban began to feel that life, for all its imminent perplexities, was a rare and won- derful thing. He even forgot about being hungry. “You’rea darling,” announced the young woman at his side. ‘‘And you can kiss me if you really want to!” Laban began to feel a little light in the head. They seemed, in the hooded gloom of the car, oddly remote from the rest of the world—as remote, for the moment, as though they sat on a lonely planet sailing through lonely zwons of interstellar space. And already that night she had sent tum- bling his trim little structure of suburban pr oprieties, “You don’t want to? catch in her voice. “IT want to very much,” he found himself saying, though he didn’t quite know what he meant by that speech. He didn’t quite know, in fact, what any- thing meant. What he did know, a minute later, was that she lay close in his arms, that he had kissed her most unmistakably on the mouth, and that she was clinging to him and murmuring, “My hero!” It wasn’t until he had kissed her for the second time that she quite unexpectedly lapsed back into quietness. That sudden silence, in fact, tended to disturb the still tingling Laban. “It'll be easier now when we see she finally announced to him. ‘See him about what?” asked theslightly tremulous Laban. “We'll have to explain things, of course, before somebody else tries to. Can you imagine how it would sound without know- ing what you and I know?” He was willing to agree that it might not sound any too reassuring. But he was still disturbingly unsure of his ground, still prodigiously in the dark about it all “So let’s get the rumpus over with,” he heard the girl say as the car drew up at the curb. It had drawn up, he noticed, before a manorial-looking residence of gray sand- stone with a street door of silk-draped plate glass behind a barricading grille work of wrought iron. It was an impressive-looking entrance, just as it was an impressive-looking man- sion and an impressive-looking street. Laban, all things considered, wished that he could feel more at his ease. The girl ran up the wide sandstone steps, pushed the bell button and then turned blithely back to him. “It’s just like something out of a fairy story, isn't it?” she cried as she hugged his rather listless arm close to her side. They were admitted by a morose-eyed servant, on whom the girl’s light-hearted nod seemed entirely lost. So dour did that servitor’s face impress him, in fact, that Laban was glad to follow the girl up the stairway that cascaded in a ponderously ywrnate half circle from above. The light was dim, and a heavy-piled carpet muffled their steps. He came to a stop at the girl’s side before a dark-paneled door. She looked at him with one of her reassuring little smiles, and reached a hand out to turn the knob. But before she could effect that movement the door opened and a young woman in the uniform of a trained nurse stepped out. “We want to talk to dad,” coolly an- nounced the daughter of the house. (Continued on Page 44) ” she asked, with a dad,’

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST fer Economical Transporta tion ait ” ae —— See pare. ceo Be Independent With a Chevrolet The Chevrolet brings to its owner a fuller Fourth of July-——Independence Day celebrates the birthday of freedom for freedom than is possible for those who Americans. lack this modern, economical utility. He is independent of steel rails, time-tables The Government of the United States, , ; and even of the weather. He goes where each of the states, counties and munic- fs pred ; he pleases, when he pleases, and stays ipalities maintains at public expense until ready to go on or go home. splendid paved highways and graded roads, public parks and scenic natural It provides the most economical trans- reservations for the free use and enjoy- portation for himself or family, saves ment of all. But those who lack automo- time and improves health. It enables the biles derive little or no benefit from city-employed family to live in suburbs such health-giving, useful and educational even when train or trolley service is lack- public improvements. ing. It makes real independence possible. Chevrolet Motor Company, Detroit, Michigan Division of General Motors Corporation Prices F. O. B. Flint, Mich. Dealers and Service Stations : ae everywhere. Ge t free list for your SUPERIOR 2-passenger Roadster $510 on State from any Chevrolet dealer. SUPERIOR 5-passenger Touring 525 ‘ ‘ ; suUP wR? ‘ Applications will be considered . —— sini tnved . — ? 680 from high-grade dealers only, for SUPERIOR 4-passenger Sedanette. 850 territory not adequately covered. SUPERIOR 5-passenger Sedan 860 Commercial Cars Whe (ws arth y 4 i) J \ \ a SUPERIOR Commercial Chassis $425 SUPERIOR Light Delivery $10 Utility Express Truck Chassis . 575

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THE SATURDAY “Here comes Mr. Lend-Me to borrow our tire gauge” Do you know Mr. Lend-Me, the motorist? All he has is a car. When he needs a jack or a pump or a hydrometer, he uses yours. lf he needs a valve cap, he goes without it until he can pick one up somewhere. If he needs a new valve inside, he hunts up an old one. He has a lot of trouble. Here he comes to borrow a tire gauge. He knows the value of a tire gauge, but he doesn’t own one. Result is, he tests his tires when it’s convenient for him instead of when it’s necessary for the tires. The Schrader Universal Tire Pressure Gauge is a necessary part of a car-owner’s equipment. Every motorist either owns one or occasionally uses one that belongs to someone else. it is doubtful if there is a pneumatic tire in use today that hasn’t had a Schrader Tire Gauge applied to its valve at least once. ery isis Don’t borrow a tire gauge —own one Own a tire gauge. It will save you worry about your air pressure. It will help you get full mileage from your tires. It will help prevent the hard riding that comes from too much air and the tire damage that results from not enough air. The Schrader lire Gauge is accurate and will last for years. This gauge is a product of the same factory and organization that makes Schrader Valves, Schrader Valve Caps and Schrader Valve Insides. Sold by motor accessory shops, garages, and hardware stores. The Schrader Tire Pressure Gauge costs $1.25 ($1.50 in Canada). A. SCHRADER’S SON, Inc., Brooklyn, N. London Chicago Toronto Manufacturers of Schrader Tire Valves—Standard Tive Equipment SCHRADER TIRE PRESSURE GAUGE | her throat, said quietly, | Laban.” EVENING POST Continued from Page 42 “I'm afraid that will not be possible to- night, Miss Rimelander,” replied the nurse after a slight but not insignificant pause. “But I’ve got to,"’ persisted the cther, quite unruffled. Mr. Rimelander should not be upset at a time like this,”” remonstrated the young woman in the peaked white cap. “But it’s going to be good for him, what we've got to say,” averred the young lady of irrepressible spirits as she nodded for Laban to follow her into the room. Laban did so, and in doing so he found himself in a large and luxurious-looking bedroom dominated by a mahogany four- poster overhung by a French canopy of Chinese flowered chintz with an apricot colored ground. Enisled in the center of the bed, and propped up by two huge pillows with ridicu- lously lacy edgings, he saw a yellow-skinned | old man who made him think of a Chi- nese mandarin. But that impression of Orientalism lasted for a moment and no more. For the petulant-eyed man on the bed, when his gaze fell on the girl smiling at him from the footboard, blinked with condon- | ing good humor at the daughter from whom apparently he had been taught to look for | the unexpected “Well, Bobcat, what brings you here?” he asked in a thin but forbearing tone. “‘We came for your blessing,’’ said the girl, still smiling. But she turned and pushed Laban gently back into the shadows. Her movement ob- viously implied that he was to wait in the background until she could approach her parent and discreetly break the ice. And Laban fell back, watching the girl as she circled about to the head of the bed, leaned over the ridiculously ruffled pillows and essayed certain whispered and intimate acknowledgments to the blinking-eyed old aristocrat on the four-poster. “Bring the young upstart over to me, Laban heard the shrill old voice command. The girl, still with a note of laughter in “Dad wants you, Laban crossed the room and stood half- way between the heavily shaded floor lamp and the canopied four-poster. He was con- scious of the girl’s retreat into the shadows which he had so recently left. But he was more acutely conscious of the shrewd old eyes which were inspecting him from under | the brocaded canopy. “Huh!” snorted the old tyrant. want to marry my daughter, eh?” “She seems to want to marry me,” Laban was prompted to explain. But in- stead of surrendering to that impulse he merely replied, ‘ Yes, sir.”’ “And what brought you to this?” “She did,”’ was the reply of the literal- minded youth. “What?” barked the old man on the bed. “Don’t be unreasonable, dad,’’ remon- strated the girl out ot the darkness into which she had retreated. “Who's being unreasonable?"’ queried her father. He turned and directed a qua- vering finger in her direction. ‘“‘And who's always been unreasonable around here, I’d like to know, since they’ve been knee-high toa grasshopper? Who's giving me an even chance for a relapse with all this talk about love at first sight and getting married before the milkman can make his rounds? And what do you know about this young up- start who can’t even ——" He broke off. He broke off and turned angrily on the still slightly bewildered Laban. ‘If I thought, sir—if I thought for one moment that you were marrying my girl for her money I'd put an end to this before that self-willed young minx over there could slap a slipper neel against the floor!” “What's money to me?” demanded Laban with an airy gesture of repudiation. “Huh! Have you got so much of it?” bit out the old tyrant in the silk-frogged pajamas. “*T’ve serted the youth, snarled at The old man sank lower on his heaped pillows, wagging his head as he subsided. ‘I'm not dead yet, remember,’’ he mor- dantly reminded them. “So don't you two young blatherskites figure on what I’m going to leave behind me.” He emerged still again from his pillows. ‘And you, Bobcat,"’ he wheezed out, addressing his daughter with unlooked-for energy, ‘‘ how do you know this young jackanapes gives a fig for you? I guess a man’d hitch up with “So you always had what I needed,” as- who objected to being July 7,1925 a homelier girl than you for a cool three million and a half! I guess “But, dad, you don’t know the girl. “Exactly!” crowed the vitriolic old in- valid on the bed. “I don’t know. You've said it! I don’t know! And you don’t know! And the sooner we find out the easier this thing can be settled So, first thing, who is this young cub? And how did he get here, and where does he come from?” Meeklyand methodically Laban explained his origin, his advent to the city and his earlier intention of promptly leaving it. “*And on what ship, sir, and of what line, were you to do this radio work?”’ demanded the bright-eyed old inquisitor, once Laban had identified himself as a wireless operator. “The Aleutiana, the new boat for the Puget and Kyukuot Company,” explained the youth. “The Puget and Kyukuot Company!” echoed the other, sitting up. ‘Why, sir, I own that company!” “You own it?” repeated Laban with a stare of incredulity. A chortle shook the pendulous old throat of the man on the bed. “Well, I carry enough of that company’ stock to have the final say-so in its affairs And if you're going to marry that Bobcat of mine over there, it strikes me you've got to be something better than a key pounder on a second-rate coaster. So what d’you want, sir? How'd you feel about taking over our Eastern offices here and running the whole shebang from this end of the line?” Laban’s head began to swim. There seemed nothing, in that sudden upheaval of his universe, to which he could cling and steady himself. I don’t believe I'd have the equip- ment for a job like that,” he hesitatingly explained. “Fiddlesticks!”’ said the bright-eyed old man on the bed. “You get what you grab in this world, and I don’t want my gir! hitching up with a chicken-hearted molly- coddle. I want something more than a handsome head, sir; I want something in it! Laban felt flattered at the same moment that he felt indeterminately distressed. Things seemed to be moving too fast for assimilation. He was being crowded into bignesses that were too amazingly new to be swallowed neat. When he realized the old man on the bed was still eying him with the sharpness of a narrow bargainer, the bewildered youth turned back to the girl named Gale as though in quest of support from her. The silence was broken by a sharp cack|« of laughter from the old man. “How about it, Bobcat? like the lad?” “I’m crazy about him, dad!” ingly candid young lady tested; and still again Laban was both flattered and distressed; for, with all his youth, life had already beaten a feather or two from the wings of illusion. What he was getting seemed too much for him. The tide of luck in some way seemed too incred- ibly beneficent. ‘Then that’s settled,”’ announced the keen-eyed old invalid on the four-poster “You get the New York office, young man, and you get my girl. She’s a hot-headed young minx, sir. I warn you of that before- hand. But her heart’s as warm as her head, even though she has a will of her own. And it will be up to the two of you, when I’m gone, to ——” He was interrupted by the entrance of the nurse. She came into the room quietly but burriedly, with a glance at Laban as she stepper past him that he did not alto- gether like. “What is it?”’ asked her patient with a note of unlooked-for sharpness in his voice “There’s an officer waiting down at the door, sir,’’ was the nurse’s answer. ‘“‘What’s he waiting there for?’ manded the owner of the house. “For this young man,” said the nurse, with a nod towards Laban. **And what does he want with him?” “He wants to question him about a jewel robbery.” Laban felt his heart sink, but courage did not altogether forsake him. He swung about to the four-poster with his jaw set But before he could speak the girl! called Gale interrupted. ‘That’s all poppycock!”’ she cried. ‘“‘I know exactly what the detective down Continued on Page 46 ’ began D’you really that amaz- promptly pro- de-

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST

if ‘“ " (‘og w G) a r m3 46 | Byte ZZ Glee WS es A Con % Ae eo j ; siesiinsdiion SOS SNA She ot > ae = CSA ae ew a aM r i aS ORS SR A an Sak = aA ns ee ce ae = pee ecm Sea meee See eee res |p yA ! Se ——— ——— iN ——— - — << — + ~~ - vA &, ” FF if , © WAN { Ny aS 5 t 1} WR } ‘=z 11 ly Seg 4 \ 1 ‘ | I Ahh .P | Wee fh! ' MN | i | i HMI | ; i NN 4 ) hi re. i I | i 4y J ADH | HOW j b 1] (i { i | 1h Ay i i IN | We Wri ; lien MAU t | , 0 | KM } an |i - poo yy | q] | qn i | (7 4 NI ; <r iil Py | : Ky \ i ) | hy #) ; HN hi) Kt , lit \ 1d HAN | ‘il Ha) Way | i Ky i! 1) ' SAN 1 All Y lj | iit } é BY We ih JA}, i} WN RY 1s q ANN i] II ig REN Hig if q a AN hi a . CAIN USS aka rar ' (- WI | ES) 7 NCS {Waal | AI A= ea ky ‘! ely | 1 Raed Ban | ae aS Pet Su Gi | Kea » X}) p ee y ( cy] | . | iH K CAN ak y 19 | 4 Wy Pe iC | i Nt EN? | 4 All iH | | Vil i Mi ea) HY] PAA 1, \y | i if hi | Wit yy FRANK in’ 17 | avenss hs 4 Nail - | i We Wl i } | Im hal | lie , It is not strange that those who previously drove They are finding that the Single-Six is actually wv § S { 100) cars of less than Packard price now make up a large more economical to own and to maintain. hy INE) : 7 . , hs, 1%, proportion of the Single-Six ownership They are expecting to escape the loss always in Head I The reason is so plain and simple, it is so appealing volved in frequent change,-by driving their present 104) i / . . . . 7 hilo Ihe | WA to good business sense, that more and more Single- Single-Six cars five years and more, because they ty} vs , 1 Ny 14 Six Owners are men and women whose earlier know that thousands of Packards are still going | 4, J ° » . | Hail experience has been with lower-priced cars. after fifteen years of daily us | i) 4! 7 . . Tr lk Mi | Out of this experience, and now out of their Thus, at a material reduction of their motoring AN ¥ | yi e . . Vil if Iai Packard experience, they are learning that Packard cost, they enjoy the prestige of Packard owner h 3) | value is a more stable value. ship and the luxury of Packard performance. A Pa f Mik Single-Six Touring Car, Five 24 it Detr ni

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Continued from Page 44) there wants to talk about, and if there’s any talking to be done I’m going to do it. So come on, Laban!” The girl had already slipped an arm through his and was leading him from the room. He was dazed, but he was not too dazed to notice, once the door was shut behind them, that instead of turning towards the stairway they were heading deeper into the house and facing a narrow flight of steps that led to the story above. “Where are we going?” asked Laban as | they mounted the thick-carpeted treads. “To the roof,’ was the grim rejoinder. “Don’t you see we daren’t face that man down there? And the sooner we get out of here the better for both of us.” “But what good?” began Laban, fol- lowing her up still another flight. “Look out for your head!” cried the girl as she swung open the roof transom and half guided and half thrust him into the open. He found himself on a sheet-metaled roof surrounded by a forest of coping tiles and chimney tops and roof hatches. The stars shone , He on them and a cool breeze blew between them, and there was a thin but persistent sense of consolation in the thought that he was once more in the open. | Yet wonder was still strong in him as he Genuineness 1s Your Assurance of Satisfaction watched the slender girl slide over a glazed coping tile and drop in her precarious nar- row slippers to a pebbled and sloping house roof slightly lower than the one on which he stood. He heard her half-whispered call, warning him to come quickly. So he lowered himself more guardedly, and turned to follow her as soon as he was once more sure of his footing. But he could catch no trace of her as he peered through the shadowy half light. He felt for one foolish moment that she must have fallen over a roof edge. Then he felt that she must be awaiting him in the shadow of one of the walls or hatches which stippled that broken arroyo of tarry peb- bles and metal and bricks. But he failed to find her as he crept forward from shadow to shadow. He even called out to her as he circled irresolutely about. But he soon stood intimidated by the sound of his own voice. It came home to him as he groped his way to a wall top and sat down on the coping tile crowning it that the situation was not one to shout over. He waited there with a slow subsiding of hope, wondering why that midnight enter- prise should suddenly seem so pallid. The girl was gone; there was no doubt of it. | She had dropped out of his life again as Anything genuine—whether it be gems, money or what not—has your confidence and is quite naturally your preference. You know through experience that genuineness guarantees satisfaction. This is particularly true of automotive parts where genuineness is so essential to trouble-free performazice. United Motors, whose official sign appears above, is the authorized service organization for the eight great manufacturers whose familiar trade names appear on the panels. Its Branches and Authorized Service Stations throughout the United States and Canada carry complete stocks of genuine parts—parts recom- mended and supplied to the car manufacturers. Whenever parts are needed it will pay you, both from the standpoint of satisfaction and economy, to insist upon genuine parts. You can be sure of getting genuine parts by going to those service stations displaying the United Motors sign of Authorized Service. UNITED Morors SERVICE General Offices: PO Branches in Detroit, Michigan INCOR RATED Principal Cities Service Stations Everywhere abruptly as she had dropped into it. And with her going, in some odd way, the zest and color of that ridiculous midnight ex- cursion ebbed dolorously away. It came slowly home to Laban that he had been expecting a trifle too much of life. It came home to him, too, that he was lost along the skyey ramparts of an unknown city, and that the true explanation of how he came to be a trespasser along that noc- turnal sky line would neither sound reason- able nor stand investigation. Yet Laban, for all his predicament, found his anxiety shot through with a sense of relief. He wag grateful for the chill night air, which at the same time that it cooled his body also seemed to cool his reason. The whole thing, he began to feel, had been rather ridiculous and rather incredible. He experienced that indeterminate satisfaction which comes to a theatergoer at times when he emerges from an overcrowded playhouse of overcrowded action, and resumes once more the sane but sordid pace of the street. Already a haze of unreality was drifting between him and the scenes through which he had so recently been hurried. They seemed something fictitious and hectic. And even the girl called Gale, the girl whose voice he had heard not ten minutes ago, seemed to be slipping away into the phantasmal, like a figure remembered out of an overvivid dream. Yet the predicament directly before him, he saw as he peered about in the darkness, was a sufficiently substantial one. He was a trespasser on somebody's housetop, where he had no business to be, and it was not the hour for casual explorations. As he pushed guardedly forward, in fact a sense of isola- tion overtook him, like that of a mountain climber lost in lonely and perilous altitudes. it seemed as though he was treading on sleepers with nothing but the skin of a drum between him and that army of out- raged householders only too ready to resent his intrusions. He imagined armed figures confronting him from roof doors and portly July 7,1923 ren in pajamas demanding his surrender. He pictured himself being led docilely down to a police station and held for burglary or third-degreed as a second-story man taken red-handed in his wanderings. And his dis- taste for those solemn and gloomy house- tops increased until the mere rattle of a clothesline pulley could send a thrill scam- pering up and down his spine, and the crack of a pebble under his cautiously advanced shce heel could bring him up short. More and more he felt like an arial adventurer keeling the ridgepoles of a sleeping city, and more and more he longed for the chance of dropping an anchor down to earth. There were doors enough about him, hatch and bulkhead and scuttle doors, which he was quite without the stomach td investigate. For each of them, as far as he could decipher, led only to peril. So he kept morosely on his way, struggling up and down limy parapets, evading cat teasers and clotheslines, lowering himself over one party wall and mounting another, but always carefully veering away from skylights and treading more softly where rimpled zine threatened metallic thunders under his feet. But always, too, as he moved so cautiously forward, he peered about for any reasonable avenue of descent He ached to feel flagstone and asphalt once more under his feet. For until he was back on terra firma, he knew, he could not walk with safety. ’ Then he stopped abruptly. He stopped because his scalp felt cold and he remem- bered that he had no hat with him. His spirits went down at that thought, slowly and ponderously, like a freight elevator He stared disconsolately about at the suf- fused amethystine light that hung over the city. He could hear the restless murmur of that city, remote and unceasing, punc tuated by the occasional sharper note of a motor horn and the periodic crescendo and decrescendo of surface cars passing a street corner on some near-by track. Then he heard another and more definite sound. It was the whine of violins, the pulse and throb of music rising and falling in the night air somewhere ahead of him. So he adventured further along that rugged rectangle of housetops, smelling out the sound that was so disturbing and at the same time so relieving. His eyes had be- come accustomed to the dark, and as he advanced he could discern a roof garden rising like an oasis out of that broken desert of brick and metal. He could see rustic railings and rows of tubbed cedars and a gray canvas awning flapping in the breeze above the massed greenery. There were no lights on this roof garden, but the reviving pulse of music came from directly beneath it; and as he stood studying it he caught the refracted luminous glow from a door that quietly opened and closed again. His spirits revived at that, for here was a pathway where he could awaken no sleep- ers and intrude on no privacies. It was dance music that he heard, and he could even catch the hum of many voices from that house of open mirth and open windows. So he decided to make the plunge. He lightly climbed the coping tiles, held two of the stunted cedars apart and swung heavily down to the slatted flooring of the verdure-inclosed aerie. Then he checked himself with a suppressed cry in his throat, for in making that descent he had come within an inch of treading on the trailing thin fingers of a woman. She was a young woman, sheathed in pale rose, as far as he could see in the half light, and between her and the boarded roofing was spread a deeper red wrap edged with fur. Seated close beside her on this outspread wrap was a man. Laban could see the white oblong of his shirt front, the slash of white cuff at the end of the arm about the bare-shouldered woman. The man had been kissing her, Laban knew. He did not even draw away his arm as the stooping, startled face stared down into the upturned faces, equally startled. Nothing was said during that moment of suspended motion. No word passed be- tween them as the intruder indecisively drew back from the huddled figures so close to his feet. But some partnership of guilt seemed to impose silence upon them; and that silence fortified Laban as he straight- ened up, stepped quietly to the door at the head of the narrow stairway and swung it open, He did his best to retain that air of quiet composure as light and warm air and a medley of voices confronted him. But his Continued on Page 48 ——— — ree ewer aonacmeasestitl”

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The GG COACH Gives Closed Car Comforts UDSON 41525 Freight a HUDSON Prior to the Coach, closed cars on high-grade chassis were too costly for most buyers. A moderate priced closed car meant a low- priced chassis. The Coach, for the first time combined closed car comforts and fine chassis quality, at a price forall. It gives every utility you can get in any closed car. And you do not forfeit perform- ance, reliability and mechanical excellence to obtain these advantages at almost open car cost. HUDSON PRICES Speedster . . . $/425 7-Pass. Phaeton . ‘ 147 Coach . . , ° , 1525 Sedan . 1995 MOTOR CAR THE SATURDAY EVENING POST COMPANY, at Open Car Cost > KSSEX #1145 nd Tax Extra Doors and built The Coach is staunchly built. windows stay tight and snug. It is throughout for long hard service. On either the Hudson Super-Six or the Essex chassis it meets every family and business re- quirement a good looking, easily handled cer for comfortable, all weather travel. In choosing your next car, be sure to see the Coach. It will satisfy your every closed car need ata saving of from £500 to £1200, ESSEX PRICH Touring $/045 i Cabriolet J ‘145 fy Coach . 5 ‘ 1145 DETROTT, MICHIGAN

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‘rom one small pan to a million pieces a day half century ago Daniel Peter made only a few pounds ft his milk chocolate at a time capacity ol his little oven foday in the American kitchens ousands of pounds are Daniel Peter not only orig inated milk checolate; he orig 1 inated the special process by which today in making Peter's the milk and sugar are blended with choice chocolate. Much fine flavor depends on this process, it is a of yout ter’ s secret, Of the scores of varieties of cocoa beans but. six xo into Peter's and only certain choice vrades of these. It is an art roasting ind blending these beans. And the Peter's process | is still a secret Peter is. different —disting t's good You'll like the fine, rare flavor of it Ask for Peter's today Peter's promptly, Company, 13 sole selling Peter's MILK CHOCOLATE THE SATURDAY (Continued from Page 46) heart was in his mouth, and he found noth- ing to say when a couple, halfway down the stairs, moved closer against the wall to let him pass. Yet his courage rose the next |} moment, for they had neither questioned nor stopped him, and a minute later he was lost in a crowded beehive of color and move- ment and noise. He was so sure of himself by this time, in fact, that he deliberately side-stepped into a large and smoke-filled bedroom littered with men’s hats and scarfs and greatcoats. He looked over the hats without trepidation, selected a modest | one which he felt might suit him and knew would fit him, and calmly continued on his way to- wards the ground floor of the house. He — by couples too intent on their own ends to ob- serve him, avoided the eyes of a hurrying footman, crossed a re- ception hall, and coolly opened the grilled iron-and-glass door that led to the street. vil ABAN breathed deep when he felt the fresh air once more on hisface. Heignored the clump of chauffeurs smoking beside one of the cars lined op at the curb, but refused to acceleraie his pace. He walked solemnly to the near- est corner, rounded it witi: a gulp of gratitude and once more «aught the crescendo and decrescen:o of a street car as it swept across the cafion of quietness into which he had turned. Seeing this, he decided to board the next car. It was not until he was under way (hat he felt reasonably safe. Then as he slunped wearily down in his seat he surrendered (o an unwilled but welcome mood of indiffe: ency, to a feeling of tension relaxed and danger past. His night had been a busy one, so busy that one wave of sensation seemed to have obliterated another. It had made its demands on him. He wanted to rest, to reorganize the overtrodden aisles of consciousness. His head was like a depart- ment store at the end of a heavy day’s Resi ness, He was glad to sit there in a languor of fatigue and let that undulating and half- empty car carry him into some fortifyingly remote quarter of the city; and some quarter of the city, he reminded himself, | where he could sit down before a square meal and end that desolating ache just above the pit of his stomach. He had no intention of falling asleep. Nothing was further from his mind. But there was something soothing in the modi- fied rocking of the floor under his feet, in the rhythm of the wheel rims pounding the rail ends, and before he quite knew it the curtains of fatigue were quietly lowered over his eyes and his head drooped forward. He awakened with a start, persuaded that he had surrendered to forty winks and nothing more. But he noticed that the car in which he sat was now well filled with passengers, and he further observed as he | stared out of the window that they were in an entirely different part of the city. He | could not be sure of the street, but it was | one no longer bordered by sedate house | fronts and the periodic illumination of lonely lamp-posts. He found himself in a valley of movement and color and sound incredibly crowded, a valley filled with light that was colder and harder than the light of day. This light came from a bewil | dering tangle of sources—from bulb-strewn foyers and brilliant shop fronts and multi | tinted sky signs in motion, with clustered | globes on tall metal standards and terraced windows and lamp-lined facades and moving vehicles barking or clanking for their right of way under signal towers blos- soming with nervous moons of pearl and green and ruby. Laban suspected that he must be back on Broadway again, but he could not be sure He did his best to catch sight of a reassur- ing street sign, but he was uncertain where to look for such things, and before his eye had time for exploration the car in which he sat swept on again. So he looked tenta- tively about the passengers surrounding him, hoping to encounter a face friendly enough to encourage a question as to his whereabouts. He looked from face to face, vaguely depressed by the self-immurement which he encountered there. His eye wan- dered on, right back to the rear entrance. There it stopped, arrested by a movement on the platform as the car slowed down. EVENING POST Laban noticed a man leap up on the steps, as alert as a newsboy snatching asale. He noticed as he sank a little lower in his seat this man’s quick yet seemingly preoccupied stare up and down the car’s length; and Laban breathed a little easier as he saw the man turn away and swing down from the steps. For that swarthy-faced man with the nervously appraising eyes, he now knew beyond a shadow of doubt, was the same man who earlier that night had in- vaded his room in the Colbridge and held a pistol barrel against his ribs. “Trail in Wit’ Me an’ I'tt Show Youse a@ Flop Joint Wit’ the Lid Off" Laban breathed easier, but only for a moment. For as the car slowed down again that swarthy-faced stranger once more swung aboard the platform, pushed his way into a freshly vacated seat, and innocently unfolded and quite as innocently proceeded to peruse an evening paper which he held well up in front of his face. A large and sudden distaste for that car took possession of Laban. He watched two weary but rubicund old ladies, carrying opera glasses and souvenir programs, as they pushed closer in towards where he sat. Discreetly he rose and proffered his seat. But even more discreetly he fell back in the shadow of their generous bulk, keeping his eye as he moved closer and closer to the front car door on the man behind the paper. That man, he tried to persuade him- self, had no knowledge of this retreat. The man, at any rate, had given no sign of such knowledge. But Laban was doubly grateful July 7,1925 for the crowd at the corner when the car stopped and he stepped out. He dipped into that crowd like a frightened animal into cover. Through those massed units he wove an irregular course, with an occasional uarded look over his shoulder to me.ke sure e was not being followed. But what made cover for his own body, he remembered, made equally effective cover for an en- emy’s; and he had no wish to skirt too narrowly the margins of safety. - Like all fugitives, he felt that his best chances of freedom lay in movement. So when, on the fringe of the traffic that eddied about him, he caught sight of a rubberneck wagon garlanded with the swaying paper globes of red and blue and yeliow of Chinese lanterns, and heard the midnight barker announcing the last sight- seeing trip to Chinatown, he circled about to the shadowed side of the wagon, climbed quietly aboard and buried himself behind the high-backed seats on the pretense that he had dropped a coin there. He main- tained his search for that imaginary lost coin until it became ridiculous, and the last of the passengers to fill his terrace bench of a seat even became jocularly re- monstrative. But the swaying lanterns were taken down, the barker climbed aboard and produced a worn megaphone, and the chariot of winged curiosity started on its way towards the realm of the tong and the tea house. Laban wasn’t much interested in that car or its mission. He was more interested in the fact that it was carrying him away from a certain swarthy-faced man, and at the same time closer to the water front. He remembered, from his earlier study of a map of New York, that Chinatown lay comparatively close to the East River, and that the East River lay between Manhat- tan and Brooklyn. This meant that he was moving appreciably nearer to where the Aleutiana lay at her berth, and his thoughts were now centered more and more on getting safely aboard his snip. He found consolation in the fact that everybody aboard that rumbling and lumbering vehicle seemed, like himself, a stranger tothecity. Allabout him were tourists and bridal couples and mild-eyed delvers into the enormities of night life, listening raptly enough to the nasal elucidations of the man with the megaphone. He knew well enough that they were being duped, in a way; that the ivory they were to buy would be polished bone and the jade a product of American factories, just as there would be a touch of the factitious about the opium- cellar scenes and the theatricalized fan-tan game at the end of some sufficiently intri- cate underground passage. He was a son of the Pacific Coast, and knew the Oriental] and his ways. New York, he felt, could show him nothing new along that line. He sat back in his swaying seat, im- pressed by the tameness of the nocturnal quarters through which he was being -har- ioted. Even the Bowery, a region which the moving pictures and the printed page should have made wonderful to him, now merely tended to impress him as a well- lighted and sedately commercialized thor- oughfare with no promise of romance behind its mask of respectability. Equally unre- sponsive did he remain to the clamorous ugliness of Chatham Square. Yet a moment after the big car had swung out of that square a change crept. over the tired and listless-eyed youth. At a breath, almost, they had rumbled into a new world; a new world that seemedgin- comparably old. For by this time they were in a darker and less decipherable re- gion, a region of huddled walls and narrow and irregular streets, of crowded iron bal conies strung with colored lights, of swing- ing vertical signs in scarlet and gold, Laban’s nostrils were assailed by heavier and more exotic smells, dull odors, of sandal- wood and chandoo and sen-sen, which took his thoughts back to the Oriental steamers that used to lie along the water front at Seattle and Victoria. He caught sight of narrow shop fronts that made him think of Canton and Shanghai, of curio dealers’ windows crowded with lacquer work and jade and pottery and bronze, of the illu- minated mouths of cellars stippled with Continued on Page §1 ee

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i i , © t | | F I | j { i i i ¥ | ! | . a Over half of the cars on the road are Fords The 8 Economies of Veedol Fordol 1—10 to 25% saving in gasoline—Hun dreds of tests have demonstrated that Veedol Fordol conservatively saves 10° on gasoline consumption. 25 to 33% sav ings have been developed repeatedly. 2—Eliminates costly “chatter” —Veedol Fordol lengthens the life of Ford brake and transmission bands by properly lu- bricating them. ‘‘Chatter” a result of faulty lubricants, is entirely eliminated. 3—10 to 25% saving in oil—The savings in oil consumption run from 10 to 25°; The exact savings depend upon the me- chanical condition of the engine and the lubricant formerly used. 4—10 to25% lesscarbon—Veedol Fordol forms on an average from 10 to 25% less carbon in the Ford engine cylinders. The exact savi -_ depend on the mechanical condition of the engine and the lubricant formerly used. Less carbon means more power with fewer repairs. 5—Resists heat and friction —Veedol Fordol possesses to a super-degree the famous characteristic of all Veedol oils to resist heat and friction. 6—Increased ability to coast —With average lubrication a Ford will only coast down steep hills. With Veedol Fordol coasting is possible down the slightest grades. 7—Resists fuel dilution—Even with poor fuel Veedol Fordol maintains its power- seal and lubricating value longer than other oils. Result—more miles per gallon of gas and per quart of Veedol Fordol 8—Fewer Repairs— Because Veedol Fordol masters the lubricating problem of the Ford power plant the result is a hitherto unknown freedom from engine vibration and repair bills. Send for Veedol Fordol booklet pene eens . ae - ME NEY, BUTE Lyi ELE! PLM eg AG tes RN etna For years, folks lubricated their Ford cars—many still do—with the same oils that other folks used in Buicks, Dodges, Chevrolets, Locomobiles and a host of other cars—correct oils for those cars, perhaps, but not for the Ford! The only oil that will perfectly lubri- cate the Ford should be made for the Ford—exclusively! And for this rea- son ;—the very same oil you use in your Ford engine must lubricate your Ford transmission. This exclusive Ford feature requires an exclusive lubricant. That’s why Veedol Fordol was cre- ated for the Ford. Veedol Fordol mas- ters the dual lubrication problem pre- sented by the Ford engine and planetary transmission—a problem that baffled lubrication experts for years. Veedol Fordol succeeds where other oils fail. It took four long years of laboratory and road work to perfect Veedol Fordol. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Made to lubricate the ord * ” Excl usively. DOL PORD nate ie we In one minute you enjoy the result. Immediately you notice the complete absence of jerky chatter, caused by the use of wrong oils. No more do the brake bands hold you back when you coast. Your Ford has the smooth ease of operation of higher priced cars. Equally important are some of the economies of Veedol Fordol. Better gasoline and oil mileage. More power when you need it most. Fewer repairs. Do this to convince yourself. Go to your dealer. Have him drain the old oil and refill the crankcase with Veedol Fordol. Better still, buy a 5-gallon can of Veedol Fordol and get 2,000 to 3,000 economy miles at less than one-third of a cent per mile. TIDE WATER OIL SALES CORPORATION Chicago New YORK San Francisco 3433 So. Racine Ave 11 Broadway 440 Brannan St Veedol oile and greases are sold throughout the world The new economy oil for Fords

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ‘Stop! Your tail light’s out!” BUT you'll be safe if you carry a kit of spare Edison MAzpA Lamps. It contains a dependable lamp for each socket and slips in the pocket of your car. Get a kit today. EDISON LAMP WoRKS OF GENERAL ELECTRIC COMPANY You have them in your home— put them on your car. © E. L.W. of G. E. Co, 1923 EDISON MAZDA g LAMPS July 7, 1925

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ry —— ‘i (Continued from Page 48) moving figures in loose pantaloons and pongee blouses and senshaw skullcaps. Be- fore a chop-suey house with red-and-black dragons along its walls he saw an old China- man in a queue and sandals, and in a door- way piled high with strange-looking greens and fruits and nuts he caught sight of a sloe-eyed child—who should have been abed hours ago—flaming like a_night- blooming cereus in her straight-lined dress of brilliant raw silk. He saw tea houses, bright with Ningpo varnish and gold leaf, where yellow-faced smokers stared indiffer- ently up at the invading omnibus. He passed a joss house whose carved images seemed more pagan than the totem pole of his native coast. Then he caught sight of a more preten- tious restaurant, with incandescent lamps along the galleries, and a bluecoat in front of it and a line of modish-looking cars parked close beside its curbing. He found something so fortifying in that repeated note of modernity that he decided, as the slumming party politely debouched from their parterres of seats to invade the gam- bling warren of one Sui Hau, to give his midnight friends the slip and work his way towards Brooklyn Bridge and the water front, where he knew his ship would be lying. He sidled off, without comment, from that sedentary and preoccupied line. He had not gone twenty steps, however, before he became conscious of an extremely spare youth in a soiled sweater apparently keep- ing step with him. He drew up short be- fore a window filled with gongs and images and diminutive glazed pottery, to make sure that those companioning steps meant something more than an accident. The lean youth came to a stop close beside him. “Yuh did the right t’ing, kid, in cuttin’ dat rubberneck scow. Dey’s fakers, the whole bunch 0° Gem.” Laban’s eye was a hostile one as he turned and inspected the interloper who stood so unpleasantly reminding the truant that he wasn’t quite so free as he had imagined. “Trail in wit’ me an’ I'll show youse a flop joint wit’ the lid off,’’ suggested the stranger, altogether undisturbed by Laban’s studiously unsympathetic inspection. “I’m not looking for flop joints,’ an- nounced the young Westerner. ‘I’m look- ing for a place to eat.” At that the lean youth brightened per- ceptibly. “Den I'll steer youse to one o’ the kip- piest chow holes in the quarter,’”’ he fra- ternally suggested, with a claw already clinging to the other’s coat sleeve. But Laban, who felt that he knew more of life than he had done one short day be- fore, shook off that claw and turned, with a show of ferocity, on his oppressor. “Say, you get to hell out o’ here!” he proclaimed with a brusqueness which came as a surprise to his own startled spirit. “Save that bunco-steering stuff for the corn rustlers, for I happen to know as much about Chinatown as you know about coke snuffing.” Laban’s chest was still a bit inflated as he continued on his way along the crowded street, for the withered figure had drawn back at that unlooked-for disclosure of sophistication and vanished in the dark- ness. And Laban felt surer of himself as he strode on to the next corner, though he was forced to pull up there for a moment, un- certain as to which turn would take him towards the river. He finally decided that it would be safest to veer back to the po- liceman for information. That officer could also tell him of a respectable place for a stranger to go in and get a decent supper. His spirits rose almost miraculously at the thought of that supper. Then they sank again even more rapidly, for as he started forward he most unmistakably felt the weight of a heavy hand fall on his shoulder. He swung about, startled. He looked up to see a big man with a bony face and a chest like a gorilla standing close be- side him. “Wu Fang Low wants to see you,” said the stranger, without so much as a look down into the face of the slighter-bodied youth. viii HERE was something impersonal and fateful about that message so quietly delivered; and the receiver of it, as he stood squinting up at the bearer of it, had no lik- ing for the mysterious huge hulk of a man whose paw still so remindingly rested on his shoulder. THE SATURDAY Laban’s first impulse in fact was to shake that hand off and writhe away, protesting that he knew nothing of Wu Fang Low and nursed no desire to be inspected by him. But Laban knew that this was not quite tae truth. He also knew that his chance of es- caping was microscopic. Flight, he remem- bered, would only muddle his case; and he had done nothing, after ail, of which he need be afraid. ‘*What does Wu Fang Low want?” he asked, conscious of the power in the heavy hand that was already turning him about in his tracks. They were moving forward by this time, side by side. “Wu Fang Low wants to see you,” re- peated the stranger. That was all he said, and he uttered it in a tone which carried the implication that it was all he cared to say. “You said that before,”” complained La- ban. “And once ought to have been enough,” asserted his oxlike captor. Laban began to resent this autocratic in- terference with his freedom. He resented the dictatorial way in which he was piloted around a corner and herded down a nar- rower but less noisy street, where yellow- faced figures clacked back and forth in list slippers along the shadowy shop fronts. He was pondering the most vigorous way of expressing this resentment when the stran- ger stopped, opened a black-wooded door and ushered him into a long passageway with its somber length broken by three gilded arches. A silver bell tinkled as a door was opened at the end of this passage, and they crossed a small room with teakwood beams and brightened with gold leaf. Then his guide opened another door on the right, and descended a narrow stairway, where the air was pungent with the mingled aroma of hop and park nor mi. At the foot of this stairway Laban caught the sound of an alto violin squeaking to the accompaniment of a softly thumped drumhead. This music stopped of a sudden as the big man beside him knuckled a tattoo on the black panel of a door. The door opened. It opened miracu- lously, swung back by no hand that Laban could see, for he found himself in an empty room. “Wait here,” said his thick-shouldered guide as he crossed the room and disap- peared beyond a heavy portiére of apple green silk shuttled with threads cf silver. Laban, as he waited, examined the room closely. On three of the walls, black- studded and filigreed with gold, hung three pieces of tapestry. These, in a confusion of soft colors, seemed to depict the adventures of a Celestial maiden sought by a youth in asampan. The one wall without a tapestry was divided into two arches supported by carved and gilded panels representing, like magnified chinaware, conventionalized gar- den scenes of the Orient. In one corner stood a heavily carved chest bound with bright metal. In the other stood alow dragon-claw table holding yellow tea dishes, and between chest and table lay a silk rug as soft in tone as the tapestries so companionably overlooking it from the wall. Laban was still wondering why so simple an arrangement could produce so compli- cated a sense of beauty when the silver- threaded portiére parted and a_ yellow- jacketed young Chinaman, advancing mincingly, uttered the one word ‘‘Come.” Laban, walking slowly, and finding in that tardiness of movement a perverse ex- pression of his personal independence, stepped in under the rustling portiére. He found himself in a brightly lighted room not unlike the one he had just left sut this time the room was not unoccupied. Across the farther end of this inner chamber stood a black table, low and large and heavy-timbered. Seated behind it was an old Chinaman in a flowered mandarin coat, and at one end of it, facing him as he en- tered, sat a thin-nosed and narrow-faced white man with a shining high forehead and an eye as intent as a rat’s. Laban from the first did not like the ap- pearance of that white man. There was cruelty about the thin-lipped mouth and arrogance in the deep-set eyes, which stud- ied him closely as he came to a stop in the middle of the lacquered floor. There a teakwood chair stood six paces in front of the table, as though it had been placed there with a scrupulous forethought as to symmetry. “Sit down,” commanded the thin-lipped man at the table end. EVENING POST Laban resented the manner of that ad- | dress, and showed it by the slow and slightly contemptuous way in which he | finally seated himself. He was looking now, not at the white man, but at the old Chinaman directly opposite him. He saw | a stout old man wearing horn spectacles | and a large air of benevolence. This man’s face, for all its incredibly intricate network of fine wrinkles, was as hairless as that portion of the blue-scalped head not cov- ered by the satin cap which lent an air of the pontifical to the impassive and motion- | less figure. The great loose-folded tunic of brocaded blue silk added to this effect. The only ridiculous thing about him, Laban felt, was the rimpled right hand resting on the black-topped table, the unmoving right hand, where the nails were so long that they curled in towards the flaccid palm. This, in a figure less venerable, might have carried an accidental note of malignity, but in connection with a creature so mild it seemed to spell only timeless and tribal futilities. For never once did the placid- | eyed old Chinaman look directly at Laban. His expression remained one of aloofness, of imperturbable tranquillity, of mellow | indifference towards all that may overtake man on this momentary sphere of trouble. | Laban, in fact, felt drawn towards the be- nignant old figure in its fastidiously ornate apparel of another world, just as he was repelled by the keen and challenging eyes of | the narrow-faced white man, who should | have stood closer to his sympathies. And as though to confirm that impres- sion, the white man suddenly and sharply broke the silence. “You have been very clever,” he said, with a note of mockery in his words that was altogether distasteful to the studious- eyed youth confronting him. “Havel?” parried Laban, not quite sure as to what the other was driving at. “You probably think so,” retorted the man at the table end. “But you have shaken out your bag of tricks, and now we shall see just how far your cleverness is goiry to carry you.” Laban stared at his enemy, for already he had accepted this man as his enemy. He stared with the blank-faced sullenness of a harried schoolboy. He sat there, perversely exulting in this silence which he had im- posed upon them. He could show them just how far their own cleverness would get them if they proposed to pull any of their theatrical third-degree stuff on him! And he withdrew into his blankness stolidly, as a turtle withdraws into its shell. Yet there was something about the re- sultant quietness that disturbed him. He could not define it at first. But he began to understand as he waited and listened that the disturbing factor in that sustained hush of expectancy was a sound or a series of sounds so thin and remote that at times they became inaudible. It was a faint tapping that he heard, muffled and hurried, and at first Laban even thought it was some Oriental chef beating eggs in a metal bowl. But as he listened, with his eyes still veiled, he finally canceled that thought. Then he let his gaze fall and seemed to be studying the motionless legs of the old Chinarnan where the flowing pantaloons of light blue silk were held about the fat ankles by bands of black satin. But his thoughts were not on those legs All consciousness was focused on the fact that the metallic tapping which he heard was cordinating itself into intelligence and that he was liste’.ing to somebody, beyond the walls where he sat, operating a tele- | graph key. His trained ear could read the Morse by this time, and as he followed that staccato run of dots and dashes coming so thinly out of the distance it took an effort to maintain that beguiling air of blankness which he now felt to be more than ever an asset to him. “Have the bird here now,” cluttered the distant key. ‘Get word to Comrades Mar- tens and Marinoff in Washington tonight by new code. Federal authorities intercepted courier at border this morning and took him. Still at Platts- burg. . . . Know this kid got entire consignment; but so cleverly disposed of we . . . no connection with Erick- son. . . . And unless we recover. loss of over three millions to Third Inter- nationale. Not wait for Hourovich, for it’s the cream. Kremlin and Winter Palace collections. . . . And Wu Fang says we must go the limit to get. . . seven hours while we've ot the bird in our hand. . . . Will eave ittoWuFang. . . . Forty-three.” 51 Ask for tobacco thats esh from the factory ae tobacco is properly aged, care- fully blended and packed for smoking, the sooner you smoke it the better it is. this is why Tuxedo cartons are dated, showing the last date upon which the tobacco can be sold. Tuxedo is fresh — wherever — whenever, you buy it. buy a tin of fresh Tuxedo today. Smoke a pipeful —and see how good fresh tobacco can be. # © Guaranteed by Pa) INCORPORATES FRESH J, TOBACCO ;

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SATURDAY EVENING POST Pi pe that endures —~ ~in = N the building of ships, as in the erection of homes, industrial plants and great public and private institutions, those who consider the safeguarding of investment values insist upon pipe that en- dures. For, as the years roll by, poor pipe always costs more than its price at the time of installation. It is significant that 64,611 feet of Reading Genuine Wrought Iron Pipe used in reconditioning the S. S. Leviathan, whose first trip, on July 4th, marks an epoch-making event in the history of America’s Merchant Marine. Write for ‘‘ The Ultimate Cost ’’—an illus- trated booklet of interesting facts and figures. * Reading on LveryLength READING IRON COMPANY READING, PA. BRANCH OFFICES Hoston Pittebureb New York Cincinnati Mhiladeciphia (Chicago Hattimore Port Worth Los Angeles World's Largest Manufacturers of Genuine Wrought Iron Pipe READING GUARANTEED GENUINE WROUGHT IRON PIPE | thing more than a tame robin. | pretty well spoiled his night for him, on + | the whole, and he was tired and sick of the } whole | been projected at no wish of his own. If | that comic-opera old Chink wanted any | ridiculous. | narrow-faced Russian finally twisted about denly That was all Laban heard; and even of | that much was incoherent. But he was not so dull-witted as he may have looked at the moment. He was still able to put two and two together, once | those particular numerals had been made plain to him, even though behind them lay a vast hinterland of the unknown and the indecipherable. And if he was the bird | they were exulting over he could at least show them that he intended to be some- They had unsavory mess into which he had information out of him he’d have to have a smoother spokesman than this green- eyed Russian—for Laban was already fixed in his decision that this man was a Rus- sian—who was still so pointedly and so balefully studying him. But Laban could not shake off the impression, on the other hand, that they were awaiting something; that something momentous was in the air about him; that they were merely marking time until that unknown something mani- fested itself. The silence became abysmal. It became It became so absurd that the in his chair, leaned back with a sigh of ex- | asperation and once more confronted tie youth with the unparticipating eyes “You know why you are here?” he sud- half demanded and half asserted, with the exasperation on his face hardening into hate. “I'd prefer hearing you tell me why,” retorted Laban. He thought he smelled fried fish, or per- haps wong ye too, and that sniff of far- away cookery still again reminded him of the fact that he was very hungry. “You carried into this city tonight a package which did not belong to you, a package which was intrusted to you by another,” began his oppressor. “What was in that package?”’ asked the young man on the teakwood chair. ‘We shall come to that later on,” re- torted his enemy, with a flash of anger from his narrowed green eyes. “You seem to be taking your time over it,” announced Laban, marveling at the immobility of the old Chinaman, who during this while had neither spoken nor stirred. “You were sent word to deliver that package to Wu Fang Low here,”’ went on the other, with a gesture tow: ards his blue- clad companion. “Well?” prompted the young man. “It has never been delivered,” slowly enunciated the other “Whose funeral is that?’ Laban, with an effort at oe... lence fell over the room. “Yours,” the Russian finally and slowly asserted; and the venom in his e ye began to worry the young Westerner more than he would have been willing to admit. “Is that a threat?’ he demanded, with a valorous enough showing of anger. “On the contrary,” retorted the sian, “it is merely a prophecy.” His eye met Laban’'s. The significance of his look was not lost on the younger man; and the younger man, resenting that look, was about to put his feelings into words. But he was interrupted in that in- tention by the abrupt entrance into the room of two figures already familiar to him. One was the wide-shouldered giant who had so recently directed him to the house of Wu Fang Low and the other was the mys- terious woman in sables who earlier in the evening had so unexpectedly carried him in her car to the Colbridge. They entered the room arm in arm. But there was small sense of the fraternal in that contact. Laban strongly suspected, in fact, that the big man was really holding the white-faced woman a prisoner there, just as if he had piloted her in between those walls practically against her will. The mo- ment the big man spoke Laban found this suspicion confirmed. ‘Here's the rib you ty ay was the cool announcement to the far from cool- eyed Russian. But it was the woman who spoke next. She spoke angrily and with a crudity which went ill with the sables and the white kid gauntlet gloves. “Cut out this manhandlin’, you big stiff,” she announced to her captor, “or you'll see me rough-housin’ round here quicker’n you're lookin’ for! So cut it out, and cut it out quick!” demanded A si- Rus- July 7,1923 The two men exchanged glances. Then the Russian, after an earnest stare into the immobile face of the Chinaman, nodded his head towards the man standing beside the woman. It must have been a nod of dis- missal, for without a word the sullen giant withdrew his arm, swung about and walked out of the room. The woman looked after him with a sneer of contempt on her face. It was the Russian who spoke sharply to Laban. “Did you ever see this woman before? he demanded. Laban, before he answered, turned and inspected the woman in the sables. He looked her over wonderingly, impressed by both her beauty of face and the air of breeding which even her surrender to anger had not altogether obliterated. “Sure,” he finally retorted. “When and where?” The woman’s short laugh of defiance did not escape the slightly bewildered y , “She very kindly took me for a ride her car,’’ was Laban’s reply. “When?” “‘When I came out of the Grand Central Station tonight—I mean last night.” “And what happened?” Laban had no wish to hurt the feelings. “She kind of mixed me up with her hus- band,”’ he somewhat reluctantly admitted. “What do you mean by that?” “I mean she must have mistaken me for the man she’s married to, or is going to be married to, or something like that,’’ he admitted with a rueful glance at the woman so noncommittally studying his face. “But what happened?” shouted the thin-nosed man at the table end. “Why not consult the lady on that point?”’ equivocated Laban, once more resenting the overcoercive attitude of his interrogator. ‘What did this woman get from you? slowly intoned the Russian, with an air of sustained but sore ly taxed patience. I don’t know as she got anything much from me,” Laban finally admitted. The Russian gestured exasperation with his thin hands. Then he turned sharply to the woman. “Ruzenka,” he said, “*you've double-crossed me, it.” “That’s a lie!” sudden vigor. ‘Then tell me just where I’m wrong,” went on the other, maintaining his equa- nimity with obvious difficulty. “You’re wrong in trying to blackjack out of me something I haven’t got,” was the woman’s retort. “But something you have in your pos- session, and could say even now just where it o “That’s another lie!”’ interrupted the woman, and the two confronted each other for a silent moment, with their glances locked “Listen,” said the Russian at last. ‘You know what happened to Fania Pobloff!”’ “That red-flaggery stuff can't throw a scare into me,” maintained the insolent- eyed woman in the sables. “But when you are bucking us, remem- ber, you are bucking the whole organiza- tion; and that organization now extends over three continents.” “Then why doesn’t it get busy?” taunted the quite unimpressed woman with her contemptuous stare directed towards first the sharp-eyed Russian and then towards the impassive and immobile Celestial behind the black-wooded table. It was at this point that the unexpected happened. The imperturbable sphinx be- hind the table gave utterance, for the first time, to words. There was something startling about that unlooked-for guttural eruption into speech. It impressed Laban as oddly as human speech coming from a statue might have done. “It glet busy velly quick!’’ was the flat- noted and throaty cackle that came from the obese squat figure in its incongruous sheathing of brocaded azure. Laban could never be quite sure how it all began. It came so unheralded, in the first place, and its initial movements, in the second place, seemed so inexplicable to his startled senses. But at the same moment that the woman ducked with incredible quickness before the pistol shot that spat from the volumi- nous blue sleeve of the Celestial, her hand swept under her own equally voluminous Continued on Page 54) ” lady’s more quietly, and you know cried the woman with

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HEY know no rest—the New York and Phila- delphia freighters. “A truck killer,” veteran operators would call the run. Twenty to twenty-two hours a day . . engines rarely cool .. a “breathing spell” at dawn after the all-night grind of 110 miles .. and then hours of starting, stopping, delivering the heavy load and picking up another .. a moment’s pause at the garage . . a fresh driver in the cab . . and once more the all-night journey is under way, whether storm rages or blizzard howls. The oidest of Phillips’ Specials—a fleet of twenty- two Pierce-Arrow Trucks—have survived more than five years of this, four of them having been placed in service early in 1918. In fact, of all the scores of trucks which were placed in New York-Philadelphia service that year, these Pierce- Arrows are the only pioneers on the job today; new trucks have had to replace the others. 4 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST rierce HEAVY DUTY MOTOR TRUCKS These 225,000 mile Prence-ARROWS are the sole survivors Forty and even fifty thousand miles a year is the task of each of Phillips’ trucks. Twenty years’ work crowded into five! Yet these 225,000-mile Pierce-Arrows, propelled bytheir original worm gears, nightly take their places in the two cara- vans, one leaving New York; the other, Philadelphia. ‘ ‘ . Pierce-Arrow Worm-Drive Dual-Valve Trucks are marketed solely upon the basis of profitable perform- ance — not price. Any Pierce-Arrow distributor will be glad to show you how Pierce-Arrow Trucks will do more work — powerfully but quietly — last longer, depreciate slower and operate more economically in your business. Chassis Sizes: 2-ton 3-ton 4-ton 5-ton 6-ton 7%-tor Tractors: 3-ton 5-ton 7¥-ton THE PIERCE-ARROW MOTOR CAR COMPANY Buffalo, New York The worm gear drive, pioneered in America by Pierce-Arrow Trucks, delivers more power to the rear wheels than any other known method, It runs continuously in a bath of oil in a dirt proof water-tight housing. It is silent, trouble-free and du rable. Many Pierce Arrow worm gears ave serving today after 200,000 miles of operation We invite you to see how Pierce-Arrow Trucks are built. Courteous guides will escort you through the factory

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54 LEVIATHAN 1 in theWorld is an Tt ik. second sailing of the S.S. Leviathan to South ampton and Cherbourg as a passenger shipunder the Amer- ican flag will be July 28th. Ihe Leviathan is the largest and most luxurious ship in the world. This incomparable ves sel will sail from New York every three weeks. But the Leviathan is but one of an entire fleet which is unique in the transatlantic service. You should learn about these beautiful and famous American ships yow ships. Other first class liners are: S. S. George Washington 5S. S. President Harding S. S. President Roosevelt One of these ships. sails from New York each Satur- day. In addition, there is a fleet of nine splendid cabin ships—five in the London service and four to Bremen. the blank VOoIV you forget carn about this great fleet, Send in today ul, and information before INFORMATION BLANK To U.S. Shipping Board Information See, B247G Washington, LD. C. send without obligation the U. 8. Govern ng trave! facts, Lam ex io the Orient to South America Please men booklet giv nentering a tnp to Europe “J States Lines New York City the Principal Cities —/ United 45 Broadway Agencies in all Managing Operators for U. 8S. SHIPPING BOARD THE SATURDAY (Continued from Page 52) drapery and seemed to conjure out of thin air a bright-metaled revolver that barked even before she stood upright again. The old Chinaman squealed like a rat as he dropped behind the table, which over- turned as he went down, and from behind which he shot again, at random. The Rus- sian at the same moment leaped for Laban, who fell back towards the door as the woman promptly put a bullet into the elec- tric globe above them, throwing the room into darkness. “Kick out, kid, and kick hard!” he heard her voice call across the blackness as she groped along the wall. “Beat it or they'll knife you in the back!” Then Laban ducked low, for a revolver was barking again through the gloom. He doubled back when he heard a call and shout immediately in front of him, tumbled over an rs / chair, twisted about and caught it up. He advanced, flailing the air as he ran forward, collided with somethin soft and yielding, struck blindly, and troc over a fat and silk-clad arm as he ran for- ward. All he asked for was to escape, to break away from those imprisoning walls which were now ringing with unintelligible curses and cries of warning. Then came a sound of breaking glass, the remoter shrill | of a police whistle and the spurt of a match quickly lighted and shaken out again, not six paces away from him. Laban, before ducking and side-stepping in that momentary illumination which pre- luded another short tattoo of pistol shots, | caught sight of an ies soens in the | wall. He ran towards it, bending low, and as he pushed through it, with no knowledge whatever whither it led, his outstretched hand came into contact with the fur, warm and moving, of a wild animal. He at least took it to be a wild animal for a foolish mo- ment or two. It was not until he had called out, without being conscious of the act, that he found this furred monstrosity to be merely the woman in the sables, pressed flat against the passage wall. She must have recognized him by that sound, for she gave a little hiss of warning through the darkness. He could feel her moving closer beside him. “Get that panel shut,” she whispered. | “It locks on this side.” She was quicker than he was, however, to find and close what must have been a secret opening in the wall. The next mo- ment, in fact, she was feeling for him in the | ingulfing blackness. “Hurry up!” she said with a half-tired matter-of-factness as they started forward | along the narrow passage. They turned twice, ran down a short flight of steps, turned again, and passed through a door into another passage. This passage was larger and lighted by three electric bulbs strung along the boarded ceiling. Laban saw, as they advanced, that it branched into two. “This way is quickest,” said the woman, turning to the right. Yet she hesitated, with a frown of troubled thought on her face. Whatever scruples she may have nursed, however, she quickly overcame, for the next moment she was | leading him down the passage at the end of which swung a somber black portiére, and she hissed again for silence as they went. Yet she stopped short before that swing- | ing portiére, with the frown of trouble once | more on her face. She looked at Laban and still again studied the portiére. Then, | without saying a word, she quietly took | from the youth’s head the hat which he | still wore. She motioned him back with one | hand as with the other she held the hat be- tween her fingers by the brim. She held it | with an air of extreme fastidiousness, which puzzled its owner, as though it were some- | thing infected and to be avoided. She still held it in that manner, at arm’s length, as she slowly and softly pressed it against the folds of the hanging portiére. Laban was still puzzled over the possible | meaning of that tableau when the swaying black drapery beneath the outthrust hat was punctuated by a thin flash of light. It was a flash that lasted only for a second or two, and it had actually come and gone before Laban woke up to its actual mean- ing. For that stab of light had been a blade of polished steel, half as long as his arm, thrust silently through the swaying cur- tain. It was as thin and pointed as a ran- seur shaft, slightly curved like a Turkish saber, tapering to a thinness that carried an incredible air of malignity about its twisted point. And there was malignity, too, in the | way it had struck, as quick and silent as an EVENING POST adder’s fang, through the screening folds of cloth, and had as silently withdrawn itself. It gave Laban a chill as he fell back an involuntary step or two. The woman fol- lowed him, with the tip of one finger pressed against her lip for silence. “That was meant for us,” she whispered as they fell back to the point where the other passage switched off to the left; and after a short glance over her shoulder she hurried him down this passage, where she found a ring in the floor, raised a trap and motioned him down a flight of steps. They were in a subcellar by this time, amazingly close-packed with woven-grass bales and piles of glazed crockery and what seemed to be cases of Oriental household utensils. Laban, as he followed the woman, stum- bled over a heavy bronze lamp standard. His guide, at the sound, hissed softly for silence, but stopped him a moment later with a hand on fe arm. “Bring that along,” she whispered. “There’s a lock ahead of us here you'll have to break.” He groped about for the cumbersome bit of bronze, found it, and caught up with the woman, who was padding about a heavy door. “Here!"’ she whispered, directing his hand towards a protuberant metal lock. “Smash it!” It was massive enough, but one blow tore away the screws that held it to its mildewed wooden sash; and they were through the door the next moment and climbing a steep flight of steps, from which they turned at right angles down a wooden-boarded pas- sageway faintly redolent with the odors of cooking food. At the end of this corridor they were confronted by a young Chinaman in a soiled white tunic, carrying a wooden tray piled high with fresh-gutted fish. “Fut us through, Tom,” said the woman, tossing him a silver dollar. The Chinaman, without speech or hesi- tation, conjured the disk of silver into his sleeve, balanced his tray on one hip, and with his free hand unlocked a small door which opened into a washroom heavy with ammoniacal odors and gray with cigarette smoke. Laban followed the woman through this room, and was conscious the next moment of a sudden violent hubbub of contending noises. As she swung the farther door open he caught the relieving sound of clattering dishes and music and many voices. He knew, even before they rounded the black- and-gold screen ambuscading that door, that they had emerged into a Chinatown eating room crowded with its midnight patrons. Laban saw a high-studded room stippled with crowded tables between which ot skinned waiters came and went. The air was blue with smoke, and many-colored lights twinkled about the walls decorated with imitation wistaria made of gayly dyed cotton. Ona platform in a partly curtained alcove five garishly appareled Chinamen played five different instruments of musical intent, one a three-string banjo with a double head, another a mallet-shaped alto BY A. PADDIBON, BAU GALLIE, FLORIDA An Eagie's Nest PHOTO July 7,1925 violin scraped with a bow of horsehair, an- other a drum entirely without resonance, another a moon-shaped sort of mandolin, and still another a long-handled two-string fiddle. They chanted as they played, but their music was not loud enough to drown the stream of talk from the crowded tables, where chicken and chow mein and rice and shark fin were being so busily washed down with park nor mi and plum-blossom tea. At the front end of the room stood a cluster of men and women, street girls and sailors, students and slummers, old gentlemen and officers and women in opera cloaks, waiting for seats. “The quicker you lose yourself in that bunch the better,’”’ Laban’s guide was say- ing to him, unconscious of the relish with which he was eying the passing trays loaded with suey and foo yung high. “But how about you?” he asked, study- ing her face, which looked a trifle tired and flat even in that modified light. “Don’t worry about me, kid,” she said with a curt laugh. “But you make your duck out o’ here while the ducking is good!” He started to thank her, but she cut him short. “Beat it!”’ she said under her breath as she gathered up her skirts and began to shoulder along one of the crowded aisles to an alcove, where a ruddy-cheeked old gen- tleman in evening dress was sedulously at- tempting to teach what was apparently his grandson, in the uniform of a West Pointer, how to manipulate a pair of chop sticks. So Laban did as he was told. He elbowed in through that waiting crowd. He dipped into that crowd and emerged again just in time to encounter the cicerone of the sight- seeing bus leading his docile charges in through the gaudily festooned doorway and indulging them in a fleeting glimpse of one of Chinatown’s most popular chow houses. Laban made for that line with the feeling of an exile heading for home. The dull- eyed barker greeted him with a recognizing eye, but did not address that strayed rev- eler until the completion of his official peroration on the Lotus Blossom Café. “How'd you come to drop out of the arty, bub?” he asked as he indifferently erded his people back to the comfortably canopied wagon with its tiers of hospitable- looking seats. Laban laughed, but it was laughter without a great deal of mirth in it. “I kird of got lost in the shuffle back there a »it.’” he noncommittally announced “Then you've sure been missin’ the best of your night’s show,” averred the inter- preter of the underworld as he swung aboard his wagon. “Oh, I’ve been wandering into a little show of my own,” Laban indifferently ac- knowledged as he watched the last of the sight-seers clamber wearily aboard. He drew a deep sigh of relief, however, as he caught hold of the iron handrail to swing in after them. He glanced carelessly up to make sure of his space. His right foot was still resting on the curb as he looked, and for one motionless moment it remained there. For on the far end of the seat on which he had proposed to perch himself he caught sight of a big man with a bony face and a chest like a gorilia, and that impassive bony face under the lowered black hat brim was only too familiar to him. His hand was still on the iron rail as he felt the car move forward. But his hold on that rail promptly relaxed and he ducked and slithered across the narrow street as the omnibus gathered speed. He ducked in between a row of parked cars along the opposite curb, pressed on with his eyes still turned back towards the swaying omnibus, and without once stopping rounded the next corner. His walk was quickened into a run by this time, and he no longer tarried to look back. He raced on, with no sense of direc- tion and no clear-cut thought of destina- tion. But he longed for the water front as a harassed amphibian longs for the element that most readily harbors and hides its movements. He was sane enough to ob- serve that the general slope of the terrain which he traversed was downward. This, he knew, meant he was at least wearing nearer and nearer the East River. He slowed down to a walk when he emerged into a side street more crowded with life, circled three sides of an irregular block, and once more followed the slope down towards the water front. (TO BE CONCLUDED)

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Most remarkable of all Flyosan kills all these insects but is absolutely non-poisonous to human beings or animals. Think what this means if there are children or pets in the house! A can of Fiyosan is year ’round insurance against bugs and insects. Get a guaranteed can today. wi Ree Most drug, grocery and hardware stores have Flyosan. If yours do not we will mail you a complete outfit (pint can and sprayer) for $1.00 ($1.25 west of the Rockies and Canada). If Flyosan does not do all we claim for it we will refund the purchase price without question. ae yy COLONIAL CHEMICAL CORPORATION, Reading, Pa. Colonial Chemical Corporation, Ltd. 146 Breck Avenue Toronto, Canada rlyOsan SAFE INSECTICIDE KILLS FLIES BY THE ROOMFUL —MOSQUITOES, TOO epyright (923, Colomal Chomseal Cor PRICES: Pint s Pi Quart 1.25 Vp-Gallon2.25 Gallon 4.00 Introductory Package 1.00 (pint and sprayer) (West of Rockies and Canade) $1.25 poration | tovaryt | horn, | formula never varied. He promised to sub- | danced wel | danced. Jock’s chief and mummy began EVENING POST July 7,1925 THE GREATEST GIFT (Continued from Page 30) has brought some good business to us, I was surprised to hear that he belonged to the Yorick.”’ As he spoke he looked sharply at Daphne. That yous lady serunpel iunotaly, “ Does h ‘Just ae dinner Sir Claude Van- sittart rang me up. He, too, belongs to the Yorick. He asked me very civilly if i could let him have penne McAlpine. He is pre- pared to pay him a salary which I consider preposterous. But this is the amazing thing: age om hasn’t jumped at the offer. He told Vansittart that 4 preferred to remain with us. But, really, he is under no obligation at all to remain with us.” Daphne smiled. “He must be clever, daddy, to have hid- den his cleverness from you.” Jock’s chief was delicately flattered. He reflected that little Daphne had inherited sharp wits, not from her mother. shall have a word with him.” “You won't let him go?” “I’m in a bit of a hole. Vansittart is a shrewd judge of men. Why does he want this boy?” “ Bo ? ” “Hardly five and twenty. there it is.” Daphne said brightly, “If you keep him you must raise his salary.” Mr. Corlyn grunted. Later, alone with his wife, he touched upon the same subject, approaching it from a different angle: It seems, mummy, that our Daphne mo Captain Vicary to propose young cAlpine at the Yorick. t dinner, the little baggage pretended that she knew nothing about it. But she thinks the boy clever. Now where are we? You don’t know, nor do I. Daffy has brains.” “I’m sure that dear Iris and Daisy —— “Tchah! Iris is hardly more than a flapper. Daisy, poor dear, is a sort of Alice- Sit-by-the-Fire. Nobody ever gets a word out of her. What? Sweet? I never said she wasn’t. Well, I must get to the bottom of this.” On the morrow Mr. Corlyn sent for Jock. Jock surprised him, inasmuch as he refused flatly to leave Corlyn & Co. Daffy’s father may or may not have surprised Jock. In the end compromise was achieved. A small salary was raised and a higher commission offered and accepted. Jock assigned all credit to the goddess Fortune. He said to himself, wonderingly, “ My stock seems to be booming.” However, u T WENT on booming. Jock’s chief knew what was paid to Jock, over and above a salary, in commissions. And he | wondered how Jock worked this remuner- | ative outside business. Of course, our Corinthians, Tom and Jerry, did the work- ing with their voluble tongues. Jock made | no attempt, direct or indirect, to secure new | clients for his people. | to him. They fell upon his honest head | like dew from heaven. | lively set at the Yorick it became known New clients came Among a certain that young McAlpine had a nose. Meta- phewealiy, he never blew it. He never- @metaphor—tooted his own little He refused to talk business. His mit a list. Tom Vicary said with a cheerful grin, | “You must think an awful lot, Jock.” Everybody called him Jock index of popularity in a club. Meanwhile Daphne was baving he- | no surer | with him. She had seen him play football. | That accounted for much. | commercial instincts counted for more. But inherited Daphne adored success. Success to her | included a fine car, jewels and constant | change of scene and frocks. Jock accom- panied Daphne to select night clubs. He , and he didn’t chatter when he to smell orange blossoms. “Does Daffy want this young fellow?” Mummy was of opinion that she did. Knowing her daughter, she ventured to affirm that if Daffy wanted him she would get him. Jock's chief pursed up dubious ips. “T can’t size him up, my dear. He's honest as the day, a clean boy, and he seems to know the right people; but he won’t talk. I’m told fe’ 8 good at games—tennis and all that. He doesn’t, strictly between ' ourselves, earn his increased salary; but, damn it, he does earn his commissions. That is indisputable. Leaving Daffy out —— “You can ’t leave Daffy out if she means to be in.’ “Leaving Daffy out, it might pay me to secure young McAlpine ae “Secure him?” “Let me finish. We might offer this boy a small junior partnership if he can plank down a few thousands. In that case I should be inclined to do without him in the office. He could work, as he has worked, outside. God knows how he does it. But I'll say this for him: He inspires confi- dence. Daffy scares me at times.’ “Daffy knows what she is doing.” “ Liaffy, my dear, is the last young woman I should commend as wife to a poor man. “But if he is going to be rich — Jock’s chief grunted and went his way. At the first convenient moment he said lightly to Jock, ‘Could you lay your hands on a few thousands, my boy, if we offered you a very junior partnership !”’ Jock was stunned. He had five thousand pounds invested long ago by his guardian before Jock came of age. It represented two hundred and fifty a year. When he mentioned, hesitatingly, this modest capital, Jock’s chief said curtly, “Tf it were ten instead of five we might talk business.” Jock left the august presence dazed. But he had made unwittingly a hit with Daffy’s father. Young McAlpine was apparently satis- fied to leave his small capital in a gilt-edged security. Obviously, he was no gambler, and the head of an old-fashioned firm of brokers who had built up a fine business by disregarding the more speculative coun- ters appreciated, perhaps inordinately, the bump of caution. “There really is something in this boy,” he reflected. He had two sons. The sons, educated, perhaps, at the wrong schools, were not in the City. One was ina cavalry regiment; the other had married a rich woman. Jock’s chief wasted valuable time regret- ting that Jock was not his son. At the same time he had misgivings about Daffy. If it had been little Iris, his third daughter, or even Daisy, the sit-by-the-fire —— A week later mummy asaid decisively, “I’m sure that Daffy es made up her mind. Have we made up ours?”’ They hadn’t. Being sensible people, they confronted facts philosophically. It came really to this: Daffy might do worse. “Has he spoken to her?” asked an anx- ious father. “IT don’t think so. him. Daffy understands He is a gentleman.” “Certainly. He belongs to the right Mc- Alpines, but they are impoverished. He has five thousand pounds, his wits and ey no prospects.” fummy smiled. She told herself that father must have been making inquiries quietly. She continued with greater confidence, “TI like him, George.” “Same here.” “Can’t you do something?” He replied irritably, “‘What the devil ean I do?” “You spoke of a junior partnership.” “And you cackled about that to Daffy? You women ——— However You are asking me to weigh in with a check for five thousand pounds.” “I’m doing nothing of the sort. ulous!”’ ‘Let us be perfectly calm. My partners must be considered. I can onal a junior pee for a prospective son-in-law, ut the irreducible minimum is ten thou. Jock has five. If he was tempted to turn it into ten I—I should wash my hands of Ridic- m. “You will do as you think best, George.” vi Pips" in blissful ignorance, went on pop- ol pp in:and out of Lancaster Gate. He acquired the habit. Daffy comman- jee im. He took her to a fancy ball and wore the kilts. That did the trick for Daffy. “You ae to be the chief of your tribe.”’ “*Clan- clan.” “Can you toss the—the—what is it called?” “The caber? I dare say I could if I tried.” (Continued on Page 58)

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ae : ! os THE SATURDAY EVENING POST OU’LL agree the lines are good. The flash of full-nickeled bumpers front and rear; nickeled radiator and motometer ; nickeled barrel-type head and side lamps adds distinction. Trunk and trunk rack, at rear, against nickeled body guard-rails, are smart, and useful. There’s an extra cord tire, tube, rim and cover, carried forward at left. Cow] ventilator. Adjustable sun and storm visor. Automatic windshield wiper. Rear-view mirror. Combi- nation tail and stop-light. Smart upholstery. Taffeta shades at windows. Dome light. Hand- some fittings. Heater. Not a thing to buy but gas and oil. Your family are comfortable in this Jewett whatever the weather. All side windows close easily—and tight—when the sudden storm breaks; open wide when balmy weather in- vites. Snug as your home—invigorating as an oes car— whichever suits your whim. dut it’s when you sit behind the w heel, go through the gears and gently touch the ac- celerator that youget the realthrill of Jewett’s performance. Women love it in action. The Paige-type clutch and transmission insure quiet, easy gear-shifting; it is almost impossi- ble to‘clash”’ or jerk the car. And there’s full fifty horsepower waiting the touch of dainty JEWE PAIGE BUILT Jewett Special Sedan—Per fectly Equipped Comfort Adaptable to Every Need slipper on the accelerator. Jewett six popular- ity shows that sixes do beat fours in the opinion of thousands of satisfied Jewett owners. Drive from 2 to 60 miles an hour in high -crawl along behind exasperating teams— then breeze quickly ahead when the opening comes. For Jewett accelerates from §to2s miles an hour in 7 seconds in high gear. Up most any hill on high—fast or slow. Truly, Jewett Sedan is the sedan with ‘‘open-car” performance. Owners have every confidence in Jewett due to its Paige-built motor, Paige-Timken axles front and rear; ball-bearing steering spindles; all-steel universal joints with sealed- in lubrication—good tor 15,000 mileswithout oiling—without “back-lash”’ or rattles. And,withall Jewett’s pepand power, itstays good! Thousands of miles of silent, smooth running, because of the high-pressure, hollow crank-shaft oiling system which forces 2 gal- lons of oil per minute through all main and connecting rod bearings. Long life is sure with such construction! Jewett comes to you with this distinction— it is the on/y car of its class made by a builder of finest quality cars! You will sense the con- fidence this gives when you and your family have your demonstration. on

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They are not Keds unless the name Keds is on the shoe One of the me all-purpos ‘Kee om "His hand lo dels—brown white THE SATURDAY

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EVENING POST (Continued from Page 56) “T believe you could do anything — if you tried. Daddy believes in you.” “He can’t.” “He does, and so do I. Perhaps daddy, poor dear, doesn’t really understand you as—-as I do. Your silence, for instance, is far more eloquent to me than speech. I respect your silence; I do, indeed. So does mummy. “All the same, silence, after—well, after a reasonable time, is how shall I put it? yes, unreasonable.” Her laughter tinkled deliciously. Jock stared at her piquant face, not entirely innocent of make-up. Words, long sup- pressed, came to hire slowly. “IT think I cateh on.” “I’m quite sure you do.” “All you people have been most awfully jolly and—er—friendly.” “Exactly. If you were not so modest, you mlghte sum‘up daddy’s attitude towards you as—-as encouraging.” “It is,” admitted Jock earnestly. “‘And that is what boils me. He doesn’t ask the other fellows to his house—good chaps too.” “They are not quite in your class, are they?” “But your father—I had a knock-out the other day. Without any sort of sug- gestion from me, he ~he hinted at a junior partnership. Why? “You can’t guess yy?” “Tm re if I con! I beg your par- guy eons “Not at all@ You can take this from me: Daddy alwaysjnows where he’s ut. Daddy wants you as aunior partner. Mind you, he wouldn’t wa¥t you unless you had made good. You havé made good. Now-—you ought to go ahead full speed.”’ She gazed at him beguilin gly. Jock blushed. His pleasant voice sank to a whisper. “I say, you tell me what to do and I'll do it. I’m a mug. But I know what I want. And I want it-—-desperately., It never occurred to me that your fathertiad spotted something that, honestly, I hagdly dared to think about except in—ing’my wildest dreams.” ? Daffy glanced about her. The A Hall is not exactly a backwater of Thames. Couples were all about t Being a true daughter of Eve, she ¢ sidered time and place. But she was blushing as she whispered: “T will tell you what to do. Be as frank with daddy as you have been with me. See him, if you can, after luncheon. He's at his best then. I predict confidently that all will be well. Toujours de l’audace!” “ Toujours de Canes !” repeated a youth whose face was wreathed with smiles. vil HE fateful interview did take place next day, after luncheon, in the chief's sacrosanct office. Jock soaped the ways by introducing a new client who asked for a sound lockup. “He doesn’t consider dividends, sir. He is making a big income. He fancies, so he tells me, land schemes. He’s just laid down a bin of 1920 port. He’s that sort of chap.” The chief smiled encouragingly. “Well, McAlpine, we must find some- thing which will mature with the port. Is that all today?” “No, sir; if you could spare me five min- utes on—on a very private matter 4g “Certainly. Try that cigar. Carry on!” This was a counsel of perfection. Jock iit a cigar and thought of Tom Vicary’s powers of speech. He began, for a novice, not too badly. “You have been very kind tome, sir - A busy man reflected that cackle might be judiciously cut. He knew what Jock wanted, and thought the better of him be- cause he rode slow at a formidable fence. Accordingly, he said genially: “We like you, my boy. I can make some sort of guess at this very private matter. It concerns you” ~Jock nodded solemnly “and somebody belonging, temporarily, to me?” ” July 7, 1923 “Yes, sir. But I shouldn’t have had the cheek to to 39 “No, no! But let us take it that you have received encouragement from me and—her.” “It’s quite astounding, but it’s true. And yet if —if you ask me bang out whether I can support a wife, a wife—er—ac- customed to Lancaster Gate, the answer is a-—-lemon.” Daffy’s father lay back in his chair and laughed Homerically. Jock’s candor, his puzzled face, his use of his mother tongue, were irresistibly comic. But he was expect- ing a magnate, who couldn’t be allowed to cool his heels. “My dear boy, to allay all these natural misgivings of yours, I think we must take you into partnership. You have a way with you. I can’t help being personal, but Nature seems to have inscribed upon your face unmistakable credentials. Pass, friend! I take you as I find you. Has she taken you?” “Bless her, she has!’’ “Blessings in this case seem to be in order, You had better have an afternoon off, unless you prefer to use the telephone.” “Ever so many thanks, sir. She-— she will be quite as surprised as I am.” This was tor much for Daffy’s father. He sat up in hi chair, staring at Jock. Then he said slowly, “Ought I to warn you?” “Warn me?” “Obviously, I ought. You have chosen a young woman much more wide awake than Iam. She can give me seven pounds over any course, outside the city, and romp home. I have never bossed my girls. | have always hoped that they would choose the right sort when the right sort came along. “But this young woman is never sur- prised at anything. She picked you before the flag dropped. She meant to have you from the word go. My one fear is this: Can you stay her course?”’ “What course?” asked Jock. Daffy’s father replied tvstily: ‘‘ You've been over it. Embassy iub, Grafton Gal leries, Albert Hall. Keep a-moving! She may se ttle down. Sorsue of ’em don’t.” “We've talked a ul that over.” “You have, hey “Again and a We thought of a e ry small house at Woking, near the go!f &urse. We shall start with a brace of serv- ants. ‘S#»’ll make her own frocks.” “What? You tell me, her father, that Daffy*is going to make her own frocks?” “Good Lord, no! Daffy is a flyer. There seems to be some extraordinary mistake I want to marry— Daisy.” “Daisy?” Daffy’s father looked apoplectic. His chin and cheeks above too tight a collar grew purple. But joy seldom kills. It was so exactly right that Jock should marry Daisy. And yet Daffy, his masterful child, seemed to forbid the banns. As Jock said nothing, Daffy’s father was forced into ill-considered speech. “Never have I seen you making up to Daisy —never!”’ “We were jolly careful,’’ mumbled Jock “Young man, you have made the run- ning, hot and hot, with Daphne. You will have to settle with Daphne. I don’t envy you. You will need a week off to make your peace with her. I tell you, the situa- tion is appalling. You appear to have won ray eldest daughter by making love to her sister.” Jock said helplessly, ‘“‘ Daffy was in the know from the first.” A pert office boy appeared. “Sir Claude Vansittart, sir, by appoint ment.” “Certainly. Show Sir Claude up in one minute.” Daisy’s father shook Jock’s hand. “You will have to attend to the outside business, Jock. Your silent methods are utterly beyond me, but somehow you get there. Sir Claude is here through you. It may lead to a lot of underwriting. Now hop it!” Jock hopped it.

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST

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Bristol Steel Shafted Clubs can be purchased in all good golf departments, They are supplied by The Crawford, McGregor & Canby Co., Dayton, Ohio; A. G. Spalding & Bros., New York; Thos. E.Wilson& Co.,Chicago; The Burke Golf Co., Newark,Ohio; ind The Hillerich & Bradsby Co., Louisville, Ky. The Horton Mfg. Co. Bristol, Conn. Steel Fishing Rods Bristol Steel Fishing Rods, Meek and Blue Grass Reels and Kingfisher Silk Fishing Lines are manufactured by the same com- pany which makes the Bristol Steel Golf Shaft, If you want the best in tackle, demand these three. They have long been the leaders, known by fishermen everywhere. Bristol, Meek and Kingfisher Fish- ing Catalogs sent free on request. | Yolanda—before she was ill a> THE SATURDAY EVENING POST July 7, 1923 SINCE THE DAYS OF JACOB “IT don’t know how Mary will take it.” “T believe she will be happy to know that Iam happy. She's like that.” He was dubious. “Tt will be a great shock.” She had a moment of high indignation. But she did not voice it. Wallace had al- ways had his mind on Mary. In all the years he had never thought of Sue. The next morning Yolanda did not come down to breakfast; and Sue, going up at nine, found her niece having an orange, dry toast and a cup of coffee in bed. She was wrapped inadequately in a thin blue neg- ligee. ett is a heavenly morning,” Sue said. “You ought to be out of doors, dearest.” “T'll take a swim before lunch.” “Is there anything I can do for you in town?” “Are you going in? So am I. Stuart will drive me. We'll have room for you if you'd like to go with us.” Sue hesitated. “T had hoped you wouldn't mind staying with your mother. My engagement in Boston is important. Can't you plan for some other day?” “Why should I? Mother won’t care if we are both away.” “TI think she might. You see, yesterday your young friends took up so much of your time; and she wants to hear about—every- thing.” “Why can’t she hear about everything this morning? I’ll go in presently and talk to her.” “The doctor doesn’t want her disturbed so early. Her nights are very hard.” Yolanda’s voice was impatient. “But, Aunt Sue, we can’t key our lives to mother’s demands,”’ “But we must think of her, Yolanda.” “Oh,” Yolanda flung out, ‘‘that’s the trouble with your generation! You adore self-sacrifice.” A deep flush stained Sue’s cheeks. “We don’t adore it. But we can’t all go our own way and forget what your mother did for the rest of us.” “We don’t forget. I love mother a lot. But we may as well be sane about it. Her life is no more important than your life or mine.” “Her happiness is more important’ — steadily—“‘her peace of mind. Except for us she = nothing. We have all the world outside. She has just that narrow room.” “Don’t you think,” said Yolanda judi- | cially, “that we are apt to stress too much | the dark side of a life like that? Mother | has her little pleasures. In a way, they fill her life.” “Tf you had known her as I knew her, the vividness of her. Do you think this is easy?”’ “T didn’t say it was easv, did 1? Only that we mustn't stress the dark side too much.” She stretched her slim arms above her head. “Oh, don’t let’s argue. We'll both go to Boston, and come back with oodles of news, and mother will eat it up. You see if she doesn’t.” Y olanda’s fingers were busy with the silk handkerchief which banded her brows. She , took it off. Her hair showed sleek and shin- | ing as a frame for her porcelain-tinted face. “‘Tt’s the new Spanish effect,”’ she said, | and slipped at once a from further discussion. “‘Give me my ha nd glass, will you, Aunt Sue? . . . Lam going to wear jade earrings and a jade green dress at the yacht-club dance.” “T am not sure that I like you in ear- rings.” Sue was helpless before such insouciance. “You'd look lovely in them yourself.” Yolanda got out of bed, rummaged in a drawer and produced the long green drops. “Try them on.” Sue protested, ‘I'd look silly.” But Yolanda had made up her mind, and presently Sue saw her own somewhat glori- | fied image in the long glass. “I told you so,”’ said Yolanda trium- | phantly. ‘‘Aren’t they spiffy?” The two of them motored into Boston | that afternoon with Stuart Dudley. Sue | had a feeling that she was deserting Mary, | but Yolanda had simply swept her along on | the tide of her own conviction that it was | the thing to do. She was to see Christopher, for the first | time, in his office at the end of the long pier. — were to have tea together, and she would return alone in time for dinner. (Continued from Page 19) Stuart dropped her in front of one of the big shops on Tremont Street, and from there she took a taxi. Christopher stood pen ge | for her when she reached the pier, and when she saw him her heart jum in that queer way that it had when she was much moved. With the door of his office shut against the world, Christopher welcomed the lady of his heart. There was gray in his curly hair and lines in his bronzed countenance, but no young lover could have overmatched the passion in his voice as he said, “‘You are here—mine. Oh, Sue, my dear girl, how I have dreamed of it!” He showed her everything; the old furni- ture which had belonged to his grandfather in the days when sailing vessels had brought cargoes of spices and teas. On the walls were models of ships, boxed, with glass over them. There were quaint old compasses, brass spyglasses, a ship’s clock that struck the hours. There were, too, the books which had been kept in the grandfather’s neat hand, the diary of Christopher's fa- ther, recounting events when he had served in the Navy during the Civil War. Sue’s own letters were there, hidden in a secret drawer; and it was from this same drawer that Christopher took at last a ring, a great emerald set round with diamonds. His man brought tea to them—a young Scotsman. “This is Alec,” Christopher explained. “He goes with me everywhere. He knows that when I make my next voyage you will sail with me.” “T can’t,” said Alec, smiling, “serve him when he is married any better than I have done. But I can serve him with a gladder heart.”’ It was a hearty tea, and Sue ate with an appetite. She felt like a different woman from the one who had lived for fifteen years in the shadow of asick room. It was, she thought whimsically, as if she had died and was resurrected. And Christopher was saying, “‘ Think of it, my dear! I shall have you through all the years to come!” On the way home in the train she kept a when she would tell Mary. Per- aps tonight. It must not be delayed too long. Wrapped in her thoughts, they had reached the Lynn marshes before she roused herself and saw Wallace sitting a few seats ak-ad of her with Ethel Gray. Ethel had always been a great friend of Mary’s, and Wallace was often at the Grays’. Sue was glad that he could have the relaxation of such good friendship. But always when she saw him with Ethel she was clutched by the fear that had assailed her when he had talked to the night nurse. Then over the enchantment of her afternoon with Christopher dropped once more the dark curtain of her solicitude for Mary. Remembering the old days, Sue's heart seemed to bleed with the tragedy of the difference. Mary’s life and her hus- band’s had once been so closely knit. They had been poor in worldly goods, but rich in understanding. Then, quite suddenly, Wallace’s health had broken. Sue was at college, Yolanda a tiny tot. Mary had at once gone to work. She was a good house- keeper, and so she had opened a tea room in the old town where they had always spent their summers. After a time the thing had paid. Mary’s energy and com- petence had kept Sue at college, and had given Wallace the year in the South that had saved him. The result had been permanent invalid- ism, for Mary. She had overworked, and she collapsed when Wallace came back. Sue gave up all other plans to nurse her sister aud take care of Yolanda. She had no thought of shirking. Life was give and take, and that was the end of it. So she had sent Christopher away. And now she was free. She would tell Mary. And marry Christopher —— After dinner Wallace said, “You won't mind, will you, Sue? Ethel Gray wants me to take a fourth hand at bridge.” Her hesitation was momentary. “T’'ll go up and sit with Mary. Yolanda is going to the yacht-club dance.” “You're sure you don’t mind?” “Of course not.” When she went upstairs her sister was settled for the night, with her window open to the warm soft air, the light low and the moon shining over the harbor. Miss Ram- sey was glad to sit outside on the veranda and leave them alone. Mary was raised a bit on her pillows, a concession to the new strength which had come to her. She was a taller woman than Sue, but she was very thin, and there were deep shadows under her eyes. There was, too, a certain beauty about her that tran- scended Sue’s prettiness. One was aware of a shining serenity. She had suffered much, but she had infinite self-control. The serenity was, therefore, hard earned. Sue sat down beside the bed. “Did you have a good time in Boston?”’ Mary asked. “Oh, yes.” There was a rushing in Sue’s ears. Surely this was the moment to say, “IT am going to marry Christopher How- land. Oh, Mary, aren’t you glad for me? Glad?” But before she could say it, Yolanda swept in, ready for the yacht-club dance. “How do you like me?” she demanded. She wore the green organdie and the jade earrings. A great Spanish comb was stuck at right angles in her shining hair, and she was wrapped in a shawl of embroidered crépe which belonged to her mother. The shawl gave her something of the air of an odalisque, but there was no denying her attractiveness. “Do you like me?” she asked again. “Oh, darling,” Mary said, “I’m not sure. You don’t look in the least like my daugh- ter. But you do look like a very lovely lady in a play.” “Well, why not?’”’ Yolanda demanded. “The thing is to be like myself—not like your daughter.” When Yolanda had gone Mary said, “She isn’t like us, Sue. She has our energy, but not our patience. We had a long talk before she dressed. She told me about her trip to Boston. She went to see a friend who is going to take a course in journalism next winter in New York. Yolanda wants to take the same course.” Sue’s world grew dark. “You mean she wants to go to New York?” “oe Yes.”’ “Why can’t she take the course in Boston?” “She insists that she would be hampered by her nearness to us; that she'd feel like a selfish pig if she didn’t come down for week- ends; that her mind ought to be on her work and on nothing else.” “That's pesoey idiotic,’”’ Sue flung out “‘ As if she had to go away! Why, I should think she’d be glad to be with you for a while!” “Well, I had hoped so.”’ Sue knew that look in Mary’s eyes—of endurance. “I hoped so. But youth is impatient, darling, and Yolanda is only speaking the language of those about her.” “Well, I must say it’s a selfish language. Suppose you had talked the way Yolanda does ——” “Yes, suppose I had.’’ Mary’s voice fell away into silence. “I should have been well,’’ she said at last. Sue was gripped by a sensation almost of horror. To have Mary regretting would be intolerable. The thing that had made Mary’s suffering sacred to all of them had been the knowledge that the sacrifice had been worth while. “How silly,” Mary said, ‘‘to be looking back. And if Yolanda goes I shall still have you and Wallace.” Every bit of strength seemed to go out of Sue’s body. It was clearly impossible to tell Mary at this moment anything about Christopher, So she talked of other things with an effect of lightness, until she realized that Mary had slipped down among her pillows—and that her face was white and pinched. She bent over her sister anx- iously. “Has the pain come back?” “Yes. Perhaps you’d better call Miss Ramsey.” Miss Ramsey, coming in, made a signifi- cant comment: “She hasn’t been well since Miss Yolanda talked to her.” Sue sat alone on the wide porch down- stairs until the moon sailed high. She had a numb feeling. She was cold, yet too inert to wrap herself up. After a while the tele- ie rang. Christopher was at the other Ps - “Sue dear,” he said, “I’ve rather upset- ting news for you. I have to sail on Saturday.” “Saturday! Oh, Christopher!” (Continued on Page 62)

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b&b 7) ° Q o z = z & > f& ~ = Q & ~ b& eq a THE

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST The Bendix Drive The Mechanical Hand” that Ganks Your Car In Rain and Mud no more “hand-cranking! pe, Rain and mud—your Wheels sink—your motor stalls. In the old days you got out in the wet and “cranked” it by hand. Remember? ta Ve Today when your motor stalls you merely press a button and your engine responds. The electric starter brought a new era of easy, convenient depend- able starting. And in this the Bendix Drive renders splendid service. The Bendix Drive is a ‘‘mechanical arm and hand’’, for which your start- ing motor supplies the ‘‘ muscle”’ The Bendix Drive is attached to the armature shaft of your electric start- ing motor where it functions auto- matically as the connecting link be- tween your starting motor and engine. 7 By The Bendix Drive automatically takes hold of your fly wheel—turns your en- gine over—starts it—then automatic- ally ‘‘letsgo’’, and waits until youneed it again. The fact that the Bendix Drive is standard equipment on the electric starters of a majority of the world’s automobiles and trucks is evidence of the need which existed and the efficient, dependable way the Bendix Drive has met it. More than 4,000 dealers and garages mpply genuine service parts for Bendix Drive, Look for the name Bendix” on cach genuine part, BEND (DIX LR VE Standard equipment on the bl Starters of a large majority of the world’s automobiles and trucks Manufactured By Ecripse Macuine Co., Eimira, N. Y. Ecurrse Macwine Company, Lro WALKERVILLE, ONT (Continued from Page 60) | “Yes; the company insists that I get | back to Ceylon as soon as possible. And, | Sue, I won't go without you. We can be married on Saturday morning and leave that night.” “Kit, darling, I can’t!" “You can! fi will be easy enough to get ready. A few trips to the shops, and there you are!” ‘That isn’t all.” “Look here, Sue, it isn’t money, is it? You know that everything I have is yours, and we've waited too long to be conven- tional. I am just crazy to be buying things for you ~your little shoes and lovely hats — “Kit, you must not. It isn’t money.” “Well, what is it?” “Mary. I haven't told her.” “Tell her tonight.” “She isn’t so well. And it’s going to bea | shock.” “But she must hear sometime.” “I know; but she’s had upsetting news.” | She outlined Yolanda’s plan. He was un- | convinced ’ “It is your turn, dearest. Well, we won't argue at long distance, but I’m coming out tomorrow morning and make you say yes.” She hung up the receiver and went back into the living room. Today was Monday. If she married Christopher on Saturday, there would be just four days between! Wallace came in radiant. “Anything to eat?’ he asked. “I am a |! enough to eat a house.” y didn’t Ethel feed you?” “They’ve made a rule not to. Their little group meets twice a week for cards, and they don’t want,the trouble.” “Tt is silly to make rules,” said Sue. She brought from the refrigerator cold lobster, mayonnaise, lettuce. “Want a cup of coffee?” - “T’ll say I do,” Wallace said, and sat down while she made it. She reflected that men were like that— to be waited on. Yet why should she wait on Wallace when her own man wanted her? She was very silent thinking of it. But Wallace did not notice. His mind was busy with his own affairs. “The Grays have iked me to go on a two weeks’ sailing party.’ ad When “Saturday.” “T don’t see how you can, Wallace.” He laid down his fork and looked at her. “Why not?” “Well, Christopher wants me to marry him right away. The company is sendin him back to Ceylon, and he insists that shall go with him.” “And you have agreed?” She faltered. “No; but I hope it may be possible. “Does Mary know?” “No; I intended to tell her tonight, and then I found that Yolanda is making plans to spend next winter in New York.” “What do you mean?” “She is going to study journalism.” His face darkened. **She’ll do nothing of the kind, of course!" “I'm afraid she intends to have her own way, Wallace. And if she does—I can’t | leave Mary.” “You'll give up Christopher?” “Oh, what else can I do?”’ wearily. The droop of her little figure showed her utter depression. Wallace rose, went to the percolator and drew a cup of coffee. When he came back to the table he set the cup down and laid his hand in his sister- -in- law’s. “Cheer up, old girl,’’ he said with an effect of joviality. ‘I'll talk to Yolanda. It’s all poppycock, this plan of hers. She’s got to stay with her mother.” Yolanda and young Dudley came in be- fore Wallace had finished his repast. “We're starved,” Yolanda announced at once. ‘Stuart wanted me to stop and feed somewhere, but I remembered the lobsters in the refrigerator."’ Her eyes were caught by the pink of her father’s plate. “‘I hope you haven't eaten them, dad.” “There are plenty,’’ Sue assured her. “Tim Macy had a big catch this morning and I bought them all.” “You two darlings needn't sit up,” Yo- landa informed her elders when she and Stuart had foraged and had brought back their filled plates. ‘“‘Go and get your | beauty sleep, Aunt Sue.” Sue shook her head. “You can’t get rid of me in that way “We don’t want to get rid of you; Lut I thought it might save you and dad a shock July 7,1925 when Stuart and I sit and hold hands and look at the moon.’ “Yolanda!” her father protested. “He really does it very nicely, dad. Platonic. Her mouth was yrave, but her eyes smiled at young Dudley. The boy laughed, “Tt isn’t half so bad as it sounds, Mr. Hutchinson. And you know what moons are—maddening.” Wailace held up his watch. “Do you know that it is two minutes of midnight? No moons for Yolanda to- night—-or madness.”’ “Oh, of ‘cOurse, if you are going to act like a father in a movie,”’ Yolanda pro- tested. But young Dudley quite light-heartedly gave in “There'll be other moons, Yolanda. I'll go the minute I finish this lobster.” When at last he left, Yolanda went to the door with him. She was gone a long time. When she came in she started up the stairs. “Yolanda,” her father said. She turned. “Yes?” “Come down for a moment. I want to talk to you.” “Oh,’ can’t it wait? I am dead for sleep.”” She patted back a yawn. “No, it can’t wait,”’ shortly. “Oh, well.”” She came languidly down and threw herself into one of the chintz chairs. Apple green and gold, her cheeks pink, her red lips curved in an enchanting line. Sue felt that Yolanda was bored to death to give them this moment which followed the excitement of her parting from Stuart. Wallace flung his challenge at his daughter explosively. “Yolanda, what is this I hear about your going to New York?” Yolanda patted back another yawn. “Well, it’ s the only thing, dad. I can’t She lifted a fold of the apple green gown an an idle finger, her jade earrings sw ung against the white curve of her cheek, “You can see that I’d die, can’t you?” “No, I can’t,”’ shortly. hasn’t died, has she?”’ “Aunt Sue? Oh, well, Aunt Sue has ad- justed herself to it. She and mother are near the same age, and they’re such chums.” “s haven't adjusted = og to it,’”’ Sue declared. ‘I have simply made myself contented because your mother needed me, and it is your turn — “Why is it my turn?’ Yolanda de- manded. “ Why shouldn’ t things go on as they have been?’ “Because, ” said Sue, and found herself flushing, “I want to get married.” “Married?”’ Yolanda sat up; she was not yawning. ‘To whom?” It was Wallace who answered, “To Christopher Howland, head of the big tea company. He’s been in love with her for fifteen years, and she wouldn’ t marry him on account of your mother.” Yolanda gazed at her Aunt Sue with a new interest. “You don’t mean that you wou!dn’t, Aunt Sue!” “How could I? I was needed here.” ** And he wants her to marry him and sail on Saturday,” Wallace further elucidated, **to Ceylon.” “Well, why shouldn't she?” “‘Because,”’ Sue stated, “‘we can’t both leave your mother. She couldn’t stand it.” There were sparks in Yolanda’s eyes. “I think you are utterly mistaken. Mother wouldn’t want either of us to stay if she thought we’d be unhappy. She’s bigger than that. And you are making a mountain out of a molehill, Aunt Sue.” “No,” said Sue, ‘I am not. We owe her a debt we can never pay. And I simply won't break her heart.” “Do you mean if I go to New York, you won ’t get married?” ves.” There was a dead silence out of which Yolanda said, “I am young. I want happi- ness.” “IT was young,” said Sue; “I wanted it.” Yolanda stood up. “Oh, I don’t know what to say! And I’m going to bed.”’ She began to ascend the stairs. ‘I won’t spoil my life for anybody,” was the defiance she flung over the balus- trade. Then she went up, her green draper- ies billowing about her. (Continued on Page 64) “Your Aunt Sue

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THE SATURDAY Hauling away the ASHES T costs $1.20 a ton to haul ashes in many cities—a dead loss. If the coal is not only high in ash but dirty, full of non-combustible impurities that could have been removed at the mine, there is more haulage, more loss. Because it is clean bituminous coal, made so through the elimination of extraneous ash contents, Consolida- tion Coal has made a reputation for economy with manufacturers and other large users of coal. The list of Consolidation customers includes many of the names that have made American industry great. Consolidation Coal is glean Coal THE CONSOLIDATION COAL COMPANY INCORPORATED , Munson val - New York Gity WASHINGTON, D.C. Union Trust Bldg CHICAGO, ILL. Illinois Merchants Bank Bldg CINCINNATI, OHIO Union Central Bldg. ROANOKE, VA. First Nat'l Bank Bldg ’ CLEVELAND, OHIO Kirby Bldg MIL WAUKEE, WIs 843 South Canal Streer \ LONDON, ENGLAND, Billiter Sq. Blig (GENOA, ITALY, 10Via Roma if ST. PAUL, MINN. North Western Fuel Co., Merchants Nat'l Bank Bldg MONTREAL, QUEBEC Empire Coal Company, Ltd., Shaughnessy Bldg (GREEN BAY, WIS. F. Hurlbut Company DETROIT, MICH. Firs: Nar’l Bank Bldg PORTSMOUTH, N. H BALTIMORE, MD. BOSTON, MASS PHILADELPHIA, PA Fore gn Offices | herself—and I’ve decided. | I love mother, but I love Stuart more than your lever, then stay with her. | means more, then marry him. That's all | there is to it.’’ | yachts were as still as sleepin | waves were about her. | a light haul- silver. | married Lizzie. | factory, and I’d always | the sea. That's why I lef’ her. EVENING POST (Continued from Page 62) It was a long time that night before Sue | slept, and it was toward morning that she | was waked by a whisper out of the darkness. “Aunt Sue —— “oe Yes? ” “May I sit here and talk to you?” “Yes. Turn on the light.” “No. I want to talk in the dark. Aunt Sue, I’ve got to tell yoy. I want to go to New York because of—Stuart Dudley. You see I care awfully about him, and he lives there.’ **My dear, if he loves you he’ll come to you wherever you are.”’ “No; things aren’t like that in these days. There are so many girls, and so many distractions for a man. And he’s tremen- dously attracted. But if I am out of sight- | oh, well, it might mean that I'd have to give him up. And I couldn’t stand it, Aunt Sue, I couldn’t!” “Surely you wouldn’t want his love if it wasn’t big enough to choose you above all others!” “Oh, that’s old stuff. I do want it. The women of your generation waited for men to find out that they loved them, and some- times the man never found out. We don’t make that mistake; we have a right to our choice. Why shouldn’t we help men to know themselves?”’ Out of the darkness Sue said, “I couldn't do it.” “Of course you couldn’t! But I can; and I’m not going to give Stuart up, Aunt Sue. I don’t want to be selfish and make you stay. But each of us must decide for I love you and anybody else in the whole wide world. I—I am his, Aunt Sue, and that settles it. | And—and you ought to settle it in the same If mother means more to you than way. But if he With that final challenge Yolanda fied. Her youth had spoken. She must have what she wanted, if the world crashed. Sue lay wide awake until the dawn came in at the window. Then she got up, took her bath and dressed. When she went down not even the maids were stirring. She opened the windows and made her way to the top of the bluff. Steps led down to the little pier. She descended them and stood looking out over the harbor. There was a slight haze, and the water had the silver smoothness of a pink pearl. The anchored birds. She unlocked the door of the boathouse, found her oars and untied the knot which held one of the dories, and presently the pink She seemed to breathe again. In the great house that she had left she had been stifled with the weight of the problems under its roof. Rowing towards the south, she came upon Tim Macy drawing in his nets. It was a mass of living, flapping “‘Good mess for breakfast,’’ Tim said as | she stopped to watch. “Yes, but I don’t want them.” She gave a little laugh. “Not to eat. What I want is that you'll let me pay for them and then set them free.” “Free?"’ He stared at her. “Yes. Somehow, on a day !ike this it seems dreadful to get caught in a net.” He grinned. “Life's like that. caught.” Jere you ever caught?”’ she asked him. “Yes, ma’am. I was caught when I She got me to work in a ot my living by I had to live Everybody gettin’ in the way I wanted to.’ “But what happened to—Lizzie?”’ “Oh, I guess she’s livin’ the way she wants. I send her money and she’s spend- in’ it on movies and things. But the don’t git me back to no town; no ma’am.” He paused to ask, “Did you really mean you wanted me to let ‘em go?’ “Yes; I'll pay for the whole lot.” Then as the catch went overboard and the shin- ing, slender bodies flashed and were gone, she drew a deep breath of relief. “It sounds terribly silly to do a thing like that,”’ she said; ‘but I’m glad.” As she pulled away from him there came across the lovely stillness of the morning a faint halloo. She looked over her shoulder and saw Christopher standing on the pier. She rowed in swiftly. “T didn’t expect you before breakfast.” “T couldn't wait.” July 7,19235 He helped her up on the pier, and kissed her. “Oh,” Someone might see us. He drew her into the boathouse. “Is this better?” He was masterfully insistent. “I am going to marry you. You have nothing to say about it. We will go in town and buy your wedding dress today. I saw one in a window—and I’ve ordered your bouquet.” “Kit, dear, I can’t marry you like that.’ “W hy not?” “If Yolanda won’t stay, I must.’ “I don’t see it. You've given ‘fen years tothem. Let them get along without you.” “They can’t.” He stopped her with a sharp question. “Do you think I am going to let it end like this?” As they stood staring at each other hope- lessly there came on the boards outside the soft padding of slippered feet. Yolanda rounded the corner. “Oh,” she said, and smiled “T didn’t know you were here. She was as gay as the morning, in a bath- ing suit of sea blue, with her head tied up in a red handkerchief. Sue had a fleeting thought that the night had not taken its toll of Yolanda. There had been, appar- ently, no vigil. The thing was, as far as Yolanda was concerned, settled. Presenting her lover Sue said, “I told you about Christopher, Yolanda. "He came out from town yesterday, and surprised me.” Yolanda smiled up into Christopher’s eyes “She didn’t looking.”’ They laughed together. ‘I always take a swim in the morning,” Yolanda explained, ‘‘if I wake in time. Aunt Sue, did you know that mother isn’t so well? That’s what got me up. Miss Ramsey telephoned for the doctor.” “Oh, I must go to her.” Sue poised, ready for flight. ‘You'll breakfast with us, Kit?” “Wait a minute”—his hand restrained her—‘‘this is our best chance to talk to Yolanda.” “To me?” Yolanda’s appraising eyes were she protested, “‘you must not! at them, tell me you were so good- stood have upon em. Sue felt that the girl was weighing the potentialities of n.iddle-aged romance in the balance with her own youth and fire. “Yes,”’ Christopher came bluntly to the point; “‘we want to know what you are going to do about it.” “About what?” “Our marriage.”’ Yolanda’s voice was tart. “Aunt Sue is perfectly free to do as she pleases.” “She isn’t free. She has a loving heart. Fifteen years ago I wanted her to marry me—and she wouldn't; and the reason she wouldn’t was because a little girl of five needed a mother, because a sick woman needed a nurse, because a helpless man needed a housekeeper.” Sue tried to stop him. “Christopher!” But he went on, his words like against the wide silence. “She gave up happiness then. If she gives it up again it will be because of the beastly selfishness of the rest of you.’ Yolanda’ s eyes were hot. “7 don’ t see how you blows can say such a Because they are true. Sue says you have told her that your generation likes to face facts. Well, why not face this one that you are the first woman in your family to fail down on your job.” Yolanda's cheeks were scarlet. “Oh ——” she began indignantly, and stopped. He waited. “Well?” he said at last. Yolanda’s head was high, trembled. “You win,” she said. ‘I am not going to have any body say I am not a good sport.’ it seemed to Sue in that moment of sur- render a blight swept across Yolanda’s young beauty, as years ago it had swept across her own. C hristophe r saw it too. “I'm sorry,” he said. Yolanda turned from them. “Don’t!” was the protest she threw over her shoulder sharply. “I am not going to be sorry for myself. If I’ve got to go through with it I shan’t—whine.’ Continued on Page 66) but her lips

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST

» | Sg ai Y ' IT hy rou Should Bi a VHY L0u LOULL Uy , | oa : | Reason No. 10 . © ~ “~e / Largest Output in High Grade Field ARGE output gives the manufacturer a def- inite advantage over his competitors, reflect- ed either in a lower price or a better quality. But in the transportation field higher quality | is more important than lower price. The Aighes¢ i quality gives the purchaser the most for his money. The best is the least expensive in the long run, | and it is the long run which counts; motor trucks must be a long time investment. Owners prefer the high grade truck because it saves them money. { White Trucks have the double advantage of be- ing a highest quality product avd made on a scale which permits unusual economy of manufacture. They have by far the largest output in the high grade field. 9 Users 4now from experience what White Trucks Other Reasons: will do in comparison with others. Their cost 7 yay sheets show it. They have a barometer which The. Truck Itself . registers in dollars and cents. Most Value per Dollar 100,000-M ile Records ! Ownership Roll Call | j rps . > | &§ White Owner Service —<——- fF A Permanent Maker ef The Manufacturer's Policy f Service Above Sales ’ ' a Transportation Eaperience i i | y =) Fa 7% TMZ a THE WHITE COMPANY Cleveland

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66 Cantinued from Page 64) She peaked her white arms above her head and made a straight dive into the shin- ing waters, and presently they saw her, far out, swimming in the path of the sun. It was decided after breakfast that morn- ing it would be best for Wallace to break the news to Mary. Christopher had insisted that the thing be carried through at once. “T want Sue’s mind free. I am going to take her into town this afternoon, There are a thousand things to do.” Wallace glanced et his sister-in-law. They were on the porch, and she sat on the swing- ing seat. She had put on the ring that Christopher had given her, and it seemed the badge of a new order of things. He was aware of her attractiveness as he had never been awarevf it in the years she had been with them. Her charm was added to and emphasized by the fact of the admira- tion of a man like Christopher Howland. Yolanda, who had taken an active part in the discussion, admired the ring. “Emeralds are my favorites.” “Green,” said Christopher, of hope.” He smiled at Yolanda, but he was not quite at ease with her. She was carrying the thing off well, but he still had a feeling that the events of the morning had set their mark on her. She showed, however, no out- ward signs of disturbance. She was glowing after her long swim, her hair spick-and-span with its quaint Spanish effect, her linen frock as fresh and pink as a rose. “Oh, treat mother as a human being,”” had been her advice when Wallace had wondered how he should tell his wife. “Tell her we are all go- ing to dance at Aunt Sue’s wedding — make her think it is high jinks and not a funeral.” “You darling!” whispered They were sitting to- gether on the swinging seat. She squeezed Yo- landa’s Rend Yolanda laughed * Aunt Sue,”’she said, “T'll bet you are worry- ing about me.” “Well, I am.” ‘Don’t , please. When a thing is done, that’s the end of it. Go on and be happy. I haven't a thing on my mind this morning ex- cept the problem of what I am going to wear at your wedding.” ut Sue knew that Yolanda had more on her mind than that, She had on her mind what she would say to young Stuart, and what he would think, and what he would do. Wallace went upstairs, and while they waited, Christopher made out a list of all that they must get in town. He consulted Yolanda. “Sue won't spend half enough on herself, and I want her to have the best.” “There was a wrap in a window on Boylston Street yesterday,”’ Yolanda told him; ‘one of those primrosy things, with a perfect bear of a collar in brown fur. She will look adorable in it on board ship.” So the primrosy wrap went down, and there was to be a straight-line frock to go with it, and shoes and a hat; and there must be an evening gown in bright clear red, heavy with silver, and “But,” Sue kept protesting, grand person.” “You'll look fine and grand,” Christopher assured her, ‘‘ when I get through with you.” “Shall 1?” Sue was listening with only one ear. She wondered what Wallace was saying to Mary And just then Wallace called over the stair rail, ‘Oh, Sue, come up—-and Christo- pher.” So they all went up but Yolanda, and Yolanda sat on the swinging seat and looked out over the shining harbor, and all the light died out-of her eyes. And then, quite unexpectedly, the tears began to run down her cheeks, and she tried to dab them with her handkerchief; but that wasn't enough, so she ran upstairs and stood in the middle of the room with her hands clenched tight until she stopped sobbing, and then she “is the color Sue “Tam nota THE SATURDAY wrung out a cloth in hot water and bathed her face, and she powdered her nose and put on a wide hat which cast concealing shad- ows, and went to meet Aunt Sue, who was calling her. “Oh, your mother wants you, Yolanda. She is so happy to have you stay with her and to know that I am going to marry Cc hristopher.” ‘I told you she was human,” Yolanda said as calmly as if she had never known tears. ‘“‘ You and father have been treating her like a plaster saint in a niche.” They all sat in Mary’s room and talked about it until the day nurse came in and said, ‘You mustn't excite my patient.” And Mary said, “They aren’t exciting me. And my sister is going to be married.” They went downstairs finally, and about twelve o’clock Stuart Dudley came ramp- ing in. ‘olanda, apparently unchanged since he had last seen her, proclaimed the coming event, “‘ Meet the bride and groom! They are going to be married, and sail to ( Yeylon on Saturday. Romance with a big R! “You Win," She Said. “You don’t mean it!” Stuart was as radiant as the morning. “I do mean it!” Well, of all things!" “Congratulate them,” she commanded. Having observed the amenities, Stuart sat down on the swinging seat. “It’s a bit hard on your mother, isn't it? With your Aunt Sue going away—and you?” “I’m not going.” He stared at her. “Not going to New York?” “No, I shall stay here and play the réle of dutiful daughter. I shall sit by the bed- side and read to the sick.” “Yolanda!” Sue protested. “I shall be housekeeper for my father, and mother to myself; and I shall be so much like Aunt Sue that no one will miss her.” For the moment she made of herself something demure and middle-aged. Her dramatization was perfect. They laughed till their eyes were wet. She was getting high comedy out of their tragedy. Which was one way to look at it. Stuart, however, had questions to ask. “Tf you stay, what is going to happen to our plans for a gay and go rgeous winter?’ ““If winter comes’’’—Yolanda tapped out the rhythm with pointed finger tips on his coat sleeve—‘‘can spring far be- hind?’” EVENING POST Stuart caught at her hand. “‘Isn’t she ever serious?” he asked Sue. Three days and three nights, and then the wedding. Days to Sue of being impor- tant and petted and clothed like a princess; nights when she listened at Yolanda’s door, wondering if she had heard the sound of sobbing, but not daring to goin. Only once had she talked with Yolanda about Stuart Dudley. “Why is he staying away?” “TI told him I—didn’t want him. The sooner I get over him the better, Aunt Sue.”’ “But, my dear, why should you get over him, as you call it? Perhaps he cares enough to wait as Christopher did.” Yolanda had turned from the mirror, where she had been trying the effect of a short string of pearls. “T like ’em long,”’ she said; ‘but it is the style to choke yourself.’’ She surveyed Sue thoughtfully. ‘Men aren’t like that in these days. They won't wait for anything. They take a girl or leave her. Stuart would be bored to death to hang on indefinitely; “) am Not Geing to Have Anybody Say I am Not a Good Sport" and it would be harder for me to get used to him, and then have—to give him up.” “Did you tell him, Yolanda, that you had done it for me?”’ Yolanda turned back to the mirror. “Good heavens,” she said, “don’t talk like that! I am simply taking my turn. Christopher said something when he said that, Aunt Sue. And as for Stuart, he’s no Enoch Arden.”’ She shelved the subject. “Do you like my pearls? Or do I look as awful as the queens of England?”’ before the wedding. told Sue So came the day The night - Christopher good-by at the edge of dark. “‘I must go, dearest. There are so many things to do. But after tonight there will be no good-bys, and tomorrow our ship will go sailing under the moon.” When he had left her Sue crossed the harbor in the little ferryboat and went to the Neck. She wanted to say farewell to the sea and the rocks, and to all the loneli- ness that had encompassed her in the years when she had looked out on that empty waste of waters. She sat for a long time, thinking about it. The moon was high and white, the waves splashing languidly on an outgoing tide. There were lights in the houses 1. back of her, the thin echo of music from the yacht club. Except for that, she was alone in the night. July 7, 1923 Then someone entered suddenly on her solitude. In the clear light she saw Stuart Dudley climbing up from the beach. She called to him and he answered at once. “Miss Griffith? Are you all alone?”’ “Yes; I often come. I am not afraid; and tonight I am saying good-by to it all. Does it sound silly?” “No. I’ve been saying good-by too. Iam going back to New York.” “T thought you were coming to my wed- ding.” “T wanted to; tated, then went on hurriedly, fith, what’s the matter with I can’t understand her.” “What is it that you don’t understand?’’ “She seemed to care—and now she sim- ply won’t have anything to do with me. I asked her last night—to marry me, and she says she has to stay with her mother, and that there’s no telling how many years she will be tied—and she won't be tied to me. I said I'd wait, and she said I couldn’t; that men weren’t like that in these days; that it is all old stuff; that the days of romance are dead; that I'd find some other girl and break it off, and it would be easier to do it now. I told her I wasn’t a quitter. But she wouldn’t listen.” “Oh,” Sue said emphatically, should have made her listen !”” wa might. had cared.’ “Can’t you see? It is because she cares so much.’ He flung himself down beside her. ‘*How do you know she cares?” he demanded. “Because she’s afraid. All loving women are afraid when they think of man’s constancy. I was. I used to sit here on the rocks and wonder if another letter would ever come from Kit; and then the letter would come and I would be in seventh heaven—until an- other year was almost over, and then I would be afraid again.’’ She caught herself up. “I have never told this to anyone—not even to Christopher. But I want you to understand Yolanda. She sees things straighter than I. She'd rather suffer a little now than to have you ‘rift away when her life is bound up in you. I know. It would have been easier to lose Christopher in the beginning than in the later years.” “But she has sent me away!” he re- minded her. “‘What can I do?” “T sent my lover away,” said Sue, he never gave me up.” but I can’t.” He hesi- “Miss Grif- Yolanda? “you if she “but The wedding took place at a little church on an old street. Sue and Christopher walked to the chure h, and Sue wore a dress of simple white, with a broad white hat. “T will save all the grandness,”’ she had told Christopher, ‘‘till I get on the ship.” Yolanda, too, was in white. Stuart Dud- ley walked beside her. “You look like a bride,”’ he said. She shrugged her shoulders. “When I am married I am going to have eight bridesmaids and a train that will wiggle-waggle down the aisle.” “When you are married,” Stuart told her, ‘‘you won’t care what you wear. You will be saying in your heart ‘I, Yolanda, take thee, Stuart’’’-—his voice caught fora second, then he went on impetuously, “Yolanda, Yolanda, you can’t put me out of your life! I won't go!” Yolanda tilted up her chin. She tried to say all the light things which were on her lips, but she could not while his eyes were illumined by that look. “T didn’t know,” she began. Then her voice, too, caught. “I didn’t know men were like that in these days.” “Men,” said young Stuart, out of an age- less wisdom, “have been like that since the on ys of Jacob.” hey followed Christopher and his bride into the church. In that other wedding they saw their own. They had youth aod hope. They were in love and unafraid.

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\ | i »! THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Lt tesenty File ‘Really DRIES You can buy Scor Tissue Towels in a dust-proof carton for @c—or at a much lower price by the case of 3750 towels artons Price per case is $6.15 F.O.B. Factory, Chester Pa. Weight 60 It per case. Prices even less for 5, lO and 25 case-lot ship ments Send us your order and we will see that you are supplied promptly. If you need fixtures, we have them moderately priced to meet all requirements in water \ Solves your towel problem You never question the absolute freshness, cleanness and hygienic satety of a Scot Tissue Towel - or who used it last—for what it was used—or with what it was washed You know that a ScotTissue Towel can be used but once—that no hands but yours have touched its spotless surface—that you are certain of a dry, pure, never-before-used towel. Examine a ScotTissue Towel. Note its softness—its cloth-like texture —its generous size. Then try it on your hands and face. You'll be astonished at its quick, powerful absorbency—at the delight- fully cool, refreshing sensation it leaves, especially in hot weather. Whether you buy towels for your personal use—-or in larger quantities for the use of others—you will find ScotTissue Towels as economical as they are superior. They're easy to convenient to use—and the service is flexible. Use as many as you like—or as few as you like Scott Paper Company, Chester, Pa. New York Philadelphia Chicago San Francisco Don't confuse § T inane Towels with harsh, non-« sorbent papertowels. They re as different as silk from bur lap. Every ScotTissue Towel contains millions of the won derful Thirsty Fibres—r thread-like hlaments that a sorb four times their weight Scot lissue Towels for Clean Hands inBusiness~ .......

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New Departure Bearings Used at three vital bearing pointsin the Overland rear ixle alone m where the y add long life and reduce fric ticn to a minimum—the toughest, finest bearings known for the purpose. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST THE POWERFUL OVERLAND ENGINE The big reason the Overland has grown famous for its combination of surprising power and exceptional economy lies in the sound design and fine workmanship of the Overland-built engine. One instance —the cylinders are lapped with a polishing stone as in the most expensive cars, Owners get 20 miles and more to the gallon of gasoline. Engine, clutch and trans- mission are a unit, completely enclosed against mud and dirt. Transmission, selective, sliding-gear type—three speeds forward and reverse. A rugged, simple, efficient, reliable power-plant. THE OVERLAND TRIPLEX SPRINGS The famous big-car comfort of the Overland is due in large part to its ir-genious Triplex Springs, which cradle the car at spring-points 130 inches apart — provide a springbase from 30 to 60 inches longer than any other car in the Overland price class. They pull the front wheels over the bumps instead of pushing them. The result is greater comfort for the passengers and longer life to the car. Triplex Springs are patented and are found on no other car burt Overland. July 7, 1925 Timken Bearings Provided at two points in the Overland rear axle and four pointsin the Overland front axle — bearings that are standard on the finest cars built and add immeas- urably to the staunchness and efficiency of the Overland ‘* “oy, B

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HOUSANDS of salesmen and de- livery drivers in every kind of busi- ness have covered millions and millions of miles in Overlands equipped with the rear axle shown here. They go twenty, twenty-five, thirty thousand miles and more in a year. Road and weather conditions mean nothing to them. They have to get there. They drive a car unmercifully. Not a single one of them has reported a broken rear axle! We believe this record stands alone in the Overland price class. The Overland rear system is built to THE SATURDAY DRIVE AN OVERLAND AND EVENING POST In sending their order for nine new Overland Roadsters, the Peninsular Cigar Company, of Detroit, writes us: “After careful investigation and trial of the Overland and two other makes, we find that we can operate Overlands for considerably less, and that they give us better satisfaction than any other car we have used in the last nine years. The difference is so great that we are adopting the Overland as our standard equipment.” take everything these drivers can give it. Service records as well as comparative tests, measurements and examinations have convinced us that the Overland has the strongest rear axle under any car sold today at or near the Overland price. The tough Mo-lybden-um steel axle shafts, an inch and a half thick at the bearings, are literally impervious to the twisting, wrenching and jolting strains of the roughest kind of service. Throughout, as in its rear axle, the Over- land is sound as a dollar. Its powerful, rugged engine that gives twenty miles and more to the gallon, its famous Triplex Springs (Patented) that REALIZE $525 F.O.B. TOLEDO MILLIONS OF MILES add to the comfort of the passengers and to the life of the car, its all-steel touring body with baked enamel finish, its easy steering and its many other exclusive features combine to render the plus econ- omy and satisfaction you hear voiced by Overland owners everywhere. Ask the Overland dealer in your com- munity to explain all the points of Overland mechanical superiority. Then you will know why Overland is leaping ahead in the greatest year of its history. Wiatys-OverLanpb, Inc., Totepo, Oxn10 Wittys-Overtanp Lrp., Toronto, Ont. Touring $525; Roadster $525; Coupe $795 Se jan $860; Red Bird All prices f. 0. b. Toled hange prices and specifications without notice w ve the right THE DIFFERENCE

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The Standard ‘— we SOMETHING Spring terminal clip permits wire io be instantly detached and reconnected while moter és running. Facilitates tev- dug spark plag and coil Neo nut to be un serewed or losi New electrode design forms a natural drain so that no oil can lodge in spark gap Unscrew this bush- ing and plug comes apart. Notice compact porcelain to withstand hard service Patented CARBON PROOF porcelain Mi its high temper- ature fins attains sufficient heat to burn oil deposits, thus offer- ing effective resistance to carbon AC 1075 Special for Fords o, Ford Drivers THE SATURDAY EVENING POST THE PLACE PIG-ALLEY Continued from Page 13 bid Spark $Me Plug of the World AC TITAN 4 YOU HAVE ALWAYS WANTED Carrying spare plugs without risk of damage is now provided for by the 4C Plug Kit—a com pact, substantial metal box, as illustrated. Obtain yours free, with a set of AC 1075 Specials for Fords, then when your motor misses or performs poorly how convenient it 1s to take your 4C Plug Kit and change all your plugs, instead of losing time to locate the missing cylinder. At your convenience clean and test the removed plugs and put them back into the AC Plug Kit ready for use. Ford engines require the best plugs just as much as others, because a good spark in each cylinder is a necessity in any engine. AC’s answer tc this Special for Fords. need 1s the AC 1075 AC's are standard equipment on most makes of cars, cars such as Apperson, Buick, Cadillac, Case, Chalmers, Chandler, Chevrolet, Cole, Dodge Brothers, Dort, kssex, Haynes, Hudson, Hupmobile, Jewett, Jordan, LaFayette, Mar mon, Maxwell, Nash, Oakland, Oldsmobile, Overland, Paige, R & V Knight, Star, Willys Knight and more than two hundred others. These manufacturers use AC’s because they hav Cc found them the best. kor the same re ason you will find AC 1075 Special for Fords the safest plugs to use. They may cost a trifle more than ordinary plugs for Fords, but built as they are to end most motor ills—see i//ustration -they are more than worth the difference. Put in a set of AC 1075’s—they will give you improved engine performance and easier starting. AC Spark Plug Company, FLINT, -WGchigan U.S, Pat S. Pat. No. 1,216,139, ts Pending No. 1,136,72 7, April 13, tors, t Feb. 13,1917. Other Pate The AC Plug Kit —to carry your spare plugs “Without any money or anything? And they'll be terribly upset. Oh, I've got to find them!” “You haven't any other friends here? Or | wasn’t there some other place they men- tioned where you could meet them?” “Why, no. I mean, I've other friends I've got a cousin who was with us tonight but all my addresses are in a book, and the book’s in a bag, and the bag’s in the apart- ment. And about mentioning some other place-why, nothing else was mentioned except tea at the Ritz tomorrow-—and that’s rather a long time, isn’t it? This is | awfully embarrassing, but I knew I could | trr3t you—-anybody’d know it so There was a pause, during which Martin gave her credit for an absolutely air-tight alibi. “I'll tell you what I'll do,” he said with infinite subtlety: ‘I’m so sure you'll i | find your friends tonight that I'll absolutely guarantee it.”’ She missed his meaning. ‘“‘Oh, I knew | you'd be like that!” | Nearly! She was looking at him with such grateful innocence that, despite his marble facade, Martin almost wavered. But at that in- stant a man’s voice said “‘Mary!” and as Martin turned, the pendulum of his judg- ment swung back to the other end of the arc. The girl had nearly snared him! But her partner, whom she was reeting with every evidence of joy and re- ief —her partner spilled the frijoles! The newcomer was of the type which, in | the Loop or the Tenderloin, would inevita- bly be trade-marked as Gentleman Jim or Silk-Hat Harry. He was a middle-aged person with blue-black jowls and powerful shoulders, and his dress was very striking. In fact, it committed assault and battery upon Martin's conservative taste. His suit of blue serge was inconspicuous enough, but his silk shirt rivaled the spectrum; his spats were tan and his gloves were yellow chamois; the band on his straw hat was blue and orange, and his cravat was set off | by two carats’ worth of sparkling scarfpin. | On his right hand there was a ring of ham- | mered gold which would have served excel- | lently as a brass knuckle; and on his left | there was another diamond slightly smaller than the Koh-i-noor. | thought you'd go there. “Why “What's the big idea, Mary? You had us scared pink. We went back to the flat— This a friend of yours?” Her look to Martin was delicious. he was just going to take care of | me,” | accurate Martin grinned. Magnificent teamwork, timing! He wondered again whether it was poker, green goods, wire tap- ping or genteel blackmail, and bent his ear | for the invitation which was sure to follow. It followed. The man was gazing hard at him. “Why, | say, brother! I met you somewhere before, | didn’t I? Your face’s just as ——- Hold on! Don't you come from the Coast? Lumber concern?” The girl was retrieving her wrap. ‘“‘Why, | no,” said Martin dryly. “There may be a | with me. faint resemblance, but Mr. Addison Sims, of Seattle, is over at one of those other tables.” The man persisted: “No, but I'd swear I've seen you somewhere--and anyhow, if you been takin’ care of Mary you're in solid Put on your hat and come along. This joint’s no good—we got a party. I like your looks. Come on. There’s my | card.” Martin laughed at the crudity of it—and dropped the card on the table. ‘No, | thanks.” The man was plainly disconcerted. “What's the matter you won't?” “Why, nothing—except I’ve got a date with a mattress and a pillow.” ‘Phe man grasped his arm familiarly. ‘‘Oh, come on, brother! Only got one life to live. It’s on me. Won't cost youa cent. Won't you change your mind?” Abruptly Martin lost his temper. Above all else he hated to be selected as an easy | mark; and besides, he was tired, the day | been ver had been disappointing, and the girl had pretty. “No, I won't!” hesnapped. “And if you don’t take your paw off me——or if you call me brother just once more—-I’m going to | knock your block off!” The sociable one recoiled. ‘Say, do you call that nice?” “Go on~ brush by!” “Why, you sweet-scented geranium!" July 7, 1925 “‘On your way! Beat it! I was wise to you before you started!” As the girl came up to them the sociable one seized her. ‘“‘Come on, Mary. Let’s 0. “Why, what’s all this?”’ she asked per- plexedly. “I said come along.” But she freed herself, and while the man stood glowering a few feet distant she spoke to Martin: “I don’t know why he’s so angry with me—it wasn’t my fault; but I honestly thank you just as much as if you’d really taken me home, and had all the trouble you would have had.” When they had gone, Martin, still grin- ning with triumph, lifted the card from the table. The engraving read: Alexander S. Adams, Pres., Ohio Petroleum Products Corpn., Grenoble, Ohio.” He had no recollection of settling his bill or chartering his cab; he wasn’t even con- scious of swift motion over the cobble- stones. At his hotel he allowed himself to be grievously short-changed, and gave the driver an enormous tip in addition. He was literally stunned. His mental faculties had called it a day and knocked off work. He realized, without the necessity of sub- scribing to any correspondence course on salesmanship, that his wild goose was cooked. And to think that Adams, who had been represented to him as so unapproach- able, so inflexible, had made all the over- tures—and for his pains had been offered pater violence! The wild goose had vegged for the privilege of feeding out of Martin’s hand, and Martin had volun- teered to bump him off! What could he say to Mr. Howland? Why hadn’t he been told that Adams was a walkirs panorama of What Smart Men Won’t Wear? And then again, why wouldn't he protect himself against stran- gers in Montmartre? Suppose he had fallen for some gum game, and been roped in by a band of crooks—then what would Howland have said? Martin was patrolling the floor of his room. He wasn’t thinking of his personal loss; he was thinking of Stein, Clay & Co. They had reposed special confidence in him, and he had gypped them. He wanted to jump out of the window; he felt as though there would be some slight con- solation in ending his career as a mess on the pavement. single ray of light penetrated his abysmal glcom. The girl had looked as though she had a sense of humor. She was going to the Ritz tomorrow at teatime. If Martin went there, too, and managed a word with her! If he made her see the funny side of the situation, and made her intercede with her friend He halted. Friend? No. Not in a thou- sand years would a girl like that have made friends with Desperate Desmond. It was her cousin—the cousin she had referred to! “Oh, Lord,” said Martin piously, “if she’s just got a sense of humor!” It was a forlorn prayer, but it was the only sedative he had that night. Almost from the threshold she saw him he had been policing the corridors for an hour—and began to laugh; and at the sound of her laughter Martin, whose spirits had grown old and gray and wrinkled, blushed vividly and snatched at new hope. “‘I knew you'd be here,”’ she said gayly. “‘T knew it as soon as Uncle Aleck told me about your—your conference! I knew you'd be so curious you’d just have to look him up—after you saw his card! And I knew just how you'd feel! So when I remem- bered I said I was coming here ——-”’ Martin’s collar was warranted unshrink- able, but it had certainly become two sizes tighter. “Is he your uncle?” “Oh, no; I just call him that. He’s a third cousin, really. Until yesterday I hadn’t seen him for years. But—well, when he owns about half a county in Ohio, anda bank, and a railroad, and most of the Ohio Petroleum Products, and a factory, and a street-car line, and a lighting plant—and you thought he was a—a bunco steerer and told him to b-brush by or you’d kn-knock his a Martin wasn’t anxious to be reminded of it. “Yes,” he said hastily. ‘I’m the prize goat, all right. But—ahem!—it was like this. -” (Continued on Page 73)

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST July 7,1923 Cliff Durant crossing the desert in his Marmon on a 6-day cross-continent “pleasure trip “On the eve of the 500-Mile Race at Indianapolis when minds are turning to the performance and efficiency of motor cars, | cannot help but think of the really wonderful service which I have obtained from my last two Marmons. “You will remember | took delivery of a new Marmon immediately after the 500-Mile Race last year and six days later I landed in Los Angeles, notwithstanding the fact that | drove very carefully the first three days. This was, of course, the elapsed time. My actual driving time was under five days. It was the most pleasant trip I have ever taker. across the continent. “The smoothest riding, easiest handled car I have ever driven” says CLIFF DURANT, famous race driver *““L can say with utter conviction that both the Marmons | have owned are the smoothest riding, easiest handled road cars I have ever driven, and when I think of the tremendous speeds that | put them to and the hard usage they have undergone, the maintenance cost has been truly remarkable. “I don’t believe | have spent twenty-five dollars on both of them. “If I decide to drive back to the Coast after the Races, | am going to take a new one and | will ask nothing better of it than to equal the perfermance of the last two.’”

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Continued from Page 70) “And what was I?” She could hardly contain herself for mirth. “Still, aren’t in- ternational adventuresses supposed to be perfectly fascinating? Practically irresisti- ble? I’m not peevish; I’m flattered!” Martin cleared his throat. ‘‘ Well, was he—sore?” “Sore? He was perfectly rabid! He was frothing at the mouth right up to the second he took the train.” “Train?” echoed Martin. ‘What train “The Orient Express. For Bukharest.” Martin flinched. “For how long?” “Oh, about a month,” she said carelessly. “‘He’s going down into Bulgaria and Tur- key and maybe Albania. Why? Martin was reasonably quick at mathe- matics. His allowance of time, including transport, had been six weeks. If Uncle Aleck withheld the splendor of his visage and of his scarfpin—for a calendar month Martin was Indianized, anyway, and out of the scrimmage. Then inspiration tumbled oe him from heaven, and Martin grinned. Capitalists like Uncle Aleck, plain citizens like Uncie Aleck, don’t go a-voyaging through the Balkans, out of season, for the sheer pleasure of collecting labels on their suitcases. “Why, just so I could apologize to him sometime,”’ he said slowly. “Oh, I’m glad you want to! You see, Uncle Aleck was sort of the black sheep of the family; I mean he couldn’t stand school and everything, so when he was sixteen he ran away—out West. He wasa cow-puncher and a gold miner, and then, after he made some money, he went back to Ohio, and well, I admit you couldn’: exactly confuse him with a lounge lizard or a Piccadilly Johnny, but he’s the kindest old thing you ever saw—and the friendliest. Just like a puppy dog, W wagging its tail at everybody! They say in business he’s a terror, though but I won’t believe it. And anyway, I’m going to teach him about clothes, and all that—and I can make him do anything I Ww ant him to.’ “Can you?” Martin was introspective. “But if he went off on a business trip like this, he must have left you his itinerary, didn’t he?” “Why, yes,” she said with a little hesita- tion. ‘“‘He did leave a kind of schedule, for the first two weeks, but I’m afraid I can’t let you have it. You see, it isn’t a business trip. He—he just wants to get away, and and not be bothered by anything. He isn’t even going to have any mail forwarded by the bank. So if you were thinking of writing to him I honestly don’t see Why, yes, I do, too! You could write him a note, and I could put it in with one of my own letters, and Marcin didn’t hear the remainder of her discourse. He was thinking ahead. There was no use in trying to hoodwink him. Unele Aleck was an oil man, and he was hot after European oil concessions. His route fairly shrieked it aloud. And like other seekers for the inside track, he naturally wanted to dodge publicity. But to any- one of Martin’s caliber—catch a weasel asleep !—his trail through the Balkans would be a mile wide. And if this girl could be in- duced to operate her boasted drag with Uncle Aleck, even by mail—why, Martin could then track him to the oil fields, and make his solicitation on the spot, with at least a Chinaman’s chance of overhauling his present handicap. He came to himself with a start. your pardon?” ‘I said—my hostess has come, and she’s waiting for me.” “Oh! Well, when can I see you again, and give vou this note? Tomorrow?” “Why, I should think so.” “Why not here?” he proposed auda- ciously. ‘‘At the same time Her eyes were provoc ative. ‘ ‘Truly, now, do you think you know me well enough to invite me to tea so soon—Mr. McKay?” Martin stared at her. ‘‘ How on earth did you find that out? ia “Say, brother,”’ she said confidentially, and in her cousin's style—‘‘say, brother, didn’t I see you somewhere before? Why, sure! Listen, didn’t you play end for the Princetons once? Well, I thought I knew you last night, but I couldn’t place you till this morning.” She discarded U ncle Aleck, and resumed herself. “I used to loathe you,” she said reminiscently, “because you played opposite my perfectly good Yale brother, and you almost spoiled him for- ever. Jack Osborne. But I never met you. Quarter past five? Oh, by the way, my at | beg name’s Osborne too! But maybe have guessed it all by yourself clever!” you'd you're so Beginning impersonally, with Princeton and football, they arrived in record time at their own neuro-psycho-spiritual equa- tions—that is, Martin was outlining his fundamental philosophy to her, and she was having fun with him. She was the first individual to whom he had ever entirely unburdened his cosmos, and he didn’t quite know how it had hap- pene. She must have hypnotized him. At any rate, he told her how, at seven, he had denied Santa Claus, and how nobody had ever put anything over on him since. He explained how, when he went to a theater, he was dumfounded that anyone could pre- tend that the painted canvas was a castle wall the so-called princess was only Maggie Murphy in a paste tiara—and that if she ever came late to the court ball she’d be out of a job in the morning. But instead of pinning bouquets on him, or applauding him—as he had modestly expected— Miss Osborne put both elbows on the table, and went for him, half in earnest, and half in raillery. Asa good salesman Martin egged THE SATURDAY For himself, he always reflected that her on, for his cue was to feed fat her in- | terest in him, but unofficially he was very much irritated. She told him that he ought to have a nurse; and Martin retorted that he gave full permission for the line to form on the | right. He added that flint and steel produce invariable results, but that you can’t strike sparks on mush. “I had two semesters of science myself,” she countered. “So, speaking of sparks, how about a commutator brush? Does it yield a little, or doesn’t it?” Martin side-stepped, which was intelli- gent of him, and referred to biographical history. What sort of man was it, he de- manded, who had left the deepest footprints in the sands of time? “Fat ones!" she said. “The live ones traveled too fast! No, I’m not talking about geniuses; I’m talking about people.” **Sentiment,”’ said Martin, “‘never made anybody a nickel.” She regarded him as though there were something pathetic about him. “Think of it!” she said, subdued. “To think of a man who could be an eagle, wanting to be an ostrich!” When he told her his impression of women, however, she was convulsed. He had used an illustration; when he was twelve his neighborhood had rocked with excitement at the rumor that there was a man somewhere who paid a hundred dollars for a barrel of canceled postage stamps. Every boy except Martin had immediately begun to collect. Well, the mystery of woman was just like that. It was simply an- other rumor, and no better founded. When you got through collecting, you came to life. So that Martin wasn’t a collector ‘““Why, you poor dear!”’ she said impul- sively. “The only reason you weren’t mar- ried at nineteen is because nobody wanted you enough! You make believe you're so hard-headed and practical, but it’s just a pose! Why, if any woman really wanted you, you'd be as defenseless as a kitten!” ‘The deuce I would!” said Martin stoutly. ‘I tell you, they can’t fool me.” She laughed, and glanced at her wrist watch. “Oh, my goodness! I’ve got to run! Did you bring that note for Uncle Aleck?” The note, purified by nine revisions, was in Martin’s pocket, but as his fingers touched it he had another inspiration. He affected uncertainty, bewilderment, and — chagrin. “ Well, that’s mighty pecul- iar,” he said. “I must have left it in the am, It’s all done; I just forgot to bring it. I’ll have to send it to you. Or if I could leav e it at your apartme nt tomorrow after- noon? Say, about five? She said that he could leave it if he liked; and Martin took her home in a taxi to make sure that he could find the way, another time. But when, on Sunday, he presented himself, the maid handed him a small sealed envelope. Dear Mr. McKay: Since your primary cb- ject in calling, as I understood it, is just to leave the message for my cousin, I’m sure you won't be inconvenienced because some friends have motored me out to Versailles. I do hope to see you soon again. I enjoyed our tea immensely, and our talk even more. Cordially yours, Mary G, OSBORNE. EVENING POST leaks a padiater cyte’ nd pose * ~ ts a nl water will hee # Stop That Leak In Your Radiator Yourself for $ FORD SIZE 75¢ OU will be surprised how quickly and easily you can completely and positively stop one or more leaks in Or anywhere in the cooling system. Geta It can save you big your radiator. can of Warner Liquid Solder at once. repair bills or cost of a new radiator, and it makes a much It also prevents other leaks from devel- Profit inventor of the better repair. oping. A million users enthusiastically endorse it. Mr. A. P. Warner, guarantees it will not clog That’s why sub by their experience. famous Warner Speedometer, circulation or do any other damage. stitutes are dangerous. Insist upon Warner Liquid Solder. Sold on money back basis. write us direct. If your dealer is out of stock, PATTERSON LENZ Legal Everywhere Standard Equipment on Over 50 Makes of Passenger Cars and Trucks WARNER OILGAT High Pressure A cleaner, quicker, easier and more efficient way to lubricate your motor car's chassis WARNER-PATIERSON CO,, 914 S. Michigan Ave. C hicago, Hl.

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| paper to read, anc | of nine Martin THE SATURDAY Martin scowled. It was true, he hadn’t asked her point-blank if she herself were to be there, but she should have used her so- cial intuition. He suspected that she had deliberately put one over on him. And rather trivially too. He asked of tne maid, “Oh! phone in yet"” The mai, who was British, responded, “No, sir, but Miss Osborne said if you in- quired, to say we're using the instrument at the chemist’s, next door, and he’s very kind about sending up if anyone rings us. Thank you, sir.” Is the tele- By Monday noon he had accumulated four visas out of the necessary five; he had also accumulated the experience of trying to telephone, in France—which is not merely an adventure, but a career. But Martin had a pow! pacar: jaw and a news- what’s thirty-five min- utes out of a healthy lifetime? Especially when the girl consents to ride through the Bois on a late spring afternoon, and stop for an ice at D’ Armenonville. ’ He didn’t mention yesterday. Let her o ahead and have fun with him; he wasn’t ooled. She might imagine that the joke was on Martin; but if he succeeded, through her intervention, in trading with Uncle Aleck, the joke would be transferred to the other foot. Fool him? Why, at the immature age had hooted with scorn when he was told that if he could keep his | tongue out of the cavity for a week a | tooth of solid gold would replace the late | implicitly. | probabl THE GREATEST § Sandwich |! | but she doesn’t know you're the man. departed. His rly mates had believed it hey probably believed, now, that fi. are unfathomable. But Martin was different. He was a cold fish, and sometimes he wished he were colder. He was planning to depart on Tuesday night, so that diplomatically he hinted of stern affairs which might tear him away, towards the south. ‘But will you be here when I come back?” “That depends on how soon you come,” she said demurely. ‘I thought I'd stay about—fourteen months. Oh! Mrs. Glenn —the one I’m living with—she’s aw- fully anxious to meet you; she wanted to know if you can’t come for dinner tomorrow evening. Just a few people, informally, and afterwards we're going out to dance.” “T'd be delighted to come for dinner,” said Martin imperturbably, “but I’ oing out on an eleven o'clock train. And wait! Does your friend know about — Pig-Alley’s?”’ “Oh, don’t be silly! Of course she does I'm not asieve. And come to dinner anyway.” He went to dinner, but he didn’t enjoy it. His hostess was charming, but Miss | Osborne was at the other end of the table IN THE WORLD ( YANOL ING or camping —in A the woods oron the beach Underwood Deviled Ham Sand wiches satisfy that out-door } ruingrer, Mak« a jiffy. Just ypenacanot Underwood Deviled lam, PCA them tn read like butter on the 1 the n taste the taste 7. 7 ty the | of and sea mimita delicious. taste prime ham ground fine ned with many mild spices the l nderwood way. ous dish S can be erwood Deviled Ham. “The Little Red Devil on request And 25¢ you a sample can. ‘ j ' t rocers everywhere, wM UNDERWOOD COMPANY 57 Fulton Street Boston, Mass. In business over 100 years Underwood Deviled | undergraduate, | smitten, the best floor. between an elderly flirt and a Harvard who were both violently Worst of all, she purely for busi- for he was girl- cement his own and showed it. ate it up. And Martin ness reasons, of course, proof—had wanted to | friendship with her. His hour approached. “I’m so sorry you can’t stay,’’ Mrs. Glenn told him, “We're going to La Bo- héme —quite the nicest place in Paris, and But we'll see you again?” “As often as you'll let me come,” said Martin fervently—and with all his crafti- | ness he thought that her smile was in mere hospitality. EVENING POST He had to say good-by to Miss Osborne directly under the enemy’s guns. “Oh, one last thing! I forgot to ask if you—mailed that little document for me.” She lowered her voice. “I meant to tell you—I had a wire. He went straight through to Constantinople and he simply doesn’t know where he’s going from there. Everything’s changed. He’s going to wire again where I can reach him later. So there’s no hurry.” Martin did his best to present a marble front, but it felt more like cardboard. ‘‘Oh, well, if you're sure I can square it with him sometime — “Didn’t I say he'll do anything in the world I want him to? Please don't worry. Good-by—and good luck.” Dumbly Martin returned to his hotel, and reéngaged his room. There was cer- tainly no point in attempting to bring down Uncle Aleck on the wing, when Uacle Aleck had the entire continent of Europe to swoop over and didn’t even know his own mind. Moreover, there was no point in locating Uncle Aleck at all until Mary’s testimonial was in his hands. Martin wondered if it wouldn’t be better business, anyway, to lie in ambush at Paris—and let Mary do up Uncle Aleck into a convenient package and deliver him, as advertised. While deliberating this question Martin put his watch through rehearsal every sixty seconds, until it was half past twelve. Then imperturbably he went to La Bohéme, and hunted out his recent hostess. “I missed the train,” said Martin shame- lessly, “‘so I thought I'd see if you still wanted me for a chaperon.” The elderly flirt and the undergraduate were much less enthusiastic than Miss Os- borne and Mrs. Glenn. Martin accepted the challenge, and set out to show them a little speed. And the outcome was so satis- factory that when he was once more in his room it took him another dozen cigarettes to recall that he was in France on business, and that he ought to cable a report. His cable ran: “Situation very compli- cated, but believe am making progress. Now a certain expert yclept Robert Fitz- simmons, otherwise known as the Speckled Beauty, and sometime heavyweight cham- pion of the world, once pronounced the dic- tum that the bigger they are the harder they fall. Similarly, when a cold fish be- gins to run a fever, there is no limit to his temperature. At the end of his tenth day in France, Martin McKay, the self-elected Solon, Solomon, Nestor and Daniel II, =" know whether he was going or com- “—_ had told her the day after La Boheme that his journey was postponed indefinitely. He had alleged, further, that for the next fortnight he had nothing particular to do, and that he hoped she would do it with him. She had said, ‘ Will you stop pretending you're an iceberg, then? Because I’m not a polar bear—and I don’t like sitting on you all the time.” “You always misunderstand me,” said Martin, and sighed. “I can’t heip my own nature, can 1? And it’s my nature to see life as it is.” “Yes,” she said, “but when you go over to the Latin quarter with me, if you try to ha mg me it’s only a counterfeit dime I'm going to mislay you!” They were browsing in a junk shop, and Miss Osborne was violently bargaining for an antique fire shovel, when Martin slipped from his moorings and fell in love with her. July 7,1925 He knew that it was love because, al- though he had never had it before, it couldn’t very well be anything else. There was no sweet delirium about it; it was in an advanced stage as soon as it started. And just as the measles, not dangerous to chil- dren, are often fatal to an adult, so love is perilous to those who, like Martin, escape it in their youth and contract it at matu- rity. For he was twenty-four, and he had thought himself immune. The tragedy was that it was unrequited. Martin knew it, because he knew women; and that was why he never spoke to her about it. He had endeavored to hold her hand, and she had said, ‘Oh, never mind, thanks; it’s fastened on.” And then, in a motor, he had tried to put his arm around her, and she ha° laughed, and said, “‘ That’s awfully thoughtful, but I’m not the least bit cold, really!” No, she was an incor- rigible coquette, and she was having fun with him, and his cue was to be a martyr and to take advantage of her subway in- fluence with Mr. Adams. Accordingly he martyred himself from the Gingerbread Fair to the Musée Car- navalet; and from feeding the carp at Chantilly to feeding the monkeys—with which he felt a warm fraternity—at the Jardin des Plantes. But when they went down the river to St.-Germain, and walked in the forest, and had tea in the chateau where Louis XIV was born, he began to see visions in the clouds. He said to her, “This place just runs away with your imagination, doesn’t it? f mean, I can just fancy myself all togged out like a musical- comedy star in Viennese light opera, and you “Yes? What am I cast for? merry villagers?” “Oh, Mary! Can’t you be serious?” She smiled. “I used to be,” she said, “but for yoursakeI changed. Youmademe what I am today. I hope you're satisfied.”’ But Martin was very miserable. “Gosh!” he said to his mirror. “If I only kidded myself the way most people do maybe I'd call this a swell time!” At this juncture he received a cablegram from the home office. “‘ Construction begun Vaucluse. Must place factory orders. In- crease limit to hundred seventy five per share. Your raise fifteen hundred if you succeed. Keep us advised.” Martin thought it all over very carefully, with what intelligence was left to him—if any. Miss Osborne had informed him two days ago that she had finally mailed her letter with inclosure. Uncle Aleck was some- where on the great natural pipe line, west of the Adriatic. Time was precious—and suppose that Uncle Aleck didn’t return to Paris en schedule! He was strongly tempted to confess to Miss Osborne and to plead for her support, and her cousin’s address—but he lacked the nerve. He could imagine how she would give him the raspberry for the awkward- ness of his missionary work. She would ex- plain to him humorously that business and sentiment can’t mix. Also, as she had said, she wasn’t a sieve; and apparently she had promised Uncle Aleck not to disclose his routing. But Martin wasn’t a man to be fooled. Witness the fact that he hadn't yet betrayed his mission—not to a soul; not even to Mary. Now he telegraphed the American consulate at Constantinople, and on receipt of the answer he telegraphed Philippopolis (Continued on Page 77) One of the PHOTO BY MARTIN QUESTA, RAINIER NATIONAL PARK Paradise Inn, Rainier National Park, in its Winter Garb

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST July 7, 1925 VELA A great example of things that go together: Baseball, the national game. Thirst, the natural call for refreshment. Coca-Cola, the favorite bever- ee. ' : The Coca-Cola Company Atlanta, Ga. age, sold everywhere.

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| { t ‘ — 4] (Continued from Page 74) and Sofia. Then Martin grinned. Uncle Aleck had quitted Sofia only two days ago, bound for Plevna and Giurgevo. It was the petroleum trail, backwards; and all Martin had to do was to hop down to Transylvania and shoot from there, It was absurdly sim- ple—and he could explain everything to everybody afterwards, as in the third act. His last evening with her was memorable. For the first hour she was so sweet and womanly that Martin's head was loose on his shoulders and revelation was on his tongue—but of course she had to ruin it. He began to say poetic things about her eyes, and she not only teased him but she also patronized him. Martin got up indignantly. “I’m going out of town for a few days,”’ he said, ‘and when I get back Idowish you'd try to takeme seriously-—just foronce. Just fora change.” “But why should I? You've said so often that life’s nothing but skini milk masquerading as cream; and then when I agree with you, you snap at me! Do you know—sometimes I’m afraid you Senegalese haven’t any stability at all!” He was probably the unhappiest man on the Simpion Express, and he certainly got the least for his money. As far as sleep was concerned, he might as well have traveled in a box car. At Triest, two days from Paris, he had atelegram from Bukharest. Uncle Aleck had departed, a day since, for Brasso and Bistritza. Martin con- sulted his map, grinned, sent four more wires, and booked for H6éd-Mezé- Vasarhely, to head him off. It took him several minutes to convey the idea to the ticket agent, but there was one consolation—that Uncle Aleck was probably in the same boat. The right of way was as rough as any corduroy road, and Martin was perpetually harassed by dreams cf Miss Osborne, who didn’t love him. And at his jaw-cracking destination, after forty-eight hours of torture, he had word that Uncle Aleck had _ side- stepped to Cluj, on the way to De- breczin in Hungary. Martin was tired, but determined. He would stop at nothing; not even for a town so barbarous as to call itself Debreczin. He sat up all night in a hermetically sealed compartment filled with Serbs, Croats and Slovenes, and after a tense morning of research and bribery, discovered that Uncle Aleck was off to Belgrad. Martin grinned. Belgrad was in the direct path to Al- bania, and the newest and richest oil fields. There ensued two weeks of incred- ible discomfort and indigestion, during which Martin ceased to be amazed by the flexibility of the alphabet. Svil- ainats, Gornjitogoch, and Wenitslani— these were Uncle Aleck’s way stations to Uskup. And at Uskup, where Mar- tin was only half a day behind, Uncle Aleck had doubled on his tracks, and bought a through ticket for Budapest. “All right,” said Martin, in Prince- ton French, ‘give mea ticket for Bu- dapest, and some telegraph blanks. And when’s the next train?” They told him that it would be along in about two days, or two days and a half. At Nish a freight wreck held him up fora day, and at Szabadka the engine broke down. Martin’s constant ex- pression was that of a champion cat who had just allowed a particularly fine mouse—partly crippled—to outrun him. But he pushed on past Gyér and the blue lake of Ferto to Vienna—Rozsony—Skalika Trebi¢—Prague— Karlsruhe—and there the trail ended. Uncle Aleck had hired a motor car, no man knew whither. From the bathtub Martin spoke through a mist of glorious steam. “I want four things,”’ he said. ‘A Scotch-and-soda and a first-class ticket to Paris.” “Yes, sir. And the other two?” “Two more Scotch-and-sodas,” said Martin, and disappeared in the mist. He was utterly crushed, utterly hum- bled. He, who had been so sanguine of putting one over on the securities depart- ment! He had cost his company three thousand dollars, and he had nothing to show for it except a thick pile of vouchers, andan acute heartache. But his heart action, as the train neared Paris, startled him. Even before his luggage had been brought upstairs he was telephoning to the obliging chemist; and he had to wait so long that THE SATURDAY he could almost feel his arteries harden. But “Ww hy, Martin! When did you get in?" “Just now. His laugh was higher- pitched than usual. ‘“‘When can I| see you?” “Why—not for ten minutes.”” How well he remembered that tantalizing tone! “What? “Silly! Take a taxicab- -and we'll have a whole hour before dinner.” At sight of her his knees weakened, but he warned himself not to act like a fool. Consequently he only talked like one. She put her hand on his arm. ‘What’s the matter, Martin? just worn out, aren’t - ‘I never stopped inking about you a single minute,” he blurted. ‘Not one.” “Oh, Martin! Was that what wore you out?” You're EVENING POST here just to be one more minnow on the hook. Well, I’m not. I've been crazy about you, and you thought I was a joke. It was perfect hell being away from you. Well, why don’t you go on and laugh? I'm going now. You can tell Mrs. Glenn I was sick, or fell dead, or anything else, But you've got what was coming to you. Honestly, did you think you could fool me?” She had opened her eyes, and in spite of himself they held him. “Why—yes,”’ she said with an effort. “Yes—I thought so. And l've done it. And I can prove it.” “Oh, you think so, do you?” She rose unsteadily. “Ask yourself! Pig- alle’s—and me--and Uncle Aleck your business over here. Why, of course! It was in the papers; Mr. Martin McKay, of Stein, Clay & Co.—that’s how I remem- bered who you were. Uncle Aleck guessed Miss Osborne Was Viciently Bargaining for an Antique Fire Shovel He boiled over. The same old come-on stuff! Goad a man into a frenzy and then goad him because he was in it! He forgot that he was marble. “There’s only one thing the matter,” said Martin savagely, “and I’m going to fix that—right now!” His sensations, at first, were extraordi- narily like those of an executioner. His idea was to punish her, according to her deserts. It was an odd fashion of punishment, but that was the way he felt about it. And that was why, when she began to struggle, he had nomercy. Like an executioner charged with a grim task in which the prisoner has no rights. He kissed her very thoroughly, and none too gently. But because he was a gentleman, he was suddenly frightened. He was frightened by her resistance. Indeed, he was so fright- ened by it that he didn’t even perceive when it stopped. Martin stood up. “Well,” he gaid thickly, “‘I guess that’s all teers t is to that. I guess you thought I was coming around instantly, when I showed it to him~— and after the things you said to me, | knew.” Martin was marble, indeed, but not simply in front; he was marble all over. “I fooled you about his trip—by telling you the truth— because that was the only thing you wouldn’t believe. It wasn’t a business trip I didn’t know whe re he was going. But most of all They were interrupted by a nearty voice which said, with superb tact, “ Well you two young folks got everything al! settled between you? When’s the happy day?” It was Uncle Aleck. Uncle Aleck, tramping genially into the salon, halted and stared at the feminine whirlwine which swept past him, with sounds as of hysteria. “Well, what's bit Mary?” he demanded, and receiving no response, he shook his head, and chuckled. ‘‘ Guess they're all like that, though—it’s part of the show. Well, young man—shake hands. Say, you know that was funny—up in that joint, I mean. More I think of it, more I got to laugh. And you comin’ all the way over the pond to do business with me! And I hear you been shadowin’' me all over sixteen counties Fat chance, you had.” He chuckled again, “T was doin’ the same thing you was Yes, sir, for a fact. Only I was after a lady Very remarkabie woman—inspectin’ relief work in the Near East for the Ohio Society Met her on the boat; figured she was the right one; wouldn't tell me what her schedule was, so I just says to myself, ‘Well,’ I says, ‘I'll show you if I mean what I says.’ So I chased her around three solid weeks, caught up with her in Vienna, popped the question fourteen times be- tween there and Karlsruhe—and we're goin’ to be married soon's the law allows. So I feel pretty good. But about that Grenoble stock. Well, it’s like this—I won't sell it.” Mertin nodded woodenly. He was still mute “No, sir, I won't sell it.” And Uncle Aleck chuckled again. “ Fact is, I gave it to Mary. Of course if she wanted to give you her proxy, so you could vote the stock-— why, Stein, Clay ought to pay you afat young commis- sion. Because between you and me, young man, this is the only way you folks could ever have got patho § and I guess I'll write and tell 'em so. That is, if you don’t think it'd blast your reputation with ‘em any. Martin was gazing stu vidly at him “Yes, sir,” confirmed 0 ncle Aleck “T gave it to Mary. For your weddin’ present. Let's see—I did it from Bukharest, day I got her letter sayin’ you was elec ted—and your letter, in- side,” Martin gasped, “What?” “Well, that was what her letter meant, all right. She put it more kind of delicate, but I saw right _of she wa Say, what's wrong? if Uncle Aleck had possessed any lingering doubts as to the sanity of young men in love they were promptly removed. For Martin, wild eyed, was waving both arms at once and bleat- ing: “Go get her! Go get her! Bring her in here! Grenoble be hanged! Go get her!" He hadn't a thought for business He was thinking of the three weeks that he had lost. Time that he could never make up, never. Irretrievabiy lost —those three weeks with Mary, in Paris. For according to his orders, he would have to sail Saturday, His brain was a kaleidoscope. Mary had said Mary had written—it was impossible, incredible. And if he hadn't been so smart he could have had three mors weeks with herin Paris —in the spring / He could feel himself telescoping into a dwarf. He could feel himself shrinking into a zero. To think that Mary He paused, as though checked by an emergency brake, Mary was trembling on the threshold Martin leaped towards her, “And most of all,” he said, ** about yourself? Was that it couldn't that beit? How you fooled me Please, could Il know? How could I have dreamed? | never knew anybody like you before. | was mad about you. Please " She had buried her face in his coat “Didn't | say -if any woman ever really wanted you ‘But, what ever made you want me dearest?” asked Martin shakily She lifted her head. “‘ Just so we could g the rest of the way--and let life fool us beautifully — together.’ “It can't fool me,”’ said Martin, with his lips on hers. “i knew the minute I saw you ~it was you, and nobody else!” At dinner it was unanimously agreed that a celebration was in order. “ Well,” said Uncle Aleck jovially, “you folks name your own poison. Pick your joint, and ther it's my party. I owe Martin one anyhow He drew a rain check, that time before Martin, what’s your idea?” Martin didn’t hesitate. “Why, if nobody else minds,’’ he said, “I'd like to go back up to that Place Pig-Alley, You know, that was an awfully interesting place—as I re call it. Sort of—well, it was kind of the spirit of Paris, if you know what I mean Gay and spontaneous and romantic, and all that sort of thing. Personally, i'd like to go back up there,”

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Who of all battery buyers has the most at stake in making a choice? The car manufacturer. Who has the most experience in buy- ing batteries? The car manufacturer. Who buys most carefully—on the basis of comparative laboratory and service tests? The car manufacturer. Isn’t it significant that not only are Willard Batteries the choice of by far the largest number of car and truck builders, but also that they have always been used by more than 9 out of 10 of those builders who use them today? THE SATURDAY EVENING POST The reason is two-fold: Because these builders are principally interested not in saving a few cents on a battery but in giving their customers all the value they can for the money—and because they know Willard Batteries help them do it as no others can. If your car or truck is listed below, you can be sure that the maker put performance above all other considera- tions in selecting the battery. If it is not listed, remember that Willard makes the right type and size for your car— and at the right price. WILLARD STORAGE BATTERY COMPANY, CLEVELAND, OHIO Made in Canada by the Willard Storage Battery Company of Canada, Limited, Toronto, Ontario More than 9 out of 10 of all the 137 car and truck builders listed here always have used Willard Batteries as original equipment Acason Bell Dart Fulton Hurlburt Acme Bessemer Davis GMC Imperial Advance-Rumely Biddle-Crane Day -Elder Gardner Independent Ahrens-Fox Brown Defiance Garford Indiana All-American Bridgeport Denby Giant Jewett Allen Case Dependable Gotfredson Jordan American Chevrolet Diamond T HCS Kalamazoo American Clermont Dodge Hahn Kelly LaFrance Clydesdale Dorris Hawkeye Springfield American- Cole Dort (Export) Haynes Kimball LaFrance of Collier Duesenberg Henney Kissel Canada Colonial Elcar Highway Koehler Anderson Commerce FWD Holmes Krebs Armleder Crawford Fifth Ave. Coach Holt Lease Atterbury Cunningham Franklin Huffman Lewis-Hall Avery Daniels Fremont Hupmobile Lexington Little Giant Oldsmobile Seagrave Towmotor MHC Paige Selby Traffic Marmon Paterson Service Transport McFarlan Phianna Shaw Traylor Menoininee Pierce Signal Ultimate Mercedes Arrow Standard Velie Mercer R&V Standard 8 Vim Meteor (Piqua) Knight Stanley Waltham Metz Rainier Stanwood Westcott Miller Raleigh Stewart White Mitchell Reo Stoughton Wills Sainte Monroe Richelieu Studebaker Claire Nash Riddle Stutz Wilson Nelson Romer Thomart Winther LeMoon Rowe Tiffin Winton Ogren Sayers Titan Wolverine Willard A and B Rechargeable Radio Batteries enable you to get the most out of your set and they last for years. Send for free booklet, ‘‘Better Results From Radio.”

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80 A Bottle of Milk is a Bottle of Health THE SATURDAY EVENING POST CHESTER FORGETS HIMSELF “Oh, yes; I’m quite the prattler now. I talk about her brother mostly. I put in the pane part of my time boosting the tick. t seems to be coming easier. Will power, I wopeee. And then, of course, I talk a good dea! about her mother’s novels.” “Have you read them?” “Every damned oneof them —forhersake. And if there’s a ter proof of love than that, show me! My gosh, what muck that woman writes! That reminds me, I’ve got to send to the bookshop for her latest—out yesterday. It’s called The Stench of Life. A sequel, I understand, to Gray Mildew.” “Brave lad!’ I said, pressing his hand, “Brave, devoted lad!” “Oh, I'd do more than that for her.” He smoked fora whileinsilence. “By the way, I’m going to propose to her tomorrow.’ “ Already? “Can't put it off a minute longer. It’s been as much as I could manage, bottling it up till now. Where do you think would be the best place? I mean, it’s not the sort of thing you can do while you're wanes down the street or having a cup of tea. I thought of asking her to have a round with me and taking a stab at it on the links.” ‘You could net do better. The links— Nature’s cathedral “Right- ho, then! I'll let you know how I come out.’ “T wish you luck, my boy,”’ I said. And what of Felicia meanwhile? She was, alas, far from returning the devotion which scorched Chester's vital organs. He seemed to her precisely the sort of man she most disliked. From childhood up Felicia Blakeney had lived in an atmosphere of highbrowism, and the type of husband she had always seen in her daydreams was the man who was simple and straightforward and earthy and did not know whether Art- bashiekeff was a suburb of Moscow or a new | kind of Russian drink. A man like Chester, ' who on his own statement would rather S| | read one of her mother’s novels than eat, § hours sleep a bottle of milk There's a pleasant prescription that will preserve the precious energy and vitality the night's rest hasgiven you. Drink a bottle of delicious, health- building milk at breakfast. You'll feel fit all day. Worth while? You will say so! Drink more bottled milk every day. Because bottled milk is clean and protected. Be sure it’s bottled in a Thatcher Milk Bottle. Because Thatcher Milk Bottles are full-measure bottles. Thatcher manufacture pre- vents undersized bottles and assures you an honest quart or pint. That is why over 80% of the largest dairies in America use Thatcher Bottles. Call or see your milk dealer today. Ask him if he uses Thatcher full- measure Bottles, Insist that your mulk be delivered in Thatcher Bottles. Thatcher Manufacturing Co. ELMIRA, NEW YORK Operating nine large factories devoted exclusively to the manufacture of Superior Quality Milk Bottles. TALGHER TTLES MILK at | usin revolted her. And his warm affection for her brother Crispin set the seal on her dis- taste. Felicia was a dutiful child, and she loved her parents. It took a bit of doing, but she did it. But at her brother Crispin she drew | the line. He wouldn’t do, and his friends | were worse than he was. They were high- | voiced, supercilious, pince-nezed youn men who talked patronizingly of life — art, and Chester’s unblushing confession that he was one of them had put him ten down and nine to play right away. You may wonder why the boy’s unde- niable skill on the links had no power to soften the -. The untortunate fact was | that all the effects of his prowess were |} neutralized rt his behavior while playing. All her life she had treated golf with a proper reverence and awe, and in Chester’s | attitude towards the game she seemed to detect a horrible shallowness. The fact is, Chester, in his efforts to keep himself from strong language, had found a sort of relief in a girlish giggle, and it made her | shudder every time she heard it. His deportment, therefore, in the space of time leading up to the proposal could not | have been more injurious to his cause. They | started out quite happily, Chester doing a | nice two-hundred-yarder off the first tee, | which for a moment awoke the girl’s re- spect. But at the fourth, after a lovely brassy shot, he found his ball deeply em- bedded in the print of a woman’s high heel. It was just one of those rubs of the green which normally would have caused him to | ease his bosom with a flood of sturdy pro- test, but now he was on his guard. | Tee-hee!’’ simpered Chester, reachin for his niblick. ‘Too bad, too bad!” an the girl shuddered to the depths of her soul. Having holed cut, he proceeded to en- liven the walk to the next tee with a few remarks on her mother’s literary style, and it was while they were a after their | drives that he proposed. His proposal, considering the circum- | stances, could hardiy have n less hap- pily worded. Little knowing that he was rushing upon his doom, Chester stressed the Crispin note. He gave Felicia the im- pression that he was Suggesting this mar- riage more for Crispin’s sake than anything else. He conveyed the idea that he thought how nice it would be for brother Crispin to have his old chum in the family. He drew a picture of their little home, with Crispin | forever popping in and out like a rabbit. (Continued from Page 11) It is rot to be wondered at that, when at length he had finished and she had time to speak, the horrified girl turned him down with a thud. It is at moments such as these that a man reaps the reward of a good upbringing. In similar circumstances ‘those who have not had the benefit of a sound trainin ing in golf are too apt to go wrang. Goaded by the sudden anguish, they ta e to drink, plunge into dissipation and write vers libre. Chester was mercifully saved from this. I saw him the day after he had been handed the mit- ten and was struck by the look of grim de- termination in his face. Deeply wounded though he was, I could see that he was the master of his fate and the captain of his soul. “T amsorry, my boy,” cally when he had told me t news “It can’t be helped,’”’ he replied bravely. “Her decision was final?” “Quite.” “You do not contemplate having an- other pop at her?” “No good. I know when I’m licked.” I patted him on the shoulder and said the only thing it seemed possible to say: “ After all, there is always golf.”’ He nodded. “Yes; my game needs a lot of tuning up. Now is the time to do it. From now on I go at this -——~ seriously. I make it my life wor Who knows?” he murmured with a sudden gleam in his eyes. “The Amateur Championshi “The Open!” I cried, fi falling gladly into his mood. “The British Amateur,” flushing. “The British Open!” I chorused. “No one has ever copped all four.” “No one.” “Watch me!” said Chester Meredith simply. It was about two weeks after this that I happened to look in on Chester at his house one morning. I found him about to start for the links. As he had foreshadowed in the conversation which I have just re- lated, he now spent most of the daylight hours on the course. In these two weeks he had gone about his task of achieving per- fection with a furious energy which made him the talk of the club. Always one of the best players in the place, he had es an astounding brilliance. Men who had played him level were now obliged to re- ceive two and even three strokes. The pro himself, conceding one, had only succeeded in halving their match. The struggle for the President’s Cup came round once more, and Chester won it for the second time with ridiculous ease. When I arrived he was practicing chip shots in his sitting room. I noticed that he seemed to be laboring under some strong emotion, and his first words gave me the clew. “She’s going away tomorrow,” he said abruptly, lofting a ball over the whatnot onto the Chesterfield. I was not sure whether I was sorry or re- lieved. Her absence would leave a terrible blank, of course; but it might be that it would help him to get over his infatuation. “Ah!” I said noncommittally. Chester addressed his ball with a well- assumed phlegm, but I could see by the way his ears wiggled that he was feeling deeply. I was not surprised when he topped his shot into the coal scuttle. “She has promised to play a last round with me this morning,” he said. Again I was doubtful what view to take. It was a pretty, poetic idea, not unlike Browning’s Last Ride Together, but I was not sure if it was altogether wise. However, it was none of my business, so I merely patted him on the shoulder and he gathered up his clubs and went off. Owing to motives of delicacy, I had not offered to accompany him on his round, and it was not till later that I learned the actual details of what occurred. At the start, it seems, the spiritual anguish which he was sufferin a depressing effect on his game. He hooked his drive off the first tee and was only enabled to take a five by means of a strong niblick shot out of the rough. On the second, the lake hole, he lost a bail in the water and got another five. It was only on the third that he began to pull himself together. I said s 7 ye ormr 2 e painful said Chester, July 7,1925 The test of a great golfer is his ability to recover from a bad start. Chester had this quality to a preéminent degree. A lesser man, conscious of being three over par on the first two holes, might have looked on his round as ruined. o Chester it simply pram that he had to get a couple of birdies right speedily, and he set about it at once. ways a long driver, he excelled himself at the third. It is, as you know, an uphill hole all the way; but his drive could not have come far short of two hundred and fifty yards. A brassy shot of equal strength and unerring direction put him on the edge of the green, and he holed out with a long ow two under par. He had hoped for a irdie and he had achieved an eagle. I think that this splendid feat must have softened Felicia’s heart, had it not been for the fact that misery had by this time en- tirely robbed Chester of the ability to smile. Instead, therefore, of behaving in the wholesome, natural way of men who get threes at par-five holes, he preserved a drawn, impassive countenance; and as she watched him tee up her ball, stiff, correct, polite, but to all outward appearance abso- lutely inhuman, the girl found herself stifling that thrill of what for a moment had been almost adoration. It was, she felt, exactly how her brother Crispin would have comported hiniself if he had done a hole in two under par. And yet she could not altogether check a wistful sigh when, after a couple of fours on the next two holes, he picked up another stroke on the sixth and with an inspired spoon shot brought his medal score down to one better than par by getting a two on the hundred-and-seventy-yard seventh. But the brief spasm of tenderness passed, and when he finished the first nine with two more fours she refrained from anything warmer than a mere word of stereotyped congratulation. “One under par for the first nine,’ said. “Splendid!” “One under par,” said Chester woodenly. “Out in thirty-four. What is the record for the course?” Chester started. So great had been his preoccupation that he had not given a thought to the course record. He suddenly realized now that the pro, who had done the lowest medal score to date—the other course record was held by Peter Willard with a hundred and sixty-one, achieved in his first season—had gone out in only one better than his own figures that day. “Sixty-eight,”’ he said. “What a pity you lost those strokes at the beginning!’ “Yes,” said Chester. He spoke absently—and, as it seemed to her, primly and without enthusiasm—for the flaming idea of having a go at the course record had only just occurred to him. Once before he had done the first nine in thirty- four, but on that occasion he had not felt that curious feeling of irresistible force which comes to a golfer at the very top of his form. Then he had been aware all the time that he had been putting chancily. They had gone in, yes, but he had uttered a prayer per putt. oday he was superior to one weak ee When he tapped the ] on the green he knew it was going to sink. The course record? Why not? What a last offering to lay at her feet! She would go away, out of his life forever; she would marry some other bird; but the memory of that supreme round would remain with her as long as she breathed. When he won the British Open and Amateur for the second— the third—the fourth time, she would say to herself, ‘‘I was with him when he dented the record for his home course!” And he had only to pick up a couple of strokes on the last nine, to do threes at holes where he was wont to be satisfied with fours. Yes, by Vardon, he would take a whirl at it! You who are acquainted with these links will no doubt say that the task which Ches- ter Meredith had sketched out for himself cutting two strokes off thirty-five for the second nine—was one at which humanity _— well shudder. The pro, himself, who finished sixth in the last Open Champion- sin, had never done better than a thirty- five, playing perfect golf and being one under par. But such was Chester’s mood that as he teed up on the tenth he did not even consider the possibility of failure. Every muscle in his body was working in perfect codrdination with its fellows; his (Continued on Page 83) she

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST July 7, 1925 The Fuller Friction Shower A Joyous Bath! The Fuller Friction Shower brings health to the skin and delight to the bather. Thoroughly cleansing, gently massaging, it bathes you in water as clean as the water you drink. Continually fresh, it flows among the firm but gentle bristles at any temperature you desire. It 1s the one cold-bath method which can be taken without shock to the system as it brings the cold water to only a portion of the body at a time, while the bristles so stimu- late the circulation that the reaction is most healthful and invigorating. It is the ideal hot or warm bath. No wonder it is considered the perfection of the bath tub. Kor summer days the Fuller Friction Shower helps to keep you comfortable and fit. Any man will thank his wife if she buys for him this Fuller Friction Shower, when next the Fuller Man calls. The Fuller Man brings this and other Fuller Brushes to your home. During these summer months you par- ticularly want the Fuller Friction Shower; but you will also want to see other timely Fuller Brushes for personal use and household helpfulness. lf a Fuller Man has not called on you recently, write to any one of our 250 Branch Offices (for one nearest you, look in telephone book) Our “ Handy Brush Book” is free. A post card will bring it from The Fuller Brush Company, 1070 Windsor Ave., Hartford, Conn In Canada, Fuller Brush Company, Ltd., Hamilton.) This distinguished gentleman of 1843 helped to pass laws prohibiting the use of bath tubs, believing them dangerous, a menace to health. But today, his great- grandson revels in the luxury of that most modern feature of the bath room,—the Fuller Friction Shower. FULLER BRUSHES 69 USES —HEAD TO FOOT—CELLAR TO ATTIC

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So te I = | } | ding? —- . ee Fg c.. eee Ts (Continued from Page 80) wrists felt as if they were made of tempered steel, and his eyes had just that hawklike quality which enables a man to judge his short approaches to the inch. He swung forcefully, and the ball sailed so close to the direction post that for a moment it seemed as if it had hit it. “Oo!” cried Felicia. Chester did not speak. He was following the flight of the ball. It sailed over the brow of the hill, and with his knowledge of the course, he could tell almost the exact patch of turf on which it must have come to rest. An iron would do the business frem there, and a single putt would give him the first of the birdies he required. Two min- utes later he had holed out a six-foot putt for a three. “Oo!” said Felicia again. Chester walked to the eleventh tee in silence, ‘No, never mind,” she said as he stooped to put her bail on the sand. “I don’t think I'll play any more. I'd much rather just wate h you, “Oh, that you could watch me through life!”’ said Chester, but he said it to him- self. His actual words were “Very well,” and he spoke them with a stiff coldness which chilled the girl. The eleventh is one of the trickiest holes on the course, as no doubt you have found out for yourself. It looks absurdly simple, but that little patch of wood on the right that seems so harmless is placed just in the deadliest position to catch even the most slightly sliced drive. Chester’s lacked the austere precision of his last. A hundred yards from the tee it swerved almost imper- ceptibly, and striking a branch, fell in the tangled undergrowth. It took him two strokes to hack it out and put it on the green, and then his long putt, after quivering on the edge of the hole, stayed there. For a swift instant red-hot words rose to his lips, but he caught them just as they were coming out and crushed them back. He looked at his ball and he looked at the hole. “Tut!” said Chester. Felicia uttered a deep sigh. That niblick shot out of the rough had impressed her profoundly. If only, she felt, this superb golfer had been more human! Already, after watching him play the last nine holes, she had picked up more pointers about the game than the pro of her home club had heen able to teach her in six months. If only she were able to be constantly in this man’s society, to see exactly what it was that he did with his left wrist that gave that terrific snap to his drives, she might acquire the knack herself one of these days. For she was a clear-thinking, honest girl and thoroughly realized that she did not get the distance she ought to with her wood. With a husband like Chester beside her to stimu- late and advise, of what might she not be capable? If she got wrong in her stance he could put her right with a word. If she had a bout of slicing how quickly he would tell her what caused it. And she knew that she had only to speak a word to wipe out the effects of her refusal, to bring him to her side forever. But could a girl pay such a price? When he had got that eagle on the third he had looked bored. When he had missed this last putt he had not seemed to care. “Tut!” What a word to use at such a moment. No, she felt sadly, it could not be done. To marry Chester Meredith, she told herself, would be like marrying a composite of Soames Forsyte, Sir Willoughby Patterne and all her brother Crispin’s friends. She sighed and was silent. Chester, standing on the twelfth tee, re- viewed the situation swiftly, like a general before a battle. There were seven holes to play, and he had to do these in two. better than par. The one that faced him now offered few opportunities. It was a long, slogging, dog-leg hole, and even Ray and Taylor, when they had played their exhibition game on the course, had taken fives. No opening there. The thirteenth—up a steep hill, with a long iron shot for one’s second and a blind hole fringed with sand traps? Scarcely practicable to hope for better than a four. The fourteenth—into the valley, with the ground sloping sharply down to ‘the ravine? He had once done it in three, but it had been a fluke. No, on these three holes he must be content to play for a steady par and trust to picking up a stroke on the fifteenth. The fifteenth, straightforward up to the plateau green with its circle of bunkers, presents few difficulties to the finished golfer who is on his game. A bunker meant nothing to Chester in his present conquer- ing vein. His mashie-shot second soared almost contemptuously over the chasm and rolled to within a foot of the pin. He came to the sixteenth with the clear-cut problem before him of snipping two strokes off par on the last three holes. To the unthinking man, not acquainted with the layout of our links, this would no doubt appear a tremendous feat. But the fact is, the greens committee, with perhaps an unduly sentimental bias towards the happy ending, have arranged a compara- tively easy finish to the course. The six- teenth is a perfectly plain hole, with broad fairway and a downhill run; the seven- teenth, a one-shot affair with no difficulties for the man who keeps them straight; and the eighteenth, though its uphill run makes it deceptive to the stranger and leads the unwary to take a mashie instead of a light iron for his second, has no real venom in it. Even Peter Willard has occasionally come home in a canter with a six, five and seven, conceding himself only two eight-foot putts. It is, I think, this mild conclusion to a tough course that makes the refreshment room of our club so noticeable for its sea of happy faces. The bar every day is crowded with rejoicing men who, forgetting the agonies of the first fifteen, are babbling of what they did on the last three. The seven- teenth, with its possibilities of holing out a top second, is particularly soothing. Chester Meredith was not the man to top his second on any hole, so this supreme bliss did not come his way; but he laid a beautiful mashie shot dead and got a three; and when with his iron he put his first well on the green at the seventeenth and holed out for a two, life, for all his broken heart, seemed pretty tolerable. He now had the situation well in hand. He had only to play his usual game to get a four on the last and lower the course record by one stroke. It was at this supreme moment of his life that he ran into the Wrecking Crew You doubtless find it difficult to under- stand how it came about that if the Wreck- ing Crew were on the course at all he had not run into them long before. The ex- planation is that, with a regard for the etiquette of the game unusual in these mis- erable men, they had for once obeyed the law thst enacts that foursomes shall start at the tenth. They had begun their dark work on the second nine, accordingly, at almost the exact moment when Chester Meredith was driving off at the first, and this had enabled them to keep ahead until now. When Chester came to the eighteenth tee they were just leaving it, moving up the fairway with their caddies in mass forma- tion and looking to his exasperated eye like one of those great race migrations of the Middle Ages. Wherever Chester looked he seemed to see human, so to speak, figures One was doddering about in the long grass fifty yards from the tee, others debouched to left and right. The course was crawling with them. Chester sat down on the bench with a weary sigh. He knew these men. Self- centered, remorseless, deaf to all the promptings of their better nature, they never let anyone through. There was noth- ing to do but wait. The Wrecking Crew scratched on. The man near the tee rolled his ball ten yards, then twenty, then thirty—he was improv- ing. Ere long he would be out of range Chester rose and swished his driver. But the end was not yet. The individual operating in the rough on the left had been advancing in slow stages, and now, finding his ball teed up on a tuft of grass, he opened his shoulders and let himself go. There was a loud report, and the ball, hitting a tree squarely, bounded back almost to the tee, and all the weary work was to do again By the time Chester was able to drive he was reduced by impatience and the neces sity of refraining from commenting on the state of affairs as he would have wished to comment, to a frame of mind in which no man could have kept himself from pressing He pressed and topped. The ball skidded over the turf for a meager hundred yards “‘D-d-d-dear me!"’ said Chester. The next moment he uttered a bitter laugh. Too late, a miracle had happened. One of the foul figures in front was waving its club. Other ghastly creatures were withdrawing to the side of the fairway Now, when the harm had been done, these outcasts were signaling to him to go through. The hollow mockery of the thing swept over Chester like a wave. What was THE SATURDAY EVENING POST the use of going through now? He was a good three hundred yards from the green, and he needed par on this hole to break the record. Almost absently he drew his brassy from his bag; then, as the full sense of his wrongs bit into his soul, he swung viciously. Golf is a strange game. Chester had pressed on the tee and foozled. He pressed now, and achieved the most perfect shot of his life. The ball shot from its place as if a charge of powerful explosive were behind it. Never deviating from a straight line, never rising more than six feet, it sailed up the hill, crossed the bunker, eluded the mounds beyond, struck the turf, rolled, and stopped fifty feet from the hole. It was the brassy shot of a lifetime, and shrill, senile yippings of excitement and congratulation hare ad down from the Wrecking Crew. For, de- graded though they were, these men were not wholly devoid of human instincts Chester drew a deep breath. was over. That third shot, which would lay the ball right up to the pin, was precisely the sort of thing he did best boyhood he had been a wizard at the short approach. He could hole out in two now on his left ear. He strode up the hill to his ba!! It could not have been lying better. Two inches away there was a nasty cup in the turf; but it had avoided this and was sitting nicely perched up, smiling an invitation to the mashie-niblick. Chester shuffled his feet and eyed the flag keenly. Then he stooped to play, and Felicia watched him breathlessly. Her whole being seemed to be concentrated on him. She led forgotten everything save that she was seeing a course record get broken. She could not have been more wrapped up in his success if she had had large sums of money on it. The Wrecking Crew, meanwhile, come to life again. They had stopped twit- tering about Chester’s brassy shot and were thinking of resuming their own game. Even in foursomes where fifty yards is reckoned a good shot, somebody must be away, and His ordeal | Almost from | had | | the man whose turn it was to play was the | one who had acquired from his brother members of the club the nickname of the First Grave Digger A word about this human wen. He was—if there can be said to be grades in such a subspecies—-the star performer of the Wrecking Crew. The lunches of fifty- seven years had caused his chest to slip down into the mezzanine floor, but he was still a powerful man, and had in his youth been a hammer thrower of some repute. He differed from his colleagues—The Man with the Hoe, Old Father Time, and Con- sul The Almost Human—in that, though they were content to peck cautiously at the ball, he never spared himself in his efforts to do it a violent injury. Frequently he had cut a Blue Dot almost in half with his niblick. He was completely muscle-bound, so that he seldom achieved anything be- yond a series of chasms in the turf; but he was always trying, and it was his secret belief that, given two or three miracles hap- pening simultaneously, he would one of these days bring off a snifter. Years of dis- appointment had, however, reduced the flood of hope to a mere trickle, and when he took his brassy now and addressed the ball he had no immediate plans beyond a vague intention of rolling the thing a few yards farther up the hill The fact that he had no business to play at all till Chester had holed out did not oc- cur to him; and even if it had occurred he would have dismissed the objection as finicking. Chester, bending over his ball, was nearly the distance of three full brassy shots. The First Grave Digger did not hesitate. He two hundred yards away—or | | whirled up his club as in distant days he | had been wont to swing the hammer, and with the grunt which this performance al- ways wrung from him brought it down Golfers—and I clude the Wrecking Crew —are imitative race flubbing ahead of us on the fairway inclines to make us flub as well; and, conversely, it is immediately after we have seen a magnif- icent shot that we are apt to eclips our- selves. Consciously, the Grave Digger had no notion how Chester had made that su- perb brassy biff of his; but all the while, I suppose, his subconscious self had been taking notes. At any rate, on this one oc- casion he, too, did the shot of a lifetime. As he opened his eyes, which he always shut tightly at the moment of impact, and started to unravel himself from the compli- cated tangle in which his follow through had left him, he perceived the ball breasting Continued on Page 85 stretch this term to in- | a highly | The spectacle of a flubber | Unrl mace HE world moves on, ] los wry it possible for every woman to Arrowhead have trim, neat ankies, ill-fitting hose were tolerated. And, inforcements on the mercerized ri silk stockinys, of something better, were likewise, for lack worn with good grace, until we pertected the Cushionweave”’ in Arrowhead Hosiery Cushionweave”’ is a beautiful, strong, wear-resisting silk stitch which displaces the mercerized kor thie sole, portions in the double sole ! In Style 35 the high spliced heel example: and the back seam are in the fashionable “Cushionweave”’ stitch, giving an inimitable air of distinction. Style 7 SOK weave, but is pure silk ; rti ficial silk mixed is made with the same Arrowhead Hosiery for all the tamily Richmond Hosiery Mills kstablished 1896 Chattano nz ‘Tennessee

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST

He Bought a Touring Car for Light Weight and Economy —and then put on Rex Equipment for closed car comfort and convenience To the owner of a Rex-equipped car there quickly comes a realization that he has definitely solved one of the most perplexing problems the modern motorist must face For, without sacrificing the nimbleness, the responsiveness and the desirable economy of his open car, he has gained complete closed car comfort and year-round usefulness He has, furthermore, turned his automobile into an enclosed model of marked distinction, with gracefully sweeping “hand tailored” lines, the richness of sparklingly clear glass, and interior trimming and appointments that delight good taste while they also welcome hard use All of this is brought about without retiring the car from service, for the installation of a Rex Top or Enclosure can be made 1n a few hours, and by the dealer from whom you buy your car Light weight, as every experienced driver knows, has a decided bearing on a car's economy, the ease with which it handles and the life of its mechanism. The weight of Rex equipment is no greater than that of a single extra passenger In view of these facts, it is easy to understand the rapidly increasing tendency among wellinformed automobile buyers to have their cars Rex-equipped before delivery is made, as well as to convert open cars already in use. The surprisingly low cost of Rex Tops and Enclosures is accounted for by the great production of the world’s largest manufacturer of this type of equipment Write us, telling what car you own or are thinking of buying, and we will send you an ulustrated folder showing exactly how that car will look when Rex-equipped. Installation is made in a few hours by any authorized dealer in these cars: Buick Esser Cadillac Dodge Brothers Hupmolile Hudson Haynes Reo Nash Studebaker Rex MANUFACTURING Company, CoNNERSVILLE, IND. <p The Rex Top distinctly en Aances the beauty as well as the wacfulness of any car ‘Tops and Enclosures ECONOMICAL CLOSED CAR COMFORT Closed car comfort for 876 the latest type of Rez Enclosure July 7, 1923

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(Continued from Page 83) the hill like some untamed jack rabbit of the Californian prairie. For a moment his only emotion was one of dreamlike amazement. He stood look- ing at the ball with a wholly impersonal

¥ wonder, like a man suddenly confronted ! with some terrific work of Nature. Then, as a sleepwalker awakens, he came to him- q self with a start. Directly in front of the ‘ flying pilule was a man bending to make an { approac h shot i Chester, always a concentrated golfer had crack of the brassy be Certainly he had paid no atten- His whole mind was fixed on his He measured with his eye the distance to the pin, noted the down slope of the green and shifted his stance a little to allow forit. Then, with a final swift waggle, he laid his clubhead behind the ball and slowly raised it. It was just coming down when the world became full of shouts of j ‘Fore!” and something hard smote him ; violently on the seat of his plus-fours. The supreme tragedies of life leave us momentarily stunned. For an _ instant which seemed an age Chester could not understand what had happened. True, he realized that there had been an earthquake, a cloudburst and a railway accident, and that a high building had fallen on him at the exact moment when somebody had hot him with a gun; but these happenings would account for only a small part of his He blinked several times and f i rolled his eyes wildly. And it was while rolling them that he caught sight of the gesticulating Wrecking Crew on the lower lopes and found enlightenment. Simul t taneously he observed his ball only a yard and a half from where it had been when he addressed it Chester Meredith gave one look at his j ball, one look at the flag, one look at the Wrecking Crew, look at the sky. His lips writhed, his forehead turned vermilion. Beads of perspiration started out on his forehead. And then, with his whole soul eething like a cistern struck by a thunder bolt, he spoke. “Hell!” cried Chester. : Dimly he was aware of a wordless excla- } mation from the girl beside him, but he was too distraught to think of her now. It was as if all the oaths pent up within his bosom for many weary days were struggling and jostling to see which could get out first They cannoned into each other, they linked hands and formed parties, they got them elves all mixed up in weird vowel sounds, when there was man’s work to do, scarcely heard the hind him tion to it rel stroke, . a aa rae i sensations. one so 4 the second syllable of some red-hot verb f forming a temporary union with the first ‘ yllable of some blistering noun, 8 meet j ! eyaenre cried C hester. Felicia stood staring at him. in her eyes look of one who sees visions. SEO KI Bye PS@ ww) Qrery”’ roared Chester, in "part A great wave of emotion flooded over the girl. How she had misjudged this silver tongued man! She shivered as she thought { that, had this not happened, in another five minutes they would have parted forever, sundered by seas of misunderstanding, she ‘ : was the ‘eeeet ( ! cold and scornful, he with all his music still within him. : “Oh, Mr. Meredith!” she cried faintly. fi With a sickening abruptness Chester , came to himself. It was as if somebody | had poured a pint of ice-cold water down | — his back. He blushed vividly. He realized 4, with horror and shame how grossly he had es nded against all the canons of decency i nd good taste. He felt like the man in one ; ‘ of those What Is Wrong With This Picture? } things in the advertisements of the etiquette s books. 4) “T beg—1I beg your pardon!” he mum- bled humbly. ‘Please, please forgive me. 44 I should not have spoken like that.” { i “You should! You should!” cried the girl passionately. “You should have said all that and a lot more! That awful man | ruining your record round like that! Oh, | why am I a poor weak woman with prac- tically no vocabulary that’s any use for anything?”

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST

This pleasing and practical adaptation of several architectural types into a gaining Quite suddenly, without knowing that she had moved, she found herself at his side, holding his hand. “Oh, to think how I misjudged you!” she wailed. “T thought you cold, stiff, for- mal, precise. I hated the way you sniggered when you foozled a shot. I see it all now! You were keeping it in for my sake. Can you ever forgive me?’ Chester, as I have said, was not a very quick-minded young man; but it would have taken a duller youth than he to fail to read the message in the girl’s eyes, to miss the meaning of the pressure of her hand on his. “My gosh!” he exclaimed wildly. ‘Do you mean—do you think—do you really honestly, has this made a difference? there any chance for a fellow, I mean?” Her eyes helped him on. He felt suddenly confident and masterful. Look here, no kidding, will you marry me?” he said. “T will! I will!” “Darling!” cried Chester. He would have said more, but at this point he was interrupted by the arrival of the Wrecking Crew, who panted up full of apologies; and C hester, as he eyed them, thought that he had never seen a nicer, cheerier, pleasanter lot of fellows in his life. His heart warmed to them. He made a mental resolve to hunt them up some time and have a good long talk. He waved the Grave Digger’s remorse airily aside. ‘Don’t mention it,” he said. ‘Not at all. Faults on both sides. By the way, my fiancée, Miss Blakeney.” The Wrecking Crew puffed acknowledg- ment. modern design is much favor now Is “But, my dear fellow,”’ said the Grave Digger, ‘‘it was—really it was—unforgiv- able. Spoiling your shot! Never dreamed I would se nd the ball that distance. Luc ky you weren ’t playi ing an important match.’ ‘But he was,’’ moaned Felicia. ‘He wi as trying for the course record, and now he can’t break it. The Wrecking Crew paled behind their whiskers, aghast at this tragedy; but Chester, glowing with the yeasty intoxica- tion of love, laughed lightly.

Insuring Door-ability— which includes Quiet! OUR home! ‘“*What do you mean, can’t break it?” he cried cheerily. ‘‘I’ve one more shot.” And, carelessly addressing the ball, he holed out with a light flick of his mashie- niblick “Chester, darling!" said Felicia They were walking slowly through a se- cluded glade in the quiet evenfall. How carefully you plan it to express F Se ae mural What eb ; your individuality, to fit your pleasant moods, to relicla hesitated. lat she was going to : . say would hurt him, she knew, and sang he insure your comfort, repose, peacefulness! How es sential is quiet there! And how much doors and their hinges have to do with Quiet! was so great that to hurt him was agony “Do you think ’ she began. “I wonder whether It’s about Crispin.” ‘Good old Crispin! Hinges, the most vital fact of doors, are mostly Felicia sighed, but the matter was too vital to be shirked. Cost what it might she taken for granted But not by architects; not by must speak her mind. builders; nor by those responsible for great hotels, “Chester darling, when we are married, f le fice-build é They she Care <a would you mind very, very much if we = sateen ern oOfhice-Ddulldings. wy make very sure didn’t have Crispin with us all the time?” of quiet doors. They select McKinney Hinges, for the Chester started. . 3 , , - ; sake of door-ability. “Good Lord!” he exclaimed. ‘Don’t ‘ ” 9 ” e r you like him? a Tis **Door-able”’ is fact, not mere phrase, where McKinney “Not very much,” confessed Felicia. ; “T don’t think I’m clever enough for him. is concerned. Any building worth using is worth I've rather disliked him ever since we were hinges that keep doors able. Doors that are silent, children. But I know what a friend he is of yours.” Chester uttered a joyous laugh. “Friend of mine! Why, I can’t stand the blighter! I loathe the worm! I abominate the excrescence! I only pretended we were smooth-working, when first hung true. Doors which work smoothly and silently as the years go on. Quiet doors! McKinney Hinges insure them friends because I thought it would put me There are McKinney Hinges for every sort of use, in solid with you. The man is a pest and \ should have been strangled at birth. At and to conserve any sane economy in building. You school [ used to kick him every time I saw him. If your brother Crispin tries so much as to set foot across the threshold of our little home I'll set the dog on him!” ‘My hero!” whispered Felicia. ‘‘We shall be very, very happy.”’ She drew her arm through his. ‘‘Tell me, dearest,’’ she murmured, “‘all about how you used to kick Crispin at school.” And together they wandered off into the sunset, get a clear idea of this from ‘‘ Suggestions for the Home- Builder,”’ a useful little book many have liked to utilize. May we mail you a copy? McKINNEY MANUFACTURING Western Office MCKINNEY Hinges and Butts and Hardware latches, sheit specialtie COMPANY, Pittsburgh, Pa Wrigley Building, Chicago.

ee —]

and track, door bolts and steel door mats and wrought Garage hardware, door hangers brackets, window and screen hardware,

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Tey te, Dunstan an eee Little Germs make lots of trouble YOU can’t see germs—not even when the finger starts to throb with an infection. But you can kill germs before they infect a cut if you act promptly. Bathe the scratch or cut in a solution of CREOLIN - PEARSON The Antiseptic Wash Foilow directions on the label. Creolin should al- ways be found on your bathroom When anybody is hurt, think of Creolin first—and use it. If the hurt is serious,send shelf, for the doctor. At your druggist’s MERCK&CO. 3 45 Park Piace tees " iace “On ‘ih, New York age Merck's“ Home Book lo “ey Sanitation, Con CR ains hundreds of tical sugees ions for sate uarding ving ‘first aid. s Merck THE SATURDAY WHEN “There are so many suckers here,” said one ot the leading citizens of Los Angeles, a man who for forty years or more has worked to build up the city and believes in it like gospel. “I know of no place where it is easier to put out a fake security based on a good thing. Oil is all right itself, but a rot- ten financial structure may be built upon it.”” ‘People here are especially gullible,”’ said a bank officer. ‘That is because specula- tion is in the air, because people think of it as the land of easy money, and because for so many it has proved to be these things.” “This is the best city in the country for promotional efforts,” said an experienced oil operator wiio knows all the leading fields. “ Didn’t we all come West to gam- ble? These ignorant people of small means, and yet with some surplus money, want to invest and don’t know how. What they need is a definite, specific propositior in words of one syllable; and what answers these requirements better than an oil well that you can go and see every day?” These statements may possibly be ex- treme and unfair, but in each case they were made by a man who considers himself a booster for Southern California. They could be duplicated again and again. Nor can there be any doubt as to the facts of the situation. The presence in Southern California of large numbers of retired people living on their incomes makes those not so financially fortunate eager to accumulate a competence, and a lucky strike in oil is one way of accomplishing it. It is no reflection upon the state or its southern half that this should be so. Furthermore, the long continuance of a real-estate boom, or rise in values of unbe- lievable proportions, has created an ex- tremely favorable attitude and atmosphere for buying and selling. People hope to duplicate in oil what they have done in real estate, and their success in one affords them the means to dabble in the other. “You must not think that only the tour- ists and hicks from the backwoods buy oil,” said one financial authority who spoke with brutal directness. “The more intelli- gent people are taking a shot at it. Prob- ably 10 per cent believe it is the bunk, but money has come so easy, especially in real estate, that they are willing to take a little gamble.” “The spirit in the air seems to be one of ‘We must be selling something,’’’ said a man connected with one of the departments of the state government which passes on certain classes of new promotions. “They come to us in a great hurry, demanding a permit and impatient of a moment's delay, for as they put it, ‘We have a big organiza- tion which is marking time; we have got to have something to sell right away.’”’ Worthless Oil Stocks With such conditions, outlined as they are here in only the briefest manner, it is not surprising that there should come, along with the great legitimate development of the oil resources around Los Angeles, the purely promotional schemes. For one thing, these immense new fields came in just about the time that the promotion ame in Texas was petering out. In the ast few years there has been a deal “d in- vestigating and prosecuting of the Texas oil promoter, and he has sought pastures new, Indeed, the Texas oil promoter had been working Southern California long before the big new fields in the Les Angeles basin were opened, He had fairly swamped the more gullible portion of California’s popu- lation with worthless oil stocks. J. K. Baillie, financial editor of one of the Los Angeles newspapers, who has given careful study to the subject, estimates that from January 1, 1918, to December 31, 1921, 273 Texas oil promotions were offered in Los Angeles and vicinity. Of these he says that up to late in 1922, 241 had proved worthless, twelve had paid dividends for a short time, chiefly when the stock was being | sold, and ten were worth a few dollars each | in the open market. None had really stood up, he says. But more recently it has been primarily the new discoveries in California itself | which have attracted the outside promoter. | Not oniy was he on the run farther east, with the authorities in hot pursuit, but he found in Southern California a surer — | ply of oil to talk about, a far larger supply EVENING POST July 7,1925 THE OIL FLOOD IS ON Continued from Page 4» of would-be investors right on the spot to whom he could sell such portions of the expected oil as he might be able to get and to capitalize. Besides, he did not have to use the mails to win the small investor. Moreover, the promoter-salesman type has flocked into Southern California in the last couple of years, not only because people were getting onto oil promotions elsewhere, and because the pickings were good in oil in California, but on account of the gener- ally good business conditions there because it was the white spot. “IT will not say anything about these men being crooks; perhaps they are not,” re- marked an officer of a big oil company; “but I am willing to assert that the whole bunch of fellows with vivid imaginations in oil have come here from Texas and Okla- homa. Indeed, the Californians were too slow to see the opportunity. The real boomers are from the East.” It is quite true that among the oil opera- tors and promoters, legitimate and illegiti- mate alike, now operating in California there is an amazing number of newcomers. I have talked with salesmen who had been there, according to their own account, only three weeks; and yet they were describin the wonders of California oil as if they hac operated in the state for fifty years. The Real Estate Boom But it must be remembered, too, that a great real-estate boom had been under way, and is still, indeed, apparently unabated. Notaing has been easier than for the real- estate salesman and operator to turn to oil, Many a real-estate man is now drilling for oil, and thousands of real-estate sales- men, it would appear, are selling oil units. The paraphernalia, the equipment, the offices, the personnel, the sales technic all were there. Why not make killings in two directions instead of one? Well-informed authorities say that even with the enormous boom in oil the profits made are nothing to those in real estate. A banker told me calmly that his income from an oil well was $1000 a day, and I started to congratulate him. “That's nothing,” he airily remarked as he waved my felicitations aside. ‘I made $125,000 in a single real-estate deal the other day.” The financial editor of one newspaper ventured the opinion that real estate was three times as big as oil, on the ground that real estate operates the year around while oil has its ups and downs. In any case, they mix exceeding well, far better than the proverbially unhappy combination of oil and water. For a considerable part of two days the writer walked the streets of Long Beach, which a comparatively few years ago was a quiet little seaside village where retired Iowa farmers pitched horseshoes. It is now a bustling, hustling city undergoing a fe- verish development and approaching the 100,000 mark. It seemed during those walks that there must be in the neighbor- hood of 10,000 offices devoted either to real estate or oil, separately or jointly, but with real estate still in the lead by a neck. Probably the city directory would not bear out the 10,000 figure, but that was the mental picture made. As one of the most conservative newspapers in Los Angeles remarked in April: More than 27,000 licenses for realty brokers and operators have already been issued this year in California. It is almost a wonder that we do not run out of real estate when the ac- tivities of this grand army of land salesmen are understood. But the ‘re seems to be something left, and hardly a day goes by without the open- ing of a dozen new subdivisions. Before this thing ends we will have Mount Baldy platted into bungalow lots. The Terrazas estate in Chihuahua, Mexico, is to be cut up and sold in small tracts to set- tlers. It consists of something more than 8,000,000 acres and was about the largest farm that any one man ever owned. Imagine the Los Angeles subdividers in the presence of this mag- nificent domain. They would chop it up into 40,000,000 lots, and every one with a the hee frontage. They only staked out about 100,000 lots in all Los Angeles last year, so that the Terrazas property would hold them for a while, Let no one get the idea that the promo- tional aspect is all there is to the California oil boom. The effects of so much promo- tional effort have been far-reaching, for reasons which will be gone into later; but it is only the scum on the surface, at that. Indeed, oil is very far from being new in California, or even in the southern part of the state. As everyone knows, the modern develop- ment of the state has been more closely con- nected with or perhaps dependent upon oil than that of any other of our common- wealths. Modern agriculture depends in the last analysis upon machinery, and ma- chines depend upon fuel. California has had, up to the present at least, no coal de- posits from which power could be success- fully extracted. Upon the high Sierras Nature spreads each winter a wonderful blanket of snow from which hydroelectric power can be and is being drawn in ever-increasing quantity. But it takes years to build power systems, and thus far the demand has more than kept pace with the supply. In the earlier stages of the modern agricultural, and more recently the industrial development of the state, there was not enough hydroelectric power, and if it had not been for oil Cali- fornia might still be given over to million- acre cattle ranches. Not only did oil sup; 'y the state with its fuel until hydroelectric systems could be built, but the presence of so much motor fuel no doubt forced on it the use of auto- mobiles. With more or less of an all-the- year-around climate in a considerable part of the state, and with a willingness on the part of its citizens to build a great system of good roads, the entire course of state devel- opment and the very nature of its civiliza- tion have been molded to a marked extent by petroleum. There were many years in the past when California led the country in oil production, although for several years Oklahoma was ahead. Last November, however, California rushed into first place again. Although production had been for a considerable period of time on a fairly even keel, the rapid progress of the automotive industry and the war together ate up the previously accumulated surplus, and just previous to the great flood which started in 1921 Cal- ifornia was short of gasoline. Isolated by Freight Barriers Except, however, for occasional importa tions of gasoline from the midcontinent fields, California was until very recently an island empire as far as oil was concerned. Like other parts of the world, it had its shortages and surpluses; but the big com- panies which controlled the situation man- aged to maintain the relation between production and consumption at a fairly even level. California, generally speaking, supplied its own needs, those of other portions of the west coast of the American continent, the Philippine Islands, the Hawaiian Islands and the Pacific fleet of the United States Navy. Oil was used not only by automo- biles and in railroad locomotives, farmers’ engines and the industries, but for domestic heat and fuel and in office buildings, hotels and apartment houses. Around this island there existed a freight barrier, consisting of a good portion of the continent, and it was difficult for California to ship oil east or for the eastern portions of the country to ship oil into California. If there happened to be a serious over- production, such as developed early in and prior to the war, it was put into storage. Moreover, the big companies, which con- trolled the situation, developed the oil re- sources in the central part of the state, where great acreages were to be had in cattle and desert country, without excite- ment. Asin many other sections, Standard Oil dominated the situation, although there were three or four or possibly five other companies of great size and strength. One of these has long been headed by a man who is now eighty-three years old Lyman Stewart, who, with the exception of three years in the Union cavalry during the Civil War, is said to have served the oil industry continuously since 1859, a longer period even than that of John D. Rockefeller. It should be further remarked, by way of introduction to the real story which is shortly to follow, that oi! had been found in many different parts of the state. Los Angeles itself was by no means unac- uainted with oil prior to the great strike of the last two years. E. L. Doheny, one of (Continued on Page 89) . — ee EE eS Se eae

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST

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Ginger Ale Sarsaparilla Birch Beer Root Beer THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Which explains the grin— SOME skeptical people may think the smile gets on the Eskimo kid only when the camera man tells him to “look pleasant, please.’’” That’s all wrong. The kid wears his grin all the time—he can’t help being happy. Everybody likes him, you see. Every- body likes his tingling, sparkling drink. At parties and picnics and dances he’s one of the celebrities. At home or at the club, when the crowd gets thirsty there’s a general shout for the kid and his friendly drink. They all like it, and he’s one of the most popular youngsters on earth. That’s why he’s always happy and smiling. And he’s proud of his good gin- ger ale—there couldn’t be a purer drink. Everything it contains is the best that can be had. Take a long, cold drink of Clicquot Club the next time you’re thirsty—and don’t be surprised if your smile outdoes the jolly one of the little Eskimo kid. Ir probably will. July 7, 1925 THE CLICQUOT CLUB COMPANY, Millis, Mass., U.S.A. GC aN COAG bo. GINGER to ALE a aa

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(Continued from Page 86 the figures of the oil industry, began his career in the '90’s with an oil field in what is now almost the heart of the city. Many of these wells are still pumping, and one may reach them in five or ten minutes’ time from the center of the business district. Other fields had been developed close to the city within more recent years, such as Whittier, Coyote Hills and Montebello. But, generally speaking, these were devel- oped ky the big companies without excite- ment; and though large fortunes accrued to a few extensive Swoon like the Baldwin estate and C. C. Chapman, who already was one of the most successful citrus growers in the state, there was noth- ing to approach a flood of oil or a frenzy of any kind. Besides, in the main the oil deve lopment of California was in the central portion, in the great central agricultural valley, to a considerable extent in Kern County, and with the town of Bakersfield as a sort of center. As previously stated, this ‘develop- ment was carried on by the big ——— on acreage of large extent, and until very recently, indeed, the bulk of the state pro- duction came from these sections. Down upon this a ely peaceful, stable and—considering California’s geo- graphical position—normal situation, there has descended since 1921, if I may be per- mitted to use such a figure of speech, some- thing approaching anarchy, for a time at least. What happened was the almost coin- cident or simultaneous opening up of three great new fields, all close to Los Angeles As previously stated, the opening was not exactly simultaneous; but before the effects of Huntingcon Beach had a chance to wear off, Signal Hill eame in; and when the flood from both was just coming on, the third and largest of all, Santa Fé Springs, came rush- ing in. Each fie Id was a Reb ielane’, each a sensation in itself. Responsible officials of the larger oi! com- panies told the writer that it would prob- ably be accurate to say that the boom, or flood, created by these three new fields since 1921, and more especially in the last few months, was, at the time this article was written, the biggest in the history of the country. The reason for this statement lies in the fact that these men did not know of any case in which so many fields so close together, both in time and location, had come into such a large production in such a short space of time. The production of the three new fields on May 1 was more than a hundred thousand barrels a day more than the average pro- duction for years past, for the entire state. ‘There never has been a boom like this,” said one authority. “If the market could absorb the oil, and the physical facilities were available, California could produce largely from these three new fields—by July or August of this year 1,000,000 barrels a day, or as much as the entire country pro- duced in 1916.” Oil Men’s Troubles California always has been known for the long life of its wells. As compared with cer- tain other states, there has been a less rapid rise to flush production with the inevitable subsequent decline. Besides, though dry holes are drilled in California, its percentage of dry holes is less than that of a number of other states. But in these new fields the thickness and juiciness of the sands ap- pear to be unequaled on the average even for California. On top of this is the fact that wells on the average have been drilled to unusual depths. Speaking generally, and not of exceptional cases elsewhere, the superintendent of pro- duction of one of the larger companies told the writer that as the result of a very long experience in the state he had never before encountered such depth and such heavy gas pressure, The pressure, of course, means blow-outs, gassers, gushers, fires, explosions, craters, geysers and other exciting incidents that go with such a development. To cap or con- trol wells that act like wild animals requires competent gas-fighting crews, and news- paper readers in Southern California know all about Happy Yowell, an assistant super- intendent of one of the larger companies, who heads the most talked-of crew of this kind. Frequently great damage is done, and machinery, trees, telegraph poles and build- ings are torn to bits and scattered with a sea of mud over large portions of the landscape Recently a man and his wife at Signal Hill THE SATURDAY sued an oil company for damages on the ground that an oil well put down by the company 200 feet from the house suddenly broke loose, covered the house with mud, oil and rocks, ruined the trees in the yard, bespattered and half wrecked the family automobile, and left the lawn covered with an eight-inch coat of al, mud and rocks. It was further alleged that oil and rocks rained through the windows, d: amaging the furni- ture and forcing the lady to flee precipi- tately from a sick bed. But the actual and even greater potential quantity of oil is by no means the only dis- tinctive feature. Heretofore most Califor- nia oil has been relatively low in gasoline content, and when gasoline was imported it was not so much because the total produc- tion of oil in the state was small as on ac- count of its low content. But these newer fields have reversed the situation. in one of these fields it is said that the gasoline con- tent is actually 30 per cent greater than in certain of the older California fields, and several authorities stated that where for- merly the proportions of gasoline and fuel oil had been about 35-65 much of the new oil was running 60-40. The Neck of the Oil Bottle One incidental result has been the spring- ing up of many new makes of gasoline in Southern California. According to various authorities, there are perhaps thirty new marketers of gasoline, and it is obvious that there are at least a dozen new brands, some with startling names. In consequence there is a mad race for patronage, in which dozens of small independents along with the three biggest companies, the Standard, Shell and Union, are engaged. In one respect at least the opening of these fields was up to a certain point very fortunate for the country. It came at a time when Mexican production was falling off and many Eastern refining and market- ing companies were worrying about future sources of supply. As already explained, California had been an island in the world of oik but in recent months its isolation has disappeared as fast as tankers could be obtained to carry the stuff through the Panama Canal. Suddenly California found that the neck of its oil bottle was the Pan- ama Canal and the available tankerage fa- cilities. When this article was written one Eastern company was planning to transport 20,000,000 barrels a year through the canal. Now, of course, no such flood of oil can come to a section without enriching it in many ways. Residents of Southern Cali- fornia like to compare the wealth produced from oil in a single year with that which has come from gold in many years. They com- pare it with copper in a neighboring state, and with silver. They point to the con- gested port of San Pedro, to the general re- sulting activity of business and to the vast supplies of natural gas for industrial and domestic purposes which come with crude petroleum. Oil, of course, is real wealth when it is taken out of the ground, and it flows twenty- four hours a day. It is a sheer addition to production, as it were. No greater vehicle exists, perhaps, for the rapid distribution of wealth among large numbers of people. But, on the other hand, it sells for the prevailing market price. Oil is of no use running around in streams in orange groves, horti- cultural establishments and country roads. indeed, it produces only damage suits under such conditions. Oil, to be of any value, must be stored in steel tanks or carried away in pipe lines, tank cars or steamships to some place where it is wanied, for naturally it is oa wanted in the oil fields themselves. But if the pro- duction of oil is suddenly multiplied, if the normal production for the whole western slope of the American continent is doubled in a year’s time, there is no use in talking about the wealth to be won from oil with- out considering the price element. For it takes time and costs vast sums to double the normal facilities to handle oil. But the individual producer can’t allow 5000 or 10,000 barrels of sticky crude pe- troleum to run into his back parlor each day. He must sell it immediately, and if there is no place for the buyer to put it the producer will sell it for whatever it will bring. Besides, it is questionable business to build storage for a temporary peak load In other words, there are two sides to this golden flood. It is molten bullion all right enough, but it is not nearly so golden at a dollar or even considerably less a barrel as it is when the price ranges between two and EVENING POST three dollars a barrel. And to be perfectly specific, let it be said now that one more chapter in the long annals of senseless exploitation and shocking waste of great natural resources has been added in the development of oil in Southern California in the last year or so. “Never has there been such a potential production of oil without the facilities to handle it,” said a representative of an im- portant producing interest. ‘Under these circumstances an oil well doesn’t mean any- thing any more. For a considerable time production and consumption in this state had ranged normally around 300,000 to 350,000 barrels a day. If, with these new fields, production could now be kept around 500,000 or 600,000 barrels the outlook would be one of great prosperity. But the state is now producing 750,000 barrels a day, with the peak not here. “What a pathetic and expensive thing it is that these three pools could not have been opened three years apart, that development could not have been spread over a longer period. To spread it out is for the selfish in- terest of the great investment in the oil in- dustry, but it is even more in the national interest. Not only are resources conserved but in the long run oil can be produced cheaper and sold cheaper if the se floods and famines could be prevented.’ This is no place, of course, to attempt an estimate of future price movements. There are far too many factors on both the demand and the supply sides for a layman to assume the prophetic réle. With asteady increase in automobiles and general prosperity, the de- mand for gasoline seems certain to increase But in a year or two big production may come in Venezuela. On the other hand And so it goes. It does not matter so far as this article is concerned, for this is an ac- count of what has been happening in the very recent past, and not a prophecy. Really to understand the California oil boom one must go further than the richness of the sands or the high gasoline content. Indeed, the controlling faetor has been a wholly different one. In plain language, the ownership of the land under which the oil was found was so split up that it afforded an opportunity for natural human greed to operate on a scale which has overreached itself. That oil was to be found in these three places had long been known, or at least sus- pected. Several of the big companies had experimented or wildcatted for a consider- able length of time, and, in fact, each of the big fields was finally brought in or at least originally developed by one of the big three—Standard, Union and Shell Competitive Drilling As long ago as 1907 the Union Oi! Com- pany obtained leases in Santa Fé Springs from one Marius Meyer, and started in Oc- tober of that year to wildcat. It was not until October, 1921, that the company fi- nally brought in a big well there. Indeed, it spent twelve years of costly experimenta- tion on the three Meyer wells, whose pro- duction finally proved to be the paltry figure of 150 barrels. It spent two years also on the first Bell well, the real beginning of the district. It was the activity of the Shell Company, part of one of the largest of the interna- tional oil combinations, that brought in Signal Hill. But twelve years ago the Union Oil Company was within a quarter of a mile of where the Shell finally struck it big at Signal Hill, and could easily have kept for the merest trifle the whole top of the hill, which is now worth hundreds of millions. But though the big companies started the development of these fields, the feverish drilling which has produced oi! enough to stir the markets of the world has been due to wholly different causes. It was, as just stated, the character of the land ownership, the fact that so much of the land was broken up into town lots, especially at Sig- nal Hill, that really brought the flood, As explained in technically accurate and succinct form by R. E. Cullom, state oil and gas supervisor, ‘‘The primary cause of over production has been the competitive drill ing to meet lease requirements in small property holdings.” This, however, needs to be expanded. An official map of Signal Hill shows roughly upwards of 1000 separate lots. This hill, a few miles back of the city of Long Beach, commanding a splendid view of the ocean, was sieenel as a residential section; and before the drilling began on an active scale was occupied by many residences of all 89 classes. On the higher slopes were very fine houses, with those of more moderate pre- tensions in other locations Though Huntington Beach and Santa Fé Springs are not split up to quite the same extent, nevertheless, there are many owners in both places, In the latter place there are two large holdings, the Bell ranch and the property of the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe Railway; but most of the remaining property is divided into small ranches, num- bers of them owned by people of heretofore very limited means and modest stations in life. Now one of the most important prin- ciples of oil-field development is the proper spacing of wells. It differs in different fields, of course, and authorities do not always agree. The more conservative company officials say that previous experience in Cal- ifornia indicates that one well to ten acres is enough, provided the oil is not wanted in a hurry, while if it is needed quickly, and the pressure, depth and richness are un- usually great, one well to five acres is enough The producing department of the Stand- ard Oil Company made a tabulation early in May which showed that the average number of acres per well, both drilling and producing in Santa Fé Springs, was six- tenths of one acre, while on Signal Hill the average was .73 of one acre per well, Eccaomic Waste But even if we allow for overconserva- tism, and reduce the figure to three or even two acres to the well, we find that all recog- nized principles have been cast aside. One of the highest officers of one of the largest companies in the state, and an experienced field-production man, estimated for the writer that $37,500,000 had been thrown away already at Signal Hill by overdrilling. Late in April there were 600 rigs built or in course of construction on a producing area of 500 acres, whereas 100 wells would be considered ample to draw the oil from 600 acres. Estimating the cost of drilling a well at $75,000, which is conservative, the sheer waste of 500 needless wells is $37, And there are two other fields where the situation is or has been almost as bad These figures, it should be repeated, are conservative. An official of another com- pany said that in one area of forty acres on Signal Hill there are forty-two wells, although four would be enough to draw the oil. There are places where derricks are said to be five feet apart, although I did not ac- tually see any that were much less than per- haps thirty or forty feet apart. But I saw plots on which oil wells were being drilled so small that there was no room for an en gine, and steam actually had to be piped from across the street Now, it is bad enough to blow away $37 500,000 in a single wii field on needless der ricks, pumps, engines and the like; but this is not the worst of it. f The real crime, of course, is giving away oil at ridiculously low prices when it is not needed, of wasting in a great hurry a state’s most valuable mineral resource when it might be distributed over a long period of time. There is shocking waste also in this hys teria of drilling from the loss of natural gas which if not taken care of at once dissipates into porous formations or is discharged into the atmosphere. Before the discovery of the three new fields almost enough of this gas was produced to supply the demand. Ac cording to one estimate, made late in April gas equivalent to 57,000 barrels of oil was being lost each twenty-four hours in the three new fields. Wastage of gas in the atmosphere is, of course, largely due to excessive drilling Morevver, the gas companies which might be expected to build transmission facilities to take care of the increased supply, exces sive as it is for present needs, naturally hesitate to make permanent investments when the drilling is so frenzied that the re source being exploited cannot last. It i case of puff—it will be gone The principle of town-lot drilling is ex actly the same as when six boys, each with a straw in one glass of soda water, pull as hard as they can. The idea is not to get one sixth of the soda, but all that can be had In town-lot drilling the idea is te get there first and draw out not so much the oii that lies under one’s own land as that which lies under the property of one’s! eighbors The point is not to leave recoverable oil in the Continued on Page 93

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST July 7, 19253

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 91 SEDAN *285° ~ Keerine PACE with the demand for this | new Sedan has been a difficult task ever since it was first shown-—even with production more than doubled. & The Franklin Sedan gives people the finest ride they ever had. That, in short, is the story of its unequalled road ability and accounts for its great popularity. It is without a closed car rival in comfort, easy handling and making time. Powerful New Six Motor Beautiful Body Design Many Franklin owners are among those who have been unable to get this new car because of the ov«r- dewand, During July, Franklin’s q 2ist Sales Anniversary, dealers will make special effort to take care of their requirements.

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST July 7,1925 THE GENERAL CORD TIRE {OURING is one occasion when users of the General Cord are thankful that this tire has other qualities besides great mileage. On an all-day trip you can really appreciate the tire that is built for low air pressure. It is indeed a delight to travel on General Cords, particularly after using tires that cannot give you satisfactory mileage without being so highly inflated that they are nearly as uncomfortable as solid tires. goes a long way to make friends Generals protect you and your car from the jolts and jars of the road with greater cushioning than you have thought any tire capable of. They carry you to your night’s resting place with the firm conviction that their reputation is amply justified. To tour with comfort is to ride on Generals. mi2 3 4. T IN AKRON, OHIO. BW THE oe E >» RUBBER ¢ te.

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Continued from Page 89 ground until such time as the highest profits may be obtained from its sale, but to get out so much oil quickly that no matter how fasu the price declines the first guy on the ground will pay out. There is some advantage, to be sure, in spreading out the riches from oil over a large population of landowners. Not only are many people enriched, for a short time at least, but general businegs is stimulated to an incredible degree by the influx of great numbers of workmen, promoters and the like. There is a typical point of view which sees no harm in the most wasteful ex- ploitation of natural resources, provided it makes good business for the time being In one of the oil fields I talked to a pro- fessional booster and publicity man. He was running ar alleged oil newspaper—in reality a screaming broadside of superlative laudation of the promoters in the district. He was employed by these same promoters, but was far too shrewd a man to believe in them. With the utmost cynicism he ex- plained to me the lies and deceptions in the wild claims made by these gentry, and even denounced them far more roundly than if he had not been in their employ. But then his manner changed, and he added seri- ously, ‘But the promoter forces the big companies to develop the field.” A Contrast in Methods Strictly speaking, it is not the promoter who forces on the development of an oil field against sanity and reason, but the in- dividual landowner. The landowner espe- cially if he is poor, is not much interested in the future wealth of the state or nation, but is extremely interested in making $1000 a day for himself from oil, even if it is only for a year. The mere prospect of such wealth makes him ravenous. The oil, of course, is there and will stay there if nobody else in the vicinity sucks it out. Moreover, it will be a far better investment for the landowner some day in the perhaps not dis- tant future when oil sells for two or three times as much as current quotations But such considerations are of no avail unless individuals coéperate, unless each landowner is willing to forego a well on his own property, which bears his own name, and unless each landowner is willing to sup- press for a little while the dazzling vision of immediate riches. Such a suppression, such an unnatural inhibition, is contrary appar- ently to all principles of American initiative and freedom. Just as our ancestors fought for the right to worship as they pleased, so the modern lot owner will fight at the drop of a hat for the right to drill an oil well in his own back yard. The big companies dislike to drill on small areas, and abhor drilling on small par- cels, especially if hundreds of other oper- ators are drilling on equally tiny lots in the immediate vicinity. Such operations con- stitute a frenzy, an excitement, a mad rush to suck out the oil at once, which inevitably means a short life, even if it be a merry one. But the big companies are not interested in enjoying a short, merry life. That is just exactly what they are trying toavoid. Their great object is to pay dividends on stock for years to come. What they want pri- marily is to build up reserves of oil in the ground. Their geologists and scouts are al ways on the lookout for several hundred acres which may be bought or leased cheaply, and under which oil may be found ten or fifteen years from now when the present fields have dribbled away to a few hundred barrels a day. But when oil is found on a subdivided town-lot area each owner sees a quick chance to pull out for life. Unless he is an idiot, however, he knows he must pull mighty fast to get ahead of his neighbors Thus when the owner leases his land to an oil operator to drill upon he puts into the lease a clause requiring rapid drilling. But that is just where the big companies hate like poison to sign on the dotted line. They do not want to drill rapidly unless economic conditions warrant, and least of all when everybody else is drilling so extensively as to smash the markets. The big company has refineries, pipe lines and marketing facilities. It wants a steady supply of oil for years to come. So it tries to prevent the landowner from insisting upon immediate Crilling; and to prevent the landowners from cutting one another's throats, as weil as that of the oil market, it attempts to persuade them to form a com- munity lease. In this way enough acreage is tied up in the hands of a big company to prevent the immediate draining of the area, which, of course, takes place when hundreds of independent wells are put down at once There are cases where the community lease solves the problem, but in many cases the owners will not go into them. They are afraid they may have to wait too long for the big company to drill. More than that, each owner becomes litera!ly obsessed with the idea of having a well in his own yard, and of having it named after him But if the big companies, following well- recognized principles, were reluctant to take on all the town lots in Southern California, the promoters showed no such hesitation. It was their supreme opportunity, and they poured in like an army when the big dis- coveries were made. Not only did the oil promoters from Texas show up but the hordes of real-estate promoters already on the ground, and an endless stream of busi- ness adventurers, honest and dishonest, of every description, headed for the fields These people, of course, feel no responsi- bility about supplying the country with oil ten, fifteen or twenty years from now They are not interested in building up large reserves. They are out for a killing and are quite willing to drill as quickly as any land- owner desires. Most of them have very little money to start with; the public sup- plies the funds by buying stock or units. A few of the promoters, of course, are crooked and merely skip with the money without even attempting to drill at all. But in the main the promoter wants to make a showing of oi'. He pretty much is obliged to find something, or else his health demands a change of climate. The Stand ard Oil Company can drill dry holes ‘by the score without worrying the stockholders the least bit; but a promoter who collects money from the public to drill one or two wells must tell his investors that they have lost 100 per cent of their money unless he strikes oil before that particular field has been drained. Besides, the promoter prefers to find some oil, if for no higher motive than to be able to reload the sucker with stock in some other scheme. Still more to the point is the fact that the promoter can afford to meet any financial demand or requirement of the landowner, no matter how onerous, unreasonable and uneconomic it may be. The big companies, on the other hand, even the Standard Oil, would quickly go broke if they tied them selves up with too many high-priced leases requiring immediate drilling. Not only are they buying oil lands and leases as much for the future as for the present but a large part of their capital is tied up in pipe lines, tank ers, refineries, reservoirs, tank farms and marketing systems Facilities for Distribution In fact, it is the big company, especially the Standard, which buys the oil the smal! producer, whether a real professional or a stock promoter, produces. The big com pany has too many other responsibilities to buy all the expensive town lots in sight, and naturally cannot risk more than a fractior of its enormous capital except on its own terms upon intensive, competitive drilling of offset wells on town lots for a quick flush production to be followed by a dribble But the landowner and promoter are not worried about the expense of building re fineries, tan: farms, steamships and the like. That is done by the big companies to which they sell the oil. Nor are they wor ried about oil reserves twenty years hence Nor do they worry even about the fact that the tremendous flush production is only a temporary peak at most The promoter has nothing at stake, an way; nor has the landowner. Any damagé done to his buildings and crops must b« paid for immediately with great liberality by the operator, and if any oil is found he gets his agreed-upon share. For him every thing is clear gain. The promoter and land owner have but one object in mind—to make a fortune, make it quick and cash in Fach is fairly certain to get his if oil is found; and even if it is not, the owner still has his land and cash bonus, while the pro moter has probably got his little pile or drilling rake-offs, stock-selling commis sions and the like. In neither case does either have to consider a thousand future complicated factors, as do the big com panies. The landowner, blinded by greed demands a big royalty and bonus, and the promoter is the one who naturally offers it The big companies obtain their money from the public, to be used in the oil in dustry as a whole, in a hundred different THE SATURDAY EVENING POST

— \ Lelping lo Keep the PY = D te mother take her lonyg-needed vaca

tion this year with the assurance that yy AN dad and “the boys” aren't lett to spend ry their evenings gloomily in = an “empty " house.” Radio has banished that dull, lonely - evening idea once and for all—the “stay yr at-home” nowadays can choose his own brand of entertainment from a number of programs practically every hour. - But a receiving set is only as good as its r“~, yx reproducer—make sure you have the yas Magnavox (electro-dynamic) Reproducer tj Supreme. f When ‘Magnavox invites you’ the Radio stage 75.00 { | if fa mpere for f i troy wad dea everval / $60.00 pence ud PJ J net . AS R 3 Magnavox Reproducer ; th 14-inch curvex hort THE MAGNAVOX CO. for home Oakland, Cal t $35.00 New York: 370 Seventh Avenus eee, She {lia stay Supreme |

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ‘THE greatest submarine cable ever manufactured will be in the service of THE MACKAY SYSTEM about August Ist, carrying messages between America and Europe. Its carrying capacity will be in the neighborhood of 1200 letters a minute —600 in each direction simultane- ously—nearly twice as fast as any deep-sea cable now in operation anywhere. THE MACKAY SYSTEM, ever seeking torender better service to the communicat- ing public, is producing this newest and ge cable that fresh marvels of speed may be accomplished, while highest records for accuracy are maintained. Independent Competitive Progressive POSTAL TELEGRAPH COMMERCIAL CABLES CLARENCE H.MACKAY, PRESIDENT | ways and for years to come. The promoter gets his money from the public, too; but the idea in his case is to drill one or at the most two or three wells, and suck out the | oil quick before several hundred other op- erators have grabbed it. As far as the pro- moter is concerned, he might as well offer | the landowner 35 per cent or 50 per cent as 12 per cent or 1624 per cent. It is all the same to him. ite is playing for high stakes. In the language of the oil fields, he wants to put some red ink on the map. The usual royalty paid landowners in California fields, like other parts of the country, was for a long period about one- eighth of the oil, with an occasional one- sixth. But with the inrush of promoters and amateurish newcomers experimenting with | the business, all competing for good leases, | the prevailing royalty in the new fields has | risen to 1624 per cent, 35 per cent, and even 50 per cent, together with exorbitant cash bonuses. In time, of course, such terms are sure to eat up both the investor and the op- erator. But it may be well at this point to get the landowners’ viewpoint. Said one | who had a small acreage in the heart of a | big field: “I felt that this was going to be a case of wild defensive drilling to tap the oil as fast as possible. One of the big companies wanted me to go into a community lease; but I have always been a good sport, and was willing to take my chances going it alone. A promoter came to me who said he could get action, and, of course, action is what the landowner wants. The oil busi- ness is largely a gamble on men, and I was willing to gamble on this one. I thought by a bold stroke he might put it over, and he has. He told me he would go down like a greyhound, that he was a wolf on oil, and he os proved his statements. “I was surrounded by three big com- panies, and the geologists told me they would drain away my oil. But my man got down five wells on my nine acres so quickly that we instead of the big companies have got the oil.” I do not wish to convey the idea that the big companies have stayed out of these new fields altogether. Far from it. As stated be- fore, they started the fields and had some acreage in most cases in all of them. But they greatly underestimated the produc- tivity of the fields, and this fact, together with the split-up character of land owner- ship, opened the door to a horde of pro- moters and amateur operators, willing to meet the landowners’ terms. Hysterical Speculation When the promoters and smaller oper- ators began their hysterical development the big companies felt obliged to jump in to protect their holdings and to drill many off- set wells. They did not like to be left out of fields of major importance, and perhaps their stockholders were a bit nervous at the success of so | smaller concerns. In any case, everyone, big and little alike, has caught hold of the lion’s tail and all are finding it difficult and painful to let go. But it is probably safe to say that con- siderably more than half the increased pro- duction is accounted for by the activities of operators other than the half dozen big companies. Many of these, of course, are wholly legitimate small companies, large in- dividual but experienced operators, and groups of business men who are experiment- ing with the business, in addition to the typical oil and real-estate promoters. Re- ferring to the economic loss resulting from such intensive drilling, one company offi- cial said that it constituted an embarrassing indictment of the oil business, but was not the fault of the real oil man. However unfortunate from an economic | standpoint these excitements may be —and, of course, they have occurred in other parts of the country as well—there cannot fail to be a keen interest in the immediate enrich- ment of the communities involved. For there is always a stage in an oil excitement when people seem to go mad and deal in millions as if that were the common coin of the country. Men will buy an acre of land in an oil field one day for $5000 and sell it the next day for $30,000. There is the wildest specu- lation in land, in leases and in royalties. Apparently there is no top anywhere. Land } which a few months earlier was refused for | what seemed good reasons by big companies may actually produce oil in the hands of | utterly inexperienced amateurs, and be | worth at least a dozen times the former sell- | ing price of the property itself. Values pile July 7, 1923 up on values until the never-to-be-avoided crash comes. During this season frantic efforts are made by operators to get possession of cemeteries, church and school yards, rail- road rights of way, the grounds of insane asylums and other curious and unexpected places. Bitter fights occur in town councils over the extent to which drilling may go, whether any area shall remain apart from the at once destroying and enriching der- rick. Generally speaking, there is opposition at the start to drilling within the confines of a city. At the beginning, efforts were made to bar all drilling within the city limits of Long Beach. Refineries have been kept out of the city, and to date no drilling has been permitted in the cemetery. But speaking not specifically of Long Beach but of the country in general, the oil derrick usually penetrates in time to even the most hallowed spots, provided the profit lure is great enough. At one time there was a project for the city to buy all of Signal Hill, and landscape architects were employed to make plans for an extensive park system, all without any knowledge that a vast fortune in oil lay be- neath. Indeed, a resident of the city, an oil prospector or wildcatter by profession, spent years in wildcatting in Texas and Oklahoma, only to return to his home town to find that a greater oil field was being de- veloped in the immediate vicinity of the old home cemetery and waterworks than any he had been able to find so far afield. Signal Hill Becomes Famous But though the city, largely through the land near its waterworks system, is the largest single landowner and will probably be in the long run the largest beneficiary on Signal Hill, it never acquired the entire hill, and, of course, could not do so after the oil boom started. In a single month, however, it has received more in royalties than the entire proposed purchase price of land it thought of buying. For a long time the owners, or at least a number of them, opposed drilling on the hill, and were determined to keep it a resi- dential district. Indeed, it is said, although I did not confirm the report, that as long ago as 1916 one of the larger companies, which had leases at that time, feared to drill because of the possib!e danger of flood- ing the city below with oil. Certain laymen thought it a crazy idea to drill so close to a city; and, indee d, the city’s water system seems to have e been threatened at one time by the demands made upon it by the sud- den and startling influx of 600 oil wells, mostly within the city limits. Not until June, 192i, did anyone in Long Beach know there would be an oil field of the first importance under its fine resi- dential hill. In 1894 there were only 800 people in the town. Men now living re- member herds of wild horses rushing over the bluff of Signal Hill and being killed by the fall. In 1920 the population had grown to more than 50,000, and now there are be- tween 75,000 and 100,000, at least 10,000 or 20,000 of whom may leave when the flush production is over. Long Beach was a quiet, staid place, with its large proportion of retired Middle West- erners, until it struck oil. Now the streets are filled with great throngs of people, the traffic is dense, and groups stand on every street corner, discussing oil and real estate. In the banks long lines of retired farmers, with market basket on arm, wait their turn to see the officials, who cannot take the time te interview customers in their offices, but only through windows. The crowds are strangely mixed—elderly retired farmers, tourists, slick real-estate and oil salesmen and the khaki-clad oil operators and work- men. Real estate has had a phenomenal boom, and tall buildings are going up with the same feverish activity that marks the oil development itself. More real estate is being put in escrow, so it is said, in the branch offices of Los Angeles banks in Long Beach than in the main offices in the big city itself. Always as the result of an oil boom the enriched landowners and other residents put up office buildings as monuments to their financial sagacity in having owned land under which oil was discovered. But there are other reasons for this develop- ment in Long Beach. Growth is limited in at least two, and possibly three, directions. Signal Hill, with its miles of oil wells, (Continued on Page 96)

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SATURDAY EVENING POST ? Hew long will your brake lining last? © Just what is the mileage record for brake lining? We'd like to know. One owner * will tell us that he has driven 40,000 miles on Raybestos without renewing lining. Another will state that he has gone 75,000 miles, and so on. Every time this hap- ,/ pens we think the record has been reached, but now Mr. William A. White of J Kast Orange, New Jersey, writes that he has driven 125,000 miles on Raybestos 4 through 29 states and over the top of Pike’s Peak. He sends a strip of the original Raybestos which we illustrate. Worn a little, of course, but 125,000 miles is quite r a distance. Do you know of any other brake lining that could stand this test? Raybestos is built to wear well. Woven on our own looms, of long-tibre asbesto ~ which withstands wear. ‘Treated by the original Raybestos compound to assure wear. o 3 y Guaranteed for at least one year’s wear. Why be content with ordinary brake lining, . . ¥ low mileage and continua! costs for renewal, when for a few cents more you can have Raybestos?—the lining that wears and wears and wears. . The Way is the Safe Way. It you’d like to know more about Reybestos an . the splendid service it renders, send the coupon for our interesting book ‘*BRAKES —Their Ca: and Upkeep.’’ rHE RAYBESTOS COMPANY BRIDGEPORT, CONN Ge» gR Please . me, tape THE RAYBESTOS COMPANY Facrori£ Br dgeport, Contr Peterborough, Ont., Ca . } Stratford, Conn London, England ‘“*BRAKES—1 r Care and Upkeep,’’ wnhich il] Brancue } » ¢ ’ re } rile ) un reia rakc Service al avoid Detroit, 2631 Woodward Ave. San |} . I Chicago, 1603 South Michigan A ve “ Brake Inspection— Your Protection’ ~~" \

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Bringing back the “Swimmin’Hole” ( y > a, oe ! Where the Looked like a baby river that was laying half asleef The Old Swimmin’-Hole, by James Whitcomb Riley. Even in the inland towns and cities, there’s one cool spot the modern swimming pool. Here gather young and old, reviving all the joys that Dad to know at the Old Swimmin’ Hole. used After a sweitering day, its great to dive into the cool deep water to feel your nerves relax and your bodies take on new energy revival of swimming, anew style anew name, the Carl Jantzen, himself a Jantzen-stitch— a wool fabric, with the elasticity of rubber. He patented the non-rip crotch id the bow-trunk, which make the Jantzen suit fit perfectly, wet or dry No other suit can be like a Jantzen. aN lant cn WwW ill outwear& sev eral ordinary ind know what and comfort in swimming Jantzens at the better stores ’s, children’s. Style Book ent upon request, JANTZEN KNITTING MILLS id, Oregon Along with the has come summing suit swimmer, created pure ults, (oct yours now, real freedom is. I ’ men’s, women ook for W ive or wr omptly by express tte. The National Swimming Suit NEVER BINDS~NEVER SAGS ‘THE SATURDAY (Continued from Page 94) checks building in one direction, and the Pacific Ocean bars growth on the opposite side. Oil refineries, the harbor and an in- dustrial district somewhat limit expansion in still a third direction. Consequently the people of Long Beach are going up in the air, not only with office buildings, banks, newspaper offices and hotels but also with many apartment houses. A number of codperative apartment houses are being put up, and it is said that if a man signs A one of these apartments during the day he can sell out at a profit be- fore sundown. Real-estate values generally have doubled in an incredibly short space of time. Naturally, the more conservative residents do not expect such conditions to last, for they know that when flush produc- tion ends a portion of the population will vanish. But it is hoped by means of new in- dustries and new improvements to capital- ize and perpetuate the present activity. Despite t the obvious limitations of such a boom, few cities have ever been in such a fortunate position as Long Beach finds it- self in today. Up to the last week in April it had received $300,000 in royalties from oil wells on its own property, and a con- servative estimate placed the royalties for the next twelve months at $500,000. Already discussion has taken place as to whether Long Beach will become a taxless city;, but all the representative citizens with whom I talked deplored the idea; and, to say the least, it is rather premature. Oil fields are very uncertain and fickle sources of wealth; and although $500,000 a year from oil is not to be sneezed at, it is only a fraction of the annual city budget at that. Besides, any immediate abolition of taxes, | or even a reasonable certainty of such ac- tion, might cause a real-estate boom along- | side of which even the present one would | pale. | foolish than to abolish taxes entirely and Moreover, nothing could be more then later reimpose them. On the other hand, the general feeling is that taxes should be ubelly reduced, and, in fact, there has been a decrease in assess- ments ‘already. But most people feel that the oil is a capital asset, and should not, any more than insurance money, be spent for current expenses. According to the opinions expressed by newspaper publishers and editors, chamber-of-commerce officials, bankers and business men generally, the sensible idea ‘is to use the oil’ money for great public improvements, such as an au- ditorium, more parks, and above all for an enlarged water-supply system. The Long-Run Beneficiaries What Long Beach has to reckon with, | however, is the retired farmer with a mod- erate competence. These men are along in years, dislike high taxes in the extreme and | are said to vote against public improvements | on general principles. Although numbers of people in Long Beach told me that the idea of a taxless city was a silly dream, the furi- | ous campaign being waged against it by | local newspapers would indicate a suspicion | that the lovely idea of no taxes has already | occurred to a few of the voters and tax- payers. Fortunate as the city is in a financial sense, no one knows how much its royalties will be; and agreement as to the use of the money in case the amount proves very large will be difficult to reach. Certainly, quite a little wisdom will be required to steer through so large and yet such an uncertain windfall. At any rate, the effect of oil upon the landowner, whether it be at Long Beach, Santa Fé Springs or any other oil field, must always, from the very nature of the case, prove a story worth the telling. Not only is the effect of sudden wealth upon its re- cipients a profitable and at times an amus- ing study but it cannot be stated too emphatically or too often repeated that the landowners as a class, rather than the in- vestors in oil stock, units, leases and the like, are the real long-run beneficiaries of every oil excitement. Experienced operators in California told the writer that Oklahoma was a better place to study the effects of sudden wealth be- cause of its large Indian population. Pos sibly there is something more actually bizarre in the idea of an Indian ward of the Government, living in poverty and with only government doles, Pvnh & becoming wealthy than in the same experience befall- ing a group of average white folks. But I doubt whether people at large are really as much interested in what happens to a few EVENING POST Indians as they are in the good fortune of their own kind. Possibly there was more of the dramatic in the effect of the oil discoveries in the Ranger and Burkburnett fields of Texas in 1918, because the landowners there were mostly starved-out ranchers and farmers who had suffered from a three years’ drought and were saved by oil. The recent discoveries in Southern Cali- fornia have been upon the property of aver- age American citizens, not all farmers and not all city people—street-car conductors, advertising men, orange growers, rich and poor, numerous real-estate dealers, shoe- store owners, bank presidents, day labor- ers, newspaper reporters, proprietors of gas-filling stations, widows living from the proceeds of diminutive chicken yards, old soldiers, janitors, clerks, teachers in the high schools, grade-school teachers, automobile salesmen, stenographers, lawyers, barbers, Mexican farmers, a traveling salesman for men’s underwear, a retired millionaire from the Illinois distilleries, two Japanese chil- dren, eleven and nine years of age respec- tively, whose father bought a few lots for them before the passage of the alien-land act, and a sixty-five-year-old contractor. Encyclopedia Wells This, of course, does not exhaust the list of people or the variety of those who have or may profit from oil. William G. McAdoo, former Secretary of the Treasury, is inter- ested in drilling on property which belongs to the Young Women’s Christian Associa- tion. At Huntington Beach a rich man’s hunting club, which was costly enough to get into even in the beginning, is much more expensive now, because the memberships have enhanced in value through discovery of oil on the property. Six or seven years ago a firm engaged in selling an encyclopedia gave with each set of books a small lot, well back from the ocean at Huntington Beach. The books were sold in other states than California; and as the lots were only twenty or twenty- five feet in width, many persons who had bought them neglected to pay the neces- sary taxes. Indeed, it is said that several hundred lots were sold subsequently to satisfy the tax collector, mostly to persons in the vicinity, at amounts ranging from $100 to $250 apiece. Today the lots are worth at least $2000 apiece, and owners receive in royalties as much in a few months as the original cost of the set of books. Quite suitably, several of the wells on the property are known as encyclopedia wells. Even on Signal Hill the land was of but slight value until quite recently. One bank president bought three lots merely to get an acacia tree. Another banker sold for the merest trifle land which is now worth at least $3,000,000, and is decent enough to say he is glad of it, because hundreds of peo- ple have benefited. “T told a real-estate agent to buy me one acre up there,” said an owner, “because I wanted to build a house with a terrace effect and the bluff afforded an opportunity for excellent landscape work. He came back and said that the best plot he could get for me was an eight-acre piece. I ob- jected to so much land, and he promised he would take seven acres off my hands if I gave him a little time. ‘Within a week of the time when the Shell Company began to drill up there I took a party of friends up one afternoon and tried to unload the seven acres upon them. They were all men of substance, but they couldn’t see it. The next thing I knew I was offered $200,000 for my land by an oil company.” Many landowners are annoyed at the first reports of oil, provided they live upon the property or have growing crops there. One wealthy Easterner had a $100,000 resi- dence among the orange groves at Santa Fé Springs. To one of his less wealthy neighbors who was anxious to strike oil the rich man said, “Of course, we hope you get oil, but we don’t want it.” “T have not heard that he refused the royalties when they came,” remarked the neighbor a year or so later. If oil were not so prolific of wealth the landowners would object still more vigcr- ously. The Shell Company had to buy a $40,000 or $50,000 handsome white stucco house at the summit of Signal Hill to get the lease at all, and uses what amounts to a palace for such a purpose as a workmen's boarding house. Mr. Bell's pleasant ranch house at Santa Fé Springs has been put to July 7,1923 the same use, and so it goes with scores of fine places. Oil more than pays for them. There is a type of farmer whose chief in- terest upon the discovery of oil seems to be to obtain a minute and exact accounting for every blade of grass destroyed. He is more interested apparently in the damage to standing crops than in any millions he may adie ieen oil. A bird in hand is worth more to him than a hundred in the bush In one instance an operator signed up with a farmer for a huge spot-cash bonus and a big royalty in the prospective oil. His men went to work at once and trampled down several rows of beans. The farmer de- manded immediate payment for the beans, whereupon the operator told him to go to a hot place. But when the farmer's lawyer called upon the operator the next morning the latter settled for the beans without further argument. But in the main, of course, the landowners glory in their new-found wealth. As one oil operator somewhat inaccurately but feel- ingly remarked, ‘All that the people in Long Beach have to do is to pitch horse- shoes and compare production checks.”” Th« larger the number of landowners the more sure there is to be excitement and a loud noise of much talking about wells brought in or about to be brought in. There is no doubt that many landowners in very straitened circumstances have prof ited. There are barbers and street-car con ductors whose income, for the moment at least, is $100 a day, and widows with small chicken farms who have become affluent A frugal day laborer of German or Austrian descent who worked on the estate of one of the old native California families near Long Beach was urged several years ago by a banker to buy lots on Signal Hill because the view was good and the lots might have considerable value some day, in the opinion of the banker, provided transportation fa- cilities should ever become available. How They Blow it In My understanding is that this former laborer does not read or write English. But for a time recentiy, it was alleged by one of the leading bankers in the city, his royalties were running $3000 a day, although, of course, they will not last long at any such rate, When I say riches have gone to those in straitened circumstances, I do not mean merely to those who are ignorant and illit- erate or in actual poverty. A bank examiner noticed several years ago that merchants who were on the ragged edge tried to sweeten their loans by throwing into the portfolio a few lots on Signal Hill. Now he notices that the same men are independ- ently wealthy as a result of these lots According to the estimate of a cautious geologist for one of the world’s largest oil companies, there are two high-school teach- ers, who had ranches at Santa Fé Springs, whose ultimate share in oil may run as high as $1,000,000 apiece. A few years ago a man went to Long Beach with only a few dollars. His prop- erty in the East was badly encumbered; he had — difficulty in borrowing money to pay his personal expenses, and frequently touched his friends for small sums. Just as the boom started he jumped into land on the smallest of shoe strings. As this was written, I read in the papers that he had re- fused several thousand dollars for a small fraction of his holdings. All observers agree that among land- owners who have enjoyed no great previous advantages the first move is to buy a large automobile. As one operator said, “If the only car owned before the boom was an old flivver, the farmers in Oklahoma buy a new flivver as soon as the lease is signed and one of the biggest makes as ‘soon as the first dividend check comes in.’ As far as I could discover in California there is no such intermediate stage as a new flivver. The head of the Long Beach agency of one of the largest, heaviest and most ex- pensive makes, which has a great name for being the swagger thing, told me he had eight or nine times been offered the assign- ment of the first dividend check from oil This means, of course, that the landowner attempted to buy the car before he received his first check, A bank president said that in many cases large cars were purchased be- fore the oil companies had time to make sure that the title was right, before the ink was dry on the lease. The agent for one of the most popular makes of expensive cars said that he had Continued on Page 99

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On Monday morning Arcota arrived THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Saturday morning—radiatce warmth Radiator warmth in less than a week NE GREAT THING about Arco a is the fact that it can be installed so quickly. Wn. S. Pfaff of New Orleans says frankly that he was “skeptical.” He did not want “the whole house upset.” “Much to my surprise,” he writes, “ARCOLA was all set up, connected by pipes with a rad- iator in each room, and running, in less than a week.” And he concludes: “I can truthfully say that the money I in- vested in Arcota has added more comfort to my home than any money invested in any other appliance in my house.” With stoves, or an old-fashioned heating plant, some rooms are hot and some are cold, depending on the wind. With Arcota, con- nected with American Radiators, all rooms are kept at an even temperature by the steady flow of steam or hot water through the pipes. Life is short. Don’t spend another winter in discomfort when you can have radiator warmth in less than a week. See your Heating Contractor for an estimate of ARCOLA’s cost, installed; and send today for the illustrated Arcota book which tells you everything else you want to know. AMERICAN RADIATOR COMPANY IpeAt Boilers and AMERICAN Radiators for every heating need E£ » SeTeay 6 104 West 42nd Street, Dept. 92 ERICAN DEAL 816 So. Michigan Ave., Dept. 92 2 a NEW YORK IATORS |BOILERS CHICAGO a

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST July 7, 1923 | J \Cooks as fast as gas” - STRAT Tae ©The position of leadership universally accorded the beautiful Rep Star Oil Stove, by both users and merchants, is but the natural appreciation of a great success. This is the modern-day oil stove. The unmistakable superiority of its work is due to the improved, scientific way the oil is used. In the patented Rep Star Burner there are no wicks or wick substitutes. It produces two rings of clean, intensely hot, blue gas fire — the ideal cooking and baking heat, as every good cook knows. And the results cannot be improved by aiy gas range. Saves one- quarter of your fuel, too. |] Are you entirely satisfied with your cooking? The 4 Rep Star merchant in your town is showing the new im proved Rep Star models. Prices are within the reach of all . THE DETROIT VAPOR STOVE COMPANY - DETROIT, MICHIGAN tt RED RW STAR._ “aa . ij 4 Detroit Vapor U ( ‘ OIL STOVE

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tT, cor cmemnnerentivey Sowemertane e99 Continued from Page 96) been offered hundreds of times all manner of oil stock, shares, units, leases, royalties, and the like, if only he would deliver a car; but that he was in the automobile and not the oil business, and insisted upon cash pay- ment. A clerk in an office is said to have bought two expensive cars and promised $10,000 toward the building of a new church before he received his first dividend check. Many landowners take immediately to European travel. The story is told of one stenographer who at once bought an ex- pensive car, which she stored in a gara » and a round-trip ticket to Europe. But s a to buy a round-trip ticket to New York, and upon returning from Europe found the well had petered out and she was left stranded in New York, But this is only a spat fi I called upon one landowner who was rec- ommended as having kept his head in the golden flood, and found his office consisted of one-half of a diminutive bicycle store. He had, however, left that morning for a two months’ European tour. The oil companies complain that landowners often beat it so quick for Europe after receiving their first check, and without leaving sufficient in- structions, that important and necessary negotiations with them cannot be carried on. I was told on excellent authority that the gentleman in the bicycle store had en- joyed for a few months an income of more than $20,000 a month, but that it was only $10,000 in March and April. Of course, there is nothing necessarily reprehensible in travel, expensive cars and church building. Indeed, they may be very desirable if one can afford them. The ab- surd and pathetic cases are those of land- owners who become obsessed with the idea that they are great oil operators, financiers and business men, just because someone else happens to find oil under their land and pays them several hundred or thousand dol- lars a day for temporary flush production. Prospective Millionaires Untold harm is done by the common practice of describing as millionaires the oil lessors who happen to have incomes of sev- eral hundred or thousand dollars a day. It is the experience of all oil fields that flush production is soon over. No man is a mil- lionaire until he has a million safely in- vested. The oil lessors at once spend a good part of their income, reinvest part of it badly, often go into debt, and face a certain diminution in the income itself. Exceed- ingly few are millionaires in anything but prospect, and the fact is that those who re- ceive more than a few hundred thousand dollars in the long run in any oil field are relatively few. “T don’t see why any man should get so excited over one or two hundred thousand dollars,” said a bank president in Long Beach. ‘Anyone ought to be able to in- vest that amount in conservative securities without kicking up any dust.” “‘Some of the landowners have gone so batty with their new money that they ought to be in an asylum,” was the consensus of opinion as expressed to me by several bank presidents in Long Beach, although one or two did not agree with the general view. ‘“‘In one case a man who never had any- thing to speak of and is now in receipt of a large income is deeper in debt than he was before he struck oil. Instead of paying up his debts to this bank he attempted to con- tract new ones. We believe here that when by the grace of Divine Providence a man strikes it rich he should first of all pay his old debts. “These men who are plugging ail they make into new oil ventures or new com- panies of their own will disappear like grass- hoppers. They think they are ‘inanciers, when they are merely lucky. They get a little taste of wealth and go dippy. Their heads are so swelled they can’t walk under the trolley wires, but they will be left high and dry when the boom is over. “Those who have had extensive previous business experience usually take it much more calmly. “There are the sane, however, as well as the insane. One young man who didn’t have a cent five years ago, and is still under thirty, worked very hard at his business, suddenly to find himself worth several hun- dred thousand from oil. He has bought an insurance policy which will pay him a large income after he is forty, and is so careful about keeping his simple tastes that he is reluctant even to buy one big car.” I talked with a landowner in Long Beach whose income from, oil is $1000 a day, but who has had a long career in business and has made large sums in real estate, banking and other fields. J asked him if he took any credit to himself because oil was found on his property. “T am no more entitled to this oil,’”’ he replied, “than is Barefoot Charlie who walks the streets. Anyone who owned prop- erty in this community was bound to make money, because we have had both a real- estate and an oil boom. It was merely luck that we owned the land. I am determined to keep the tastes of my family simple and take an active part in welfare work. How absurd for a person to acquire expensive personal or business tastes merely from the flush production of one oil well!” A successful oil operator who has financed his drilling in an ultra-popular fashion, and has advertised his movements in slangy phrases through the medium of local news- papers, eeu replied in one of his char- acteristic advertisements to the question of whether he had acquired a swelled head. Some of the landowners would do well to read his reply with care: “T am not the kind of a hairpin that a little success can make nigger rich. Even with two million dollars a fellow can wear pow A one collar, -_ necktie and occupy one n when he d “Success undoubtedly turns the heads of many landowners,”’ said an oil-company executive who has dealt with hundreds of them. “For one thing, they often start right in to speculate in more land. Then, too, each one wants a larger well than his neighbor has. If the man next door gets a 5000-barrel well and he gets only 4000 bar- rels he is sore at the company. indeed, the faster the stream comes into his pocket- book the more irascible he gets, and the harder to deal with. ‘A man’s true character comes out when he strikes it rich from oil. You must re- member that he is in a very different posi- tion from a banker or active business man, for no matter how rich the latter may be he has to suppress his more disagreeable traits in order to keep his business. He has to be agreeable, But a landowner is under no ob- ligations to anybody. He doesn’t have to work for his money like the merchant or banker. He can be just as disagreeable as he likes, His income is clear, there are no ex- penses, no overhead to keep down. “Worst of all, he always says ‘I knew there was oil there.’ But the average man usually comes around pretty well in time, and is a pretty good fellow. One lessor im- mediately after receiving the first check gave the Salvation Army $5000 to feed every hungry man in Los Angeles.” It might be suggested also in extenuation, or at least in explanation, of the landowner, that one reason for his apparently wild rush to take on new business ventures as soon as he strikes oil is to incur debts with an in- terest charge that can be offset against his enormous income taxes. In a number of cases where I made inquiries concerning the whereabouts and present occupations of va- rious enriched landowners I was told by those who knew their movements that study of income-tax regulations was con- suming much of their time. Good Luck and Good Sense Although the Signal Hill field of Long Beach boasts the greatest number of land- owners, the case of those at Santa Fé Springs is more important, because the holdings are larger. One of the most inter- esting cases is that of Lem Brunson. Mr. Brunson does not hold a large acreage, but he has had an exceedingly heavy flush pro-. duction from his five or'six wells, and next to Bell his name has been mentioned as often as any. Brunson is an active, experienced, pop- ular man in the fifties. For many years he traveled for a clothing concern over a large Western territory, and like so many travel- ing men had a great plenty of living in a trunk. Some years ago he bought a run- down farm at Santa Fé Springs and grad- ually improved it until it became rather a show place in the neighborhood. But though successful in his line, having a good home and many friends, he was in no sense rich or well to do. Mr. Brunson expressed to the writer no great desire to live upon coupons or spend the rest of his life in travel, which he rightly, in the opinion of the writer at least, de- scribed as more or less of a fool’s paradise, “this business of being identified with no THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ” pose and no persons.” Instead he plans to yuild himself a beautiful home and busy himself with factory projects along the lines in which he is experienced. He told how he had called on bankers in New York to dis- cuss a line of credit for a shirt factory to be erected in Los Angeles, and of their amaze- ment that a man of his income from oil ehould bother to start a shirt factory. But it surely takes no great wisdom to realize that the devotion of sudden large wealth to lines with which one is familiar is a sen- sible course to pursue, “So many important things have hap- pened to me in so few months that I am not sure of my competence to handle them,” said this man, whose obvious alertness be- lied these doubts. “So much has been crowded into such a short time. But when I found four young men whom I could trust, and was myself in a position to set them up in a wusiness which I know about, I felt that perhaps I was doing something worth while. “But I do not know whether I am equal to the responsibility of this wealth. Per- haps I shall be pardoned under such‘circum- stances if I say that I wish life were lon er. I didn’t believe in luck formerly, but I’m not so sure about it now.” But by far the most important landowner in the new Southern California oil fields is Alphonzo E. Bell, the largest landowner at Santa Fé Springs, and probably destined to be in the long run the largest landowning beneficiary from the recent discoveries. Mr. Bell's first well came in early in the morn- ing of October 25, 1921, and according to the statements of competent oil men he has at no time since received less than $20,000 a month, with his royalties running about $100,000 a month late in April. Mr. Bell's Poyalties This is not so much more than many other landowners have been getting, but Bell’s position is very different. Others have been getting the returns from hasty, en- forced flush production on a few town lots or an acre or two. Bell’s holdings of at least 150 acres in the center of one of the world’s richest oil fields are so large that the company which is drilling there does not need to hurry, relatively speaking, and car hold back for higher prices without dan- ger of the oil being drained away as rapidly as from a smaller area. Such income as he has had represents drilling on only a small part of his land, most of it being held in reserve. A high executive of an experienced oil company stated that royalties should be accruing to Bell for considerably more than a generation to come. It has been com- petently estimated that at low prices Bell's share » | the recoverable value will be about yy ‘He found it $6,000,000, while if a shortage with conse- | quent high prices should develep it might be nearer $12,000,000 or $15,000,000. Many strange yarns have been told about Bell, for he not only holds the largest acre- age in the principal field but his wells were practically the first to come in. It was said at one time that he had entered the field barefoot, and on the morning when his first | well came in he rushed to the bank before it opened to pay off a mortgage just about to be foreclosed. Mr. Bell was not a rich man, but he was far from being a poor man, and had always been accustomed to the finer things of life. He had bought a great deal of land, and like other extensive landowners may at times have found it a bit of a burden. But on the other hand he leased it on an extensive scale, and at times, no doubt profitably, to Japanese and other tenant farmers. Bell is a man in the middle forties, a col- lege graduate, with experience in pubtic service, with a wide acquaintance in his state, for many years one of its foremust tennis players, and a most delightful gentle- man to meet. Unlike most landowners,. Bell had not only long suspected the presence of oil on his property but had pestered the big oil companies for years to drill there. Once when drilling for water he ran into gas, and from that time on he tried to get the big companies to develop the tract. He is not one of those who feel obliged after the event to say they always knew there was oil. Indeed, the big companies all testify that he was a sticker, having faith in his land when they were perhaps wavering. Because of the enormous gas pressure, the bringing in of some of the many Bell wells has been attended with great trouble Continued on Page 101 in Valparaiso Then he headed north and found it up near the “jumping-off place” No matter what part of the world you may find yourself in, few things make you feel more at home than to walk into a store and discover your favorite smoking tobacco for sale. You get a great thrill from seeing your home newspaper in a strange land and an even greater thrill on meeting someone from the old home town. But tobacco cer- tainly comes next in the order of impor- tance in away-from-home thrills, With your favorite tobacco in your favorite pipe, life is werth living in almest any corner of the globe. This thought was inspired by the follow- ing interesting letter from Mr. W. E. Bromiey, an Edgeworth smoker from Fort Wayne, Ind.: Larus & Brother Co, Richmond, Va. Gentlemen: In some of your advertisements from time to time I have noticed letters from different users of Edgeworth Smoking Tobacco and | wondered if anyone ever had a more varied experience than I have had When in Valparaiso, South America, | could get it; and when | was as = north as a man could well go without going t jumping-off place,” I could get Edgew« wth he ady-Rubbed I have an old briar that I have had for ten years and it never had a crumb of any but Edgeworth in it lf that isn't going some, “you teil me Yours truly, (Signed) W. E. Bromiey If Mr. Bromley makes frequent skips from continent to continent, his record of keeping all tobacco but Edgeworth out of his briar is indeed noteworthy. fas times Although Edgeworth does reach the earth, there when the supply runs low in Zanzibar and corners of the must be other remote districts. But as a rule Edge- worth smokers, wher- ever they are, generally manage to find a way to get Edgeworth, for they don't feel as if they are really smoking unless the tobacco comes from a little blue If you are an Edgeworth smoker but would like an Opport tunity to find out if you want to be send your name and address to Larus & Brother Com- 1 South 21st Street, Richmond, Va You will receive almost immediately free samples of both Edgeworth Plug Slice and Ready-Rubbed. Then you can judge for yourself what you think about this tobacco that so many smokers claim gives complete pipe-satisfaction, can not one, pany, If you will include the name and address of your regular tobacco dealer with your request for the free sample will be appreciated. To Retail Tobacco Merchants If your jobber cannot supply you with Edgeworth, Larus & Brother Company will gladly send you prepaid by parcel post a one- or two- dozen carton of any size of Edgeworth Plug Slice or Ready-Rubbed for the same price you would pay the , your courtesy jobbe r

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST July 7, 1925 The Passing of Wash Day A few years ago wash day was thought of in terms of soap. odors, stuffy kitchens, warmed-over meals, weari- ness and ill temper. Today, thanks to America’s 10,;00 Power Laundries, women need no longer sacrifice health and youth in arduous drudgery over steaming tubs. The tendency is, more and more, to “send it, out”— and the Laundry has suddenly become a national institution of the greatest magnitude, with an annual volume of business of 300,000,000. alata Oe ie The same tendency is reflected in the amazing growth Are Built Complete With of the Cleaning and Dyeing industry, which, with its Every Line of Business 2,500 plants, does an annual business of *60,000,000. Mn high cost of making two trips for every job is nsible for a general urge among Laundry owners Cleaners and Dyers to concentrate on Graham Brothers Truck. In this truck they see the opportunity to reduce these costs and at the same time improve their service. And the truck's record in 264 different lines of business proves that their growing confidence is fully justified. 1 Ton Chassis, $1265; 1% Ton, $1325; f. o. b. Detroit or Evansville, Ind GRAHAM BROTHERS Detroit — Evansville (GRAHAM BROTHERS TRUCKS SOLD pDOoDG BROTHERS DEALERS EVERYWHERE

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; f ' — +] (Continued from Page 99) and excitement. His account of the day when his first well came in is very graphic indeed. Workmen usually came to his ranch house at six in the morning for drink- ing water. Finally one morning they awoke him by calling out, ‘“‘ Mr. Bell, you had better come quick; the water is flowing and oil will fol- low soon,” His account of how he was besieged all day long by other landowners for advice, and by oil scouts to help them get in touch with the other owners, is equally vivid. If one Spanish farmer whom he knew had waited until afternoon before signing up he could have got a bonus of $1500 an acre instead of $1000. After a time Mr. Bell and his family were obliged to move out of their ranch. A blow-out had burned telegraph poles at a distance of 300 feet, and the ean seemed threatened. At any time a geyser might break loose in the yard. Mr. Bell expressed to the writer a feeling of great responsibility for the use of such wealth as may come to him from oil. “T feel,” he said, “‘that oil belongs to no one individual.” THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Of course, the money made by land- owners thrills the speculative public, and is capitalized and commercialized in ever possible way by promoters who have saeak or units for sale. As one promoter inter- preted the facts recently in a public adver- tisement: I don’t see him around the Springs any more. He owned some land there. A derrick went up on the back of his lot—a well started drilling — it came in the other day for 8000 barrels—8000 | barrels of oil in Santa Fé Springs means | $11,600 per day, or $348,000 per month. I | don’t know exactly how much of that Mr. Brun- | son ~ but I know that he gets plenty. And it all goes to show what Santa Fé acreage can do—how much money it can earn—both for landowners and investors. The last sentence in this announcement is what logicians call a non sequitur; it does not follow. Investors in oil-promotion stock or units may not make much of anything, even though landowners profit. ever- theless, uncounted thousands of investors have bought some form of security based upon the Southern California oil boom from hundreds of promoters, all on a scale unpar- alleled perhaps in promotion history. More- over, the promoters have got hold of much ff A ” CHARACTERS By EDGAR A. GUEST é | fj 04 etn ee ee ke ee ete 28 eter ore: nee rh) One trouble which he had at the start was valuable land, and have in a number of i : 4 to prevent promoters from using his name cases offered units based upon valuable If/ ] sometimes think that homes assume \ in christening their companies and wells. property. How it has been done and what / The characters of those who dwell A vi; vedi Me But in the main he has been successful in keeping them from cheapening his name. is likely to follow will be told in a subse- quent article. all-Towmn Stuff | == Within each wide and spacious room, And all their habits plainly tell, And thinking this, I pray that I May leave ‘in here no tiny trace Of sin and ugliness whereby I shall betray my dwelling place. Edgar A. Quem Series will appear in an early issue of The Saturday Evening Post. By ROBERT QUILLEN Highbrows Written Especially for Santa Claus ,, XY John Lucas&Co.,Inc. AA NHE beginning of knowledge is the dis- covery that there is no Santa Claus, and invariably the discovery brings bitterness in its wake. As the years pass and knowl- edge is multiplied, other fairy tales as dear are discredited in their turn and each newly acquired bit of knowledge takes toll of faith. The princess, it transpires, has no braids of gold hanging beribboned down her back, but a scant thatch of unconvincing yellow scarce generous enough to hold in place her store-bought hair. The prince is not a fascinating Adonis whose lion’s heart can upon occasion become as tender as a maid’s, but a commonplace youngster with a loose upper lip who smokes too many cigarettes and pouts when his sweet will is thwarted by an unelastic code fixed by precedent. The wicked flourish and live on the fat of the land, and the good die in their poverty and are buried in unremembered graves. The strong take, and the weak envy. There is no pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. The miller’s daughter never will marry the earl. The little pea is not under any shell at all, but safely hidden in the performer's hand. That glow of youth comes in a little tin box. Few officeholders are great men, and the man with the nice smile and the lingering handclasp, who says he will pay you back the next time he sees you, never will see you again. Assailed and buffeted by so many dis- illusionments, youth loses for a time the capacity to believe in anything at all, and develops a veneer of cynicism to protect itself + ed an unsympathetic world. This veneer is unlovely and a little wearisome to older persons, who long since have worn theirs away, but it need occasion no anxiety. This period of doubting is the testing time of youth’s mental and moral fiber. If the fiber is too weak to stand the strain imposed by the acquisition of honest knowl- edge, civilization is burdened with another unfortunate who must be kept under sur- veillance and in due season properly jailed. The man who makes off between two days with the company’s s surplus is one whose shattered faith in some Santa Claus or in ponies picked to win left him without suffi- cient stamina either to deny himself or to earn the play pretties he so eagerly covets. Normal youth, possessed of backbone and a level head, sheds cynicism in due season as once it shed illusions; and normal maturity, though a little hard-boiled by reason of much experience in hot water, holds fast to that which is good and retains its faith in the innate decency of the other fellow even while insisting that he furnish adequate security and affix his signature in the lower right-hand corner where the dotted line is. N EACH generation there are a number of talented men who set up shop as critics of the human race. In our times it has been customary to call these men high- brows, and, more recently, young intel- lectuals. By whatsoever name they may be called they find little favor with the multi- tude, for their pet aversion is mankind and | their pet theory is that majorities invari- ably are stupid while minorities have a | monopoly of the world’s visible supply of | brains. But the truth is that minorities, for all their plausible arguments and persistent | shoutings, have espoused a cause that is | possessed of some fatal defect offensive to | the common sense of mankind, or, having | espoused a cause that is just and reason- able, quickly become majorities and thus sacrifice the point of their boast. Who brought the world thus far along the way of progress? Minorities? Nay; they stood at a little distance and mocked and said it couldn’t be done—or, if it should be done, such a running amuck would fol- low as the world never had seen. And whi!» they mocked they cast about for some argu- ment wherewith to stiffen their backbones and assured one another that the mob had lost its reason and that but a few retained | the ability to see clearly. Majorities make the mare go. The be- | ginning of a majority is a reasonable griev- | ance or a reasonable aspiration. When one | of these appears, a candidate for the Hall | of Fame comes up out of the crowd and | becomes a leader. When the majority has flocked to him, an abomination is removed from the earth or civilization is set a little | farther on its way. The progress of which mankind boasts has been wished upon it by majorities, and every suggested forward step or change has cooled its heels in the outer office where minorities sit until it found favor in the eyes of some majority and was permitted to enter and place its feet on the } me If this is true, as obviously it is, majori- ties are entitled to considerably more re- spect than is given them; and their opinions must be adjudged sane and beneficial. If majorities have led the way thus far, is it reasonable to suppose that present mi- norities, having found favor in the sight of heaven, are enabled to understand matters that are beyond the mental reach of the av- erage man? It is not—not while the average man retains his present working capital of common sense. There are few moot ques- tions that can retain their frightful mien in the presence of common sense, and the common sense of the common people is now and ever will be the guide and the hope of the world in time of stress. CHARACTER: Ofttimes we are temporarily attracted by superficial external considerations, which do not and cannot hold friendship. Un- less the soul of the man or woman to whom we are attracted is illuminated by true character, we shall eventually tire of that person. The ones whom we love and trust are those who from day to day, thru pleasure and pain, prosperity and adver- sity, remain true and steadfast, It is the character of men and of institutions which we learn to know, to respect and to trust. As manufacturers of materials designed to beau- tify and preserve, Lucas has long realized that character, in business, is the first and most impor- tant consideration. The testing fires of long time have not found Lucas wanting. Write for The Book of Happiness A valuable book by Prof. A. J. Snow, Ph. D., of Northwestern University, Evanston — Chicago, giving authoritative information on the selection of colors and color combinations, and for the first time explaining color reactions on human happi- ness, In this book, Dr. Snow, a recognized authority in psychology, tells what colors are conducive to comfort, restfulness, harmony, etc. Write Depart- ment 17 for your copy today. It's FREE. JohnLucas&Co..Inc. Paint and Varnish Makers Since 1849 PHILADELPHIA NEW VORK FITTSBUBRGH CHICAGO BOSTON OAKLAND ASHEVILLE FRESNO LOS ANGELES ATLANTA HOUSTON MEMPHIS DENVER JACKSONVULLE BAVANNAH Purposely Made for Every Purpose fe Copyright, 1923, by John Laces & Co., Inc,

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' —_—— Live on the Porch Convert your porch into a cozy, cool retreat by day and an airy sleeping pore h at night—secure from inquisitive eyes, In VUDOR Porch Shades only can you obtain the exclusive, patented, woven-in ventilating feature. VUDOR Porch Shades are made from beauti fully stained wood slats in weather proof, permanent colors, VUDOR Pr hey are ws moderate in price shade 6 feet 50 wide with a drop of 7 rs 6 inches now costae only north of Alabama and east of Colorado. Sizes o fit any porch priced proportionately Send for iilustrations in colors and the name of your local dealer Hough Shade Corporation 2 ile Street, Janesville, Wis. Se af name of your local dealer and also illustrations im Colores to Hough Shade Corporation 250 Mills Street, Janesville, Wis. Self-Hanging . Ventilating .PORCH SHADES | THE SATURDAY “T’ll tell a man you better squat, and squat low too! I’ll be in action, as you c all it, by the time I count five! W hen I get to five, I shoot! One—two—three —— “Talk to her! Talk to her!” implored the June was more than willing. “Please! Please, Mrs. Brown, please don’t shoot! I’m the new teacher. I “Well, why didn’t that fool man say so?”’ a somewhat mollified voice returned. The latch lifted and their hostess, in a severe muslin nightgown, began investigating her dooryard with a flashlight; whereupon the station agent, without further formal- ity, took his departure, his long strides swishing through the wet sagebrush. Mrs. Brown, barefooted and calm, advanced toward the pile of bundles he had deserted with a welcoming “‘Go on in; there’s a match by the lamp.” Not until every bundle was inside, the door latched and her feet carefully dried did she take time to look at her guest. Then she sat down in a chair across the narrow room from June and looked at her. One of her many prides was to do one thing at a time—and do it well, Now that she gave herself over to it, her scrutiny of June was so painstakingly thorough that June felt both mentally and physically unclothed by it; but she had firmly determined while in Rome to be a Roman, so she conquered her embarrassment and gravely stared back. Mrs. Brown's outstanding quality was cleanliness—unadorned, uncompromising cleanliness. She looked like a shining brown rock, scoured by centuries of swift- running waters. Her bright blue eyes seemed strangely out of place in her weathered face; it was as if two crevices of the hard brown rock had imprisoned tiny pools of heaven-blue water which still re- flected the skies of spring. Otherwise she was adamant. Her straight, unsmiling lips shut closely, with no fullness whatever, like a dish and its lid; and even under the voluminous nightgown she looked like a composite study of all the thin women in the world. Altogether nothing could have been farther from June's pegee of a com- | fortable, sympathetic landla “T’ll not speak first,” June declared men- tally; ‘not if we sit here till we turn into mummies,” “Humph!” Mrs. “humph!” This succinct ejaculation proved to be Brown finally said- | her conversational piéce de résistance. In time June learned to appreciate its inflec- tions and to answer to them, but just now she did not consider it a proper conversa- tional opening; so they continued to sit silently on their straight-backed chairs for what, to June, was a very uncomfortable space of time. he house was a typical but spotlessly clean homestead shanty; every crack care- fully covered with strips of redolent tar paper; a small cookstove in one corner; a cupboard in the third and a bed in the fourth; while a shining, bare board table reigned in the center of the room. Every- thing else, except two small rag rugs, hung on nails about the walls. “T’ll send for a cot and live in the school- house,’’ June had just decided, when Mrs. Brown emitted a second humph, closely followed by an encouraging, ‘Well, I’m afraid they’ ll make short work of you.” “Who?” asked June, unearthing a smile from her dejection. ‘And why?” “The Holcomb young ones. I don’t think the Wiley kids'll show up at all. But that Holcomb tribe’d rather chase off teach- ers than eat. No reason that I know of ‘cept onriness.”’ une had taken off her hat, and the sight | of its wilting poppies roused her sinking spirits, “Well, I came here to earn sixty-five dollars a month and I don’t much care how I do it. I'd just as soon fight for it as to teach school for it. But nothing will make | me give it up—except death,” Aslight tremor disturbed the polished sur- face of Mrs. Brown's shiny tanned cheeks. “If that’s the case you better write out the address of your favorite undertaker. The last teacher went away with her arm in asling. The Holcomb boy threw his jack- knife at her and most cut her hand off; said he was throwing at a fly on the wall— humph!” June hastily strengthened her waning | smile. EVENING POST PLAYING FAIR (Continued from Page 7) “Well, if I don’t survive just bury me under the schoolhouse. I haven’t any money to spend on undertakers. If I live long enough to earn a few days’ salary I'd like you to send it to Miss Smithers, in Sage City, for this hat. Here I’ve wanted a hat with poppies on it all of my life, and now it’s ruined before it’s even paid for.” “Humph!” said Mrs. Brown, and began briskly building a wood fire in the four- legged stove. ‘“‘I guess a few raindrops won’t ruin it. What’s your name, child?” “‘Cameron—June Cameron.” “Sounds like the name of some kind of perce, June Cameron—and pink pop- -and fawn’s eyes—and little bab me all turned loose in this G forsaken place. Did the superintendent that sent you here ever see you?” “Why, certainly! She’s known me ever since I was a little girl. This is the only summer school in the county that wasn’t taken when I got back from Chicago, so I was glad to get it. I have to earn money to go on with—m painting. , Painting? Well, doesn’t take money to paint, does it? “Surely! You have to study color and perspective and technic.” “Humph! Once in a while we have an artist strayin’ round here from one of the dude ranches. Queer birds. You look more like you'd be more interested in the technic of getting a husband. “Well, I'm not!” June set her wet shoes foe: go ng 9 on the newspaper Mrs. Brown given her. “On the contrary it’s taken me years to Jearn the technic of not getting a husband.” She blushed for the sound of this, but she couldn’t resist saying it; she must some- how convince herself that she was glad John was no longer determined to marry her— glad—glad—glad! Mrs. Brown glanced at her shrewdly. “Oh, husbands ain't so bad. I got one good one out of three. Trouble was, I tried two of ‘em before I had sense enough to take the one I'd really wanted all along; and then I only got him in time to fold his hands and put flowers on his grave. . Good Lord! Listen at me, chatterin’ like a chipmunk!” June lost herself in hysterical laughter; and Mrs. Brown, regarding her with appre- a pn took a flask from the cupboard. +7 ~~ about at the end of your rope, girl. Here, take this and get to bed.” he liquor scalded June’s throat and took quick toll of her tired mind. “Tt’s fun to sleep in a strav. stack, isn’t it?” she murmured after Mrs. Brown had hurried her to bed, where she lay beside her hostess on the rustling straw tick, its fresh straw odor brought out pungently by the dampness. ‘‘ You know, grammy hasn't a sense of humor, an’ John hasn't, either; but you have, Mrs. Brownie, haven’t you?” “Oh, sure,” Mrs. Brown agreed, “I’ve got a sense of humor, and a darn good gun. ow go to sleep, child, go to sleep. “But, oh, if the pupils won't come, what will I do? June worried herself into restless sleep, and in her dreaming went back to her child- hood and her mother. She wakened sharply at the sound of her own voice; she had spoken a word plead- ingly—a call for comfort; had called like a child, “‘M-other.”” She found herself in alert and embarrassed consciousness, with her left arm thrown across Mrs. Brown’s thin body. June lay motionless, pretending not to have wakened. After an instant Mrs. Brown raised yy and turned cau- tiously over, under the soft, circling arm, and June felt her leaning close to look at her. She pulled the covers about June’s shoulders and settled cautiously back, carefully holding the arm that encircled her in her hard, firm fingers. “*M-other!"" June heard her whisper. “G-ood Lord!"" But something in the whispered words gave June a feeling of confidence and protection, and she dropped quickly into untroubled, dreamless sleep; but the brown-weathered woman of the hills lay awake for a long time that she might keep the pleasure of that soft, warm young arm. mr UNP’S diary for the following day bore the entry: Monday. Rain. Gray sky; gray hills; gray me. July 7,1925 Briny beginning. Mrs. Brown goes recruiting for scholars. What mud! What a schoolhouse! No pupils; but a peaceful parent. Make a sketch of parent; pretty good, I think. Hat recovering nicely. Order school supplies from Sage City. Letter to John—didn’t send it. Clear sky at sunset. Tired! It was breakfast that gave the day its briny beginning, for it emerged saltily but not untastefully from a series of stone crocks of brine—butter out of the brine, eggs out of the brine, and salt pork like- wise. But it was good. The tablecloth and napkins, fashioned out of white flour sacks, were beautifully clean, and Mrs. Brown's vicarious determination to procure pupils was an elixir that scorned the melancholy morning. “Now, I'll go with you as far as Bisby’s fence; you can see the schoolhouse from there. Then I'll short-cut over to Hol- comb’s and tell ’em school’s in session and the teacher gettin’ money for nothing. That'll bring "em out if anything will. But the Wileys are so shiftless they don’t care who gets money or who don’t. ‘Tain’t likely anything short of the sheriff can move them, so I won’t bother going there today—long as it’s so rainy. Now, be sure your rubbers are tied on mighty tight. This mud can pull the hoofs off a horse.”’ The two-mile walk to the schoolhouse proved this to be no exaggeration. Waiking ceased to be a mechanical act, for each step demanded discrimination and skill. The two miles seemed twenty, and the fine, driving rain stung her eyes and face. The wheel-marked road twisted among the hills, passing not a single tree, but skirting one or two small, poorly fenced fields of struggling wheat and an occasional patch of alfalfa. Poverty and pioneering are boon compan- ions in the dry hills. Finally the schoolhouse filtered through the mist into her vision, a tipsy, tottering little building set insecurely on a founda- tion of four flat corner rocks. Of the three windows, three were broken; and through one of them June was obliged to make entry, since the door was fastened on the inside with the stove poker. The interior offered very little toward educational enthu- siasm. There was a tall, rusty stove flanked by an equally rusty stove bucket in the center of the room; a battered strip of blackboard stretched across the north wall; four whittled desks held a few torn school- books, and on the teacher’s high, old- fashioned desk a washbasin, which looked as if it had been used as a primitive weapon, companioned a one-legged alarm clock. The only modern thing in the room was a flourishing hornet’s nest in one corner, a few of whose inmates crawled dejectedly about. It took June ten minutes to inventory the books and to pile them into their re- spective lots of two primers, one first reader, three second readers, half uf an eighth-grade reader, half a Bible—last half. There were also the carefully preserved covers of an enormous geography. A rem- nant of a child’s coat hung on a hook be- hind the door, and with this she dusted. Then—what to do? It was now. nine o'clock, At least she was earning her sal- ary. She wound the clock and it took up its task in cheerful, jerky spasms, like an old man’s laughter. Then—what to do? She might eat part of her lunch, which that morning, watching Mrs. Brown prepare it, she had wondered if she could ever possibly get hungry enough to touch. But now the jelly sandwiches and hard-boiled egg be- came strangely attractive. She took them out of her raincoat pocket and spread the feast on the desk; and nibbling restrain- edly, she began a letter to John: Dearest Stranger; Even though you have given me up forever, you haven't lost all in- terest in me, have you, dear old John? And I’m writing you this letter merely to give you the —— of knowing how thoroughly miserable am. In the first place, it will gratify you to know that I’m cold and hungry though 1’ ve a dainty salt-pork sandwich right here, waiting to be eaten. Then, in the second plac e, I haven't any pupils; but my landlady has gone for some with her revolver in her apron pocket. I began boarding with her at two o'clock this morning and I'm already deeply attached to her. You'd like her too. She thinks all girls should marry. (Continued on Page 105)

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= “= lias, THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Just what a light dessert needs A gelatine with whipped cream seems to need a tempting sweet to make the dessert a little more substantial. Sunshine Fig Bars—short, crisp cakes, with their filling of imported figs—are just rich enough to complete the dessert. Women who have tried this delicious combi- nation say that it is not the jelly or the fig bars that make the dessert, but each is equally important. Try Sunshine Fig Bars with any light dessert. It will be something different—something dainty and enticing. For luncheons, teas, and impromptu retresh- ments Sunshine Fig Bars are delightful. Look for special offer at your grocery To make Sunshine Fig Bars better known to every most Sunshine grocers are making special displays 1 holding attractive special sales during this mont! loose -Wites Biscuit (omMPany Bakers of Sunshine Biscuits Branches in Over 100 Cities 3 v Sunshine A 32-page “Magic Color Painting Book” com plete with Magic Water Colors and paintiny brush has been prepared for children. Interesting ducational, highly colored, and attractive. Get this 25c¢ book by sending 10c in coin with the ( Sunday Dinners pany July 8 St hi iscults E verymeal ~ Everyday Dinner, July 15 Dinner, July 22 leed Be k 1 Potato French Dressing Radishes, Cucumbers, Celery) with Sunshine Krispy Cracker colate Pudding - nshine Vanilla Wafers lced Tea or Coffee Be sure to use the Coupon

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST July 7, 1923 re your teeth as clean as your hands ? OU washyour hands often —perhaps a dozen times a day. You can’t keep them clean any other way. How often do you brush your teeth? According to high dental authority, your teeth should be brushed well for five minutes, at least four times a day. Before breakfast — after breakfast —after lunch —and before going to bed. Always make sure that you reach all sides of the rear- most molars. Notice these important things: Brush often and well; reach all sides of the rear- most molars. The way to brush teeth is to clean each tooth zone sepa- rately. Brush down over the gums and upper teeth. After you have thoroughly cleaned all of the upper teeth on all sides, reverse the brush and clean the lower teeth the same way. Brush all sides of the lower teeth away from the gums. This is the correct way of cleaning teeth. It is and has been for more than forty- three years the Pro-phy-lac- tic way. The Pro-phy-lac-tic Tooth Brush was created to clean teeth this correct way. The large end tuft is like a separate brush for cleaning the backs of the front teeth. This tuft, without effort, reaches and cleans the backs of the back teeth. The curved shape of the Pro-phy-lac-tic fits the curve of your teeth. In this shape, the wide-set, serrated bristles reach and clean crevices between the teeth that ordinary brushes merely bridge over. Use your Pro-phy-lac-tic Tooth Brush the way it should be used, and use it often. Merely washing isnot enough. You must brush well. The Pro-phy-lac-tic Tooth Brush brushes well with the least effort. Look for the name phyfactic on the yellow box and handle of the next tooth brush you buy. Remember, a clean tooth never decays. Sold by all dealers in the United States, Canada, and all over the world in the sanitary yellow box. Three sizes—adults’, youths’, and children’s; made in three different textures of bristles—hard, medium, and soft. FLORENCE MANUFACTURING CO., FLORENCE, MASSACHUSETTS, U. S. A. © 1923, Florence Mig. Co. RESERVE: \ AVDTAGR“ WITH ONT OF THESE (OENTIFYING Hid SYMBOAS REG WN US PAT OFF Was WOU Neen ret, ey : What happens when you brush your teeth Brush your upper teeth downward. Brush your lower teeth upward. The Pro-phy-lac-tic Tooth Brush iscurved to fit the jaw, like this: Instead of touching the teeth at a few points only, like this: On nn With the ordinary tooth brush, you cannot brush the backs of the teeth the same way that you clean the front, because the brush goes slantwise into your mouth, like this: en Non-tufted types of brushes cannot clean the backs of the back teeth, because the bristles cannot reach them. The bristles over-reach, like this: The large end tuft of the Pro-phy-lac-tic Tooth Brush does reach and clean the backs of the back teeth, like this: The Pro-phy-lac-tic handle is curved the proper way to reach the back teeth, like this:

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ee, * —, (Continued from Page 102) I’m supposed to have five pupils, but no one knows school has begun; and it seems the parents are opposed to teachers as a means of education. They are also prejudiced because they were not put on the school board—since they f._+aish the scholars. By the way, it’s raining. There really should be windowpanes in this schoolhouse. I can’t imagine why the pupils objected so to them. There, I’ve just capture od two hornets under the washbasin. There's a whole nest of them here, and they're beginning to investigate me. They look damp and dejected, but I don’t trust thom. Last night I thought Mrs. Brown's residence was a trifle bleak and unadorned, but having sat here for half an hour I look forward with longing to looking through windowpanes and smelling the straw mattress. Her whole house is about the size of the counter where you sell nails, and if you were a friend of mine, instead of a stranger, I’d ask you to send me one of those nice camping cots. But of course —— Well, I wish there was something to sketch. I might do the hornet’s nest. It would make a nice picture for a guest room. I wonder if there are any inspiring spots around here. All you can see this morning is rain, and all you can smell is wet sagebrush. It’s like being in the center of a big gray moth ball. Oh, here come Mrs. Brown and a petulant parent. How drenched they look! I'll make you a picture of them—to show you if we ever become ac juainted again. Renouncediy but not resignedly, JUNE, P.S. I must confess that it was quite terrible not to see you at the station. I’m afraid these stringent methods of yours may be effective. Though the subject for sketching was not a cheerful one, it brought a vivid interest to June’s face which lightened it more than laughter. Emerging from the gray distance came a tall man in a long coat and lopping hat, followed by Mrs. Brown. He pro- gressed after the manner of a measuring worm, his body seeming never entirely to move. June worked hastily, blocking in the sug- gestion of misted hills, catching the look of him with skillful lines, and catching the desolateness of it all with something far subtler than mere skill. It had become a recognizable likeness by the time her vis- itors reached the schoolhouse. June jerked open the reluctant door and greeted them with a buoyant ‘‘Good morning!” The man’s expression was in itself a triumph for her. His little eyes blinked swiftly at seeing this clender, laughing-eyed girl in her simple gray crépe dress, just as they might have blinked if, hunting sage hens with his rifle ready, he had come upon a serene brown wood thrush, singing. That he did not return her greeting was further flattery; he was lost in looking at her. He stamped and shook himself, and sat one- sidedly down on the top of the first desk, while Mrs. Brown busied herself unearth- ing her feet from the alkali mud with the stove poker, explaining casually that Mr. Holcomb “just thought he’d come with me and talk things over.’ “How nice of you! I do appreciate it.” June turned upon him the sunniest of inno- cent smiles. ‘I’m so very grateful to have the parents’ help and advice. How old are your children, Mr. Holcomb?” ‘Aw, they’re about twelve, I guess.” His voice came unsurely. He had pre- pared for no such opening as this; no teacher had ever before been grateful for his coming; no teacher, in fact no one at all had ever smiled upon him in this com- radely fashion; and certainly no one had ever wanted his advice—which he had always known to be of great value. Then the looks of her! After all, man can be only man. But since he had plowed through two miles of mud for the est of indulging his love for trouble, he made a worthy effort to sustain the antagonism he had started with. “But I ain’t here to talk nothin’ over with you, young woman. I come to tell you a few things! If you an’ this school board think you can run this here deestrict you can furnish the young ones, savvy? This thing o’ puttin’ a passel o’ rich ranchers on the board—mebbe they wouldn’t be so rich if they raised kids for their country, ’stead o’ cattle—don’t go with me no longer, savvy? My Jim’s come to this here school every term, off an’ on, fer six years, an’ he’s still in the second reader, an’ he can’t read that. Fer as Ellen’s concerned, she’s as smart as anybody, but the teachers never give her a fair show because she ain’t dressed up fit to kill like the Wiley brats. Now, I don’t mind tellin’ you that I’ve give Jim leave to make it just as miserable for the teachers as she treats them, savvy? Ma an’ me considers that home’s the place to lick kids and school’s the place to learn ’em. When this here last teacher slapped Ellen’s hands fer drawin’ pictures in her book —— Nature demanded that he halt here for a hurried breath, and June plunged into the pause with an enthusiastic ‘Oh, does she like t to draw?” “Yes, shedoes; she’s all the time markin’ round on something. I’d a heap rather she took to ‘'rithmetic, but she’s like her ma. Folks round here think my wife ain’t quite right, but she’s got more sense in her head than the whole passel of ’em.” “Oh, I know I'll just adore Ellen! June's voice thrilled to its subject now with a sincerity beyond doubt. ‘You see, I’m more interested in drawing and painting than in anything else, and ——— “Just look at that!” interrupted Mrs. Brown, who, having discovered June's sketch, held it admiringly in front of the disarmed parent. June drew an apprehensive breath lest the unflattering sketch undo her diplo- macy, but with true male normality her visitor saw in his likeness only that thing in which he was most satisfied—himself. A slow-stretching smile broke the sullen lines of his big unshaven face into the guileless pleasure of a child. “Why, it’s me!” he exclaimed with pleased appreciation, and regarded it with a long and increasing admiration that made June’s conquest firm and final. Having capitulated to pacifism, parent proved an invaluable ally. He evacuated the hornets, measured the windowpanes and made the future golden with promises of ‘I'll see to it myself.”” After an hour of planning, the three of them set forth to- gether in the rain, a determined trium- virate for uplift and education in the dry hills. Mrs. Brown alone allowed skepti- cism to touch their enthusiasms. She was stoutly of the opinion that June should con- sult the school board before telegraphing to Sage City for the seventy-five-dollar bill of supplies which they had conscientiously decided was essential. But June had no misgivings. “Why, I’m even going to charge these telegrams to them!” she scorned Mrs. Brown's warnings as she busily wrote mes- sages to the Sage City merchants that evening. ‘Of course they’ll pay for them! They can’t expect me to teach school with a stove poker and a washbasin.” **You don’t know school boards like I do,’ said the saucy little bird on Nellie’s hat,” parodied Mrs. Brown in operatic pes- simism, but June smilingly wrote out her last order, It was addressed to the Golden Rule Store and demanded three window shades, one door knob, one dustpan, two felt erasers, one water pail, six clothes hooks. She felt disloyal in not giving this busi- ness to John’s hardware store; but now that the day had progressed so handsomeiy and had ended in a sunset which trans- formed the red-rocked hilltops into jagged piles of glistening garnets, she felt more reconciled to being the stranger to John that he had decreed she must be. There was, of course, no use sending him the foolish letter she had written him from the schoolhouse; in its place she sent a short note to her grandmother. But the next morning, when she wanted to burn John’s letter before she left for school, there was no finding it. or “Lost something?’’ demanded Mrs. Brown, “Yes; a—a letter I wrote yesterday.” “Wasn't addressed to Mr. John Shep- herd, was it? “Ye-es,’ “Oh, I mailed it for you when I took the telegrams over to the station.” “But there was no stamp on it.” “T put one on.” Jane stared searchingly at the straight flat back, but her eyes fell as Mrs. Brown turned slowly to look at her. “Thank you very much,” she said pleas- antly. “John will be awfully obliged to rou.”’ But her heart fell. found another enemy. Her ambitions had iv CHOOL had been in session for two weeks before the school board took ac- tion, drastic action, late on a hot afternoon of July. The door, newly latched and newly hinged, was open; and the three windows, — paned, were thrown to the top, vainly imploring the breeze which scarcely fluttered the dainty dimity sash curtains. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Through them entered the hot smell of baking sagebrush and the sound of grass- hopper songs. Jim Holcomb, senior student, was proudly and audibly studying a phonetic poem in a third reader, for the new teacher had advanced him from the hated second reader on the very first day, It made him in his soul a king and in his heart her slave. His sister Ellen, at the blackboard, swung to and fro on her long, bare brown legs before a map of the United States, ear- nestly endeavoring to restrain the pine tree she was drawing in the state of Wash- ington from spreading its branches into Idaho and Oregon, the intended habitats, respectively, of a red apple and a woolly sheep. Thus far they were the entire attendance, but on the following Monday the Wiley brats were to appear, their mother having needed two weeks to replenish the ward- robes of the three curly-headed little girls who in the very near future would be the belles of the hill country, and to satisfy herself that the new teacher was any ac- count, even though she had established such an astounding friendliness with that Holcomb outfit. For June's interest in Jim and Ellen had developed into real affec- tion. They were such strange, starved little animals, Jim, though about twelve, looked like a sixty-year-old gnome. His eyes had been weakened by the cruel sun of the dry hills until they squinted back into a nest of wrinkles and often seemed entirely closed; and as if to balance this discrepancy, his mouth hung roundly and droopingly open. He wore two garments—a torn shirt and overly large overalls. Ellen also went clad in duality, her garments consisting of a calico dress made into bloomers by means of a large safety pin, anda hair ribbon. But they were clean. The effort that Mrs. Wiley spent in fastidious but far from immaculate adornment Mrs. Holcomb ex- pended with the se rubbing brush and odor- ee laundry soap. Ellen’s sun-shriveled, shrewd little face had taken on the light of accomplishment in the last two wonderful weeks. Having struggled for four years to familiarize herself with the primer, she was now enveloping all sorts of knowledge through the one channel possible to her drawing. Whatever she drew she could re- member. However, it was very difficult to keep the chief product of Washington from trespassing into Idaho and Oregon. Looky, Miss C’meron; can I change the map a little? My tree won't be pretty if I rub it off on the Idaho side.” She had just appealed to June, tall man stepped into the doorway. instant June wondered if he might be the head of the house of Wiley, renowned for spending every nickel for clothes. idea fleetly vanished. This was no man of the hills. ion—boots, khaki skirt, khaki trousers and wide-brimmed hat—he smacked indubi- tably of the East and just as indubitably of affluence, when a For an | But the | Though dressed in Western fash- | For the first time in two weeks | June gave thought, distressed thought, to | her unpowdered nose, to her uncertain coif- fure and to the small neglected ink spot on her gray crépe dress. It was pleasingly evi- dent, however, that the man was giving thought to far more optimistic aspects “Are you the-—the new teacher?” he finally asked, as if such fact were incredible. “Not new. I have taught here for two weeks.” Why had he come? “Indeed! May I come in?” “Certainly. Won't you sit down?” She offered him her one chair, which he politely refused in favor of the back desk top. His eyes ran amusedly over Jim and Ellen, who were surveying him with pro- nounced disfavor, Ellen’s eyes growing rounder and Jim’s seeming to disappear e ntire ‘ly within his scowl. “T’m sort of an envoy, Miss—ah,”’ con- sulting the envelope in his hand, ‘ Miss Cameron. Since I was riding out, exploring the hills today, I offered to deliver this let- ter for my friend Mr. Jennings, who was re cently put on the school board by an act of Congress—or something equally unex- pected.” Jennings? Jennings? The secretary of the school board—his name was Jennings. Real dismay flooded June's eyes as she took the extended letter, Jim and Ellen mean- while evincing an increased disfavor under the caller’s amused scrutiny. June’s glance leaped over the terrible num “immedi- ate resignation” violated your con- tract’’—‘‘exceeded your authority” —“‘very truly yours ——” PURE MALT VINEGAR The purpose of Heiaz Vine- gar is to impart flavor and develop flavor — not simply to make things sour. That is why salads made with Heinz Vinegar taste better. All the care in selection of materials, the skill in preparation, the long aging in wood, are to create that rich, mellow tang and aroma. 105

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Take This Light on your vac With You— this season —for that © amet ation th ip! Takes ito-touring trip Fae a dy with 300 - eng fn 9 alo ce brllaance an many wher rca vn, . nye just the e thing nics An eee -— ee ee Ayo her re. Won't blow out mal over Safe To © gare vill fuel eve n if UpE Je nickeled ~ Anyw t ot ay rip! A Rain prool. wilder Frc around, Built te ae ™ c himney: Bug-b me a UICK-LITE Love. “OQ aa ee ae a dealt to ae = 70" lian athe si nde rege wre nien lighted Ltapeny a % Lf your dealer an rn OL EMA Wwic TA, RANE Phitadelphie mnadian Factory ‘pecen® ’ FO G 1S TRIB TORS FeR-LITE cob ANY ronbon. W | similar. | say, he wasn’t pleased exactly. But Milli- THE SATURDAY “Oh,” she appealed to the interested en- voy, ‘“‘how can they act so? We just had to have the things! They can’t make me | resign when I have a contract, can they?” Here Jim and Ellen, vaguely understand- ing, took command, “You'd better not fire her! I'll tell pa to kill you if you do!” Jim opened the assault. “And he’ll do it too!’”’ seconded Ellen, advancing like a little cat to combat and | joining her brother in the corner, where | they combined forces, hurling out their battle cries one after the other: “You rich fellers can jest tend your own business!” “You can’t run our school!” “She’s an awful good teacher, so she is!”’ “She’s learnin’ us awful good grammar!” “An’ how to draw cats an’ cows an’ everything!” “An’ geography!” “ An’ nice manners)” “ An’ pa killed a sheep herder oncet, an’ he’ll do it to you too!” The visitor raised his hands high in sur- render. “Can’t you save me?” he importuned June. “Or are they merely demonstrating one of your lessons in nice manners?” June, laughing hysterically, put an arm about the shoulders of each warrior, and a queer expression came into the man’s cyni- cal gray eyes at seeing their response to her touch, They loved her—little, wild, uncouth creatures—and love's obeying is a beautiful thing wherever it may be manifested. They listened to her dutifully, though they deigned only the bitterest of farewell glances on the intruder. After they had departed on a lope down the hillside June sat down at her desk and inquired of her highly entertained caller, “Are you the Honorable Mr. Jennings’ honorable deputy secretary of the school board?” “Nothing so distinguished, Miss Cam- eron. I seem to be merely Mr. Jennings’ oat. In less strategic situations I am Baird 3laine, a classmate of Mr. Jennings and at present a guest at his ranch.” “Oh!” said June, feeling very much at a loss. Her heart beat oe Fath ly. This was the sort of man with whom she had populated the land of her dreams; edu- cated men of poise, humor and sophistica- tion, and always—always rich. Surely this man was rich. People said that yeung Jennings, who had bought the great Clear Creek Ranch, was a millionaire. What irony that she should meet her first rich man under such humiliating conditions! But he seemed a human enough creature, and a swiftly reminding thought of how desperate the situation really was swept away his impressiveness and left her con- cerned only with his mission. “Mr. Jennings hasn't any children, has he?” she asked abruptly. 0, he hasn’t, Miss Cameron.” “And if he had they’d never be sent to this little school, would they?’ “We-ell, . possibly not,” apologetically. “Then what on earth is he doing on this school board?” “He is letting his best friend go to war for him—though I assure you I’m indebted to him for the privilege. The fact is, Jack didn't seek this position. As I told you, he got it by an act of Congress, or something He wasn’t consulted and, I may cent—his wife—convinced him that it was his duty to take on the responsibilities of the community where he lived. But when the president of his—ah—organization wrote him please to call on the teacher not later than Friday and make known to her the decision of the—ah—organization— well, he rather side-stepped; though I’m positive Mrs. Jennings would have insisted on his coming in person if it weren’t that they’re welcoming twenty thousand head > cattle from Texas over at the ranch to- day. “Twenty thousand head of cattle,” re- ated June slowly, “‘and sending around is rich, amused friend to take away my little sixty-five dollars a month!” “Oh, say, Miss Cameron! maligning me—really _ are.’ “You are rich, aren’t you?” “We-ell, vicariously; must admit that mother is, quite so—and I happen to bea dutiful son at the moment.’ “‘And you are amused, aren’t you?” she persisted. “Considerably less than I was; I’m being rapidly reduced to remorse.’ You're EVENING POST “Your appearance doesn’t indicate it. And you have come to discharge me, haven’t you?” He laughed. His laughter was very dif- ferent from John’s, Laughter made John into a twelve-year-old boy; but it set un- mistakable sophistication on this man. It was a trained sort of sound, as if he touched a discriminative button to produce it. Nevertheless, June felt a thrill of pleasure at being so evidently able to interest him and to rouse that none too subtle admira- tion in his gray eyes. “IT hope you'll forgive what I came for, Miss Cameron, and judge me by my reason for remaining. I didn’t even need the pleas- ing assurance of your pupils to convince me that something was radically wrong with Jack’s organization. Do you mind telling me what it’s all about, so that I may make a comprehensive report when I suggest that they reconsider their blunder?” June’s explanation was a great success. Since the simplicities of reality seemed to amuse him so highly, she exhibited every article that had been purchased and made an expense account in red chalk on the blackboard, which he painstakingly copied into a gold- mounted leather notebook. They came out ten cents short; but the shortage was finally accounted for by the half dozen clothes hooks behind the door, on one of which hung her poppy hat. “Phew! Some hat!” he approved. “Yes, isn’t it? It’s my best one. But I wear it every day to keep up my spirits.”’ “T’ll wager,” he speculated, surveying the hat, ‘that you’re an Eastern girl out here on a lark.” June summed up the red column on the board—$78.75—and dusted off her hands. “Don’t wager heavily on it. I was born in Sage City; my Eastern manner I ac- quired from ten months in a Chicago room- ing house. And so far as being on a lark is concerned, if you don’t succeed in pacifying the school board I'll be put in jail for debt on that very hat. I promised faithfully to pay for it the instant I get my first month’s salary.” “The—the sixty-five dollars?” “Yes, indeed! Please don’t speak of it in such a tone. It’s a very good salary. The hat was only nineteen dollars, and my living expenses are only fifteen, and I owe grammy five, so at the end of the month I'll have twenty-six dollars toward my career—if I’m not discharged.” “Oh, so there’s a career concerned in this, too, is there? Well, there’ll be no dis- charging, I can assure you. If you'll per- mit me, Miss Cameron, it will give me great pleasure to present this school dis- irict with seventy-eight dollars and seventy- five cents of mother’s money. He reached casually for his bill folder and slowly drew a crisp one-hundred-dollar bill from its revealed riches. “Will it give your mother equally great pleasure?’”’ asked June quietly, but she flushed under his measuring look. She knew from it that he had expected her to demur. “Yes, indeed! Nothing delights mother more than an advance toward sobriety on my part, and this means that I'll be a hun- dred dollars soberer for this month at least than I would be otherwise.” June took the bill and examined it pleasurably. “You're making yourself sound a dread- ful devil, aren’t you? But tell me, why did you expect me to refuse this?” He smiled, surprisedly, admiringly. “Why, I didn’t! Of course I didn’t!’ “Ye-es, I think you did. But I can’t see why you shouldn’t, if you’re really rich. Besides, I’m sure the horrid old board will pay the bill themselves when they find you're willing to do it. But you see, I won’t have any change for this until after my first month’s salary, so I’m going to ask as a further favor that you settle the matter with Mr. Jennings.” After the merest instant’s hesitation he took the bill she held toward him with a careless “Surely; glad to,” and as he raised his eyes from tucking it back with its companions they fell on the sketch of Parent Holcomb in the rain, which lay among the papers on her desk. “Hello! So it’s an artist’s career, is it?” he exclaimed, holding the sketch off at arm’s length. June watched him breathlessly. There was no polite affectation in his surprised comment, which came like ambrosia to June’s hungry ambitions. She thought of John. If John had been shown the sketch he would have made some such remark as July 7,1923 “ Well, you can certainly handle the crayon, all right”; or perhaps ‘“‘Great Cesar! That’s a dismal-looking fellow. Why don’t you find pretty things to draw?” and any admiration in his eyes would have been for her, and not for the thing she was able to create. Blaine, looking up quickly from the sketch, surprised such a warm look of gratitude on her upturned face that he im- pulsively put one hand down over her clasped ones which lay on the desk in front of her. “Why, you’re an artist!’’ he said. “Oh, no, I’m not. But I want to be one—terribly. That’s why I’m so anxious to retain this lucrative position.” “Good Lord!’”’ he said, and slowly took away his hand. She gave no sign that she had even noticed his touch, but she was wondering at that very instant why it was that no endearment from John, whom she loved, had ever thrilled her as did the careless and out-of-place familiarity of this man. And while she serenely returned his gaze her mind rioted on ahead to the wonderful possibility of a summer’s friendship with this sophisticated pleasant person, who represented all that she hoped to attain. “Twenty-six dollars!’ he repeated re- a ely. “But you’re kidding me, aren’t “No, indeed, I’m not! It’s the proud and precious truth. Am I the first of my species that you’ve ever come in contact with?” “Species? You mean teachers?” “No, that’s only a subdivision. I mean the great poor-but- honest class, blessed by the incentive of poverty.’ “T’ll say you’re not the first! I’m the original slumming hound. Every Tuesday, in the réle of mother’s little helper, I en- lighten the East Side with gingerbread and undergarments. But I’ll admit you’re the first person I’ve ever seen who looks like a million dollars—on twenty-six.” “Thank you. But I haven’t the twenty- six—yet,” she corrected. ‘Don’t feel sorry for me though, please.” “Oh, I’m not.’ He found himself comfortable space on one end of her desk, appraising her with flattering eyes while he talked. “Perhaps I’m envying you. In fact I envy anyone who wants to do something. The Lord knows I wish I did!” “Well, the Lord knows I can’t under- stand the bore dom of the rich. Of course you’re the first rich person I’ve ever seen in the flesh, but all whom I’ve read about are bored to death. Doesn’t mother want you to want to do anything else except deliver gingerbread and undergarments—and be sober?” “She does, indeed. She wants me to marry someone who can afford to support me in the manner I’m accustomed to.”’ “And are you prejudiced against matri- mony? You look positively brutal.’’ For the pleasantness had left his face, and nasty little sneering lines nested about his gray eyes “I'm prejudiced against anyone who'd be willing to marry me. si ae must make your wooing difficult.”’ “é fery.”” Then there was a short silence. He was hard to talk to. She didn’t know just how to keep up with him. “My, I'd like to risk being bored with money!” she finally said. “What would you do first?” A swift light, unrelated to any excite- ment of the moment, flashed in her dark, laughing eyes. “Oh, I’d take the next train to the best art school in the world, and in five years I’d be painting pictures for kings and queens. I know it! Oh, I’d give my very soul for money!” “I—wonder—if —you—would.” Something vaguely disconcerting in the slow voice made her flush, and instinctively she applied his words otherwise than he intended. “We-ell, perhaps I wouldn’t be painting for kings and queens; but at least I’d be painting the kind of pictures my mind sees and that my hands aren’t able yet to copy.” “You’re—clever,” he said, and again she chose to evade his suggestiveness with laughing sincerity, hope I’m more than that. I’ll admit no one else seems to see as much in my work as I do, but I’ve a desperate con- viction that I’ve a touch of something heaps bigger than mere cleverness.” (Continued on Page 108)

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4 we

HIS handsome office was decorated and furnished by Wm. A. French & Company of Minneapolis, leading decorators of the Northwest. They have selected a Klearflax rug on account of its texture and durability THE SATURDAY EVENING POST

A KRUG GF RLEART URS —in this office by a leading decorator MAN'S home and his office —the two great interests of his life! Both the offices and homes of many business executives and professional men are planned by Wm. A. French & Company of Minne apolis, leading decorators of the Northwest In the office shown, planned and furnished by these decorators, a rug of Klearflax is used —selected because the texture and dura bility of this all linen floor covering fit in so well with the special needs of an office Linen’s great affinity for color is seen in the rich beauty of the Klearflax solid tones ; sand, chestnut, green, blues, gray, rose, mole, taupe, mulberry and beige. All these colors are obtainable with borders also, which give a very rich effect. Klearflax also comes in artistic color com binations, the Picwick mixtures. You will find them of a quaintly interesting character, very handsome as well as practical, and con tributing a certain originality to your scheme Just as much valued as its beauty is thi sturdy weave and durability of Klearflax For linen is the strongest of fabrics and Klearflax, just alike on both sides, can be turned again and again, giving remarkabk wear resistance. You know that “feel” of roughness and stiffness that all new linen has. And you know how soft and silky it becomes with use. You will notice, when you take hold of Klearflax, a quite pronounced reughness in texture. This is because into Klearflax are woven the coarse outer fibres of the linen plant as well as the silky inner ones. These stiff strands, however, soon soften with use and, like all linen, Klearflax becomes finer and more beautiful These same tough outer fibres give Klear’ flax a very thick, heavy body that lies flat on the floor and wears indefinitely. You can clean it easily, for, being linen, it is mothproof and does not readily absorb dirt; you can redye it and rebind it and have a perennially new rug that daily grows more beautiful and seems never to wear out Klearflax is very moderately priced; a 9 x 12 rug is $49; other sizes priced accordingly somewhat higher in the far West and Canada The all-over carpeting is also very popular, especially in the extra widths, for office uss It is priced at $4.10 a square yard The Klearflax trade-mark or label on every rug is your guarantee of genuine Klearflax, pure linen, both warp and woof, and pro tects you against cheaper imitations. You will find Klearflax a of the better store t near you. !f you do not know which one, write us. Send for booklet showing <« mplete 1Z¢ ind color range of Klearflax ru ind irpeting and giving interesting information on home decoration. The Klearflax Linen Looms, Inc., Duluth, Minnesota; New York, Textile Bldg., 295 Fifth Ave.; Chicago, Lytton Bldg., 14 E. Jackson Blvd.; Boston, 1058 Little Bldg Klearflax LINEN RUGS © CARPETING from The Klearflax Linen Looms. Inc DULUTH. MINNESOTA

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—— >>> uate WACE. on ies ae \ How +0 Care line scuffed | Shops fi Trim the rough ec until the sur face issamooth Saturate the daubet liber ally with Dy Pouch the scuffed spot Then proceed te shine i The leather will he smooth bright and clear yes anshine 1) time or tw the sh« Phat i scuffed spot and all md even in color, in lustre How to restore om faded Shoes & les in the shoe thor- oughly of “dirt and grease. Soap But don’t wash them only with a Then let them and water is good. ak shoes, damp cloth of ™ shack rage dry in the ly Dyanshine liberally to s, giving special attention to the Proceed to pe Clear, unitorm color will will entirely dis yppear Dyanshine consistently once a week and the leather will not fade again Now apy lish with a ided spots Barton's Dyanshine restores onceals scuffs. Pre- Shines shoes. No acids to harm. No after- odors to embarrass. No paste necessary. The shine will last a week color. ¢ serves leather le in Blac s of Tan and Brown ind \ hite Baees ime Manufactured only by BARTON MANUFACTURING CO, WACO, TEXAS, U.S.A O Shines Ocents ~ BARTON'S DYANSHINE DOUBLE SERVICE SHOE POLISH Mie Co al | | [ | =f | silence. | would carry him swiftly over the hills, by | roads and cow paths that rivaled a crow’s Z ZW | | ; ( | with THE SATURDAY (Continued from Page 106) This time he honored her evasiveness, | though not gener. He young off the desk, thrust his hands into his pockets and | sauntered to the open doorway. He was going—going. June could find no words to empty into the challenging The restless black horse outside flight, to a world as completely removed | from hers as if it lay fifteen million miles | distant instead of only fifteen, and she | would mean nothing more than an amusing | anecdote for him to tell at the dinner table. | Oh, if only some power could help her to hold him, to retain that flattering interest in his ironical gray eyes. Finally he cleared his throat and answered her. “Certainly, you've genius,” he said shortly; ‘don’t be afraid of the word. But it looks as if Devil isn’t so appreciative of his surroundings as Iam. He'll have that fence demolished in a minute. Let's get out of this coffin, If he'd carry double I'd offer you a ride; but, as it is, I should enjoy walking home with you-—-if I ma His words asked a favor, Kis voice granted one, and June knew it. Her in- stinct told her that frankness was her surest weapon—a discreet frankness wary of too great an eagerness—so she answered his voice rather than his words. “Thank you very much, kind sir. Of course, I'll be delighted. I was petrified for fear you were going to ride disgustedly iway because I confessed I'm a genius, and I'd never see my rich man any more.” He !aughed with less of the touch-button cound than before. “Don't worry, Miss Cameron, If I may match you in frankness, I'm just as in- terested in you as you are in me. But come on; [I don't feel at my best in this little pill b x.” “Not too great an eagerness—not too great an eagerness,’’ whispered the warning. ‘No, I have to attend to my Friday- night house cleaning,” she insisted, and had the satisfaction of his clumsy assistance the sweeping, board cleaning, and eraser dusting. She came on a letter from John as she was clearing her desk, the only letter she had received from him; the letter that how queerly, how queerly -had given her such pleasure in the last two days. For John had waited almost two weeks before | answering the letter which Mrs. Brown had | seen to it that he should receive. And in | those slow-passing days June had grown restless for word from him; had grown less | and less certain that it was impossible for her to marry him. So that when his letter finally came every word was welcome and some of them were kissed. It had said: June Darling: There’s no use my trying to give you up. I've tried to stick it out, but you know very well that I'll always be loving you; so I guess you'll just have to go on torturing me until you either kill me or marry me. I'm expressing you a camping cot today. And day after tomorrow I'll look for a letier. Maybe I'll drive out there Sunday. I will if I can, I've had a mighty good month and I'm awfully busy unpacking and shelving a carload | of new goods. But I guess if my flivver will get me there you'll see a man whose a fool about you next Sunday sometime. I'll promise you this, though, my girl! The next time anybody mentions marrying it'll be yourself. Lord, I do love you! Good-by. Joun. Yes, every word of it had been welcome; and the discouraging little misspelled “whose” had been forgiven with a kiss. But now She held the envelope for an instant in both her hands, as indifferent to it as if it were from a stranger. “T oughtn’t to feel this way,” buked herself futilely. But nothing can warm indifference. It is a fact and not a variable. For he was not a mere man who stood outside dusting the two red-white-and-blue erasers. He was opportunity. He was a king of her air castles. True, there was something vaguely repellant about him; something that roused a faint fear in her; but this only fanned the excitement that glowed in her breast like a hot coal. This letter—why should she keep it? She knew it by heart anyway. With quick fingers she tore it across several times and thrust it into the mass of papers in the freshly blacked stove, closing John out of her mind as completely as she had put aside his words that she had kissed For opportunity dusts erasers only once. And surely enchantment touched the hot road, even though the disgruntled Devil, she re- EVENING POST on an unwilling rein, interrupted many a sweet speech by snorts and plunges of re- bellion at ade meandering. For what confidences are ever again so sweet as the first revealing barter of personalities? June thrilled with accomplishment at rousing real laughter in him with small tales of her girlhood, of her grandmother, of her Sage City cr.cies, of her great hopes and their small fulfilling in Chicago, of the Cotton- wood residents, the station agent, the Hol- combs and Mrs. Brown. But John Shepherd’s name did not cross her laughing lips. And what Blaine told her of himself was equally free of any hint of romance. The cynically humorous glimpses he gave her of his life summarized into seasonal campaigns of theater, opera, new dance steps, novel reading—for con- versat’ ~2l purposes—flirting with new girls, g. nug with old ones, auction bridge, yachting and poker; all this tempered with a few hours now and then in an office whose door was distinguished by the golden letters of his name, and where he managed his mother’s affairs by permitting a little bow- legged man to show him how and where to sign various documents. His sarcasm puzzled and charmed her. Once, stooping so suddenly that Devil snorted and almost snapped his reins, he brought up a mountain lily from close under a sagebrush, a dainty, cool, three- petaled thing that might better have graced some fern-shaded bower. “ As delightful a surprise in this desert as a charming girl in a Paris hat and gown,” he said, handing it to her. “All I can accept of that is the ‘charm- ing’ part.’’ She knew she was flushing with pleasure. “I've told you about the hat, and I made my dress myself. It cost. exactly two dollars and thirty-five cents— without the thread.” “It might have cost two hundred dollars and thirty-five cents, and looked less than yours. Design is what counts. As we've said before, you're an artist.” So many things that he said made her bring John up in comparison. John thought her clothes were too plain; he liked little ruffles and ribbons and flutings. Now, just as he crossed her mind in another little trail of disparagement he crossed also her amazed vision. They had topped the hill and come into view of the Brown residence, which, with its two high-set square windows, exactly centered door and tipsy stovepipe, looked like a happy-go-lucky Irish tramp. Great activity surrounded it. An addition, con- sisting of a brown canvas tent, was being attached to its south side. And astride the tent top, perched perilously and swinging a hammer with magnificent motion, sat John, blue-shirted, muscular, bareheaded, pouring out the resources of his heart and is hardware store for her comfort. “What —in—the— name—of—heaven!” murmured June, hating him for his devo- tion. Her mind raced round like a white mouse in a cage, and with equal futility. She was ashamed of herself for knowing she was going to be humiliated when the two men met; but her littleness of spirit was bigger than her control of it. Blaine continued making humorous and unheard observa- tions of the dwelling, while she came to the conclusion that in some manner he must be dismissed here at the hilltop fence. “Jove! I wish I could swing a like that fellow,”’ Blaine was ““Ho-ho! Look at his assistant! your landlady?” A tall, brisk, sunbonneted figure, weap- oned with a two-by-four, appeared on the slightly sloping roof; saw them; remained, statuelike, in her surprised survey, and waved. “So that’s what the Teme babies grow into!” observed Blaine. “Regular Statue of Liberty! I know I’m going to like that old girl.” But June had no notion of indulging the anticipation in his voice. She blessed the fence stretching in front of them. “I know you will, too,”’ she agreed warmly, “but I think you'll find her more entertaining when she isn't so busy. Don’t bother with the gate. I always slip through here.”” Slipping between the end posts, she smiled at him over the three strands of barbed wire. “I'll be more hopeful of your coming again—with Mrs. Brown as an in- ducement.”’ “But why this sudden cruelty? I’ve been daring to hope that the briny Mrs. Brown might ask me for dinner. I’ve never had a dinner out of the brine.” a hammer envying. Is that July 7, 1923 “I’d hoped the same thing,”’ she assured him, ‘‘but we probably won’t have dinner tonight out of anything—just—just proba- bly a sandwich.” Levity was leaving her for a sickening seriousness. And still he refused to accept his dis- missal. “‘They’re more hospitable than you are, anyway,” he said, and turning to follow his eyes she saw John coming to meet them, covering the ground fleetly, with long, lithe strides of his legginged legs, his big blue- eyed face under its thatch of boyishly rumpled hair alight with pleased wel- coming. But June saw only the blue shirt why is it that blue shirts hold none of the beauty that blue gives to harebells and heaven? the blue shirt, open at the collar and bloused at the belt. She held her hand up in limp greeting and turned back to Blaine. He knew. He was laughing at the little- ness of her artifice. His smiling eyes read and delighted in the confusion that blos- somed prettily in her cheeks and slender throat. Her mental attitude somersaulted dizzily. Instead of being ashamed of John before this handsome worldly stranger, she was humiliated to the depths of her that he should know she was ashamed of John. She hated, suddenly, his poise and sarcasm and amusement. “So the handsome carpenter is a friend of ours?”’ he said, laughter in his voice. “The best friend we have in the world,” she returned warmly, and had at least the satisfaction of lessening the banter in Blaine’s eyes; and with the loyal words came a strengthening emotion that held tenderness toward John and indifference for Blaine’s opinion. She went a few steps to meet John, tak- ing his arm with a graciousness that ar- mored her determination. John, however, was possessed of no artifice. He was surprised at her escort. He looked as dis- gruntled and taken aback as a high-school boy jealous of his sophomore sweetheart. It was Blaine who eased the situation, ex- tending a gracious hand over the fence and carelessly leading John into conversation, while June’s merciless eyes saw that John was provincial and awkward. After a few minutes’ talk, which touched the bill of goods which was to be presented to the school board, Mr. Blaine swung into his saddle and departed in a cloud of dust, hav- ing left a polite ‘Then I'll see you again soon, I hope, Miss Cameron,”’ to ring as echoingly in John’s ears as in June’s. Alone, her first words to her lover were as abrupt as the dispatch with which she removed her hand from his arm. “John, why will you wear such awful shirts?” she asked fiercely. After an instant’ssteady gaze he matched both her tone and irrelevance. “Why in thunder didn’t you tell me about the board? I don’t like his paying for those things. It doesn’t look right.” “Well, I guess it looks fully as well as your coming out here and building me a house without being asked to!” This retort so completely bewildered his honest eyes that she broke into nervous laughter, declaring childishly,‘ ‘Well, you've no right to act as if you own me!” “T’m going to own you some day,”’ he said, stubbornly sullen. “You nev er, are, John Shepherd! Never, never, never! “Oh, yes, I am June.” She stopped in the road and looked back at him, a tiny shaft of fear in her black denying eyes, and flung at him the words that were her stronghold: “Ye-es; my mother loved my father too. How can you think that is any argument for happiness?” “That isn’t fair, June; he said slowly. “T don’t know of anything fairer than truth,” she retorted, but she melted into grateful admiration of the new tent house with its shining floor of wide white boards and its brown new-smelling canvas walls. Mrs. Brown left none of its virtues un- praised, and took the first opportunity to whisper to June: “He's a real man, with a heart in him. It’s a shame you had to choose this day for picking up a beau. It’s made him look downright sick. Now you see that you’re double nice to him to make up for it.”’ But though June did try conscientiously to heal the sick look, she knew that John felt the shallowness in her smiles and bright chatter as they worked about together, (Continued on Page 111) because you leve me, that isn’t fair,”

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SATURDAY EVENING POST It’s easy to beautify and preserve your y y y woodwork with Valspar Varnish-Stains— How often it brightens up a room to change the color of the woodwork ! And it’s no work at all with Valspar Varnish-Stain. For both Valspar and stain are applied with one stroke of the brush. Anyone can do it. Valspar Varnish-Stains are the famous Valspar Varnish plus permanent wood colors. They will never turn white. They are proof against water, accidents, wear and all kinds of weather. Thi ire unequalled for floor front doors, furniture and all Woodworl ndoors and out —that require staining and varnishing. { You can secure them in Light Oak, Dark Oa . Walnut, Mahogany, Cherry and Mass Green. Waterproof and translucent, these stains protect the wood and bring out the grain in all its beaut Valspar Varnish-Stains stand all the famous Valspar tests. They are easy to apply, work freely and moothly under the brush and dry hard over night. 4 VALENTIN E’S VALENTINE & COMPANY, 456 Fourth Ave., New York | ] enclos mps 20c apiece oan 7 a — ap f | : t sup} rps ok - . 2 Vaispar Stain . BD) price. Print ¢ n F ress plair ly.) State Color Valspar Dealer Valspar Ename! State Color dD coal VARNISH-STAIN ‘ The famous Valsp ar ti water test Your Addr City f

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST July 7, 19235 Famous Thermoid Standard Chart—shows distances in which car should step if brakes “The hedge shut him off till we were right on top of each other. Out he came, just off my left mud-guard! I threw everything I had into my brakes—the car bucked once, twisted then stopped dead. “T felt the breeze of that other car as he whistled by! They don’t come any closer.” Brakes saved this smash-up—brakes lined with Thermoid. Thermoid does more than slow you down— it STOPS you! Thermoid grips surely and evenly—from the first day on. Hydraulic pressure--2000 pounds of it —~makesit denseandcompact— onesolid mass. This tremendous compression takes out all the further “give”? which you have to compress out by long, steady braking in other linings. Thermoid wears down slowly, instead of mashing down quickly — because it is so dense. And it grips evenly—every inch of it-—until worn thin as cardboard. ,, soft brake lining, This means poor wear ant frequent adjustment ry . Thermoid never wears down =f? bret nine. This mann poor wees Ors revere! edjudimers. out. Wears down slowly, grips when worn wafer-thin . or 99 eu in spots, or “grabs” in an We Needs fewer adjustments. Steady wear soon squeezes out “ragged edge” on ordinary are efficient. Brakes lined with Thermoid meet these standards wittite Will your car do this ? it wears down instead of.mashing down. What's more, it enables us to compress 40% more material into every square inch of brake lining! This extra material--found only in Thermoid— means: Fewer adjustments Approximately 40% more wear. The cost of brake adjustment over a period of three years mounts up. Thermoid-——dense and firm— seldom needs taking up. You can chalk up a definite saving right there. Thermoid has always been a safe brake lining—it is now known as the most economical. Oil and moisture do not affect Thermoid A brake lining which absorbs moisture or be- comes glazed with oil will slip or take hold in “jerks.” Thermoid cannot swell, slip or snatch be- cause of a special treatment applied in its making. This treatment is called “Grapnalizing.” It was invented by our own engineers——it is found only in Thermoid. It makes Thermoid Brake Lining absolutely proof against oil, moisture and gasoline. Play it safe for any emer- gency. Know your brakes, and emergency. — Thermoid’s 40% more material means a big saving tu you That 2000 pounds compression makes Thermoid so dense that when you need relining, specify Thermoid! THERKRMOID RUBBER COMPANY Factory and Main Offices, Trenton, N. J New York, Chicago, Los Angeles, Detroit, Atlanta, Seattle, Kansas City, Boston, San Francisco, Cleveland, London, Paris, Turin Thermoird Brake Lining Hydraulic Compressed Makers of ‘‘Thermoid-Hardy Universal Joints’’ and ‘‘ Thermoid Crolide Compound Tires”’ “Out he came, full steam ahead!”

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(Continued from Page 108) while Mrs. Brown exerted herself preparing an early supper that should be worthy of such a grand young man. After the work on the new quarters was finished John dug them a cellar of washtub dimensions in a well-chosen spot below the spring, in order to reduce the crocks of brine. June sat on a rock and talked to him while he worked. His eyes asked endearments, and she ex- erted herself to compensate for what her heart denied him by a flattering interest in his business recitals—the big sales of the month, new lines of goods he had decided to carry, an old style of pump he was getting rid of, the new cash system, a bread mixer that was a seller from the word go, and so on—hardware, hardware, ad infinitum. Once, pausing to wipe his forehead with a handkerchief that had become grimy in her service and which brought her a thought of Blaine’s fine snowy linen one, he asked politely, ‘‘How’s the painting coming on, honey?”’ But before she could answer, his own question brought another matter to his mind. ‘Oh, by the way, I got good news the other day, about the Bobcat oil wells. It looks pretty hopeful. I shouldn’t wonder if I'll bless the day yet that you talked me into that deal, And if they do pan out June, smiling queerly, completed his re- mark with a sarcasm for which he naturally could divine no reason. = y," she breathed, bread mixers you they do!” John colored slowly and struck an angry shovel into the hillside. “T don’t see any occasion for that re- mark. Think of ’em, if you want to—if you can take your mercenary mind off that smooth city guy long enough to think about anything else.” John always quarreled like a child, with no relevance; but when he grew angry June always grew gentle, for the hurt in his eyes covered the sting of his words. “Yes, I’m mercenary, John, and I did happen to be thinking of Mr. Blaine; but if you’ll come over here I’d like to forgive you for telling me so—with a kiss.” John went. “Wait, I’ll say thank you, too, for all that you’ve done today—you blessed old dear.’’ And she gave him generously her forgiving lips, trying fiercely to kindle the same feeling in her heart that flamed in his. But it was no use; too great a tantaliz- ing fire of future possibilities was already blazing there. And she could find nothing within herself except a distaste for the warmth of his body, for the blue shirt so proudly soiled in her service, for his stolid belief in himself, for his solemnity of mind. But night has magic for doubting hearts. As the purple haze of evening fell her 9 “just think of the can stock up with if small flivver truck to the barbed-wire gate which inclosed their twenty-acre yard of sagebrush; and, suddenly touched by the devotion and the yearning in his eyes, she put her arms up to him as they stood to- gether by the gate and let him hold her in a long embrace, her heart eased by a real tenderness for which she was gr: ateful. “Oh, girl, pered. “Oh, I'd be so good to you, honey!” His colossal seriousness broke her mood and she pulled herself away from him, call- ing back lightly as she ran down the road, ‘I’ve never denied it. But I can’t paint pictures with a scrubbing brush. Just wait till the Bobcat oil wells come in—and see how good I'll let you be to me.” It sounded unkind, crude; as if in apology, she added in a different tone, “Good-by, dear. Of course I love you.” If Mrs. Brown had not been watching she would have cried, without knowing why, as she stood in the doorway watching him disappear noisily over the hill. She was glad to have the moving of her clothes and camping cot, to busy herself and par- tially to divert Mrs. Brown’s tongue. In clearing her half of the bureau top she found a new issue of Art Advancement which had constituted the day’s mail. Opening it carelessly, the pages fell apart at the picture of a handsome, gorgeously gowned woman, a Mrs. Hamilton Blaine. June’s breath caught in her tight throat while she read rs. Blaine, the well- known friend and patroness of art, left for a summer in the West, after her phe- nomenally successful benefit toward the establishment of a scholarship for art stu- dents. She and her son Baird would visit Japan and Honolulu before returning to New York June reread it. This must be the thing called coincidence. June, shivering, hon- ored it as destiny. She held the magazine reverently and sat down on the doorstep with it on her lap. Through the dusk, gold tinted still, and purple from the voluptuous day, a high star faintly pricked its way into her vision, and almost unconsciously her lips moved in the’ old, oid wish her mother had taught her “Star bright, star light, first star I’ve seen tonight, I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight’’; and, as with her mother, ambition and love crossed swords within her heart. So, trying to placate them both, she made her wish: “Oh, little star, find someone else for John to love—and for me too,”’ she added, fright- ened at the little chill of loneliness that swept over her at the sound of her whis- pered wish. (TO BE CONTINUED) PHOTO, GY GEORGE L. BEAM. COURTESY OF THE NATIONAL PARK SERVICE OF THE DEPARTMENT OF THE INTERIOR Hovenweep National Monument, Colorado-Utah. Towers Perched Upon a Natural Rock Foundation One of the Remarkable Prehisteric THE SATURDAY antagonism died. She went with him in his | you do love me!” he whis- | H rite of the EVENING POST db Here’s Where the Office Manager for Booklet Neglected lhe Cost Inch Can Save Money N some offices, furniture is still dragged and hauled about, pieces racked and strained, floors gouged, lino- leum scarred, rugs and carpets dam- aged beyond repair. That’s the old way. Easy rolling office furniture equipped with Bassick Casters, the right kind for the pur- pose. That’s the new way. More than ever before Bassick Casterg, are being used to insure floor protection. Furni- ture, especially the heaviest pieces, moves smoothly and silently with a minimum of effort and friction. Many dollars can be saved by using Bassick Casters on ALL your office furniture— too. Your dealer will be glad to advise you what kinds to buy. Ask him to show you the Bassick blue and yellow package. at home And every piece of furniture you huy should be equipped with Bassick casters. THE BASSICK COMPANY Bridgeport, Conn. 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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Have you aw Niagara? Nothing quite compares i i hi AR M\ wi | nuh Ne fit} yt , | : i We) ] 3 | ! VA Ny if . | | with the sensation of ——- where Niagara, l stuns with thundering sound, and feeling with Abraham Lincoln the power of this great cataract to picture the story of the human race through the ages « New York Central Lines prentee special stop-over facilities at Niagara Falls. New illustrated hooklet may be obtained by addressing Advertising Dept., 466 Lexington Ave., New York. sl alll LI I. j / | than in draw poker. "NEW YORK CENTRAL LINES BOSTON GALBANY~ MICHIGAN CENTRAL ~ BIG FOUR ~ PITTSBURGH & LAKE ERIE AND THE NEW YORK CENTRAL AND SUBSIDIARY LINES , NE Ww YORE July 7, 1923 (Continued from Page 21) | clever at making the switch. The saloon man’s money was finally reduced to about : | fifty dollars, when he and Tex mixed in a pot planned by Tex to break him. Tex was a good friend of mine, so I concluded to | take the privilege of playing a joke on him. | I annexed the three aces from his hat and | stepped back to the bar. Tex reached his hand up with a gentle touch that ended in a quick rub across his hatband. Then he whirled to the right rear and his eyes lit on a laughing crowd. He repeated the same rformance to his left and began to curse. he louder he cursed the more the crowd laughed, but the saloon man thought it was merely because he was sore at losing the pot. Marked cards were more often used by the sharpers than any other form of graft. Their use was far more effective in stud Scores of methods | were in use, and are used today, by which certain marks are placed on the backs of cards—delicate dabs of paint preparations, thumb and finger presses, block-out work with a penknife, scratches, hand crimps, shading, sorts and numerous other forms of work. Good shade work and sorts are among the hardest to detect. However, artistic crimping won more money for the traveling sharpers than any other form of marking. Hand crimps are cards that are bowed to a delicate nicety diagonally their length and lie slightly different from other | eards on the table. New cards, crimped, would hold their shape for some time, and it was marvelous beyond belief with what certainty the trained eye of the cheater could read them. Methods of Marking Cards Any form of marks which could be placed on cards while in play offered obvious ad- vantage over premarked decks. If used by an outsider, the latter had to be brought in by cold-deck methods. I have known cheat- ers to break into saloons at night in order to replace the cards in stock with their own marked ones. Often it would be several days before the house would discover the exchange, and by that time the grafter would be gone with a bunch of money. Sometimes the men who ran the games would use marked cards, but square games | were a decided asset to any gambling house. The average player is incapable of protect- | ing himself from cheaters, and a house guaranteeing this protection would get the big play. Places that had infrequent games, however, often resorted to big-mitt meth- ods. All gambling games were operated on a percentage basis, and a steady play was all that was needed to make money for those that ran them. A quick eye and years of training were necessary for the use of delicately marked cards. There were many who tried this form of graft, but few who were experts. The smallest natural flaw on a card was at once noted and remembered by the topnotchers. To find a gambling house that was using marked cards was like giving these men an invitation to a feast. Their trained eyes and minds soon solved the combination, and if a big game came up they would make a cleaning. Shade work is done with a combination of acids delicately applied to change the luster at different places on the backs of the cards. The coloration is so delicate that only the trained eye can detect it, yet the expert can read it across the table. The iong distance from which it can be accu- rately read and its peculiar invisibility to the untrained eye make it a form of cheating extensively used in crooked gambling houses. Sorts involve a test in memory training. A couple of dozen decks are examined for flaws, and usually two or thr. > sets of fours | can be secured from that number showing slight defects. The imperfections are so in- significant that they are seldom noticed by | the average player, and at no time can evi- dence of their use be pinned on the grafter. For no deck of cards comes from the factory | without one or several of them showing some sort of imperfection. Just because one deck of cards shows more defects than another | is not proof that any one person in the game | knows these defects, for they do not at any time reveal a combination. | Another form of sorts, more commonly | used and requiring less mental training, is | the sorting of combinations from facto cards. All brands of cards can be sorted, Z| PLAYING THE GOLD CAMPS and this statement in no wise reflects on the manufacturers. As an illustration we will use the Blank brand. The red-and-blue checkerboard backs are cut at different places across the diamonds on both sides and edges; also, the corners vary to a con- siderable degree. By sorting a number of decks four aces can be secured that are cut squarely across the middle of a diamond; four kings that show white border on the edge; four queens that show a trace of red or blue; and four jacks that cut a quarter diamond. Then al! cards that match these are eliminated from the deck. This is but one illustration of various combinations that can be sorted. Location, like sorts, requires memory training; but unlike sorts there is no pre- vious fixing of cards. But a gambler who is — at one form of this work can usually andle the other to advantage. Expert shuffling is a necessary accomplishment when playing location. The cards are mem- orized in order, according to the number the locator can look at without, attracting at- tention before he shuffles. This is easily done, for a quick glance is sufficient. Re- versing the cut after each riffle quickly places them undisturbed in the position de- sired. Asthey are usually delicately crimped into a bunch before being shuffled it is more than likely that the average player will cut down to the located card. If a confederate is slicing them he rarely misses the exact spot. If cut correctly the hole card in stud and most of the cards in draw will be known to the dealer. However, regardless of where they are cut, the locator has a tremendous advantage, for he knows either that certain cards will not be out on his deal and can be eliminated from guesswork; or if, when the deal is partly over, they begin to fall, he knows the coming cards. For instance, the dealer's hole card is a queen, his opponent is high with a jack, and from the manner of his playing the dealer is quite sure that he is paired. Each has three cards, and the third that falls is an indicator to the dealer that the fifth will be a queen, so he stays and pairs his hole card on the last turn. Some are so expert that they can locate certain cards on their opponents’ deals. In practi- cally every poker game you will see some player pick up the cards which lie faced on the table, place them on the top or bottom of the deck and give them a few careless rifles and set them for the cut. This kind of shuffling means velvet to the locator. The Art of Shuffling Run-up hands are cards placed in posi- tion just prior to or while shuffling. They are usually built up by a confederate of the dealer’s and crimped to a break or else cut false. Trained men can build up false hands with incredible speed. After being placed in position, however, much uncertainty exists as to their outcome. Not a card must be disturbed in the shuffle. They must be cut exactly right, and often after the cards are dealt some stubborn player insists on remaining in the pot and spoils the draw. Or again, the victim gets suspicious and re- fuses to play the framed hand. None the less, a great amount of money is won by the grafters by this method, for if one frame in ten goes through it is sufficient to get the big winnings. a shuffling is the art of rifling the cards so as not to disturb certain ones in the process. At the same time the shuffler must give the appearance of having suffi- ciently riffled the deck so as to change the original position of all the cards. The trained ear of the gambler can usually de- tect a break of sound as certain cards are passed during the shuffle. The back of the hand and fingers are used to advantage as a screen while shuffling. False cutting is used as an aid to false shuffling when two men are working to- gether. There are several methods, nearly all of which require the use of both hands So look out for the double-handed cutter. Take a deck of cards, halve it quickly, flaring up the outer ends as you do so, and then drop the under half closest to the dealer and note how hard it is for the aver- age person to tell which is the top or bot- tom half. Or pull the deck apart and twirl the top half under the lower cut and return it to its original position. Some cut by gripping the cards and chopping them re- peatedly while holding the thumb and little finger at a break in the deck, and returning

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them to their original position at the finish. Any form used, if done gracefully by an ex- pert, can be detected only by those who know. When a cheater has no confederate in the game he must use his own devices. By holding the eye of the most watchful player he can often pick up the under half first with one hand and place the top half back to its original position. Others are so expert that they can pick up the two halves with one hand and shift the cut while plac- ing it in position for dealing. There are several other forms in use, but these are sufficient to warn those who play in games they know nothing about to insist on a sec- ond cutting or else stay out when they see unnecessary motions. Crimps and breaks are used when located or framed cards are shuffled into the deck. During the instant that the cards are drawn apart for riffling the portion containing the frame is pressed together by a squeeze of the hand and also delicately bowed at the same time. They are then shuffled to the desired position in the deck and placed to the player on the right to cut. Invariably, as cut by the average man, the loose upper half of the deck will release where it meets the break caused by the crimp. Even if the framed or located cards are not cut at the desired place, the dealer still has a great ad- vantage by knowing that certain cards will not be out on that deal. For instance, once in a stud-poker game I tried to convince gambler by a stiff bluff that my hole pach was a jack. He called me on a weak hand and later kidded me about the play. For in spite of my watchfulness he had shuffled three jacks into the deck and the cut had not released them on the deal. Being Kind to an Old Man Signs or signals are absolutely necessary for the successful operation of confederates in a poker game. If used by card sharps who have rehearsed them sufficiently, they are practically impossible to detect, for of- ten there are several signs meaning the same thing. The position of the cards, hands, hat, money, chips or any other ob- ject can be used to convey a signal. Strippers are cards whose sides have been carefully trimmed. A few of the higher suits— usually three aces are sufficient—are left untrimmed. I was just sixteen when I got my educa- tion in this form of graft. I had a few dol- lars and a gambling fever, and my intended victim was a decrepit old man in the rear of asaloon. He was so feeble and trembled so when he cut the cards that it was necessary for him to use both hands. I felt sorry for him every time he sliced the deck. He made many apologies for his apparent helpless- ness and valiantly tried to overcome his infirmity with repeated drinks of whisky. However, the old codger was lucky, and soon separated me from my money. It rather stung my pride that a feeble old man should beat me, so I rustled another stake and returned. And to come quickly to the point, rustle stakes was all I did for the next three weeks. I just couldn’t let that old fellow get away with my money, for I knew that luck would soon turn. It didn’t mat- ter if I did have to saw hard-oak wood with a bucksaw until my back broke, pile lumber in the hot sun until I was ready to drop, and, worst of all, clean out pigpens just to get money for another game. Then one day a rounder, possibly feeling sorry for me, said, ‘‘Kid, take my advice and quit playing with that old man; he is cheating you in every game.” “TI don’t see how,” I retorted, ‘‘for he is just: lucky enough to get all the winning hands on my deal.” “Of course he does, for he is playing strippers on you.” “Strippers! What are they?” “He has all the deck shaved but three aces, and when you pass them to him for cutting he pretends to be so trembly that he has to use both hands and fumbles around as if he could scarcely get them to- gether again. All the time he is running the ball and thumb of his right hand along the sides of the deck, hunting aces. When he gets three on top you deal, and if seven-up, he holds three aces; and if stud, each of you has an ace in the hole and he always makes a pair of them I took the tip and laid off; I had fur- nished the old man food and drink long enough. Second dealing was a very necessary ac- complishment of all cheaters. However, there were few who were really good. Ifa marked card showed on top of the deck that would give the winning hand to ; opponent, or was needed by the dealer him- self, the dealer would deftly draw the first card beneath the top one. Done by an ex- pert, it was practically impossible to see the card removed. As the ball of the thumb often roughed—was passed over the upper right-hand corner of the deck the top card was slightly drawn back by the left thumb and the edge of the second card gripped and | kly that the | whisked to the player so quick eye could not follow the motion. However, the somewhat unusual upward tilt of the deck, quick motion of the hand and the swishing sound of the card rang a bell for the gambler. Yet there were second dealers who had become so expert that they had practically eliminated these defects. Bert Bell was the most perfect second dealer that I ever saw. I firmly believe that it was impossible for any man to be more expert. He dealt from the side in- stead of the upper corner. He had eye and nerves that coérdinated perfectly with his nimble fingers. Whether dealing square or crooked, the motion of his hands never va- ried, and he would hold the deck in a nat- ural position. He was also an excellent bottom dealer, quick run-up artist, expert false shuffler, besides being good at several other forms of graft, especially location. He was always on the move and made big money. Every dollar that he made above bare living expenses he placed in the bank faro bank; and though it has been many years since I saw him last, I am sure that it is still all there. He was never a piker, and would lose his last dollar and bum money to eat on. He never quit winner at bank for anything less than all the bank roll; noth- ing else would ever satisfy him. One night in Butte, Montana, Bert made the house turn the faro box over. He sat with thousands of dollars in gold, silver and currency stacked before him. But his in- fernal lust for draining the last drop of blood from his victims caused him to pur- chase the stock, fixtures and lease of the saloon on condition that they reopen the farogame with the money. They did so, and had the pleasure of staking him to break- fast money the next morning. Faro was the one game that Bert could not cheat, and he was forever filled with an insatiable de- sire to outluck it, A Topnotch Second Dealer Though Bert Bell's work was all classy stuff, his general appearance was decidedly against him. He was light-haired, slimly built and weighed about one hundred and twenty-five pounds. He had a white, pasty complexion that I could never account for; for, strange to state, he never touched liq- uor, was not a drug fiend and did not dally with the skirts. He was a neat dresser; and this, combined with his slim, white fingers and peculiar complexion, attracted unfavor- able attention to him among the roughly dressed men of the mining camps. His eye was steel blue and his general manner cold and snaky. In fact he always re- minded me of a snake. It was during the boom days of Goldfield, Nevada, that Bert stopped me on the street and asked me if I wouldn’t come to the saloon that evening where he was dealing twe nty-one. “Walk around be hind the table and stand on my right,”’ he said. ‘Il am getting wages and also a percentage of the winnings. | will tell the house that I have hired you as lookout for the evening. But I don’t want you for that; you are to watch my second dealing and see if you can really tell when I deal crooked. Each day yor years I have spent not less than two hours in practice work. I believe I am so good that no one can actually see the card come. I am mark- ing the cards with the ball of my thumb The press is very faint, but I have the lights arranged so that it is no trouble for me to read them. If anyone detects it I can swear that it was slipped over on me by some outsider.” For the first couple of hours there was nothing but small bets, but Bert went out for every piece of change that was slid on the table. One fellow quit a few dollars winner; but that did not bother Bert, as a second dealing only gave him an added ad- vantage. Then a notorious bad man and gambler from Cripple Creek, Colorado, walked toward the table. Bert’s quick glance at me and faint smile told me that he recognized him. A couple of months previ ously I had seen the bad man smash a fellow in the face with the butt of his revolver. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST A safe foothold The non-skid soles on Grip Sures will never slip ERE is the rubber-soled canvas shoe that gives you speed and action with safety. The patented suction cups on the soles of Top Notch Grip Sures make outdoor men and boys sure-footed even in slippery places. These cups grip the ground or rocks and prevent skids and accidents. For all summer wear—for base ball, camping, hiking, golf or for indoor sports such as basket ball—Top Notch Grip Sures will give you greatest comfort with longest service. Made by hand from start to finish, Grip Sures are built as carefully as the finest leather shoes. The live rubber soles, the uppers of Top Notch long fibre duck and trimmings of real leather guarantee the long wear. Your shoe store or sporting goods dealer has, or can obtain, genuine Top Notch Grip Sures for you. Look for the patented suction cups as well as the Top Notch Cross on the soles and ankle patches. TOP NOTCH A GUARANTEE ae OF MILEAGE J@| Made by BEACON FALLS RUBBER SHOE COMPANY BEACON FALLS, CONN,

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THE SATURDAY Dust-and-Valve Cap On or Off in 5 Seconds, Just catch the cap on tip of valve stem with a turn or two —then push cap down to rim nut —a few more This Ends the Valve Many of the leading car manufacturers specify these caps as stand- ard on their trre equip- ment. Loek for Instant -ons on the valve stems of the car you buy. Dig turns to tighten and the cap is on. It comes off just as easily—simply reverse process. | stance. Cap Annoyance With Instant-ons on your valve stems you never lose a moment when there is need to change or inflate tires. These caps combine valve cap and dust cap in one convenient unit which goes on or off in a few seconds. What motorist has not experienced annoyance from old-fashioned multi- threaded dust caps? That annoyance is ended—most cars are now equipped | with Instant-ons. If your car is not equipped, buy a set from your dealer today—five in a box for $1.00 ($1.25 in Canada). By mail, postpaid, if your dealer cannot supply you THE DILL MANUFACTURING CO., Cleveland, O. Manufactured in Canada by The Dill Manufacturing Co., of Canada Ltd., Toronto Also Manufacturers of Dill Standard Tire Valves and Dill Valve Insides Tire Valves and ValveParts EVENING POST This had happened at Jerome, Arizona, and he had at once skipped town. As the bad actor approached the table I saw Bert reach to the money drawer on his right, pull it six inches farther open, flick a roll of bills to one side, noiselessly cock the revolver which was in the drawer and place it in a handy position. Without a word, the newcomer shoved a five-dollar gold piece into position on the green cloth and Bert shuffled and passed the deck for him to cut. He dealt two cards each to the player and himself; and, according to the rules of the game, faced both of his opponent's cards down and one of his own face up. The gambler slid his two cards toward the center of the table and placed his money on top of them, thus signifying that he stood his hand. In twenty-one the player has the privilege of standing on any two cards, but the dealer must draw to sixteen or less and stand on seventeen or over. Bert's faced card was a ten spot—all face cards count as ten spots in this game—and his hole card was a trey. Any card on top of the deck from a nine to and including a king would break his hand. f one of those cards was there, did he have the nerve to go second for asmall bet? I hardly thought that he would do so, but a moment later I knew that Bert had chanced a shooting scrape for five dollars. The gam- bler then threw a ten to the table and Bert won it on the square. A twenty-dollar gold piece was then flung on the cloth, and Bert, as cool and gracef Je though dealing for a | rank sucker, again went second. The bad man flipped another twenty on the table, and the cards again breaking bad, Bert dug | beneath the surface for one more suitable | to his hand. Then a strange thing happened—the card | came partly out and for a fractional instant | stuck. Later examination showed that it had picked up a tiny speck of sticky sub- Instantly the gambler started around the corner of the table and I heard Bert say “Stop!” in a low tone of voice. The gambler halted, and my eyes followed his gaze to where the eae of a revolver was just peeping above the edge of the table and pointing directly at his chest. Still speaking in a low tone, Bert said, ‘‘I am paying the bet; take your money and beat it.” The gambler started to argue. “Shut up!” Bert hissed. ‘‘Get out of here, and damned quick about it too! Keep your mouth shut about this little affair and I will do the same.” Artistic Cheating The bad man picked up his two twenties and faded away. There was a noisy crowd drinking at the bar, and it all happened so quickly that I am quite sure not a person in the room besides us three knew that an | event out of the ordinary had occurr resumed his dealing position at yut he had lost his lookout. Bert said as I Bert calml the table, “He won’t come back,” started to leave. “I am taking no chances,”’ I replied. Yet Bert was right; he did not return. Cross lifting is used when two sharpers have a sucker sitting between them. The one on the sucker’s right makes a large bet, and the sucker, having a cinch on the bet- tor’s hand, plays back. Then the confed- erate to the sucker’s left calls and makes the | big play. Though there are other forms of cheatin at cards, I believe that I have cnaesael enough ways that a man can easily lose his money to a crooked player without a pos- sible chance of winning. Some form of the methods described is used at the present time by all the big crooks. The best of them learn to do their work artistically. They do not rob their victims as the fiction writers always state they do. This four-ace stuff to the gambler and four kings to the sucker is only dene by amateur card-player writers who do not i their subject. A real card sharp never makes the mis- take of frightening his victim by handing out large sets of fours. It is far more artis- tic to beat a set of threes; and if the crook has properly placed the cards and knows that the salar did not help on the draw, he can win large pots and at the same time os the appearance of being a liberal player. ull houses are as strong as any professional July 7,1925 rafter feels warranted in handing out in a raw game. In stud poker small pairs do not frighten the suckers, but they are sus- picious of aces and kings. However, they are always anxious to have them for their hole card. In fact the ace is known among gamblers as the sucker card. No other term could be more appropriate, for by no other method will a sucker separate from his money faster than when he has an ace in the hole. It is his pet card, and for some reason he seems to think that the other fel- low also has the same preference. The crook plays on this weakness by slipping the sucker an ace or king in the hole, and either giving him high niggering cards or else pairing him, and then giving himself one or two small pairs as the occasior re- quires. The best crooked gamblers, those who are not constantly on the move, play in ac- cordance with the game that they are sit- ting in. If the game is a fast one, with big money in sight, they are keyed up to take every unfair advantage that opportunity offers. On the other hand, there are many games and men that can only be separated from their money by milking methods. Each day the grafter annexes a sum of money in accordance with the size of the game. If his persistent winnings seem likely to bar him he will make a few losings to reéstablish his standing. Expensive Hunches “Luck” is the worst abused word in a poker game. I have often heard men curse because they could not win, when really they were holding the most wonderful hands but lacked the judgment to play them prop- erly. If cards break even for a square gam- bler, that is all the favor he needs to win. Often the real card player will sit for hours without winning a pot, and then recuperate his losses in just a few minutes. Hoodoos and hunches are fantastic crea- tions in the minds of suckers and gamblers, and influence both to a marked degree in their playing. Nearly all gamblers are su- perstitious and ascribe peculiar powers to certain persons or objects. Personally, I know to a certainty that it was largely ow- ing to the fact that I refused to have any superstitions whatsoever that I was often able to make good winnings from those who were bound by the spell of this or that form of magic. As an illustration of the influence a gam- bler will sometimes ascribe to the presence of some certain individual in the same room, I am reminded of an incident in Spokane, Washington. We were playing stud poker in a barroom when a gambler entered and bought in with three hundred dollars. He lasted about an hour and lost his money like a gentleman. As he arose from his seat his eye rested on a young would-be gambler standing by the stove in the far corner of the room. “I know now why I lost,”’ he said as he crossed to where the young fellow stood. He cursed the lad and threatened him with severe punishment if he ever again entered a room when he was playing poker. “All winter I have lost whenever you entered a building, and you are now warned for the last time.’ Many will not sit into a game unless they have certain objects of wood or metal in their possession. Others ascribe good luck to certain kinds of dress, the chair they sit in, or certain days of the week. All these superstitions were a perpetual source of amusement and—incidentally —of profit to me. Hunches always seemed to me to be a fool’s excuse for making plays for whieh he could give no valid reason. The best gam- blers who play on the square must learn to be keen judges of men, and in a certain sense are mind readers, psychologists. On the other hand, hunch players are those who are always calling the other fellow without reason, on the chance that they will catch him bluffing. Of course they some- times do; but the pots they win are only sucker baits. Remove superstition and hunches from poker and play it on the square and you have a battle of wits and luck, with the latter always second, but a valuable assistant. Editor’s Note—This is the second of three arti- cles. The next will appear in an early issue

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST THIS HAPPENED t H.L.D and then he got a Philco What experiences —embarrassing—or dancer mus—have you had with ordinary batier We would be glad to hear from vou Se = a> * “My Wife Was Right” re | “She warned me to play safe—to get a Philco Battery. But I couldn't see the point. Thought our old battery good enough. Ard here’s the : sequel’’— writes H. L. D. “A long stiff hill, a stalled engine, and the battery flunked—-petered clean out. With my daughter at the emergency brake—two men at the back—I toiled and sweat and CRANKED until that big. stiff-jointed motor started.” “But never again!’’ adds H. L. D. For then HE got a Philco—the \ o 4 > . oy ’ . . . . s . . 3-Point Superiority long-life, high-powered battery that whirls the stiffes’ engine—gives you 1. The Famou- Diamond-Grid— thite-t ‘oniti DS Vv » Tooth afte See ean s steady white-hot ignition—keeps your lights brillian. hour after hour. Philco plate. Built like a bridge ‘ . . . ‘. Can't buckle—can't warp—can't Thousands upon thousands of other motorists—with similar hand short-circuit Jouble latticed to ° . ° A ‘ 4 lock active material (power-pro cranking experiences behind them—are replacing their ordinary batteries duc oh cal) th lates ° ° - ° ’ . Lonaerdiie, alate aiiainen with Philcos. They demand Philco’s MARGIN OF SAFETY —its tre- 2. The Philco Slotted-Rubber mendous surplus power in reserve for emergencies. Retainer—a slotted sheet of hard MB rs St seem ih Why not get YOUR Philco now and be safe? A Philco Battery, with current and electrolyte. Prevents Diamond-Grid Plates and Slotted-Rubber Retainers, carries a TWO- plate disintegration. Prolongs bat : tery life 41 per cent YEAR Guarantee and now costs you no more, in many cases even less, . S. The Guarter-Sawed Maré than just an ordinary battery. ' wood Separator—made only from - - giant trees 1000 years old; quarter sawed to produce alternating hard See your nearest Philco Service Station at once. Write for a compli- and soft grain Hard grain for “ “a perfect inoulation of pletes. Soft mentary copy of our new booklet, ‘“‘ How to Stretch Your Battery Dollar.” grain for perfect circulation of acid and current—dquick delivery of power. Another big reason why e . ~ ‘ 1: ° | Philco is the battery for your car Philadelphia Storage Battery Company, Philadelphia LOOK FOR THIS SIGN of Philco Service. Over 5500 sta Philco Batteries are standard for Radio ‘‘A™ and "'B electric passenger cars and rahe tions—all over the United States trucks, mine locomotives and other battery uses where long-lasting, low-cost service is demanded. Whatever you use Batteries for, write Philco There is one near you. Write for address, if necessary HILADELPHIA _ ey IAMOND > GRID BATTERY With the PHILCO Slotted Retainer \ > — IAMOND @ GRID RADIO DEALERS—Philco Drynamic RadioStor ID ILA IN Ah © | : —J) ‘=> age Batteries are shipped to you charged but abso lutely DRY No acid sloppage. No charging equipment No batteries going bad in stock Wire or write for details

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ELLIS ISLAND SOB STORIES (Continued from Page 25) To appreciate how perfect in finish, how refined in style shoes can be, examine FLORSHEIMS. To experience how low in cost, how comfortable shoes can be —wear FLORSHEIMS. Most Styles $10 Look for Name tn Shoe BOOKLET "STYLES OF THE TIMES’’ ON REQUEST THE FLORSHEIM SHOE COMPANY Manufacturers « CHICAGO ey The Parkway Style M-118 Fe : seiaiieaiiti A > for the man who cares SS NET WEIGHT MONARC CH appe MARK Ah s Tem ONE POUND ESTABLISHED igs5 CHICAGO ONARC Nlone better obtainable at any price costs you less QUALITY TEA ~ COFFEE ~ SALAD DRESSING ~ CATSUP SWEET PICKLES ~ FRUITS and VEGETABLES ae picpidesehlnne Chic _s REID,» MURDOCH & Co. New es ae eS EE | | ' | | j | herself a servant. | wife of anybody at all. What would be said if an American lady were treated in this fashion at Naples or Genoa? What must Italians think when an Italian lady is forbidden to land in New York on a palpably absurd pretext? It should be plain to the mean- est intelligence that an immigration law is not meant to apply to visitors on business or pleas- ure, There is absolutely no charge of any kind against this latest victim of Ellis Island tyr- anny. She is not a person of bad character, nor is she likely to become a public charge. She has no intention of remaining in America. What makes this treatment of her more amazing is the willingness of the Dogberrys of the immi- gration office to admit her if she will declare How would this make her less an immigrant subject to the quota rule? By what right does Ellis Island interpret the law to suit itself? This is no isolated or unusual case, Similar things happen day after day. It would probably be safe to say that hardly a passenger ship ar- rives at the port of New York without some discreditable occurrence of the sort. What is the idea? Are we trying to appear in the eyes of other nations as a semibarbarous tribe, sus- picious of all foreign devils? It is high time to put an end for once and all to this incredibly perverse interpretation of the law. Now, this newspaper has an important and efficient bureau in Washington. It op- erates a leased wire between the editorial offices and its office in Washington during certain hours of the day. A brief message from the managing editor to his representa- tive in Washington would have obtained for him the following facts: The lady, according to her own sworn testimony, wasn’t the wife of a Milanese banker. As a matter of fact, she wasn’t the True, at some time | in her life she had been married, but she | had been divorced some sixteen years be- | fore. As to her ex-husband’s business, she was very vague; but she thought he might be in the importing business at Bari. There was a general haziness about her matri- | monial affairs except for the statement that | she had two daughters just where they were is not apparently a matter of record and that her former spouse contributed nothing to the support of his family. The woman stated in her sworn testi- mony that she had lived with her mother in Milan for the past four years. Her passport, however, was issued in Buenos Aires in 1918 and was extended by the Italian consul in Berlin in 1922. Questioned, she finally ad- mitted that she had lived in Buenos Aires for the past six years. What Inquiry Revealed The statement that she had come to the United States to make a brief visit to rela- tives was also very far from the fact. Again referring to her own sworn testimony— iven at a hearing, where the presence of a friend i is permitted—she said she intended to establish herself in the business of im- pores antiques. She had just twenty dol- ars in American money and 1000 lire in Italian money as capital for this venture, It appears, however, that somewhere on this continent there is a stock of antique furniture consisting of six chairs, one table and one wardrobe, presumably her prop- erty, for which she said she paid 4000 lire. She had shipped this furniture to a woman she had never met and from whom she had never heard. Her status, of course, on her | own testimony, was that of an immigrant to this country to reside permanently. One doesn’t have to travel in the steerage to be an immigrant. The luggage incident was ludicrous, When she was placed on board the steam- ship for deportation she learned that her baggage was not on board. She had given her baggage checks to someone, had for- | gotten whom, and when asked if she had | rescue his ‘cousin If | any baggage replied that she had not. This, however, provided ali the scenery for a fine / | attack of hysterics, and the authorities eventually had to remove her from the shi 3 gy the usual masculine fear of this a a ~% talian banker did figure in this case. But *he i is a New York Italian banker and not a Milanese banker. He did not appear rsonally, but was somewhere in the offing, abeled cousin. Cousins are quite as com- mon among immigrants as grandmothers | are among office boys. This Italian banker sent an employe to ” from the toils of the autocrats of Ellis Island. He had an en- | tirely new line. In his testimony he said | that the lady who had accomplished the July 7,1925 seemingly impossible feat of living in Buenos Aires for the last six years, and with her mother in Milan for the last four years, was in reality a maid in his employer's home in Italy. Ingenious argument, that. Domestic servants accompanying employ- ers are exempt from the quota law. This witness also volunteered the statement that she was coming to this country to prepare an apartment for his employer's wife, who, by the way, has never been in this country. He apparently knew nothing of the an- tiques. The only trouble with this scheme was that it didn’t work. The alien was recalled and promptly denied she was a do- mestic, saying that the banker’s representa- tive was only trying to get her into the country. Some newspapers stated that the immigration authorities tried to get her to say she was a domestic servant, which is manifestly absurd. Now had the facts been according to the editorial quoted above it was a rattling good story. It was a rattling good story anyway. It lasted a week or more. The department was raked fore and aft by Re- publican and Democratic newspapers alike, and the fire beneath the desk chair of the commissioner-general continued to burn brightly. It would be funny, if it were not for the fact that several million people still believe that the immigration authorities actually dragged the wife of a prominent Italian banker, on a visit to this country, from her first-class cabin and deported her because it gave them some sort of amuse- ment or enabled them to respond to the demands of some kind of complex. Another Sob Story Run Down This case was eventually disposed of by changing the status of the woman from immigrant to that of visitor, and she was admitted for six months. The six months are up. No one knows what has become of her. Perhaps she is preparing an apart- ment for the wife of the banker cousin. Perhaps she is established in the cozy business of importing and selling antiques. Who knows? Eventually the immigration authorities will pick her up. They always do. Then she will be deported and the file closed. Suppose we shuffle the clippings on the commissioner-general’s desk. Here’s a headline: Ninety Smyrna Refugees. Surely this must be a story which will warm our hearts. The wholé United States stood aghast at the accounts of the destruction of Smyrna and the accompanying atrocities alleged to have been committed by the Turks. All sorts of special legislation were suggested for the purpose of affording relief to the victims of this unspeakable crime. The Government of Turkey was described as the well-chosen friend and boon com- panion of the soviet government of Russia, and immediately designated as one of the world’s greatest international criminals by all classes, from the lowest to the highest. The American people seemed to be of a single mind with regard to caring for any of that stricken city who might find their way to our shores. We finish the headlines. lieve it: Ninety Smyrna Refugees Deported to Greece. Pathetic Scenes at Brooklyn Pier as Excess of »nmigrants, Pauperized, Saili. We look at the commissioner, and al- though he has recognized the clipping he is actually smiling. We read esther It is indeed a pathetic story of wd rending scenes, lamentations and hopelessness. But the commissioner actually continues to smile. Perhaps the papers, the ardent wel: fare workers, are right. Perhaps he has a Trotzky or Lenine complex. But we are very soon enlightened. The situation is absurdly simple. The deporta- tions referred to in this clipping included absolutely no Smyrna refugees whatever. Here are the facts: For some time there had been accumu- lating at Ellis Island and at other stations a considerable number of aliens who were natives of excluded territory in prewar Turkey. In order to avoid possible hard- ships—and let me say right here that the immigration officials are tireless in their night-and-day search for ways and means of eliminating all possible hardship—depor- tation was stayed in the cases of suchaliens, pending possible relief legislation. The Senate actually did pass a bill under which We cannot be-

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aliens of the Armenian race, coming to near relatives in the United States, might be ad- mitted. When it became apparent that the Senate was about to pass such a bill the cases of all aliens who had been held under a stay of deportation were carefully con- sidered. In every case which in any way seemed to come within the scope of the bill the aliens were temporarily admitted as soon as it had passed the Senate. Now it does seem that this action on the part of the department should indicate very clearly that its disposition is inclined to be kindly and that it has at least flashes of humanitarian impulses. It took a lot of time and effort to review all these cases, and no one had to doit. At the first whisper of possible relief legislation the officials with- held deportation, incurring great expense and trouble. Those among the detained whose cases were not even remotely under the impending legislation were ordered returned to the countries from which they came. None were refugees from Smyrna. Asa matter of fact, none of them were refugees from any part of that portion of Turkey included in the Senate bill. Critics Without Facts Of course, every newspaper story of this kind which appears inspires the writing of thousands of letters by individuals in all parts of the United States, addressed either to the commissioner or to the Secretary of Labor. Many of these letters are answered. It is manifestly impossible to answer all of them with a complete statement of the facts. The department has become cal- loused in at least one particular—it is hard- boiled when it comes to reacting to adverse criticism. The following communication, written by a woman living in Rochester, New York, is a good example: I can read of such things as these no longer without asking how long we must go on doing such inhuman things. I send these two cases from many I might send because they are the latest, not because they are more flagrant than numberless others. It seems to me that we have done everything we could to make the rest of the world feel that we are utterly without feeling and selfish these last four years. Are we going to keep on until most of us feel we can have no self-respect left? I for one feel only the deepest humiliation for my country at pres- ent—and I am far from being the only one of whom this is true. I realize that your hands are largely tied in this matter, but can you not do something? The lady inclosed two clippings. The one contained the story of the ninety refugees from Smyrna. The other contained an edi- torial on what is known as the case of Colonel Erarsky. The colonel had been an officer on the general staff of the Czar of Russia, and a gallant officer he is. He is a cultured, highly educated gentleman who has much to commend him to all genuine Americans and much which probably causes him to be damned by parlor Bolshevists and cheap radicals. He served in Wrangel’s army and was driven out of Russia by the Bolshe- vists. There must be some good in every Russian who has fought that crew of inter- national pirates. But the colonel ran into a peck of trouble. The quota law defines “‘nation- ality”’ as “place of birth.’’” Among other things accomplished by the war, plus the treaties of peace, is a fairly considerable number of changes in the map of Europe. The territory in which the colonel was born is now Lithuania, and the Lithuanian quota was exhausted when he arrived. Of course, the papers had it that he would be returned to Russia and just nat- urally shot to death by the Bolsheviki. It is quite well known that they have a nasty habit of doing this sort of thing, particu- larly on rainy afternoons when there is nothing very amusing to do. But the colonel wasn’t deported. As a matter of fact, before this letter was mailed—even before the editorial inclosed was set in type-—he had been admitted. Deportations are not ordered hastily. It was discovered that he is a member of a learned profession, and, as such, exempt from the operation of the quota law. Now the department has no objection to receiving letters of inquiry from anyone who may be inspired to write them. As a matter of fact, it welcomes them. But how much easier, how much simpler, how much more dignified it would be, simply to write something like this: “T inclose clipping. Is the story true?” THE SATURDAY Then the department could answer: “Letter and clipping received. No.” There is one piece of legislation in con- | nection with immigration which in my | opinion is totally without merit. Vetoed by three different Presidents, and finally passed over the veto of President Wilson, it repre- sents nothing more than an unintelligent | groping of Congress in its search for re- | strictive measures which might result in some form of a selective policy. I refer to the so-called 'iteracy test. Whenever I rave and rant to the commissioner about this test he just sits and grins. I honestly don’t know whether he is for it or not. Some- times I think he is really opposed to it, but doesn’t care to admit it even to hiinself, so fearful is he that something will disturb Congress in the even tenor of its way, which now leads to both restriction and selection The literacy test requires that the immi- grant be able to read and write a certain number of words, not necessarily in the English language, but in some one lan- guage. Its purpose is obvious; it is to keep out all illiterates. But does it even do this? | One government at least carries its desire to sell us its excess population to such an extent that it has established and equipped a school to train its illiterates sufficiently to | pass this literacy test. If, however, the fundamental purpose of the act is to keep out undesirables and ad- mit the desirables, it has had a pronounced negative effect. Quite an appreciable num- ber of the best immigrants are of a Euro- pean peasantry who can neither read nor write, while every so-called extreme radical can usually read and write in two or three languages. Perhaps this is what makes him wild In innumerable cases this test works a real hardship and may be to the great dis- advantage of society. As usual, this can best be described by citing a specific case. On July fourth, in the year of our Lord 1922, there arrived at the port of New York by way of the steamship Colombo, first | class, one Francesca Guglielmino, a native of Italy. She could neither read nor write, nad three dollars in money, and her desti- nation was the home of her brother in San Francisco. She said she had had a check for fifty dollars, but had lost it. | Heckling the Department Now the law is mandatory with regard | to illiterates unless they belong to one of the exempt classes. This woman did not; neither did she make any claim as to re- ligious or racial persecution. Being a na- tive of Italy, she could not. She was excluded and ordered deported as a person unable to read and liable to become a public charge. The case was acted upon by a spe- cial board of inquiry and reviewed by a board of review, which recommended that the excluding decision be confirmed. It de- veloped that the brother is a prosperous insurance broker in San Francisco earning almost as much as the Assistant Secretary of Labor, had approximately $1500 in the bank, owns an automobile and lives in a six-room flat containing furniture worta | $4000. He was able to dispose of the liable- to-become-a-public-charge obstacle, but not of the mandatory character of the illit- eracy exclusion clause. On July seven- teenth the commissioner-general wrote to Congressman Kahn, who had become in- terested, explaining that the woman’s ex- clusion was mandatory, as she belonged to none of the exempt classes of illiterates, and explained in detail why even temporary admission was denied. On July nineteenth | the board of review granted a hearing to | the secretary of the congressman and recommended a stay of deportation for one sailing, in order that the brother might reach New York and visit his sister before her departure. In due time the brother arrived in New | York—-and apparently went to Washing- ton, for the record indicates that he had a conference with some of the officials in the Department of Labor. In any event, on July twenty-fourth the status of the woman was changed from immigrant to visitor, and Assistant Secretary of Labor Henning ordered that she be admitted for six months under bond. On March 10, 1923, there appeared in a prominent San Francisco newspaper a story with a six-column headline reading: Love Loses in U. S. Red Tape Fight. The sub- heading occupied two columns, and read: Three S P. Kiddies Denied Foster Mother Under laniertien Ruling. This was fol- lowed by the interesting information—set EVENING POST 117 Carpet-sweeper speed for the brush—Terrific power for the air-suction The gently revolving brush straightens the nap and a young cyclone extracts the dust and grit by MRS. MARY MADISON OVE the Onno for ward or back, and the re- volving brush gently agitates the nap, fresh- ening it, renewing its brightness, flicking up all the surface-lint, threads and hair into the tremendous gulping air-draft, and so into the Ouro bag. Yet you could let the Outo stand on one spot for an hour, and the nap would not suffer, because the brush does not turn while the Onto is standing! And the motor stops the instant you raise the handle. Mie The Cleaner with the Self-Starter Even if the mud has dried ‘way into the hall carpet, the Onto makes every trace vanish. The Onto has powerful suction and its mighty inrush of air sucks up the grit from the very depth of the fabric, and from beneath it. That air-suction is direct—a straight-line throat which shoots the dirt direct into the dust-bag without any unnecessary lifting or forcing it around any angles. And, since the Ou1o motor does not have to be slowed down The Self-Starter No matter what other Feature you may over look, when you buy a clear be sure it has a Self-Starter d without propping, when you stop cleaning to answer the bell to operate the brush, the suction fan is run at the motor'’s full speed, thus drawing up the dirt from even the underside of the carpet. There are so many fine things to be said for the new Onto that I can’t tell you here; so send for the book, Good Housecleaning, which may save you many disap pointments, and the name of the nearest Onto dealer, who will gladly demonstrate the new Onto in your own home on your own Tugs. The OHIO Man is Not a Mere Salesman The OHIO man is, first of all, a gentleman He has had special training on how to clean and care rugs and upholstery with the least la and will show you how And you are obliged one bit te buy uneil you get good and ready. Let him demon strate the New OHIO right in your home on your own rugs. A slow-revolving brush makes the rug ready for that 1 dust in aler: The gulping gullet . OHIO » dust can escape this cleaner 1 how de apdiduanhiniedia Ganae-od rpet Send fo this book _ is not a catalog. It's & 00k heer tells you what you — to know before vou buy Y cleaner and forestall (pects regrets later. It tells you how t ™% get more done with less eff — Your copy is waiting for you . ——= Where shall we send it? THE UNITED ELECTRIC COMPANY, CANTON, OHIO Since 1909 @ 1923 In Canada, The United Electric Co., Ltd., Toronto Also makers of TUEC Stationary and TUEC Swimming-Pool Cleaners DEALERS —A few valuable dealer and distributor franchises are available SALESMEN — Also openings for high-grade “OHIO Men.” Built as Women Wanted it Built

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THE SATURDAY Hires HOUSEHOLD EXTRACTS ROOTBEER INGER ALE or mak ing G 2 A Pure at home (panto tt I IS LATAYA Delicious Beverage One package makes 80 glasses. If your dealer cannot supply you, send 25c and we will send postpaid package direct. Or, send $2.80 for carton of one dozen. Canada and foreign price 35c and $4.00 respectively. THE CHARLES E. HIRES CO. 208 South 24th Street, Philadelphia, Pa. Charles E. Hires Company, Limited, Toronto, Canada Ask for aint H i res Sent Three Reasons Why Pioneer-Brighton Means Comfort ] The Wide-Web—The happy combination of the width and weave of the web gives perfect support without the least tight- ness or binding “)— iresh, live el “soecial Brighton elastic, iis long easy strete h, w/the comfort of the wide web Brighton Elastic is kept live “by our triple wrapping of soft, fine varn. This protects against the deadening action of perspiration Only the with istic assures insist on Web Gar For real garter comfort Pioneer-Brighton Wide ters Remember—wide web alene does not insure comfort The Spe cial Brighton elastic is as necessary as the width of the web Pioneer Suspender Company = :: [PIONEER } Br Brigh fon WIDE- WEB GARTERS Philadelphia, Pa. For 46 years manufacturers of Pioneer Suspenders Pioneer Belts Pioneer-Brighton Garters | before the law,” | be compel | in the past. | and is well experienced in raising children and EVENING POST two columns wide, boldface, in a box that ‘Just before leaving for Europe on the George Washington today, Senater Hiram Johnson, of California, said he would do everything in his power to help obtain per- mission for Miss Francesca Gugli :Imino to stay permanently in this country. He said he would try to reach his Washington office by telephone before sailing and instruct his secretary to make the necessary appeals to the immigration authorities.” The story itself is a most artistic example of what is known among newspaper men as a sob story. Here is the way it starts out: “Their real mother taken away forever by God “Their foster mother summarily ordered by Uncle Sam to tear herself from their embrace and leave America forever “Thus stands the fate of three San Fran- cisco tots today—a fate that impends only to satisfy an inflexible law of the land.” The story then goes on to tell how Fran- cesca Guglielmino, aunt to three mother- less children, had entered the home of these children “with the radiant smile of a mother. As she had mothered the father, years ago in sunny Italy, so did she ten- derly care for his children, babe and all.’’ It told how the California senators had taken up the fight. They had said in effect that if the law would not allow her to stay they would make a new law. It also told how such a law had been drafted, but that “tin the rush of legislative business the bill that would have kept Miss Guglielmino forever at the side of her motherless neph- ews was tabled.” It told how “sternly as a sworn official he’’ — Commissioner-General Husband ‘decreed that the need of the three mother- | less orphans of Salvadore Guglielmino” apparently now orphaned in spite of the fact that Salvadore is very ieadh alive and very much in evidence —“‘ have no standing and so on and so forth, winding up with: “Three weeks now stand between happiness and despair for the Guglielminos; three weeks before man- | made law must shatter a higher law that knows only love and mercy. Three weeks more and The story was something of a classic of its kind. Any red-blooded American, with no knowledge of the facts, would be in- clined to grasp the first weapon at hand and start for the Bureau of Immigration, intent on expressing his attitude with definite acts. But let us see what happened be- tween July 19, 1922, and March 10, 1923. Change of Status It will be remembered that Guglielmino came to Washington and saw Assistant Secretary Henning. Without doubt, he saw a senator and a congressman or two. He is a prominent Italian-born American citizen, and undoubtedly, as the record shows, has some influence in California, particularly among the Italian-born citizenry. The record also shows that Henning carefully explained the situation to him; and that he, being an intelligent man who has built up a successful insurance business, thor- oughly understood the mandatory charac- ter of the law, and understood that no one, from the Secretary of Labor himself down, had any discretion in the matter. However, he succeeded, with the help of the private secretary to a congressman and tlie private secretary to a senator, in persuad- ing Henning to change his sister's status from immigrant to visitor and to admit her for six months under bond, in order that she might visit her brother’s home. Up to this time her nephews had never seen her and therefore had had no opportunity to develop much affection for her. This action was taken by Henning, how- ever, only after he had entered into a specific agreement with the brother. It was definitely understood that at the end of six months the sister would be returned to Italy without expense to the Government, and that, furthermore, the brother would ask for no extension of stay. He also definitely agreed that he would make no attempt to change the alien’s status from visitor back to immigrant. But on January 9, 1923, Guglielmino wrote Henning as follows: Tam supporting my sister, and if she should led to go back to Italy I would still have to support her over there as I have done She is fifty-nine years of age now, she raised me. She was a mother to me and she is a mother to my three little boys. Need- less to say, she is very much attached to them July 7,1923 and they to her. Iam appealing to your good- ness of heart. I implore you to use your good offices to secure permission for my sister to remain in this country permanently, in order to assist me to raise my boys to manhood. I can give you any re ~asonable assurance that may be required that she is now well protected and that she will be even as well protected in the event of my death. She never will be a public charge. I trust you will grant this permission to my sister, in order that she may assist me in prop- erly raising my three children. On January thirteenth, Mr. Henning re- plied to this letter at very great length. As a matter of fact, his reply contains nearly a thousand words. This in itself indicates the very careful consideration which he gave to the matter. Henning expressed himself as deeply dis- appointed. He reminded the brother that he is an intelligent man and must under- stand that the law is the law, binding the public officer as well as the citizen. Once more he explained its mandatory nature, excluding the sister. He recited the agree- ment entered into by the brother when in Washington. In closing, he said, “It simply proves again that we make a mistake when- ever we permit an undesirable alien to enter the country for any period of time, no matter how small.’ But the matter was by no means ended. Guglielmino had been busy. On January 19, 1923, Congressman Kahn introduced a bill in the House which ‘‘authorized and directed the Secretary of Labor to perma- nently admit to the United States, under such regulations and upon such require- ments as may be prescribed by him, Fran- cesca Guglielmino, sister of Salvadore Guglielmino, a citizen of the United States, said Francesca having been temporarily ad- mitted to the United States.” Renewed Appeals This acted most effectually as a stay of deportation. The congressman wrote the department inclosing a copy of the bill, and asked that the woman be permitted to re- main at least until March fourth. In response. to this request, deportation was stayed, pending action on the bill. By this time the officials were heartily sick of the whole business. On January twenty-third an immigration inspector called on the brother in San Francisco and requested him to produce his sister for re- examination as to her ability to read. In all probability it was thought that the brother, knowing he was going to make the effort to change the status of his sister from visitor back to immigrant, would have en- deavored to prepare her for reéxamination and that this might be an easy way to close the incident. But the woman had apparently made no attempt to learn to read. The brother told the inspector that it was no use, for his sister could not read any better than at the time of her entry; and he told the inspector more than this. He said he had telegrams from a congressman and a senator inform- ing him that they were taking steps to have a special bill passed allowing his sister to remain in this country. By February twenty-eighth it was evi- dent that this special bill would not be passed. As a matter of fact, it never had a chance of passing. The department, with unlimited patience, faced with the exigency of having to enforce laws which constantly violate humanitarian impulses, once more ordered a stay of deportation until April first, ‘in order to give the woman time to prepare for her deportation in the event that Congress did not act on the bill prior to March fourth.” And after that—the deluge. Telegrams, letters, newspaper denunciation and what not. The managing editor of one paper wired Husband that all San Francisco was aroused—and it was—including women’s bodies, clubs, civic bodies, officials, mothers and fathers, and that his paper was start- ing a campaign in which other papers were joining, and so on. To this the department replied with a letter simply stating that the temporary admission would expire on April first, and that the woman “is mandatorily debarred from admission to the United States by: a law and the department has no authority to permit her to reside here permanently. She was allowed to enter only in considera- tion of an agreement upon her part, and that of ker brother, that if she were per- mitted to visit him temporarily she would be returned to Italy without expense to the Government, and that no request would be ‘Continued on Page 121)

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SATURDAY EVENING POST IRE confidence is a source of great satisfaction in connection with pleasure or business. If you can depend on your tires, knowing that barring accident, you are not going to be subjected to any delay or inconvenience, you start every day Time to Re-tire? (Buy Fisk) TRADE MARK BEG. Pat and every trip with a sense of security which is priceless. A surplus mileage dividend on your investment and a continuous mileage which contributes largely to the enjoy- ment in driving are both assured when you use Fisk Cord Tires. There’s a Fisk Tire of extra value for every car, truck or speed wagon

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST July 7, 1925 4 Oo} ae > D « WS oar TOSS Ake ee 0 eet eete 8% eé =| eee Giese. } = yf Oa a es « =a) x = "" oO ~~ ‘en . * a a CE erg ¢, » |;

This latest design in Baker Fastex Velvet is exquisite in its two-toned charm and lustre U.S. PAT. OFF. N the finest enclosed cars of today, Baker Fastex Velvet achieves the same surpassing elegance Baker Velour gives to fine furniture. Sheer luxury dwells in the beautiful tone and sheen of Baker Fastex Velvet. It is soft as gossamer to the touch, and cool with silken comfort in even the hottest weather. Firm texture gives it amazing wearing quality. A. T. Baker & Company, Inc. 41 UNION SQUARE, NEW YORK

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(Continued from Page 118) made for an extension, nor to change her status from that of a visitor to an immi- grant.” This letter closed with a recital of the facts and the experience of the department with the case. ‘The department cannot under any conditions sanction a violation of the law in permitting the woman to re- main in this country. There should be no call by any citizen of this country for such action on the part of the department.” Let us examine this matter calmly, with- out prejudice and with due regard to the facts. It can be admitted at once that it is in the interest of society and in the inter- est of the American people to admit this woman. The chance of her becoming a publie charge is too remote even to take into consideration. The brother is pros- perous, intelligent, and, as an inducement, offers to secure his sister from want, even in the event of hisdeath. His wife is dead and he has three small children, all under five years of age. The sister is a woman of mature years, skilled in the care of children. She has raised at least one child in such a way that he has become a most desirable citizen of the United States. Surely she is better fitted to care for her nephews than a stranger, a paid servant. The officials of the Bureau of Immigra- tion recognize these facts. They have been willing to go the limit in securing a way to admit her. It is unfortunate that the brother did not understand this and act a little more intelligently, at the same time depending a little less on political influence. Had the woman been examined in the latter part of January, and had she been able to read even a little, she would prob- ably now be a permanent resident of this country. But the law is mandatory. The woman was automatically excluded the day she arrived. She has been allowed to stay in this country for almost a year and has ap- parently made no effort to qualify. The President himself could not order an excep- tion to be made. Therefore the quarrel is with the law and not with its administra- tion. The authorities exercised every bit of discretion possible. It would seem that if Congress in its wis- dom insists on literacy as one of the qualifi- cations for permanent admission into the United States the present law should be modified. Why not admit the immigrant who is otherwise well qualified for admis- sion, temporarily, for a period of, say, two years, with a requirement for final and per- manent admission that he or she acquire a working knowledge of the English lan- guage? It would perhaps make a little more work for the immigration authorities in rounding up immigrants who have not fulfilled this requirement, and ultimately deporting them. On the other hand, it would assist in the solving of the prob lem of assimilation. It is very much easier to Americanize alien citizens who understand English and who can be educated in that language than it is the foreigner who knows nothing but his own language. Discredited Testimony One naturally expects testimony before a congressional committee to have at least some merit. Let us see. On December 19, 1921, a Charles V. Knightley appeared before the House Com- mittee on Immigration. Among other things, he testified that fourteen Armenian women and children, deported to Turkey because the quota was exhausted, had been seized by the Turks upon their arrival, out- raged and then murdered. This testimony created quite a stir in the papers. This was permitting the workings of an inexorable law to travel entirely too far. Quota law or no quota law, the laws of humanity do not permit the shipping of women and children who have escaped to our shores back to be murdered by those whose clutches they have managed to avoid. The Secretary of Labor wrote the Secre- tary of State and asked him to make the necessary inquiry. The Secretary of State acknowledged the letter. The inquiry was made. It took nearly four months to trace all the particular Armenians referred to. There were nineteen in all, instead of fourteen. Of these, seven were men, nine were women and three were children. They EDO | had arrived in New York on September | 13, 1921; the Armenian quota was ex- hausted and they were deported on the steamship Gul Djemal, arriving in Con- stantinople in October. On the testimony of at least one of them, they encountered no hardships there. The American High Commission in Constantinople traced them all, and, according to last accounts, they were all well and comparatively happy. Knightley said he obtained his information from a letter to a young Armenian in Boston, whose father and mother were sup- posed to have been among the murdered immigrants. This young Armenian committed sui- cide, and no one has ever seen either the letter or the photostat copies promised by Knightley. So much for the value of the testimony. Knightley has a record, and, fortunately for Armenian and Assyrian iminigrants, is once more in the toils of a harsh and un- feeling law. In 1894 he was convicted of forgery and sentenced to two years in Au- burn Prison, New York. In 1898 he was so careless as to forget a former wife, was con victed of bigamy and sentenced to seven years in the Kingston Penitentiary, Canada In 1907 he tried impersonating a United States Government officer and this time drew three years in the Eastern Peniten- tiary and $1000 fine. In 1910 he tried forg- ery again, and escaped to Canada. In 1914 he was sentenced to from three to four years for larceny. “‘Helping’’ the Armenians In 1921 he appears once more on the scene—-in Boston—as an earnest welfare worker. In spite of his record, Knightley seems to have obtained the entrée to the most select circles in Boston. He was re- puted to have been a Y. M. C. A. welfare secretary and to have worked among sailors stationed at Boston during the war. All sorts of reputable organizations engaged in welfare work among immigrants authorized him to represent them before the depart- ment. He was devoting his life to the alleviation of distress among Armenian and Assyrian immigrants refused admission to this coun- try. His favorite stunt was the collection of twenty-five dollars from Armenians as ex- penses to Washington to appeal their cases He collected this amount from each of one lot of twenty-five. But he made a fatal error when he obtained $200 from the relatives of a fourteen-year-old Armenian girl for treat- ment for trachoma. He ran afoul of the Y. W. C. A. when he claimed to have re ‘turned the money through it. This organization rendered invaluable service to the Government in tracking him down. On Aprii 14, 1922, he was disbarred from practice before the immigration service, the Bureau of Immigration and the Depart- ment of Labor. He went to New York and started some sort of colonization scheme for Armenians, claiming to have an agree- ment with the Brazilian Government. Brazil promptly denied this. On January 17, 1923, after having managed to stay out of jail for some years, we find him pleading guilty to four counts in an indictment in Boston and obtaining therefor two years. Yet he is responsible for the unwavering belief on the part of many people that the Government actually sent fourteen Arme- nian girls and children to Turkey to be out- raged and murdered. There is a solution for the administrative problems of the immigration law and of its many provisions. There is a solution of the human problem of hardship. There is a solution of the problem of making existing legislation completely selective. Ard there is a solution for the problem involved in the necessity of meeting the economic dangers due to the rigidity of the law. But these are other stories. The moral of this piece, as stated in the opening paragraph, is that though every- | body is for restriction, nearly everybody objects to the fact that it does keep immi- grants out. I have cited a few cases to | show how a misinformed public keeps the | fires burning brightly beneath the chair of the commissioner-general. Multiply these cases and these criticisms by many thou- sands and you have a good picture of the | daily routine of the Bureau of Immigration. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Fountain Pen Ink Don't blame your pen if you have to shake it to make the ink flow. The chances are that it’s not the pen’s fault at all Give especially pen ink that was made it. Ink that will flow too freely Ink that clog the little passage that it flows through—that will never gum up the nib of the pen. A ~ freely, will never t Call for It was Carter's Fountain Pen Ink to make your pen give you better service For ordinary us Fluid. You can get it in big bottles for there is Carter's Writing the office and smal! ones for the home THE CARTER’S INK COMPANY Boston Writing Fluid Cico Paste New York Chicago Montreal [ERS Carbon Pa Typewriter Ribbons Stamp Pads TRAOE MARK REG. U.S. PAT, OFF GARTER genuine | ot basic patents, Unlike Any Other— Tell the dealer you want the _Z. Garter. Bex AUSE ne yother¢ an he like it. Pertect ft and comfort E. Z. WIDE quickest on and off. Look for SUSPENDERS the name Z. on the Garter Just as com- »e , fortable as 25c to $l everywhere, in single-grip EF. Z. Garters. and the “I A real treat. adiustable $1 at deal- ers’, or sent postpa-d, M Sport Csarter 2-Grip” (in regular o1 Hos. P. TAYLO‘ wt. Cont ia

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST SHORT TURNS AND ENCORES (Continued from Page 26 The Razor with the Tuer extra length means greater speed and longer blade life. It allows for the long, easy, diagonal stroke that makes every Durham- Duplex shave a shave of “priceless”comfort. EITHER MODEL—ONE DOLLAR Interchangeable Blades 50c for package of § Write Dept, 5 for catalog of all Sets DURHAM-DUPLEX RAZOR CO, Jersey City, N. J. Factories: — Jersey City; Sheffield, Paris; Toronto Sales Representatives in all Countries Lincoln Shock Absorbers take the punishment out of rough roads by snub- bing those jolting rebounds that cause discomfort even with the finest springs. So quickly do they act that minor vibrations are absorbed as well as heavy shocks. You roll along smoothly, safe in the assurance that a sud den bump will not bounce you off the seat. Holes in the frames of most cars make installations easy. A Size fer Every Car—S$i5 to $36 LINCOLN PRODUCTS COMPANY 1253 So. Michigan Ave., Chicago, Hlinois Nationally Distributed by More Than 100 Leading Accessory fobbers — Sold by Good Dealers Everywhere SHOCK ABSORB | to handle money and get the most out of it | . obtained west, but in the heart of Arkansas, the gusher-producing state. We haven't brought in anything yet but the sheaves, although we have been doing that fairly well. Just across the state from the famous Whackunder Field, which has paid millions of dollars to small investors annually, we have secured additional acreage. But if you desire to take advantage and share in the irresistible oil-fortune-making opportuni- ties of Whackunder and its gushers, and its tremendous quick cash dividends, you’d better get in touch with someone else. We are offering, however, subject to prior sale, 200,000 more shares of excellently printed stock, par value $10, for $2 a share. The proceeds from this offering will be used to develop the social interests of the directors of this company. We can say truthfully that not one cent will be squandered for other projects. The success of our company is directly attributable to the genius and practical experience of our board of direc- tors. Every man on the board knows how for himself. Remember that our first offering was fully subscribed in two weeks, and no doubt this offering will be oversubscribed soon. | Decide today to give us your money and return the application at once. And remember, also, that we are ir: the heart of this golden fairyland, having re- turned from California in April. We are able to see the opportunities that are here, and we enjoy them. We wish everyone might see them. This, of course, is impos- sible, so we are offering you an oppor- tunity to participate in this unique way. We keep all our clients in touch with the | situation by writing vivid accounts of any | gusher that is brought in and sending ex- [oaan) UF __ TheHe-Manis Razor «nm He-Man Blades cellent photographs. No contributions, however small, will be rejected. Get in on this one. Awaiting your favorable reply, we are, Faithfully yours, AWFUL CRUDE O1L CORPORATION (Signed) S. O. Soso SOS/K By K. Sec’y. All statements, while not guaranteed, are from sources plenty reliable enough for all our work. Chet Shafer. The Strangers T WAS a lovely party. All the Virtues were there and none of the Vices. Mercy and Peace met together, Righteousness and Truth kissed each other. The twins, Bliss and Ignorance, walked hand in hand, and Love and Justice played at blindman’s buff. Laughter, holding both his sides, flirted with Patience smiling on her monument, | while Jocund Mirth cast nods and becks and wreathed smiles at Modesty to make her raise her downcast eyes. Suddenly Courtesy noticed a strange thing. There were two beautiful Virtues July 7,1925 there who seemed not to know each other. “This will never do,’’ thought Courtesy. “I must introduce them.” But in order to be sure, he whispered to each in turn, ques- tioning if she had never met the other. “No,” said each, as she was asked; “I don’t know her at all. She seems very sweet and lovely, but we have never met. I should like to know her, I’m sure.” So Courtesy, taking one lovely gracious- faced Virtue by one hand and the other sweet and gentle Virtue by the other hand, said, politely, ‘I want you two to become acquainted.” And he introduced the utter strangers, Generosity and Gratitude. Carolyn Wells. Summer Fantasy HROUGH the street as I trot when the weather is hot, Then I envy the lot of a Hottentot tot, For he lies in the shade of a glade just arrayed In the very same costume in which he was made. I'd be pinched on the spot If I so far forgot As to copy the style of The Hottentot tot. Oh, the Hottentot tot, though you like him or not, In his tropical grot he can teach us a lot; For he cares not who stares at the costume he wears ; For his neighbors are natives and tigers and bears; And they do not care what He is wearing. The lot Are all dressed up the same as The Hottentot tot. Flaccu Ss. Travel I" WAS a balmy evening in the park. Clouds drifted across the face of the moon. The leaves whispered dreamily. They occupied one-eighth of a park bench together. They were all in all to each other, and there was no room in their blissful uncon- sciousness for the shadow of a_ police- man, approaching nearer and nearer. It was quite a shock to have a kiss sundered by a surly voice. “This here’s public property,”’ growled the arm of the law. ‘And it ain’t run for no private pleasure.” So they went arm in arm to the railroad station, and stood at the gate, and every time a train pulled in or a train pulled out they mingled with the incoming and out- going travelers, and kissed. Thus they maintained their average with- out interference. Finally a dusky porter discovered the ruse and grinned broadly, showing two rows of teeth. “Say,”’ he whispered to the young man, ‘why don’t you go downstairs? There’s a local leaves every minute.” ‘ ORAWN BY WYNCIE KING “‘Weicome, Brother’’

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST The key turned in The last guest gone. The house hushed and quiet. In the living room, the windows wide-flung to the 0 Nl jHT. the lock. moonlight and the soft breeze. whisper of rustling leaves. The ge ‘ntle What a night for sleep! And what an alluring spot in which to find it! The big Kroehler, so recently a deep cushioned, luxurious davenport, now invites to restful slumber. With one easy motion it opens, revealing a wide, roomy, welcoming bed deep-springed, thick mattressed. The smooth, cool sheets, the soft blankets are all neatly in place. Hidden they have been, in the spacious depths of the davenport. Not a guest, all evening long, lounging in its soft-cushioned comfort, realized that the Kroehler davenport was also a bed, of wonderful luxuri- They saw only its fine lines and rich upholstery. Only you were aware of the ousness. KROEHLER MANUFACTURING SORE ¥ CHICAGO and BINGHAMTON Factories at KANKAKEE, ILL., NAPERVILLE, ILI KROE ‘Davenport “Bed Kroehler’s double usefulness—its convenience in provid- ing extra sleeping space at night—its economy in giving an additional sleeping room without additional rent. Think what it means have a Kroehler davenport bed! Did ever another single piece of furniture combine such beauty, convenience and comfort? Whatever the furnishings of your living room are, a Kroehler daven- port bed may be had to harmonize with them; over stuffed, colonial or period designs, in any wood finish, with chairs to mat h: velour, genuine leather or leather upholstery of mohat plu h, tapestry ubstitute. In prices, they meet any requirement. Leading furniture dealers everywher ell Kroehler davenport beds for cash or ea payment Ask for a Look on the back for the Kroehler trad Do not a epta ubstitute. demonstration. mark shown here. Write for the handsome, tlt trate 1 bookl tand the name of the nearest dealer. ee \\ phtep. es Canadian Factory rr ) 1O HLER

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST MY DIPLOMATIC EDUCATION (Continued from Page 17) "f SB teedrauiic power of Niagara is the force of moving liquid under restraint. That's © he principle by which the Hoo-Dye Shock Ab- sorber brings the ultimate in ridingcomfort to your car—confined glycerine escaping from chamber to chamber in direct proportion to the amount of the shock to be absorbed. The Hoo-Dye absorbs both the shock and the recoil, and, graduating its control from the slight bene at low speed to the heavy road at high speed, it has brought a new era of comfort to motorists by wiping out road fatigue. HOO-DYE Shock Absorbers Hydraulic Standard Equipment in Europe Alda Aries The Austin Motor o., Lie de Baselaire Chenard & Walker Delage Delaunay-Belleville Delahaye DFP. G. Trat Minerva Philos | | us. A circle of water illuminated by lights Rochet Schneider Scap Slim Secqueville & Hovau wie Wolseley Motors Ltd. And in America Lincolns Pierce-Arrows ( unninghams Lafayettes Mercers Packards while many Studebakers thousands have Hudcons been applied to Cadillacs Locomobiles other makes THE HOUDAILLE CO. 1416 West Ave.,Buffalo,N.Y. Houde Eng. Corp. Mfr's For your own health's sake send fora copy of ‘How Motor Shocks Affect the Nervous Prag” by R. Kendrick Smith, Strong, happy youngsters are those who eat and di- gest plenty of the right foods. If your boy [or girl] suffers from failing or fin- icky appetite and lacks weight or vigor, give him Yeast Foam Tablets and see how he improves. A pure, wholesome, tonic food made of selected yeast. Palatable, easy-to- take—the ideal tonic for children. At drug stores or sample free on request. SEND FOR LARGE FREE SAMPLE Name Address Mail coupon to Northwestern Yeast Co. 1750 N. Ashland Ave., Chicago SET When this had continued for five days a fairylike island a appeared out of the vast sea; an island of white houses, + tropical foliage, inhabited by an exceedingly handsome race of dark people and sur- rounded by distant blue mountains —Cey- lon. The boat took a breathing spell here and gave us one day in which to dash out into the country and reach, over perfect motor roads, one of the most fantastic laces imaginable—Kandy, where, after * ncheon in a delightful English hotel sur- | rounded by Buddhist temples, very friendly elephants, cinnamon and spice and nutmeg trees, jolly monkeys and every British ma- terial comfort, I watched an Indian plant a mango seed, cover it with earth, place a basket over it, play on a flute, make a pet snake wriggle about, and finslly remove the basket and show a small fuli-grown tree bearing fruit. Another four or five days followed at sea, and then, in the middle of the night, a ver- itable scene from the Russian ballet greeted from the ship disclosed a mass of elaborate little boats, painted in imitation of strange fish, filled with dark people clothed in white topped by gold turbans and offering bunches of delicious unknown fruits for sale—Pe- nang, or at least all I saw of it. Then down the Malay Straits we sailed until Singapore, the most southern point of | this voyage, rose to meet us out of heat so intense and throbbing that it was actually exciting. Again British comforts, even luxuries—in- cluding our own American ice-cream soda— were offered, combined with an amazing | mixture of Oriental life. Rickshas flew about | in every direction, large hotels and depart- | ment stores seemed to furnish everything the traveler demanded; cinema theaters announced Justine Johnstone in the latest Broadway success; Chinese, Japanese, Ja- | vanese, Malay and Siamese faces peered out | from long rows of shops or from the shade | of tropical gardens. Across the China Sea Java was vaguely seen across a flat sea; a point of land was passed and a northern course begun; Borneo shone faintly on a distant horizon, and another three days brought us to the mouth of a wide river which somehow suggested the lower part of the Mississippi; and a still more familiar note was struck when, across lowlands densely covered with tropical foliage, two church towers rose out of what appeared to be an exact reproduction of a provincial French town—Saigon. Two days later an- other French town, Hai Fong, gave more evidences of Western life in the heart of the Fast. Then came the coast of China, with oddly shaped mountains, silhouettes which somehow made one think of fantastic crea- tures and unknown cults; and finally the entrance to the harbor of Hong-Kong was reached, and one of the most dramatic cities July 7,1925 in the world rose straight up the sides of a mountain peak. And again along the coast of China until we entered the famous Yang- tse River, filled with picturesque junks, and landed at a city which rather suggested Buenos Aires—especially its sumptuous club, with a bar one hundred and fifty feet long, where everyone in the Far East meets at noon and sometimes remains on indef- initely. Then straight across the China Sea to the island empire—the Land of the Rising Sun. It seems to me that the mistake most of us make in approaching Japan—at least, I did—is to expect to find ourselves imme- diately in a land which is an exact repro- duction of scenes on the stage, scenes from The Geisha or The Mikado or Fantana; but that is not at all what Japan is like today. I was up on deck early in the morning and had a splendid view of Fuji-San, streaked with snow, rising out of gentle green hills, which quite came up to expectations; but when Yokohama was reached, its bay filled with ships from every port in the world, I realized at once that I was not in a stage setting at all. It was more an impressive concentration of all those mechanical con- trivances which make all busy ports today so hideously ugly—cranes, switch engines, long lines of freight cars, warehouses, hotels and utilitarian piers. On to Tokio I was met by two secretaries from the embassy and hurried off in a motor to the station, where we boarded an electric train that carried us so rapidly through miles and miles of congested one-story frame houses and factories and across iron bridges and along a mass of steel rails—all somehow suggesting the suburbs of Jersey City that I reached the hotel in Tokio, an hour away, without having the feeling that I had arrived in the heart of the Far East. Of course, there were salient scenes here and there that jumped at me as being strange and unfamiliar; there were dainty little creatures in gay kimonos, their faces cov- ered with white powder, fanning inces- santly and squatting on their heels on the seats of the coach; there were dignified little gentlemen in black and gray crépe coats and broad sashes who wore American straw hats and derbies; there were women with babies strapped to their backs with strips of colored ribbons; there were jolly paper parasols and vivid silk handkerchiefs tied about traveling parcels; there were now and then whole rows of buildings deco- rated with floating pennants covered with ideographs; there was a continual pro- cession of strange little yellow faces and eager black eyes; there was the incessant sound of clicking clogs as these little people moved about in their wooden sandals. But somehow these were not the things that made up my first impressions. I had expected them; I had not expected the setting, which struck me as being all wrong; it was entirely too modern, too usefully Sat. | PHOTO. OY KADEL @ HERBERT, WOW YORK CITY Japanese Fire Fighters Performing Acrobatic Stunts on Ladders, Tokio, Japan

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ugly; there was nothing about it charm- ingly dainty and picturesque and suggestive of painted screens and frente porcelains. The whole place appeared to be given over to catching up as fast as possible with what the Western world considered progress. Our embassy building suggested a re- ; spectable New England farmhouse, or per- haps more a suburban residence of the past century. A white frame building with green shutters and a porte-cochére of the ‘ style which we used to think gave great dig- nity to a house, and two small houses for secretaries, all set in a garden surrounded by a wall, made up our bit of America in 4 this far-off world. The chancery was a two-story wing attached to the ambassa- { dor’s residence, in which, on the lower floor, were the offices of what might be called the American division. The upper floor was given over to the Japanese de- partment and the commercial attaché’s rooms. The buildings were rather shabby and in need of paint—this in spite of the fact that we own them and have a lease of a hundred years or more on the land—but on the whole were rather homelike and com- fortable. In comparison with the com- pounds of the British and German and Italian Embassies we made a showing which would have gratified those of our congressmen who think we should maintain an atmosphere of the greatest simplicity in all our foreign missions. As I arrived alone, one of the secretaries who was occupying one of the two houses in the compound took me in with him until I had a chance to look about and decide how and where I wanted to live. Tokio in Hot Weather ; That first day—and night—in Tokio stands out as one of the hottest I have ever experienced; and this after a voyage of six weeks spent almost exclusively near the equator! It was most debilitating, de- pressing heat; after half an hour spent S under a cold shower I felt as though I might have enough life left in me to go on for a few hours longer; but the shower had to be repeated constantly to keep this feel- ing in existence. Thick green trees, a gar- den filled with strangely dwarfed, twisted ! plants, a miniature lake and pleasant ve- randas and awnings gave a comfortable but the pleas- sensation appearance to surroundings; ant effect was only one of vision; was quite another matter. When night came on, the sultry, oppressive heat seemed to increase, and unfamiliar noises accentu- ated a feeling of depression which had struck me as soon as I had landed at Yoko- hama. From a near-by house came a weird, wailing voice accompanied by some picked instrument that sounded like a banjo with one string—which I was told was a geisha practicing her songs. Above this rose the loud plaint of the cicadas that somehow suggested they were making a supreme effort to live through the intense heat. There was an incessant sound of motor horns from a thoroughfare; and there was now and then a peculiarly pene- trating noise made by the night watchman as he passed by clicking two pieces of wood together and thus warning all burglars to delay their housebreaking until he had moved on to a safe distance. Japan’s Romantic Past When the secretary and I had talked our- selves homesick over stories of our own country he attempted to cheer himself and me with some records he had just received; but under such circumstances My Little Gray Home in the West became too poign- ant to bear. I didn’t like Japan that first day; it was entirely too far away from any- thing I had ever known, and it was im- mensely discouraging when I realized that it would mean years of study before I could begin to have the first gleam of under- standing of a civilization that was centu- ries separated from our own. This discouragement at finding myself in such an utterly unknown world drove me at once into gathering together a tremen- dous collection of books on Japan and set- tling down to reading day and night in an attempt to find out something of what it all meant; and I was soon deep in a history that became more and more absorbing. I fairly gloated over the wild deeds and blood-curdling brutality of the shoguns; they made the story books I used to read as a boy flat and tame. Iyéyasu is about the most picturesque character to be found in any history. Not only was he a sort of adventurer who made himself practically king, but he was a statesman, a diplomat and a very capable business man when it came to using to advantage the knowledge of the English sailor, Will Adams. who was made to build him ships like those that had PHOTO, BY CENTRAL NEWS PHOTO, SERVICE, NEW YORK CITY A Street Scene in Tokio During a Recent Celebration THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Jhe most startling thing in Chicago end, freeof New York Ty RAC : PORTABLE A compact, efficient Radio Set that can travel with you wherever you go—whether it’s an *. auto ride or a vacation trip. Thename AMRAD meanssatisfaction guaran- teed. Everything is in the deep case, and you have nothing to think about. Just ask for the ‘Amrad Portable” complete. For the Radio user having accessories, the set only can be purchased for $25.00. Ask any dealer to demonstrate the “Amrad Portable”, or send remittance direct to us. , Price $47.50 Complete For the summer home, yacht loud Sp aker is requir or wherever at ed, the AMRAD 35 Radio's highest devel opment $125 AMERICAN RADIO AND RESEARCH CORPORATION. ad ' MEDFORD HILLSIDE, MASS . ur folder," The Amrad Portable and your Rad klet, “The V r rk How to Add a Dollar To Each Day’s Pay First noon time, ¢ , how much spare time do you have at rin the evening? many people doyouknow who regularly read, or who would, you believe, enjoy reading, The Saturday Evening Post, The Ladi 5" Home Fournal and The ¢ ountry Gentleman ? Second, how In Your Spare Time % Now. if vou will s " y NS } t but two new or renewal su each working d our t thl profits, in ' onus, will be al (K) 9 ’ ; pa™ ther better than a di ry \ rel ou talk tosevera re: \ u talk . sa" le each day, a t 1} liy all there tot ut ( t plar except that w nee e\\ 1 med u suUDy 1 with evervth | —s

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enuine (For Harvey rin Look for The Hawey Label and Te Harvey Sign of. Service BOLTLESS SPRINGS Th fs, n for Harvey ce This Label for rete ts, Be get Harvey ~—boltless—guar- certain you Genuine Springs anteed against sagging or break- age for one year. Made types— Rite” for 100% greater riding comfort (sold in sets of 2 or 4). “Easy Riding” for ordinary breakage re- placement. in two “Ride- You can forestall road trouble by regular inspec- tion—FREE at the Sign of Service. Harvey Send for this Free Booklet! - + The Harvey Sign stands for Dealers * maximum quality and service. Write for details of the Harvey Turnover Plan. Harvey Spring & Forging Co. Established 1892 Dept. 7 Racine, Wis. | to implant in Japan, THE SATURDAY | defeated the Armada; and when it came to exterminating the new religion which Saint Francis Xavier had begun so successfully is methods make Diocletian's efforts seem feeble and puerile. But Iyéyasu is only one of many amazing characters. I found them all fascinating, especially the defeated warrior who, realiz- ing there was no hope for him, fled to the woods and cut off his own head so that his conquerors would never be sure they had captured him; and another who took refuge among lepers rather than give himself up; | and another who set fire to his castle and committed hara-kiri; and another who cap- | tured a city by damming a river so that the town was inundated and all the inhabitants drowned; and still another who, to prove to the shogun who had sent him off to con- quer Korea that he had succeeded, sent back sixty thousand pickled ears which he had cut off the heads of his prisoners. And further back, before the time of these pow- erful dictators, was a history that is a com- bination of legend and mythology and religion, so interwoven that it is difficult to tell which is which. And after this back- ground of the past was glanced at, there still lay before me the study of the develop- ment of this extraordinary nation—which has never known what it means to be con- quered or even invaded—into a modern world power. Once more I found myself forced to relin- quish all interest in Cavour and Garibaldi and Mazzini and Pizarro and Balmaceda and Alessandri and Vasco da Gama and Don Jaoa Quinto and devote all my time to Yoritomo and Iyéyasu and the imperial descendants of the Goddess of the Sun. No | wonder I found Japan overpowering! There was no connecting link; there was no rela- tion there with what had gone on in other parts of the world; there was nothing to do but make an entirely fresh start in an abso- lutely new direction. The work in the embassy was a striking contrast, too, to what I had grown accus- tomed to in European chanceries. One of the most important phases of the work was the translating and interpreting that must go on incessantly, which necessitates a complete staff for this alone—a work which demands long study and preparation. In fact, the secretaries in the Japanese division had spent many years in Japan so as to learn to read, write and speak the language fluently. In connection with the embassy was a group of language students who, after an examination in Washington, had been sent out to spend two years there in the exclusive study of the language; and after they had mastered it to a certain extent they were to return to Washington to pass another examination and then be appointed officially to a consulate or the embassy. Difficulties of Language This is a highly specialized work, and, of course, means, when a man goes into it, that his career is to be confined entirely to those countries in which his knowledge of the language will be useful. Besides the Japanese division of the chancery, which included two secretaries and assistants, we had four secretaries who confined them- selves to the work that was carried on in English; and besides this already large staff, we had about five Japanese, who worked in an adjoining office, whose special occupation appeared to be opening doors, carrying messages, delivering cards, receiv- ing mail, telephoning, and the like—per- haps a rather large crowd for such simple duties, but such is the custom in a country where each man is supposed to do only one thing. I had never before been in a city where I couldn't at least attempt to make myself understood; but in Japan I couldn’t even read a sign or understand an elaborate ges- ture, and my means of communication were equally incomprehensible. This gave me a frightfully lost, bewildered, abandoned sort of feeling; and created an ambition to begin at once the study of Japanese. The second day I got hold of a professor and started in; but, alas! learning Japanese is quite an- other story than learning French or Span- ish or Italian. When I realized that it was all in ideographs; that a certain picture might mean a word or a whole sentence; that the same word might have three dif- ferent meanings according to the inflection of the voice; that three thousand words were considered the bare skeleton of a vo- cabulary; that there were two entirely dif- ferent forms for writing, either the ancient Chinese characters or the more modern EVENING POST kana; that to speak it courteously you had to draw in your breath and bow continu- ously from the waist, I sent the old pro- fessor off with many thanks and the explanation that as I had only, if I were particularly favored, forty more years to live, and as that was not half enough time in which to learn his language, I didn’t think it worth while to begin. It seems that the Japanese find our language just as difficult as we do theirs; though I must say I do not think their sys- tem of studying it the best—at least from a practical standpoint. I used to get con- siderable amusement out of talking to one | of the men who stood at the main door of | the embassy. As opening the door was his | he had a good deal of | sole occupation, leisure time, which he devoted to the study of English. Dressed in a black silk kimono, he sat all day at a little table bent over huge volumes which he read with the aid of gold-rimmed spectacles. These volumes were The Vicar of Wakefield, Hamlet and Milton’s Paradise Lost. From them he was | learning current English. No wonder when he brought me a message it was de- livered in poetic and oftentimes incompre- hensible language. Once he came in excitedly, and, after bowing three times and drawing in his breath, announced, “Sir, the ambassador has thrice asked for thee.” Western Dress in the Orient After weeks of repetition I learned a few phrases and how to count up to ten, though this latter accomplishment was not very useful, as the names of the figures change according to the object you are enumerat- ing. For instance, when you speak of three ladies you use an entirely different word for “three” from the one you would use if you were speaking of men; if you mention three cabbages or three books, each has its in- dividual three; in fact, each object seems to have its special numbers. An unforgiv- able social faux pas is often made by begin- ners, who refer to a number of ladies with the same numerals used to denote cab- bages. I could give to the ricksha coolies, but I was never sure that they understood me cor- rectly; they often carried me off in an en- tirely different direction from the one in which I wanted to go. I looked forward with keen interest to being presented at the Foreign Office and making official calls, feeling sure that such occasions would furnish ample opportunity to observe and learn all the intricacies of Oriental ceremony. In this I was very much disappointed. The Foreign Office, a mod- ern brick building set back in well-kept grounds, gave no suggestion of the East. The minister and undersecretaries wore the same kind of clothes we were wearing at the time—pongee suits—and received us in rooms that might have been furnished in London or Paris or Washington; in fact, I also learned a few addresses that | I had the feeling that I was anywhere but | in Japan. This determination to become just like | us was one of the most constant disap- | pointments of my sojourn there. In another | twenty years I suppose the picturesqueness | and romance of this remote corner of the world will have disappeared entirely in the | wholesale adoption of Western customs and methods of life—all except perhaps the costume of the women. When Commodore Perry first arrived there in his black ships and forced the Japanese to accept us as friends and to become a part of the asso- ciation of mingling nations, there was a mad rush to become as much like us as pos- sible—this to prove that they were in every way capable of being just like other great nations—and our dress was accepted | without question. That being the time of frock coats, everyone who was able to had one made at once, and the ladies, from the empress down, clothed themselves in the fashions Paris dictated at that moment. Today, however, though officials and business men continue to wear our style of dress, as they find coats and trousers much better adapted to the activities of modern life than divided skirts and somewhat floppy kimonos, the women have decided that they will continue to wear their charm- ing national dress; and very wisel for no costume is quite equal to the oo and grace of a kimono when worn by a Japanese lady. Of course, it demands cer- tain gestures, small steps and a swinging sort of motion, none of which goes with the present dress of the Western world. The (Continued on Page 128) July 7,1923 Chiffon Hose Sheer /u/ Durable CADET *970 The same scientific strengthening and especially reinforced tops that give unusually long wear to all CADE1 HOSIERY will assure your satisfac- tion in these all silk, full fashioned, chiffon stockings of filmy, even texture. 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Name Street ’ ‘ Floyd Parks $175 a month City $200 in one month | and August. | eral weeks at Chuzenji, one secretary took | stroll down the street until EVENING POST (Continued from Page 126) gorgeousness of the materials used is in- clined to make one gasp at the expensive- ness of such costumes, though this is partly | offset by the elimination of changing styles. A Japanese lady does not have to worry over how her next year’s dress is going to be cut; the only probable change will be in the designs stenciled on the kimonos. Embassy life in Tokio differs from that of other capitals in that each embassy has such a large staff that each is independent of the others so far as amusements go. Not only had we our own large staff of secre- taries, but both the naval and military | attachés had theirs, and there was also the | large number of language students; | most of the other embassies were composed | of equally large or larger personnels. and As I arrived in the middle of summer, I found most of my colleagues spending the hot months out of town, at the mountain | resorts, which are only a few hours away | from Tokio. Formerly it was the custom during the summer months to move the en- tire embassy staffs to Chuzenji, a delightful spot several thousand feet up in the Nikko | Mountains on a very pretty lake—im- | mensely suggestive of our lakes in the | Adirondacks—and pass the entire summer | there; but the necessity during the war of | remaining constantly in Tokio has some- | what changed this custom, and diplomats | now go for a few weeks wherever they find themselves most comfortable. Our staff was rather widely separated during July The ambassador spent sev- a house at Hayama, another was at Myano- shita, and still another at Karuisawa. Though their families remained throughout the season at these resorts, the secretaries | took turns in spending a week or two in town, so that the embassy was always well manned and ready to handle all questions that came up. I chose to remain steadily in Tokio—with only week-end excursions—in order to fa- miliarize myself as quickly as possible with the work there saat tae something of the, to me, entirely new questions pertaining to the diplomatic relations between this Far Eastern world and our own. Nothing could possibly have given me a better oppor- tunity to study, read and wander about Tokio than those long summer days, though I must admit wandering about Tokio in the summer is not exactly an exhilarating exer- cise. A block or two was sufficient to make me think I had already taken the shower | bath that I was anticipating at the end of | the excursion. | esting and always filled with some new evi- | dence of the strangeness of Oriental life. I But these walks were inter- had only to go out of the embassy com- pound and walk a few steps to find myself in a narrow lane where masses of tiny | houses and tiny people offered striking con- trast to everything embodied in our reser- vation. Little piles of salt before each gate | were evidence that the house had recently been purified; branches of fresh green leaves showed the presence of Shinto gods; cups of tea and bowls of rice on miniature | altars testified to the fact that the spiritual hunger of ancestors was being appeased. Sociable Bathing “Clean houses, clean bodies and fresh flowers are some of the forms of our re- ligion that we observe most carefully,” a Japanese explained to me. I seem to remember, almost more than anything else in Tokio, the constant sound of splashing water. It came from behind high wooden fences, from the interior of houses and often from right in the middle of the street—the daily bath that every | native invariably takes. I was particularly | interested in an old gentleman who had his bathtub—a sort of barrel with a charcoal heater under it—placed before his front door every afternoon. Here he sat for an hour or so, in the tub, with hot water up to | his neck, smoking and fanning and talking to any friends who might pass by. One of | the most thoroughly luxurious customs I | have ever encountered! Imagine how de- lightful it would be to go home in the cool | of summer afternoons, sit in a tub on the front porch, read the evening paper and ex- change gossip with the passers-by! If ~ thes interesting happened that the old gentleman could not see from his tub, he would step out, completely naked, and be found what had aroused his interest. Japanese uncon- sciousness of nudity rather takes one’s | breath away at times. Some say it is the July 7,1925 right attitude and that ours is false mod- esty. Still, when we are brought up with the expectation of always seeing those about us sufficiently clothed, it is a bit dis- concerting to find ourselves ‘surrounded by people who have no such inhibitions. One of my first excursions to the country was to a sea resort near Tokio. We had to walk from the station to the inn on the beach, and, arriving there hot and dusty, we asked at once for a bath. The boy in attendance brought us white cotton kimo- nos and straw slippers, told us to undress in our rooms, don the kimonos and follow him to the bathhouse. This proved to be a large room half filled with a tub of hot water. My friend showed me the formula for bathing, which is to scrub yourself with soap and water, rinse yourself thoroughly and then sit for twenty minutes in the tub of hot water. We got as far as sitting in the tub which is not the most comfortable thing in the world, as the water is practically boil- ing—when three women and two men came into the room, undressed completely, very considerately scrubbed one another’s backs with the coarse brushes I had avoided, and then quite casually stepped into the tub where we were sitting and sat down beside us. With their heads just above the water they smiled at us, and nodded and drew in their breaths—a courtesy which is observed carefully, even though you have reached the stage of intimacy where you bathe to- gether. My thoughts rushed back to childhood, when we used to say, ‘“‘Wash together, friends forever.” Street Scenes in Tokio Tokio, which is claimed to be the fourth largest city in the world, is the most amaz- ing combination of East and West. At first glance it struck me as being a great over- grown village—this due probably to the lack of sidewalks, the predominance of one- story frame buildings and unpaved streets, numerous trees and isolated handsome buildings. Somehow it made me think of what our Western towns must have been like fifty years ago, before the different sec- tions had been linked together by well- paved streets and a complete unity made of them. Contrasts abound on all sides. A twelve- story concrete office building—designed by an American architect and built by an American construction company—is just as likely as not to be placed beside a red- lacquered pagoda; a red-brick building, which might have been picked up bodily from Philadelphia, rises out of a mass of small shops which overflow to the sidewalk with millions of teapots; huge, handsome and rather ominous looking gates of wood and tile announce the entrance to some nobleman’s estate which is hidden away in what looks like a tenement district; one of the handsomest department stores in the world—in which elevators, orchestras, restaurants and bargain sales abound—is constantly filled with pushing throngs; a theater, as large and comfortable as any on Broadway, is crowded from four in the afternoon until ten at night with an audi- ence that is just as enthusiastic over trans- lations of Madame Sans Géne, Julius Cesar and A Doll’s House as over their own dramas; temples before which people stop to clap their hands and offer obei- sance are crowded with the very latest development in American drug stores, where ice-cream soda and apple pies are consumed ravenously by a race which is just beginning to find out that American food is almost better than its dollars; and the Ginza—Tokio’s Fifth Avenue and the most fantastic street in existence—offers everything under the sun and in a way that leaves you absolutely wondering what has happened to you or it. It has sidewalks, not very well kept and often covered with mud; it has two lines of overcrowded electric trams; it has the most confusing network of telegraph poles and wires; it has hun- dreds of signs announcing the latest in everything from London and Paris and New York; it has pretentious plate-glass win- dows extremely well decorated; and it has thousands of people clattering along in wooden clogs and dressed in any way that the most casual fancy may have suggested. An undershirt and drawers of white crépe and a black derby are very popular. Then there are coolies in dark blue coats and pagodalike straw hats; there are many men in black silk kimonos and broad sashes, car- rying fans and walking sticks and wearing American straw hats; there are hundreds of those charming little ladies in their

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| flying in every direction on bicycles; THE SATURDAY stenciled kimonos and flashing obis and | jolly parasols; there are dignified matrons in more somber attire, though with head- dresses that make you wonder how many hours it took to arrange them; there are workmen strolling about in nothing but narrow loin cloths; there are young boys there are motors filled with representatives of dis- tinguished families, all dressed in the most perfect. Western clothes; and there are but why try to describe the Ginza? You would never believe that such an extraor- dinary place exists until you had seen it for yourself, I have always prided myself on having a sense of direction and being able to find the way about in almost any city. In Tokio I got lost every time I went out alone; and as for ever reaching the end of it and coming tothe open country, I don’t believe anyone has ever done that. It goes on forever thousands and thousands of little one-story houses, sometimes bordering a wide street, more often clustering about narrow lanes that bring you back to where you started from. But there is one central portion of the city that is as distinguished as one is likely to see anywhere—the section which imme- diately surrounds the vast, moated, Cyclo- pean walled fortress which is the residence of the emperor. I often stood before this somewhat ominous-looking citadel, and, after gazing at it and wondering over the | aloofness and mystery it suggested, would turn and look back over wide pleasances that showed modern office buildings, hand- some government edifices, department stores, banks, theaters and hotels. At such moments I was very much inclined to be- lieve that, if so much has been done in less than fifty years, Tokio will some day be one of the handsomest cities in the world. There were sufficient familiar amuse- ments to occupy the average foreigner who demanded golf, tennis and club life—the Tokio Club is a thoroughly modern build- ing with an excellent restaurant, and is the meeting place in the afternoon for both na- tive and foreign members—but somehow, perhaps pushed on by the always-disturbing feeling that I was never getting any closer to this utterly strange civilization, I spent most of my leisure time wandering about the city. One of my favorite spots was in Shiba Park, where I always found, late in the afternoon, in a little shrine devoted to the worship of the Goddess of Good Fortune a charming little building on a tiny island | surrounded by giant lotus blossoms—an old priest who was always zealously de- | manding the attention of the goddess by means of bowls of rice, cups of tea and vases of flowers which he placed on her altar Kneeling before the shrine, he would clap two bits of wood together so incessantly that I began to wonder if it were not an en- durance test to see if the goddess would not | become so bored with the supplicant’s clat- | most popular Asakusa temple—a ter that she would answer his prayers just to get rid of him. A Japanese Coney Island When I wanted to glance at the more ac- tive life of this amazing city I would wan- der along that long lane of one-story brick shops or booths which leads to Tokio’s resort | that is very closely akin to our own Coney

| made up the furnishings. Island. The narrow approach to the tem- ple is a mass of gay, jostling, noisy people; the stone pavement makes an extraordinary sounding board for the shuffling of thou- sands of wood-sandaled feet; and the cries of venders, selling candies and dog col- lars and teapots and books and cakes and lanterns and dolls and pickles and fans, make a reverberation that no one would ever connect with the worship of a god; yet | that is exactly what they were there for; for when I finally reached the temple, a huge building guarded by wooden demons that were anything but friendly in appear- ance, the gay throng was even noisier and happier there as they amused themselves clapping their hands and throwing coins into a long trough. In this neighborhood, which is the cen- ter of hundreds of cinema theaters where many American films were being shown, I used often to remain to dinner. After tak- ing off my shoes, passing along the smallest and most perfect gardens imaginable, and climbing steep stairs, I would finally reach a tiny room, where spotless matting and screens and lacquer tables and silk cushions While I looked

EVENING POST out over lantern-lighted lanes and houses, a dainty little figure in lavender and orange silk would sit beside me, fan me, chatter most amiably in a language of which I understood not one word and serve me a repast that consisted of dozens of little lacquered bowls filled with seaweed soup, mushrooms, Christmas-tree ornaments, fried lobsters, sugar-coated raw fish and candied cherry blossoms. If I appeared dis- posed to spend the evening there the lit- tle figurine would clap her hands and call downstairs and give a hissing order which soon brought up two giggling geishas-——one dressed in heavy black crépe stenciled in pine trees and white cranes, the other in a shimmering kimono of gold and pink peonies, With their appearance I knew I was in for an hour or two of symbolic dancing of which I am not desperately fond-—and so would stretch out on the cushions, light another cigarette, take a sip of the very insidious lukewarm sake and resign myself to those posturings--accompanied by the sadly strummed samisen —which were sup posed to represent the trickling of a moun tain stream over pebbles, the first whisper of spring breezes at the meeting of the iris and the lotus. If I became more ambitious in studying this culture of the East I would go to a no dance—which the Japanese say is as fine as our Shakspere—which usually went on for seemingly whole days and es or I would go to a performance at the National Theater and watch endless scenes in which a husband or father or son, finding himself dishonored, would go through the intricate ceremony of committing hara-kiri in a way that left nothing to the imagination. The Prince of Wales’ Visit Yes, those wanderings about Tokio were rather wonderful. And yet all the time I seemed to be growing farther and farther away from those strange people. The more I saw of them the less I understood them; even when I went away I did not feel that I knew them any better than when I had first glanced at paintings of them which some traveler had brought back with him The autumn season was ushered in with an earthquake that was quite different from those I had experienced in Italy and Chile, in that the motion suggested the up-and down hurried movements of a juggler rather than the swaying and rocking to and fro this no doubt due to the different effect upon frame houses and those made of stone and mortar. The earthquake was followed by a typhoon that lasted three days and was accompanied by a tidal wave that did considerable damage. Then suddenly the hills and gardens about Tokio looked as if they were in the grip of a huge conflagra tion —the autumn effect of turning maples After this the season might have been said to be launched, and the first large en tertainment was given —one of those garder parties that are so much in favor. Frocl coats and top hats were the formal dress for men, which gave me an excuse to dig out from the bottom of trunks these articles of apparel that had lain there since the days before the war, in Rome. The story goes that this rigorous rule of the frock coat delayed the visit to Japar of the Prince of Wales for several days. It seems that he had only brought a morning coat with him, and upon being told that this was not considered sufficiently dressy for official functions had telegraphed from Hong-Kong explaining his difficulty and asking that —at least during his visit—thia be considered forma! dress. The reply came back that as everyone in official circles in Tokio only had frock coats, and there being no time to have so many morning coats made, it was suggested that the prince re main long enough in Hong-Kong to have one made by a Chinese tailor — which he did The first function of the season was given by the Minister for Foreign Affairs in one of the imperial palaces, of which there seem to be any number in Tokio. The garden was an interesting example of that amaz ing landscape-gardening art which creates vistas and lakes and mountains and bridges on such an infinitesimally small scale that they look exactly like toys. The house was a rather dilapidated wooden building with verandas decorated with those fancy scrolls and twisted pillars and gingerbread balus trades that we used to think the last word in elegance. The minister and his wife-—she was a graduate of Bryn Mawr—received the thou sand and more guests near the entrance

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Co., Philadelphia, U.S. A “YANKEE” TOOLS Make Betlv Mechanica Norn Bros. | I thought of. | when I was suddenly taken ill, | to an American hospital, where my family | whether they were known or not. | was an individual carefully looked after and THE SATURDAY door, weleoming their own people with the characteristic bow from the waist, but eeting foreigners with cordial handshakes. Prem the hall we were shown immediately into the garden, where all sorts of enter- tainments were going on. In one part a stage had been erected and a continuous performance of juggling and dancing went on, all done before an arrangement of black velvet curtains which was immensely effec- tive; in another part an orchestra was playing; and in gayly tinted tents most elaborate refreshments were being served - all the most dainty and complicated Western dishes, which the Japanese guests appar- ently enjoyed to the fullest. Indeed, it is said that their somewhat unnourishing food of thin soups and raw fish and candied flowers is rapidly being superseded by our more satisfying beefsteaks and fried pota- toes. The next official function was the review of the army by the Prince Regent, an im- pressive sight in which thousands of these small khaki-clad soldiers marched by with extraordinary precision, while several bands played a national anthem that was | in many ways one of the most curious and exotic bits of music I have ever heard, and tremendously characteristic of the East though someone later told me that it was composed by a German. hen began a seemingly endless series of dinners given by embassies and government officials, at which I had a first opportunity of meeting and talking to the representative people of Japan. A great many of them spoke English, even if they had not trav- eled, and I was interested to find out that most of the mer who had been educated abroad had attended schools in England rather than in the United States. Foreign- ers were usually entertained in the part of the houses—sometimes a wing, sometimes two or three rooms—which had been built especially for that purpose, and had been furnished with chairs and tables. Why She Became a Christian I was interested in hearing a Japanese lady give her reasons for having renounced her national religion and becoming a Chris- tan: “IT began to learn your customs at a school in Kioto conducted by American missionaries. I might as well confess that I did not attend this school in order to be- come a Christian; that was the last thing I went to learn English and your way of living. I even left the school, | after two years, without having given much thought to the Christian religion. Then, was carried felt I would receive the best attention. I was there a long time, several months, and during those long days in which I had to remain in bed and do nothing I began to | be interested in the way everyone treated | me. There was something so very kind and gentle and thoughtful in the way I was taken care of; and all this was not alone for me; it was for every patient in the hospital, Each one treated with very deep personal interest. “This impressed me very much. I began to wonder if your civilization—and, of course, that means in a great part your re- ligion—did not possess something that ours did not. Our affections seem to exist only for those close to us; yours seem to em- brace every living creature. You not only have kindly feelings for everyone but you put them into practice. “Once I asked my nurse why she was so good to me, and she laughingly replied that it was her duty, that she was expected to be encouraging and kind to all the patients; then later she gave me a little black-bound book to read—your New Testament — and I found in it the inspiration for everything that I had seen about me. Today I am a member of the American Church in Tokio.” I remember with a good deal of amuse- ment the surprise I experienced in my first conversation with a Japanese lady, who sat next me at a large dinner. She was dressed in a pale blue kimono with a gorgeous obi of silver and white water lilies; her hair was piled high on her head and stuck through with sparkling combs and orna- ments; and her heavily powdered face and long, upturning eyes were exactly like those pictures on fans and lacquered boxes. I was perfectly sure the conversation between us was not going to be very animated. She was too completely Oriental to suggest the knowledge of one word of English. But EVENING POST we had hardly got seated when she turned | to me and said in fluent English: “T have recently been reading with a great deal of interest the opposition your | countrywomen are showing towards the birth-control movement States. I must say I am rather surprised to find such an advanced country as Amer- ica—especially advanced where women are concerned—not disposed to accept such a humanitarian idea. But you are 8 nation of | striking contrasts, aren’t you? This from a kimono-clad lady, who was exuding a pleasant aroma of rose geranium | and looking as if she had just stepped down from a fifteenth-century screen, was almost too much to believe. My first experience in attending an offi- cial function at our embassy came very near being disastrous—at least so far as showing any diplomatic training on my part. As I was the only secretary present, the am- bassador asked me to meet the guests in the hall, show them on the diagram their places at the table, and see that they were pre- sented to the ladies they were to take in to dinner. As I had met very few of those in- vited— most of them had just returned to town—I found it a rather difficult task trying to decide who was who and getting the names straight. I concentrated on the Prime Minister; and, though I had not met him, I had seen so many photographs of him in American papers during the Wash- ington Conference that I felt sure I would recognize him as soon as he entered. When I saw one I took for him come in I rushed up with considerable empressement, greeted him with a low bow, showed him his place at the table, told him whom he was to take in to dinner, and even went so far as to fol- low him into the drawing-room to see that he was presented to the lady in question. After having got this off my chest I stopped a moment before a friend and commented on the fact that Baron Kato looked exactly like his photographs. “Has he come?” my friend asked. “There he is.” I indicated the one I had just taken so much trouble over. “That isn’t the Prime, ‘Minister. ever made you think so? A Bewildering Sojourn This explains the difficulty I encoun- tered all the time I was in Japan. I never seemed able to distinguish one person from the other, even though the Japanese main- tain that they are just as distinctly different as we are. At any rate, I spent a bad few minutes that evening undoing all I had done, getting the card away from the wrong | man, presenting him to another lady and | showing him another place at the table. Our embassy teas brought out the Amer- ican colony in force, especially those from Yokohama, where most of our compatriots live and which is really a much more cos- mopolitan city than Tokio. They also afforded a chance to meet the large num- bers of missionaries of all denominations who are carrying on an interesting and steadily growing work—- perhaps more im- portant than anything else that we are doing in that distant part of the world. It was a constant surprise to me to find, not only in Tokio and Kioto and Yokohama but in much smaller places, American churches and schools springing up in all directions. I must say that one of the most strik- ing influences of the schools appeared in those students who with almost violent enthusiasm had taken to gold-rimmed spec- tacles and gold-filled teeth. I have never seen such a general display of these ar- ticles, and when I commented on it I was told that the Japanese look upon them as a form of jewelry. I left Japan more confused and bewildered than I had been during the whole of my diplomatic experience, and with the feeling that this last assignment had comprised more that was new and utterly strange | than the whole of the previous years. When I stepped off the boat at Seattle, thus com- pleting a journey round the world, I felt that the time had come to settle down on my own native soil—at least for a while and let the kaleidoscopic impressions of varying civilizations fall toget ser and form, if possible, a composite whole. Fourteen years is a long time to live away from one’s own people, even though in the official ca- pacity of representing them and caring for their interests. Editor's Note—This is the eleventh of a series of articles by Mr. Richardson. The next will appear in an early issue. in the United | What July 7,1923 fs ISUTE Your baggage may be lost or dam- aged in anv number of ways. Even when the loss is due to negligence, the full value can rarely be recovered, un- less it is insured. Your Hartford agent will write a policy that insures your baggage from the n it comes back again. 1oment it leaves your house unt! Hartford Baggage Insurance is just one of the many kinds of protection which makes the service offered by Hartford agentssocomplete. HARTFORD FIRE INSURANCE CO. HARTFORD, CONN. The Haviford Fire Insurance Com- pany and the Hartford Accident and Indemnity Company write practically every form of insurance except life.

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 131 the most remarkable tooth brush ever made Made in U.S, A. invention makes possible a Finer Tooth Brush -in glass container- at popular prices EARLY two years ago, a remark- able new automatic brush-making machine was perfected by the Kent- Owens Machine Co. This machine made possible the production and sale of the world’s finest brushes at popular prices! First—a correct tooth brush! We asked hundreds of dental authori- ties to recommend the ideal trim for a correct tooth brush. From these recom- mendations, the Owens Stapletied Tooth Brush was designed. Notice how perfectly it is shaped to clean front, back, on the edges and between the teeth. The pointed bristles clean thoroughly in every crack and crevice. The curved handle makes it easy to reach around the back teeth. Protected by glass container! Every one told us that cleanliness was of first importance in a tooth brush. Ordinary tooth brushes are exposed to thoughtless, dangerous handling. Even those sold in cartons must be taken out to be shown to customers. So the Owens Stapletied Tooth Brush was packed in a crystal clear, sanitary glass container. You can see it per- fectly without opening the top. It always reaches you scrupulously clean equal to any brush made at any price! Yet—very economical ! [his greatly improved tooth brush, in the glass container, costs you no more than ordinary tooth brushes! Handles are in six colors, 30, 40 and 50 cents — in child’s, youth’s, and adult’s sizes. OWENS Stapletied TOOTH BRUSH V¥YUUV UY Bristles coming out in the mouth are a nuisance and a source of real danger. This is largely avoided in the Owens Tooth Brush by the improved method of stapletying each bristle tuft securely into the handle with a hidden staple THE OWENS BOTTLE COMPANY, TOLEDO.

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For 28 years Roach Doom has been guaranteed to completely ex- terminate roaches—old ones, young ones, and eggs. It is safe to use anywhere. Guarantee is printed on can—your dealer will refund your money if Roach Doom fails to work. 40c at Your Druggist's EDGAR A, MURRAY CO., DETROIT THE SATURDAY EVENING POST PANACEAS OF THE PAST (Continued from Page 9) the proposition, vigorously urged by the supporters of it, that economic progress is marked by increasing wealth among a small section of the people and increasing poverty among a tremendously larger section, be- cause it is the tendency of rent to absorb all values above a minimum for wages and interest, and that the taking of this rent, by the medium of the single tax, would brin about democratic equality and universa prosperity. The most important political tests of the hold of the theory on the minds of the people were the two campai George made for mayor of New York, t e first in 1886, when he was defeated, and the second in 1897, when he died a few days before the election. The theory has not received general accep- | tance by the economists, although George's | correlative theory that the laborer is paid | not out of capital but out of the value he | himself creates has been accepted in some quarters. Notwithstanding the disapproval of the single tax by the economists, it has | a considerable body of adherents in this country, and is vigorously held to be the long-sought-for taxation panacea. The decay of the Populist movement was followed by the birth of what may be termed the trust-busting era, wherein the | panaceists, defeated in their efforts to provide poor money to all those who did | project of taking not have any, turned their attention to the ood money from those who had plenty. The Populists ceased to | function nationally in 1900, and in that | year began the great corporation expan- sion that, although checked somewhat by | the panic of 1907, has continued by one | expedient or another ever since. According | to the census of 1900 there were then in the | United States 185 trusts, or combinations, | with 2040 plants, and a total capitalization | of $1,436,625,910. These combinations | produced slightly over 14 per cent of the gross product of the manufacturing indus- tries of the country. Owing to the many shiftings, reorganiza- tions, dissolvings, and to the various court decisions in trust cases, there is much dis- pute as to exactly what sort of combination or corporation can now be termed a trust, and there are no statistics at hand as to the total capitalization and product at the pres- ent time. However, the total capital in- vested in corporations, many of them perhaps not trusts, as reported for tax pur- poses in 1920 was $68,427,073,288, and it is fair to assume that a considerable portion of this capital is trust capital, in one way or | another, especially as the Standard Oil, the

| down because it does not arrive at all. | United States Steel, the American Tobacco and many others of the giants flowered into their billions in the first years cf this century; separated since, of course, into their com- ponent parts, as in the Standard Oil and American Tobacco cases, but still doing | nicely, thank you. The Age of Trust-Busting Your true panaceist is a volatile, versa- tile and irrepressible person. He is neither discouraged nor dismayed because his mil- lennium does not arrive on time, nor sp e has millenniums constantly on tap, and panaceas by the score always in stock. If one cure-all does not work he promptly con- trives another. Thus, when it was definitely established by the election of 1896 and by the gold-standard law of 1900 that this country could not be pushed, talked or frightened into fiat money, or free silver, or any other more-money claptrap what- soever, the panaceists went off on a new tack and determined that as it was fairly evident that the people did not think of the lamentable lack of cheap money as the cry- ing evil of the times, the people could be talked into thinking that predatory wealth, as exemplified by the trusts, was the crying evil. After the trust makers got well under way, following the billion-dollar steel com- bination of 1901, the trust breakers came in full cry hard upon their heels, and we had a new panacea thrust at us, namely—that the salvation of the nation depended en- tirely on the busting of the trusts. Other- | wise we were doomed. The matter had already received some | attention at the hands of our congressional mentors through the passage of the Inter- stateCommerce Act in 1887, and the making of the Sherman Antitrust Law in 1890. The Sherman Antitrust Law provided that all contracts, combinations—in the form of trusts or otherwise—or conspiracies in restraint of interstate or international com- merce are illegal, and persons guilty of par- ticipating in any of these combinations are | uilty of misdemeanor. Still, in face of this | aw, the trust making went on gayly and billionairely, and it was up to the pan- aceists to bust a few trusts. Wherefore, for bright example, busted the Standard Of American Tobacco Company limb from limb, and stood around waiting to see these great and restrictive combina- | tions of capital wither and die. Wherefore, | again, the Standard Oil Company and the American Tobacco Company, resolved into their constituent parts—so it was said proceeded calmly andefficiently, thus rudely separated, on their way. And so with other trusts and combina- tions. The net result of that trust-busting panacea seems to be the increase of the prof- | its of the busted and the consequent collec- | tion of more of the national wealth in their own pockets. price to the consumer of the articles the trusts thus panaceized produce by this so- called restoration of com has escaped many most vigilant seekers. The Birth of the Progressive Party | The extremely f we mere persons who pro- duce, transport, distribute and bank for us are always from two to ten laps ahead of the theorists who seek to control them, and the reasons for that are that the practical per- sons know their business, while the theorists do not; because the practical persons also know their politics and their politicians, while the theorists do not; because, no matter what happens, the practical persons retain control of the instruments of produc- tion; and until some method is evolved by the reformers whereby the purely reaction- ary facts that it was intelligent self-interest | that built up this country, and that it is intelligent self-interest that is still building it, can be met by obliterating fact instead of by various half-baked reform theories, wordy panaceas and emotional crusades, the present situation will continue; which, ap- parently, is the desire of the great mass of the people. At least that must be the they | Company, and the | tore them | If there is any reduction in | orat k tition between | the organizations originally combined, it | July 7,1925

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conclusion when the demonstrated actions | and reactions of the people are considered in connection with the numerous panaceas offered by the theorists, reformers and | regulators. After the trust-busting panacea had been | found to be much diluted, attenuated, in | fact, as a national means of saving grace, there came, in 1912, the Progressive Party, which embarked in the panacea business in | a wholesale and vociferous manner. The inciting causes for this adventure in high | political emprise and higher concern for the | welfare of the people and the removal of the ship of state from the shoals, are too recent to need recapitulation here; but it may be said that when it came to offering to the voting public remedies for all existing po- litical, governmental, social and economic evils the Progressives went into the trust industry themselves. -They formed a combination in restraint of all reform trade and set forth almost every known variety, save actual socialism, as of their own proprietary brand, patent, copyright and trade-mark, drawing with liberality upon the theories of almost every panaceist we have known, from Thomas Jefferson to William S. U’ren. They produced a pletform that took an incredible time in passing a given point, even when impelled by a most skillful | declaimer, and among many others it em- braced the following cures for our national disorders: The destruction of the invisible govern- | ment, direct primaries, presidential prefer- | ential primaries, popular election of United States senators, the short ballot, the initia- | tive and referendum and the recall; legis- | lation for the prevention of industrial | accidents, occupational diseases, and so forth, work ards for women, abolition of contract prison labor, standards of compensation for industrial accidents, injuries and trade diseases, social insurance including old-age pensions, publicly con- trolled industrial-education schools and the rohibition of child labor and night | or women, minimum wage stand- | the eight-hour day, | Install Genuine APEX INNERINGS NOW and get thousands of miles more useful and eco- nomical service from that worn motor thissummer Stop Piston Slap, excessive oil pumping, carbon, fouled plugs; renew “iy * flexibility, power, gas and oil economy. F liminate costly ~= Tete and new pistons. See your dealer or garage man today fe knows Genuine Apex! Dealers: Get in line on this profitable motor necessity Write your jobber Jobbers: Scores of houses find Apex one « sellers. Write today L Thomson-Friedlob Mig. Co., Dept. W, Peoria, Illinois ‘ Warning: All infringers are being ful'y prosecuted Standard Underwoods 5 -Year Guarantee Yes, this genuine Standard Visible Writ ing Under- wood newly rebuilt, at wf the six best

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Sunnier Days Due to Bran and better Here we Bran means better health cheer. It is folly to omit it. make it a delightful dish. Pettijohn’'s rolled wheat—a special wheat, most flavory wheat that flake hides 25°, of bran flakes, yet it is scarcely noticed. So here whole wheat with its 12 needed minerals and its vitamines, also the essential bran. Both combined in luscious flakes which you will count your favorite morning dainty. Try it tomorrow is sott the Each grows. [nina , ce Pettijohns Rolled Soft Wheat—25 % Bran = Pd with this Hanier Drill For 13 years wise contractors using Speed Way Hammer Drills have been saving up to 80% of their cost of drilling in stone, cement and brick SpeedWay Hammer Drills are made in 6 sizes; attach to any lighting circuit built for hard service Type U-6 shown above weighs 26 pounds, delivers 1800 blows per minute and will drill a one-inch hole in average concrete at rate ot 2 inches per minute Write for our catalogue andlearn about the SpeedWay Portable Drills, Ham- mers, Screw Drivers, Grinders, ete ELECTRO MAGNETIC TOOL CO. 1830 So. 52nd Ave., Cicero (adjoining Chicago), Il. bi stributors Please write, your territory may be open cy wa ~ SS iE z 2A ME Oe OO NLT ROO |; ment | may be called stupefyingly | organization of workers, a Federal admin- istrative commission to look after trusts and monopolies, governmental codperation in the extension of foreign markets, tariff revision and a tariff commission, immediate inquiry into the high cost of living and remedies therefor, improvement of the cur- rency, conservation of national resources, a lakes-to-gulf deep waterway, woman suf- frage, corrupt-elections legislation, popular review of court decisions, reform of legal procedure and judicial methods, develop- of agricultural coéperation and credit, a national health service, physical valuation of railroads, income and inheri- tance taxes, international agreement for the limitation of naval armaments, national supervision over investments, and much else. Now, there is a program that properly satholic in its inception. It combines in one vast dose about all the governmental, political, social and economic reforms conceived up to that time, save collectivism and communism, It does not take up the subject of levies on capital, and is wary concerning the nation- | alization of industries, but it spreads out in almost every other direction. One would | think that the oppressed and outraged pro- letariat would have risen to that consor- tium of reliefs with a glad whoop and voted the proposers of it into power with joyous unanimity. But the proletariat did not rise in that manner, even though the leader of the movement was the enormously pop- ular Roosevelt. Less than one-third of those voting swallowed the dose. To be exact, this putting of all the known cures, except the extreme radical ones, into one capsule was voted for by 4,119,582 of the 15,034,800 who went to the polls. Panaceas We Have Tried This gigantic staking of its all on one turn of the election cards left the Progres- sives bankrupt as a party, and, in 1916, deserted of its leader. So it passed out to join the bygone panaceists in the political mausoleum where are stored the remains of the long, long list, from Free-Soilers to Populists, from Barnburners to Green- backers. But as the Populists are entitled to point to various of their panacesz as that later came into legislative being, so also are the Pro- gressives, who adapted considerable of the Populist creed to their own uses. The in- come tax was then on its way, and so was woman suffrage. Both are with us at pres- | ent, the first, as yet, unstabilized, and the | second, as yet, undeveloped. | states they have the initiative, In various the refer- | endum and the recall, and we have accom- plished presidential preferential primaries and the election of United States senators by popular vote. We have attained the widely acclaimed panacea of the direct primary. And in various states and cities some of the minor improvements to the old order have been adopted, such as the com- mission form of government, community property for husbands and wives, blue-sky laws, and so on. Let us examine into some of these—the direct primary, for example; and, coupled with that, the election of United States senators by the vote of the people instead of by legislatures, as formerly. Any survey of the effects of the direct primary on the character and capabilities of the public officials who achieve nomination for office thereby, in any section of the country, can- not fail to convince the disinterested and nonprejudiced student of causes and effects that rather than elevate the standard of our THE SATURDAY EVENING POST public officials the direct primary has, in the most favorable circumstances, held that standard on practically a level with the old standard, and in most cases has actually lowered it. In the first place, the direct-primary sys- tem increases by 100 per cent the political disturbances that the people of any given section are subjected to, because the pri- maries demand as intensive a campaign for their verdicts as the election that follows en- tails. Also, the primaries increase the cost of running for important office so as to make it prohibitive, in many instances, to the capable poor man; and, furthermore, as has been proved abundantly, the primaries give leverage to the demagogue that the old convention system did not allow. The demagogue who could not make a dent on the convention now goes out and talks himself into nomination before the people. Old Senators and New The presidential primaries, long touted as the solution of boss-ridden conventions, so increase the expense of a campaign for the nomination that a poor man, unless fi nanced by those who will in the future be interested, cannot run. The cost of con- ducting a nation-wide canvass in the presi- dential primaries is enormous. A study of the expenditures of the campaign of 1920 will show that. But, it may be pointed out, President Harding, who was nominated by the Republicans, made a most meager pri- mary campaign. Granted; but if Harding was not preferentially chosen by the pri- maries, how and where was he preferen- tially chosen? And of what use is the presidential primary system unless it selects the candidate? Where does the panacea come in? How did the canvasses of Wood and Lowden and Johnson in the Republican primaries of 1920 work to preserve the people from the machinations of the bosses, when Harding, who was only sketchily in the primaries, got the nomination? And what preference did the Democratic pri- maries show for Cox? What popular up- rising was there for him? The fact is that presidential primaries do not do what it has been claimed by the reformers for years they would do. They are not acure for bossism. They are merely another political panacea that does not stand the test. And the election of United States sen- ators by the direct vote of the people — how about that? There is a reform that was shouted for for years, and was finally at- tained by medium of the Seventeenth Amendment to the Constitution, which yas proclaimed on May 31, 1913, as ratified by the states. Thus it has been in effect for ten years, and with what result? Go back to 1900, say, before this agitation had had any preliminary effects, or not many, and compare that Senate with the present Senate. Morgan, Pettus, Berry, Wolcott, Teller, Platt of Connecticut, Bacon, Cul- lom, Beveridge, Dolliver, Allison, Frye, Hale, Hoar, Lodge, McMillan, Nelson, Vest, Cockrell, Carter, Chandler, Gallinger, Foraker, Aldrich, Tillman, Bate, Proctor, Daniel and Spooner were in it, all of them products of the heinous system of election by legislatures which this reform was to correct, and which method it was to sanctify. Put that list against the roster of the present Senate, the product of popular elec- tions, and draw your own conclusions. The truth of it is that there are many mem- bers of the present Senate whom no boss, however case-hardened, would have had PHOTO, BY L. E. EDGEWORTH . A Surf Scene, Hawaiian Istands An Auto Necessity LWAYS carry a roll of Duten Branp Friction Tape in your car for taping wires, mending leaky hose and countless other small but impor- tant jobs. Keep a roll at home, store or shop. Countless daily uses—from mending tools and anything broken to taping ball bats and tennis rackets Also an electrical and cycle necessity. Te ond wilh DUICH QD BRAND FRICTION TAPE Duren Baann Friction Tape he« ! it's stronger, sticks tight er, insulates perfectly and is absolutely water proof, Look for the orange and blue carton at your auto cycle, electrical, hardware or sporting goods dealer's, | j $¢. Dealers supplied through jobbers Big industries use nuse they've prove supply mur sites: 5 O¢, 2 Dutcn Branp stands for highest quality in a full line of chemical necessities for autos and bicycles, such as Gasket Shellac Compe “7711L" Rubber Cement, “2 in 1"' Curt Filler all made in our own modern factory vund VAN CLEEF BROS., Established 1910 Woodlawn Ave., 77th to 78th Sts., Chicago Ansonia Sunwatch Tells the Time ' and Points the Way Sportsmen, Campers, Scouts Guides, Motorists and all outdoor peopl need a reliable The pass Compass Ansonia Sunwatch is both Com ind Sundial Tells correct time anywhere in United States Handsome br fits vest pocket. GET IT FROM YOUR DEALER If he has none in stock, we will mail postpaid on receipt of the price ass case; Price for United States only ANSONIA CLOCK COMPANY 99 John St. P. New York for Half Dept. s Century or free Maker f Fine Clock WRITE Ef side t ATENT 5. INVENTION BLANK.” Send move or sketch and description m for our free opinion of its patentable nature Victor J. Evans & Co., 727 Ninth, Washington, D. ¢ # invent

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BA. 50c and $1 Sizes Save Tubes Tires Time or > CaS Rem Ber, AD Wer | . > NYONE can mend any punc- ture or a 17 inch cut or blow- out with this pure white, fresh para rubber Las-Stik patching material. it couldn’t be white if it wasn’t pure new para rubber. Only a white patch stretches perfectly with the tube, no more, no less, and remains so elastic it never can creep or tear out. Sizes 50c and $1, cement in- cluded. Dealers and Jobbers tie up with this advertising and this dominating growing patch success that is based on six years of demon- strated quality. Write. LAS-STIK PATCH MFG. COMPANY Hamilton, Ohio Rubber Cement 10¢ Always Ready Here is a new conve- nience. An extra strong waterproofed mending tape that mends most everything from baby’s broken doll to a split tool handle. Always ready to serve you well. Keep a spool in your house, garage, tool chest, traveling kit. Saves dollars constantly. 15e 25¢ 50c At Your Druggist’s Mai! This For Free Strip "77? BAUER & BLACK, 2500 5. Dearborn St., Chicago Name 4ddvess cin CASH AND PRIZES ve boys can earn spending money and summer prizes by selling The Saturday Roewing Post (in U.S.A.). Write The Curtis Publishing Company, Sales Div,, 366 ladependence Square, Philadelphia, Pa | | THE SATURDAY the temerity to propose to a legislature he controlled—mediocrities who are the result of popular election, and whose perform- ances during the past ten years have proved that there is a flaw somewhere in this reform. The initiative and referendum and recall are not yet Federal improvements, but various states have adopted them with the result of complicating the elections to such a point of intricacy that the voters in most instances do not know what they are voting for; with the result of cumbering state constitutions and statute books with many | useless, foolish, expensive, often fanatical and, more often, unworkable laws that em- body the fads, fancies, theories and illusions of small cults, classes, special interests and self-seekers; and with the further result of enabling any interest, whether corporate or personal, with sufficient money to hire professional petition shovers, to get before the public and secure a vote—influenced by private and selfish and skillful propa- ganda in most cases—on any project of any | sort that can come within the purview of state legislation. | prove of the proposa In Ohio the percentage of registered voters required to get an initiative propo- sition on the ballot is only 3 per cent. Initiative Measures In all states the initiative is coupled with the referendum, requiring the submission of the measure to popular vote, either in the first instance, which is what prevails in the majority of states, or, as in Ohio, not only in the first instance but also in a sec- ond, for in case the legislature does not ap- F the voters of Ohio have the inestimable privilege of a double | initiative, first to the legislature and then | from the legislature to the voters. In the latest election in California the finely printed explanatory and descriptive text accompanying the initiative measures proposed filled a book such as no voter would take the time to read and only few voters could understand, even if all of them read the thousands upon thousands of words of fine print. So they voted, mostly, EVENING POST for or against those measures for which the paid propaganda had been most vociferous, and let the rest slide. So skillful have the very interests which the initiative was de- vised to circumvent come to be in various states, in the preparation and circulation of initiative petitions and in the providing of paid propaganda for these, that the initia- tive is fully as much of a special-interest medium as it is a popular one, if not more. However, since the initiative was first adopted by Oregon, in 1902, it has been taken up by about one-half of the states, and the business of shoving petitions for a nickel a name is a growing one. Undoubt- edly some meritorious measures have been the outcome of it, and no record of all its successes and failures is at hand. Don Quixote’s Advice The generalization is a safe one that the foolish and, often, s tion that has resulted from initiative meas- ures far exceeds the measures of merit that have been adopted, for the reason that ini- tiative measures are the outcome, in a large majority of cases, either of the theories of cranks and fanatics and panaceists who can gain no hearing in oe or of crafty special interests, skillful in the use of propaganda, that have something to put over on the people. It is a great and useful instrument for the highly organized minor- ities that are so powerful in American life. Thus we come to the present, when the panacea blooms on every political bush; when the Agricultural Bloc, and the Pro- | gressive Bloc, and the League of Nations | Bloc, and the Isolationists, and the Tax Experts, and the Corporation Chasers, and | the innumerable societies for the cure of exploitation of this and that each has a sure remedy for existing conditions, and each its political and publicity schemes to | advance. Thus we come to the confused and hur- ried present, and about all there is to say is to repeat to the panacea-whelmed Amer- | ican people the admonition of Don Quixote: | Patience, and shuffle the cards. Most of the panaceas won’t work. THE SATURDAY (More Than Two Million either wholly or in part, without special never authorized. IS fully protected by copyright and nothing that appears in it may be reprinted, quotations from them for advertising promotions and stock-selling schemes is EVENING POST and a Quarter Weekly) permission. The use of our articles or — The Place Pig-Alley—Holworthy Hall Ready Money— Thomas McMorrow’ Selling Things Abroad— J. R. Sprague Playing the Gold Camps Editorials Short Turns and Encores Small-Town Stuff— Robert Quillen Table of Contents July 7, Cover Design by Pear! L. Hill SHORT STORIES Chester Forgets Himself—P. G. Wodehouse Since the Days of Jacob— Temple Bailey The Greatest Gift— Horace Annesley Vachell ARTICLES When the Oil Flood is On— Albert W. Atwood Panaceas of the Past—Samuel G. Blythe My Diplomatic Education: East of Suez—Norval Richardson Ellis Island Sob Stories — Ernest Greenwood SERIALS Playing Fair (In three parts)—Lucy Stone Terrill One Arabian Night (Second part)—Arthur Stringer MISCELLANY 1923 address label from a recent copy. A REQUEST FOR CHANGE OF ADDRESS must reach us at least thirty days before the date of issue with which it is to take effect. Duplicate copies cannot be sent to replace those undelivered through failure to send such advance notice. With your new address be sure also to send us the old one, inclosing if possible your ial-interest legisla- | July 7, 1925 Super-Service, the far belt champ, has a record to be proud of—he has never lost a scrap. we A handsome belt, but boy he’s tough! Endurance is his middle name. “ee Super-Service owes a great part of his title to his metallic finish. This finish turns the most vicious punches of heat, oil and water. SD Super-Service Fan Belts come wrapped in pairs, one for the fan, the spare for the tool-box for emergency. Buy the twin package at your dealer's. 60c each for Ford cars. 7 each for all other cars using flat belts. L. H. GILMER CO., Philadelphia SUPER-SERVICE FAN BELT “It’s a Gilmer Product—you can depend on it.’’—Happy Van, the Gilmer Man. Salesmen Wanted To sell Teas, Coffees, etc., direct to consumer. Profit Sharing Plan. References and Bond required. Pleasant, profitable and healthful employment. ousands have succeeded with us. Many have been with us from twenty to forty years. For full information write to Grand Union Tea Company Room No. 10 Brooklyn, N. Y. 68 Jay Street Corn s Just co Bluejay The simplest way to end a corn is Blue-jay. Stops the pain in- stantly. Then the corn loosens and comes out. Made in clear liquid and in thin plasters. The action is the same. At your druggist’s

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST IS photograph shows several crews of painters at work on the Leviathan’s hull at Newport News, Va. It took 7,000 gallons of paint to cover the 8 acres of the hull and the super-structure— 41,000 gallons of paint and varnish for the interior surfaces —a grand total of 48,000 gallons, or enough | to paint and varnish every house, inside and out, in a town of 5,000 population. UMOR had it that the famous ferry of the A.E.F. was rotting at her pier in the Hudson River. But rumor was not right. Painters were quietly at work all the while checking rust and rot—foiling deteriora- tion. Had it not been for saving the surface with paint and varnish at vital places, the Leviathan could not have been re-condi- tioned for anything like $8,000,000—perhaps not at all! The Leviathan, unrestored, would have become a national disgrace. The Leviathan, restored, is a national triumph—a triumph for American ingenuity and resource—a triumph for American engineering—a triumph for American paint and varnish—a triumph of which all Americans can be proud. There never was a more striking example of the truth of the great American proverb, “Save the surface and you save all”’ SAVE THE SURFACE CAMPAIGN —507 The Bourse, Philadelphia. A co-operative movement, by Paint, Varnish and Allied Interests whose products and services conserve, protect and beautify practically every kind of property. It costs more not to paint than to paint. Rust and rot go on till you check them. Paint and varnish NOW, or you'll pay far more, later, for repairs and replacements. Don't put it off—put it on

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST July 7, 1923 | Riddle DECORATIVE LIGHTING HTMENTS The distinction possessed by Riddle Lighting Fitments is the outgrowth of thirty years of Riddle tradition in the making of residential lighting equipment of the finest character. You will feel pride and satisfaction in having Riddle Fitments in your home—and if you are building for rental or re-sale you will appreciate the prac- tical advantage to be gained from equipping with lighting fitments that have a known value in the eyes of the public. Riddle Fitments are enduringly wrought of metal, in the colorful Estofado Decoration that is permanent in all climates. They may be seen at leading lighting fixture stores and departments, in a wide range of styles and prices. Booklet with color illustrations sent on request to Department N THE EDWARD N. RIDDLE CO., Torepo, Onto Makers of lighting fitments since 1892 — i FN; You can easily replace out-of-date lighting fixtures with modern Riddle Fit- ments. Consult your dealer for suggestions and estimates The Riddle Planning Ser- vice will gladly make a sug- gestion for an appropriate in- stallation, on receipt of data direct or through your dealer

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Armstrong's Linoleum for Every Floor in the House eS ae = , made attractive as any room because of = sor that offers possibilities for the exerc | hi Vv. "\, roe ih « 1 W gilt we See | t af ‘ 1 ? a in yout uest room a y e HIS 1s a guest room more than ordi leum patt rns, zo toa good furniture or narily cheerful and inviting. The department store and ask to se what 1 | al selected niture. rugs, an ing offered in Armstrong’ inoleum. ‘ . : woman who st ed furniture, rugs, and being offer Art Linoleum How to Lay Linoleum on Weed Meo draperies for this room knew what she There are beautiful Jaspes or two I. ' y : 1 N summer ¥ floor xDat n rte e } was about when she chose a linoleum floor ton effects, parquetry iniaids, Carpet | t t hat rb ra : , , } ‘ i with a ney to open that completed the harmony of color and inlaids, marble tile inlaids, rich plain path ge “Lew en gh ah! Vous tae decorations. color , an | attractive print 1 design | fi th f ‘ he ' ted (not There is beauty in a floor of Arm something suitable for any room you ng fel ’ : , \ lanning 1 | \ wih Nn ! floor / strong’s Linoleum. The colors and pat may be planning to re-decorate, Also | hoa het pa tr terns lend atmosphere and dignity to the linoleum rugs, printed and inlaid. tion and 4 1 a permanent, waterproof, room, especially whe n enhanced by the When you go to buy linoleum you can hon floor. The added servic ] } t if ’ careful placing of a plain fabric rug here be sure of getting genuine linoleum of " th the extra ¢ and there highest quality by looking for th Arm ; : , sca : | ecle “A” : Linoleum is so easy to clean that with — trademark, a Circle “A” on th 7 no care beyond an occasional wiping burlap back. : | | ) NS 1 with a dust-mop the linoleum floor may Write to our Bureau of Interior Deco a it : “ation for ideas as to r patterns an | rhs } be always spotlessly bright and clean. epi for ideas a m Oper pa ir We wees p FELT | | Thi ae .. : colors for use in your scheme of hom | i 1s sp and an i lity is a great j | ‘ inis spick-and-span qua . oes decoration. No ae for this service. L i addition to the appearance of any floor. / LINOLEUM Other advantages of linoleum floors art **The Art of Home Furnishing iICEMENTED HUTTE : . , ' and Decoration’ (Second Edition) | 4 { | | their quietness and resilience under foot. ; ; x 4 | Witty : k A h P ' t of tl \ ||| Linoleum makes a warm floor—it keeps By Frank , ‘ { iH} York School of Fir \ Art. Sent, with {|| || the heat in and the cold out. mayen ete aig year, spat is caliiae tal \!| If you are not familiar with new lino twent tS. Lp | \\ ArMstTRONG Cork Company, LinoLeum Division “4 J b OY 802 Liberty Street, Lancaster, Pennsylvania SS Y % ~ Look for the CIRCLE ‘A trademark on the burlap hack

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rr The [pine ome Housework Your best helper for all cleaning is Old Dutch Cleanser because it is so quick and active. It lightens work, and is most eco- nomical. Furthermore — it’s safe. So you : may be sure that everything you clean va teo Mn Lam Mme lole)Letcchmmel(<rcteM-tele ME dela (e) ame a:4 (celle and sanitary. The secret of Old Dutch efficiency and econ- omy lies in the character of its fine particles. They are flat-shaped, made that way by nature. Free from hard, jagged grit, which scratches the surface, grinds in the dirt, and can not clean efficiently. Old Dutch particles do not scratch; they erase the dirt. Being flat, they offer more cleaning surface, and doa greater amount of cleaning. That is why Old Dutch does more + and better work than anything else you can buy. Use it for all cleaning — floors, walls, sinks, tubs, utensils, etc.,.in fact, everywhere throughout the house. - There is nothing else like Old Dutch